Showing posts sorted by relevance for query blue mass. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query blue mass. Sort by date Show all posts

Saturday, May 11, 2019

Abraham Lincoln used "Blue Mass" (Mercury Tablets) to treat some of his health issues.

It is well known that Abraham Lincoln used Blue Mass[1] also known as Blue Pills (Mercury Tablets) regularly, but there is debate over what ailment the medicine was intended to address. Historians most commonly state that Lincoln used Blue Mass in the treatment of constipation.

Some historians believe that Lincoln's flashes of temper may have been symptoms of mercury poisoning, brought on by Blue Mass, also a common remedy for "melancholy" depression. It may have been both, as it was commonly believed during the time period that problems of digestion, the failure of the liver to properly secrete bile, could lead to mental disorders. In addition to outbursts of rage, the mercury Lincoln ingested may have caused insomnia, forgetfulness, and possibly hand tremors.

Lincoln's use of Blue Mass may have altered his behavior and may explain the erratic behavior and violent rages to which he was subject over a period of years before the Civil War (April 12, 1861 - April 9, 1865).


One story of Lincoln's angry outbursts claims that during one of the famous 1858 Senate debates between Lincoln and Stephen Douglas, in response to an accusation by Douglas about Lincoln's record in Congress, Lincoln furiously grabbed the collar of a former congressional colleague who, Lincoln said, knew the charge was false, shook the man violently "until his teeth chattered."

Some historians believe that this explains the contrast between his earlier behavior (while he was perhaps suffering from mercury poisoning from his use of Blue Mass) and his later behavior during the war (after he had stopped taking Blue Mass), given that most of the effects of mercury poisoning are reversible. Lincoln took the pills which were as widely used in the 18th and 19th centuries as Prozac is today.

Dr. Marshall Baldwin's Nervous Pills contained an undisclosed
amount of mercury leading to heavy metal poisoning.
Blue Mass was prescribed for anything they thought was related to the liver. But that was based on a faulty theory. It only poisoned you.
Blue Mass (aka; Blue Pills) or as a liquid syrup was sold from horse-drawn wagons, such as this one, all over the country. Each vendor mixed their own formula so the amount of mercury was unknown.
Lincoln's health has been more scrutinized in recent decades, as some scientists have sought to show that he inherited a genetic ailment called Marfan Syndrome, which can lead to a gaunt frame, slender fingers, and internal bleeding. Today geneticists consider this diagnosis unlikely.

A study in July of 2001 gives a new perspective on a president revered for his calm and focused leadership through the historic crisis of the Civil War. That steady temperament appears to have emerged only after Lincoln claimed to have stopped taking the pills that his law partner William H. Herndon said was Blue Mass.


There is, however, evidence that Lincoln continued to take Blue Mass. An interview given by his wife Mary Todd Lincoln, to a correspondent from the Pittsburgh Chronicle suggests that Lincoln continued his use of the medication, despite his earlier statements to the contrary.


In an interview, Mrs. Lincoln described an instance in which her husband's "usual medicine," the mercury-based "blue pills," made him terribly ill. Mrs. Lincoln recalled the fact that her husband had been very ill, for several days, from the effects of a dose of blue pills taken shortly before his second inauguration. She said he was not well, and appearing to require his usual medicine, blue pills, she sent to the drug store and gave him a dose that night before going to bed, and that next morning his pale appearance terrified her. "His face," said she, pointing to the bed beside which she sat, "was white as that pillow-case, as it lay just there," she exclaimed, laying her hand on the pillow—"white, and such a deadly white; as he tried to rise he sank back again quite overcome!" She described his anxiety to be up, there was so much to do, and her persistence and his oppressive fatigue in keeping him in bed for several days. They both thought it was so strange that the pills should affect him in that way, as they never had done so before. They both concluded that they would not get more medicine from that pharmacy, as the attendant evidently did not understand how to make up prescriptions.
NOTE: Abraham Lincoln had Malaria,[2] at least twice. The first time was in 1830 (21 years old), along with the rest of his family. They had just arrived in Illinois that year. The second episode was in the summer of 1835 (26 years old), while living in New Salem, Illinois. Lincoln was then so ill, he was sent to a neighbor's house to be medicated and cared for. Malaria, during that time period, would often rear its ugly head throughout ones lifetime.

RUMOR: Lincoln had Marfan syndrome. Today geneticists consider the diagnosis unlikely.  
UNFOUNDED: Lincoln's son, Willie, died from typhoid fever. It is only speculation that Lincoln suffered from typhoid fever at the Gettysburg address. But it is more likely that Lincoln had a mild case of smallpox, because his personal valet, William H. Johnson, develop smallpox caring for Lincoln after the Gettysburg address and he died from it.
Unfortunately, since no hair samples from Lincoln during this period are available, it is impossible to determine whether or not he was truly suffering from mercury poisoning while he was taking Blue Mass.

Did Lincoln's Blue Mass Pills Cause Uncontroable Anger?
Abraham Lincoln reached over and picked a man up by the coat collar at the back of the neck and shook him "until his teeth chattered." He became so angry "his voice thrilled and his whole frame shook." Lincoln only stopped when someone, "fearing that he would shake Ficklin's head off," broke his grip. A new study suggests that mercury poisoning may explain Lincoln's bizarre behavior. 

Lincoln during in this 1858 Lincoln-Douglas debate is a far cry from our vision of Lincoln at the Lincoln Memorial, sitting patient and thoughtful with the weight of the nation on his shoulders. A study published in the Summer of 2001, issue of Perspectives in Biology and Medicine reformulates a common anti-depressive medication of the nineteenth century and shows that it would have delivered a daily dose of mercury exceeding the current Environmental Protection Agency safety standard by nearly 9000 times.

