After the Armistice

In commemoration of the 100th anniversary of the signing of the Armistice for the cessation of hostilities on the Western Front between the Allies of World War I and Germany, we have a post written by one of our Archivists, Helena Hilton, that reflects on the lasting effects that the war was to have on families. This blog looks at  how the Waifs and Strays Society sought to assist the families of former soldiers scarred by the effects of war.

No doubt they’ll soon get well; the shock and strain
Have caused their stammering, disconnected talk.
Of course they’re ‘longing to go out again,’—
These boys with old, scared faces, learning to walk.
They’ll soon forget their haunted nights; their cowed
Subjection to the ghosts of friends who died,—
Their dreams that drip with murder; and they’ll be proud
Of glorious war that shatter’d all their pride…
Men who went out to battle, grim and glad;
Children, with eyes that hate you, broken and mad.

Siegfried Sassoon, “Survivors”

Most of us are familiar with the films of victims of shell shock, those men with staring eyes and uneven gaits, who drop to the ground terrified by the slightest sound. At this 100th anniversary of the 1918 Armistice, there is a lot of focus on how the fighting came to an end, but for these men, in a sense, the war would never end: it went on and on in their shattered psyches, maybe all their lives. And the injuries of these terribly damaged men did not affect them alone: though we hear less about the families to whom the soldiers returned, and who had to deal with the consequences of their injuries, their lives too might be completely devastated, with consequences that would reach down the generations.

Field dressing station, 1917 (Wellcome Trust)

The case files of The Children’s Society illustrate vividly the lives and struggles of ‘ordinary’ people whose narratives have not always been part of “official” histories of this country preoccupied with Empire and industrial dominance. In them we find the story of one particular family for whom the end of the First World War in November 1918 was not a time for rejoicing and a signal to start rebuilding a family life, but for whom the war and its effects remained an ever-present, dominating reality.

In 1918 the Fair family were living in Halstead, Essex having recently moved there from Woolwich in south London. Henry (Harry) Fair, a career soldier, had come home from the War, but he was a different man to the one who had gone out to fight for his country. He was profoundly psychologically injured, and his family life had been devastated. His injuries were so severe that he had been medically discharged from the army in 1915 and was left incapable of working or even looking after himself, let alone his wife and three children.

A soldier suffering from shell shock

It was in November 1918 that the local curate, Revd Chamberlain, contacted The Waifs and Strays Society (as The Children’s Society was known in those days.) Harry’s wife, Alice, had just died and the vicar’s report on the family’s circumstances gave an insight into the dreadful conditions in which they had been living. The home was extraordinarily “dirty and miserable” and Alice had died “practically from starvation as her husband suffering severely from shell shock has an enormous appetite and there was only 24 shillings coming in weekly”. The military authorities had been negligent in organising the pension and Harry was shortly due to appear before a medical board for the 17th time in the hope that they might at last reach a decision. The local doctor feared that Harry might kill his children if they were left with him and so a local woman agreed to look after them temporarily and money was collected to buy them clothes. Harry himself was admitted to a home for soldiers in South Kensington, his desperate state apparently recognised at last. The children were destitute and their situation was “notorious all over the town”. Revd Chamberlain wanted the Society to take Harry’s two little boys, Charles and James, born in 1912 and 1915. Their elder sister, Kathleen, was found a home locally with a couple considering adoption.

In early December the Case Committee of the Waifs and Strays Society agreed to accept Charles and James as War Cases: the fact that the Society had formulated a particular procedure for children whose needs resulted from the War is, of course, a measure of its impact The little boys were taken into St Elizabeth’s Receiving Home in Clapham on 30 December 1918, and the following month they were placed with a foster mother in Rackheath, Norfolk. This illustrates the Society’s procedures in two ways: younger children were boarded out rather than placed in a larger Home in order to provide them with a mother figure and a family environment, and siblings were kept together where possible to maintain family links and to lessen the profound impact of coming into care and leaving the family home. On admission Charles and James were both suffering from rickets, a condition leading to softening of the bones and usually arising from poor nutrition, unsurprising given the conditions in which they had been living.

