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Take Care of Him and I will repay Thee: A Luxurious Philadelphia Asylum

PhillyHistoryTeam — Thu, 03 May 2007 12:00:00 GMT

By Spencer Willig

Since the establishment of Pennsylvania Hospital at 8th and Pine Streets "to care for the sick-poor of the Province and for the reception and care of lunaticks," Philadelphia was a leading center of psychiatric care. The city is, after all, the birthplace of Declaration of Independence signer Benjamin Rush, widely regarded as the father of American psychiatry.

Rush's belief that mental illness should "be freed from moral stigma, and be treated with medicine rather than moralizing" was reflected in his colleagues' work at the nation's first hospital. Founded by Dr. Thomas Bond and his close friend Benjamin Franklin, Pennsylvania Hospital was the first in America to treat insanity as a disease and the insane as potentially curable patients. While better-off, indigent and criminal mental patients were traditionally cared for - or, rather, stored - with relatives, in poorhouses or in prisons, respectively, those admitted to Franklin's hospital at least had the potential to receive regular, professional medical care.

Yet as the number of insane patients grew to the point that the mentally ill made up the majority of the hospital's population by the early 19th century, conditions worsened. Insane patients regarded as more violent or dangerous were kept restrained in cells in the hospitals basement, where most of their contact was not with medical staff but a 'cell-keeper.' Others were housed with sane patients, provoking complaints and putting pressure on the hospital to make new arrangements.

An expansion of the hospital's west wing allowed the insane to be segregated from the physically ill for a time. But by 1832, the hospital administration had decided that an entirely separate satellite campus ought to "be provided for our Insane patients with ample space for their proper seclusion, classification and employment." Pennsylvania Hospital duly acquired an 111 acre farm far from the main downtown location and began construction. On December 16th, 1841, the Pennsylvania Hospital for the Insane opened its doors. For hours and hours that day, a carriage traveled back and forth from 8th Street to the location on 44th between Market and Haverford Streets, transporting about 100 patients to their new West Philadelphia home.

According to many accounts, it wasn't a bad place to live. The hospital grounds took up about 41 acres - surrounded by a ten and a half foot high wall - leaving the balance of the enormous campus to be used for "asylum pleasure grounds" and a small working farm. An engraving from Report of the Pennsylvania Hospital for the Insane for 1845 shows a sprawling 3 story complex with two massive wings extending from a dome-topped central building, as men in top hats and tails and women in long dresses wander the manicured grounds.

A typical day for an asylum patient would include at least one 20 minute walk in the morning, followed by a visit to the on-site museum, library or billiard room. There was also a "pleasure railroad" on the grounds, apparently an enormous model train patients could ride. Lunch was served at 12:30, follwed by afternoon activities until 6:00, a light evening meal, and entertainment in the hospital auditorium. Though "magic lantern shows" of illuminated slides projected onto a screen were especially popular, patients also enjoyed lectures and musical acts, including, on at least one occasion, a performance by trained singing canaries. The institution's doctors then made evening rounds before lights-out at 10:00. Bible classes and religious services were held on Sundays and were reportedly very well-attended, possibly as patients were rewarded for their presence and good behavior with gingerbread.

There were no restraints or straitjackets; patients were merely expected to behave themselves and, when they did not, were corrected with "nonviolent but firm resistance."

Patients committed to the hospital owed their treatment to the institution's famous superintendent, Dr. Thomas Story Kirkbride. An expert in asylum design, Kirkbride was trained as a surgeon but refocused on the care of the mentally ill early on, being hired to run the brand-new Hospital for the Insane at the age of 31. Kirkbride's impact was such that the hospital he ran, as well as many he designed, became known simply as "Kirkbride's."

While the gentle treatment patients received were in line with Kirkbride's medical philosophy, their fairly lavish surroundings reflected his skills as an administrator and fund-raiser. Recognizing that wealthier patients paid in a disproportionate amount of the hospital's revenues, Kirkbride had his institution cater to their desires. Those who could pay could have large private apartments, fine clothes and furniture and anything else their families might want to provide for them that Kirkbride's staff agreed would not harm them. The hospital even built a private Italianate "cottage" on its grounds for one wealthy patient. Working-class patients, meanwhile, were encouraged to work. Male patients were directed to the asylum farm, while females were put to work in the kitchen. Though not unusual for its time, these internal class divisions between patients whose families could afford to pay extra for their care and those who couldn't puts an interesting spin on the Biblical inscription on the Pennsylvania Hospital seal: "Take Care of Him and I will repay Thee."

In any case, life at Kirkbride's was not always calm, nor was the hospital entirely free of scandal. Shortly after it opened, the hospital proved to be infested with rodents and vermin - though Kirkbride's expertise as an asylum-planner later became famous nationwide, he had not had the opportunity to have any part in the planning of his own hospital. Thus, an embarrassing incident in 1850 saw a recently deceased patient nibbled on before being brought to the morgue. As Kirkbride explained, "a portion of the cartilage of his nose had been destroyed, how they were unable to day, but it is supposed by a mouse or a rat."

