Monthly Archives: September 2021

Cholera, Typhus, Typhoid, and Dysentery: Diseases of Days Gone By

Recently in this space, we looked at three mostly-gone diseases that loomed huge in the lives (and deaths) of our ancestors: polio, tuberculosis, and “Genesee Fever.”
This week we look at four more killers from the “good old days” – dysentery, cholera, typhus, and typhoid fever. These four together took a huge death toll in the Civil War, when sickness killed more soldiers than battle causes. On top of that, the men who survived… or at least hadn’t died yet… spread the diseases wherever they went, including home.
These diseases meant not just death but very ugly deaths. We can be glad that they’re largely gone from developed countries, but millions still suffer world-wide.
Cholera is an intestinal disease caused by bacteria. It gives you watery diarrhea that may go on for days. Remember – in days gone by there was nothing to cure such diseases, and very little to treat them. Former President James K. Polk probably died of cholera.
It’s often spread by unsafe water, unsafe food, or contact with the feces of sufferers. Well, food preservation was terrible in those days. When a whole army was in camp or on the march, men took their water where they could find it. Not many Americans knew about germs, and even fewer believed that they made you sick. On top of all that, American soldiers were notoriously cavalier about where they sited the latrine, or even about whether they bothered strolling all the way over there.
Cholera’s treatable nowadays, but more to the point it’s preventable, with food inspection, water treatment, handwashing, and good sewage systems. Sometimes it’s just that simple. Your government at work!
Typhus was another old-time killer, also bacterial but marked by fever, headache, and rash. Since it’s easily spread by lice, fleas, mites, and ticks it felt perfectly at home at 19th-century army camps. It may gave been what killed George Washington’s stepson in 1781. Once again, cleaning things up (clothes and bedding to be sure, but also our own persons) stops a lot of cases that might otherwise kill.
Typhoid fever, caused by salmonella, brought a lot of our forebears to the grave, including Prince Albert, Willy Lincoln, Stephen A. Douglas, William Henry Harrison, and Wilbur Wright. Fever, headaches, constipation, and exhaustion are common… sometimes delirium occurs, which must have horrified parents. Transmission is usually through fecal contamination, once again making 19th-century armies and slums superb breeding grounds. We’ve got vaccines now, and better public health, and more capability to manage symptoms.
Dysentery (sometimes just called diarrhea) was likely the biggest single killer of the Civil War, but it carried off millions of our civilian ancestors too. Outside the tropics it’s mostly caused by bacteria, and once again (WE know), spread through fecal material. The diarrhea is copious and often bloody, and dehydration kills. Public health and personal vigilance can prevent it, or limit it. We can treat it now, but the patient might need to be hospitalized to get the treatment.
According to one figure I read, during the Civil War there were two million men in the Union army, and one-million, nine-hundred thousand of them got dysentery. That’s 95%.
When we look into people of the past we find these diseases on army rolls, gravestones, obituaries, and family Bibles. Sometimes epidemics would devastate entire communities.
Horribly, they often carried off children. Nineteenth-century parenting guides warned mothers not to get attached to their children before their first birthdays. The odds of losing them in the first 12 months was very high, and if you got too attached it would be too heartbreaking. The routine expectation was that each family would lose at least one child – just ask the George Washingtons, the Abraham Lincolns, the Glenn Curtisses, the Winston Churchills, the Franklin Roosevelts, the Dwight Eisenhowers, and the Calvin Coolidges. The “good old days” were not at all what they’re cracked up to be.

