MedChi and the National Anthem

Most people don't know that September 14 is a special day in American History: It was the date in 1814 that the British bombed Baltimore for 25 hours, but the city stood, and so did the nation. It was also the day that our country’s National Anthem was written.

Most people also don't know that one of the Medical & Chirurgical Faculty’s founding members had an essential role in it. William Beanes, M.D. is a name that should be more well-known than it is, but we are working to correct that and give him the recognition that he deserves.

Here is the story: 

The Medical & Chirurgical Faculty of Maryland was founded in 1799, just years after our country was born. Many of MedChi’s early members had fought in the American Revolution, and were prepared to fight again in the War of 1812, and in the Battles of North Point and Baltimore, which took place in September of 1814.

Fort McHenry, which was defended during the Battle of Baltimore, was named after another of MedChi’s earliest members, James McHenry. However, it is one of our founding members, William Beanes, M.D. of Prince George’s County, Maryland, who played a pivotal, yet largely unknown, role in the history of our National Anthem, The Star-Spangled Banner.

If not for Dr. Beanes, Francis Scott Key would not have been on a ship in Baltimore’s Harbor, and he would never have written the poem which became our National Anthem.

William Beanes was born at Brooke Ridge, a thousand-acre farm near Croome in Prince George's County, on January 24, 1749.

There were no medical schools when Dr. Beanes studied medicine, so he most likely apprenticed with a local physician. Professionally, his reputation spread beyond the county, and in 1799, when the Medical and Chirurgical Faculty of Maryland was established, he was one of its founders and a member of its first examining board.

As the War of 1812 raged, in August of 1814, the British Army sailed up the Potomac River, planning to burn the young nation’s capital, Washington, to the ground. Some of the army marched up the banks of the Patuxent and Potomac Rivers, and through Upper Marlborough, where Dr. Beanes lived.

British General Ross selected Dr. Beanes’ home as his headquarters, and Dr. Beanes agreed not to object to his presence or cause the troops harm. Because Beanes chose not to fight against the occupation of his home, he was believed to be sympathetic to the British cause. Unbeknownst to the British, however, because it was feared that the British would burn the capital city of Annapolis, Dr. Beanes had secretly hidden Maryland state records on his property for safekeeping.

However, when the British Army returned to Upper Marlborough after burning Washington, they were jubilant, drunk and marauding. Dr. Beanes and some of his neighbors were forced to arrest some of the most badly behaved of the group. One prisoner escaped and reported to General Ross that Dr. Beanes had taken some prisoners.

General Ross returned to Upper Marlborough and arrested Dr. Beanes in the middle of the night. There was great outrage at Dr. Beanes’ arrest, and for the “great rudeness and indignity heaped upon a respectable and aged old man.” Dr. Beanes travelled with the British Army down the Potomac River and up the Chesapeake Bay, as the British prepared to burn Baltimore, “a nest of pirates”, as they had done to Washington.

At the same time, a young lawyer named Francis Scott Key, a nephew of MedChi’s first President, Upton Scott, was engaged to free Dr. Beanes from the British Army. Key travelled to Baltimore with letters of support from President James Madison, as well as letters from British prisoners whose injuries Dr. Beanes had treated only weeks earlier in Upper Marlborough.

Dr. Beanes was being held on the Minden, a truce ship in the waters just south of Baltimore, and Key sailed out to the Minden to negotiate for his release. While Key was negotiating with the British, the Battle of Baltimore was beginning. For more than 25 hours the battle raged, and bombs rained down on Fort McHenry from the British ships moored in the Patapsco River.

Dr. Beanes and Francis Scott Key watched and waited all through the night. As long as bombs were being shot back from the Fort, the men knew that all was not lost and the Fort still stood. Towards the morning, the cannon fire slowed and then stopped, followed by an ominous silence from across the water. Both men were gripped by hope and fear. Was the Fort lost to the British and would Baltimore suffer as Washington had, just weeks earlier?

As the dawn broke, Francis Scott Key and Dr. Beanes were able to see that the flag was still there, flying above Fort McHenry. They knew that the British had not been able to capture Baltimore.

As the men sailed back to Baltimore, Francis Scott Key penned the now famous poem on the back of an envelope. It was printed in a local paper and then set to the tune of an old drinking song, To Anacreon In Heaven.

