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"What Led to Founding the Carville Hospital:
A Little Known Chapter"
By Professor John Smith Kendall, New Orleans
(From THE STAR, 1954)
The power of the printed word, long recognized
as an essential factor in the promotion of any
cause, is heavily accented in a little known
chapter in the history of Carville and how it
all began. It was a series of newspaper articles
appearing in the New Orleans Picayune early
in 1894 that led to the establishment of this
institution. The articles were written by John
Smith Kendall, the paper's youngest cub reporter.
Today, at 80, Mr. Kendall can look back on a
long and purposeful career of newsman, war correspondent,
teacher and author-historian. But the action
he considers his most worthy accomplishment
is that 1894 series.
A former Tulane professor, John Kendall is a
board member of the Louisiana Historical Quarterly
and an acknowledged authority on Louisiana history.
He is the author of several books.
The medical profession has claimed the credit
for establishing the State institution at the
old Indian Camp plantation, the predecessor
of the present national treatment center at
Carville, and rightly so. It was long aware
that sufferers from Hansen's disease were at
large in the community. It knew that they ought
to be hospitalized, both for their own benefit
and at the time for the safety of the community.
Dr. Isadore Dyer, then professor of dermatology
at Tulane University, was deeply interested
in the matter, and I believe had been a leader
in the use of chaulmoogra oil as a specific,
as it was once thought to be. But the medical
men had not been able to do much towards achieving
their goal. What was lacking was the popular
pressure that later developed. All that had
been accomplished was to secure from the City
of New Orleans (I understand that it was the
City, perhaps it was the State) a small appropriation.
With this, one-half of a 5 room double cottage
of Broad Street (then practically at the edge
of the inhabited section of the city) had been
rented. A contract was made with Dr. Beard to
take charge of the place. Some half-dozen sufferers
had been induced to occupy the premises. As
I recall, these one woman (maybe two) in the
group. It was a matter of persuasion to get
these few to accept the not very adequate care
that was available. Dr. Beard was in active
practice in New Orleans, and could spare time
only for occasional visits to the place. I had
a long interview with him in which he explained
that the compensation that he received was too
small to justify him in giving more time to
the patients out at Broad Street. I do not mean
that he neglected them, their condition was
apparently not so serious as to necessitate
more attention than he was able to give. He
struck me as an intelligent and well-meaning
person. However, the people at the cottage were
left largely to their own devices.
At that time I had very recently been hired
as a reporter at the Picayune. The city editor
was a veteran newspaperman named Robinson. It
was the custom to assign a beginning reporter
to report the Board of Health. I was expected
to transcribe each day the record there of births,
deaths and marriages. They were regularly published
under the heading "Vital Statistics."
The clerk at the Board was Henry Lanauze. It
was his custom to scribble the data reported
by physicians about deaths in the city on a
scratch pad, and after office hours to enter
it formally in the register kept for that purpose.
His memoranda always included the cause of death.
The Picayune did not print this last mentioned
detail. However, I noticed that deaths were
reported with some frequency as due to "leprosy."
I began to keep a record of such cases, and
before very long had accumulated a rather startling
list of them. Then I wrote an article on the
subject. I knew nothing then of the labors of
the medical profession, and it did not immediately
occur to me to consult anybody but Dr. Dyer,
with whom I had an acquaintance of rather long
standing. He thought the publication of my article
would be a good thing.
I submitted to Major Robinson (he had been
a major in the Federal Army during the Civil
War and was always accorded his title) an article
about a column in length. The Major realized
that the publication of it would cause considerable
stir. He was reluctant to print it, but finally
decided to do so, but in a very abbreviated
form, with a small headline and on an inside
page. He wanted to give the news for what it
was worth, but in as inconspicuous a form as
might be. Nevertheless, people read it and letters
and visitors began to arrive at the Picayune
office in sufficient number to indicate that
Major Robinson's apprehensions were abundantly
justified. It was then that I began to make
inquiries around the city. I found several cases
which lent themselves picturesquely to my needs.
