​Convincing physicians to come to Burns Lake has never been an easy task—and getting them to stay, even more difficult.

Dr. Thomas Carlyle Holmes was a notable exception. Holmes, the son of a physician who practiced in Ontario for fifty years before retiring to Victoria, arrived here with his wife Margaret Muirhead in February 1929, beginning twenty-six years of service to the area.

A graduate of McGill Medical School who had previously practiced in Lillooet, Holmes was described as “a man with a sharp profile, a determined mouth, and kind, compassionate eyes . . . [who] spoke with a slow, nasal drawl.” He was a surgeon and a specialist in obstetrics, and, by all accounts, the epitome of a rural physician. Old-timers say he never refused a call, and that on more than one occasion, he risked his own life to save another. Little deterred him; he declined social invitations that placed him beyond the reach of his patients, and would ski or snowshoe miles to reach people in need.

“Once, we particularly wanted Dr. and Mrs. Holmes to come to the ski cabin on a ski party, but the doctor said that he could not consider it as he could not take his car, and he might be needed,” noted Bill and Jean McKenna more than two decades after the physician’s arrival in Burns Lake.

Newspapers of the day regularly reported on the exploits of Burns Lake’s pioneer physician. His expert care helped save the life of a mining engineer attacked by a grizzly bear in September 1929, and a year later, he treated Ootsa Lake prospector George Seel for serious burns sustained in a mishap with a gas lantern.

He once operated on a patient by the light of an automobile’s headlights. “One night, the phone [in the hospital] rang just after the arrival of the eastbound train,” wrote a former member of the hospital staff. “A very sick young woman was aboard, who needed immediate attention. She was brought in, and the staff [was] all called to action, as this was to be an emergency appendectomy. The old dining room table was cleared and made ready, instruments were boiled on the wood stove, dressings were brought out that had previously been made, sterilized in the wash boiler, and dried out in the oven. Our very ingenious Dr. Holmes, in his calm, reassuring way, brought his car to the window, shining the headlights on the dining room table so that he would have light to operate. The operation was a success regardless of the lack of conveniences; not the slightest bit of infection occurred.”

Dr. Holmes shared the hardships of the Depression with understanding and humour. Money being in short supply, he willingly accepted whatever compensation his patients could provide. During those difficult years, according to Francois Lake resident Peg Deeder, he never lacked firewood and had enough wild game hanging from his back porch to feed an army.
If the good doctor had one vice, it was Scrabble. He played the game with a vengeance, often using words his opponents had never heard before. When challenged, he would calmly declare the unpronounceable string of letters to be a “medical term.”
When Dr. Holmes retired from his practice in November 1955, tributes written by grateful residents filled the local newspaper.

“There are so many of us who would be without fingers, toes, hands, or feet, not to mention our very lives, except for the skill, patience, and kindness of Dr. Holmes,” wrote Louis Grindlay “Gin” Saul and his wife, Viola. “We, as well as many other people in the district, will miss them so very much.”

Jack Brown Sr. and his wife, nurse Ella Rebecca Siteman Brown, expressed similar sentiments. “The departure of Dr. and Mrs. Holmes from our midst will leave a gap that will be hard to replace,” the Browns stated. “The doctor will be remembered by a host of friends and ex-patients for his kindness, integrity, and ability. Deep appreciation is felt for his day-by-day and night-by-night work, and of his skill, [for] which many of us who are living today are truly grateful.”

Some people, including Margaret Long and Southbank resident H. Murray, even composed poems in his honour.

After retiring, Dr. Holmes and his wife moved south, but kept in touch with their many friends in the Lakes District. The man described by many as “the best doctor Burns Lake ever had” died May 5, 1975, in North Vancouver, at the age of eighty-five.