March 20, 2023 · 9:08 am

Researchers Helping Archivists: Smallpox in Texas

Sometimes posts for this blog include new historical research by our staff.  Sometimes it is used as a way to promote certain collections.  Sometimes our posts are just meant to be fun.  For this post, we wanted to discuss some of the ways in which researchers interact with the archives and must draw conclusions based on information that is found in the collections and the information that is not.

In December 2021, a researcher named Lanny Ottosen with the Travis County Historical Commission in Austin, Texas reached out to us looking for information about the Texas smallpox epidemic of 1917.  While the archives certainly have collections related to the Daughters’ history in Texas, none of us are Texas residents immersed in detailed Texas history, and none of us were familiar with the state’s smallpox epidemic. 

The initial responses that we sent did not contain an enormous amount of information.  A few of the published, formal histories of the hospital included a paragraph about the smallpox epidemics.  One described how a few Daughters of Charity ventured the seven miles north of Austin to work at the “pest camp,” a then-common term for a quarantine sites, and listed the Daughters who “probably worked at the camp.”  While it is good that this information was noted, it was far from the empirical accounts that either we or Mr. Ottosen were looking for, and the “probably” does not inspire the greatest accuracy in the information.  There were, however, five letters describing the smallpox epidemic in the special service collection related to such outbreaks, four from Sister Ursula Fenton to the Provincial from March-May 1917 and one from Sister Lucia Beil from May 1917 with eyewitness accounts of nursing at the camp.  Sister Ursula’s first letter even went into detail about death rates in the camp and the city at large and the first names of Sisters who went to nurse there.

Sister Ursula Fenton to Sister Catherine Sullivan, March 22, 1917

Mr. Ottosen was able to confirm that these letters matched the newspaper clippings he had discovered.  He then asked about any photos of the smallpox camps of 1917 or the more famous Spanish flu camps of 1918, the latter of which we were well aware of the in the collection and happily passed on to him.  He then asked another question that stumped us a little, as he asked about entries in the patient registers.  These are large bound volumes from the early days of Seton Hospital noting the names of patients and their diagnoses.

For being such a large epidemic, there were only two entries for smallpox in March 1917.  However, the second entry contained a key clue as to the reason for this lack of information.  The comment on the entry reads “Transferred to P.H.,” presumably meaning pest house.  No further smallpox cases appear throughout the rest of 1917.

We are left to make an interpretation of history based not only on what is included in the records, but also based on what is missing from the records.  We know that there were extensive cases of smallpox, nursed by the Daughters of Seton Hospital, but they do not appear in the patient registers.  We have deduced that, after a certain point, when the city and county began to ramp up their public health measures, the quarantine sites had their own patient registers, which, to date, have not been found.

Mr. Ottosen published his extensive research on the Travis County Pest Camps through the Travis County Historical Commission blog:  https://traviscountyhistorical.blogspot.com/2023/02/a-history-of-travis-county-pest-camps.html.  We thank him for his assistance in writing this post and for his approval of the use of his name related to his research requests and to this post. 

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February 24, 2023 · 1:06 pm

The St. Malachy School Collection, St. Louis

When St. Malachy parish was founded in 1860, the Mill Creek neighborhood in which it was located was largely Irish.  By the early 20th century, the neighborhood formed the heart of a major African American neighborhood of St. Louis, with successful small businesses, churches, and a music scene helmed as the home base of Scott Joplin and Josephine Baker.

In 1941, the Archdiocese of St. Louis turned operation of the parish over to the Jesuit Fathers.  By this point, redlining and segregation had eroded the neighborhood, with the city neglecting to care for water, electricity, or deteriorating buildings.  It was in this environment that the Jesuits invited the Daughters of Charity, long established in the St. Louis area, to open a school.

The school operated from 1941 to 1959, although enrollment began to decline after 1947 when Archbishop Joseph Ritter enacted desegregation throughout the Catholic schools of the Archdiocese.  Prior to desegregation, the accounts in the collection written by Daughters of Charity depict a group of sisters trying their hardest under highly restricted circumstances, teaching in a substandard building with secondhand supplies and minimal assistance. 