The superintendent was also periodically attacked in the press for knowingly committing sane people, a charge he vehemently denied. Occasionally his own patients had other ideas about their treatment as well. One escapee, a young man named Wiley Williams who had been committed by his family as a dangerous eccentric, managed to shoot Kirkbride in the head by lying in wait for him in a tree. Kirkbride survived with a scratch - the bullet was apparently deflected by his thick hat - while Williams spent the rest of his life classified as a criminal lunatic in Eastern State Penitentiary, from which he sent his former doctor long, apologetic letters.

Kirkbride died of pneumonia in 1883, after a lifetime of treating the mentally ill. His hospital lasted more than a century after his death. The city moved the campus moved a few blocks west to make room for the expanding Market Street subway line in late 1950's, around which time the hospital changed its name to The Institute of Pennsylvania Hospital. The asylum closed its doors in 1997, sending its psychiatric care operation back across the river to the 8th Street campus after over 150 years in West Philadelphia. Today, some remaining hospital buildings are used as a social services center, while the rest of the original campus has been redeveloped. A housing project and the enormous office building built by the Provident Mutual Insurance Company now occupy the space where Kirkbride's patients once strolled, rested and - in about half of their cases - healed.

References:

Board of Public Charities of Pennsylvania. To the Legislature: A Plea for the Insane in the Prisons and Poor-Houses of Pennsylvania. A.C. Bryson & Co., Steam-Power Printers, Philadelphia, 1873.

Bond, Earl D. Dr. Kirkbride and his Mental Hospital. J.B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia, 1947.

Kirkbride, Thomas S. On the Construction, Organization and General Arrangements of Hospitals for the Insane with Some Remarks on Insanity and its Treatment. J.B. Lippincott & Co., Philadelphia 1880.

Tomes, Nancy. A generous confidence: Thomas Story Kirkbride and the art of asylum-keeping, 1840-1883. Cambridge University Press, 1984.

"Dr. Benjamin Rush: patriot and father of American psychiatry." Medical Post January 14 1997.

"Kirkbride's Hospital Also Known as Institute of Pennsylvania Hospital Placed on the National Register of Historic Places July 24, 1975." http://www.uchs.net/HistoricDistricts/kirkbride.html

"History of Pennsylvania Hospital" http://www.uphs.upenn.edu/paharc/

The Life of the Schuylkill: Part Two

PhillyHistoryTeam — Thu, 05 Apr 2007 12:00:00 GMT

By Spencer Willig

Jaundice. Vomiting. Kidney failure. Bleeding from the mouth, eyes, nose and stomach. Death.

Many Philadelphians today would probably not have a hard time believing that the list above is a catalogue of consequences one might reasonably expect to suffer after drinking out of the river. Yet it was precisely these agonies - the agonies of yellow fever - from which Philadelphia depended on the Schuylkill for protection at the turn of the 19th century.

Convinced that the city's filthy drinking water was behind a series of yellow fever epidemics that killed a quarter of the population of the city in the 1790's, Philadelphia launched an ambitious program of water management that culminated in the building of the Fairmount Waterworks. The Waterworks were unquestionably a technological marvel of their time, becoming the second most visited American tourist attraction after Niagara Falls. Yet the whole project had been based on the mistaken notion - advanced by, among others, Declaration of Independence signer Dr. Benjamin Rush - that yellow fever was spread by contaminated drinking water. Piping in relatively clean water from the Schuylkill did improve the city's health, but it did nothing to eliminate the mosquitoes that spread yellow fever. What's more, the excellent water system intended to safeguard the health of the city would contribute to the death toll in the next great epidemic: typhoid.

In the 1890s, a century after the yellow fever epidemics - and Franklin's bequest to the city for a public water system - Philadelphia endured some of the worst typhoid outbreaks in the country. Business had been good during the Civil War, and the factories, slaughterhouses and coal mining operations that drove eastern Pennsylvania's economy were dumping their waste directly into the river out of which Philadelphians downstream drank. Coursing throughout Philadelphia in a distribution system that was the pride of the city, the contaminated water spread disease and death. Poor sanitation in the city itself compounded the problem, as the river was used simultaneously as a sewer and a source of drinking water.

As reported in the Boston Medical and Surgical Journal in 1883, Schuylkill water was so bad by the late 19th century that "...a physician offered $50 to anyone who would drink a quart of it ten nights in a row. Each evening, the doomed man comes on stage, the stipulated amount of water is brought out and he takes the draught to slow music before a sympathetic audience. It is the agreement that if he vomits or dies, he will lose the prize."

