About nyamhistory

The Center for the History of Medicine and Public Health, which includes the Library, promotes the scholarly and public understanding of the history of medicine and public health and the history of the book. Established in 2012, the Center aims to build bridges among an interdisciplinary community of scholars, educators, clinicians, curatorial and conservation professionals, and the general public. The Center’s Library is one of the largest medical collections in the United States open to the general public, to whom it has been available since 1878.

Color Your Heart Out at the Museum Mile Festival

Museum Mile street sign

Part of Museum Mile!

The New York Academy of Medicine is once again participating in the annual Museum Mile Festival! This year’s event will be held on Tuesday, June 11th from 6:00pm-9:00pm and will feature lots of fun activities and performances, as well as free admission to eight museums along Museum Mile (Fifth Avenue in Manhattan from 82nd to 110th Streets).

Cover of NYAM 2019 Coloring Book

Can’t make it to Museum Mile? Our coloring books are online, too!

We’ll be offering coloring pages using images from our collections and crayons. We hope you’ll stop by our table at 103rd Street!

The Medical Journals of U.S.-Occupied Haiti

This guest post is by Matthew Davidson, a doctoral candidate at the University of Miami and the 2019 Paul Klemperer Fellow at the New York Academy of Medicine. His research examines public health in Haiti during the 1915-1934 U.S. occupation.

During the nineteen years of the early twentieth century that the United States occupied Haiti (1915-1934), U.S. officials liked to claim that they had brought modern medical thought to the Caribbean country. Their contention was bunk, but it apparently felt very real when the Haitian physician, Dr. François Dalencour, received a letter from a French colleague asking for copies of any Haitian medical publications. “I was ashamed,” Dalencour later wrote, “of being obliged to tell the truth, to say that there were none. [i] He would have been able to send along reports authored by the occupation medical service, but there was apparently nothing current otherwise. Haiti, Dalencour decided, needed a medical journal.

Soon after, he established one.

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The first issue of Le Journal Médical Haïtien (NYAM). 

The occupation, it turns out, was indeed an important period for Haitian medical thought. As was the case in other fields, it provoked a flurry of intellectual production. Consequently, whereas doctors such as Dalencour lamented the lack of Haitian medical publications at the start, by the end the local medical establishment could boast of several. U.S. officials claimed this was a sign of how far medicine in Haiti had “progressed” under their tutelage, but it was truly more the product of Haiti’s own medical tradition. [ii] Meant to advance medical practice and public health policy, the journals provided a forum for Haitian practitioners to debate and discuss all sorts of matters related to health and medicine in the country.

Dalencour’s periodical, Le Journal Médical Haïtien, was arguably the most important of the occupation-era publications. Not only was it the first, founded in May 1920, but it also did the most to open up space for the Haitian medical profession to articulate ideas and positions about their field. With U.S. personnel otherwise completely dominating all aspects of medicine and public health in Haiti, Le Journal Médical Haïtien was the only venue (outside of individual private practices) actually controlled by Haitians. It accordingly brought together “all members of the Haitian Medical Corps, without any distinction”: doctors, pharmacists, dentists and midwives. [iii] In doing so, the journal bridged longstanding divisions within the medical corps and laid the foundation for further independent initiative.

As Le Journal Médical Haïtien facilitated the reorganization of the Haitian medical profession, it also laid bare the lie that the occupation brought medical modernity to the country. After all, it was not because the U.S. introduced “scientific medicine” or any other set of ideas to Haiti that the journal appeared. Rather, it had its genesis in the pre-occupation period. As Dalencour wrote in the first issue, the project was first conceived in 1903. He was still a medical student at the time, so establishing a journal for medical reform was a “somewhat pretentious idea.” [iv] Nonetheless, it was then, well before the Americans landed, that the first steps were taken to establish a “general review of the medical movement in Haiti” (as Le Journal Médical Haïtien was later billed). The principles laid out by Dalencour and his collaborators in 1920 were even the same as those declared in 1903. All that had changed was the name. Dalencour had originally chosen the title Haïti Médicale, but – further reflecting the strength of Haiti’s pre-occupation medical and intellectual traditions – another journal had taken that name in 1910. [v]

The next to emerge was Les Annales de Médecine Haïtienne. Established in 1923 by two young doctors, Drs. N. St. Louis and F. Coicou, Les Annales was associated with a newly reorganized union, le Syndicat des Médecins. Much more oppositional in outlook, the journal was conceived as an “organ for the expansion of medicine in Haiti and for the defense of the interests of the medical corps.” [vi] Explicitly anti-occupation, it actively contested the U.S. health project in Haiti and worked to organize Haitian doctors against it under the auspices of le Syndicat des Médecins. It was not merely a political publication, though, for it also carried articles dedicated to public health education and research in the medical sciences. Over time, such articles became more and more prominent, and as the occupation ended Les Annales de Médecine Haïtienne essentially transitioned to purely scientific journal. U.S. medical sciences, however, continued to be received coolly.

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May-June 1932 issue of Les Annales de Médecine Haïtienne (Schomburg Center, NYPL).

The last of the occupation-era publications was the only one that owed its existence to the occupation health project. The Bulletin de la Société de Médecine d’Haïti, founded with that society in 1927, was the sole journal fostered by U.S. officials, and it was the only one to have U.S. practitioners on its editorial board or to publish articles authored by occupation doctors. The society itself was organized and controlled by the occupation health service, the Service d’Hygiène. Accordingly, most independent doctors (i.e., those not directly employed by the Service d’Hygiène) tended to find the Société “too American” and remained outside of it. [vii] Nonetheless, the Bulletin was more than just an American journal based in Haiti.