Archbishop Ritter had advocated integration in the schools before the Supreme Court Brown v. Board decision, and the end of segregated schooling offered a happy ending for the children and their educations.  A 1957 account in the collection attested that “because the children of our families are now permitted to attend white schools, their families are moving into better neighborhoods.”  This did not mean that the old neighborhood saw an end to its neglect, however.  Whether it was described as “slum clearing” or “urban renewal,” the effect was the same when, in 1959, almost 20,000 residents were removed and much of the neighborhood – including St. Malachy Parish – was demolished.  https://news.stlpublicradio.org/show/st-louis-on-the-air/2018-03-01/remembering-mill-creek-valley-once-home-to-20-000-black-st-louisans

From St. Louis Globe Democrat

The St. Malachy School collection is not large, just half an archival box that stacks three or four inches high.  The Daughters’ accounts reflect the challenges of the times in which they lived and served.  They show a strong awareness that their students were being shortchanged, both by the poverty of their neighborhood and the way in which their schools had been neglected for resources.  There is evident regret that they were unable to do more for their students: 

Sister Aurelia [Hogan] had trained her summer school catachumens well, and the neophtes [sic] followed suit.  The older boys brought out saw-horses on which they placed boards, making two long tables, while benches and chairs were quickly hauled forward.  The children, smaller ones first, formed in a single line leading toward the counter, at which seven W.P.A. [Works Progress Administration] colored workers dished up a steaming hot dinner.  We marveled at the order maintained, for though each child received his portion and immediately walked to his place, not one touched  a morsel until the entire table – about fifty children had been seated.  Then, with heads reverently bowed, they said Grace in unison, and ate dinner.  Poor hungry children!  Father informed us that this was the only “square” meal some of them got all day.  It was furnished in part by the W.P.A. surplus commodity program, while Father supplied the rest with whatever financial assistance he was able to procure from charitable benefactors.

….

Of classroom equipment there was none – no text-books, no blackboards nor chalk, no paper nor pencils.  So, with a fervent “Veni Sancte” in our hearts, we read and sang – anything to quell disorder, — until Father McHattie arrived to perform what was probably the hardest duty of his new position.  How his big, compassionate heart must have hurt as he quietly explained to the children that as we could accommodate only two hundred pupils, he was forced to send nearly half of them back to their former schools.  Then Father read a list of names and a sad, heartbroken crowd of youngsters followed him out of the room.

The narrative accounts of St. Malachy and the neighborhood all depict African Americans from a white point of view, but this does not mean that the collections are devoid of information that directly provides pieces of information about individual members of Mill Creek’s African American residents.  While there are no surviving class lists in the collection, programs of events provide names of students along with their graduating year.  Other publications reflect the pride of taking part in the school and parish communities and demonstrate a proud and successful Black Catholic parish.

Edition of a Parish newsletter, 1946
Commencement program, 1943

The collection also, perhaps most valuably, contains approximately 50 photographs that show the life of the school and of the Mill Creek neighborhood.  Among them are the joy that only comes from children. 

The collection is available here in the Archives for on-site research.  It is a candidate for digitization in the near future, and we hope to provide an update when that day arrives.  Based upon research need, we can create scans for remote use.  Please contact archives@doc.org for more information or to schedule an appointment.

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January 23, 2023 · 11:30 am

Mexican Refugees, 1875

January 8, 1875:  “Today we received the sad intelligence that our dear Sisters are to be driven from their homes in Mexico by a Godless government.  Not less two hundred and fifty of them torn from the poor, the sick and the dear orphans.”

-Provincial Annals, Province of the United States

The Daughters’ Archive details a number of dramatic events in national and international history alongside those of the Community.  In 1875, international and Community history collided in the Restored Mexican Republic and made refugees of the Daughters of Charity themselves.  Their American sisters took them in and provided them with the chance to maintain their lives and vocations.

Since 1857, Mexico had been a Republic with no official religion.  After a brief intervention by the French Empire and the defeat of Emperor Maximilian in 1867, the republican nature of the country was restored.  Attempts to seize land of those who had collaborated with Maximilian, however, led to protests and uprisings in the years afterward.  Among those considered allied with Maximilian was the Catholic Church. 

In 1875, President Lerdo seized the property of the Daughters of Charity in Mexico under the Law for the Nationalization of Ecclesiastical Properties. Over 400 Daughters were deported, most of them citizens of Mexico.  Most notably among the institutions the Daughters were forced to abandon were the hospitals of the capital city, and their departure saw crowds turn up and weep on the fateful day they left.  About 80 Daughters came to the United States, with others going to Spain and France.