Once the children were in its care the Society set about finding out if they were eligible to receive a pension arising from their father’s war service. It was in January 1919 that Revd Edward Rudolf, the Founder and Secretary of the Waifs and Strays Society, was informed by the Pension authorities that an allowance had been made in respect of Harry’s children while he was undergoing treatment. Harry spent some time at a variety of hospitals and clinics specialising in the treatment of shell shock victims but unfortunately his health remained very poor. It seems that he was keen to maintain links with his children as he was able to visit Rackheath and stay at the foster home for a few days in the summer of 1920. Not long afterwards a representative of the Society visited Harry at the Special Hospital, Church Lane, Tooting, another neurological hospital used by the Ministry of Pensions for ex-servicemen suffering from shell shock: “The man has been 3 months an inmate, it was pitiful to see the poor fellow. Judging from his present appearance I should say that it is hardly ever likely that he will recover sufficiently to earn his livelihood. I did not ask the man his complaint, but should say he was suffering from paralysis and shock”.

In April 1921 Charles and James moved to a new foster mother in Dorset. They settled well in their new home and the supervisor who made sure all was well with the placement, reported that they were “dear little boys”. She asked how Harry was getting on and if there was an address for Kathleen: “I think Charles worries at not hearing”. The Society provided the most up to date information they had in the hope that contact could be made. Throughout the rest of 1921 and 1922 the reports of the foster home were good and Charles and James enjoyed a settled life. However, in early April 1923 their foster mother had to give the Society authorities the news that Harry Fair had died on 1 April at Netherne Mental Hospital, Coulsdon, where he had been an inmate since 18 November 1922. Harry was 38 when he died and the cause of his death was given as pulmonary tuberculosis. Harry was buried by the Ministry of Pensions at Reigate Cemetery, Surrey on 7 April 1923.

The children’s files contain a great deal of correspondence with the Pensions authorities concerning the allowances to which they were entitled following their father’s death. In March 1924 the Society decided to transfer the boys to the Hatton Home, Wellingborough: this was a centre where children whose fathers had been killed, or died, as a result of the War were supported by a special fund which had been raised for them in South Africa. In June that year a major conflict erupted between the Society and the Ministry of Pensions. The Ministry informed the Society that Harry Fair’s death could not “be certified to have been wholly due to the nature or condition of the pensioned disability as resulting directly from war service”, and that Charles and James were therefore not eligible for a pension. The Society authorities were incensed by this decision: they of course wanted the best for the children and in addition their funds at this time were extremely stretched, the War having swelled greatly the numbers of children for which they had to care. They, and Harry Fair’s children, needed all the help they could get; but the pensions authorities were known to be extremely stingy and difficult to deal with.

The Waifs and Strays Society appealed against the decision and spent a considerable time amassing evidence for their case and consulting legal experts. The paperwork submitted for the appeal, which was heard in December 1924, went into detail about Harry’s military service and his medical treatment. He had joined the Army in August 1897 and served until August 1909: his foreign service included spells in India, South Africa and Egypt. He joined up again at the outbreak of the First World War and was in France by October 1914. Harry was first diagnosed with neurasthenia in January 1915 and he spent 16 days in hospital. (There is much debate about the terms used to denote psychological trauma arising from war service. The Army discouraged the use of “shell shock”, and “neurasthenia” – actually meaning a mechanical weakness of the nerves – seems to have been employed as a catch-all description for war neuroses and for the result of prolonged anxiety and shock.) It. In the spring Harry was ill again with the same complaint and “shock”, and from May to July was in hospital, but his condition did not improve and on 5 July 1915 he was recommended for discharge from the Army as permanently unfit. It was noted that he “seemed nervous and was inclined to keep moving restlessly about. He talked in his sleep a good deal and walked with a very staggering gait, with the aid of a stick”.

Urgent medical attention was recommended in February 1918 by a “medical referee”, presumably giving evidence to the Pensions Board: “This man’s condition demands immediate attention. He must be removed from his present home and surroundings and appropriate treatment given. I recommend the London Hospital, as under the care of Dr Henry Head every effort will be made to restore him if possible. He is totally incapacitated and will remain so for many months probably.” It has not been recorded whether or not Harry was treated in hospital at this time; there is no indication on the evidence sheet that he was.

In July 1918 the Board found that Harry was still suffering from neurasthenia. He “states he cannot control his legs and arms. Has a difficulty in getting out his words. His limbs and body are in a continual state of spasmodic movements.” In June 1921 Harry was in a Ministry of Pensions Hospital and his condition was worsening. He was “mentally deteriorating” and further treatment was thought necessary. A later, but undated, report by a neurologist stated that Harry was not likely to improve by treatment. He had “gross hysterical symptoms with progressive mental deterioration” and was sent to Netherne Mental Hospital on 18 November 1922.

