The Buffalo Orphan Asylum: Fact and Fiction

Since the Buffalo Orphan Asylum appears significantly in both Orphans and Inmates and A Whisper of Bones, I thought it was high time I discussed the institution and the plight of children in the early social welfare system of Buffalo, New York.  Most of this information comes either from the Erie County Poorhouse Inmate Records (soon to be available at the Buffalo and Erie County Public Library) or the Report of the Board of Trustees of the Buffalo Orphan Asylum (available at the Buffalo History Museum Research Library).

As indicated by the inmate records, the Erie County Almshouse was inhabited mostly by families during the earliest years of its existence (1829-1835).  These records also indicate that some young children came to the poorhouse unaccompanied by adults.  While there are no detailed comments provided in these ledgers, it is safe to assume that many of these unaccompanied children were orphans.  The children who came in without parents tended to stay longer than the children who entered with families.  Some died while in residence, of what, the records do not say.  Others left, although their destinations remain unknown.  Some were bound out to the lowest bidder for their care as apprentices or laborers, which was often a worse fate than the county poorhouse.

Image by Robert J. Higgins

The Buffalo Orphan Asylum was established in 1836.  Although I described it in my novels as part of the Erie County Poorhouse, the BOA was actually a privately funded charitable institution and was not located on the same piece of property the ECPH.  According to the Buffalo City Directory of 1837, it was located on “Seneca below Michigan, opposite the widow St. John’s stone house.”  It did, however, have a working relationship with the ECPH and children from the poorhouse were often sent there. 

Another piece of fiction was the role of the Catholic Church in the BOA.  The original constitution stated that one Trustee be elected each from 11 different Christian churches.  None of the Trustees were Roman Catholic.  In fact, there was often conflict in Buffalo among the Roman Catholics and other Christian churches with regard to their charitable efforts (recall the establishment of Buffalo Hospital of the Sisters of Charity from an earlier blog).  

While the Board of Trustees for the BOA was made up of gentleman, the Board of Managers, who actually ran the institution, was comprised of upwards of twenty women (many of whom had husbands on the Board of Trustees).  The structure of management evolved over time.  Originally there was a superintendent in charge of the day to day operations of the asylum (the first being Orissa Heely).  Later, there was a matron.  There was also a teacher in the early days of the asylum, and later a committee on education.

The Board of Managers, later called the Board of Directresses, solicited the funding and supplies necessary to provide for the children under their care (upwards of fifty children in the early decades).  Some reports provided detailed inventories of the food, clothing, bedding, and other necessities that were donated to the institution.  Physicians donated both their time and the medicines necessary to treat the various illnesses common among children.  Many of the early reports boasted general good health and low mortality; although no real statistics were provided. 

Image by Robert J. Higgins

When evaluating the effectiveness of this nineteenth century institution, it is important to remember that at the time of its establishment the alternatives to the Buffalo Orphan Asylum for homeless children were few, and perhaps less accommodating.  The children there were provided shelter, food, education and spiritual guidance.  It is uncertain whether they received the love, kindness and understanding that they must have desperately needed.  Therein lies the motivation for writing a series of fictional accounts in which there were characters who genuinely cared about those less fortunate.  What if there was a matron who insisted on nurturing  and caretakers who provided hope for the youngest of Buffalo’s poor? In the absence of historic documentation, we can only hope that the fiction reflects the facts.

The Buffalo Orphan Asylum: Fact and Fiction

Since the Buffalo Orphan Asylum appears significantly in both Orphans and Inmates and A Whisper of Bones, I thought it was high time I discussed the institution and the plight of children in the early social welfare system of Buffalo, New York.  Most of this information comes either from the Erie County Poorhouse Inmate Records (soon to be available at the Buffalo and Erie County Public Library) or the Report of the Board of Trustees of the Buffalo Orphan Asylum (available at the Buffalo History Museum Research Library).

As indicated by the inmate records, the Erie County Almshouse was inhabited mostly by families during the earliest years of its existence (1829-1835).  These records also indicate that some young children came to the poorhouse unaccompanied by adults.  While there are no detailed comments provided in these ledgers, it is safe to assume that many of these unaccompanied children were orphans.  The children who came in without parents tended to stay longer than the children who entered with families.  Some died while in residence, of what, the records do not say.  Others left, although their destinations remain unknown.  Some were bound out to the lowest bidder for their care as apprentices or laborers, which was often a worse fate than the county poorhouse.

Image by Robert J. Higgins

 

Sketch by Robert Higgins

The Buffalo Orphan Asylum was established in 1836.  Although I described it in my novels as part of the Erie County Poorhouse, the BOA was actually a privately funded charitable institution and was not located on the same piece of property the ECPH.  According to the Buffalo City Directory of 1837, it was located on “Seneca below Michigan, opposite the widow St. John’s stone house.”  It did, however, have a working relationship with the ECPH and children from the poorhouse were often sent there. 

Another piece of fiction was the role of the Catholic Church in the BOA.  The original constitution stated that one Trustee be elected each from 11 different Christian churches.  None of the Trustees were Roman Catholic.  In fact, there was often conflict in Buffalo among the Roman Catholics and other Christian churches with regard to their charitable efforts (recall the establishment of Buffalo Hospital of the Sisters of Charity from an earlier blog).  

While the Board of Trustees for the BOA was made up of gentleman, the Board of Managers, who actually ran the institution, was comprised of upwards of twenty women (many of whom had husbands on the Board of Trustees).  The structure of management evolved over time.  Originally there was a superintendent in charge of the day to day operations of the asylum (the first being Orissa Heely).  Later, there was a matron.  There was also a teacher in the early days of the asylum, and later a committee on education.

The Board of Managers, later called the Board of Directresses, solicited the funding and supplies necessary to provide for the children under their care (upwards of fifty children in the early decades).  Some reports provided detailed inventories of the food, clothing, bedding, and other necessities that were donated to the institution.  Physicians donated both their time and the medicines necessary to treat the various illnesses common among children.  Many of the early reports boasted general good health and low mortality; although no real statistics were provided. 

