The City That Was

by Stephen Smith

During the score of years that the great awakening of the people of England to the value of cleanliness of the individual, the home, and the municipality, as the true remedial measure against foreign as well as domestic pestilences was in progress, extending Apathy in the
United States from 1846 to 1866, the people of the United States remained profoundly apathetic in relation to all questions of improvement of the public health and the prevention of epidemics. Cholera ravaged their cities in 1849, and again in 1854, without meeting other obstruction than the occasional fumes of sulphur. Days of fasting and prayer were religiously observed; but, for the most part, the terror-stricken people fled to the country to escape what they believed to be inevitable death if they remained in their town homes.

The object lesson which the people of England had learned from the experience of one town, and had so successfully applied in several visitations of epidemics, was known to a few students of sanitary science and administration in different parts of this country and efforts had been made by them, from time to time, to awaken public interest in sanitation of the home and the municipality, but very little progress was made. A few cities had health organizations which, for the most part, were devoted to political schemes and purposes, with no pretense to knowledge of the objects or methods of sanitation.

As the simple suggestion of the Prime Minister, that cleanliness of the home and its surroundings was the best measure of protection against cholera, contained the germ of practical sanitary reform in England, so an incident in the writer’s experience An Incident
That Counted became the potential force that gave to New York a most complete system of health laws and ordinances, and an efficient administrative department of health. In a larger sense it may, with justice, be claimed that this incident contained the germ of health reform that has given to this entire country the most perfect system of municipal, state, and national health administration in the civilized world.

The incident referred to occurred in the fifties of the last century. New York was in the grip of the deadly typhus. This was sometimes called the “Spotted Fever,” from the dark spots which appeared on the body of its victims, and also “Emigrant Fever,” because it was brought to this country by the immigrants, especially by those who came from Ireland. Indeed, the Irish immigrants suffered so generally and severely that the disease was sometimes called the “Irish Fever.” Immigration from Ireland was at that time at its flood and the typhus was so prevalent among these poverty-stricken people that the hospitals were overcrowded by them and large numbers were treated in tents, both on Blackwell’s Island and at the quarantine grounds on Staten Island.

Having completed a two years’ term of service on the interne medical staff of Bellevue Hospital, where large numbers of typhus cases were treated, I was placed in charge of the tents on Blackwell’s Island by the Commissioner of Charities. Soon after entering upon the service, I noticed that patients were continually admitted from a single building in East Twenty-second Street.

Impressed with the importance of closing this fever-nest, I visited the tenement and was not surprised at the large number of cases of fever which it furnished our hospital. It is difficult to describe the scene that the interior A Fever
Nest of the house presented to the visitor. The building was in an extreme state of dilapidation generally; the doors and windows were broken; the cellar was partly filled with filthy sewage; the floors were littered with decomposing straw, which the occupants used for bedding; every available place, from cellar to garret, was crowded with immigrants—men, women, and children. The whole establishment was reeking with filth, and the atmosphere was heavy with the sickening odor of the deadly typhus, which reigned supreme in every room.

The necessity of immediately closing this house to further occupation by immigrants, until it was thoroughly cleansed and made decently habitable, was imperative, and I made inquiries for the responsible owner. I found that the house was never visited by anyone who claimed to be either agent or owner; but that it was the resort of vagrants, especially of the most recent and destitute immigrants; that they came and went without let or hindrance, generally remaining until attacked by the prevailing epidemic of fever, when they were removed to the fever hospital.

After considerable inquiry in the neighborhood I found a person who was the real agent of the landlord; but no other information could be obtained than that the owner took no interest in the property, and that the agent The Unknown
Owner was under instructions not to reveal the owner’s name. A suggestion to this agent, to have the house vacated and put in good condition for tenants, was refused with a contemptuous remark as to the absurdity of furnishing such vagrants and immigrants better quarters in which to live.

As there was no Health Department to which an appeal could be made, the Metropolitan Police Department was visited and the matter laid before its president, Mr. Acton. He directed the secretary, Mr. Hawley, a lawyer, to examine the health laws and ordinances to determine what measures were in the power of the police to enforce. A search was made, and the result was that neither law nor ordinance under which the police could take action was found. Mr. Acton advised that the tax lists be examined, to find who paid taxes on the property, and thus discover the responsible party to its ownership, and then that appeal be made directly to him to authorize the necessary improvements. An examination of the tax list revealed that the owner was a wealthy man, living in an aristocratic neighborhood, a member of one of the most popular churches of the city.

The condition of his tenement house was brought to his attention, and its menace to the public health as a fruitful fever nest was explained. He was very angry at what he declared was an interference with the management of his property, and asserted, in the most emphatic manner, that as the house yielded him no rent, he would not expend a dollar for the benefit of the miserable creatures who had so wrecked the building.