Schamberg's Well-Known Kissing Party: Mistletoe, syphilis, and other holiday hazards

During the 1920s and 1930s, 4th Year students of Woman's Medical College (WMC) were required to write a thesis for their Hygiene and Preventative Medicine class. I've been looking at some patterns running through these theses and found that between 1928 and 1932, six WMC students wrote papers focusing on the different aspects of syphilis.

A line in one of these syphilis theses caught my eye and intrigued me. Student Adele Cohn's 1931 paper makes a reference to "Schamberg's well-known kissing party."

"Schamberg's well-known kissing party" is a phrase chosen by Adele Cohn as a reference to Jay F. Schamberg's 1911 article "An Epidemic of Chancre of the Lip from Kissing" (Journal of the American Medical Association, Vol. 57 p. 783, September 2, 1911). Jay F. Schamberg, M.D., was Professor of Diseases of the Skin at the Philadelphia Polyclinic and College for Graduates in Medicine.

A good summary of Schamberg's "kissing party" article is found in a 1930 article on syphilis by Marion Craig Potter:

"The most common of all extragenital lesions are on the lips, from the use of common cups, the interchange of cigarettes, and kissing. Schamberg reports an epidemic of chancres from kissing following a Christmas mistletoe party. 'The source was a young man who had a chancre of the lip. Six young women kissed by him developed chancres on the lip. Another young man developed a chancre on the lip, apparently, from the virus deposited on the lip of one of the young women. In addition, a young woman who was kissed by the offender at a third social affair was inoculated, making, in all, eight labial chancres from one source; and later Schamberg was consulted by another girl who had acquired a chancre of the cheek from a kiss from one of the aforementioned young women.' Many babies in the cradle are infected in this manner. Kissing is dangerous!"
(from "Venereal Diseases: Part I: Syphilis" by Marion Craig Potter, The American Journal of Nursing, Vol. 30, No. 2, Feb 1930, pp. 155-160 (http://www.jstor.org/stable/3409971)

While Marion Craig Potter concludes that "kissing is dangerous" and Adele Cohn chooses the wonderful phrase "Schamberg's well-known kissing party," they are not alone in their appreciation for the case study. Another source mentions that "The kissing party reported by Schamberg has become classic" (see Preventive Medicine and Hygiene, 4th ed., edited by Milton J. Rosenau, 1921 p. 61).

The particulars of kissing under the mistletoe are described in detail in Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase & Fable: "The correct procedure, now rarely observed, is that as the young man kisses a girl under the mistletoe he should pluck a berry, and that when the last berry is gone there should be no more kissing." I haven't yet found any discussions of this berry-limiting, portion-controlled approach to minimizing disease transmission, but it may be an area ready for research.

I did find further discussion of mistletoe-related infections in a 1952 feature called "Any Questions?" in the The British Medical Journal (BMJ, Vol. 2, No. 4799, Dec. 27, 1952, pp. 1431-1432, http://www.jstor.org/stable/25394763). After a discussion of technique, comparing the "dutiful or chaste kiss" to the "full-blooded passionate kiss," the author moves on to the topic of infection transmission.

In regard to spreading syphilis through kissing, "certain very delicate micro-organisms ... can certainly be transmitted directly, notably those of Vincent's infection [aka "trench mouth"] and syphilis." The author does put things in perspective, saying that many mouth-bourne bacteria have no problem living outside the mouth, therefore "it is of course worse to be sneezed or coughed at, and the probability is ... that a kiss would be preferable to either of these experiences."

It goes on to warn, "Don't assume you know where your family members' lips have been" (my paraphrasing). The author then follows through on this familial warning with a tongue-in-cheek, washing-my-hands-of-the-situation comment: "This discordant and unpleasant note is introduced only for the sake of scientific completeness." Right.

But there's more to holiday parties than extragenital disease transmission. Seasonal social gatherings are beset with unforeseen physiological mechanisms and their repurcusions. This section in BMJ includes a Q&A for other holiday hazards, including:

• Does mulled claret and punch make you drunk faster if it is served hot or cold?
• What are the botulism risks of imported canned meat?
• Should a bowel purgative be used after a heavy Christmas dinner?
• What are the poisoning risks for holly and mistletoe berries?
• Will one's drunkenness feel worse after a person ventures out into the cold?
• How does one sterilize his or her bagpipes?
• What are the risks of handling radioactive isotopes?

I don't know about that last question, but evidence suggests that the holidays are a bloody minefield.

I have a yearly ritual -- as soon as Thanksgiving is over, I start listening to Christmas music. Since starting this research, all I now hear are clandestine death threats. Whether it's Burl Ives trying to poison me with his "Holly Jolly Christmas" or Andy Williams wishing me lip sores and an unspecified cardiac condition: "There'll be much mistletoe-ing / And hearts will be glowing." Maybe Andy is trying to warn us, I can't tell. And a montage from some sort of Martin Scorsese film reels through my head when I hear Frank Sinatra insinuate: "Oh, by gosh, by golly. It's time for mistletoe and holly. Fancy ties an' granny's pies, an' folks stealin' a kiss or two. As they whisper, Merry Christmas to you." I'm starting to think that Grandma had it lucky when she got run over by that reindeer. At least she went quickly.

So, from the safety of my basement archives bunker, I wish everyone a Happy Holiday Season. I'm still deciding whether to light a candle or curse the darkness, but either way I hope to see you in the New Year.

Could Catharine Macfarlane's work have lengthened Ada Lovelace's life?

