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.

Our Main Staircase

The staircase in our 1909 building is one of its signature design elements. It moves up through our building from the basement to the fourth floor where Marcia's apartment was located. 

On the fourth floor, the stairs are about six feet wide. As you move down through the building, the stairs get wider and wider, causing a funnel-like effect to bring the light through the building. You can get an idea of the size of the openings by the dark spots on the blueprint below. 

There is a skylight at the top of the stairs which we opened several years ago. Read about it here. Opening the skylight made a world of difference to the staircase which had always been very, very dark. 

Each set of stairs is actually three sets, intersected with two landings, as you can see in the image above. From the basement to the third floor, the stairs are Calacatta marble in grey and white pattern. The landings are one-inch by one-inch marble tesserae tiles, surrounded by black marble. 

Originally, there were windows along the south side of the staircase, which would bring in both air and light. When we connected the two buildings, we used that space to add bathrooms and an elevator. You can see that on the blueprint on the right of the first floor.

Because you could suddenly see the whole aspect of the staircase when the skylight was uncovered, we decided to hang some portraits in the stairwell. You can read about it here. 

I recently made a little video about our staircase, which you can watch on YouTube. 

Another Mystery Solved

In our beautiful Krause Room, there are four busts that look down from the trim that surrounds the room and tops the bookcases. They are about ten feet off the ground, and are a bit difficult to see.

But half of that mystery was recently solved, when searching through an 1899 Maryland Medical Journal article about MedChi’s history. In the article, there was an engraving of a bronze bust with the caption as follows: Engraved from bronze bust in possession of Medical & Chirurgical Faculty. Nathan R. Smith, MD of Baltimore, 1797-1877.

Dr. Smith lived in Baltimore and was selected to become the chair of surgery at the University of Maryland in 1827, commencing an eventful, 50-year career. Considered a bold and skillful operator, Smith was known to his students as “The Emperor.” His removal of a goiter from a patient was the first procedure of its kind in Maryland and only the second thyroidectomy in the country. 

Something about the engraving in the article seemed familiar, so I went to the Krause Room to take close-up images of the busts. Once I spent a few minutes comparing the actual bronze to the engraving of the bronze, I realized that that they were the same person: Nathan Ryno Smith, MD. Interestingly, it looks like there are two small repairs on the bust, one on the top of his head and a smaller one on his clavicle.

As I continued to read the article, I realized another image showed the second of the four busts!

It is John D. Buckler, MD (1785-1866) and again, it’s an engraving from a bust in our collection.

He graduated from the University of Maryland in 1817 and was an adjunct professor of anatomy there, as well. This one was a bit easier because the hairstyles are so similar. 

Two down. Two to go!

A Visit to the Historical Collections at the Welch Library

I recently had the opportunity to spend the morning with the Curator of the Historical Collections at the Institute of the History of Medicine at the Welch Library at Hopkins. 

As you arrive at the Library, located on Monument Street, the first thing that you see is a beautiful bronze bust of William Welch, MD in a gorgeous classical niche.

On the second floor, you will find a huge meeting/reading room with the famous John Singer Sargent portrait of the "big four" physicians from the founding days of the hospital: William Welch, William Halsted, William Osler and Howard Kelly. I had never seen the portrait in person and was gob-smacked at the massive size of it. It is about 10x9 feet!

Another portrait in the room is a beautiful painting of Mary Elizabeth Garrett, whose money helped open the medical school, with the condition that it admit women on the same basis as men.

There was also an exhibition of some of the works of Max Brödel, the first professional medical illustrator who worked with Kelly and Halsted, as well as Harvey Cushing. When I recently read a biography of Brödel, it mentioned that he summered on a lake in Canada with Thomas Cullen and some of the other physicians, and one of his hobbies was painting woodland scenes on tree fungi like mushroom conks. It was so fascinating to see some examples of this unique artwork.

One of the more disconcerting things to see was the death masque of Dr. Welch, made just after he died. The detail is incredible. 

The Henry Barton Jacobs Room was oddly reminiscent of the Osler Rooms at McGill University which I had visited several summers ago.

