Meanwhile, I had regularly attended the Fair meetings which were held every Thursday, wondering how persons could afford to meet to so little purpose. There was scarcely any life in these gatherings, and when I saw ladies come week after week to resume the knitting of a baby’s stocking (which was always laid aside again in an hour or two, without any marked progress), I began to doubt whether the sale of these articles would ever bring ten thousand cents instead of the ten thousand dollars which it was proposed at the first meeting to raise in order to buy a house. I used to say on Wednesday, “To-morrow we have our Fair meeting. I wonder whether there will be, as usual, two and a half persons present or three and three-quarters.”
After weeks of this idle waiting, for the few patients who came through acquaintances did not fill much of my time, I began to feel desperate, especially as social life also was so utterly closed against us, and this latter was such a necessity to my temperament. I then proposed to go canvassing with circulars giving information of our previous experiment, to try to collect money for the establishment of a dispensary.
The idea occurred to me to go from house to house and ask for a dime at each, which, if given, would amount to ten dollars a day; and, with the money thus collected daily for half a year, to establish a nucleus hospital which, as a fixed fact, should stimulate its friends to further assistance.
I took my notebook and wrote out the whole plan, and also calculated the expenses of such a miniature hospital as I proposed, including furniture, beds, household utensils, everything, in short, that was necessary in such an institution. With this book which I still have in my possession, I went one evening into Dr. Blackwell’s parlor and, seating myself, told her that I could not work any longer for the Fair in the way that the ladies were doing; and then read my plan to her, which I advocated long and earnestly.
She finally agreed with me that it would be better speedily to establish a small hospital than to wait for the large sum that had been proposed, though she did not approve of the scheme of the dime collection, fearing that I would not only meet with great annoyances but would also injure my health in the effort. At that time, after some discussion, I agreed with her. Now I think that this plan would have been better than that which I afterwards followed. On the same evening I proposed, and we agreed, that on a year from that day (the 1st of May, 1857), the New York Infirmary should be opened.
I went to rest with a light heart, but rose sorrowfully in the morning. “In one year from to-day, the Infirmary must be opened,” said I to myself, “and the funds towards it are two pairs of half-knit babies’ stockings.” The days passed in thinking what was the next best scheme to raise money for its foundation, when an accidental visit from Mary L. Booth to Dr. Blackwell turned the tide in another direction. Miss Booth was serving her apprenticeship as a journalist through the kindness of the editor of the New York Times.[7] Her sister who was a patient of Dr. Blackwell had interested both Mary and him in the idea of women doctors, so Mary came to interview us concerning our practical progress.
This interview led to the disclosure of our wishes and plans regarding the dispensary, and Miss Booth, taking up the idea, made our wishes known in the Times, very guardedly, of course, but decidedly. The effect of this little notice was remarkable, and it gave both Dr. Blackwell and myself new hope and also the courage to ask for similar remarks in other papers.
At the same time, my social circle became a little widened through this acquaintance with Miss Booth which I developed when I found that she also was a beginner in her career and had obstacles to overcome; as, for instance, hiding her sex by signing only her initials to whatever she wrote, or not signing at all.
Thus a few new friends were obtained for our cause, and a few of Dr. Blackwell’s patients who belonged to the sect of Quakers, and who had sustained the former dispensary, came forward promising small subscriptions towards a new effort. Yet no sum was large enough to warrant the expenditure of five hundred dollars, the amount absolutely needed to open this charity for the poor and the chance for us to gain practical experience.
About this time, Dr. Harriot K. Hunt, of Boston, sent a patient of hers to Dr. Blackwell. This patient was accompanied by Dr. W. H. Channing, who was not in practice but who attended this patient with Dr. Blackwell. Becoming acquainted with Dr. Channing, I disclosed to him our financial, professional and social position, enlarging upon the difficulty of obtaining that practical experience in clinics which is so absolutely necessary to the young physician.