One more post in honor of Ada Lovelace Day, who connects to many women in many different ways. I’m connecting Ada with Dr. Catherine Macfarlane. Had Ada been born a bit later, or Catherine Macfarlane earlier, Ada’s life may have lasted longer than her short 36 years.

Ada Lovelace died fairly young of cancer, in 1852. Some sources say uterine cancer specifically and some say she was bled to death in treating her illness.

The same year of Ada’s death, when women had few options for medical training, the Female Medical College of Pennsylvania (later Woman’s Med) graduated its first class of eight women physicians. Its 46th class of women physicians graduated in 1898 and included Catherine Macfarlane.

Class of 1898, Woman's Medical College of Pennsylvania (unfortunately Macfarlane is missing from the photograph).

Macfarlane practiced and taught obstetrics and gynecology in Philadelphia and in time turned to research. Her work led to a theory that regular examination of women in apparent good health would be the best method to detect cancer in its early stages when it was most treatable. Initially, her theories were not popular and she had little support for her research.

In 1938 she co-founded the Cancer Control Research Project at Woman’s Med where women patients came in for regular pelvic examinations. The clinic was planned to run for five years but ultimately covered a fifteen-year period, providing data from over one thousand women. The project’s 1953 findings supported Macfarlane’s theory and indicated that regular exams could help detect cancer of the uterus early on. Macfarlane then helped establish the first uterine cancer screening in Philadelphia, one of the earliest programs in the country.

Drs. Catharine Macfarlane and Margaret Sturgis in the Cancer Prevention Clinic, 1953.

Had Catherine Macfarlane been born earlier, would her work have changed the outcome of Ada Lovelace’s illness? In Lovelace’s era, women had almost no support for studying medicine; even in Macfarlane’s time, she was discouraged in pursuing her research. However, perhaps Lovelace’s passion and interest fanned the development of schools educating women, attitudes about women’s health, and ultimately, Macfarlane’s groundbreaking work in early cancer detection.

Catharine Macfarlane and Frank Hartman in front of cancer poster.

Ada Lovelace Day: A Visit from Marie Curie

In honor of Ada Lovelace Day, we look back at May 23, 1921, when the Woman's Medical College of Pennsylvania hosted a distinguished visitor – Marie Curie.

Dean Martha Tracy (herself a WMC alumna, class of 1904) spoke at the occasion:

"…it is singularly appropriate that the Woman’s Medical College of Pennsylvania, firm in its hard-won position in the first rank of American medical schools, should greet with profound sympathy and due reverence this woman citizen of a fellow-republic who has likewise won through years of self-sacrificing devotion to research her deserved position as the foremost of living scientists."

Curie was granted an honorary degree – but she herself was absent on that day due to illness (only the year before, she had begun to experience symptoms caused by exposure to radioactivity). In her place, her daughter Irène Curie accepted the honor; Mme. Curie recovered the next day, and a student took a photograph of her with Dr. Tracy to document her visit to the College.

Of course, the visit was not simply a social call – Mme. Curie was on a fundraising tour. Through a campaign organized by Marie 'Missy' Mattingly Meloney, editor of The Delineator, a popular women's magazine, more than $100,000 was 'raised by women' and Mme. Curie was presented with a gram of radium by President Harding 'on behalf of the women of America.'

The Medical Woman's Journal also documented the endeavor it described the lack of radium in post-war France and Mme. Curie's financial position:

"Madame Curie is a teacher of science and she has a teacher's salary. She is one of the richest women in the world in scientific lore, but she has given the fruits of her labor to her laboratory. So she could not afford to travel westward."

In a later issue, Madame Curie's trip and the overall fundraising effort were described in an editorial as 'Women's Gift to a Woman for the Benefit of Mankind' - it went on to note that:

"Every progressive step taken by women has been secured by fighting against custom and prejudice; it has been a continual revolt against the established order. That is the reason women make such good revolutionists."

For thousands of other blog posts on women in science and technology, check out Finding Ada - and for more on the Woman's Medical College of Pennsylvania, follow us on Twitter. Thanks for visiting!

From the Collections: Constant Diversity?

The Woman's Medical College of Pennsylvania had a long tradition of diversity; in addition to opening the doors to a formal medical education to American women of many backgrounds, including a former slave like Dr. Eliza Grier, it also helped to educate women from around the world - and that's back when it was such an usual move that international students made headlines, just for coming. In 1885, there were three such 'exotic' women attending WMC at the same time - Dr. Anandibai Joshee, class of 1886, who was the first Indian woman to earn an MD; Japan's Dr. Kei Okami, class of 1889, and Dr. Sabat Islambooly (yes, it's a typo on the caption - and a very old one), class of 1890, from Syria - so naturally, a photograph was taken to honor the occasion:


By 1904, the College could boast alumnae hailing from '...Canada...Jamaica, Brazil, England, Sweden, Denmark, Switzerland, Russia, Syria, India, China, Japan, Burmah, Australia, and the Congo Free State. Its living alumnae number about a thousand, and are found in nearly every part of the American republic and in many foreign countries, among them Egypt, India, China, Japan, Persia and Korea.'


Indeed, in the early twentieth century, the press loved nothing more than featuring women medical students from around the world in their native costumes - this example is from 1928 (although perhaps what is more interesting is that as late as 1928, a newspaper with a general readership could make a pop culture allusion to Gilbert & Sullivan and have it understood):


While a commitment to diversity waxed and waned throughout the years, it is interesting to note that it was strong in a very public way, at a time when it was not necessarily a popular stance. At the height of the Second World War, WMC admitted students from Japanese internment camps, although it is clear from a few not-so-subtle hints in the Faculty Minutes that not everyone was happy about their presence - one of them was nearly forced out on several occasions, and made to repeat work - all while being closely monitored.

