The Strange Case of Dr. Couney
A number of years ago I read a novel titled The Hatbox Baby, by Carrie Brown. It was the story of a man who brought a premature infant to the Century of Progress (aka as the World’s Fair of 1933*) here in Chicago, where premature babies were displayed in incubators as an exhibit alongside freak shows, "ethnographic villages,” and the titilating gyrations of fan dancer Sally Rand. I no longer remember any details about the plot,** but the image of the incubator babies on display stuck with me. All of which is to say that I was eager to read Dawn Raffel’s newly released The Strange Case of Dr. Couney: How a Mysterious European Showman Saved Thousands of American Babies.
I was not disappointed. The story that Raffel unfolds is far more complex than I had any reason to hope, and absolutely fascinating. The enigmatic Dr. Couney himself stands at the heart of the story: the immigrant who reinvented himself multiple times, the showman who put premature babies on display for public entertainment, the unrecognized visionary who pioneered American neonatology. Raffel’s search to understand Dr. Couney and his past takes the reader on a merry-go-round of past and present, placing the story of her research alongside Couney’s own story.*** In the course of unraveling Couney’s story, she introduces the reader to the history of neonatal medicine and the complex politics behind “World’s Fairs.” She describes the common fate of premature infants in the early twentieth century who were not lucky enough to find their way to Couney’s incubators, and interviews some of the now elderly infants whom Dr. Couney saved.
The Strange Case of Dr. Couney is an excellent read, particularly if you’re interested in early twentieth century popular culture, the places where science and history intersect, or the stories of flamboyant, slightly shady showmen.
If you want to know more about the book and its author, join the Nonfiction Fans Group over on Facebook, where Dawn Raffel will be answering questions about the book and her research starting on Monday.
*Not to be confused with the Columbian Exposition of 1893, the setting for Erik Larsen’s The Devil in the White City. Which I have not yet read.
**Not a criticism of Brown's work. I enjoyed the book enough that I immediately read everything else Brown had written.
***A narrative style I find particularly appealing.
Word with a Past: Gerrymander
If Elbridge Gerry (1744-1814) had played his cards right, he could have been a minor but respected figure in American history. He signed the Declaration of Independence, helped draft the Bill of Rights, served two terms in Congress, and was the fifth Vice President of the United States. His contemporaries thought him intelligent, gentlemanly, quirky, and a bit of a hot-head.
Instead his name is permanently linked to the practice of re-drawing political districts for partisan advantage. In 1812, Gerry was a member of the Democratic-Republican party and the governor of Massachusetts. Although he had called for an end to partisan bickering in his inaugural address in 1810, he came to believe that the Federalist party was too close to the British and wanted to restore the monarchy. Gerry went on a partisan power binge. He removed Federalists from state government jobs and replaced them with Democratic-Republicans. He had his attorney-general prosecute Federalist newspapers editors for libel. He even seized control of the Federalist-dominated Harvard College board--presumably recognizing the college as the source of future American political leaders. (Though he may have just gotten carried away. Power is an addictive and intoxicating beverage.)
To put the cherry on the partisan sundae, his fellow Democratic-Republicans, who controlled the legislature, redrew the state's Senate districts in a way that would benefit their party. Previously, Massachusetts' senatorial districts followed country boundaries. The new senate map twisted and turned in irrational patterns to insure a Democratic-Republican victory. Gerry may not have been responsible for the map's design, but he signed it into law in February, 1812.
The Federalist controlled Boston Gazette ran an illustration of the district map in the form of a salamander-like monster and ran it with the title "The Gerry-Mander," claiming it had been born of "many fiery ebullitions of party spirit, many explosions of democratic wrath and fulminations of gubernatorial vengeance within the year past."
There are better ways to have your name live on in the language: public toilets for example.
Gerrymander: To manipulate the boundaries of an electoral constituency so as to favor one party or class.
Let There Be Light
One thing leads to another when I write. One minute I'm focused on the topic at hand. The next thing you know, I'm scurrying down a research rabbit hole.
Earlier this week I was working on an article about a very minor (but quite delightful) artist named named Maurice Busset (1879-1936) who created a portfolio of woodblock prints about the German bombardment of Paris in 1918.* Looking at a print in which citizens of Paris scurry through the night to take shelter in an underground Metro station I suddenly thought, wait a minute: are those flashlights? In 1918?** And I was off.
In fact, it turns out that flashlights were a very real possibility in 1918.
As is so often the case, one innovation rested on another. In the case of the flashlight, it turns out that the necessary first step was the invention of the dry cell battery in 1887--something that had not occurred to me as a limiting factor until I dug in. The flashlight quickly followed. The first flashlights, produced by the American Electrical Novelty and Manufacturing Company*** in 1899 under the name Ever Ready, were expensive novelties, no doubt purchased by the nineteenth century equivalent of the people who stood in line to buy the first iPhones. In fact, they were called "flash" lights because neither the battery or the bulb was reliable. The idea that they were "Ever Ready" was wishful thinking on the part of the sales department.
With the invention of a new type of light bulb and better batteries in 1904, flashlights became cheaper and more reliable. By the early 1920s, there were more than 10 million flashlights in circulation.
Next question?
*Coming to a future issue of MHQ: The Quarterly Journal of Military History--a very good magazine if you are interested in military history, widely defined.
**I did not wonder about the Metro station because I knew that the first subway was dug in London in the mid- nineteenth century and I assumed that Paris was not far behind. In fact, it turns out that the Paris Metro was built in 1900.
***Which ultimately became Energizer. Not surprising since it turns out that batteries are a crucial part of this story.