"We wondered how a man could be described as having the patience of a saint in his fifties when only a few years earlier he was subject to outbursts of rage and bizarre behavior," said Norbert Hirschhorn, M.D., retired public health physician, medical historian and lead author of the study. 

"Mercury poisoning certainly could explain Lincoln's known neurological symptoms: insomnia, tremor, and the rage attacks," said Robert G. Feldman, M.D., professor of neurology, pharmacology, and environmental health at the Boston University Schools of Medicine and Public Health, an expert on heavy metal poisoning and co-author of the paper. "But what is even more important, because the behavioral effects of mercury poisoning may be reversible, it also explains the composure for which he was famous during his tenure as president."

Lincoln was known to have taken "blue mass," a pill containing mercury, apparently to treat his persistent "melancholia," (then known also as hypochondriasis.) In 1861, a few months after the inauguration, however, perceptively noting that blue mass made him "cross," Lincoln stopped taking the medication. 

"We wanted to determine how toxic the mercury in the blue mass pills was likely to be," said Ian A Greaves, M.D., associate professor of environment and occupational health and associate dean at the University of Minnesota School of Public Health, coauthor. "We used a nineteenth-century recipe to recreate blue mass. The ingredients included, besides mercury, licorice root, rose-water, honey and sugar, and dead rose petals. It was compounded with an old-fashioned mortar and pestle and rolled to size on a 19th-century pill tile. But, in accord with 20th-century safety standards, we wore surgical gowns, gloves, masks, and caps and worked with modern ventilation equipment."

Caution was well advised. The method of compounding the blue mass pill, dispersing the mercury into fine particles and increasing its surface area, was meant to assure its absorption into the body and did. The vapor released by the two pills in the stomach would have been 40 times the safe limit set by the U.S. National Institute for Occupational Health. The solid element of mercury absorbed from two pills would have been 750micrograms. The EPA indicates that only up to 21micrograms of any form of mercury per day may safely be ingested. Someone who ate the common dose of two to three little pills per day would have seriously risked poisoning. 

"The wartime Lincoln is remembered for his self-control in the face of provocation, his composure in the face of adversity," said Hirschhorn. "If Lincoln hadn't recognized that the little blue pill he took made him 'cross,' and stopped the medication, his steady hand at the helm through the Civil War might have been considerably less steady." 

Compiled by Neil Gale, Ph.D. 


[1] Blue mass was used as a specific treatment for syphilis from at least the late 17th century to the early 18th. Blue mass was recommended as a remedy for such widely varied complaints as tuberculosis, constipation, toothache, parasitic infestations, and the pains of childbirth.

A combination of blue mass, and a mixture called the common black draught, was a standard cure for constipation in early 19th century England and elsewhere. It was particularly valued on ships of the Royal Navy, where sailors and officers were constrained to eat rock-hard salted beef and pork, old stale biscuits (hardtack), and very little fruit, fiber, or other fresh food once they were at sea for an extended period.

It was a magistral preparation, compounded by pharmacists themselves based on their own recipes or on one of several widespread recipes. It was sold in the form of blue or gray pills or syrup. Its name probably derives from the use of blue dye or blue chalk (used as a buffer) in some formulations.

The ingredients of blue mass varied, as each pharmacist prepared it himself, but they all included mercury in elemental or compound form (often as mercury chloride, also known as calomel). One recipe of the period included (for blue mass syrup):
33% mercury (nearly one-third, measured by weight) 5% licorice25% Althaea (possibly hollyhock or marshmallow)3% glycerol34% rose honeyBlue pills were produced by substituting milk sugar and rose oil for the glycerol and rose honey. Pills contained one grain (64.8 milligrams) of mercury.
Mercury is known today to be toxic, and ingestion of mercury leads to mercury poisoning, a form of heavy metal poisoning. While mercury is still used in compound form in some types of medicines and for other purposes, blue mass contained excessive amounts of the metal: a typical daily dose of two or three blue mass pills represented ingestion of more than one hundred times the daily limits set by the Environmental Protection Agency in the United States today.

[2] Malaria was a common disease in Chicagoland and southern Illinois in pioneer days, wherever swamps, ponds, and wet bottomlands allowed mosquitoes to thrive; the illness was called ague (a fever or shivering fit), or bilious fever when liver function became impaired; medical historians believe that the disease came from Europe with early explorers around 1500; early travel accounts and letters from the Midwest reports of the ague, such as those of Jerry Church and Roland Tinkham, the details of which are extracted from their writings:

From the Journal of Jerry Church, when he had "A Touch of the Ague" in 1830: And the next place we came to of any importance, was the River Raisin, in the state of Michigan. There we met with a number of gentlemen from different parts of the world, speculators in land and town lots and cities, all made out on paper, and prices set at one and two hundred dollars per lot, right in the woods, and musquitoes and gallinippers thick enough to darken the sun. I recollect the first time I slept at the hotel, I told the landlord the next morning I could not stay in that room again unless he could furnish a boy to fight the flies, for I was tired out myself; and not only that, but I had lost at least half a pint of blood. The landlord said that he would remove the musquitoes the next night with smoke. He did so, and after that, I was not troubled so much with them. We stayed there a few days, but they held the property so high that we did not purchase any. The River Raisin is a small stream of water, something similar to what the Yankees would call a brook. I was very much disappointed in the appearance of the country when I arrived there, for I anticipated finding something great, and did not know but that I might on the River Raisin find the article growing on trees! But it was all a mistake, for it was rather a poor section of the country. We then passed on to Chicago, and there I left my fair lady-traveler and her brother, and steered my course for Ottawa, in the county of Lasalle, Illinois. Arrived there, I put up at the widow Pembrook`s, near the town, and intended to make her house my home for some time. I kept trading round in the neighborhood for some time, and at last, was taken with a violent chill and fever, and had to take my bed at the widow`s, send for a doctor, and commence taking medicine; but it all did not do me much good. I kept getting weaker every day, and after I had eaten up all the doctor-stuff the old doctor had, pretty much, he told me that it was a very stubborn case, and he did not know as he could remove it, and thought it best to have counsel. So I sent for another doctor, and they both attended me for some time. I still kept getting worse and became so delirious as not to know anything for fifteen hours. I at last came to and felt relieved. After that, I began to feel better and concluded that I would not take any more medicine of any kind, and I told my landlady what I had resolved. She said that I would surely die if I did not follow the directions of the doctor. I told her that I could not help it; that all they would have to do was to bury me, for my mind was made up. In a few days, I began to gain strength, and in a short time, I got so that I could walkabout. I then concluded that the quicker I could get out of those "Diggins" the better it would be for me. So I told my landlady that my intention was to take my horse and wagon and try to get to St. Louis; for I did not think that I could live long in that country, and concluded I must go further south. I accordingly had my trunk re-packed and made a move. I did not travel far in a day, but at last arrived at St. Louis, very feeble and weak, and did not care much how the world went at that time. However, I thought I had better try and live as long as there was any chance.

From a letter by Roland Tinkham, a relative of Gurdon. S. Hubbard, describing his observations of malaria during a trip to Chicago in the summer of 1831: The fact cannot be controverted that on the streams and wet places the water and air are unwholesome, and the people are sickly. In the villages and thickly settled places, it is not so bad, but it is a fact that in the country which we traveled the last 200 miles, more than one half the people are sick; this I know for I have seen it. We called at almost every house, as they are not very near together, but still, there is no doubt that this is an uncommonly sickly season. The sickness is not often fatal; ague and fever, chill and fever, as they term it, and in some cases bilious fever are the prevailing diseases. 

Friday, May 10, 2019

The Premature Aging of Abraham Lincoln from 1860 thru 1865.

No face in American history is more recognizable than Abraham Lincoln. His profile appears on the penny, and an engraved portrait appears on the $5 bill. His image was included among the four presidents carved on the cliff face of Mount Rushmore.
A Pen-and-Ink Portrait of Abraham Lincoln by Leopold Grozelier (1860).
Abraham Lincoln’s physical appearance changed dramatically during his tenure as President of the United States, from March 4, 1861 to April 14, 1865. The magnitude of his apparent aging is often demonstrated by showing a photograph from the start of his first term compared to one taken a few months before his death.
NOTE: Abraham Lincoln had malaria at least twice. The first time was in 1830 (21 years old), along with the rest of his family. They had just arrived in Illinois that year. The second episode was in the summer of 1835 (26 years old), while living in New Salem, Illinois. Lincoln was then so ill, he was sent to a neighbor's house to be medicated and cared for. Malaria, during that time period, would often rear its ugly head throughout ones lifetime. 
RUMOR: Lincoln had Marfan syndrome. Today geneticists consider the diagnosis unlikely. 
UNFOUNDED: Lincoln's son, Willie, died from typhoid fever. It is only speculation that Lincoln suffered from typhoid fever at the Gettysburg address. But it is more likely that Lincoln had a mild case of smallpox, as his valet William H. Johnson develop smallpox caring for Lincoln after the Gettysburg address and he died from it.
FACT: Abraham Lincoln used "Blue Mass" (mercury pills) to treat some of his health issues.
These photographs reveal how increasingly careworn he became over the years, especially during the Civil War (April 12, 1861 - April 9, 1865), where he struggled to restore the Union. 
This photographic series from 1860-1865 is illustrative of the quick aging process experienced by Lincoln.
But a simple comparison of those two extreme photographs does not show the evolution of the change nor the stressful events that induced the striking transformation. In particular, note the significant change in the brief interval from November 1863 to February 1864, a part of which may have resulted from Lincoln's smallpox infection during that period. 
Oil painting of Lincoln giving his Gettysburg Address on November 19, 1863. It's reported that Lincoln had a mild case of smallpox. Lincoln was feeling weaker during the enitre 2 hours he sat on the stage while waiting to be called to speak. Observers called Lincoln's color "ghastly." Lincoln felt so sick that when it was his turn he spoke only 271 words, in ten sentences, in just over two minutes, and immediately got helped off the stage.
Timeline of notable Lincoln events from 1860-1865.