The Society claimed that the Ministry of Pensions had recognised Harry Fair’s disability ever since his sons had been in its care. They had granted pension allowances in respect of the children’s maintenance (however these had fallen far short of the actual cost of their upkeep) and had organised the burial arrangements after Harry’s death. The trump card was a letter dated 23 July 1924 that the Society had received from the Medical Superintendent of Netherne Hospital. “I beg to say that the above-named patient was admitted on November 18th 1922 and died on April 1st 1923 from Pulmonary Tuberculosis. He was made a Service patient by the Ministry of Pensions as his mental disability was thought to be due to his Army Service. I have no doubt that the disease from which he died was due more or less directly to the debilitated state in which his service in the Army left him”. The term “service patient” is significant: it had been introduced in August 1916, the aim being to avoid the stigma of these men being regarded as paupers. They were to be considered as private patients, wear a distinctive uniform and enjoy the privileges appropriate to such patients and their maintenance became the responsibility of the Ministry of Pensions. Here was clear evidence that the Ministry had seen Harry’s disability and deterioration as a direct consequence of his war service.

Letter from Medical Superintendent of Netherne Mental Hospital, 1924

The final decision of the Ministry of Pensions was favourable: “It is recognised that death was connected with service; a pension has therefore been awarded”.

So, now that their financial position was more secure, what became of the children?

Charles did well at school and in 1927 was apprenticed to an engineering firm as he had requested. The Society continued to help with his maintenance as he only received a nominal wage: he also received a certain amount of help from the South African Fund, and the Ministry of Pensions extended his pension for a little while, until they decided in August 1928 that he was receiving “in excess of what constitutes nominal wages”. Another charitable fund connected to the Society gave him a grant and with this and continued support from the Society Charles was able to complete his apprenticeship. He received glowing reports from the Manager of the Engineering Firm and from the Superintendent of the Society’s Hostel where he was living. Once his apprenticeship was finished in 1932 he settled well into work and continued to keep in touch with people he knew in the Society. The Hostel Superintendent was able to pass on to the Secretary of the Society news of his continued success at work and his forthcoming marriage in October 1936. Everyone was very happy to hear how well things had gone for Charles and wished him well for the future.

Evidence submitted to Pensions Appeal Tribunal

Life was not so easy for James. He was suffering badly from rickets on entering the Society’s care and although his legs became much straighter after receiving proper care his thighs remained bowed. He was also “tiny for his age, with a neck set almost in his shoulders”. As well as his physical problems James’s “mental development was poor” and in 1926 it was recommended that he be sent to a special school for what were at that time called “backward children”. James had been born in 1915, at a time when his father was very ill and his mother presumably severely undernourished. Home life during his earliest years was wretched and the family had very little money for food. These were the days before the Welfare State, when there was much less in the way of a safety net for families in crisis and it was much easier to go under: it seems likely that his traumatic start contributed towards his disabilities.

James was frequently examined and various medications, such as thyroid treatment were tried. His file contains considerable correspondence as there was much debate about what might be best for him. In November 1927 he was sent to St Boniface Home, Sampford Peverell, Devon on a six-month trial. He grew stronger, but unfortunately his mental development did not improve and was in fact considered to be “growing worse”. After an examination by the Devon County Council Medical Department in September 1928 he was declared to be “ineducable”: at his time the belief was that children with learning disabilities were impossible to educate, and it was not until the 1971 Education Act that it was officially recognised that “no child is ineducable”. Recommendation was made that he be admitted to a Home for the mentally disabled: The Waifs and Strays Society had no provision for children with learning disabilities and as Devon County Council refused to take any responsibility for him, in May 1929 James was placed with the Tiverton Poor Law Union. The plan was to shortly transfer him to a “Mental Home near Exeter”.