When evaluating the effectiveness of this nineteenth century institution, it is important to remember that at the time of its establishment the alternatives to the Buffalo Orphan Asylum for homeless children were few, and perhaps less accommodating.  The children there were provided shelter, food, education and spiritual guidance.  It is uncertain whether they received the love, kindness and understanding that they must have desperately needed.   Therein lies the motivation for writing a series of fictional accounts in which there were characters who genuinely cared about those less fortunate.  A matron who insisted on nurturing and compassion, and caretakers who provided hope for the youngest of Buffalo’s poor. In the absence of historic documentation, we can only hope that the fiction reflects the facts.

A wee bit from chapter two of A Whisper of Bones!

   

    

      Once home, she ate the remaining five chicken wings straight out of the fridge and stumbled upstairs.  Maude was not surprised to see a warm bubble bath waiting for her in the master bathroom.  Back in the grad school days, before they were married, Maude would return home in the evening, after teaching Comparative Primate Anatomy, to find a tub filled with fragrant foam awaiting her in the West Ferry apartment she shared with Don.  At first, she thought it was the most romantic thing he had ever done.  After a while, she realized it was his loving way of saying “Honey, you stink!”

            She chuckled as she entered the room, shedding the long sleeved t-shirt and jeans as she walked across the hardwood floor toward the bath.  “You remembered.”

            “I did.”  He replied.

            She walked in the bathroom and immediately noticed the heavy crystal tumbler with a healthy dram of whiskey perched on the medicine chest that stood next to the claw foot tub.  “Bonus!” she called out as she climbed into the pearly bubbles.

            At the same time the following evening she sat in the tub, tumbler in hand, pondering the recent turn of events.  In her wildest dreams, Maude never would have thought she would be back at the university and working on the Erie County Poorhouse Cemetery Collection.  It was like getting a “do- over,” a chance to do the project she had originally wanted.  Do-overs were rare in life and this was the best one of all.  Being no longer affiliated with any university, Maude was essentially a volunteer on the project, which suited her just fine.  She was free to study the bones unencumbered.  She had no budget to adhere to, no administration to deal with and nobody to impress.  Those complications would be dealt with by others.  Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the open door.  It was Don with the bottle of Jameson and another glass.

            “So what's the long term plan here?” he asked as he refilled her glass, then his, and took a seat on the edge of the tub.  There had been no reproach for working all through the weekend and leaving both the care of the boys and the house to him.  Don had always been supportive of her endeavors and she knew now would be no different.  Still, he had a right to know where, if anywhere, all this time in the anthropology lab was leading.  In his typical style, he asked a simple question and listened while she gave a long and complicated answer.

            “This is a big deal, Don.  They estimate they will remove nearly 400 burials between now and September.  All of the clay is making the cleaning very difficult.  We are lucky if we get two complete burials cleaned each day.  They really need my help.”

            He simply looked at her, knowing there would be more.

            “You know I am loving every minute of this.  I would give anything to be in the field helping with the excavation, but I could not justify paying anyone to work for me so that I can go volunteer, right?”

            The blue eyes continued looking at her impassively, waiting for her to find a solution.

            She continued.  “I also know that I can't continue to work long hours at the lab on weekends.  I appreciate you holding down the fort the way you did, by the way.”

            A nod this time.

            “It's a shame I can't get some work done during the day.  It's usually pretty slow after lunch.  If I could get to campus for even a few hours to clean and photograph the skeletons, maybe, between the pictures and my notes, I could work on some analysis back at the shop...  I could clear off the work table in the back so that I have plenty of room to spread out.  Do you think you could cover me for a few hours one or two days a week?”

            Finally a comment from Don, “Do you think it would really only be a few hours?  I know once you get started it will be hard for you to just stop when the clock strikes two.”

            “I will have to.  Look, Don, I know that I am asking a lot of you, but I really want to do this.  If my work on campus interferes in any way with our business, I will let it go with no argument.  Will you let me try?”

            Don got up and clinked his glass with his wife's and said “Here’s to your triumphant return to anthropology!”  As he left the bathroom, Maude detected a smirk on her husband’s face.

            “What's the look for?” she asked.

            “Oh, nothing.  I was just thinking your ghosts might have more to say about you working on this project than I do.”  He was referring to their assumption that the shop they rented was haunted.  Over the years both Maude and Don had heard strange noises and voices that occurred without reasonable explanation.  Twice when he was younger, Glen, their eldest son, claimed to have seen someone standing by the window when the shop was supposed to be empty.  Their younger son, Billy, was still not comfortable being in the shop alone.  “You better hope one of your almshouse inmates doesn’t follow you home!”

            She smiled “Well, the ghosts have been quiet recently so maybe they are bored with me.  Perhaps some new people will perk them up a bit.”

            “Be careful what you wish for!  You should get out of the tub, by the way. You’re starting to prune.”

            Maude smiled and raised her glass once again in the direction of her husband.  “Thank for this.”

With a wink and smile, Don raised his own glass and left.

More from Dr. Newman’s Ledger: The stories of real people

 Orphan By Robert J. Higgins

While doing research for The Seer and the Scholar, I transcribed Dr. James. Newman’s cholera ledger at the Buffalo History Museum.*  This ledger documents all of the cases of cholera that were treated in the city of Buffalo, New York during the epidemic of 1854. I think the most compelling parts of this record are the physician remarks.  Sadly, there were not comments for every patient, but there are a few worth sharing because they inspired characters in the story. 

The Suhn family has occupied my thoughts for a while.  Mrs. Suhn was found on July 1, 1854 at 11 a.m.  She was “confined with her stillborn child on the morning of the attack” [of cholera].  She died on July 2 at 5:30 p.m.  Her two year old daughter was taken to the hospital on July 1 at 7 p.m. and died the following morning at 5 a.m.  The physician recorded “had no medical treatment” for this child.  Mr. Suhn was taken to the hospital on July 3, no time was noted, however; he passed away the following morning.  There was no mention of any other surviving family members.  An entire family lost their battle with cholera in a matter of just a few days.

Mrs. Wilcox collapsed on July 4^th and died later that evening.  Mr. Wilcox also collapsed on the morning of July 4^th, but died the following afternoon.  The physician made the following remarks with regard to Mr. Wilcox: “His wife died yesterday from cholera- has been drinking for several days.”  Had Mr. Wilcox been drinking because his wife was near death?  Did his drinking contribute to his own death?  The record does not say.