But even within the wartime Japanese-American community at WMC (admittedly, a very small one), there was no single path that defined their experiences. Dr. Toshiko Toyota began her studies with the class of 1943, but the resulting chaos surrounding some Japanese-American students (and not a little suspicion from someone in the faculty - it seems from existing records that her time as a student was made as difficult at possible) delayed her schoolwork and pushed her into the class of 1944.

By contrast, Dr. Emma Hatayama, class of 1945, started at WMC in 1941; she had been advised as an undergrad to apply to east coast medical schools because of the increasing suspicion with which Japanese-Americans were viewed in the west, even prior to 1941 - but according to her oral history, she managed to avoid many of the tribulations other Japanese-American students suffered, largely by being in the right place at the right time - as she started her medical education on the east coast prior to the US entering the war, she was not subject to the restrictions placed on others.

Dr. Mary Sakaguchi Oda, class of 1946, was the sole Japanese-American student in her class; she was in medical school at UC Berkeley when war broke out; a California native, she was sent with her family to Manazar War Relocation Center in 1942, where Ansel Adams them (and where they suffered a number of family tragedies in 1944). After graduation, she returned to California to practice medicine.

Dr. Ruby Inouye, from Seattle, had been a pre-med student at the University of Washington in 1941; after the attack on Pearl Harbor, she found herself in the Minidoka War Relocation Center in Idaho with her family. In 1943, she was able to transfer to the University of Texas to complete her undergraduate education - while her family stayed behind in the camp. Organizations such as the National Japanese American Student Relocation Council worked to find places for Japanese-American college students at universities outside the 'restricted area' - and families who would house and 'monitor' them as required by the terms of their release from the camps. She arrived at WMC in 1944.

But Dr. Inouye was not the only Japanese-American student accepted in 1944 - Dr. Kazuko Ono (later Bill, whose family was in an internment camp in their home state of California, and whose education had been similarly interrupted) started at the College the same year. They are pictured together here in a College event from 1947:


In a class of fewer than 35 students, two who required considerable 'extra' administrative work certainly stood out - and it is interesting that there is no record of any Japanese-American student coming across discrimination from the faculty after Dr. Toyota's experience.

It's not clear whether she was simply the victim of bad timing or a particular individual with a grudge - but she and her fellow Japanese-American students went on to successful careers after graduation, although some continued to face discrimination in the years immediately following the war; but whether that was down to racism or sexism (or both) is another question entirely.

From the Collections: Harriet

She became famous at the 1893 World's Columbian Exposition, generations of medical students consider her part of their alma mater(s) and she's even been considered an off-the-beaten-track tourist attraction - but who was 'Harriet?'

Hahnemann Medical College in the 1880s was still very much a homeopathic institution - but that did not mean its professors overlooked basics such as anatomy. Enter Dr. Rufus B. Weaver, Professor of Anatomy. Weaver was an 1865 graduate of Penn Medical College, a institution that lasted from 1853-1880, and also known as the Penn Medical University - incidentally, it was co-ed from the start, as were a few other eclectic medical schools of the era. It was a purely homeopathic school which shared a founder with Woman's Medical College of Pennsylvania (although a few early graduates later became homeopaths, teaching at Woman's Med was always allopathic) in Dr. Joseph Longshore.

Weaver joined the Hahnemann faculty in 1869, first as a 'demonstrator' of Anatomy ('demonstrator' was a common job title for medical school faculty members in the nineteenth century), and later as a full professor. At some point during his career there in the 1880s, he crossed paths with Harriet Cole, an African-American cleaner at the College (you can find her described in more colorful fashion, as it were, by Time Magazine in the 1930s). When she died of tuberculosis in 1888, she willed her body to the College (although it's equally possible that there was some opportunism at work on Weaver's part). He set about dissecting her nervous system, a process that took him over five months of full-time work, and mounted it for display. While the intent was to employ Harriet (or, more accurately, what was left of her) as a teaching aid, the results were considered so tremendous that she was later submitted for display at the Columbian Exposition in Chicago, winning a number of prizes.

Harriet returned to Hahnemann as first 'worked' as a teaching tool, and later as a museum piece; restored by Hahnemann-trained cardiologist Dr. George Geckeler in the 1960s, she became part of the fabric of the institution and greeted medical students at Hahnemann's Center City Philadelphia campus - even through mergers and related administrative upheavals.

Harriet remained in Center City until a recent renovation to the Hahnemann Library - she moved to Drexel University College of Medicine's Queen Lane campus in 2008. While she is no longer part of the curriculum, Harriet still oversees current medical students; she is posted just outside the bookstore in the Student Activities Center.

While some who see Harriet in passing do not realize she was part of a real person, Weaver's groundbreaking work with 'Harriet' continues to be referenced in medical journals - even as recently as 2005. While we know very little about Harriet Cole's life, hopefully this sheds a little light on someone who made Weaver's scientific efforts a success - and who deserves more than a brief footnote in his biography.

From the Collections: Women Physicians at War

We have previously taken a brief look at female doctors who served during the Civil War; today, with Veterans' Day upon us, we will examine a number of women physicians who served in twentieth-century wars.

