O Say Can You See?

The history of leprosy

Museums play an important role as gatekeepers to public memory, deciding which events and experiences to preserve so that we may never forget and learn from the past. Considering the enormous effort required to account for human existence in the United States from past to present, choosing which stories and events to publicly display becomes a defining challenge for an institution like the National Museum of American History. For this reason it has been an eye-opening privilege and exciting test to devote my summer work to the often untold story of leprosy in the United States.

Even today, the term “leprosy” commonly inspires biblical references of social outcasts and images of far-off colonies inhabited by disfigured unfortunates, like those depicted in the movie Ben-Hur. Much of the lore surrounding leprosy that stirs such misconceptions still pervades public knowledge in the United States, where the reduced number of people with leprosy as a result of medical advances and government seclusion policies keeps the lived experiences of those who encounter leprosy away from the public sphere. Today, there are an estimated 5,000 people with leprosy in the United States, only a small fraction of the total 15 to 20 million people with leprosy worldwide—the majority of whom are in developing countries such as India, Brazil, Madagascar, and Angola.

The Moloka'i treatment center in Hawaii

The shift to leprosy’s medical name, Hansen’s Disease, began the shift away from the religious and historical stigma attached to leprosy and its affiliation with the derogatory term “leper.” Scientifically substantiated as bacterial disease, Hansen’s Disease recast leprosy as a medical phenomenon, although the disease and those with it still remain highly stigmatized.

Treatment in the United States has centered around two remote facilities: Moloka’i in Hawaii and Carville in Louisiana. Moloka’i was founded in response to the increasing prevalence of leprosy in Hawaii in the 1860s. Pioneered by Hawaiian King Lot Kamehameha V in 1865, “An act to prevent the spread of leprosy” legalized the rounding-up of people with leprosy and institutionalized them in a medical facility at Moloka’i. Under the leadership of Father Damien and the Catholic Church who helped to maintain Moloka’i, people with leprosy were forced to begin new lives in quarantine. The precedent for confinement, mostly fueled by public fears of the disease’s contagious reputation (which was not medically substantiated until recently), did not end until over a century later in 1969 when patients were finally given the right to transfer to other medical facilities for treatment. Today, medical professionals have discovered that approximately 95% of the world’s population is naturally immune to the leprosy-causing bacilli and is in no danger of contracting the disease.

Ladies' dorms at the Carville center in Louisiana

On the United States mainland, the response to leprosy had national implications; in 1921 the federal government purchased the Louisiana Leper Home as a national center for disease containment and isolated care. The instatement of the Federal Marine Hospital #66, a national leprosarium, was unique. The government, under the auspices of the Public Health Service, assumed extensive financial and administrative responsibility to create an institution devoted solely to leprosy’s treatment and containment for the entire continental United States. Only within the last 20 years has Washington returned the Carville center to the State of Louisiana and relocated its research branch—The Gillis W. Long Hansen’s Disease Center—to Baton Rouge, Louisiana.

With relatively few current instances of leprosy in the United States, it can be easy to forget the millions of people who still face the disease everyday across the world. If there is one thing that the history of leprosy treatment in the United States has taught me, it’s that the events and experiences that take place away from earshot, those that we often abstract or forget about, are still realities to others. Museums are powerful tools to remember not only the over-arching medical advances in treatment but also the lived experiences of those who—for better or worse—actually encountered the history we inspect retroactively. Although leprosy’s historical influence has been largely directed by myth and not personal experience, the sheer number of people with the disease in the United States and in the rest of the world marks leprosy as an important collective experience.

To find out more about leprosy and have some commonly asked questions answered, explore the American Leprosy Missions website and see a list of Multi-Drug Therapy Medication Descriptions.

Dan Egol

Dan Egol is a junior at Middlebury College in Vermont where he is a political science major. He is a summer intern in the Division of Medicine and Science.

 

Culture a la Carte: Would you like some Han Dynasty with your meal?

King Dragon menu, New York, NY, 1976.

I recently delved into the museum’s newly acquired menu collection. My focus was a sub-set of the collection: the Chinese menus, which span nearly three decades and come from all over the United States. I was curious to see what the menus could reveal about the history of Chinese food in America. As I perused the collection, I realized that Chinese restaurants don’t simply sell food—they also sell a cultural experience, à la carte.