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The first issue of the Bulletin de la Société de Médecine d’Haïti (NYAM).

The Bulletin de la Société de Médecine d’Haïti was an important register for the medical sciences in Haiti. From 1927 until the end of the occupation, it published an impressive array of scholarship, much of it by Haitian practitioners. With an emphasis on medical specialization, it tended to be more concerned with the medical sciences than with public health policy or practice, and it accordingly developed a reputation for being the most scientific of the journals. As a project, however, the Bulletin mostly just brought to fruition ideas and proposals first put forth in the pages of Le Journal Médical Haïtien (or by the 1890 Société de Médecine de Port-au-Prince before that). In form as much as in content, then, the Bulletin was as Haitian as it was American. Consequently, when the American editors shuttered the journal in 1934 with the end of the occupation, the Haitian medical establishment remained committed to the project: it lived on as the Bulletin du Service d’Hygiene et d’Assistance Publique – Medicale et Sanitaire.

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The first issue of the Bulletin du Service d’Hygiene et d’Assistance Publique – Medicale et Sanitaire (NYAM).

Each of these journals have largely been overlooked by historians, despite being incredibly rich sources. With their debates about public health policy, research on various health matters, clinical notes, correspondence between doctors and medical officials, translated articles from abroad, social commentary, and more, they offer significant insight into the state of medical care and the politics of health during the occupation. They would also be of interest to anyone thinking about Haitian social and intellectual history more generally. Few copies of each journal still exist, but they – with the exception of Les Annales – can be found at the New York Academy of Medicine library.

References

[i] Dalencour, François, « En Manière de Programme. » Le Journal Médical Haïtien (Première Année, No. 1, May, 1920; New York Academy of Medicine Library).

[ii] See, for instance, Parsons, Robert P., History of Haitian Medicine (New York: Paul B. Hoeber Inc., 1930).

[iii] Dalencour, François, « En Manière de Programme. » Le Journal Médical Haïtien (Première Année, No. 1, May, 1920; New York Academy of Medicine Library).

[iv] Dalencour, François, « En Manière de Programme. » Le Journal Médical Haïtien (Première Année, No. 1, May, 1920; New York Academy of Medicine Library).

[v] Haïti Médicale was published from 1910-1913, and then was briefly revived again in 1920.

[vi] Les Annales de Médecine Haitienne (9eme Année, No. 3 &4, Mars-Avril 1932; Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, New York Public Library).

[vii] Bordes, Ary, Haïti Médecine et Santé Publique sous l’Occupation Américaine, 1915-1934 (Haiti: Imprimerie Deschamps, 1992), 300.

NYAM’s First Female Fellow: Mary Putnam Jacobi

By Carrie Levinson, Reference Services and Outreach Librarian

The history of the New York Academy of Medicine (NYAM) includes many great figures, including Samuel Smith Purple, a founding Fellow as well as advocate for our Library, author of a large number of medical works, and the ward physician under the Board of Health during the NYC cholera epidemic of 1849 (“Dr. Samuel Smith Purple”, 1900); Valentine Mott, an eminent surgeon who helped to found Rutgers Medical College and was chair of surgery at Columbia College (“Obituary: Death of Dr. Valentine Mott”, 1865); and Abraham Jacobi, a pioneer in pediatrics and President of the Academy from 1885-1889 (Watson, 1896). These doctors all had one thing in common (besides, of course, being physicians): they were all men. Until 1880, there had never been a female NYAM Fellow. The woman who managed to break this glass ceiling? Mary Putnam Jacobi – by one vote (U.S. National Library of Medicine, 2015).

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Mary Putnam Jacobi (Watson, 1896).

Mary Putnam was born on August 31, 1842, in London. Her parents, who were both Americans, returned to the States in 1847, and settled in New York City. In 1859, she began studying medicine, first receiving a diploma from the New York College of Pharmacy in 1862 (the first woman to do this) and then graduating with her MD from the Woman’s Medical College of Pennsylvania in 1864. In 1866, she traveled to Paris to enroll in the École de Médecine – once again, the first woman to be admitted – and graduated from there in 1871 (Watson, 1896).

Just these accomplishments would have been enough to put Putnam in the history books, but she hadn’t even begun to make her mark. Women’s education at the time was often separate from men’s, and she argued that higher education, particularly medical school, should be co-educational, as women’s medical colleges did not have the same resources as those affiliated with large hospitals. Returning to New York, she organized the Association for the Advancement of the Medical Education of Women and served as its president for almost 30 years (U.S. National Library of Medicine, 2015).

In 1876, Jacobi (now married to Abraham Jacobi) published an important essay: “The Question of Rest for Women during Menstruation”, which won the Boylston Prize at Harvard University (U.S. National Library of Medicine, 2015). Why was that so significant?

Jacobi was a stickler for rigor in scientific research. She believed that many other doctors did not live up to these expectations and allowed their biases to color their research. One of these biases was the widespread belief, specifically argued for in Edward H. Clarke’s Sex in Education; or, a Fair Chance for the Girls, that women who exerted themselves during menstruation could face serious health issues. This belief was used to justify separating women from higher education and certain professions. Relying heavily on statistics and empirical evidence, Jacobi thoroughly debunked this notion (Bittel, 2009).