Much of the correspondence between the American Visitatrix – Sister Euphemia Blenkinsop – and her counterpart in Mexico has been lost.  The Provincial Annals provide the most detailed dates of the arrival of the Sisters to the U.S., with the first group of 21 sisters having arrived in New Orleans on February 2 and the second group of 45 arriving in San Francisco on February 19.  Based on the surviving letter of February 5, this was not exactly in the plan, as Mother Blenkinsop asked that “the greater number…be sent by New Orleans.” 

Sister Ignatia Bruce described the arrival in San Francisco, where the Daughters on mission there, along with about one hundred students of their schools, went to see and show how to welcome refugees:

In compliance with the Archbishop’s wish, we, with about one hundred of the larger day scholars went to meet them.  We were on the wharf nearly an hour before the steamer made its appearance.  By special request several officers were on the spot to see that everything was attended to.  They were indeed very kind and had everything taken out of the way, so the children might stand just where the steamer would land.

Letter from Archbishop Alemany of San Francisco

Sister Ignatia went on to describe the comedic scene that took place as everyone present ran against the language barrier, as the Daughters from Mexico did not speak English.  They did, however, have carriages arranged, which took them to the School in order to give the Mexican sisters their first meal on shore and to make sure they had warm clothes for the San Francisco cold.  With only two of the American sisters present speaking Spanish, they found that they easiest way to communicate was sign language: 

Meantime the Sisters were getting acquainted with each other.  None of the Mexicans understood one word of English and of the Californians but two spoke Spanish.  But some of them had a smattering of the language and though they might count the words they knew, even so much was not to be lost.  And then, some three or four had acquired a slight knowledge of the language of Deaf-mutes.  This was brought into service too, and as the signs were of the simplest nature they were intelligible to all.  Laughable mistakes were sometimes made.  One of the California Sisters for instance sympathetically inquired “if they were married?” instead of “if they were tired,” the words of the Spanish being similar.  But, their gentle courtesy understood the proper question and graciously answered “No.”

Sister Candida Brennan at St. Simeon’s School in New Orleans offered her own account of the arrival of the refugee Daughters there:

Ere this arrives you will have heard that our dear Mexican Sisters, twenty two in number, are with us.  Mother, Sisters Agnes Slavin, Andrea Gibbs and myself went as far as Algiers to meet them yesterday evening.  The train arrived at four o’clock p.m.  The last car contained the long expected guests.  When they caught sight of our cornettes they nearly jumped out of the cars.  Then, such a silent conversation!  The eyes spoke what the tongue refused to utter.  Sister was able to speak some Spanish and I said all the Spanish words I knew regardless of sense or connection, so between us, we made them feel quite welcome.  Of all the sights you ever saw, none surpassed them!  They had worn their cornettes for three weeks, through all kinds of weather and in all places.  Their blue aprons were patched, pieced and padded with all the shades of blue that ever born the name.  Their shawls were not only unlike, but of all colors white, black, grey and I think one was yellow.  As to the bundles, bags, band boxes, tin cans, baskets, you can forme no idea, some of which were so heavy that it required two Sisters to carry one of them. 

Many of the foreign Daughters were missioned to Paris or to Panama by mid-summer of 1875.  A few stayed around for a few more years serving in some of the missions in California.  In 1880, Sister Carlota Gazea wrote back to the United States from Panama:

I have kept silence a long time, but it was only the month that ceased to speak for want of time, but my heart is always full of gratitude towards you and I have you all present in my poor prayers.  You know my dear Sister, the confidence I always have had in you, and that I have chosen you to be my interpreter with our esteemed Mother Euphemia, and as the principal object of my letter is to wish her a happy feast.  I beg you to do it for me choosing the most affectionate and energetic words of the English language and all that your loving and grateful heart may dictate to you. 

Four sisters served in California until 1880 when they were missioned to Ecuador.  In 1882, the last sisters who had been exiled were missioned to El Salvador.  They, too, wrote in their gratitude for their American sisters’ fulfillment of the demand to help those in need and in exile.

Our colleagues at the Archives of the Province of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton in Los Altos, CA have their own accounts of this event in their collections.  They recently posted some of them here.

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