1860
February        Delivers Cooper Union Address
May                Nominated for President of the United States
October         Receives suggestion from a young girl that he should grow a beard
November     Elected President of the United States
December     South Carolina secedes from the Union

























1861
February        Confederate States of America is formed
March            Inaugurated as 16th President of the United States
April               Attack on Fort Sumter, SC
May                Family friend Elmer Ellsworth killed in Alexandria, VA
July                Battle of First Bull Run (Manassas) 
November     Trent Affair with Great Britain

























1862
February         Battles of Fort Henry and Fort Donelson
February         Son William (Willie) dies from typhoid fever
April                 Battle of Shiloh 
May                 Stonewall Jackson in the Shenandoah Valley
June                Battle of Seven Days’
August            Battle of Second Bull Run (Manassas)
September      Battle of Antietam (Sharpsburg)
September      Issues Preliminary Emancipation Proclamation
December       Battle of Fredericksburg

























1863
January           Issues Final Emancipation Proclamation
May                  Battle of Chancellorsville
July                  Battle of Gettysburg
July                  Surrender of Vicksburg, MS 
September      Battle of Chickamauga
November       Delivers Gettysburg Address
November       Contracts mild case of smallpox
November       Battle of Chattanooga

























1864
March              Appoints U.S. Grant Commander-in-Chief of Union Army
May                  Battle of the Wilderness
June                 Battle of Cold Harbor
June                 Siege of Petersburg, VA begins
September      Battle of Atlanta
November       Re-elected President of the United States
December       Battle of Nashville
December       Capture of Savannah, GA

























1865
January           Congress Passes 13th Amendment to the Constitution
March              Delivers Second Inaugural Address
April                 Robert E. Lee Surrenders to U. S. Grant
April                 Assassinated by John Wilkes Booth


























Compiled by Neil Gale, Ph.D. 

Sunday, November 18, 2018

Lincoln Came Near Death from Smallpox while giving the Gettysburg Address.

On the train to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, Lincoln began to tell his staff that he was feeling weak, but he finished editing his address and continued on to Gettysburg. When they arrived, Lincoln rode to the cemetery on horseback and viewed the area and plans. 

When the program began on November 19, 1863, Lincoln sat on the platform for over two hours while classical scholar Edward Everett spoke and during the music piece Dirge by Composer Alfred Delaney.
Dirge was sung at the consecration of the Soldier's Cemetery
at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, on November 19, 1863.
Composed and Arranged for Four Voices. 

Lincoln was feeling weaker all the while, and observers called his color "ghastly." When the President finally got up, he stunned the crowd with his short address (271 words in ten sentences in just over two minutes); most were unaware they missed it. 


Lincoln judged the crowd's silence as disappointment and left Gettysburg himself disappointed. On the train back to Washington, Lincoln grew feverish and weaker still. His valet, William Henry Johnson, sat up with the President, wiping his face with a wet cloth to cool him.
Painting of Abraham Lincoln giving the Gettysburg Address.
By the time Lincoln returned to Washington, his weakness had progressed, and he had become feverish with severe headaches and back pain. By the fourth day of symptoms, a red rash appeared that developed into scattered blisters by the next day. A good description of the rash and its development is lacking. The president's personal physician, Dr. Robert King Stone, first diagnosed him with a cold, then "bilious fever" (fever associated with excessive bile), and then scarlatina (scarlet fever). Both scarlet fever and malaria[1] were common in early 19th century America, including Lincoln's home state of Illinois.
A rare photo of the Gettysburg ceremonies. A group of boys stands at the fringe of a crowd. In the distance, several men wearing sashes can be seen standing on the speakers' platform. Analysis of an enlargement of this photo reveals the image of Lincoln sitting to the left of these men.
Goldman and Schmalsteig reviewed Dr. Stone's records; oddly, he apparently never mentions this illness, though he attended the President through the entire period. As the rash progressed, Dr. Washington Chew Van Bibber was called in for a consultation. After examining the President, he diagnosed a mild case[2] of smallpox (varioloid). Much later, Dr. Van Bibber's version of a conversation with the President was recorded in the autobiography of another surgeon:

Abraham Lincoln photographed
by Alexander Gardner on
November 8, 1863, 11 days
before the Gettysburg Address
.
"Mr. President, if I were to give a name to your malady, I should say that you have a touch of varioloid" [the old-fashioned name for smallpox]. "Then am I to understand that I have smallpox?" Lincoln asked, to which the Doctor assented. "How interesting," said Mr. Lincoln. "I find that an unpleasant situation in life may have certain compensation every now and then. Did you pass through the waiting room when you came in just now?" He replied, "I passed through a room full of people." 'Yes, that's the waiting room, and it's always full of people. Do you have any idea what they are there for?" "Well," said the Doctor, "perhaps I could guess." "Yes," said Mr. Lincoln, 'they are there, every mother's son of them, for one purpose, namely, to get something from me. For once in my life as President, I find myself in a position to give everybody something!"


By day 10 of symptoms, the fever was decreasing, and the rash began to itch and peel. The weakness persists the longest, preventing him from returning to work for the official business for 25 days. Visitors report that he was beginning to walk briefly by December 7 (day 19 of symptoms) and that marks of the rash were visible, but few, if any, remained as facial scars. On December 15, he could work for a few hours and went to a play at Ford's Theater. A month later, on January 12, he was reported as having regained most of his old vigor, though still underweight.

sidebar
Abraham Lincoln had malaria at least twice. The first time was in 1830 (21 years old), along with the rest of his family. They had just arrived in Illinois that year. The second episode was in the summer of 1835 (26 years old) while living in New Salem, Illinois. Lincoln was then so ill he was sent to a neighbor's house to be medicated and cared for. Malaria, during that time period, would often rear its ugly head throughout one's lifetime.

RUMOR: "Abraham Lincoln Had Marfan Syndrome." Today, geneticists consider the diagnosis unlikely.

UNFOUNDED: Lincoln's son, Willie, died from typhoid fever. It is only speculation that Lincoln suffered from typhoid fever at the Gettysburg address. But it is more likely that Lincoln had a mild case of smallpox, as his valet William Henry Johnson developed smallpox caring for Lincoln after the Gettysburg address, and he died of it on January 28, 1864.


Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.


[1] Malaria was a common disease in Chicagoland and southern Illinois in pioneer days, wherever swamps, ponds, and wet bottomlands allowed mosquitoes to thrive; the illness was called ague, or bilious fever, when liver function became impaired; medical historians believe that the disease came from Europe with early explorers around 1500; early travel accounts and letters from the Midwest reports of the ague (a fever or shivering fit), such as those of Jerry Church and Roland Tinkham, the details of which are extracted from their writings:

From the Journal of Jerry Church, when he had "A Touch of the Ague" in 1830: ...and the next place we came to of any importance was the River Raisin, in the state of Michigan. There, we met with several gentlemen from different parts of the world, speculators in land and town lots and cities, all made out on paper, and prices set at one and two hundred dollars per lot, right in the woods, and musquitoes and gallinippers thick enough to darken the sun. I recollect the first time I slept at the hotel, I told the landlord the next morning I could not stay in that room again unless he could furnish a boy to fight the flies, for I was tired out myself and not only that, but I had lost at least half a pint of blood. The landlord said that he would remove the mosquitoes the next night with smoke. He did so, and I was not troubled so much with them after that. We stayed there a few days, but they held the property so high that we did not purchase any. The River Raisin is a small stream of water, similar to what the Yankees call a brook. I was very disappointed in the country's appearance when I arrived there, for I anticipated finding something great and did not know that I might see the article growing on trees on the River Raisin! But it was all a mistake, for it was rather a poor section of the country. ...We then passed on to Chicago, and there I left my fair lady traveler and her brother and steered my course for Ottawa in Lasalle, Illinois. Arrived there, I put up at the widow Pembrook's, near the town, and intended to make her house my home for some time.

I kept trading around in the neighborhood for some time and was taken with a violent chill and fever and had to lay down at the widow's, send for a doctor, and commence taking medicine, but it all did not do me much good. I kept getting weaker every day, and after I had eaten up all the doctors-stuff the old Doctor had, he told me that it was a very stubborn case, and he did not know he could remove it, and he did not know as he could remove it, and thought it best to have counsel. So I sent for another doctor, and they both attended to me for some time. I kept getting worse and became so delirious as not knowing anything for fifteen hours. I, at last, came to and felt relieved. After that, I began to feel better and concluded that I would not take any more medicine of any kind, and I told my landlady what I had resolved. She said I would surely die if I did not follow the Doctor's directions. I told her that I could not help it, that all they would have to do was to bury me, for my mind was made up. In a few days, I began to gain strength, and in a short time, I got so that I could do a walkabout. I then concluded that the quicker I could get out of those "Diggins," the better it would be for me. So I told my landlady I intended to take my horse and wagon and get to St. Louis, for I did not think I could live long in that country. I concluded I must go further south. I accordingly had my trunk re-packed and made a move. I did not travel far in a day but finally arrived at St. Louis. I was feeble and weak and did not care much about how the world went then. However, I thought I had better try and live as long as there was any chance. 

From a letter by Roland Tinkham, a relative of Gurdon. S. Hubbard, describing his observations of malaria during a trip to Chicago in the summer of 1831: ...the fact cannot be controverted that on the streams and wet places, the water and air are unwholesome, and the people are sickly. In the villages and thickly settled places, it is not so bad, but it is a fact that in the country in which we traveled the last 200 miles, more than one-half of the people are sick; this is what I know for I have seen. We called at almost every house, as they are not very close together, but there is no doubt that this is an uncommonly sickly season. The sickness is not often fatal; ague and fever, chill and fever, as they term it, and in some cases, bilious fever are the prevailing diseases. 

[2] Did Lincoln have a full-blown case, or was it mild due to a previous smallpox vaccination (or variolization)? Modern vaccination protocol uses the related vaccinia virus (cowpox) to elicit immunity to protect against smallpox.

Variolization takes material from an active smallpox lesion and inoculates a healthy person through a cut in the skin. Variolization is riskier than vaccination because it can produce a full-blown case of smallpox. Yet, smallpox was so devastating, with such a high mortality rate (about 30%), that people were willing to undergo variolization, and the mild case of smallpox it usually created to increase their chances of surviving smallpox.

Wednesday, November 29, 2017

Gyros, the first servied in America were in Chicago.

The first Greeks to inhabit Chicago came by ship in the 1840s. They worked hard to establish themselves upon landing in Chicago, and eventually, many of them became restaurant owners. This fledgling community was originally concentrated around Harrison, Blue Island, and Halsted. Since most of this population was Greek, the area quickly became known as Greektown. 

In the 1960s, Chicago saw development on the West Side; the Eisenhower Expressway and the University of Illinois at Chicago were built. Thus, the Greek community was forced to relocate a few blocks away. They settled in what is now known as modern Greektown. Although the Greek community was established by this time, it wasn’t until the first gyros in America were made in Greektown around 1965 that the Greeks began to have notoriety in Chicago. The instant gyros were introduced, and they became wildly popular.

Using this success as a starting point, Chicago’s Greek community celebrated its heritage more boldly. Over the next two decades, the number of restaurants and small businesses grew dramatically and Greektown became the most popular destination for Greek cuisine.
The Taste of Greece and several parades were also instituted as annual celebrations during this time. In 1996, the City of Chicago funded street renovations and the building of traditional Greek pavilions at various points in the neighborhood.
The Greek Islands is one of Chicagoland's favorite authentic Greek Restaurants.