These two rooms were created at about the same time: 1930.

As we moved on, we began looking at some of the rare books in the collection and they were just amazing! One of the books from the 1600s had colored engravings which were so incredibly detailed.

Thinking of the process necessary to accomplish this was truly mind-boggling. 

One of my favorite books was this English-language book from MDCLXXV (1675).

It was literally an anatomical pop-up book, which was hilarious with strategically-placed foliage to shield sensitive eyes.

One of the interesting things about this book was that it included women! Most anatomical books were only illustrated with men. Here are some of my favorite illustrations. 

It was such a great to see these amazing books, and learn about the historic collections!

The Many Faces of Thomas H. Buckler

Thomas Hepburn Buckler was a renaissance man in the mid-1860's. Although he was a physician, his biography in the Medical Annals of Maryland (1799-1899) doesn't have the requisite date of achieving membership at the Faculty. 

Possibly, this is because he was living abroad for a significant amount of time, especially the years of the Civil War. Dr. Buckler was the second husband of Eliza "Didy" Ridgely White (1828-1894), a member of the Ridgely family who owned more than 10,000 acres of land just north of Baltimore, as well as the spectacular Hampton Mansion. 

Dr. Buckler was said to be a man of "striking personal appearance and much sought after on account of his brilliant conversational powers and wit." He and Didy had one son, William Hepburn Buckler, who is remembered as a scholar, lawyer and diplomat. He was born while the Bucklers lived in Paris. 

Over the weekend, I was visiting old churches in Baltimore County with a friend who is researching them and literally stumbled across this tomb-stone. Both father and son are buried at the cemetery at the historic St. Thomas Church in Garrison, Maryland.

Anyway... for all of the time he spent away from Baltimore, and for the fact that he probably wasn't actually a member of the Faculty, we have at least three depictions of him - two oil portraits and one marble bust. 

The most well-known portrait is Julius LeBlanc Stewart's portrait of Buckler. You can read all about the subject and the artist here. This portrait was painted when Buckler lived in Paris between 1866-1890. 

The second portrait is by Louis Dieterich, a Baltimore-based painter. This was probably painted upon Buckler's return to Baltimore, after 1890.

The marble bust is by William Henry Rinehart, a noted sculptor from Baltimore who lived in Rome during the 1870's. The bust is signed and dated 1868, which is handy. 

Additionally, there is a notation in the 1958 catalogue of Rinehart's works of the provenance of this bust, which traces it from TH Buckler to his son, to the Faculty. 

So, I guess my next bit of sleuthing is to search the old medical journals and see when and why we acquired these pieces.

Another Find!

It never fails! I think that I've found all the artworks that are housed here in our buildings, then something else appears.

A few weeks ago, after about three inches of rain in a few hours, one of our roofs leaked. All of the ceiling tiles were sodden and then fell into the offices below. The carpets were soaked and everyone had to move out while drying and repairs were completed. 

Everything from the offices was brought out into Osler Hall and the Founders Hallway. As I was wandering around yesterday, I spotted an unfamiliar face peeking out from behind a pile of files. 

I have no idea who it is, and of course, it's not marked. It seems to be made of fired clay and then glazed, black basalt style. On the bottom, there's a piece of cardboard. 

Initially, I thought it was Ronald Fishbein, MD. But when I looked at photographs of him, I realized that it wasn't. Of course, when I read things a little more closely, I saw it was repaired by Dr. Fishbein in 1998. My guy looks to be late 1800's or early 1900's, given the facial hair and the style of clothing. 

If you have any clues, please let me know!

John Whitridge, MD

We are in the process of conducting a survey of our art collection with the intention of having it re-valued for insurance purposes. We do this every so often, but the years tend to slip by between valuations. 

In my quest to make sure that everything is included in this round, I have been poking in vacant rooms, storage spaces and other places in our vast buildings which are not frequented more than once every few years. Of course, this is the perfect time to do this hunting, since 95% of our offices are not being used.

I've learned to shift boxes and look into closets to check them out. As I searched a storage room, I moved a media trolley, only to see someone staring back at me from the corner. After my heart stopped pounding, I realized it was another marble bust!

