Backtalk




The Good Doctor

In reference to Ask Vance (July 2007), I had to write to let you know that I am the youngest daughter of William F. Pearson, DDS, who practiced dentistry at that property from around 1967 until just before his death in December of 1988. My family still owns the property.

I grew up in that house, attended Snowden, Grace St. Luke's, and graduated from Central in 1982.  We believe the house was haunted by the doctor who originally owned the building and have lots of stories about that! I have two older brothers and two older sisters and we all had a great time growing up in that house and working for my father from time to time.

~ Maria Pearson Orlando, Florida

My aunt forwarded your July 2007 Ask Vance column: Yes, that indeed is my grandmother's house. I am Dr. Pearson's grandson. I remember playing in the house as a child. It seemed enormous to me at the time. The house has been owned by our family since my grandfather bought it, although several other dentists have practiced here after his death in 1989. At one time the entire first floor accommodated the dentist's and Shaklee office, while my grandparents maintained the residence upstairs. Eventually the practice grew to the point that the Pearsons had to move into a different home.

My grandmother, a Venezuelan immigrant, lives in the house and still sells Shaklee, although she no longer maintains the storefront. The lower portion of the house facing McLean was at one time my uncle's dental lab. Just down the alley behind the house was the house I grew up in on Snowden. Dr. Pearson was a Kappa Alpha at Drury, and developed a fondness for the KA flower, the crimson rose. The long brick flowerbed that you see on the McLean side of the house was where he grew his roses.

~ William F. Pearson III

 

I couldn't let the moment pass without sending you a note about Marilyn Sadler's Last Stand "Give? Or Give Up?" [February]. So often I struggle over what to do when the homeless (or seemingly homeless) ask me for money and I am rarely satisfied with my decision not to give. I rationalize that it's for my own safety — after all, I work downtown and walk the Main Street Mall daily (sometimes multiple times each day). If I give once, will I be pegged as an easy target? Will I have to give every day? Will they come out of the woodwork and follow me? But you are right. To harden my heart and not sympathize with their plight (real or manufactured) means that I lose a bit of myself — the kindness I used to have. Thank you for sharing your dilemma. Doing so has helped me work through my own issue with it. Additionally, the Emily Fisher story was brilliantly written and quite moving.

 

~ Dorchelle T. Spence

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