The Francis Scott Key Fountain in Bolton Hill, Baltimore

Dr. Beanes returned to his home, Academy Hill in Upper Marlborough, and continued to practice medicine. He died at age 80 in October of 1828. Dr. Beanes is buried in a small graveyard in Upper Marlborough, and is remembered throughout Prince George’s county where several roads, schools and parks bear his name, and continue to tell his story.

In 1914, MedChi placed a bronze plaque at the gates to the graveyard. In October 2013, MedChi President, Russell Wright, MD, participated in a ceremony at the gravesite where the Daughters of the War of 1812 placed a new plaque detailing Dr. Beanes’ role in the Star-Spangled Banner.

Carroll County Farm Museum

A few months ago, I got an email from the curator at the Carroll County Farm Museum telling me that they had found a number of items that had been loaned by MedChi in 1962. 

In late August, I made the trek up to Westminster to see what we had lent to them. They knew what items had been ours because of our unusual identification system - acquisition numbers painted in red nail polish. 

By Maryland law, after this much time has passed, legally, the Farm Museum now owns everything we lent them, but mostly, I was interested to see what they had. 

Almost everything had a note attached to it that the item had been donated by physicians from Carroll County.  

As we went through the items, one of us checked our Medical Annals of Maryland to see if we could find out about the donor, and another checked Google to see if we could figure out what the item was, as everything was not marked.

This was one of my favorite pieces, and if I could have snuck it out in my bag, I would have. It is a late 1800's inhaler for anesthesia or ether. It was a beautifully made English transferware piece, which I collect. 

There were several other inhalers, but they weren't nearly as glamorous! This is called Gwathmey's Gas Ether Inhaler. You can see where the bottom parts fits over your mouth and nose. 

Honestly, I hadn't been to the Carroll County Farm Museum for decades, so it was fun to visit again! 

Camp Seyon

A few weeks ago, I received an email from someone in Vermont whose family had owned the property that was Marcia Noyes' Camp Seyon (Noyes in reverse) on Lake George. 

Marcia ran a summer camp for girls for a number of years, finally selling the property in the 1930s. We have old advertisements for the camp, recruiting both counselors and campers. 

At first, the only building housed the kitchen with its huge, wood burning, cast iron stove and the great room with floor to ceiling book shelves, used principally as a dining hall for the girl's camp that had existed there since the turn of the century.

From an article about the property I found online: 

The girls slept on narrow, World War I army cots in large canvas tents rigged on wooden platforms.  Marcia Noyes (Seyon is Noyes spelled backward), who ran the camp, was an internationally known medical librarian at Johns Hopkins University the Medical & Chirurgical Faculty of Maryland.

Johns Hopkins The Faculty provided her a penthouse apartment in Maryland and the Medical Librarians Association still gives out a yearly award in her honor. But Miss Noyes' summers were dedicated to the camp and her girls. Marcia had the Main House floated down from an island in the Narrows on a barge as the Camp was, then, a virtual island. A boggy path led across the isthmus to the peninsula but vehicles were left on the mainland.

After she sold the Camp, it seemed to remain in one family for several generations. When they finally sold it in the early 2000s, they kept a lot of things from the property. Among the items were some pieces from the Camp Seyon years. 

As one of the descendants was going through the papers, etc. he realized that they should be with Marcia's documents at MedChi, and not with the family, so he kindly sent them to us!

There were numerous ink printings of various ferns from the property, along with the scientific names and descriptions, all in Marcia's handwriting.

Additionally, there were some notes and letters, plus catalogues of various camping supplies. 

Here are some more pieces which were in the box.

We greatly appreciate the family's foresight in making sure that we received the documents from Camp Seyon, and they weren't just thrown away.

Wooden German Doctors

One of our generous donors gave us a set of hand-carved wooden German physicians. 

Each figure has a hand-written description of what type of doctor the figure represents, and some of the tools of the trade. Below is an ophthalmologist in one of our display shelves with some early 20th century ophthalmology tools.

The figures are displayed in our Krause Room, and are in shelves with some of our historic German medical books. In the image below, you can see on the left side, the figure in the rust apron and his specialty is listed as "chirurg" and behind him, a German book on surgery.