I tried to shift him to see if there was any identifying information, but couldn't even budge him an inch. A few days later, we loaded him on a cart and brought him up to my office. He was absolutely filthy!

I ran a Magic Eraser over him a few times, and you can see the result above! Although some of my museum friends freak out about this, I am taking the advice of another museum conservator and being gentle with the whole process. I even brought in Q-tips to clean out his ears. 

Once I cleaned him up a bit, the hunt was on to find out who he was. He was another Rinehart bust, so that narrowed the field greatly. He was sculpted in Rome in 1874.

Armed with those details, I checked the 1948 catalogue raisonné to cross reference the information and see if I could find out who he was.  

Sadly, there isn't too much information on Dr. Whitridge. He was important enough to have his picture in the Library's 100th Anniversary book, but scanning it, there's really no mention of him. 

And he is mentioned in the Annals a few times, mostly as a committee member, and with a very brief biography. 

In 1874, there was an article in the Baltimore Sun talking about the arrival of two busts by Rinehart at the marble salesrooms of Mr. Hugh Sisson, located at 140 West Baltimore Street. 

The bust is really quite handsome, and after it was cleaned up (and the penciled in eyeballs removed!), it turned out to be a lovely piece, in a wonderful luminescent white marble. 

The other piece I found in the Sun was a brief mention of Dr. Whitridge's death and burial in Rhode Island. There is a reference to what was written about him earlier, but I can find no other article. 

Just another little mystery to try and research and unravel!

It's a Bust

We have thousands of square feet of space here at MedChi HQ, and there are nooks and crannies everywhere, some of which I still have not visited. Too scary.

Every so often, someone goes exploring and finds something, and it's usually finders, keepers. Or at least keeping the find in your office. I have my own find hanging on my wall.

This bad boy Edward Harris, who, as far as we can tell, had nothing at all to do with medicine. But he looks like he'd be a lot of trouble fun.

Cathy, MedChi's Chief of Staff, found a bust of a man in one of the storage rooms, and had it taken to her office. He weighs about 100 lbs, and was pretty filthy. She cleaned him up a bit and put him on her wide windowsill. Fast forward to now, and our offices being painted during this quiet time. We had to move the bust, and so I decided it was the perfect time to clean him.

After hoicking him onto a cart, I brought him upstairs to my office and secured him, using a box of brochures to stabilize his base. In the image below, I've cleaned the back of his cloak, but haven't started on his hair. You can really see the difference a good scrub makes!

I did some research on how to clean marble and assembled the components I would need, including warm soapy water, soft cloths and Magic Erasers. 

Four jugs of filthy water later, he began to regain his old good looks. But there were still the creases and folds in his cloak to take care of, so I got out the vacuum cleaner and got rid of all of the debris that had collected there. 

And then discovered that Magic Eraser comes in sheets, which I would use to get the dirt off the marble using chopsticks, the bowl of a plastic spoon and a mechanical pencil (with no lead) to get into the crevices.

And heeding my mother's admonitions, I remembered to clean behind his ears and the back of his neck.

Cleaning was actually the easy part. The harder part was trying to figure out who he actually was.

The bust was signed by W.H. Rinehart, who provided the endowment for the Rinehart School of Sculpture at MICA, our neighbor to the north. It was sculpted in Rome in 1868, as evidenced by the carvings on the base.

So armed with that information, and using the hive-mind that is Facebook, I soon found that the subject was Thomas Hepburn Buckler, whose portrait is in our collection.

You can see similarities, especially around the hairline. The sculpture was done in 1868 when Buckler was 56, and the portrait was painted in 1879, when he was 67. 

Additionally, the sculpture is listed as being in the collection of the Medical & Chirurgical Faculty in an entry in a 1958 catalogue of Rinehart's works. 

That entry pulled everything together and helped us verify the provenance of the bust. It notes that the bust was formerly in the collection (ex-coll) of Thomas H. Buckler, MD, and then in the collection of perhaps, his son, William H. Buckler. And then it moved to the collection of the Medical & Chirurgical Faculty of Maryland... where it still resides.