Here the story fades out. The Society had supported the children as much as it could for as long as it could; here the files end. Charles kept in touch with his brother and presumably continued to do so after the time for which we have records. Kathleen, the eldest sister who was adopted, seems to have drifted away: we have no further communication from her, though she may perhaps have re-established contact with her brothers later. So the children enter the 1930s; both parents dead, one boy physically and intellectually damaged by his traumatic start, the eldest sister apparently no longer in contact. The impact of Harry Fair’s service on the Western Front spread widely, back to England and on through the years: like the waves spreading out from a rock thrown into water. As we mark 100 years from the Armistice, we should remember Harry Fair, his family, and the thousands like them for whom the War never really ended at all.

Neglect, Ambition, Bad Fortune, and the Early Years of Blood Transfusion

Today we have a guest post written by one of our project volunteers, Ella St John-McAlister.

***

Reading Alfred’s case file left me with the impression that he had been a bright and ambitious boy. He came into the care of The Children’s Society (then known as The Waifs and Strays Society) in 1916. Unlike the subjects of most case files I come across (I am researching children’s illnesses and their medical history) he was a healthy boy. This was in spite of Alfred’s father having passed away when Alfred was five years old and his mother being jailed twice for neglecting her children – although the nature and extent of her “immoral life” is unclear.

We know little about Alfred’s life before he entered The Children’s Society except that he had six brothers and sisters, one of whom was the illegitimate child of a “sergeant who was called to France and killed”. It was for neglecting this child that Alfred’s mother was first jailed in 1916. We also know that all of Alfred’s brothers and sisters were in the workhouse: a desperate, destitute sanctuary for those who were unable to support themselves. Something of Alfred’s character comes across in the application form submitted to The Children’s Society, where it states that Alfred played truant despite being “quick and sharp”.

Alfred was admitted into The Children’s Society’s care at the age of eight in 1916, and at the age of 14 he applied for an apprenticeship on a Navy training ship called the Arethusa, indicating a desire to travel and a willingness to “obey his [the Commander’s] and [his successors’] lawful commands”.

Alfred’s acceptance letter from the Arethusa Navy Training ship, 1922 (case number 20702)

The fact that he was allowed to join the ship indicates that he must have been at a certain level of health because there were strict requirements on the height and health of those who joined:

Age: 13½-15   Height: At least 4ft. 8 in. (without boots.)
Age: Over 15   Height: At least 4ft. 10½in. (ditto.)

Once on board a typical daily menu aboard the Arethusa might have looked something like this:

  • 1lb soft bread
  • 8oz biscuit
  • 7oz fresh meat
  • 8oz potatoes
  • 3/4oz cocoa
  • 1/8oz tea
  • 2/3oz sugar

A pretty meagre and dour menu by today’s standards. After he joined the Arethusa Alfred vanishes from view. Sadly, it is a letter from Alfred’s mother reporting his death in 1926 at the age 18 that enables us to piece together an idea of his last years.

A letter from Alfred’s mother informing The Children’s Society of his death, 1926 (case number 20702)

A letter from Alfred’s mother informing The Children’s Society of his death, 1926 (case number 20702)

Dear Sir,

I feel I must write to tell you the sad news of
my poor boy, Albert [middle initial, surname], he went out to America 2 ½
yrs. ago. I was Expecting him home last Easter, I received
news a fortnight ago to-day to say he met with an accident
on Jan 11th and died Jan 19th it is a terrible shock to me,
I shall never, never get over it, he had an operation and
transfusion of blood, but they could not save him.

When the snow was about, he was in a sled coasting
down a steep hill, when the sled struck a stick, causing it
to swerve into the gutter seriously injuring him, they took
him to St. Vincent’s Hospital, West New Brighton, he was
provided with a private room and two trained nurses, at the
expence [sic] of the New York Telephone Coy. [Company] where he had been
employed only two months, previous to that, he
served 12 months in the U.S Army, so ten of his soldier
friends acted as ball [sic] bearers and firing squad over his
grave, he put his age on 3 years, by letters I have had his
friends were surprised at his correct age, he was a fine
fellow. The British Society and his firm gave him a good
burial, plenty of flowers, in fact, he was far better
treated than he would have been in England, I hope you don’t
mind me writing, but I felt I must.

I don’t know what I shall do without him, he
was always a man in his ways, I would not mind so much if
I could have seen him the last of him, or if I only I could see
his grave.

I hope this will find Matron quite well,

I am,

Yours Truly,

(Sgd. [Signed]) Alice [middle initial, surname]

It is a sad ending to what looked as if it could have been a very promising future, but this letter also holds some fascinating information. The reference to a blood transfusion is the first instance we have found of this procedure in The Children’s Society’s case files. The technology behind the procedure for extracting, storing, and transfusing blood was still developing at the time Alfred received his transfusion.