Jacobi continued her work in fighting for equality for women throughout her lifetime – she wrote in favor of suffrage and taught at the Women’s Medical College of the New York Infirmary for Women and Children until 1889, assisting in elevating educational standards (U.S. National Library of Medicine, 2015).

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Letter from Mary Putnam Jacobi to Sophie Boaz, February 27, 1884, documenting Jacobi’s son’s death from diphtheria, a major public health problem at the time. NYAM Collection.

Jacobi even considered her own life as a means to advance medical research – when diagnosed with a brain tumor, she wrote a paper about it before passing on at the age of 63: “Description of the Early Symptoms of the Meningeal Tumor Compressing the Cerebellum. From Which the Writer Died. Written by Herself” (U. S. National Library of Medicine, 2015).

NYAM’s collection of Mary Putnam Jacobi’s productions can be found in our catalog.

References

Bittel, C. (2009). Mary Putnam Jacobi & the politics of medicine in nineteenth-century America. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press.

Dr. Samuel Smith Purple. (1900, October 1). The New York Times. Retrieved from https://www.nytimes.com

Obituary: Death of Dr. Valentine Mott. (1865, April 27). The New York Times. Retrieved from https://www.nytimes.com/

U.S. National Library of Medicine. (2015, June 3). Changing the Face of Medicine: Dr. Mary Corinna Putnam Jacobi. Retrieved from https://cfmedicine.nlm.nih.gov/physicians/biography_163.html

Watson, I. A. (Ed.). (1896). Physicians and surgeons of America: A collection of biographical sketches of the regular medical profession. Concord, NH: Republican Press Association.

“Alas, Poor Daft Jamie’s Pickled!”: Poetry Concerning the Resurrectionists

By Carrie Levinson, Reference Services and Outreach Librarian

You may have heard about “Resurrection Men” – people who robbed graves and even killed people to fill the unprecedented demand for cadavers in medical schools in the nineteenth century. You may have even heard the names William Burke and William Hare: two of the most notorious body-snatchers and murderers who ever lived. But did you know that there is poetry about these bizarre and tragic events?

 The New York Academy of Medicine Library has a digital collection, The Resurrectionists, which contains broadsides, ballads, pamphlets, poetry, and other literature concerning Burke and Hare, their accomplices, and their victims. Since it is National Poetry Month, we’ve decided to feature some of the poetry contained in this collection.

First, however, a little bit of background. William Burke and William Hare were two ne’er-do-wells in 1820s Scotland who enjoyed drinking and working as little as possible (Barzun, 1974). When another occupant in their lodging house passed away from natural causes, they sold the body. Soon they found that bodies for the medical schools (particularly, the anatomy and physiology class in Edinburgh taught by Dr. Robert Knox) were in high demand, but not in ready supply. To capitalize on this newly-discovered stream of funds, the group quickly turned to murder. Their first victim was likely a miller by the name of Joe, and more followed (Barzun, 1974).

Unfortunately for them, Burke, Hare, and their accomplices made a number of mistakes resulting in their capture: they murdered a prostitute by the name of Mary Paterson, who was a client of one of the doctors and whom he recognized (though he kept quiet at the time); they also killed a well-known and -liked young man known in town as Daft Jamie, whose disappearance was immediately noted and speculated upon (bringing suspicion upon Dr. Knox as well); and they also began to quarrel amongst themselves. Their arrest came after a couple who knew their last victim, Mrs. Docherty, went to the police (Barzun, 1974).

 

 

 

Hare was offered immunity to testify against Burke and Helen MacDougal, Burke’s mistress. After the trial, deliberations took less than an hour: Burke was declared guilty, while MacDougal went free. Burke’s punishment: he was to be publicly hanged, his skin to be tanned and sold in strips, and his body to be dissected and then lectured upon, much like the bodies he had murdered for profit (Barzun, 1974). Burke was hanged on January 28, 1829, and his skeleton is still on view in the Anatomical Museum of the Edinburgh Medical School. Hare left Edinburgh in disguise and soon disappeared. One enduring legacy was a new verb, to burke, originally meaning to kill by smothering (in order to leave a good body to dissect!), and now broadened to mean to suppress.

 

A huge amount of literature was generated from these morbid events, including, arguably, the genre of crime fiction (Barzun, 1974). Here are a few examples of the poetry: one, an elegy for William Burke, and two poems lamenting the death of Daft Jamie (Jamie Wilson).

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We hope you will peruse this collection and marvel at the many effects Burke and Hare’s dastardly deeds had on the law, medicine, and literature. Perhaps you’ll be inspired to write a poem of your own!

  References

Barzun, J. (1974). Murder for profit and for science. In J. Barzun (Ed.), Burke and Hare: Resurrection men: A collection of contemporary documents including broadsides, occasional verses, illustrations, polemics, and a complete transcript of the testimony at the trial (pp. v-xii). Metuchen, NJ: Scarecrow Press.

Finding Cause in Street Cleanliness:  The Citizens’ Association of New York Report of 1865

By Anne Garner, Curator, Rare Books and Manuscripts

It’s 1863. New York’s streets are dismal.  Downtown, the scents of manure, garbage and chemicals permeate the air.  The streets are littered with debris, and in some places, are navigable only by wading through standing water. The gaps between cobblestones catch sewage and other dirt discharged from nearby tenements.