Historically, many Americans first encountered Chinese cuisine while laboring in mines or on railroads, where Chinese immigrants often worked as cooks. By the late 19th century, increasing numbers of Americans were venturing into Chinatowns in both New York and San Francisco, in search of cheap, tasty meals. Others were drawn to Chinatown for different reasons: Bohemians saw Chinese dining as a sensual and exotic experience, and wealthier patrons sought high-end culinary adventures. Originally established to serve fellow expats, Chinese proprietors saw their business grow as more American customers frequented their establishments.

Timmy Chan menu, Houston, TX, 1971.

The increased interest in Chinatown as a tourist destination coincided with the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 and its ensuing amendments, which suspended Chinese immigration into the United States and restricted opportunities for Chinese immigrants already settled in the country. Realizing that their livelihood depended upon bringing business into Chinatown, proprietors took extra measures to lure more customers: they cleaned up the streets, adopted an Oriental décor for their restaurants, and adjusted their dishes in accordance with the American palate. In other words, Chinatown exaggerated its authenticity to attract more customers. Dishes like egg foo young, chow mein, and chop suey may have proved immensely popular with American diners, but they were, in fact, far from authentic. Ironically, part of the appeal for Americans lay in their belief that they were consuming authentic Chinese cuisine. Chinatown was so popular, that between the years 1870 and 1920, there was a nearly 7,000 percent increase in the number of workers employed by Chinese restaurants.

Chinese New Year at Port Arthur Chinese Restaurant, Chinatown, NY, date unknown. Courtesy of Library of Congress.

In the aftermath of World War II, American policies shifted in tandem with greater tolerance for minority groups. Scholar Madeline Y. Hsu defined this as a shift from “racialization to ethnicization.” As long as Chinese immigrants were considered a “race,” they could never blend into American society, but “ethnicity” was a more fluid concept that blurred the lines. Americans from all walks of life began wanting to experience cultures different from their own.

See in this menu: "an authentic palace setting of dynastic splendor and a showcase for the Empress' interpretation of Chinese cuisine..."

Again, Chinese culture could be packaged, promoted, and sold to customers. The 1950s and 1960s saw a wave of Chinese American entrepreneurs who opened high-end restaurants, among which are two notable San Francisco establishments. Johnny Kan portrayed his eponymous restaurant, which opened its doors in 1953, as authentically Chinese and rooted in the imperial era, and emphasized its cleanliness and quality service. Eight years later, Cecilia Chiang opened The Mandarin, a restaurant elaborately decorated with Oriental artwork, including embroideries allegedly taken from the Peking palace. Again, Chinese restaurants were offering customers something far more than just food. Alongside their meals, diners received a heaping dose of history, culture, and curious claims of authenticity.

With this history in mind, I was not at all surprised to find in our collections a menu from the Empress of China, located in San Francisco. Dating from the mid-1970s, this menu exemplifies how Chinese restaurants package and serve culture, often prioritizing the exotic over the accurate. The Empress of China offered customers cuisine dating from 2674 BC, architectural inspiration from 206 BC, and an artistic impression of a 1238 AD temple shrine. Visitors could travel across space and time to enjoy an “authentic” culinary experience.

Menu describes an artist’s impression of a temple shrine from 1238, The Empress, mid-1970s.

Menu presents cuisine from 2674 BC and architectural inspiration from 206 BC.

Menu describes Manchurian Beef and Phoenix and Dragon as enjoyed by Emperor Ch’ien-lung, and Mongolian Lamb as enjoyed by Kubla Khan.

These Chinese menus in the collection mark an important step toward telling the story of Chinese immigrants in the United States. If you have a story or object that you’d like to share, please use the comments below, or e-mail us at nmahweb@si.edu with the subject “Chinese Food.”

Devora Liss is an intern at the National Museum of American History.

Celebrating National History Day at the museum

Students at the hands-on history carts.