One was a boy afflicted by the disease who was
regularly employed at the French Market to unload
vegetables. I went to the home of a family,
the head of which was registered at the Board
of Health as having died of "leprosy."
I shall not forget the reception I got there.
I was very courteously furnished with all the
information that I desired, until happened to
mention that the deceased was reported as having
died of the disease which he died of. His wife
became very angry, ordered me out of the house,
and made a gesture toward a broom which induced
me to take my departure at once. She had no
idea that her husband had died of the disease,
and regarded it, as people did then, as something
of a disgrace to have anything of the sort to
happen.
I wrote articles about all of this which Major
Robinson published as inconspicuously as possible,
but not without an increasingly indignant response
from the Picayune's readers. One Sunday afternoon
the Picayune was deserted, except for myself
and a fellow reporter named Ball. I was reading
a book, and Ball was pounding away on his typewriter,
absorbed in the article he was writing. The
door opened and a shabbily dressed individual
came quietly in. He walked over to the ice water
tank in the corner of the room, helped himself
to a drink from the tin cup which we all used
in common when thirsty, and then drew a chair
up beside Ball and said, " I'm a leper!"
"What?" yelled Ball. "Say it
again!"
"I'm a leper. I'm from Dr. Beard's place
on Broad Street. I read you're your articles
in the paper and-"
Ball jumped up and sought refuge in a far corner
of the apartment. Pointing to me, he said, "That's
your man! Don't come near me!"
It was in the ensuing lengthy conversation
that I learned for the first time that there
was a sort of "leprosarium" already
in existence. I made an appointment with the
stranger to go there a day or two later. My
visit was a revelation. I remember on fact that,
when published, provoked the most reverberating
response that the Picayune had so far occasioned.
This was, that the people there did their own
cooking, and that the cook, every morning, selected
the day's meat from a wagon on its way from
the butcher shop to the French Market. He handled
the meat as he pleased in making his choice.
Somehow the idea that the meat was thus contaminated
and then sold over the butcher counters at the
Market, stirred up more indignation than any
other detail that I had unearthed.
The result was that the Committee on Public
Order of the City Council had to take action.
I accompanied the committee when it visited
the Board Street place. I was not then assigned
to the City Hall; the reporter who looked after
the news there was an ex-policeman from New
York, named McCarthy He accompanied the committee
as the Picayune's official representative, but
I was allowed to go along as what Ball called
the "leper editor." McCarthy was terrified
at his "leprosarium" refused to go
further, turning the job over to me.
I wrote an article about the visit. That night,
or very shortly thereafter, I attended a meeting
of the Public Order Committee at the City Hall.
The meeting room was thronged by citizens who
wanted to protest against the "leper situation,"
as it began to be called. The meeting was quite
stormy. The committee chairman, a man named
Louque, didn't seem to know what to do and wound
up by doing nothing. However, other articles
appeared in the Picayune, and the Council was,
if I remember rightly, finally compelled to
take action. But its action was reported by
McCarthy (who had no hesitation in writing about
"leprosy" from the safe precincts
of the City Hall.)
All this happened long, long ago. I was then
barely 17 years of age. As a reporter I had
other things to do besides, write articles about
Hansen's disease. Moreover, the upsurge of popular
indignation which my publication had produced
was seized upon by Dr. Dyer and his associates,
and used to pry loose some additional appropriations,
this time from the State. With the money, the
Indian Camp property was obtained. I do not
wish in anyway to detract from the public spirit
of New Orleans physicians in claiming a considerable
share in the movement which led to the establishment
of Indian Camp. But they had not been able to
make much progress without the support of public
opinion, and this support the Picayune's publication
had given.
I never visited Indian Camp; I was too busy
elsewhere, but I have always had an interest
in it.
I am not particularly covetous of honor for
my contribution to the story of Carville, but
concerned to have an interesting chapter in
its story put on record. The credit, of course,
belongs really to the Picayune.
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