Public health statisticians estimate that New York has upwards of 200,000 cases of preventable and needless sickness every year. The Board of Health, controlled by corrupt politicians, is ineffective.  In newspapers like Frank Leslie’s Illustrated News and Harper’s Weekly, the condition of New York’s thoroughfares is a punchline. Editorials, cartoons and newspaper stories blame immigrant populations, the poor, and an indifferent municipal government. [1]

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T. Bernhard Gillam, “The Streets of New York,” Harper’s Weekly, February 26, 1881.

What to do?  In December of that same year, a group of citizens met with Mayor Gunther, the recently elected reform candidate to consider the city’s social problems. The following year, these concerned citizens formed the Citizens’ Association of New York, dedicated to a cause they describe in simple terms: “public usefulness.” [2]  The organization quickly determined that physicians should play a prominent role in sanitary reform, and organized the Association’s Special Council of Hygiene and Public Health. [3]

In May of 1864, the Council embarked on a street-by-street sanitary inspection of New York City. Medical inspectors – all physicians—were assigned to 31 districts throughout the city in an attempt to gather detailed information about New Yorkers and their living conditions. For seven months, the inspectors visited every household in Manhattan and used a nine-page survey as their guide. [4]

​​During the course of the survey, the inspectors filled seventeen volumes of observations and notes comprising the most “precise and exacting account of a city’s health and social conditions ever compiled.” Many of these notebooks, including some remarkable hand-drawn maps, are available at The New-York Historical Society. The image below is taken from the Society’s archives and shows a tenant house for 200 people at 311 Monroe Street, in the 9th District. [5]

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Record of Sanitary Inquiry, 7th ward, 9th District, {BV Citizens’ Association}. Reposted with permission of the New-York Historical Society.

This survey, presented by medical inspector William Hunter to former New York Academy of Medicine President Joseph M. Smith, records the living conditions of a family of three recent Irish immigrants living in a three-story tenement on W. 14th Street in late October of 1864. The unit was comprised of David, age 30, described in the survey as an “intelligent but uneducated” gardener, Ellen, age 28, and Margaret, age 6. The survey suggests that all three family members had typhoid fever, likely contracted on their journey to America from Ireland just a few months before.  Though the family’s living conditions were described as “good,” Hunter notes that the six families in their apartment were living in close quarters in just six rooms, with only two windows as a source of light and ventilation, and in such proximity to the horse stable that the horse could freely wander into their hallway. [6]

Surveys of this depth and length were kept for every household throughout the city’s 31 wards.  Wards were frequently assigned to physicians who knew the neighborhoods and the residents.  Most of the residents were given a thorough medical exam, and the nuisances of their environment were recorded in detail. [7]  Each ward’s physician contributed a district report, summarizing their findings. Ezra Pulling, who was the sanitary inspector for the fourth ward, contributed a report on his district and his data was poured into the making of this extraordinary map, published along with the report in 1865.  ​

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Map of the Fourth Ward of the City of New York. Report of the Council of Hygiene and Public Health of the Citizens’ Association of New York. New York:  Appleton, 1865.

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Fourth Ward map, detail of Gotham Court

The long, rectangular building that you see here at the center of this detail is a tenant house called Gotham Court.  The stars here indicate that outbreaks of typhus and smallpox have occurred in the house.  Privies in the basement were discharged into subterranean drains or sewers that run through each alley and then outside through grated openings, blocking much of the waste. Inside, each individual has an average of 275 cubic feet.  If these dimensions are difficult to picture, imagine a closet 5 feet square and 11 feet high, allotted per person, for their body and for everything they own as well. Nineteen children were recorded as unvaccinated for smallpox (the only vaccine available at this time) here, and it was also noted that clothes were being manufactured in the building as well—clothes that were exposed to cases of typhus and measles. [8]

In another section of the map, we see a number of tenant houses north of the Bowery surrounded by stables, with a brewery and a coal yard at the east.  Less than 30 percent of the privies in this district are connected with drains and sewers, and at least ten of these, as marked on the map by black squares, are in extremely offensive condition. A number of these are indicated on the map below.

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Fourth Ward map, detail of the Bowery

The impact of the publication of the Citizens’ Association report and the map itself was mixed. The report led to higher sanitation standards throughout the city, and forced the attention of government officials, who passed a law to create the Board of Health.[9]  Under this law, at least three of the Board’s nine commissioners needed to be physicians. Though the Council went to great lengths to visually and verbally document the city’s housing conditions, the Council didn’t investigate wage equity or the frequency and rate of unemployment. Historian Elizabeth Blackmar has argued that “the surveys fueled the movement for developing building codes and sanitary inspection as a means of guaranteeing better housing, but they also erased from discussion reflection on the larger economic relations that produced them.” [10]  In some cases, the report’s writers unfairly drew a line of causation directly from better living conditions to economic security, implying that given the right housing, the poor could flourish, independent of employment opportunities, fare wages, and access to healthcare.

In spite of its shortcomings, the report offered keen observations about the city’s conditions, and was instrumental in inspiring great reform in the city.  Today, IMAGE NYC, a project launched by the Academy with the CUNY Mapping Service at the Center for Urban Research / CUNY Graduate Center earlier this year, embraces the methodology the Citizens’ Association deployed over 150 years ago, and largely for the same reason: to better understand the social determinants of health.  The site has an interactive map of New York City’s current and projected population, 65 and older.  Much like the Citizens’ Association map, the idea is to determine environmental risks and benefits to certain populations.  Here, instead of physicians canvassing the neighborhoods to note conditions, community members can use the 311 app to take pictures and send them to the city.