Of all of the remarks I have read, those pertaining to young Mr. Crim provide stunning insight into the early nineteenth century American experience.  “Is a poor orphan begging his way to his grandparents in Cayuga Co.  Slept last night in a stable.  Found by police-sent to hospital.”  So, at the age of 12, this child lost his parents and set out from Detroit, Michigan, likely on foot, to find his family in New York only to be stricken by cholera upon his arrival.  What is even more compelling about this young man’s story is that he apparently survived the disease as there was no date of death recorded.  Did he make it to his grandparents?  The record does not say.

As a writer I feel it is important to tell these stories.  With a bit more research, some common sense and a healthy dose of humanity, I can fill in the gaps and create some realistic and inspiring characters for the third book in the Orphans and Inmates series.  For example, what were those hours in the cholera hospital like for the young Suhn child?  Was she separated from her mother?  Was she afraid?  Was she at peace when she passed?

What if Mr. Wilcox’s bender started because he feared losing the love of his life?  Perhaps there is a back story there about her inability to bear children.  The couple may have grown closer together after a number of miscarriages and stillbirths, knowing only the other could truly understand their devastation.  The loss of his wife may have represented a loneliness that Mr. Wilcox simply could not tolerate.  In his drunken stupor, he may not have even noticed the onset of his own symptoms.  In death he was finally reunited with his beloved wife and children.

There may have been a happy ending to young Mr. Crim’s saga.  Perhaps while he was recovering at the Cholera Hospital word was sent to his grandparents that he was in Buffalo and would be released soon.  They may have been grateful for his arrival, being no longer able to manage many of their daily activities due to their advanced age.  What if the arrival of their strapping young grandson actually resulted in keeping them out the poorhouse?

There are other stories to be told from Dr. Newman’s ledger.  Some tell the tale of the tireless work of many physicians, and the staggering number of new patients admitted every day as the epidemic raged through the city of Buffalo.  The ledger also documents the end of life for hundreds of people, some horrific and others peaceful.  All of these facts that were carefully recorded by the physicians have been woven together to create a fictional account of a fascinating part of early American history.

*Dr. James. Newman’s cholera ledger at the Buffalo History Museum http://www.worldcat.org/title/cholera-record-1854-june-21-oct-27/oclc/53904321

Why did so many Germans die from cholera in Buffalo during the mid nineteenth century?

Over the last few weeks I have been collecting data from the cholera ledger kept by Dr. James Newman, Health Physician in Buffalo during the 1854 cholera epidemic.  While I have only just begun to analyze the data, I thought it might be useful to report what I have learned so far.  First, however, I would like to correct a mistake from one of my earlier blogs.  The Cholera Hospital (McHose house, an abandoned tavern on property owned by Dr. Ebenezer Jonson, the first mayor of Buffalo) was not located near the poorhouse as I previously thought.  It was located just a few blocks away from the mysterious Hospital Street in Block 21 of the village of Black Rock, its boundaries being Ninth Street to the east, Niagara St. to the west, Carolina St. to the north and Georgia St. to the south (see the blue dot on the map).

City of Buffalo, 1849.  From the Buffalo and Erie County Public Library

With that cleared up, it is important to remember that the same hospital appears to have been used in all three major cholera epidemics (1832, 1849, and 1854).  Interestingly, I can find no evidence that the Erie County Poorhouse was used as a pesthouse during the 1832 or 1849 epidemics.  However, according to Dr. Newman’s ledger, of the 566 deaths recorded between June and November of 1854, 40 of them were at the Erie County Poorhouse.  Of these, 24 were from the insane department.  It is not known if these individuals were transferred there from their homes or if they were in residence at the poorhouse when they became sick.  I intend to check the Keepers Report for the poorhouse for that year to see if there are any details regarding the cholera epidemic.

Dr. Newman recorded cases of cholera from May 21- November 4, 1854.  The highest frequency of deaths occurred in July (n= 215).  The place of residence was not recorded consistently, but a great many deaths were recorded from Genesee Street (yellow arrow on the map), Exchange Street (red arrow) South Division (green arrow) and Jefferson Avenue (not seen on this map).  It should be noted here that few streets in the city of Buffalo that were spared from the disease, and without house numbers it is difficult to say where along any given street cholera cases may have clustered.

The demographic details of the epidemic were a bit surprising to me.  Of those who died, about 10% were under 5 years old.  Adults aged between 20 and 45 accounted for over half of the deaths (51%).  Keep in mind that the average life expectancy was about 45 for men and 35 for women during this period.  I would have expected greater mortality among young children and the aged (infant mortality was nearly 50% in many large cities during this period).  It will be interesting to compare these mortality statistics to those in Rochester during the same period (I am working with my colleagues at UB on a paper for our national meeting in 2016). 

It did not surprise me that most of the people who died from cholera were foreign born.  Mortality was higher in general among this group of people largely because the circumstances which lead them to leave their homeland often left them in poor health to begin with.  Surprisingly, 38% (n =214) of those who died from cholera were originally from Germany.  Recall that during the 1849 pandemic, the individuals who brought cholera from Europe to New York were Germans.  Only 84 deaths were recorded among the Irish (14%), and even less among other people of European ancestry. Why were Germans so vulnerable to this disease?  It will be important to understand the reasons families left Germany to come to the United States, and what circumstances in German communities lead to favorable conditions for the spread of cholera.  I would be very interested in hearing the details of individual family histories.  If you have a story to tell don’t hesitate to contact me.  In the mean time, I’ll keep searching for answers!

Winter weather woes and day job drama, a reality check

Snowvember in Western New York (courtesy of Amy Johnson Blocher)

I really screwed up at work this week.  My mistake cost the company a considerable sum of money.  The good news is that I own the company, so I did not lose my job.  The bad news is that I own the company so I lost a considerable sum of money!!  It was bound to happen sooner or later.  How many of us juggle this whole writing adventure with all of the other “real world” responsibilities, like our day jobs and our families?  Juggling, it turns out, is not my forte.  I feel it important to point out here that no animals or people were harmed in this debacle.  I simply forgot an important piece of information that I should not have, and likely would not have, forgotten if I had been more attentive at work.  The release of A Whisper of Bones and the looming deadline of a scholarly publication have kept my focus in the direction of non income (or, rather, not much income) generating endeavors.  When less lucrative pursuits are accomplished at the expense of the small business that supports my family, it’s time to take a step back and re-evaluate.

