As she hurried down Fifty-sixth Street, Ida hoped for the best. Surely God was going to answer her prayers for a hospital that night. She stopped at the right address and rang the doorbell. A maid answered, and Ida handed her the letter of introduction. Soon an elderly woman appeared at the door.
“I’m Miss Taber,” the woman said, holding out her hand. “Please come in and tell me what it is you want.”
Ida was led through the hallway into a sitting room, where an old man was reading a newspaper. The man barely looked up as Miss Taber said, “This is my brother-in-law, Mr. Robert Schell. I am sure he will excuse us.”
With that she walked on into the adjoining library and asked the maid to bring them tea. Once they were settled into matching leather armchairs, Ida told Miss Taber all about the plans for the hospital in Vellore. She described the terrible night when the three women had died, and the joy it would be to save mothers and their babies. She described how her father operated on men and boys out in the open, with nothing but a sheet for an operating table.
When she was finished, Miss Taber smiled. “Well, dear,” she said, “you certainly have a passion for your cause, but I’m afraid to tell you that the Collegiate Church already sponsors many missionary projects.” She shook her head, and Ida had to fight to keep the tears from welling up in her eyes.
Miss Taber continued. “However, I see no harm in your presenting the need for a hospital to the Mission Society meeting on Monday morning. How about meeting me there at 9:15. You never know; they might vote to give you several hundred dollars.”
As Ida thanked Miss Taber for her time and got up to leave, she felt like a balloon that had just been pricked. She stumbled past Mr. Schell and out the door into the fresh air. Instead of going directly back to the house, Ida walked blocks out of her way. She needed time to calm down. But no matter how fast she walked, she could not stop thinking about the words “they might vote to give you several hundred dollars.” Several hundred dollars was a drop in the bucket compared to the needs of Indian women. Ida had been sure that the visit to Miss Taber was the answer to her problems raising money for the hospital, but it turned out to be just the same as so many other visits—a promise to listen and not much more. Ida wondered whether she should return to India without the money or stay behind in the United States and keep trying to raise it. She prayed about what to do, but no answer came.
Chapter 7
Provision
Ida arrived at breakfast the next morning still not knowing what she should do. She had just finished buttering a piece of toast for herself when the maid came in with a note on a tray.
“For you, Dr. Scudder,” she said.
Ida took the note and opened it. The handwriting was a little shaky, but the message was unmistakable. “Please visit me at your earliest convenience tomorrow morning at my sister-in-law’s house.” The note was signed “Robert Schell.”
Ida read the note out loud to Katharine.
“You didn’t tell me that you met with Miss Taber’s brother-in-law,” Katharine said.
“Well, I didn’t really,” Ida responded, puzzling over what the old man could want. “I just said hello to him as I walked through the room. He was reading the newspaper, and he hardly looked up.”
“But he wants to see you. Do you know what that could mean?” Katharine asked.
“No,” Ida stammered.
“Mr. Schell is the president of the Bank of the Metropolis in New York. Of course, he is very wealthy. Perhaps he is interested in your work, Ida!”
“But I didn’t even tell him about it.”
Katharine laughed. “Dear, there is only one way to find out what he wants, and that’s to put on your hat and coat after breakfast tomorrow and pay him a visit.”
Ida nervously ate her toast and boiled egg. What was it the old man wanted?
Ida was nervous all day long, and then at eight o’clock the following morning, she walked back to Miss Taber’s house. Soon she was being escorted to the same room she had been in two days before. Only this time Robert Schell was seated behind a desk, glasses perched on the end of his nose doing some figuring. He looked up as Ida entered the room.
“Come in. Please sit down,” Mr. Schell said. “I must confess I overheard your conversation with my sister-in-law the day before yesterday, and I have a few questions I want to ask you.”
Ida nodded, and Mr. Schell opened a notebook on the desk. He started down a list of questions that covered everything from what buildings were constructed of in Vellore to whether a railway station served the town to what Ida’s qualifications were.
Of course Ida admitted that she presently did not have the qualifications to run the hospital, but she assured Mr. Schell that her father would be at her side until she learned enough about medical conditions in India to do it herself. She anticipated this would take about four years.
Finally Mr. Schell ran out of questions to ask. He leaned forward in his chair and picked up a pen. “You have answered my questions well,” he said. “For some time I have been looking for a suitable way to honor my wife’s memory, and I think I have found it. While she was alive, she took a great interest in missions and particularly in the welfare of women in foreign lands.” His voice choked as he spoke. He then abruptly reached for a checkbook and wrote out a check. “Here,” he said. “I know you were asking for eight thousand dollars to get the hospital up and running, but I have decided to give you ten thousand dollars. I want this hospital to be worthy of my wife’s memory.”
Ida’s hands trembled as she reached for the check. It was overwhelming to think that the piece of paper she held in her hand represented enough money to buy a whole hospital! As she thanked Mr. Schell, she wondered how many lives would be saved as a result of his generosity.
“One more thing,” Mr. Schell said. “I suppose you will be importing the equipment you need from the United States, is that right?”
“Yes,” Ida replied. “There is very little equipment available in India.”