In 1917, Dr. Bertha Van Hoosen (at that time the president of the Medical Women's National Association) established a War Service Committee; it evolved into the American Women's Hospitals (PDF finding aid). The name was chosen to reflect the good works of the Scottish Women's Hospitals, which sent teams of female doctors and nurses throughout war-ravaged Europe. Although their direct military service had been rejected by the US government, AWH doctors designed their own uniforms and sailed to Europe in 1918, establishing their first hospital in France.


Under the leadership of Dr. Esther Pohl Lovejoy, AWH established hospitals and clinics in various parts of France, Serbia and the Middle East. In 1922, AHW staff witnessed the burning of İzmir (or Smyrna, as it appears from time to time in the correspondence in the collection) and physicians including Dr. Mabel Elliott became heavily involved in treating refugees and orphans throughout Turkey, Armenia and Greece under obviously trying conditions. While most AWH doctors and nurses were never officially members of the military (a few were accepted as contract surgeons, but were not commissioned officers), their service during wartime was certainly comparable - and it laid the groundwork for the next generation.


A bill to allow female physicians full appointments in the Army and Navy Medical Corps was brought before Congress in 1943; while it makes fascinating reading in general, the testimony from Dr. Emily Dunning Barringer apparently had quite an effect on the committee, and what became known as the Sparkman Act was duly passed.


Immediately thereafter, the first woman doctor was commissioned in the Army Medical Corps; Dr. Margaret D. Craighill, dean of Women's Medical College from 1940-1946, was given leave to take up her post. After her appointment, she encouraged newly-minted women doctors to consider a military career. (A small aside - this clipping and photo detailing Dr. Craighill's 1944 WMC commencement address advice is particularly interesting, given that many Japanese-Americans were still in internment camps - and Dr. Toshiko Toyota, a native of Utah, overcame considerable adversity in her medical school career, according to notes in the Faculty Minutes - there were several attempts to have her expelled).



Dr. Craighill, in her capacity as Major Craighill, went on to survey conditions for the Women's Army Corps and recommended that air conditioning be provided as a matter of course for those stationed in hot climates; noting its success in Tehran, she said, "I do hope some of these lessons learned in the Persian Gulf will be carried out in the Pacific" (New York Times, 6/24/45).


Dr. Bernice R. Walters (WMC 1936) was the first woman doctor assigned to shipboard duty in the US Navy. She served aboard the USS Consolation, which was chiefly stationed off the Korean coast, beginning in 1950, but had actually joined the Naval Reserve in 1943. Of her initial induction, she noted, "They didn't even know how to process me...I almost wound up as an apprentice seaman" (Atlanta Journal-Constitution, 11/23/52).


Our collections in this area are some of our most heavily-used by researchers, and yet the role of women doctors in the military and at war seems little-known to the general public; we hope future research and a few upcoming publications will help to correct that deficit.

From the Collections: Women's Suffrage

Today marks the 89th anniversary of the 19th Amendment going into effect (which, oddly, doesn't get an artistic rendering from Google). In a few short weeks, as part of the Institute for Women's Health and Leadership, we'll be kicking off Vision 2020 at the National Constitution Center and we will also be involved in quite a few events to celebrate the 90th anniversary of women's suffrage next year as well as working toward the centennial in 2020. In light of that, here are a few items from the collection related to winning the right to vote.

Although it was at the forefront of women's medical education in the 19th and early 20th centuries, it may come as a surprise to some to learn that not all Woman's Medical College of Pennsylvania students and faculty were in favor of the suffrage movement. This editorial in the student magazine from 1912, was very much opposed to the notion, even though the author (an anonymous female medical student) agreed, in principle, that women should have the right to vote - it just wouldn't be a good thing for the nation as a whole.


However, that was most definitely not the majority view; another anonymous student satirized the anti-suffrage viewpoint held by some men under the none-too-subtle pen name 'J. Ilted' in this poem from the very next issue of the magazine.

Throughout this period, there are notices of pro-suffrage meetings being held in the Philadelphia area (such as this one), and some WMC faculty members were by no means quiet about the issue.

Dr. Ellen C. Potter (WMC 1903) issued a call to arms in 1912, lamenting the fact that contemporary young women medical students were apathetic compared to the previous generation's struggling pioneers. Dr. Potter was a very popular professor and later a pioneer in public health and preventive medicine, which was a cause taken up by not a few suffragist physicians.

One of those was Dr. Anna Howard Shaw, who was a regular visitor to WMC, serving as commencement speaker when her schedule permitted (she was the leader of the National American Woman Suffrage Association for a number of years); her death, only a few months after the passing of the 19th Amendment, inspired the creation of the Anna Howard Shaw Memorial Deptartment of Preventive Medicine - although it was no easy task. The department was not officially created until 1930, even though a campaign was begun in 1920 to raise funds.

Despite earlier anti-suffrage positions from some students, there is no indication that anyone chose not to take advantage of the college holiday afforded by the 1920 election; the account in the Bulletin recorded that, '...the casting of our first ballots assumed the solemnity of a religious ceremony.' Students took the opportunity to do some of the above-mentioned fundraising, '...collecting the National American Woman Suffrage Association's 'thank-offering' for the Anna Howard Shaw Memorial.'

It may have been a working holiday, but it was a most welcome one.

From the Collections: Drugs

As any archivist will attest, one not infrequently comes across something interesting while looking for another item entirely and it's necessary to make a note to go back to interesting item number one (although following up on these Notes To Self is a rarer occurrence, at least in my experience). Luckily, I had the chance again recently to pull out the same journals and boxes in which I'd found these magnificent drug ads for your viewing pleasure. They are in chronological order (for your convenience, naturally).