My costly mistake comes at the worst possible time.  Many folks are digging themselves out from underneath a record breaking snow storm in my part of the world.  While some people enjoyed the unexpected days off from school or work, many small business owners were forced to close during this historic weather event, losing nearly a week of income.  It has been a strange few days for those of us who live north of the impact area.  We closed our businesses largely because the rest of the city was crippled by severe weather and travel bans.  It was surreal to look out the window at clear skies while our neighbors only a few miles away could not see the street from inside their snow covered homes.  Closing down our business when the skies were blue and the roads were clear in our neck of the woods was a bitter pill to swallow.  An expensive blunder on top of several days of lost revenue was cause for concern.

My husband and business partner kindly stayed quiet while I apologized profusely and promised to get my head back in the game.  I declared my intention to give up on my writing and my research, sincerely intending to walk away until such time that I could spread myself a bit thinner with less dire consequences.  He would not hear of it.  So, with my tail between my legs, I crawled off to my office to ponder how I might prevent this from happening again?  Am I making a big deal of nothing?  Has this ever happened to anyone else?  Please make me feel better by sharing your mistakes, the lessons you have learned and how you moved forward.  Thanks!

Taking a break from cholera in favor of playoffs and book debuts!

We are recovering from a big weekend in the Higgins household.  My son’s football team made the playoffs and we got to watch the team play at Ralph Wilson Stadium, home of the Buffalo Bills!  My parents, who drove in from New England for the weekend, informed me that the last time they were at the stadium it was called Rich Stadium, they were seated in one of the corporate boxes, and OJ Simpson was playing.  I warned them that if they were to join us they must now call the stadium The Ralph, they must not complain about the cheap seats, and above all, they must not speak of OJ.  They agreed and made arrangements to rent a car for the trip.

I can't believe that in the year 2014 the administrators at Catholic schools still operate under the misguided notion that mothers don’t have jobs outside the home.  I give you as proof of this misunderstanding the fact that the game was scheduled at 5 p.m., requiring just about every working mother to arrange to leave her place of employment early in order to make it to the stadium on time.  So, at 4:30, with Granny and Grumpy in tow, we headed for The Ralph!  It was exciting to see our boys up on the jumbotron as we sat on the 30 yard line.  It was like being at a real NFL game.  We experienced falling snow, biting wind, and, sadly, defeat on Thursday night.  Not only did the St. Joe’s Marauders lose, but later that night the Bills failed to “squish the fish” and lost to the Miami Dolphins.  Later, in the warmth of our home, we licked our wounds, as well as the bottom of our hot chocolate mugs and refocused on the next adventure in our weekend.

The big event the following evening was the debut of A Whisper of Bones, the second book in the Orphans and Inmates series.  What were we thinking scheduling such an important event on a Friday night at seven p.m.?  As many of you know, I own a doggy daycare.  I am not sure if I am the only woman with a Ph.D. who cleans up dog poop, drool, and vomit for a living, but it's worth mentioning just in case!  For eleven hours a day, five days a week, my world is loud, smelly and hairy!  To schedule an event only one hour after we close for the day is always risky, particularly on a weekend.  However, the universe cooperated and with the help of the best staff a small business owner could hope for, I was out the door by 6:45!

You may wonder why I chose a small, yet stunning, shop to debut my second book.  It is an antique shop, not a book store, filled with expensive and breakable stuff.  Why would the owners of The Antique Lamp Company and Gift Emporium agree to play host to a bunch of historical fiction fans?  Well, this luminary wonderland was the inspiration for a similar shop in my book.  It was the perfect place for the debut of Whisper and I could not have conjured more gracious hosts.  The experience is an outstanding example of the power of small business.  There was tremendous support from our local small business association, and another nearby establishment, Caruso’s Italian Imports, kindly provided some savory treats for our guests to enjoy while they shopped.  The turnout was larger than I have seen for other authors at big chain bookstores.  All in all, the evening was a complete success.  I sold a lot of books and introduced my readers to one of the many gems in the Hertel Avenue business district.  As the holiday season approaches remember that books make wonderful gifts and shop local wherever you can!

The Cholera Chronicles: Early Buffalo hospitals

An interesting fact about hospitals: they were originally established to care for the poor.  That seems strange to us, I think, because in the twenty first century United States so many people can’t afford to go to a hospital when they need to.  Nineteenth century hospitals were established to provide care for those who could not afford for a physician to come to their home and often these same physicians donated their time and services in the hospital setting to care for those who were destitute. 

In Buffalo, New York, the first public hospital was established by the Sisters of Charity at the request of Bishop Timon in 1848.  Just a year later, the one hundred bed facility was incorporated as the Buffalo Hospital of the Sisters of Charity.  While the hospital was owned by Catholics, it was open to all individuals, regardless of religious affiliation.

The establishment of hospitals was just another aspect of the growing conflict between Protestants and Catholics during this time.  Just prior to the advent of the Sisters of Charity Hospital, a group of Protestant physicians had formed the Hospital Association Board in the hopes of establishing a facility of their own to serve the poor and to act as a teaching platform for the recently established Medical Department at the University of Buffalo.  Multiple attempts to secure funding failed largely due to squabbles between local physicians and the Buffalo Hospital of the Sisters of Charity remained the only public hospital in the city for a decade, although the Protestant physicians were reluctant to consider a Catholic hospital as a public institution, particularly one that was run by women.  Efforts to fund a “real public hospital” continued and Buffalo General Hospital was finally incorporated in 1855.

Both of the public facilities provided care for the chronically ill rather than those with acute infectious diseases.  Although the Sisters of Charity did treat cholera cases, a separate hospital was needed during the epidemic years.  Recall that various period publications made reference to the Cholera Hospital, but did not provide specific details.  With a little help from my friends, I learned that “the old stone house on the beach”  also described as “the brick house on the ravine” was then known as the McHose House, an abandoned tavern between what is now Niagara Street and Prospect Avenue.  It was established as a cholera hospital by Dr. Ebenezer Johnson, the first Mayor of Buffalo.  Dr. Johnson also initiated the first Board of Health during the 1832 cholera epidemic. 