The first recorded, successful attempts at blood transfusions happened in the 1600s, although these experiments used animals. Even in the late 1800s blood transfusions were shunned by medical professionals and considered extremely risky. In fact, in Britain in the early 20th century, surgery textbooks referred to blood transfusions as a quaint relic of medical history. If only they had known! However, just as the idea of blood transfusions was being cast aside, the discovery of different blood types was made. The medical and surgical needs brought on by World War I also acted as a catalyst for the idea of blood transfusions gaining respectability within the medical field.

Click here for more information about blood transfusions (including an interesting image) from The Science Museum.

What makes Alfred’s story so exciting is that in 1926 when he received his blood transfusion, the first hospital blood bank in the United States had not even been established. Whilst blood was donated voluntarily in Britain from the early 1920s onwards, donors were being paid up to $100 for a pint of blood in the U.S., meaning Alfred’s procedure could have been quite a costly one.

Although Alfred’s case file is fairly slender, it contains useful information on what it was like to be a child at that time and a child under The Children’s Society’s care, and also on an important medical advance, one many of us might take for granted today.

Artificial sunlight and sunshine suits

Today’s photos might look a little like something out of a vintage science-fiction film, but they are, in fact, pictures of real early-20th Century medical treatments. These treatments were carried out in some of children’s homes that were run by The Children’s Society (then known as the Waifs and Strays Society) and they both involve light.

You may have heard that exposure to sunlight helps our bodies to synthesise vitamin D, and that a lack of vitamin D can lead to rickets. It’s perhaps not surprising, then, that the children’s homes which carried out this light therapy were ones that looked after children with orthopaedic problems.

As well as cases of rickets, The Children’s Society’s orthopaedic homes often looked after children who were suffering from tubercular diseases of the bones and joints. Light therapy could be used to treat these diseases too, as light kills the tuberculosis bacteria.

The most obvious way to carry out light therapy is to expose the patient to sunlight, as in the photo below from 1927.

Photo of children in sunshine suits at St Nicholas' Home, Pyrford, Surrey, taken from the annual report for the Children's Union, 1927

These children at St Nicholas’ and St Martin’s Orthopaedic Hospital and Special School in Pyrford, Surrey, are wearing what the caption calls ‘sunshine suits’. To me these suits look rather like a pair of swimming shorts or underpants (and baggy ones at that!) It would seem that the aim was for the children to wear minimal clothing so that as much of their skin as possible could be exposed to the sunlight while they played outside.

However, as the British weather means that sunlight can’t be relied upon at all times, some of the homes also carried out artificial light therapy using electric lights.

Photo of girls undergoing artificial light therapy at Halliwick School for Girls, Winchmore Hill, London, taken from the school's annual report, 1937

In the above photo from 1937 we see girls at Halliwick School in Winchmore Hill, London, undergoing this ‘artificial sunlight’ treatment. The girls are sitting so that the skin on their backs is exposed to the electric light, while they are wearing goggles to protect their eyes.

From these photos and from others that I’ve come across in the archives, it seems that light therapy, be it natural or artificial, was a very popular treatment in The Children’s Society’s orthopaedic homes during the early-20th Century. When was this treatment first used and how successful was it for the patients? We won’t know without further research. Anyone interested? Please contact us (Hidden-Lives-Revealed@childrenssociety.org.uk) if you are, or if you’d like to use the archive for any other research projects.

For more information about light therapy see the following articles from:
The Wellcome Trust
The Science Museum

Sea air and tuberculosis (TB beside the seaside)

Today we have a guest post written by one of our project volunteers, George Cooban.

***

It’s the time of year when lots of us go to the seaside. The case files tell us that many of the children in the care of The Children’s Society in the late-19th and early-20th centuries also visited the coast. But, unlike today, it was often for medical reasons, rather than a holiday.

Previous posts on this blog have highlighted cases where various health conditions led to children spending time by the sea. The coastal convalescent homes run by The Children’s Society at Hurstpierpoint and Broadstairs, established to facilitate the care of sick children sent there, have also been researched in detail. However, I was keen to find out what the case files can tell us about the thinking behind this formerly commonplace practice.