The next time you're in the building, stop by and take a look at them. They are so charming!

The figures are from the collection of Dr. John H. Talbott, Sr. who was among other things, the Editor of JAMA and a very important researcher on topics (during WWII) such as climate and its effects on soldiers, and later he was among those researchers who discovered colchicine, the first effective treatment for Gout. 

From Dr. Talbott's obituary in the New York Times on October 13, 1990:

Dr. John Harold Talbott, Sr. a researcher, educator and author, died Wednesday at a care community where he lived in Delray Beach, Fla. He was 88 years old and died of lymphoma, said his son, Dr. John A. Talbott of Baltimore.

Dr. Talbott wrote 12 books and hundreds of articles and was former editor of the Journal of the American Medical Association and the former director of scientific publications of the American Medical Association. He was also an editor of the Merck Manual and of his own journal, ''Seminars in Arthritis and Rheumatism.''

A 1929 graduate of Harvard University Medical School, Dr. Talbott did his internship at Columbia-Presbyterian Medical Center. From 1930 to 1940 he was affiliated with Massachusetts General Hospital and Harvard Medical School in Boston. In these years, he worked for the Harvard Fatigue Laboratory, where he did research on the physiological effects of exposure to high altitudes. He also did research on gout and arthritis.

In World War II, he was director of the Army Climatic Research Laboratories in Lawrence, Mass., where he studied environmental stress on soldiers produced by exposure to extreme temperatures.

He then spent 13 years at the University of Buffalo Medical School and at Buffalo General Hospital as a professor and chief of medicine. In 1959 he was named editor of the A.M.A. journal and remained there for 12 years. As editor, he was criticized by the Department of Health, Education and Welfare for issuing warnings on possible cancer-causing effects of smoking or food additives, calling them premature or without sufficient evidence. In 1971 he moved to Florida to serve as a professor of medicine at the University of Miami.

We are so delighted to have these wonderful figures as part of our collection!

The Details

As I mentioned, I recently acquired a drone! My drone's name is Daisy Drone because the blades of the motor look like daisy petals.

I had an opportunity to fly it outside our 1898 building to see the details a week or so ago. The building's details are brownstone, and 125+ years worth of being on a busy street has caused a lot of deterioration and discoloration. 

Droning On...

After wanting a drone for ages, I finally got one... and promptly flew it into the woods up at my friends' farm. Luckily, I had insurance on it, and got another one. But then, another friend was selling his, which was WAY easier to use than my original one, so I bought that and returned the replacement! 

Whew!

You might be asking what this might have to do with this History of Medicine blog, so I will tell you! There are artworks, busts, and other items that are out of my reach. I can't get a good "head on" view of these items to get a good identification for them. 

Sending a drone up, even ten feet or so, gets me at eye-level with the art work. Two of our busts are in the Krause Room, above the bookcases. Last year, I finally identified two of the bronze busts, but the only photos I got were from the ground (or my eye level) looking up.

Using my drone, whose name is Daisy Drone by the way, I took photos of the busts at eye level. 

Stay tuned for more drone photos, and me seeing what I can do with my new toy tool.

Marcia Crocker Noyes: The Librarian Who Never Left

I am so pleased to announce the publication of "Marcia Crocker Noyes: The Librarian Who Never Left," a biography of our librarian of 50 years.

Marcia was hired by Dr. William Osler in 1896 to be the first trained librarian for the Faculty, as it was then known. She was required to live and work on the premises, so that if a physician needed a book in the middle of the night, she could get it out of the stacks.

When we built our current building in 1909, she was highly involved in the design of it, as it was also to become her home. Marcia died in 1946 and her funeral was held in Osler Hall, a fitting testimony to her long friendship with Dr. Osler.

Of course, we've all heard stories about how she's never left the building. In fact, in her latter years, she mentioned that she would stay away for a few days, and then come back to haint (haunt) the building. And indeed, she has!

The book is available in two formats: an 80-page soft-cover edition for $30.00, and a digital format for $5.00. The funds raised by the sale of the book will be used to support the MedChi archives. 

To purchase the book in either format, either scan or click the QR code below. 

I hope that you will enjoy reading the book as much as I did researching and writing it!