City of Buffalo, 1849

My attempt to identify the location of McHose House on the map, has, once again, lead me in the direction of more questions than answers.  Three separate publications indicate that McHose House was located between Niagara Street and Prospect Avenue (the blue dot on the map above).  Looking at the 1849 street map of Buffalo, Prospect Avenue was called Ninth Street.  It appears that the Cholera Hospital was not far from the original Erie County Poorhouse (the red dot).  The description of “on the beach” hardly seems to fit this location.  However, if one follows Niagara Street down toward Genesee Street, it intersects with Hospital Street (the yellow dot), but sadly, is no closer to the water.

 

Hospital Street, hmmm…  In 1849, the only public hospital was Buffalo Hospital of the Sisters of Charity, which was located on St. Louis Place, near St. Louis Roman Catholic Church (not seen on this map).  The Cholera Hospital, although not near a beach or a ravine, was apparently located near the poorhouse.  The 1849 street map of Buffalo indicates a street called Hospital Street (interestingly, it is also shown on the 1835 map), but the only known public hospital was across town.  So, the question of the week is what hospital was Hospital Street named for if the locations of the only existing hospitals are already accounted for?  

And so begins The Cholera Chronicles

If you are a regular reader of my blog you are likely thinking that the Cholera Chronicles actually started two blogs ago, and I suppose technically they did. As I explore the epidemic experience in the city of Buffalo during the early to mid-nineteenth century, I find that my path keeps twisting and turning. The best way to keep my thoughts organized is to consider the blog a journal for the next few weeks. If you plan on coming along for the ride I will keep you informed of my research, any interesting morsels that might find their way into the third book in the Orphans and Inmates series, and the location of the next rabbit hole I am likely to fall into.

With the help of a brilliant librarian at the Robert L. Brown History of Medicine Library at the University at Buffalo, I found an article from the Buffalo Medical Journal written by Dr. Austin Flint entitled “Report of the Epidemic Cholera at Buffalo, 1849.” This little gem reported morbidity and mortality statistics for the duration of the epidemic. More importantly, Flint obtained these figures directly from the Proceedings of the Board of Health, which evidently met frequently during the three and a half month epidemic. Recall that the Board of Health was established, as it had been during the epidemic of 1832, directly in response to the cholera threat. The question is where are those proceedings now?

The Proceedings of the Board of Health are an important source of primary data. Both Dr. Flint and two period newspapers (The Buffalo Daily Republic and The Buffalo Morning Express) reported cholera deaths citing those proceedings as their sources. However, the total number of deaths listed in the newspapers does not agree with the statistics published by Dr. Flint. Area physicians reported cholera deaths to the Board of Health from Sisters of Charity Hospital, the Cholera Hospital (established at the beginning of the epidemic to treat individuals who could not afford alternative care), and the homes of individuals who could afford the care of a private physician. An examination of the original proceedings would allow for an accurate account of the reported cases and elucidate any other details not mentioned in the secondary sources. I have several inquiries out to my very resourceful friends in the hopes that these reports will be found.

The question of where the poor were seeking medical treatment during the epidemics came to light as I was looking at the inmate ledgers for the Erie County Poorhouse. The records for 1832 indicate that cholera patients from the city were not sent to the poorhouse and that the institution seemed to be spared the devastating consequences of the dreaded disease. While there are not, to the best of my knowledge, inmate records for the year 1849, two sources address the issue of medical care for the poor during that year. According to Dr. Flint, in the early days of the epidemic, Sisters of Charity Hospital took on the role of pesthouse. However, another building was converted into a cholera hospital for the city’s poor about a week later. In an article dated July 2, 1849, just days before the epidemic was at its peak, The Buffalo Daily Republic reported the following:

The Board of Health would inform the public that a Cholera Hospital has been for some time established at the old stone house on the beach, for the reception of such patients as are not in circumstances to receive proper attention at their own houses.

That same article went on to appeal to city residents to come to the aid of those who could not help themselves.

While the cholera is afflicting many of the poorer inhabitants of our city who have no means of obtaining medical assistance, it would be a humane act on the part of any person to aid in removing such immediately to the Sisters of Charity Hospital or to the Cholera Hospital, where they can and will receive every attention and care.

So with one question answered, another arises. Where was the “old stone house on the beach”? My initial inquiries have not provided me with any clues. Perhaps the elusive Proceedings of the Board of Health contain the answer?

A final fact of interest from Dr. Flint’s paper was the report of a case of cholera at the American Hotel on June 14, 1849. There are no details on this individual, but I think the case could be elaborated upon and included in my third book. Most of Buffalo’s elite social clubs were established later in the nineteenth century, so in A Whisper of Bones, the second book in the Orphans and Inmates series, the American Hotel on Main Street is depicted as a place where well-to-do gentlemen gathered for a pint. I imagine the individual who contracted cholera to be a German business man, maybe a jeweler, having traveled from New York City. In 1849, the first cases of cholera came to New York via Germany and traveled down the Erie Canal. Perhaps this man became infected enroute to Buffalo. This patient allows me to shed light on the lack of socio-economic preferences of the disease because the American Hotel would not have been frequented by men of little means and a reported case there supports the assumption that cholera was not just a disease of the poor. 

The character from the American Hotel has yet to be developed. How old is he? Did he come directly from Germany? Does he have a family back in New York? What, if any, relationship does he have with the Nolan clan? Does he survive the disease? Please feel free to offer suggestions.

When history does not cooperate

Don’t you just hate when you’re doing research and what you find out leads not to answers, but more questions?  Such was my experience over the past two weekends as I dug deeper into the cholera epidemics in Buffalo.

After sitting in the damp and chilly bleachers watching my son’s football team get stomped on by a team they were supposed to beat, I ran over to the Buffalo History Museum, still clad in multiple fleece lined layers, to take a look at some municipal reports for the Erie County Poorhouse.  I was interested to see if there would be any discussion of the cholera epidemics (of 1832 and 1849) and their impact on the poorhouse.  As I have mentioned before, the Erie County Board of Supervisors Reports for this period are hand written and only available on reverse negative microfilm.  With only an hour left before the Museum’s library closed, I knew my best strategy was to quickly review the documents, identify the pages pertaining to the cholera epidemics or the poorhouse and come back at a later date for a more thorough examination.

I rushed into the Museum’s research library and went straight to the shelf that held my rolls of microfilm.  I nodded a brief greeting to the staff so that I could make the most of what little time I had left before the doors were closed for the evening.  After quickly feeding the microfilm into the machine, I realized I had loaded it upside down.  When the film was finally loaded correctly, I wasted a good bit of time fumbling with the machine trying to remember which levers controlled the quality and size of the image. 