[1] Gyros Cones: Several people lay claim to have been the first in America to mass produce Gyros cones.
               
George Apostolou says he served the first gyros in the United States in the Parkview Restaurant in Chicago in 1965 and nine years later opened a 3,000-square-foot manufacturing plant, Central Gyros Wholesale.

Peter Parthenis says he beat Mr. Apostolou to mass production by a year with Gyros Inc. in 1973.

Andre Papantoniou, a founder and the president of Olympia Food Industries, says the gyro plant was actually the brainchild of John Garlic. Mr. Papantoniou swears that during the rotisserie-making phase of Mr. Parthenis’s career, a John Garlic appeared in Chicago searching for a partner in a gyro plant he’d started in Milwaukee. Mrs. Garlic tells the story; “John got the idea for Gyros from me,” Ms. Garlic said. “One afternoon, I was watching ‘What’s My Line?’ and there was a Greek restaurant owner on the show, and he did this demonstration, carving meat off a gyro. I immediately called an operator and asked for the number of a Greek restaurant in New York. The owner I got on the phone said, "Go to Chicago. There’s a huge Greek community."

”At the time, Mr. Garlic was a Cadillac salesman in his late 30s, but he quickly saw his future in gyro cones. After finding a Chicago chef willing to share a recipe, the couple rented space in a sausage plant and cranked out history’s first assembly-line gyro cones. They were a hit. “We supplied summer festivals, universities, and some restaurants,” Ms. Garlic said. “John could sell anything.”

Monday, January 7, 2019

The Virden, Illinois, Coal Mine Massacre on October 12, 1898

It had been raining in Virden (25 miles south of Springfield, Illinois) for days. A cold October rain. Day and night, dozens of members of the newly formed United Mine Workers of America (UMWA) patrolled the railroad tracks which led northward toward the Chicago-Virden Coal Company mine.
Joining Virden miners, a contingent of 60 miners from Mt. Olive patrolled in shifts of 40, while the other 20 freezing and exhausted men slept in the hayloft of a friendly farmer's barn. Along with miners from Springfield and smaller surrounding towns, they watched and they waited.

The miners were organizing to fight back against the intransigence (refusal to change one's views or to agree about something) of the Chicago-Virden Coal Company. Despite an agreement arrived at between the new union and coal operators statewide in January of 1898 to settle a biter six-month strike, Chicago-Virden and a handful of other companies were determined not to pay the new higher wage scale of 40 cents per ton of coal mined.
All spring and summer, the coal operators made their preparations. They recruited African-American miners from Birmingham, Alabama, promising them high wages and good conditions. In this way they sought to drive a wedge between white and Negro miners. They built a stockade of four-inch oak around the mine. They hired ex-police from Chicago and private detectives from St. Louis and bought them brand new Winchester rifles. And now the train carrying strikebreakers sped north from St. Louis to the big Virden mine. 

It was October 12, shortly after the noon hour, when the miners stationed south of the mine spied the train coming. A miner posted on lookout fired a warning signal. And soon the train, carrying strikebreakers and armed train guards, approached the stockaded mine. Miners waited, armed with hunting rifles, pistols and shotguns. As the train slowed down at the depot, a shot rang out and then the battle began in earnest, continuing as the train moved along and then stopped in front of the stockades. With the miners in an open field they took the brunt of the carnage. To a mine guard who survived, the bloodshed conjured up images of the Spanish-American War then raging in Cuba and the Philippines.It was "hotter than San Juan Hill," he recalled. After ten minutes of mayhem, having received a gunshot wound, the train engineer thought better of stopping in Virden and continued on to Springfield, his strikebreaking cargo still aboard.
The union miners paid for their militant stand: eight died, four of these from Mt. Olive, and some forty were injured. The mine guards also paid a price: four dead and five wounded. And at least one Negro strikebreaker aboard the train was seriously wounded. For the UMWA, the victory was worth the cost. A month later, the company repented and granted the wage increase and Illinois became a bastion of union power in the coalfields for decades.

For years afterward, area miners remembered the Battle of Virden, the deadly toll it had taken, and its importance to the building of the union. In 1918, members of the nearby Girard, Illinois local addressed an appeal to the state union office for help. Two fellow union miners from Girard, who had been shot dead at Virden in 1898, had left widows who were now penniless. In making their case for special aid, the Girard miners proclaimed the following of their fallen union brothers: "By their blood we cam into being as prosperous, powerful free men." Proudly they added that "The stockades of slaves have been removed from all mines in our state...We stand today as most respected citizens." And once again they reminded union officials that "it cost blood to gain our recognition."

Twenty years after the victory which catapulted the UMWA to power in the Illinois coalfields, miners had to muster their rhetorical skills to ensure that the families of the Virden martyrs received their due. Today, a full century after the bloody Battle of Virden, there is an even more pressing need to explain how this intense battle cam about, who the union fighters were, what they achieved, and failed to achieved, and why the lessons of Virden are still relevant to working people today.

The essential prelude to the bloodshed at Virden was the great strike of 1897, which encompassed miners from West Virginia to Pennsylvania to Illinois and established the first agreements between coal operators and the UMWA. In announcing the strike, which began on July 4, UMWA national president Michael Ratchford declared that "Independence day" cannot be celebrated by American slaves in a more patriotic manner than to make proclamation to the world that they will no longer submit to industrial servitude. In Illinois, that "industrial servitude" was experienced daily by miners and their families. To begin with, miners endured the effects of a deep economic depression, the most recent sparked by a stock market crash in 1893. As a result, employment was highly uncertain. During 1897 in Macoupin County, for instance, miners worked an average of 179 out of a possible 300 workdays. For this they earned an average $190. Even in relatively good times, miners lost income because of the still widespread practice of "screening" the mined coal, which cut down on the tonnage recorded. Or they lost from the practice of underweighing, which happened often in the absence of a union checkweighman (a worker who checked the weight of the coal against the company's calculations).