Photograph of matron, staff and children outside 'Coronation Cottage', St David's Home, Broadstairs, Kent, c1912

Tuberculosis features very prominently in the case files, and the medical rationale behind the way it was dealt with is often quite clearly recorded. Therefore I decided to focus on cases relating to this condition in this blog post.

***

One thing we notice when examining many of these case files is that seaside convalescent homes were viewed as a means of preventing tuberculosis. (So not all the children who stayed at them were, strictly speaking, convalescent). This is illustrated by reports such as this one, dated 19 June 1910.

“There is a delicate girl aged 13, May [surname], who has been [at the Leamington Home for Girls] for many years, but has to be sent annually to the sea for her health. She probably has a tendency to tuberculosis, but no disease has developed owing to care. She now looks well having just returned from the sea. As she is now at a critical growing and developing age, it would be desirable to move her if possible to Felixstowe before winter for the next two or three years before she goes out. Leamington is relaxing and she needs bracing sea air.”

Another case file contains a medical certificate, written on 7 June 1905, which states that a child, a seven year old girl named Dorothy, has “a tendency towards consumption [tuberculosis]” and recommends moving her to the coast. Later correspondence says that she was treated with a special diet including new laid eggs.

Terms like “delicate” and “a tendency to tuberculosis” appear regularly in the case files. The health of the children referred to in this way was not good, but there is evidence to suggest that sending them to the seaside was seen as a preventative measure, stopping the development of more serious problems.

Several case files, such as those quoted above, give the impression that “sea air” was seen as healthy. But a letter from another case file provides a bit more detail. Dated 3 December 1913, it reports on the condition of a 13 year old girl, Annie, who was staying at St. David’s convalescent home in Broadstairs, Kent:

Letter reporting on the condition of Annie, who was staying at St. David’s convalescent home in Broadstairs, Kent, 3 December 1913 (Case number 13819)

Dec. 3rd. 1913.

Dear Sir – I am sorry to
inform you that
Annie [Surname]
has been examined by the
doctor today & he asks me
to write at once to you so
that she may be removed
to a sanitorium [sic] as early
as possible.

Owing to high winds & rain
I was obliged to remove her
bed indoors a fortnight
ago, & since then she has
gone down rapidly &

Dr. Brightman considers
it unsafe for her to be
in a room with other children
owing to her Tubercular
condition.

We have no proper place
for out of door patients
in the winter.

I am very sorry indeed
she is such a nice, willing
& gentle child.

Yours faithfully
Elsie Philip-Smith

The most surprising thing about this letter is the time of year it was written. It is implied that the only suitable place to treat tuberculosis patients is outdoors, even in winter. Open-air treatment for conditions including tuberculosis was fairly common a century ago. By arranging beds out in the open, as can be seen in the picture from The Children’s Society’s St Martin’s Home in Pyrford below, patients would be exposed to lots of air.

The open-air ward at St Martin’s Home, Pyrford, Surrey, 1928

From the letter about Annie we discover that open-air treatment was practiced all year-round. The need for weather which allowed it to take place is also evident. It can be said, in fact, that the weather conditions were of greater importance than how close the patients were to the sea. This is certainly suggested by a letter from another case file. A doctor writing in 1909 advises that a girl “threatened with phthisis [tuberculosis]… would be much benefited by removal to a warmer & more equable climate in the South of England.” Since the girl was living at that time in the St Barnabas’ Home For Girls, New Brighton, Cheshire – a place right by the sea – we can say that sea air on its own was not seen as especially important for health.

The prioritisation of fresh air, together with an “equable climate”, features in medical writing from the time. An article in the British Medical Journal from July 1898, for example, advises that an open-air sanatorium for tuberculosis sufferers should be situated “where the prevailing breezes sweep over the sea, or over moorland, or, better still, where these two conditions are associated, and fresh, pure air comes from all quarters of the compass.”

Similar thinking appears in another case file. A doctor’s report from 1927 on a 16 year old boy, Leslie, who had been working at The Children’s Society’s head office in London, states that he is “obviously predisposed to tuberculosis, especially as he works in London”, and recommends for him “an outdoor occupation, preferably in the country or at sea, as this will probably prevent any active tuberculosis developing”. The Society helped Leslie find work as a steward on the SS Baltic. This was quite different to the career previously envisaged for him: earlier correspondence highlights Leslie’s aptitude for draughtsmanship.