I did not find any mention of the cholera epidemic in the Board of Supervisors report of 1832, the year of the first major pandemic.  I found that very odd because the disease had such a disastrous impact on many large cities.  The hand written reports were extremely difficult to read and there is always the possibility that I missed something important.  Also, it may be that there was no time to record any details of the epidemic, as it struck so quickly and with such ferocity.  I will examine the reports again and also take another look at the reports for 1833 in the event that the Board needed time to process the events of the previous year before they could evaluate the impact of the cholera epidemic on the city.

I scrolled carefully on to the year 1849, stopping every time I saw the shapes that I came to know spelled the words poorhouse, poor, or cholera.  Finally in a meeting dated October 8, 1849 there was some discussion of this disease.  Members of the Board of Supervisors moved to give the recently (and temporarily) established Board of Health the authority to employ nurses and procure what supplies were necessary to deal with the epidemic.  They further moved to make the Board of Health permanent and give them discretion to set quarantines where they were needed to contain the disease.  I thought that was particularly interesting because physicians were arguing at the time that cholera was not contagious and quarantines were not necessary.  Also, because of Buffalo’s strategic location on the Erie Canal, quarantines would have brought commerce to a screeching halt.  However, the impact of quarantines on economic well being of the city was not mentioned in the proceedings.

Beyond that report, there was no mention of the disease itself, how many individuals had died, or if the epidemic was abating at all.  The rest of the account focused on which municipal entity was financially responsible for the cost incurred by the Board of Health.  Some argued that the Act of 1832, which established a temporary Board of Health to deal with the cholera epidemic of that year, maintained that all expenses relating to cholera and other “malignant diseases” be paid for by the county.  Others insisted that the city of Buffalo should take on the burden of said costs. 

There was also a discussion concerning the Board of Health established in the town of Evans to contain the spread of small pox.  It was argued that Boards of Health should only be established to contain “malignant diseases”.  Small pox was considered a “contagious disease” and, it was argued, if they allowed a Board of Health to be established to contain contagious diseases, what would stop another town from establishing a Board of Health to contain other diseases such as whooping cough!  I found it very interesting that members of the Board of Supervisors were more concerned with malignant diseases (malignancy is the tendency of any medical condition to get progressively worse) than contagious diseases (those passed from one organism to another via direct or indirect contact).  I am becoming very interested in the public perception of illness during this period before the germ theory of disease was understood and accepted.

The next logical place to investigate the impact of cholera on the Erie County Poorhouse was the actual records from the institution.  There are no surviving inmate or hospital records for the year 1849, so I looked through the inmate records for 1832 in the hopes of finding some mention of the disease.  Again, my investigation yielded very little information.  Twenty eight inmates died at the ECPH that year compared to 14 in 1831 and 17 in 1833.  The number of deaths in 1832 still seems low for an epidemic year.  Cause of death was not usually listed in these records, although cholera was sometimes written in the margin as a cause of death in later years.  However, 11 of the 28 deaths (39%) occurred between May and September (warmer months when the epidemic would have been at its peak).  These mortality statistics suggest that the ECPH was not being used as a pesthouse (a place to house infected patients) during the cholera epidemic of 1832.  It also appears that the institution's remote location with respect to the rest of the city (and likely the use of a well on the property) may have offered some protection from the spread of the disease.  Clearly more research is needed.

So my investigation into the primary sources has left me with more questions than answers (what else is new?).  Where were the people infected with cholera in the city of Buffalo treated?  Why did the disease not hit the ECPH harder?  What role did the Board of Health have in managing the epidemic during either pandemic year (1832, or 1849)?  What did they learn from the epidemic in 1832 that helped in the containment of the disease in 1849?  I’ll keep digging.  Stay tuned…

Early nineteenth century treatments for cholera

Although I am well acquainted with early nineteenth century medicine in the United States, I am seldom able to stifle a shudder when I read about the various treatments typical of the period.  Such was my experience over the past few days when I was reading about the cholera pandemics of the mid nineteenth century.  I am particularly interested in the impact of cholera on the Erie County Poorhouse in Buffalo, New York, as the pandemic of 1849 will figure significantly into my third book of the Orphans and Inmates series.

When reading medical accounts of cholera from the mid nineteenth century it is important to remember that most of the advances we now take for granted, like the germ theory of disease, came much later in the century.  By the 1848-49 pandemic, cholera was widely thought not to be an infectious disease.  The logic being that those who treated the sick seldom became ill.  In support of this was the claim of a physician to have slept on the very cot of a man who had died of the disease just the night before.  “To these facts I may add another, namely, of a gentleman with the disease dying upon my own cot, and my having not only slept, on the following night, in the same room, but upon the cot and bedding as well…”  

There was a general belief that environmental miasma, or poisonous air resulting from poor sanitation and overcrowding was to blame (for cholera and many other infectious diseases).  Such atmospheric toxins acted to depress the nervous and vital energies of the body and, as a result, produce other symptoms of the disease (such as vomiting and diarrhea).   Although London physician Dr. John Snow suggested as early as 1849 that contaminated water was the cause of cholera, it would be years later, during the 1854 pandemic, that he obtained proof by linking afflicted individuals to a specific well in London.   

          

While treatments during the 1849 pandemic varied, most practitioners held that the best results were obtained if therapy began in the primary stage of the disease.   The intent was to relieve “nervous prostration and congestion”.  Treatment was aimed at freeing the body of whatever might be in excess.  Initially substances were given to encourage perspiration such as Dover’s powder (a substance made up mainly of ipecac and opium), calomel, camphor, and opium.  After several hours of sweating, a patient was given cathartics (purgatives) such as rhubarb, magnesia and castor oil. Emetics, substances used to induce vomiting, were also employed.  Some physicians thought that cholera was caused by the accumulation of acids or other substances in the blood.  “Congestion” of the blood could be relieved either by bloodletting, cupping (the process of applying cups to the skin to form suction in the attempt to bring blood or heat to the skin’s surface) or by injecting substances like saline into the veins.  The problem with treatment in the primary stage of the disease according to physicians was that few individuals acknowledged symptoms like lethargy and loss of appetite and seldom sought treatment until the more severe symptoms like vomiting and diarrhea, characteristic of the later stages, set in.  It was generally agreed that treatment in the later phases was futile and mortality was high. 