The first ad was placed in The Medical Woman's Journal in 1924; back then, it seems one drug could do it all and still be 'agreeable to the taste' - this particular offering had been on the market for decades at this point:

The next ad, also from The Medical Woman's Journal but placed ten years later, shows that even in 1934, advertised drugs were still rather one-size-fits-all:

You may rest assured that it 'can be prescribed at any season of year.' Whew!

Ten years on, Girl Power was the order of the day - this ad is also from the The Medical Woman's Journal, from May, 1944 and the influence of women's war work is clear:

Ergoapiol had been popular since at least the turn of the century for a number of uses; it would seem the prescribing physician is invited to read between the lines in certain situations.

Sticking with 1944 and the same publication, we start to get slightly more straightforward ads about family planning - although clearly there's a need to market contraception as a last resort. In this instance, kidney trouble provides the key:

Interestingly, other similar ads from the same year start to drop the 'protecting health' angle and go straight in for a more modern one - although they are still fairly discreet.

The next series of ads are from a 1958 issue of the Journal of the American Medical Women's Association - it's quite clear we're almost in the modern era.

The first ad has dispensed with any excuses for its product and simply sticks to a clinical theme:

The one consistent thread through these late-'50s ads is that they are still marketing to doctors - not directly to patients. One presumes the array of psychotic characters presented in this ad would have been familiar to its audience:

I'm not entirely sure what's wrong with the older woman near the top of the 'D' - is it the fact that she's so cheerful despite having Angry Old Man to her left and Proto-Goth-Girl just below her? One can only assume she's dealing with the 'minor emotional disturbances' Dartal handles, while everyone else falls into the 'major' category.

And in case you require a weight-loss method, fear not - your goal can be accomplished through diet, exercise and a fun mixture of methamphetamine and pentobarbital. Wait, what?

Well, it does also have vitamin c. Who wants to stick to plain old diet and exercise, anyway?

Finally, Bonadoxin not only stops morning sickness but compels the expectant patient to garden furiously:

If someone wanted to compare the way drugs were (are?) marketed to female doctors and their male counterparts, I imagine there's a PhD in there somewhere...

From the Collections: Civil War Doctors

We recently had a research request regarding women physicians and their role in the Civil War. At least two Woman's Medical College of Pennsylvania graduates and one student provided medical care on the battlefields. While not a WMC graduate, we also have a large collection related to Dr. Mary Edwards Walker, who was perhaps the most famous American woman doctor of the Civil War era - although she was not necessarily best known for her medical skills.

The first doctor for whom we have records, Dr. Orianna Moon-Andrews, graduated with her MD in 1857; at that time, the school was still known as the Female Medical College of Pennsylvania. She had married fellow Southerner Dr. John Summerfield Andrews in 1861 and began to serve as his nurse (at least so far as the records show, although other research suggests she did considerably more than some of the medical men of the time cared to admit).

The second of 'our' doctors, Dr. Chloe Annette Buckel, graduated in 1856. She left a role as a physician at the New York Infirmary to volunteer her services and was chosen to select and train nurses for the Union army - apparently the North was equal to the South in not wanting to employ qualified women as physicians. She later relocated to California as a practicing doctor, where she wrote scientific articles and was an advocate for children.

Although not a graduate, Anne Smith was a student at WMC after the Civil War; however, it was her war work that brought this particularly interesting item of ephemera to our archives. The pictured permission pass allowed her to pass between the Northern and Southern armies - it seems likely she was working as a nurse at Gettysburg and possibly other major battlefields. Unfortunately that's about all we know about Smith - we'd certainly be grateful to get more information.


Last but certainly not least was Dr. Mary Edwards Walker; we have approximately 30 linear feet related to Walker including much of her correspondence and an unpublished manuscript about her life (as well as many photographs). Walker was eventually given the Medal of Honor (although it was later revoked and restored), but for most of her working life she was the subject of great controversy. Although many of her male 'colleagues' wanted rid of her, she was eventually given a commission as a surgeon. She was also captured by the Confederate army as a spy and held for a number of months. After the war, she became notorious for dressing in men's clothes (even the dress reform movement wasn't sure what to do with her) and was even arrested on occasion as a result. Syracuse University holds her papers - I'm betting they have the other halves of some of the letters in our collection.


Anyone want to write a grant?

From the Collections: A Nymphomania Cure?

We came across this item last week in the papers of Woman's Medical College dean Rachel Bodley (1831-1888). It is from a woman best know to history as 'The Patient' of neurologist Dr. Charles K. Mills (whose own collection is housed nearby at the Historical Society of Pennsylvania). He had published her story as "A Case of Nymphomania with Hysterio-Epilepsy and Peculiar Mental Perversions — the Results of Clitirodectomy and Oophorectomy — The Patient's History as Told by Herself" in the Philadelphia Medical Times in 1885.

It would seem that by February of 1886, The Patient had her own theory as to why her various 'treatments' had failed, and wished to have it confirmed:

"…so that proof may be had that the cure of nymphomania by oophrectomy is effected by separating some telegraphic connection leading from the sexual organs to the brain."

She hoped for this 'proof' to be discovered after her death, and so wrote to Bodley to will her body to science (specifically to the Woman's Hospital of Philadelphia). She apparently carried on a brief correspondence with Bodley (the file contained two letters, in addition to the 'will' reproduced here with identifying information redacted – just in case).