A river of "uncommon purity" a century earlier, the Schuylkill became a dead river in which not even bacteria could live happily. So black with coal its surface would not reflect the sun, the river was also known to run red from the offal of the slaughterhouses, to say nothing of the rainbow of colors contributed by industrial dyes. As late as 1924, the river reminded local activists of Moses' Ten Plagues, Philadelphia apparently having been cursed "as the land of Egypt was cursed by God at the mouth of Aaron."

Nevertheless, Philadelphia's reputation for especially disgusting water persisted for decades. Navy pilots stationed around the city during World War II claimed they could navigate around Philadelphia by smell, while a cartoon in Stars and Stripes demonstrated how far word had spread about the city's water. The picture shows a group of GIs looking on as one of their fellow soldiers drinks directly from a murky jungle swamp. "That guy's from Philadelphia," the caption reads. "He can drink anything."

References:

The Philadelphia Water Department. The Philadelphia Water Department: An Historical Perspective,, 1987.

The Philadelphia Water Department, in collaboration with Hal Kirn and Associates and Rocky Collins.The River and the City: Script for a Film, 1994.

"View of the practicability and means of supplying the city of Philadelphia with wholesome water." In a letter to John Miller, Esquire, from B. Henry Latrobe, engineer. December 29th. 1798. Printed by order of the Corporation of Philadelphia. (Accessed via American Antiquarian Society and NewsBank, inc. Early American Imprints, Series I: Evans Readex Digital Collections).

Lonkevich, Susan "Rebirth on the River" The Pennsylvania Gazette. Jan/Feb, 2000.

See also, http://www.fairmountwaterworks.org

See also, http://www.phillyh2o.org

The Life of the Schuylkill: Part One

PhillyHistoryTeam — Fri, 30 Mar 2007 12:00:00 GMT

By Spencer Willig

The Schuylkill is not an unattractive river. Reflections of the illuminated arches of the bridges above it gleam on its dark surface at night, while the lights of Boathouse Row have given commuters on I-76 and Amtrak and Septa passengers something to enjoy as they speed past. The Fairmount Waterworks, newly restored and featuring a high-end restaurant and high-tech museum, has been attracting locals and tourists alike for almost 200 years. Many Philadelphians spend hours on and around the river, jogging, fishing, boating and relaxing.

But how many would drink straight out of it?

When William Penn drew up Philadelphia's grid and decided where to site the city in the late 1600's, he did so with a careful eye to water resources. Nestled at the closest point between two rivers, Philadelphia was intended to become a green city of lush parks and wide avenues - everything overbuilt, dingy, plague-infested and fire-prone London was not.

Yet as the city grew into the second largest English-speaking city in the world in the eighteenth century, the groundwater Philadelphians had been drinking from wells and streams became deadly. By the time Benjamin Franklin bequeathed 1,000 pounds to the city after his death in 1790 to "insure the health, comfort and preservation of the citizens" by managing the water supply, Philadelphia was on the verge of a series of fever epidemics. A quarter of the population of the city would die, while half of Philadelphians - the wealthier half - moved out into the safety of the surrounding countryside. The cause, according to eminent Philadelphia physician Benjamin Rush, was sewage leaked into the city's underground wells and the general filthiness of the city.

Even before disaster struck, Philadelphians avoided drinking the water when they could, preferring beer, wine or spirits. Apparently this was the foundation of a local joke explaining why the Continental Congress only held meetings early in the day - by afternoon, after a thirsty morning's work, the founding fathers were unfit for much other than reeling home to sleep it off.

Fortunately, the city had a river in reserve. Philadelphia's growth had not gone at all according to Penn's plan, hugging the Delaware instead of filling out the grid and leaving the Schuylkill and the land to the west relatively untouched. The city government formed a special Watering Committee to examine the possibility of building a conduit to the Schuylkill or Wissahickon Creek. According to B. H. Latrobe, the engineer tasked with finding a safe water supply and getting it to the city, the Schuylkill was remarkably fresh. Latrobe reported back that "In favor of the Schuylkill: The Principal circumstance is the uncommon purity of its water" and devised an innovative plan to pump the water out using massive steam engines.

The plan went forward - at a time when there were only three steam engines of the size required in America - and a pumping station was built on the Schuylkill at Chestnut Street, which fed water from the river to a 16,000 gallon tank in Center Square, where City Hall is today. It then naturally flowed down from this massive water tower to the rest of the city via a network of underground wooden pipes. Philadelphians were then invited to pay a fee to be connected to the water system. Subscribers - initially mostly businesses like tanneries and breweries - soon numbered in the hundreds.

Already on the cutting-edge of contemporary technology, Philadelphia"s water system then got even better. Frustrated with the expense of fueling the steam engines and the constant breakdowns - and explosions - that plagued the pumping stations, the Watering Committee converted the two-engine Fairmount Waterworks into a water-powered, self-supporting technological wonder.