The Fourth Ward Map, published as part of the 1865 Report of the Council of Hygiene and Public Health, as well as the 1864 survey form documenting the household of the Irish immigrants living on 14th street, are on view in Germ City: Microbes and the Metropolis, until this Sunday, April 28th.

References

[1] Bert Hansen. “The Image and Advocacy of Public Health in American Caricature and Cartoons from 1860 to 1900.”  American Journal of Public Health. Nov. 1997, v. 87, no. 11.

[2] Report of the Council of Hygiene and Public Health of the Citizens’ Association of New York. New York: Appleton, 1865, P. vii.

[3] John Duffy.  A History of Public Health in New York City 1625-1866.  New York: Russell Sage, 1968. Pp. 553-556.

[4] Report of the Council of Hygiene and Public Health of the Citizens’ Association of New York. New York:  Appleton, 1865.

[5] See also the excellent blog by Reference Librarian Mariam Touba of The New York Historical Society, here.

[6] Citizens’ Association of New York: Council of Hygiene and Public Health. Report of pestilential diseases and insalubrious quarters. New York: n.p., 1864.

[7] Duffy, p. 556.

[8] Report of the Council of Hygiene and Public Health…1865. P. 49-54.

[9] Duffy, 557.

[10] Elizabeth Blackmar.  “Accountability for Public Health: Regulating the Housing Market in Nineteenth-Century New York City.” In Hives of Sickness, edited by David Rosner. Rutgers University Press, 1995. Pp. 42-64.

Women’s Work in “Behind the Scenes in a Restaurant”

By Carrie Levinson, Reference Services and Outreach Librarian

We tend to take labor laws for granted nowadays. There are limits in many jobs to how many hours one can work, minimum wage determinations, and other protections for those in the workforce. However, this was not always the case, particularly for certain kinds of workers. In the early twentieth century, for example, these laws had nothing to say about women in many professions, such as those working in restaurants. This resulted in long, grueling hours for many women, without respite or protection from exploitation.

Eight hours of work versus fifteen for restaurant workers

Fig. 1. Diagrams showing the normal working day versus a restaurant worker’s day. Consumers’ League of New York City (1916). Behind the scenes in a restaurant: A study of 1017 women restaurant employees. New York, NY: Author.

The Consumers’ League of New York City was alarmed by this, and decided to conduct a study, which turned into the pamphlet “Behind the Scenes in a Restaurant: A Study of 1017 Women Restaurant Employees.” The study had three aims: to find out the actual labor conditions in New York State restaurants; to determine whether these labor conditions led to a “wholesome, normal life” for the workers in these restaurants; and to see how these conditions impacted society as a whole (1916, pp. 3-4).

One thousand seventeen women were surveyed for this over the course of five months, in different locations such as their homes, their workplaces, and employment agencies. In New York City, all the interviews were given at the Occupational Clinic of the Board of Health (Consumers’ League of New York City, 1916, p. 3).  The workers came from all types of restaurants, allowing the League to get a representative sample of participants. Women of all ages were asked, as well as women of different nationalities (though women of color were noticeably absent). The largest group interviewed here was “Austro-Hungarian” (39%), followed by “American” (presumably meaning non-immigrants) (33%), German (8%), Irish (7%), Russian (4%), “Other”, (4%), English & Canadian (3%), and Polish (3%). While there is clearly an effort to be inclusive, there is still racist/ethnicist ideology that creeps in:

The largest single group is made up of Austro-Hungarians. The demand for cheap, unskilled labor in this occupation calls for the kind of service which these girls and others of the European peasant class can give. The outdoor life in the fields of their native land fits them for the hard labor required in a restaurant kitchen (Consumers’ League of New York City, 1916, p. 8).

Despite this language, the League was extremely concerned over the exploitation of these workers, noting that many worked 15-hour days (Fig. 1). Seventy-eight percent of workers exceeded a 54-hour week (Fig. 2), which was prohibited for women who worked in stores and factories. One of the participants, a 20-year old woman, worked 122 hours a week (Consumers’ League of New York City, 1916, p. 13)!

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Fig. 2. Weekly hours of labor of women employed in restaurants. Behind the scenes in a restaurant… (1916).

The long hours (Fig. 3) were not the only thing this report examined. Other issues included tipping, irregularity of work, and the low wages earned by many in the profession. Such practices prevented these women from having regular social or family lives and had deleterious effects on their health.

The Consumers’ League argued that because of these conditions, a regular working day for restaurant workers was “not only reasonable, but…essential to the best welfare of their people as a whole” (1916, p. 28). They recommended a legislative amendment under the already-existing Mercantile Law.

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Fig. 3. A movie of the restaurant worker. Behind the scenes in a restaurant… (1916).

Did restaurant workers in New York State get the protections they so desperately needed after this report was published? Not immediately. By 1933, a New York law limiting the amount of hours women could work was passed, but then it was struck down by the Supreme Court in 1936. Women restaurant workers had to wait until the federal Fair Labor Standards Act was passed in 1938 to have the right to a minimum wage and overtime (Hart, 1994).

Although it did not instantly better the situations of women working in restaurant positions, this report and others like it raised awareness of what it was like to be working in these conditions, and they remain as a testament to those who toiled for long hours to clean, prepare, and serve food to so many others.

This book and other recent acquisitions will be on display and available for “adoption” at the Celebration of the Library night, also featuring a lecture by New Yorker author John Colapinto. Join us on April 11th at the Academy!