As if meager and uncertain wages weren't enough, coal miners worked in an extremely dangerous industry. Illinois mines generally did not build up large amounts of methane gas, but this very fact led mine workers to spend less in protecting their investment underground. The four main categories of hazards were what miners referred to as bad top, bad roads, (inside the mine), bad shots and bad air. For miners and loaders (unskilled workers who only shoveled coal and did not do skilled undercutting with a pick), by far the most common cause of injury and death was bad top or a collapsing mine roof. In 1899, for instance, Frank Stroff arrived for work at a Madison County coal mine and worked for only twenty minutes when a gigantic piece of slate fell directly on him, instantly crushing the life out of him. The year before, just fifteen days after the Virden battle, Nicholas Lacquet went to work at a St. Clair county mine and was crushed by a falling top, living only a day more, and leaving a wife and a fourteen-year-old son to forge on without him.
Before 1897 most mining families faced the twin hazards of hunger above ground and death down below without benefit of a union. In 1892, two yeas after the UMWA was formed, the treasury of the Illinois District 12 contained the grand total of $5.40. The depression decimated the ranks of what unions did exist. On the eve of the 1897 strike, out of 35,000 Illinois coal miners in Illinois, only 400 belonged to the UMWA. Miners in DuQuoin, among other areas, were forced to sign "yellow-dog" contracts, in which miners pledged they would not join a labor organization. The 1890's had witnessed many defeats for workers and their efforts to organize against the greed of corporations. In 1892 workers waged a pitched battle against Pinkertons at Homestead in an effort to keep their union and such benefits as the eight-hour day. After the state militia arrived, Andrew Carnegie won that battle, and consequently workers witnessed the advent of twelve-hour days and the destruction of hard won gains. In 1894 the famous Pullman strike went down to defeat after President Cleveland called federal troops to Chicago to defeat the strikers. It was this deprivation of rights that made Ratchford's appeal to miners as slaves who sought liberty ring so true.
Despite the fact that a tiny minority of miners belonged to the union in 1897, coal diggers all over the state responded with a massive show of solidarity. Starting on July 15, in Mt. Olive, a bastion of unionism, miners undertook a grand march south through one coal town after another, calling miners out of the pits. "Gathering strength like a rolling snowball," as one reporter put it, the miners held impromptu rallies, won broad moral and material support from the communities they marched through, and often collapsed in a heap at the end of the day. In many towns, local merchants offered free food and drink and town officials offered city facilities for miners to meet and sleep. Women in coal mining families played an important part in their success. A Glen Carbon woman gave the strikers all the food in her house. She then brewed a large pot of coffee and came "trudging though the weeds with her little girl following behind with a basketful of teacups." "Do you want some coffee," she asked. "O, no mam!" they joked, "we don't want any coffee," as they devoured the two gallons in two minutes.

Who were the miners who led this fight? The best known was Alexander Bradley, a 32-years-old mule driver who worked in the Mt. Olive mines. Born in England in 1866, Bradley came to Illinois at age seven and within two years was already working as a slate picker in a Collinsville mine called "Devil's Hole." By the mid-1890's, Bradley had traveled widely throughout the Midwest, tramping with other unemployed miners to Chicago and taking part in the famous march to Washington, DC of Coxey's Army of the unemployed of 1894. Now living in Mt. Olive, Bradley led the march which stepped off in July, 1897. In the course of the strike, "General" Bradley, as he became known, developed a well-earned reputation as a colorful and charismatic figure.8 Arriving with his "troops" in Collinsville, for instance, Bradley sported "corduroy trousers, a light blue coat, white shirt, brown straw hat, toothpick (narrow and pointed) shoes, at least three emblems of secret societies and several rings on his fingers...[as well as] a light cane or a furled umbrella.

On other occasions Bradley wore a Prince Albert coat and a black silk top hat, and seemed to have an unflappable ability to inspire his fellow miners to continue the fight. Using ballads and cajoling and the presence of mass marches, Bradley inspired his fellows to fight for their "liberty" in the same way they braved the mines every day underground. Their time was coming, he assured his brothers and their families.

The strike and mass actions of 1897 developed new rank and file leadership, including recently arrived immigrant miners from Eastern Europe, who generally worked as unskilled loaders in the Illinois mines. Right beside General Bradley as he stepped off from Mt. Olive, for instance, marched a Slavic co-worker, probably Bohemian, who bore aloft a huge American Flag. Workers seemed to discover that mass action and inclusivity could bring victory.


New immigrants who had learned these lessons, including Bohemians, also would be among those who streamed into Virden from surrounding communities and who shed their blood at Virden on October 12. Compared to Mt. Olive miners, who included a relatively high proportion of new immigrants at this time - mainly from Croatia, Bohemia and Italy - Virden's mining work force was overwhelmingly English-speaking, both native-born and from England and Scotland. One National Guard officer at Virden, reflecting widespread anti-immigrant prejudice, suggested that "foreigners" from outside of town were responsible for the violence at Virden. Anti-immigrant prejudice also surfaced in the UMWA in the period after the 1897 strike. But when miners at a subsequent convention used the derogatory term "hunkies" to refer to Eastern European immigrants, a union leader recalled the role they had played in the great strike. "If it were not for those so called Austrians, Hunks and Bohemians before the '97 strike," he told the delegates, "you would not have what you have today. Those were the men who went out and ate grasshopper soup to help win the strike." As in 1897, the 1898 battle at Virden found new and old immigrants and native born joining together to enforce a determined solidarity. This time some would make the ultimate sacrifice for the union.