The job fell to Frederick Graff, one of Latrobe's former assistants. Graff executed one of the most successful public works projects of the era with only a few drawings - there were no similar designs that could be copied and no models or prototypes were made. The Schuylkill is a wide, deep, flood and ice-prone river, a nightmare for engineers of the time to tame, dam and harness. Graff did it, housing his machinery in graceful Greek-revival buildings as Latrobe had done with the pumping stations. A technical and aesthetic triumph, the shift to water-power slashed operating costs from $360 dollars a day to $4.00.

The Fairmount Waterworks' fame spread to Europe, and the image of the Greek temples by the Schuylkill became one of the most reproduced prints of America in travel books. Hotels were built on the opposite bank for visitors - the public was invited to tour the Waterworks from its first day of operation on. Even Charles Dickens, unremittingly harsh in his observations of the United States in his American Notes for General Circulation, had to admit that, during his visit in 1840, Philadelphia was,"most bountifully provided with fresh water, which is showered and jerked about, and turned on, and poured off everywhere. The Water-Works... are no less ornamental than useful, being tastefully laid out as a public garden, and kept in the best and neatest order."

Yet the "golden age" of Philadelphia"s water system was already nearing its close.

Many thanks to the Philadelphia Water Department for their willingness to share valuable information for this blog entry!

References:

The Philadelphia Water Department. The Philadelphia Water Department: An Historical Perspective,, 1987.

The Philadelphia Water Department, in collaboration with Hal Kirn and Associates and Rocky Collins.The River and the City: Script for a Film, 1994.

"View of the practicability and means of supplying the city of Philadelphia with wholesome water." In a letter to John Miller, Esquire, from B. Henry Latrobe, engineer. December 29th. 1798. Printed by order of the Corporation of Philadelphia. (Accessed via American Antiquarian Society and NewsBank, inc. Early American Imprints, Series I: Evans Readex Digital Collections).

See also, http://www.fairmountwaterworks.org/.

Fires, Fights and Benjamin Franklin: Philadelphia's Volunteer Firemen, Part Two

PhillyHistoryTeam — Tue, 27 Feb 2007 15:00:00 GMT

By Spencer Willig

By 1752, there were already eight active fire companies in Philadelphia. That same year, Franklin built on his own achievement by helping to found the Philadelphia Contributionship, the oldest fire insurance company in America. Interestingly, though Franklin modeled his creations after their English counterparts, the American system was fundamentally different. In England, fire brigades were founded and administered by insurance companies, whose properties they protected exclusively. In America, the sequence was reversed. Though Franklin´s Contributionship and the companies that sprung up soon after followed the English practice of issuing their policy holders "fire marks" to display on their homes - many of which are still visible - Philadelphia´s fire companies would respond to any fire in their area, regardless of who insured the premises or if they were insured at all. Whether they responded more zealously to fires at buildings insured by their affiliated insurance companies - which were known to reward the firemen for saving as much of the property as they could - remains an open question.

Yet the atmosphere of selflessness and civic duty was charged with rivalry from the start. No sooner had Franklin´s Union established itself as a positive, respected force in the community than his rival Andrew Bradford, whose American Mercury competed with Franklin´s Gazette and whose violent dislike of his competitor was well known, founded his own fire company, Fellowship, in 1738. Rivalries between fire companies became especially destructive as Philadelphia´s unparalleled municipal water system ushered out the bucket-fed fire engine and ushered in the age of hose. The new equipment took some getting used to - one company records an unfortunate incident where a newly bought hose rotted after being stored in a barrel of dill pickles. But as pressurized fire plugs spread and fire brigades founded corresponding hose companies, things took an unfortunate turn. .

Once attached to a fire plug, a hose company could prevent rival companies from sharing the honor of fighting the fire. Wild races to be the first to connect to the plug - and violent fights to capture or recapture them - naturally ensued. Feuds between companies, as described in the song quoted above, were brutal and sometimes deadly, involving shootouts and, ironically, false alarms and acts of arson. By the mid-19th century, it was widely held that the volunteers were "a reproach to the city." An entire melodramatic novel, "Jerry Pratt´s Progress or Adventures in the Hose House", chronicled how a fresh-faced young country boy lost his morals - and, in a fight between hose companies, his life - after becoming a volunteer fireman. .

Though they remained political powerhouses, reportedly milking the city budget for unnecessary equipment and salaries to a shocking extent, the social makeup of the volunteer companies changed dramatically since the days of Franklin and Washington. Once made up of the city´s elite and professional classes, the companies came to be synonymous with the bare-knuckle politicians of Philadelphia´s infamous political machines. Despite a burst of renewed confidence in the volunteer companies during the Civil War, during which many volunteers gave their lives on the battlefield, the city finally voted to disband the volunteer companies and established a professional municipal department in 1871.