This case, like the others, shows the impact contemporary medical opinion had on the lives of children who had tuberculosis or were at risk of contracting it. Nowadays the condition can be treated with antibiotics. But a century ago the dangers were much greater, and the response was often to move children long distances for the good of their health, even if they were only considered susceptible to tuberculosis.

At a time when urban air pollution in Britain was severe, sea air was valued for its quality. However, simply being by the coast was not essential: the objective was fresh air. But the convalescent homes established on the coast did offer other benefits besides sea air. The staff were better trained to look after children with health problems. There were opportunities for the children to get exercise, which may have been limited in more urban homes. There is also evidence in some case files that children were given more or better food to build them up while they were staying in the convalescent homes. Finally, a modern study has suggested that there may be health benefits to be gained from living on the coast, but they are psychological ones, and not related to the air there. The case files show that, in the absence of today’s more effective treatments, a proactive approach to tuberculosis was taken, and this surely saved many lives.

Want to find out more?
Click here to read another blog post on sea air and health, featuring a case where the avoidance of sea air was recommended.

Historic articles from the British Medical Journal discussing open-air treatment of tubercular cases can be found here: http://www.bmj.com/archive

What medicines do you remember?

In previous posts, I’ve mentioned treatments and medicines that aren’t so commonly used any more although they were very popular in their time. If you can remember any of these, or would like to tell us about any other common medicines or treatments that you can remember, please let us know in the comments section below.

M&B 693

In the post about influenzal colds in 1940, the medical book notes that the children were treated with 693 tablets.

693 was a name for an antibiotic medicine called sulphapyridine. It was produced by the firm May and Baker and so was often also known as M&B.

The drug was first discovered in 1937. In tests it was found to be an effective treatment for pneumonia and it was also used to treat other infections such as sore throats and gonorrhoea. In fact, it became so popular that it was widely used during the Second World War and May and Baker had trouble keeping up with wartime demand for the drug.

Famously, Winston Churchill was successfully treated with M&B when he was suffering from pneumonia in 1943 which he contracted shortly after attending the Teheran conference that finalised the strategy for the war against Nazi Germany.

693 was later superseded by penicillin and other antibiotics.

Cod liver oil

In the post about tuberculosis in the early 1900s, we find that when John was ill, but before the cause of his illness was known, he was treated with cod liver oil.

Cod liver oil contains vitamin A and vitamin D and it is still used today as a supplement to help with joint problems. In the past it was regularly given to children; this was to help prevent rickets, which was very common in the early-20th Century.

Presumably, as in the case of John, it was also seen as a cure-all that could help to relieve someone’s symptoms when they were ill.

Port wine and brandy

Another treatment mentioned in the post about tuberculosis in the early 1900s is the use of port wine and brandy. When John entered a convalescent home with tuberculosis, he was prescribed port wine, brandy and a generous diet to help build up his strength.

Alcohol has been used as a medical treatment for a long time and spirits such as brandy were popular in the late-19th and early-20th Centuries. They were often used as cardiac stimulants that were thought to increase blood pressure, but some doctors used them as treatments for a whole variety of diseases.

One of the uses of brandy and other spirits was as a supposed aid to digestion and metabolism. They were often prescribed in the diets of people convalescing from illnesses and it is probably for this reason that they were prescribed for John.

Fresh air

In a number of cases we see that children convalescing from illnesses were sent out to homes in the countryside or on the coast. Several of The Children’s Society’s children’s homes were built on the coast for this reason, such as St David’s Convalescent Home in Broadstairs, Kent and St Agnes’ Convalescent Home at Pevensey Bay, Sussex.

Photograph from a leaflet advertising the Children’s Union, showing boys on the beach at St Agnes’ Convalescent Home, Pevensey Bay, Sussex, c1936

Leaving the big cities was thought to aid recovery although, interestingly, a number of children’s homes in London took in children with illnesses too. This was because a stay in London meant that the child would be able to attend hospital for treatment. Often they would be sent to London for a brief period of time and then go out to the countryside once the hospital treatment was complete.

What do you remember?

Do you remember any of the treatments I’ve mentioned here? Please tell me in the comments. It would be interesting to find out how popular they really were.

And that’s not all. I’d love to hear about other treatments and medicines that you remember. I’m sure my list is just the tip of the iceberg!