References

Consumers’ League of New York City (1916). Behind the scenes in a restaurant: A study of 1017 women restaurant employees. New York, NY: Author.

Hart, V. (1994). Bound by our Constitution: Women, workers and the minimum wage. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

Death, Deformity, Decay: Memento Mori and the Case of the Colloredo Twins

This guest post is by Rach Klein. Rach is an art history Masters Candidate at McGill University whose research focuses on the early modern grotesque, medical illustration, and print. She is a current recipient of a Joseph-Armand Bombardier grant, as well as a Michael Smith Foreign Studies scholarship.

Throughout the last month I have had the privilege of working in the NYAM Library, looking directly at their remarkable collection of broadsheets and rare books.  The opportunity to closely examine the objects and images that I am studying is unparalleled. My research locates a framework for viewing 17th-century non-normative and “freakish” bodies in the memento mori traditions of the previous century. Memento mori, a Latin phrase meaning, “remember you will die,” became shorthand for a host of visual imagery and cultural objects rooted in medieval Christian theory, which permeated the European early modern.  With a specific focus on the culture of spectacle employed by early modern “shows of wonder” and touring freak shows, the research that I have been doing at NYAM combines visual analysis with medical history and disability studies to suggest that integral to the creation of early modern “freaks” is a manipulation of non-normative persons into objects that spark mortuary contemplation. Guiding this research is the case of Italian conjoined/parasitic twins Lazarus Colloredo and Joannes Baptista Colloredo (1617–1646). Their journey, which is remarkably well-documented in both text and image (for example, see Fig. 1), showcases the duality of the so-called “freak body” and its links to mortuary philosophy.

Historia Ænigmatica, de gemellis Genoæ connati

Fig. 1. Mylbourne, R. (Publisher). (1637). Historia Ænigmatica, de gemellis Genoæ connatis, [Engraving]. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Licensed under CC-BY-NC-SA 4.0.

In 1617, Lazarus and Joannes Baptista Colloredo were born into a life of spectacle and uncertainty. Protruding laterally from the breast of Lazarus was his twin brother, Joannes Baptista, whose malformed body lived partially inside him. Unable to speak or move independently, Joannes Baptista was deemed a “parasitic twin”.  As living persons that defy expectations of the “normative,” visual documentation of the Colloredo twins’ spectacular bodies/body provides insight into anxieties about the boundaries between animate/inanimate, normal/abnormal, beauty/ugliness, soul/body, and, ultimately, life/death. Jan Bondeson calls attention to how remarkable their story is, even within the history of conjoined twins. He says:

Conjoined twins are the result of imperfect splitting of a fertilized ovum and the site of conjunction depends on which part of the splitting has not occurred. Lazarus and Joannes Baptista Collerado represent one of the very few convincing cases of viable omphalopagus parasiticus twins (who lived).[1]

The words in parentheses here, “who lived,” iterate the challenges of piecing together a history of marginalized persons such as those who are disabled and deformed, and the gentle surprise provoked by the twins’ survival.

Perhaps the most interesting discovery found throughout my research is the nonlinear timeline in scholarship about these twins due to a misattributed/incorrectly labelled print from Giovanni Battista de’Cavalieri’s series of engravings, Opera nel a quale vie molti Mostri de tute le parti del mondo antichi et Moderni (Monsters from all parts of the ancient and modern world), published in 1585 (Fig. 2). This image, which is reprinted in Fortunio Liceti’s 1634 De Monstrorum Caussis (Fig. 3), is captioned with the twins’ names and place of birth, despite having been created thirty-years prior to their birth. As with many “freakish” bodies, the accuracy of their experience exists separately from its visual history.[2]

Although these contradictions of dates and attributions make reproducing a clean narrative difficult, they reflect a larger theme of teratology: that bodies are detached from persons, and imaginative ideals misaligned from lived experience. The image by de’ Cavalieri was likely a representation of an earlier set of conjoined twins in the 16th century, perhaps based on conjoined twins mentioned by Ambrose Paré in 1530. This image is subsequently reproduced in Liceti’s 1665 edition of his work, now titled De Monstris. Hence, the twins’ image has been collapsed into a narrative that took place well before their birth, and which frames them as simultaneously alive and dead.

 

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Fig. 3. Liceti, F. (1634). [Rueffo puer Amiterni natus uno brachio, fed pedibus tribus in hanc effigiem] (p. 117). De monstrorum caussis, natura, et differentiis libri duo … Padua, Italy: Apud Paulum Frambottum.

Worries and uncertainties over death and the body make themselves known in images and stories documenting the “freakish” body. Art that has been traditionally deemed “grotesque,” “macabre,” or more colloquially, simply “disturbing” is part of a symbolic system that expresses metaphysical anxieties about what lurks beneath the surface of the body. I am not attempting to medicalize nor romanticize the history of those who are or have been designated as disabled, deformed, monstrous, and freakish. Rather, my aim is to provide a critical and historical study of how non-normative bodies have been catalogued as a memento mori for its witnesses and used by able-bodied viewers as tools of self-reflection and meditation, a practice that actively erases personhood in favour of objectification.[3]

References

[1] Bondeson, Jan. The Two-headed Boy: And Other Medical Marvels. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2000.

[2] Jillings, Karen. “Monstrosity as Spectacle: The Two Inseparable Brothers’ European Tour of the 1630s and 1640s.” Popular Entertainment Studies 2, no. 1 (2011): 54–68.

