Pox_ An American History - Michael Willrich [143]
Pfeiffer rose. “Is it not true, doctor,” he began, “that men of science and immense learning have effectually claimed that persons whose bodies are cleanly, sound and generally healthy are protected from smallpox?”
McCollom responded, “No, it is not true, and I do not recollect of hearing any learned or scientific men making any such claim.”
Pfeiffer: “Is it not admitted by eminent physicians and learned men that there are more ills resulting from vaccination than from the disease of smallpox?”
McCollom said he had “never heard a scientific man” say any such thing.
Pfeiffer: “And did not the people of Ohio rise up against vaccination to such an extent that it has been abolished there?” (He was referring to Cleveland health officer Martin Friedrich’s recent decision to suspend wholesale vaccination in favor of disinfection.) Before McCollom could answer, Pfeiffer launched into another question. Then another. The cross-examination went on like this for some time, as Pfeiffer exhibited his famous endurance and McCollom—and the audience—approached the limits of theirs.8
A month later, on January 18, 1902, Pfeiffer wrote to Durgin, seeking permission to visit the smallpox wards at Gallop’s Island “for the purpose of scientifically looking into the disease in all its various forms.” The letter indicated that the two men had already spoken; Durgin had asked Pfeiffer to put his request in writing. To this, the chairman readily assented, waiving the hospital’s strict requirement that all visitors show evidence of recent vaccination. Pfeiffer had not been vaccinated since infancy. Durgin’s dare had a taker after all.9
Many would later question the chairman’s decision. By January 1, city physicians had already vaccinated 185,000 residents; family doctors and other agencies had vaccinated roughly 300,000, for a total of 485,000 in a city of 586,000. That was an exceptionally high vaccination rate (83 percent) for a U.S. city. But Durgin seemed determined to reach that final 17 percent and to strip Boston of its national reputation as “a hot-bed of the anti-vaccine heresy.” That January, under authority of a vaccination order issued by Durgin’s board, city doctors and police canvassed East Boston, South Boston, Charlestown, the North End, and the West End. The antivaccinationists stepped up their efforts, petitioning the Massachusetts General Court with bills to abolish compulsion. Nineteen citizens of Boston were prosecuted for resisting vaccination (including one East Boston father, John H. Mugford, who would fight his case all the way to the state’s Supreme Judicial Court). Meanwhile, the epidemic continued. By late January, nearly 700 Bostonians had been stricken with smallpox; 108 had died. Durgin held the antivaccinationists responsible, and Pfeiffer was their most visible leader.10
On January 23, Pfeiffer toured Gallop’s Island in the company of Dr. Paul Carson, the port physician. Carson, a former Dartmouth football star, instructed Pfeiffer in hospital protocol, helping him don the requisite white gown and cap. The two men walked the wards that housed more than one hundred smallpox-stricken patients, stopping at their grim bedsides so Pfeiffer could examine the disease in its various stages. Pfeiffer complimented his host on the cleanliness of the facility. He remarked that the air lacked the infamous smell of smallpox—an odor one country doctor of the era likened to “a hen-house on a warm April morn.” Carson suggested that Pfeiffer smell a patient’s breath. Pfeiffer leaned in, inhaling deeply. Durgin was not present. But he later told a reporter that he was “glad the suggestion of the breath was made, so that Dr Pfeiffer might be gratified in every conceivable way in his expressed desire.” Arriving at the end of the tour, Pfeiffer returned the robe and cap and, on Carson’s instructions, washed his hands, face, hair, and beard in disinfectant before boarding the boat back to Boston.11
In the days that followed, agents for the board of health kept Pfeiffer