The Year’s Last Monarch

Late September. Edging into what perhaps is the most glorious time of year. The spilled-paint burst of color, the lovely temperatures, the clarity of the sky… not just the blue sky of the day’s vault, but also the starry cloak of night. The fun of the first frost. The delight, finally, of the season’s first sight of snow, up on the ridges and hilltops.
For all its joys, there’s a sorrow to it, too. The coming winter, for all its beauties and delights, will be tougher. Swimming’s over, and hiking will soon follow. Summer seems like a long-ago childhood memory. Most flowers are gone. Many birds and animals leave us in search of warmer dens, or sunnier shores.
One day, the year’s last monarch will flutter by. We won’t notice it at the time, but that’s what it will have been. Our lives will be a little sadder for the loss.
These orange glories are a delight to the eye, and a lesson to our morals. At no stage of their lives do monarchs do any harm.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if WE could say that.
Monarch butterflies once filled our summers, and once, near Bath, we actually saw a flock of hundreds winging south. But their numbers have dwindled and dwindled and dwindled, and it’s our fault, almost entirely. We’re wiping out a beautiful creature that never did us, or anyone else, any harm. What excuse could we have?
For everything else that we’ve killed off, or almost killed off, we can construct a justification that is at least comprehensible, even if it’s wrong. Tigers are big and dangerous, and kill our livestock. Our technology needed the components that we rendered from whale carcasses. A poor subsistence farmer could keep his family alive for two or three days by trapping a few dozen passenger pigeons.
No one ever gained a thing from killing a monarch.
We kill them indirectly, by destroying their habitat or poisoning their environments. But we still kill them, when we should cherish and protect them.
Spring and summer spread the monarchs over much of North America – northern Mexico, the 48 states, southern Canada. Nearly all of the monarchs overwinter in a very small area, usually under 10 acres, in Mexico.
The Fish and Wildlife Service recently showed that in fifteen years, almost a billion of these butterflies had been lost.
That’s a staggeringly bad record.
Just as monarchs do us no harm, some people could argue that they also don’t do us any good. Apart from being pollinators they don’t affect us economically. They don’t impact the bottom line.
That being so, why bother to save them? What difference does it make? How would we justify the cost?
Those would all be very good questions, IF we were materialists. If we lived only for the almighty dollar. If we had no compassion on a helpless creature. If we cared nothing for the happiness of children. If we only wanted lives that could be totted up on a balance sheet, and if we were too terrified to step OFF that sheet into the dangers – and the joys – of our world.
The season’s last monarchs are fluttering southward. Notice them as they go.

Consumption, Genesee Fever, and Infantile Paralysis; Diseases of Days Gone By

The coronavirus is surging again, thanks in part to new, more virulent variants, and thanks in part to many people’s carelessness, or even refusal, to follow basic health precautions. There’s no question this one is going down in the history books, because we don’t get pandemics all that often.
A contagious disease is ENdemic when it’s widespread, but mostly stays within one particular group or location. It’s EPIdemic when it’s spreading through a wider area. And it’s PANdemic when it’s widespread all over the map.
Lately both COVID and HIV/AIDS are considered pandemic. So was the Spanish Flu, a hundred years back.
We’ve talked about Spanish Influenza in this space, but there are other diseases that have been very troublesome for our area. Right at the beginning of white-people history in our region, they had a major problem with Genesee Fever, which led to the first burial in Bath, for Christian Williamson, a seven year-old girl.
Diagnosing across two centuries is challenging, but a fair number of knowledgeable people figure that Genesee Fever was malaria. Spread by mosquitoes, it can cause severe alternating fever and chills, along with exhaustion, vomiting, and headache. It’s a killer, especially when there’s very little way to abate the fever.
Much more recently, many of us still shudder at the mention of polio, which can lead to full or (more often) partial paralysis, if not death. The lucky ones limped or were otherwise limited. In more severe cases, like Franklin D. Roosevelt’s, they spent their lives in a wheelchair – for VERY severe cases, in an iron lung.
When cases rose, often in summer, people panicked. They kept their kids at home – NOT what kids wanted to do in summer vacation! Beaches and pools and movie theaters were closed, and so were summer camps.
Hooray for Dr. Jonas Salk! In the 1950s he came up with the world’s first vaccine for that horrible disease. Long lines snaked around schools and community centers as entire neighborhoods waited their turn to get vaccinated. Worldwide cases now are well under a thousand a year.
While some Republican leaders publicly disdain vaccines, Senator Mitch McConnell isn’t one of them. He got polio (“infantile paralysis”) in 1944, when he was two years old. His family almost went broke on treatments, but the Roosevelt Institute at Warm Springs helped him get started on the way to recovery.
A hundred years ago and more, each New York county was required to maintain a tuberculosis sanitarium – Steuben’s was where the Bath V.F.W. is now. For a long time there was no real treatment for “consumption,” though trips to the desert or the Adirondacks, with cleaner air, sometimes eased symptoms.
Robert Koch got the Nobel Prize “just” for identifying the bacillus, without even a treatment or preventive yet. It killed James Monroe and Andrew Jackson, George Orwell and Henry David Thoreau. In some states it was a crime to publicly state that someone had TB, since they would instantly be ostracized. Public health improvements, including milk inspection, reduced the cases until antibiotics appeared – at last it wasn’t a life (and often death) sentence – from then on, people could actually recover.
Cholera, typhus, typhoid fever… measles, mumps, rubella, chicken pox… some are milder than others, but all took their toll in days gone by. We’ll look at them in some future blog. For now, though, we’ve spread enough gloom. The GOOD news is that all the diseases we’ve mentioned can now be prevented or cured – or both! The good old days are one thing. When it comes to health care, give me the good NEW days every time!