[3] My work is particularly indebted to the disability, feminist, and race scholarship of Tobin Siebers (Disability Aesthetics), Rana Hogarth (Medicalizing Blackness: Making Racial Difference in the Atlantic World, 1780-1840), and Elizabeth Grosz (Volatile Bodies).

Further Reading

Bates, A. W., Emblematic Monsters: Unnatural Conceptions and Deformed Births in Early Modern Europe. Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2009.

Benedict, Barbara M. Curiosity: A Cultural History of Early Modern Inquiry. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 2002.

Daston, Lorraine, and Katharine Park. Wonders and the Order of Nature, 1150-1750. New York: Zone Books, 2012.

Thomson, Rosemarie Garland. Freakery: Cultural Spectacles of the Extraordinary Body. New York: New York University Press, 2008.

Remembering the Syphilis Study in Tuskegee

This guest post is by Dr. Susan Reverby, the Marion Butler McLean Professor Emerita in the History of Ideas and Professor Emerita of Women’s and Gender Studies at Wellesley College. This year she is a fellow at the Project on Race and Gender in Science and Medicine at the Hutchins Institute for African and African American Research at Harvard University. Reverby is most recently the author of the multiple prize winning book, Examining Tuskegee: The Infamous Syphilis Study and its Legacy and the historian whose work on immoral U.S. led research in Guatemala in the late 1940s led to a federal apology in 2010. She is currently completing her latest book, The Revolutionary Life of Brother Doc: A 20th Century White Man’s Tale (University of North Carolina Press, 2020).

Conspiracy theories and myths, medical and otherwise, often reflect ways to cope with racism in its multiple nefarious forms.   Many such tales focus on destruction of the black body: from the fears that Church’s chicken, now Popeye’s, put something in their frying that caused Black men to become sterile to the beliefs in South Africa that the HIV virus was spread by false vaccinations funded by the C.I.A. and British intelligence. Did you hear the one about the U.S. government letting hundreds of black men in and around Tuskegee, Alabama with syphilis not get to treatment that went on for four decades between 1932 and 1972?  Or that the government actually gave the men the syphilis and you can see it in the photographs, especially if you cannot differentiate between a blood draw and an injection?

Photograph of Participant in the Tuskegee Syphilis Study

Centers for Disease Control: Venereal Disease Branch. (ca. 1953). Photograph of Participant in the Tuskegee Syphilis Study. Image from https://catalog.archives.gov/id/824612

Only the fact that the government tried to make sure the men who already had late latent syphilis did not get treatment for forty years is true among these tales, and horrendous enough. Now we have to consider the meaning given to this Study over the nearly fifty years since it became widespread public knowledge.

The exposure of the Study came at the end of the modern Civil Rights era and after the medical community was beginning to acknowledge that even the “good guys” did immoral work. Along with the unethical studies at Willowbrook [1] and the Jewish Chronic Disease Hospital [2], the experiment in Tuskegee led to the federal Belmont Report [3] and the modern era of institutional review boards and regulations surrounding informed consent.

Kenan Thompson Hugh Laurie

King, D. R. (Director).  (2006, October 28). Modern Medicine: Hugh Laurie/Beck [Television series episode].  In L. Michaels (Producer), Saturday Night Live. New York, NY: NBC.

For many in the health care community and general public the words “Tuskegee” became symbolic of racism in medical research and care, making its way into popular culture in songs, plays, poems, rap, and cultural imagination.   In 2006, Hugh Laurie (T.V.’s irascible Dr. House) hosted Saturday Night Live and played the wife in a skit with patient Kenan Thompson. When the doctor offers care to Thompson, Laurie and Thompson both look at one another and yell “We know what this is: Tuskegee, Tuskegee, Tuskegee.” Others have done academic studies that prove and disprove that it is the memory of Tuskegee that keeps African American patients from seeking care or participating in research trials.  What we do know is that the subtle, and not so subtle, forms of racism create an aura of distrust that affects the kind of health care African Americans both seek and receive whether they know the details of what happened half a century ago or not.

So can there be another Tuskegee?  If by this question we mean the misrepresentation in informed consent, the danger of scientific hubris, and the misuse of patients of color:  probably in some form. Just as importantly, we need to ask what meaning is given to these experiences once they become public? How can the health care and public health communities create what historian Vanessa Northington Gamble calls “trustworthiness.”  It is the meaning of the study in Tuskegee that needs to be assessed, taught and considered. For it is this meaning that reverberates long after the men caught in its grasp wandered in the medical desert for 40 years, and long after any knowledge of its facts actually fade.

Join Susan Reverby along with moderator Aletha Maybank and Monique Guishard for our panel on February 26th, Could Tuskegee Happen Today?, addressing the history and legacy of the study and why it remains relevant today.

Footnotes

[1] J.D. Howell, R.A.Haywood, “Writing Willowbrook, Reading Willowbrook: The Recounting of a Medical Experiment. In: J. Goodman, A. McElligott and L. Marks, eds. Using Bodies: Humans in the Service of Medical Science in the 20th Century (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2003), pp. 190-213.

[2] Barron H. Lerner, “Sins of Omission—Cancer Research without Informed Consent,” New England Journal of Medicine 351 (2004): 628-630.

[3] Office of the Secretary, The Belmont Report: Ethical Principles and Guidelines for the Protection of Human Subjects of Research, April 18, 1979.