On an evening earlier this month, the museum came alive with the bustle of 5,414 National History Day participants and their proud family members and teachers. As a veteran of the program myself, I had the opportunity not only to relive the experience—though admittedly from the vantage point of an intern at the museum—but to also see how it has evolved since I first participated seven years ago.

National History Day (NHD) is an annual competition for middle and high school students in which participants research a historical topic related to the annual theme and present their conclusions as a paper, performance, documentary, website, or an exhibit. The final stage of a series of contests takes place during a five-day event at the University of Maryland, College Park. This year, a few students showcased their work for an afternoon at the museum, and all participants were invited to tour the museum for an exclusive, after-hours visit. 

Students pose with George Washington.

When I participated in NHD, my peers and I did not have the opportunity to display our exhibits at such a prestigious institution, nor did we have the privilege of an evening at the museum. But the fundamentals had clearly withstood the test of time: the students, hailing from all over the country, came together for five days to showcase their hard work and share their passion for history.

 As I observed the night events on June 15, I saw students actively engaging with historic theater programs, unabashedly approaching the hands-on history carts to learn more about the objects on display, and staring, in awe, at a simple 3-D image through a century-old stereoscope. In accordance with tradition, students sought out their peers from other states to trade state buttons, and the quest for these simple items sparked conversations among students from all corners of the country; some were even generous enough to offer buttons to museum staff as tokens of their appreciation. As the students explored, parents and teachers stopped by the History Explorer table which featured the museum’s online resources for teaching and learning American history.

Museum staff display the different state buttons given to them by NHD students.

I had the opportunity to speak with many of the National History Day participants, sharing my own experiences and learning about theirs. Many were seasoned veterans of the competition; others were participating for the first time and said that they could not wait to return next year. Those who had recently graduated from high school and will not participate in next year’s competition talked about planning college majors in a broad range of fields, such as journalism, medicine, forensics, and—of course—history. They all agreed that their participation in NHD had provided them with invaluable skills in researching and public speaking. As one student from Washington put it, “History Day has taught me that history is part of everything.”

It was fascinating to see how the students’ projects interpreted this year’s NHD theme of “Debate & Diplomacy: Successes, Failures, Consequences.” Many students had personal ties to their topic, whether it focused on their local area or family connections. A group from Guam, for example, created an exhibit on the English-Only Act—which enforces the use only of the English language—because a member of the group is Chamorro and cannot speak his native tongue as a result of the legislation.

NHD participants stand before their exhibit on women's suffrage.

This year’s National History Day is done, but the show must go on. The theme of next year’s competition is “Revolution, Reaction and Reform in History.” To prospective National History Day participants: I highly recommend that you listen to this podcast about how to develop a great NHD project, featuring interviews with museum staff who have judged at the national level in the past. 

Jessica Marine is an intern in Daily Programs at the National Museum of American History.

The museum's architecture: Classical with modern details

Have you ever wondered why the exterior of the National Museum of American History looks the way it does?

Architectural sketch of the proposed Museum of History and Technology

Originally called the Museum of History and Technology, the building was designed by the architectural firm McKim, Mead, and White to blend the traditional architecture of the National Mall with more modern design to reflect the museum’s technological subject matter as well as its own role as a cutting edge museum. According to a 1988 interview with architect Walker O. Cain, “this [1950s and 60s] was a curious time. It isn’t that modern had taken over or that the traditional had totally relinquished control; the problem was how to resolve the two.” As a result, the building is what Cain describes as “classical in definition, and the detailing is modern.”

(Left) National Museum of Natural History, c. 1911. Smithsonian Institution Archives. (Right) National Gallery of Art West Building. Photo by flickr user iainr.

Classical architecture in the style of ancient Greece or Rome is characterized by symmetry, repetition, domes, carved decorations, columns, and large broad terraced bases. Many buildings on the National Mall, like the National Museum of Natural History, the National Gallery West building, the Lincoln Memorial, and the United States Capitol, show this classical influence. The cumulative effect of these designs was intended to create a “monumental core” within the nation’s capital, suggesting legitimacy, splendor, formality, and a firm grounding in history.

(Left) Lincoln Memorial, c. 1920. Smithsonian Institution Archives. (Right) United States Capitol Building. American Sculpture Photograph Study Collection, Smithsonian American Art Museum.