"Here´s health to Benjamin Franklin
And all who revere the name:
To the members of the Franklin Hose
I do allude the same"

("The Franklin Hose Song," c. 1850)

References:

Johnson, Harry M. &quote;The History of British and American Fire Marks." The Journal of Risk and Insurance, Vol. 39, No. 3. (September, 1972), pp. 405-418.

Neilly, Andrew H. The Violent Volunteers: A History of the Volunteer Fire Department of Philadelphia, 1736-1871. University Microfilms, Inc. Ann Arbor, 1959.

The Philadelphia Contributionship for the Insurance of Houses from Loss by Fire. Franklin & Fires: His interest therein and his effort to Protect the Citizens of Philadelphia from Devastation., J.B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia 1906.

Wainwright, Nicholas B. A Philadelphia Story, 1752-1952: The Philadelphia Contributionship., Wm. F. Fell Co. Philadelphia, 1952.

Wainwright, Nicholas B. "Philadelphia's Eighteenth-Century Fire Insurance Companies" Transactions of the American Philosophical Society.,New Ser., Vol. 43, No. 1. (1953), pp. 247-252.

Fires, Fights and Benjamin Franklin: Philadelphia's Volunteer Firemen, Part One

PhillyHistoryTeam — Mon, 26 Feb 2007 15:00:00 GMT

By Spencer Willig

"The alarm of fire being given
Onward we did go
Their house we broke, and their engine took
And beat their members also."

(From "The Franklin Hose Song," c. 1850)

Tracing their roots back to a proud roster of founding fathers and fires fought, the volunteer fire companies that preceded the establishment of the Philadelphia Fire Department combined the best and worst traits of the city they served. Community-minded, innovative and tough, Philadelphia's amateur firemen also earned a reputation for brawling, boozing and bitter rivalry equal to anything ever reported to have happened in the parking lot after an Eagles game.

A rapidly growing city of "about 700 dwelling houses," Philadelphia had no fire service to speak of in the early 18th century. Though bucket brigades had existed in New England since the 1690's, it would be decades before anyone took an organized approach to colonial emergency services. Meanwhile, Philadelphians doubtless looked nervously at the eminently combustible wooden warehouses along the Delaware waterfront, the boiling pitch-cauldrons and glowing forges of nearby shipyards and the pitiful resources the city could muster to protect its citizens.

During a fire, the victim depended on civically-minded neighbors with their own buckets, ladders, rope and hooks, the latter being used both to pull valuables from burning structures and to tear down buildings in the fire's path to keep it from spreading An English fire engine was purchased for the city around 1718 - partly funded through fines collected from a colonial smoking ban enacted against those "presuming to smoke tobacco in the Streets of Philadelphia either by day or night" - but wasn't much of a help; clumsy water-tanks on wheels, engines had to be hauled to the site of the fire, pumped by hand and continuously refilled by bucket chains.

This slow, exhausting process yielded predictably poor results. As reported by Benjamin Franklin in his Pennsylvania Gazette, one particularly destructive blaze in 1730 started on the riverfront and moved quickly into the city, consuming thousands of pounds worth of real estate and goods despite calm winds and generally favorable firefighting conditions.

After writing a series of articles on the subject, Franklin rose to the challenge. On December 7th, 1736, he and four friends founded the Union Fire Company, which survives today as Engine 8 of the Philadelphia Fire Department. One of the oldest organized fire brigades in the United States, the Union saw its ranks quickly filled to the agreed-upon maximum of 30 members. Other companies were founded by latecomers, all, according to one company's records, "the most eminent men in Philadelphia, embracing merchants, physicians, lawyers, clergymen and citizens of wealth and refinement." Indeed, fire company membership was a mark of honor, a sort of proxy social register of city notables from the mayor on down. This seems to have been the case throughout the colonies; George Washington, for example, was a member of his local volunteer fire company in Alexandria, Virginia.

to be continued...

References:

Johnson, Harry M. &quote;The History of British and American Fire Marks." The Journal of Risk and Insurance, Vol. 39, No. 3. (September, 1972), pp. 405-418.

Neilly, Andrew H. The Violent Volunteers: A History of the Volunteer Fire Department of Philadelphia, 1736-1871. University Microfilms, Inc. Ann Arbor, 1959.

The Philadelphia Contributionship for the Insurance of Houses from Loss by Fire. Franklin & Fires: His interest therein and his effort to Protect the Citizens of Philadelphia from Devastation., J.B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia 1906.

Wainwright, Nicholas B. A Philadelphia Story, 1752-1952: The Philadelphia Contributionship., Wm. F. Fell Co. Philadelphia, 1952.

Wainwright, Nicholas B. "Philadelphia's Eighteenth-Century Fire Insurance Companies" Transactions of the American Philosophical Society.,New Ser., Vol. 43, No. 1. (1953), pp. 247-252.