What is not clear is what happened after this correspondence; did she write the letters suspecting that she was dying, or did she live on for many years beyond that? She does give directions on how the situation is to be handled if she outlives the physicians she has selected to handle her case (in addition to Dr. Mills, she mentions Dr. Anna Broomall and Dr. Hannah T. Croasdale, both WMC professors).

It's possible the answers lie elsewhere in the collection or perhaps in Nymphomania: A History by Carol Groneman (in which she recounts the case in some detail – it would be nice if we had it in the library here!). In any case, what started off as mild amusement at a glance at the will led to a deeper curiosity about what happened to the unfortunate Patient – did she remain a resident of the Women's Nervous Wards at Philadelphia Hospital? Did she die shortly after writing the letters? Or was she eventually released and lost to history?

We'd love to know - in the meantime, here is a link to a PDF of the complete will.

From the Collections: The Sporting Life

It seems appropriate at this time of year to consider the role sports played in the lives of Woman's Medical College students, particularly in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. While a number of options were available over time, the one that seemed most popular throughout the years was basketball.

1913-1914 WMC basketball team, l to r: Helen Houser, 1915; Anna Taylor, 1915; Regina Downie, 1914; Lora Dyer, 1914; Myrtle Jane Hinkhouse, 1914

Indeed, although a gymnasium was established in the 1880s and fencing made its mark as the first official athletic club in 1898, nothing seemed to hold the attention of the student body quite as emphatically as basketball.

Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, April 7, 1888

L to R: Florence Richards & Ella Grim, class of 1899

The sport is mentioned frequently in student publications, especially in the 19-teens. There are complaints:

"There's a really fine gymnasium going almost to waste in connection with our college."

"We ought to have a good sized class for an hour, two days a week. A half hour of light exercise, Sweedish [sic] drill perhaps, and then a half hour of basketball."

- The Esculapian, Vol. II, No. 5, p. 8 (April 1913)

There are more subtle suggestions:

Basket Ball.
"At the College there is a good gymnasium, fine dressing rooms, and shower baths. If you are not able to play, show your College spirit by attending the games and encouraging those who do."

- Student Handbook, 1909

There are explanations of just what's so great about basketball, anyway:

"The basket-ball teams will be organized in the near future. It is earnestly desired by those who played last year that every girl who possibly can, will seek this form of recreation. It is an opportunity not only for good, healthy exercise and mental relaxation, but one for meeting members of the different classes in a social way."

- The Esculapian, Vol. II, No. 1, p.8 (October 1910)

And there was even a little bragging; not only had the 1912-1913 WMC team defeated the YWCA team 47-11, they'd even made enough money on admissions to buy a new basketball.

Poor tennis was left in the dust!

From the Collections: Potts, Kettle, Quack?

Prompted by a reference request, I've been looking around to see what other institutions (and, of course, Google Books) might have regarding Dr. Anna Longshore-Potts – a member of the first graduating class (1852) of the Female Medical College of Pennsylvania which would later become the Woman's Medical College of Pennsylvania (and yes, it's 'Woman's' and not 'Women's'). While we had a few items (most of them of a slightly hagiographical bent), I hoped to find a bit more elsewhere to broaden the possible directions of the request.

At first, the online results were quite similar to our own analog holdings – short biographies mentioning her popular lecture tours, her books and her wide travels. Indeed, she seemed to be something along the lines of a medical Oprah – she was even quoted in a A Text-book of the Science and Art of Bread-making, presumably to help boost its sales.

However, once I got into the scholarly journals of the day a very different picture emerged from the male medical establishment – the vast majority of those opinion-makers wanted nothing to do with 'Mrs. Dr. Longshore Potts.' The Journal of the American Medical Association (in 1895) published a note from London whose author did not exactly hold back his (and I think we can very safely say 'his') opinion of Dr. Longshore-Potts and her education:

Journal of the American Medical Association

While it is true that medical education had become much more professionalized from the point at which Dr. Longshore-Potts submitted her thesis ('A Disquisition on Electricity' - one from our collection), by the 1890s the curriculum at WMC was not dissimilar to other highly-regarded medical schools of the time - and was probably quite a bit more stringent than not a few big names. Obviously, that impression was not held by the medical men who edited the Medical Press and Circular in 1899:

...

Medical Press and Circular

It is, perhaps, a bit unfair to point out that the same edition of JAMA featured an article on 'The Incandescent Light, or Radiant Heat Bath' by no less an authority than Dr. J. H. Kellogg of breakfast cereal fame (complete with photos of the light baths in question) which sang the praises of sitting in a light-bulb-lined box to promote 'protoplasmic activity' - or that the Medical Press argued forcefully regarding the dangers of reading in bed - but somehow, it seems worth mentioning.

From the Collections: Correspondenzblatt der Homoeopathischen Aerzte

We’re in the process of expanding our digital collections and one of the upcoming additions is the Correspondenzblatt der Homoeopathischen Aerzte, a small journal published from 1835-1836 by the North American Academy of the Homeopathic Healing Art (which was known as the Allentown Academy, having been located in Allentown, PA).

Homeopathy is a therapeutic system based on the law of similars, “Similia similibus curentur” or, let likes be cured by likes. In 1835 the practice of homeopathy was just getting a foothold in the United States.

