It was in the beginning of the reign of Kamehameha V, Prince Lot, that compulsory segregation was established by law and the process of isolation commenced. And now, over half a century later, in no equal period of the history of segregation in the Hawaiian Islands have there been so many voluntary surrenders as since the “Dean Cure” has been known to make headway. Not only have adults asked to be taken for treatment, but children have been brought freely as soon as the nature of their disease was guessed by parents and guardians. This is in striking contrast to the necessity in past years of arresting suspected lepers through deputy sheriffs.
The Kalihi Station is flooded with letters from all over the world, requesting its remedies. The reply must perforce be that these are still of an experimental nature, and not yet commercially available; also that they are for hospital treatment, where the patient is under observation; that they do not lend themselves to the practice even of the family physician; and that they are impossible of self-administration.
Dr. Goodhue is using Dr. Dean’s derivatives of chaulmoogra oil at Kalaupapa; and out of the five hundred and twelve patients, one hundred and seventy-five have been taking regular treatment. Lack of oil is the sole reason that all were not sharing in the capsules or the hypodermic injections; but a full supply has been promised. At the meeting in Kalaupapa, above referred to, Senator L. M. Judd, commenting upon the willingness of the legislature to do everything possible for the patients, remarked that the board of health budget is larger in 1921 than the territorial budget was eight years ago. Dr. Dean, called to speak, was not to be found in the hall. Summoned from outside, he spoke briefly, saying that the laboratory of the University of Hawaii, its force supplemented by workers furnished by the board of health, is working to turn out the oil in sufficient quantities for all needs.
But it was our friend Charles F. Chillingworth, president of the senate, who brought up the problem of finding homes for the patients who would be paroled after they had made Kalaupapa their home for years. He suggested the homesteading by them of lands on Molokai, and voiced his intention of taking the question before the governor and the legislature. The Hawaiian Annual, issued by the Hawaii Tourist Bureau, and the yearly Report of the Governor of Hawaii, trace the progress of the Cure.
For those who have been measurably happy on that verdant cape, and are loth to bid it farewell, how ideal it would be if their homesteads eventually could be chosen from its grasslands, and the yielding valleys of the pali, no longer a barrier to outside intercourse.
But to return:
In a machine, by way of a new boulevard on the coast, we sped to Kalawao, and saw the faithful Brother Dutton, alert as ever among his pupils; then passed on to the imposing Federal Leprosarium on the windswept shore in view of the lordly front of promontories with their feet in the deep indigo sea. This Leprosarium had been built at a cost of $300,000, and was now abandoned and falling into the swift decay of disuse in the tropics. Such a Leprosarium was never known. Jack McVeigh almost wept as he fingered the full equipment of blankets molding in their original wrappings: the beds, the washstands, the endless costly paraphernalia of a hospital, lying inutile and deteriorating, which he was unable to put into needful circulation in the Settlement. Even the fine dynamo, which a caretaker was paid to keep from rusting—“Think how this could furnish my people with electricity!” he mourned. O red, red tape—what a curious institution dost thou create!
Jack London very shortly got himself into trouble by airing his views in the Advertiser, which stirred up a tidy tempest of protest in Washington, D. C.; but he was, after much hot correspondence in the press, the means of Jack McVeigh finally getting his selflessly covetous hands on the outfit of the ambitious edifice.
Eight months after Jack’s death, the Pacific Commercial Advertiser contained a column stating that the Federal Leprosarium would probably be torn down and the material used for building cottages in the Settlement, which, J. D. McVeigh is quoted as saying, “it would be a God-send to secure.” In that column Jack London is mentioned as having been first to suggest such action.
For some reason the edifice has not been touched; and I notice that Dr. Goodhue in 1921, has offered to use it as a hospital for the treatment of patients taking chaulmoogra oil.