Photography: A Mini-History

PhillyHistoryTeam — Thu, 25 Jan 2007 15:00:00 GMT

By Heather Newlin

1839 was an important year in the history of record-keeping. It was in this year that the first practical form of photography, the Daguerreotype, was invented. Without this invention almost 170 years ago, PhillyHistory.org would not have been possible. Most of the images on this website come from one of three photographic types: the negative, the print, and the digital photograph. The majority of these, however, come from the incredibly large collection of negatives in the city's possession.

Not all photographic negatives, however, were created the same. Over the short history of this medium, there have many different types of both negatives and photographs, especially in the first few decades after 1839 when photography was in its infancy. The first of these forms that could be used in a practical manner, the Daguerreotype, was introduced by Louis Jacques Mande Daguerre.

Although Daguerre's was the first practical method of photography developed, there were successful earlier attempts. For example, in 1826 Nicephore Niepce invented what he called a "heliograph." He took a photograph of his courtyard by exposing a sheet of pewter covered in light sensitive materials, using sunlight as his only light source. However, this process took over 8 hours to complete, making it much less practical to use as a method of record keeping than the much faster Daguerre method. (To read more about Niepce's first photograph, see the Nicephore Niepce website link in the references section of this blog).

Like Niepce's process, the daguerreotype also consisted of an image created on a sheet of metal. In this case the medium was a copper plate coated with silver iodide. Unlike Niepce's process, however, the photograph created was a direct positive image. These photos were the predecessors of the types of images added to PhillyHistory today.

The first negative/positive process was patented the same year as the daguerreotype by William Talbot. This process, or the Calbotype process, created a paper negative which could then produce a positive image (or multiple positive images) by placing the negative in direct contact with light-sensitive paper and exposing the paper to daylight. Slightly less than 20 years later, in 1855, glass negatives were introduced to the United States. These glass negatives were preferable to paper negatives as the image produced was of a much better quality. It was only with the introduction of the glass negative that the negative/positive process of making photographs began to replace direct positive processes such as the daguerreotype.

The earliest glass plate negatives were "wet plate" negatives. They were called "wet plate" because this process required the photographer to coat a plate of glass with light sensitive materials, expose, and develop the photograph all before the coating dried. There was continued experimentation using various materials for emulsions (the emulsion is the layer of light sensitive material that is coated onto a base, for example glass, in which an image is formed when it is exposed to light). Some of the types of emulsions that were tried included albumen (a combination of sodium or ammonium chloride mixed with egg whites) and gelatin.

In the Philadelphia City Archives, the earliest forms of negative we scan for the PhillyHistory website are glass plate negatives. The above photograph, taken in 1894, is an image from one of these glass plate negatives. However, as is evidenced by the cracks visible in some of the other photographs on PhillyHistory, the glass negatives were found to be problematic, mainly because they are so incredibly fragile.

To help alleviate this problem, in 1887 George Eastman introduced cellulose nitrate film. This form of negative consisted of a nitrocellulose base and a gelatin emulsion. It was in use between 1913 and 1950. At the time, this was seen as an improvement over the glass negative, as it was much less fragile than its glass counterparts. However, today archivists have found this negative to be itself fragile as it ages. The nitrocellulose base is notoriously unstable as well as flammable, making it important to transfer the images on these to another medium (as, for example, scanning would accomplish) in order to preserve the information they contain.

Between 1937 and 1956 another film created by the Kodak company, safety film, was widely used. This film was made of cellulose diacetate and was found to be much less of a fire hazard. However, this film too has been found to be somewhat unstable. Over time, the cellulose diacetate shrinks as it deteriorates, causing wrinkles in the layer of emulsion, which does not shrink at the same rate. The photograph to the left is an example of this type of deterioration. In1947, Kodak introduced another type of safety film which is still in use today, which is made of a more stable material, cellulose triacetate.

References:

Nelson, Kenneth E. "A Thumbnail History of the Daguerreotype." The Daguerrian Society, 1996. http://www.daguerre.org/resource/history/history.html (accessed 11 January 2007).

Ritzenthaler, Mary Lynn & Diane Vogt-O'Connor. Photographs: Archival Care and Management. Chicago: Society of American Archivists, 2006.

Speos Paris Photo School. "Invention of Photography." Maison Nicephore Niepce: The Reference Site About the Inventor of Photography. http://www.nicephore-niepce.com/pagus/pagus-inv.html (accessed 11 January 2007).

Photographic Firsts

PhillyHistoryTeam — Wed, 20 Dec 2006 15:00:00 GMT

By Heather Newlin

Philadelphia is famous for many things, including its inventors. Perhaps most famous of these is Ben Franklin. However, another Philadelphia inventor, Joseph Saxton, was responsible for creating one of the first photographs made in America. That photograph was taken in 1839 from the United States Mint (pictured above), where Saxton worked. In it he captured Central High School and a portion of the State Arsenal.