What did the union fighters of 1898 achieve? Most obviously, they secured nearly statewide recognition of the UMWA and turned back employers' attempt to undercut the newly won 1897 standards. In addition to the tonnage scale increase, which meant a wage increase, they won an eight-hour day for hourly workers, mine-run payment for coal (limited screening), official status for the union pit committee, and a check-off of union dues. The victorious strike also brought to the fore a new generation of younger, militant UMWA leaders such as John Walker, Adolph Germer, and Frank Hayes, all of whom became leaders also in the new Socialist Party of America. Illinois went on to gain the well-deserved reputation as the single largest, richest and most militant district in the UMWA. A generation of union fighters would remember the significance of Virden in securing Illinois' reputation in the larger national union and in the pantheon of labor history. In subsequent contracts the Illinois UMWA won October 12 as an official holiday - Virden Memorial Day - as a way to honor their fallen comrades.

Famed union organizer Mother Jones, the "Miners' Angel," was so inspired by the heroism displayed at Virden that she asked to be buried next to the "brave boys" who gave their life for the union. In tribute to them, she lies buried in the Mt. Olive Union Miners' Cemetery today."

A less obvious achievement of the Battle of Virden is something that did not happen: Republican Governor Tanner did not send in troops to break the strike. At Homestead and Pullman, government troops had played a decisive part in defeating workers. Unlike their corporate counterparts in these battles, the stubborn Illinois coal operators found that the State of Illinois would not so easily cooperate. T.C. Loucks and Fred Lukins of Chicago-Virden Coal initially expected and then desperately pleaded with Governor Tanner to call out the National Guard for strikebreaking duty. But he refused. Only after the gunfight in Virden did the troops arrive, and for the next month they prevented strikebreakers from landing in Virden.

Part of the explanation is that 1898 was a mid-term election year. In stumping for Congressional candidates, the Republican Governor Tanner competed with former Governor John Peter Altgeld, Democratic Party leader and darling of the Illinois labor movement. As a result, Tanner posed as the friend of the strikers.

Unfortunately for the cause of broader labor solidarity, the way he did this was to whip up the miners' racial, class and nativist prejudices against "imported labor." At one point, while careful not to mention the question of skin color, Tanner boasted that he would not allow Illinois to become a "dumping ground for the criminal and idle classes of other countries or other states." Tanner was undoubtedly gunning for votes. But, aside from the low quality of this kind of "help" for the miners, it would be a mistake to see only election strategy at work. A good deal of the credit for the Governor's "pro-labor" stand must go to the strikers of the previous year who had convinced the large majority of the state's coal operators, and the state's political establishment, that they had no choice but to deal with the UMWA if they wished to get their precious coal to market. The union had garnered a great deal of public sympathy for their cause. After all, nearly all the coal companies had already signed with the UMWA. Because of the militant solidarity displayed in 1897, that is, Governor Tanner had little choice in 1898.

And what of the limits of miners' success in the Battle of Virden? That would have to be the powerful and ongoing scourge of racism in the region.

Ironically, just as the divisions between native-born and immigrant miners were beginning to weaken, those separating Negro and white miners seemed to grow stronger. This is despite the fact that African -American union miners, mainly from Springfield, were among those who patrolled the tracks approaching Virden in a show of solidarity with their Virden brothers. In addition, a group of Negro union miners in Alabama, learning that operators sought to trick Negro workers into serving as strikebreakers in the nearby town of Pana, held a meeting that denounced the scheme. Moreover, most of the penniless Negro miners and their families who arrived in Virden refused to serve as strikebreakers once they learned the truth of the situation. But the operators' divide and conquer tactic was partly successful. It seemed to many Illinois miners that "Negro" and "strikebreaker" meant the same thing.

This misidentification made it easier for Governor Tanner to pose as a friend of labor, as he subtly played on the racial prejudices of working people. In the larger international context, such ideas of racial superiority were critical in mobilizing the entire nation to fight wars against the Spanish Empire in 1898 and then against the heroic Filipino independence movement during these years. Closer to home, at least in part as a result of the racist dynamics of the strike, the Negro population of the region's mining towns remained quite small. Compared to the other major unions of the day, the UMWA succeeded to an impressive degree at including Negroes in its ranks. But the racially segregated nature of the mine workforce in this corner of Illinois pointed to the challenges for forging working-class solidarity which lay ahead."

In 1900, Cal Robinson, a negro man, stood before the Illinois union convention and spoke of the work to be done, "There are five shafts in and around Springfield, all supposed to be managed by good union men, and in these shafts no colored men work, simply on account of their color... If you do what is right in this matter, gentlemen, you will have none of your Virden and Carterville riots, and no blood will be spilled. If this discrimination is blotted out you will never hear of such riots as we have had in this State. This discrimination means that when the negroes are barred from these shafts and if there is a strike ordered at these places, the operators will say they will get negroes from the South and that they will run the shafts. Gentlemen, we should get closer together; it behooves all to do this; it will stop all friction."

By Carl Weinberg, Illinois Labor History Society 
Edited by Neil Gale, Ph.D.