Slavery Days in Steuben

By the time white people started moving into our area in large numbers, slavery was still legal in 12 of the 13 states. So tiny numbers of enslaved people trickled in, usually in ones and twos. Frederick Barthles, who founded what we call Bradford, reportedly had “his slave Jim” buried at his feet, though if that’s true, the stone has disappeared.

Eleazar Lindsley brought in seven enslaved people, but Captain William Helm brought up many more… maybe over a hundred… from Virginia. While his arrival was hailed as the coming of gentility and sophistication, it also debuted a spectacle of cruelty and profligacy. To be a slave, and be sold or traded, was bad enough. To be yanked from your family and sent to a new master because Captain Helm lost you in a game of cards was even worse. And he lost a lot.

With very few people owning slaves, and attitudes slowly changing, slaves occasionally got away with facing down their masters. But as Austin Steward walked across Bath’s Pulteney Square on his way to church, he once heard his sister screaming as her master beat her, and couldn’t do a thing. “Imagine my feelings when I saw the smooth-faced hypocrite, the inhuman slave-whipper, enter the church, pass quietly on to his accustomed seat, and then meekly bow his hypocritical face.”

Helm repeatedly hired Steward out, and one night Steward encountered lawyer Daniel Cruger on the Cameron Street bridge. “I asked him to tell me if I was not free, by the laws of New York. He started, and looked around him as if afraid to answer my question, but after a while told me I was NOT free.”

But at a private meeting in Cruger’s office, the lawyer assured Stewart that he WAS legally free, and gave him contact information for abolitionists in Canandaigua. He escaped in company with a young woman known only as Milly, a slave to George Hornell (for whom the city was named). He had legally acknowledged paternity of her child Milo, but now she left Hornell “to take care of himself… resolved on death, or freedom from the power of the slaveholder.”

Pretty much broke, Helm gathered a few confederates for a gigantic kidnaping scheme. A front man arranged a large reunion in Palmyra, particularly for former Helm slaves. The Captain and his gang burst in to capture the whole crowd, race them southward, and sell them off. But the slaves and former slaves fought back with “fists, clubs, chairs, and any thing they could get.” Returning with only a few captives to Bath they grabbed a few more, most of whom later gave them the slip, so they arrived in Virginia with only two young boys.

Daniel Cruger, by then in Congress, got wind of the upcoming sale and investigated. Not only were both youngsters from his district (Elmira and Painted Post), but he actually knew one of them! He also knew darned well that they were both free people, and after extricating them he paid for their journey home.

Thanks to Robert Troup and others, New York slavery ended on the Fourth of July in 1827. Since southern whites only agreed to join the United States if they got bonus Congressional and Electoral votes as a reward for having slaves, each census up to 1820 counted New York slaves. Steuben County’s highest number was 87 (in 1810)… Ontario had 212 the same year, and Allegany 21. The highest total statewide was 21,193 in 1790. Every one of those lives was lived with terror and tragedy looming.