According to C.B. Coventry, MD, a professor at both The Medical Institution of Geneva College and the Medical Department of the University of Buffalo in 1849, cholera came back to the United States aboard the packet ship called New York.  The ship left France in November of 1848 with over 300 steerage passengers, mostly from Germany, bound for New York.  At the time there was no cholera reported in Paris, or Havre, where the ship departed.  However, on November 25th, a single passenger became ill with a “severe bowel complaint”.  The disease spread and when the ship arrived in New York those who had not died were transferred to a quarantine hospital.  Although there were other passengers on that ship, only the Germans were afflicted with the disease.  Ninety one people were stricken by cholera in New York City as of January 1, 1849.  Of those, 47 died.  The disease would make its way via the Erie Canal to Buffalo, where over 900 people would lose their lives.  

Sadly, there are no surviving inmate records or hospital records from the Erie County Poorhouse for this period.  It is my hope that some mention of how the 1849 cholera epidemic in Buffalo impacted the poorhouse will be mentioned in the Keeper's Report, contained within the Erie County Board of Supervisors Report.  A trip to the Buffalo History Museum's research library is on the books for the upcoming weekend.  Wish me luck!!

The fate of the unclaimed dead

Because the burial procedures at the Erie County Poorhouse have figured prominently in both my research and my novels, I thought it might be interesting to share what I have learned.  The mortality ledgers from the Erie County Hospital (the hospital associated with the Erie County Poorhouse) were perhaps the most important primary sources of data.  These musty old leather bound volumes recorded the details of every person who died at the hospital.  While this medical facility served in one form or another throughout most of the second half of the nineteenth century, I have only examined the records between 1880-1913 (if there are others, I do not know where they are located). 

It is important to be clear that the majority of those who sought medical care at the ECH were not residents of the poorhouse, although inmates were treated there when they became sick or injured.  Most of the folks who came to this hospital lived in the city of Buffalo but could not afford alternative health care.  The records also indicated that the Erie County Hospital may not only have served the poor.  An examination of the occupations listed for patients revealed many skilled professions.  There were jewelers, musicians, confectioners, and book keepers mixed in with the many general laborers that were seen there.  There was even an evangelist.

Regardless of their occupation, these people came to the hospital because they were in need of medical attention.  Unfortunately, many of the patients who were treated at the hospital also died there.  The records were often very detailed regarding the interment of those who took their last breath at the ECH.  Because the county wanted to contain the ever growing costs associated with the poorhouse, great efforts were taken to locate the family members or friends of the deceased so that they could make proper arrangements for burial (thus saving the county of the expense).  Nearly half of the people who died at the hospital were claimed by family or friends.  

Most of the individuals (over 40%) who were not claimed were buried in the poorhouse cemetery. A numbered wooden stake marked their burial location in the event someone might come along and claim them afterall.  In the interest of thrift, the stakes that marked the places of individual burial in the poorhouse cemetery were pulled up each year to be used again, leaving the person interred below all but forgotten  The corresponding grave number in the ledgers indicated the individual's name, age, cause of death, date of death, nativity, occupation and, in later years, the time of death.  I recall collecting data from these records late one night and feeling the crushing sadness as several patients all died within hours (sometimes even minutes) of each other in a single evening.  

There was a small group of individuals in the later decades of the nineteenth century and into the early twentieth century who were unclaimed by family or friends and were transferred to area medical schools for dissection.  In 1854 New York passed the Bone Bill and it became legal to transfer the unclaimed dead from poorhouses, prisons and morgues for medical education.  Between 1897 and 1913 over 450 unclaimed individuals listed in the mortality ledgers were transferred for use in medical schools.  Who were these people in life?  Was their socioeconomic status a factor in why they were chosen for transfer?  What about their deaths made them likely candidates for dissection?  Was the cause of death important, or was it the time of year the death occurred? The mortality records along with other documentary sources will be critical in helping to find answers to these questions. Stay tuned!

Looking from the other side

Around the beginning of August I was feeling the pressure of my full time day job and so many deadlines approaching in the weeks thereafter.  As I am not the only aspiring author out there trying to fit my writing into that small space left over after the obligations of day job, family and other real world responsibilities are met, I find I am wondering how the rest of you do it.  So, let me share with you the reality of the last few months and maybe we can compare notes.

Here I am at the end of September with two successful speaking engagements behind me, my second book in the hands of my copy editor, my abstract submitted on time to the American Association of Physical Anthropology, and only a scholarly article to finish (with a whole month to do so).  An impressive series of accomplishments, to be sure, but rest assured that this short burst of literary and scholarly productivity was achieved at the expense of just about everything else.  I’ve aged a few years, gained perhaps as many pounds (I refuse to get on the scale) and my liver has asked me to take a break from that dram or two (or three) of whiskey enjoyed at the end of each long day.  The house is a mess, the garden is full of weeds and both my phone and computer have long since reached their capacity to store messages.

On the positive side, my husband and my son are alive and well and have managed to care for themselves adequately while I have been otherwise occupied (my son even learned to do his own laundry).  Thanks to the Higgins men I had clean clothes and takeout food to sustain me as I worked into the wee hours of the night.

At work, my very dedicated staff exceeded my expectations in their efforts to ensure that all of the pooches entrusted into our care each day were safe and happy.  Had it not been for their diligence, I would not have been able to retreat into my tiny office for a few hours during the day to finish a chapter or tweak a Power Point presentation.  The only barrier to productivity during that bonus window of time was the gassy old hound who lounged daily just outside my office door.

So, at the end (almost) of a several long weeks of intense productivity, I have survived with my family and my business intact.  Don’t be too impressed.  Assuming I didn’t die of exhaustion, I doubt very much that my loving family and loyal staff would be so supportive were this schedule to continue.  A long term strategy is needed if I am to persist with this very precarious juggling act.  How do you get the most out of each of the 24 hours and still keep your life, your love and your sanity intact?  

On the subject of book covers...

It's the middle of September and the mood has changed.  It's not just because most of my scholarly obligations have been met and the Bills are, as yet, undefeated.  Many of the dogs that were off enjoying their cottages in Canada during the summer months have returned, so it feels much like the start of school in Dogdom.  All of this excitement is swirling around like leaves on a windy fall day, not yet ready to settle.  I guess the question is where will it land?