#ColorOurCollections 2019: Here Comes the Sun

Are you ready? Our fourth annual #ColorOurCollections week kicks off today! From February 4th through the 8th, libraries, archives, and other cultural institutions are showcasing their collections in the form of free coloring sheets. Follow #ColorOurCollections on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, and other social media platforms to participate. If you’re a cultural institution, share your own coloring sheets to our website, colorourcollections.org.  And if you’re looking for pages to color you can join in too, by following the social media hashtag. Be sure to visit the #ColorOurCollections website for free, downloadable coloring books created for the campaign.

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Last year our coloring pages took their cues from the ocean, but this year’s especially cold January had us running to our botanicals.  Here, we found a respite from the cold in the pages of Willem Piso’s natural history of Brazil, the vibrant cacti of Johannes Burman’s eighteenth-century volumes on American plants, and the always evergreen pines of the early and important herbal, the Hortus Sanitatis, or Garden of Health.

The earliest illustrations in this year’s coloring book come from a French edition of the Hortus Sanitatus, first published in Mainz in 1485. The woodblocks used to make the book’s many illustrations of plants and animals were reused many times to depict different species. In some cases, fantasy takes over entirely, as with a pair of images depicting male and female mandrakes.

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Source: Verard, Antoine. Des herbis & tabulae… (1500).

Athanasius Kircher was also no stranger to fantasy, and his levitating lily pad, from his illustrated guide to China published in 1667, is no exception. Kircher, a Jesuit, never travelled to China, but relied on accounts by his fellow Jesuits for source material for his book. Kircher promised that his travelogue would distinguish between the real and the unreal, but offered illustrations of a number of incredible sights, including winged tortoises and this flower with a face, who graces this year’s coloring book cover:

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Source: Kircher, Athanasius. Athanasii Kircheri e Soc. Jesu China…(1667).

Other images this year were taken from the herbal of the Dutch botanist, Johannes Burman, published between 1755–1757. Burman studied under Herman Boerhaave at Leiden, and qualified in 1728 as a doctor of medicine. He later replaced Frederick Ruysch as Professor of Botany in Amsterdam, and was responsible for the botanical garden there. Many of the illustrations in Burman’s Plantarum Americanarum were drawn by the French botanist and artist Charles Plumier (1646–1704). The flowering plant plumeria was named in his honor.

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Source: Burmann, Johannes. Plantarum Americanarum. (1755–1757).

Finally, two additional coloring images come from Willem Piso and Georg Markgraf’s astonishing Historia naturalis Brasiliae, published in 1648. The book contains 446 remarkable woodcuts illustrating local flora and fauna, and comprises the most important seventeenth-century catalog of zoology, botany and medicine in Brazil. The woodcuts are based on an original collection of paintings and sketches, now lost; many of these original depictions were likely done by Markgraf himself. Selected pages from the book are digitized here.

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Piso, Willem & Laet, Joannes de. Historia naturalis Brasiliae. (1648).

We can’t wait to see what you’re coloring from our collections—and from others!  Don’t forget to share your work and use the hashtag #ColorOurCollections on social media.

 

Winter/Spring 2019 Upcoming Events

Happy New Year! After finishing off a wonderful array of programming for 2018, we’re looking forward to the events we have in store for 2019, and hope you are too!

Our winter/spring programming begins on January 26 with our Bibliography Week lecture, “‘The Horrors of My Secret Toil’: What Frankenstein Demands of Curators”, with speaker, Elizabeth Denlinger. She will consider Mary Shelley’s fictional experiment with dead bodies and their place in the scientific world of Shelley’s time, as well as exploring the ethical implications of making a spectacle of human bodies — in the novel, in movies, and in exhibitions.

Please join the Academy on January 30 for the “Tenth Annual History of Medicine and Public Health Night, Part I“. This special evening of selected short talks will address varied topics in the history of medicine and public health from milk pasteurization to the eradication of rinderpest in East Africa.

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February 4-8 is Color Our Collections Week! Begun by the Academy Library in 2016, Color Our Collections Week brings you free coloring sheets based on materials in our Library as well as other cultural institutions from around the world. Users are invited to download and print the coloring sheets via the website www.colorourcollections.org and share their filled-in images with hashtag #ColorOurCollections.

Who is remembered, commemorated, and forgotten? Join us on February 6 for “Remembering the Dead“, a Germ City event where activist and artist Avram Finkelstein and essayist Garnette Cadogan consider the complicated social and institutional responses to infectious disease with the Tenement Museum’s David Favaloro.

The “Tuskegee Study of Untreated Syphilis” was an unethical medical research study conducted by the U.S. Public Health Service on hundreds of African-American men from 1932-1972. “Could Tuskegee Happen Today?”, the inaugural event in the Academy’s Race & Health series, to be held on February 26, will share first-person accounts from survivors, combined with expert perspectives and audience discussion, to address the history and legacy of the study and why it remains relevant today. 

On April 3, we will be presenting “Facing the Future: Predicting and Preparing for Disease Outbreaks“. At this Germ City event, science reporter Sonia Shah will speak with experts Dr. Amy Fairchild, Dr. Larry Madoff, and Lauren Flicker about how prepared we are for future pandemics.

Save the date for April 11, our annual Celebration of the Library: “How the Voice Made Us Human”! This year’s speaker is award-winning journalist and author of As Nature Made Him John Colapinto, who will discuss his current book project on the history of the voice.

Lastly, be on the lookout: newly-added dates for our incredibly popular walking tours on Roosevelt Island and Ellis Island are coming soon!

Check back here for special guest posts by some of our speakers in the coming months, and we hope to see you soon!

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