Modernist architecture, on the other hand, is characterized by less ornately decorated exteriors, more sheer planes, and abstract shapes. The Hirshhorn Museum and Scultpure Garden and the East Building of the National Gallery of Art are good examples.

(Left) Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, c. 1986. Smithsonian Institution Archives. (Right) National Gallery of Art East building. Photo by Flickr user iainr.

The National Museum of American History features both of these influences. For example, the most distinct feature of the museum’s design is the recessed and projecting bays of the exterior walls. The classical influence on this design is evident in the repetition and symmetry of the bays, which resemble columns like those on the Lincoln Memorial. However, in keeping with more abstract modernist aesthetics, the sheer marble planes merely suggest columns rather than actually forming them. The cornice around the top of the museum is another classical feature, but is also modern in that it breaks from tradition by being supported by horizontal outriggers to create a more abstract “shadow cornice.” Finally, rather than having small windows typically used in classical architecture, the museum features large glass windows, meant to connect the inside of the museum to the outside while providing a view of the surrounding “monumental core” of the city. In these and other features, the classical and modern characteristics combine to create a building that remembers the past while looking to the future.

Ben Miller is an intern with the New Media Program at the National Museum of American History.

Why I love new media!

Editor's Note: The following post was written by a spring intern in New Media, the department that is responsible for bringing you this blog every week. If you're interested in interning with us, please apply (fall applications due July 1); if you'd like to volunteer rather than intern, please email us.

For the past four months, I have been interning with the Department of New Media. Here’s the official scoop on what we do up here on the fourth floor of the museum:

“Through innovative uses of technology, the Department of New Media facilitates interaction with the museum’s exhibitions, collections, and programs, both inside and outside the walls of the museum. Our goals are to enhance the visitor experience with appropriate technology; promote the museum and attract audiences; and facilitate object-based learning through electronic outreach.”

As I get my files ready for the next occupant of the best-corner-desk-ever (your monitor=the envy of all interns everywhere), I’d like to point out the top five reasons you want to intern here:

5. “It would really be great if . . . ” 

I absolutely LOVE getting a new assignment that I wasn’t expecting. It’s wonderful to walk in the door and hear, “MK, we need pictures of the fire hats on display in the Artifact Walls. Grab the camera.” Really? How cool is that? The answer you are looking for is: Pretty much amazing!

4. Statistical analysis 

What? Did she really write that? Yes, I did. Here, I was able to dive into Google Analytics and WebTrends to analyze and evaluate the fruits of my online efforts. Considering I avoided math classes like the plague in college, it says something that I enjoyed this. There are few jobs where you get to track your own progress and impact in real time.

3. Tweet, tweet

No, I didn’t commune with the birds on the National Mall. We’re talking Twitter. As the intern assisting with the museum’s social media efforts, you help select items for “This Day in History” messages, promote blog posts, chat about Foursquare check-ins, and answer visitor questions. Basically, the stuff many interns and employees are asked not to do (What are you doing on Twitter during work hours!?!) is what makes up the beginning and end of each day here.

2. Speaking of social media . . . Facebook! 

My brother has a theory: I am always on Facebook. Now, I get to tell him it’s necessary, and not cross my fingers while saying it. The museum uses Facebook to spark discussion about our blog posts, share news and photos, and relate “This Day in History” facts to our collections (also my contribution to the ongoing website redesign—stay tuned for the new site in June!). You really see my personal influence in picking things to feature each time you see a reference to Broadway or The Garden State.

This brings me to the number one reason you should want to intern in the Department of New Media . . .

1. They are the greatest people with whom I have ever had the privilege of working. 

Dana, Matt M., Dave, and Matt R. are all friendly, supportive, and real experts in their fields. The office felt like a second home in D.C. I always knew I could ask for feedback or help at any time. Hard work is rewarded with increased responsibilities and encouragement to try new things. I will be sad to leave my corner desk and not be able to swivel my chair around to chat with the team. Luckily, I know I can find them at any time in their social network!

Mary Kate du Laney is an intern in the Education and Interpretation and New Media departments at the National Museum of American History.