“That’s what I thought,” Mr. Schell said. “It’s no use having a hospital without equipment, is it? How about we go to a medical supply store together, and you can pick out what you need. I’ll write a check to cover the cost of it. I believe you have a meeting at my sister-in-law’s church at ten o’clock, so I will pick you up there at 12:30, and we will go shopping. How would that be?”
“Wonderful,” Ida replied. “Simply wonderful.”
An hour later Ida found herself standing in front of the Missionary Society of the Collegiate Church. Instead of asking for money to build the hospital, she was able to tell the women that the money had been supplied. However, Ida took the opportunity to tell those in attendance about the need for staff for the hospital and how her friend Annie Hancock was looking for people to sponsor her so that she could go and work alongside Ida.
When Ida was finished, the mission secretary thanked her for her presentation and promised that the group would consider helping Annie in some modest way, if and when they had some extra money.
Ida was not terribly disappointed by this response; she was still so excited that the hospital and equipment were all paid for. But when the meeting was over, a small group of women clustered around Ida, wanting to know more about her work in Vellore. One petite woman with piercing black eyes caught Ida’s attention.
“I am Gertrude Dodd,” the woman said quietly. “My two sisters are here with me, and we have been discussing your situation. We think it is such a pity that your friend is ready and willing to go to India and no one will send her, so we have decided to take care of her expenses. You tell your friend she is going with you to India.”
Ida felt her eyes misting over. “I can’t tell you… how much…how much this means to me,” she sputtered.
“You don’t have to,” Gertrude replied, patting Ida’s arm. “I can see how much you care for those Indian women. And I am sure your friend will be a great help to you.”
Ida was still in a state of shock when Robert Schell’s carriage rolled up and a coachman swept open the door for her. She felt like a princess as the horses pulled her along Fifth Avenue to the medical supply store, where Mr. Schell insisted she select all of the fittings and instruments she could possibly want for the hospital. Then he asked for it all to be crated up so that it could sail on the same ship as Ida.
The ship, with Ida and Annie aboard, sailed from New York for Madras on Monday, November 22, 1899. The voyage was expected to take seven weeks, but with favorable winds and currents, it took only six. During the voyage Ida celebrated her twenty-ninth birthday.
On the first day of the new year, January 1, 1900, Ida Scudder finally set foot back in India. To Ida it seemed like a wonderful day to start her new life as a doctor in India. By that evening Ida was back in Vellore with her parents, who were thrilled to see her and Annie. Ida’s parents had gotten to know Annie while they were in the United States on furlough.
Even though Ida was tired from the trip, she was alert enough to notice that her father was slower than she remembered him. When she was alone with her mother, she asked about her father. Her mother told her that he had not been the same since he inoculated himself against cholera. Ida thought that the inoculation might have been too strong, but all she could do was watch over her father and hope that he got healthy again.
Ida tried to work alongside her father, but it was not easy. Nobody appeared to trust her. No matter how small their problem, the men who came to the clinic all wanted her father to treat them, and no women sought out her services either.
In the meantime Annie fit right in to the work at Vellore. She starting visiting the homes in town that were hospitable to missionaries, and she made friends with many of the women. Ida reminded Annie to tell the women that there was a female doctor who could treat them now, and she prayed that someone would ask for her services soon. After all, if she could not attract one female patient, what was the point of building an entire hospital for them?
Finally, three weeks after her arrival back in India, a young boy tugged on Ida’s sleeve. “Missy Doctor Ammal?” he asked.
“Yes,” Ida replied in Tamil, “I am a doctor.”
“The old woman at my house is very sick. Will you come?”
That was just the question Ida wanted to hear. In one movement she scooped up her medical bag and headed for the door. She had the stable boy harness the pony and carriage in record time, and she beckoned the young boy to climb on board with her. Not waiting for a servant to drive them, Ida took the reins and urged the pony out the gate and on down the street.
The pony trotted through the dusty streets toward the bazaar. As they made their way, the boy pointed to Fort Hill Street and then jumped off the carriage. Ida drew the carriage to a sudden halt and jumped off after the boy.
“Why are you leaving me?” Ida asked.
It took a minute or two for her to understand, but with a combination of gestures and Tamil she learned that the boy belonged to a low caste and could not go down that particular street to the house because many people of high caste lived on the street. He would have to go the long way around.
Ida was so frustrated with the whole caste system that she wanted to lecture the boy on how ridiculous it all was, but she remembered her errand and left it at that. She turned the carriage onto Fort Hill Street and, following the boy’s instructions, was able to locate a house with a carved doorway and three pillars. The door swung open on a woman who cowered in the dimly lit room. The woman beckoned, and Ida followed her down a passageway, through a courtyard, and into another dark room.
Ida squinted to adjust to the darkness, annoyed at the Indian custom of keeping sick people in a dark, airless environment. Then Ida heard a moan from the corner and noticed the outline of a woman lying on a mat. She hurried over to the woman, knelt down, and felt her forehead. It was cold. She reached for the woman’s wrist and held it a long time trying to locate a pulse. Eventually she felt a faint rhythm.