In 1839, photography was in its infancy. The first practical form of photography, the Daguerreotype, had been introduced to the world on January 7 of that same year. Created by Louis Jacques Mandé Daguerre, the Daguerreotype photograph was made when a copper plate coated with silver iodide was exposed to light. The silver iodide darkened when exposed to the light, forming an image after the photograph was developed in mercury vapors.

Saxton made his photograph following Daguerre's published instructions that October. He built a camera using a cigar box and a glass lens, and heated the mercury to develop the picture in an iron spoon. A Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission marker at Juniper and Chestnut Streets stands at the location at which the photograph was taken. The daguerreotype itself is in the possession of the Historical Society of Pennsylvania.

The Daguerreotype, however was a direct positive image. The image it produced was similar to the reflection a person would see when looking into a mirror. Because photography was still in its experimental stages at the time, many other methods for producing photographic images followed the introduction of Daguerre's process. Most notably was the invention of a negative-positive process for making photographs which was first patented by William Talbot in 1841. This invention led to other negative-positive processes which created the glass plate negatives, lantern slides, and film negatives which were used by the City of Philadelphia to make the photographs that are digitized and displayed on PhillyHistory today.

References:

Grundberg, Andy. "History of Photography." Microsoft Encarta Online Encyclopedia. 2006.http://encarta.msn.com/encyclopedia_761575598/ History_of_Photography.html#s62 (accessed 19 December 2006).

PBS Online "The History of Photography." The Wizard of Photography. 2000. http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/amex/eastman/timeline/index.html (accessed 19 December 2006).

Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission. "Oldest Photograph." Historical Markers Program. 25 September 1989. http://www.phmc.state.pa.us/bah/DOH/descriptresults.asp? markertext=photograph&markertextsubmit=Search+by+Keywords. (accessed 19 December 2006).

Rung, Albert M. "Joseph Saxton: Pennsylvania Inventor and Pioneer Photographer." Pennsylvania History 7. (July 1940), 153-158.

Learning for the Real World

PhillyHistoryTeam — Wed, 01 Nov 2006 12:00:00 GMT

By Heather Newlin

Late in the 19th century and early in the 20th, child labor reformers were busy trying to devise a plan for keeping the nations children out of the factories and in the schools for as long as possible. However, the things they were doing to extend the amount of time a child spent in the school system failed to keep all children in school. They wondered why, until the idea was presented that perhaps the children continually left school early because they did not understand the value an education in traditional academic disciplines (writing, math, or foreign language, for example) would have in their everyday lives after they graduated. What good did learning French do for the child who, after all, would be spending his days constructing buildings? From this idea, school administrators devised a plan. Perhaps the way to keep children in school until their teenage years was to offer vocational education, or more classes that prepared students to be successful in the work they would actually face after finishing school.

The idea of vocational, or industrial, education was introduced to Philadelphia by Murrel Dobbins, a member of the Board of Public Education. Soon after his introduction, an investigation was conducted in the city to discover what the most popular trades in the city were and to find a location for a new school. The Philadelphia Trades School then opened in 1906 in an abandoned elementary school at the corner of 12th and Locust Streets. The goal of the school was to create intelligent, skilled young men who were well prepared to enter the workforce upon their graduation.

Originally the school offered 13 trades, ranging from sign painting to sheet metal working. However, due to a lack of enrollment, only seven were offered in the day school. The trades offered to students during the day included: carpentry, architectural drawing, mechanical drawing, electrical construction, pattern making, and printing. Students spent half of their time studying these trades in the shop. The other half was spent studying academic subjects such as English and Mathematics, however these too were taught with the trades in mind. In these courses, teachers attempted to relate the skills being learned to their application in the work of the various trades. In the third year, the students participated in an internship program, working at various locations throughout the city.

Night classes were also offered by the school, and these became more popular than the daytime classes. The demand for the evening classes was so great that the city opened another school, the Northeast Manual Training School, to handle some of the overflow. Many other prospective students remained on a waiting list. In the evening school only the trades were taught. There were no classes for the academic subjects. However, the evening school did offer more trades than were taught during the day

Eventually, the Trades School was abandoned as the workforce continued to change. The courses offered by the Philadelphia Trades School were replaced by mechanical arts courses in Central High School and others.

References:

Ash, William C. "The Philadelphia Trade School." Annals of the American Academy of Political Science 33(1), Industrial Education. (January, 1909) 85-88.

Cohen, Sol. "The Industrial Education Movement, 1906-1917." American Quarterly. 20(1). (Spring, 1968) 95-110.

Neville, Charles E. "Origin and Development of the Public High School in Philadelphia." The School Review. 35(5) (May, 1927) 363-375.

Edmunds, Franklin D. A Chronological List of the Public School Buildings of the City of Philadelphia, PA. Philadelphia: Board of Public Education, 1934.