The Correspondenzblatt der Homoeopatischen Aerzte (Correspondence Paper of Homeopathic Physicians) is from the Hahnemann Collection and was the first homeopathic journal published in the United States, created by and for homeopathic practitioners who submitted case notes, observations and questions about their patients. Constantine Hering, one of the founders of the Academy and considered to be the “father of American Homeopathy”, served as the journal’s editor.

The issues are short but dense, running 4-8 pages each (with a total of 16 issues in its short life) and are packed with detailed case studies on ailments being treated homeopathically. In aggregate, they illustrate the holistic approach used by homeopaths in treating minor and major illnesses, from toothaches to measles. More than a few of the case studies detail the use of homeopathy to treat animals, including pigs, horses and cows. Some descriptions are graphic and should be avoided by the faint of heart.

The original publication is mostly in German with a few entries in English. We’ve had the entire run translated to English which we’ll post along with the digital facsimiles of the paper. Some translated excerpts:

M.W. a brunette woman nearly 40 years old reported to me on April 11, 1836 the following complaints: tearing in the right arm and in the sinews, worse with motion, pulls down into the hand, with heat in, so that the veins swell. –

Poorly-handled or neglected skin burns cured by ars. Xo in many cases.

The eyes of an old, corpulent daily drinker were severely inflamed, burning with pain – the flow of tears – red blood vessels on the zygoma and nose – allopathic remedies had been applied in vain for a long time – nox. vom. in several doses cured despite the continued enjoyment of holy drinks.

The homeopathic substances are abbreviated throughout. The remedies here refer to Arsenicum Album (ars.) and Nux Vomica (nox. vom.) but the abbreviations aren't always consistent. We're still working out exactly how we'll match abbreviations to fully-termed substances in the digital version.

In his role as editor, Hering encourages the practice and growth of homeopathy and cajoles his readers to contribute and share.

“Everything which the individual discovers must become the common good of all! That is the great noble principle that ensures the new art its position.”

From the Collections: Dr. Rebecca Cole

Not infrequently, we find a certain synchronicity about research requests; often, a collection or individual that might have been under the radar suddenly becomes the subject of several similar avenues of inquiry in a remarkably short span of time. We had a flurry of activity around our American Women's Hospitals collection for much of last year, and in the past few weeks we have experienced something similar regarding Woman's Medical College of Pennsylvania graduate Rebecca Cole.

As mentioned in passing in the entry on Eliza Grier, Cole was the second African-American woman in the United States to receive a medical degree. Unlike Grier, Cole lived a long life and practiced medicine for more than fifty years – yet we have remarkably little first-hand information about her. In our collection, we do have her 1867 thesis: 'The Eye and its Appendages' (cover pictured here) and a mention in passing in some 1906 correspondence between Clara Marshall, WMC dean at the time, and W.E.B. DuBois.

We had been doing a bit of research on Rebecca Cole on our end for a project related to our new building; shortly after beginning to look around here, we started receiving related reference requests (and please keep them coming!) – somehow, everyone's timing has been perfect. As a result, we've been able to cobble together some links to other resources regarding her life.

Prior to attending WMC, Rebecca Cole graduated from the Institute for Colored Youth (now Cheyney University) in 1863. After receiving her medical degree, she moved to New York, where she became a 'sanitary visitor' for the New York Infirmary for Women and Children, working under Elizabeth Blackwell. She later moved on to South Carolina, but returned to Philadelphia where she partnered with Dr. Charlotte Abbey (WMC 1887) to start the Physician Woman's Directory in 1894. The Directory was established (according to Abbey in this publication from 1915) '...for the purpose of preventing the establishment of a foundling hospital in Philadelphia.' The Directory's aim was to educate and support unmarried mothers (mostly of the 'domestic service or factory class') with the hopes that they could keep their children and referred them to employment situations that supported this goal.

Perhaps as a result of this experience, Cole moved to Washington, DC, where in 1899 she became the Superintendent of the Orphans' Home run by the National Association for the Relief of Destitute Colored Women and Children. Her arrival was mentioned in their thirty-seventh annual report:

Dr. Cole herself has more than fulfilled the expectations of her friends. With a clear and comprehensive view of her whole field of action, she has carried out her plans with the good sense and vigor which are a part of her character, while her cheerful optimism, her determination to see the best in every situation and in every individual, have created around her an atmosphere of sunshine that adds to the happiness and well being of every member of the large family.

The report is from the Daniel A. P. Murray Pamphlet Collection at the Library of Congress. It seems Cole remained in Washington, DC until her death in 1922 - but unfortunately there are no known photographs of her. It is possible this 1870 engraving from Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper does, indeed, feature Cole (in shadow, left-hand corner of the picture); the accopmanying text says:

"...every face is a more or less carefully elaborated portrait- not from photographs, but as they appeared, intent upon the lecture, to the artists eye. The ages of the scholars may also be approximately surmised, and their degree of intelligence and enthusiasm. Among them will be noticed the dark-skinned, but intelligent and intellectual features of the young lady who graduated during the past month, and who, in addition to other distinctions, possesses that of being the first colored female graduated doctoress in America, or perhaps the world."

(Thanks to Diana Carey at Schlesinger Library for the quotation and for details on the image).

While we now know that Cole was in fact the second (after Rebecca Lee Crumpler, who graduated from the New England Female Medical College in 1864), that only became apparent in the 1940s - so it's entirely possible that Cole was sitting in on anatomy lectures in New York as part of her work at the New York Infirmary. (You may be able to tell we've gone back and forth on this one). It's entirely possible there are photos of her as well, as yet undiscovered - perhaps some day a processing project in the DC area will hit paydirt in that regard.

