by Martha Miller

A waiting room with rocking chairs? Country music crooning from a decades-old radio? An old tractor seat dangling from the ceiling? Patients could understandably be confused when they first arrive at Dr. Bernard Boeselt’s dental office.

In fact, a stack of current magazines, a fish tank, and a paperwork-wielding receptionist behind a sliding frosted window are about the only things that might reassure those seeking cleaner teeth or filled cavities that they have indeed arrived in the correct place. And the old-fashioned charm of the place, with enough artifacts to rival a Cracker Barrel, doesn’t end in the reception area.

Boeselt’s (“pronounced like basil the spice, with a t,” he says) examination room is an amalgamation of the latest dental technology and rusty farm equipment. Relics of bygone days such as a Texas Ranger badge, “Grandma’s washboard,” an implement that turns bulls into steers, and the working clock from a cream-colored '48 Chevrolet, adorn the barn-wood paneling. The ceiling is covered with pictures of chipmunks, deer and other creatures of the forest. Patients relax to music playing softly in the background, but it isn’t Muzak. Boeselt explains, “Oh, that’s a tape of my father and uncle jamming at Grandma’s house—40 years ago.”

A white, wooden window frame hangs on the wall over an enlarged photo of a cotton field; the actual view Boeselt’s grandmother saw when she gazed out of this window in her home in the tiny Central Texas town of Westphalia. In the other exam room, original wooden shingles from the Church of the Visitation (built in 1895 in Westphalia) hang on the wall next to an old photo of the church. “Baptisms, marriages, burials all happened in this church,” Boeselt says, referring to his family history.

Just as incongruous as the exam rooms is Boeselt’s office. An iPod lying on the desk “holds music for old people and music for young people.” Part dentist and part D.J., he adjusts the music piped into the office depending on who is coming in for an appointment. On the opposite wall is a framed, 102-year-old diploma which belonged to Boeselt’s maternal grandfather, who graduated from medical school in 1907 and practiced medicine from an office in a saloon in Westphalia. His doctor “delivery bag” is here too, replete with his medical instruments from that era.

The window frame, an antique crock once used for brewing beer and making sauerkraut by his father, and most of the other artifacts were handed down and moved to this office in San Antonio, but some came from patients who were happy to finally find a home for their family heirlooms.

A patient since the mid 1970s, native San Antonian Bill Gibbons has brought in several keepsakes over the years. He says, “Mother had things I wanted to preserve, but I don’t have the space. I donated them and knew that Dr. Boeselt would take care in displaying them. I knew they’d be in good hands.” Placed atop a filing cabinet in the receptionist’s area, the treadle or foot pedal of Gibbons’ mother’s sewing machine acts as a resting place for flourishing pots of ivy.

Gibbons adds, “Oh, and he’s a really good dentist, too.” Boeselt has never advertised his dental practice, relying on word-of-mouth, so to speak, to bring in new patients.

Boeselt grew up on the north side of downtown San Antonio and attended St. Anthony Catholic School and then Central Catholic High School. He was in the ROTC at St. Mary’s University and spent two years at Fort Hood. He served as captain in the Dental Clinic attached to the 1st Cavalry.

Boeselt opened his first office in July 1978, just a few blocks away from its current northeast side location. In 1992 when they built the new office, Boeselt wanted it to reflect a Texas theme and to remind him of home, so he started bringing in things from his house. That’s how the collection started.

Despite affection for memorabilia, Boeselt and Lynda, his wife of 33 years, get a kick out of celebrating today’s milestones. The couple has four children: Kelly, Jennifer, Katie and Joe. They just threw a “Sweet Sixteen Times 2” party for their oldest daughter, who turned 32 and are planning a “Tacky Tourist” party for another’s birthday. The kids have added a few touches to the office décor as well. They gave their dad the framed mug shots of Johnny Cash taken in 1965 in El Paso when Cash was arrested on drug charges. It hangs next to a picture of John Wayne.

Surrounding himself with family heirlooms, it is obvious Boeselt has a strong connection with his own family’s history, but he is sentimental about others’ stories as well. He keeps a ready supply of 3” x 5” index cards in his office and records stories patients tell him about their service in WWII. This generation is often modest when it comes to their heroism. Boeselt doesn’t want their efforts to be forgotten, so in his own way he is preserving U. S. history, one patient at a time.

Boeselt has taught at the Dental School at the UT Health Science Center San Antonio for more than three decades. Though some of his patients have retired, he says he won’t because, “I’m having too much fun.”

About the décor, Lynda laughs saying, “It’s better to have it up here than at home.” Her favorite catchphrase: “If it’s rusty, it must be an antique.”

She adds, “New patients are in awe. They love it! They say, ‘It’s wonderful, so relaxing.’ This is so different.”

Fun, relaxing, historical – not words normally associated with dentistry. When asked if he feels this environment puts patients at ease, Boeselt smiles and says, “I hope so.”

Gail Sims, the receptionist who has been working with Boeselt since he opened his first office some 30 years ago sums it up best, “Everybody that comes in just feels like they’re family.”