Natural Healing

PhillyHistoryTeam — Mon, 16 Oct 2006 20:21:48 GMT

By Heather Newlin

In its most recent past, the buildings of the Philadelphia State Hospital at Byberry, pictured here, were in a state of ruin. These ruins, combined with the less than desirable reputation the hospital had come to possess, attracted thrill seekers and urban explorers alike. It was rumored to have been the site of numerous activities ranging from satanic rituals to dance parties complete with DJs. However, all of this changed in 2004 when the site was sold to the Philadelphia Industrial Development Corporation, which intended to use the site for office buildings and housing for the elderly.

The hospital's history was not always so ill regarded, however. It began as Byberry Farm, built in the hometown of Benjamin Rush (1745-1813), who is considered the Father of American Psychiatry. Rush was an advocate of asylums for the mentally ill. He believed that, with proper treatment, they too could be cured of their illnesses. As such, Rush would probably have approved of the farm started in Byberry to treat those with mental problems. Byberry Farm was self-sustaining, as patients did much of the work needed to tend the crops grown there. At the time, gardening was believed to be a cure for "mild cases of lunacy."

Later, the facility was renamed the Philadelphia Hospital for Mental Diseases, although for a time this hospital outside of the city still operated as a work farm. Over time, more buildings were erected to try to solve overcrowding problems that would continually plague the institution. Expansion of the hospital continued into the 1940s. In the end, the hospital would consist of over 50 buildings. It became so large that it was described in a 1946 report to be "among mental institutions, a metropolis."

This metropolis continued to experience problems, however. In addition to overcrowding, the hospital was faced with personnel shortages and deteriorating buildings. There were also accusations of patient abuse, claiming that residents of the institution were not given clothing and were generally not allowed the attention they required. The situation became so bad that on October 15, 1938 the hospital was taken over by the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, at which time it became known as the Philadelphia State Hospital. The site was in such a deteriorated state that it cost over $8 million to rehabilitate. However, the attempts at rehabilitation of the site and expansion to solve overcrowding problems could not overcome its history of mismanagement and patient abuse. In 1990 the hospital was closed permanently, destined to sit as a ruin and site for thrill seekers until its purchase and redevelopment 14 years later.

References:

Pennsylvania State Archives, Department of Public Welfare. "A Pictoral Report on Mental Institutions in Pennsylvania." 1947, pp. 4-9. Accessed online

Bostick, Jim. "Philadelphia Hospital for Mental Diseases, A Photo Series." Gather (12 February 2006) http://www.gather.com/viewArticle.jsp?articleId=281474976729431 (accessed 12 October 2006).

Greenberg, Andy. "Byberry's Long Goodbye." Philadelphia City Paper. 16 March 2006.

Hall, Bolton. "Gardening as a Cure for Mental Breakdowns." The Worlds Work...: A History of Our Time. Doubleday, Page and Company, 1900.

"Philadelphia State Hospital (Byberry)". Opacity (2006). http://www.opacity.us/site10_philadelphia_state_hospital_byberry.htm (accessed 12 October 2006).

Wikipedia. "Benjamin Rush." en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Benjamin_Rush (accessed 12 October 2006).

Keeping the Children Well

PhillyHistoryTeam — Mon, 22 May 2006 12:00:00 GMT

By Heather Newlin

Today we take the school nurse for granted. Whenever a child scrapes his knee at recess or becomes ill and needs to go home early, the nurse is there. However, the school nurse and school medical inspections are, in America, largely a creation of the twentieth century. This photo, taken at the Alexander D. Bache School in 1912, is labeled "Medical Inspection Branch." It dates from the late Progressive Era when the health and welfare of the poor was a matter of growing concern among social workers. For many reformers, efforts aimed toward adults failed to better the situations of poor people, and thus, they shifted their focus away from protecting the health of school children. Progressives believed that they could create a healthier society by maintaining young people's constitutions and by teaching them proper hygiene.

Municipal officials assigned medical inspectors to schools across the country. In 1898, under the supervision of the city's Board of Health, medical inspectors began working in Philadelphia schools. They identified and corrected various defects and contagious diseases occurring among the children. The inspectors also strove to maintain healthy conditions, thus protecting the children from illness and injury, and to maximize the efficiency of the schools. Later, the school nurse was introduced to carry out the recommendations of medical inspectors in caring for youths. In Philadelphia, after examinations by the medical inspector, children of disadvantaged families received access to free vaccinations, and other medical, dental, and vision care.

References:

Cornell, Walter S. Health and Medical Inspection of School Children. Philadelphia: F.A. Davis Company, 1913. (Full text available online.)

Struthers, Lina Rogers. The School Nurse: A Survey of the Duties and Responsibilities of the Nurse in the Maintenance of Health and Physical Perfection and the Prevention of Disease among School Children. New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1917. (Full text available online.)