Here are some other links Rebecca Cole researchers may find of interest:
Changing the Face of Medicine (National Library of Medicine)
Emergence Community Arts Collective
The Library of Congress: American Memory
The Library of Congress: Prints and Photographs
Schlesinger Library - Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study

And a few published references that mention Cole (copies of which are available in our archives, atlhough not online):
Brown, Sara W. "Colored Women Physicians." Southern Workman, 52:12 (December 1923) 580-593.

"Dr. Rebecca Lee, First Negro Woman Medical Graduate." Bulletin, Medico-Chirurgical Society of the District of Columbia, Inc., 41:1 (January 1949).

From the Collections: Dr. Amy Kaukonen

We had what turned out to be a fascinating research request for a 1915 Woman's Medical College graduate about whom we had only a small amount of information, but we discovered considerably more in the New York Times online archive and elsewhere. We did have a few photos, notes and some general information from her file, but the story became particularly exciting after she left Philadelphia. First, however, here's what we found on our end:

Amy Kaukonen arrived at WMC in September, 1911, to begin medical school; she came straight from high school in Conneaut, Ohio. Fellow students that year hailed from all across the United States as well as Canada, India, Puerto Rico, Russia and other more distant lands (as evidenced by the matriculation book all students signed). Some had undergraduate degrees, others were high school graduates like Kaukonen and a few already held medical degrees from other institutions.

Apparently Kaukonen made an early mark as extremely studious; the 1911 yearbook offered this couplet for the young freshman:

K stands for Kaukonen, with piles of hair so light;
She grinds so hard, that she forgets to go to bed at night

At some point in 1913 or 1914, she had to take time off due to illness; as a result she was moved into the 1915 graduating class, but the details are a bit vague – there’s just a quick mention of the event in the student magazine (PDF - see page 20), and then she next appears in her graduation photo in 1915 (she's number 21). She remained in Philadelphia to complete her residency at the Woman's Hospital of Philadelphia, and then vanished from our records. When she resurfaced a few years later, she generated national headlines.

In 1921, just months after the 19th Amendment was passed, Dr. Amy Kaukonen was elected mayor of Fairport Harbor, Ohio - becoming one of the first female mayors in the United States. Her platform was largely Prohibitionist, apparently informed by her experiences as a doctor treating victims of moonshiners and bootleggers (a particular concern for the town, given its location on Lake Erie). Upon her election, she received a congratulatory telegram from President Harding and became known nationwide as the glamorous 'Girl Mayor' (although her age seems to vary depending on the newspaper - it's given as anywhere from 22-28 in a number of 1922 articles, but it seems most likely she was actually 31 at the time). Despite the publicity, her job was not smooth sailing - she was assaulted at work and eventually decamped with little notice to Seattle (according to further contemporary news reports kindly forwarded to us by our researcher). There is speculation that the sudden move may have been the result of threats from bootleggers, but we don't have much concrete evidence to go on - it's certainly a possibility.

It seems Kaukonen later returned to Ohio, where she lived out of the spotlight and continued to practice medicine; she married in the 1930s but never had children (laying to rest the rumor that she was the grandmother of Jourma Kaukonen of Hot Tuna fame). We hope our friends at the Finnish Heritage Museum continue to fill in the blanks and keep us posted on their ongoing research.

From the Collections: Dr. Eliza Grier

We often receive reference requests for images and information about Dr. Eliza Grier, who graduated from Woman's Medical College of Pennsylvania in 1897. Although she was not the first African-American graduate of WMC (that honor went to Rebecca Cole in 1867 – the second African-American woman to receive a medical degree in the United States), we have considerably more documentation on her (difficult) life.

We do not have details of her early life beyond the fact that she was born into slavery; she spent the better part of the 1880s putting herself through the Advanced Normal course of study at Fisk University over a period of seven years in which she alternated a year of study with a year of picking cotton in order to support herself. She wrote to WMC to ask whether scholarships or other funding sources might be available (here is the letter - further links lead to scans of other related documents), asking if the College administrators were aware of '…any possible way that might be provided for an emancipated slave to receive any help into so lofty a profession.'

Some help was evidently provided, although not so much that Grier could attend to her studies without seeking outside employment; as a result, it took her seven years to complete her M.D. In 1898, the year following Grier's graduation, WMC Dean Dr. Clara Marshall wrote that Grier had '…been constantly harassed by want of adequate means of support' during her WMC career.

In any event, Grier returned to her hometown of Atlanta and presented herself to the Georgia state board of medical examiners (rather to the surprise of the all-white, all male membership) and was found to be '...thoroughly informed in her profession.' The event was deemed newsworthy; in this clipping (scroll to the bottom right), the North American Medical Review felt compelled to remark upon the licensing of this 'coal black woman doctor' who would '...make no discrimination on account of color' in her practice.

Unfortunately, Grier's triumph over circumstances was short-lived; she became ill in 1901 and, unable to practice, sent a desperate letter to Susan B. Anthony asking for help, which Anthony duly forwarded to Grier's alma mater. Unfortunately, that is where our record ends – there is no indication in the records here as to whether or not some assistance was sent, and Grier died shortly thereafter in 1902.

This is something of a common pattern among some of 'our' 19th century graduates – women who may have come to the medical profession somewhat later in life (often from teaching) finally obtain their medical degrees and then suddenly die after a year or two of practice. I'm sure there's a PhD in there for someone…

For a complete listing of all our digitized files regarding Eliza Grier click here.