If I could direct all of this positive energy, I would point it toward the St. Jude project.  So far we have sold 30 copies of Orphans and Inmates to benefit the hospital.  That may seem like a lot, but royalties are paltry in the self publishing universe and it only amounts to about $100.  I need some help getting the word out. Suggestions are welcome!!!

I am at the point where I need to start thinking about a cover design for Grave Reconciliations, the second book in the Orphans and Inmates series.  As you might guess from the working title, the fate of those buried in the poorhouse cemetery is an important part of the tale.  The trick is to have an eye catching cover that speaks for the story and will also attract people who have not read the first book.  My husband did the concept sketch for the O & I cover, which I was very pleased with and everyone seemed to like.  From there, the graphic designer (Dane, from Ebook Launch) did a great job of translating our vision into the perfect cover.

So, I am hoping that the same magical formula will work again.  Below is one of my husband's concept sketches for Grave Reconciliations.  It is meant to represent the cemetery at the Erie County Poorhouse, which I know from my research was located far away from the building.  The graves were marked by numbered wooden stakes.  Each number was linked to an individual, whose identity (name, age, sex, occupation, place of birth and cause of death) was recorded in a ledger.  At the end of each year, the wooden stakes were pulled up and reused, leaving the individual lying beneath all but forgotten.

Without revealing too much of the plot, Grave Reconciliations introduces a paranormal element and moves between the past and the present as the spirit of an almshouse inmate reveals clues that expose widespread corruption, not the least of which was body snatching and the illegal sale of the unclaimed dead from the poorhouse to an area medical school for dissection.  Would this cover (or, rather, a color version of it) and the description mentioned above attract your interest?  If not, why?  Is the image of the cemetery too creepy? Not creepy enough? Should I include a ghost? Please let me know what you think!

Balancing the past and the present: Healthcare and humidity

Fall is here, sort of, and the dogs are settling into the change in routine and the change in weather.  This is a time of transition for us as the college help goes back to school and we scramble around the schedule to accommodate their classes and internships.  Who knew the hottest days of the summer would be in September?  We added extreme heat and humidity (comparatively) to a largely understaffed week at work and the start of school for the teenage son (and his first out of town varsity football game).  With the usual combination of awesome husband, after work cocktails and dumb luck, I managed to survive it all, plus a gardening injury that sent me to Urgent Care for some super glue and a tetanus shot!

So here we are a week away from the abstract deadline for our national meeting (The American Association of Physical Anthropology) and the plan is to spend the day looking at the physician reports from the Erie County Poorhouse.  They are contained within the Proceedings of the Erie County Board of Supervisors from 1880-1910 (Available at the Buffalo and Erie County Public Library).  The working hypothesis is that the Erie County Hospital (part of the Erie County Poorhouse complex) provided adequate care for the city’s poor.  Quantitatively, we have the Hospital Department Report (sometimes called the Physician’s Report).  These reports documented the number of people treated, what they were treated for, if they were cured and if they died (among other variables, such as nativity, or country of origin).  We will use these data to calculate crude death rates and disease specific death rates for the Erie County Hospital to compare with the census data for the general population. (Below: Proceedings of the Erie County Board of Supervisors, 1895, from the Buffalo and Erie County Public Library)

There are also qualitative data such as resolutions or written reports from the Medical Superintendent that documented changes in procedure, such as the report below.  This report documented the hospital’s move to the former lunatic asylum (now Hayes Hall on the University at Buffalo’s Main Street Campus) by Dr. Francis Metcalf in 1894.  This report discussed the reclassification of many cases from chronic to treatable, as well as improvements/changes to the facility and the staff.  These types of reports are critical to understanding what else was going on in terms of policy and procedural changes that might have impacted the quality of care available at the hospital. (Below: Proceedings of the Erie County Board of Supervisors, 1894, from the Buffalo and Erie County Public Library)

Why are we interested in the quality of care at the Erie County Hospital, you ask?  Well, we have determined that most of the individuals excavated from the Erie County Poorhouse Cemetery were likely not inmates of the poorhouse, but rather residents from the city of Buffalo who couldn't afford alternative health care.  We have been able to compare the diseases, injuries, and other conditions identified in the skeletons with those recorded in the hospital’s mortality index.  However, these data only allow some understanding of the people who died.  The Physician Reports also document those individuals who were treated and survived their ailments, therefore providing us with a more complete picture of the health issues experienced by the city’s poor and the health care available to them.

Having only been through 20 of the 30 reports, I had better stop blogging and finish collecting data! (Go Bills!)

A chance to give back

A great deal has happened since last we spoke!  I am pleased to report that I am able to check one thing off of my creative/scholarly "To Do" list.  We gave our presentation at the Museum of disABILITY History last Friday.  The idea of studying early urban poverty through the lens of disability is of great interest to me and I always enjoy comparing ideas with my new friends at the Museum.  There was a great crowd of interested and knowledgeable folks and they made the evening very enjoyable with their insights and thoughtful questions.  Many Buffalonians are very interested in our city's great history and some of them have been helpful in both my scholarly and creative pursuits.  I met one of the most brilliant and talented scholars of early Buffalo a few years ago.  She was interested in my work and contacted me about it.  We became fast friends and she has made significant contributions to just about every project I have worked on since then.

I finally got a chance over the weekend to visit the Research Library at the Buffalo History Museum.  I have been wanting to get back there ever since I found out that they now have the Proceedings of the Erie County Board of Supervisors for the period that the Erie County Poorhouse was at its original location in Black Rock.  There is not much known about the early history of the poorhouse.  Until now, we have only had the inmate records to study.  These Board of Supervisors Reports contain resolutions that were passed regarding the management of the poorhouse, budget issues and references to the reports filed by the Keeper of the Poor.  The only problem is that they are next to impossible to read!

Report of the Proceedings of the Erie County Board of Supervisors, 1830, from the Buffalo History Museum

The original documents are hand written, as opposed to the typed version in later years, and they only exist on microfilm, reverse negative microfilm, no less!  It is hard enough reading nineteenth century hand writing, let alone nineteenth century handwriting on reverse negative microfilm!  I was only able to get through the first three years before my head was spinning.  Needless to say, I need a new plan!  I learned that the level of detailed record keeping that we have been so impressed with during the later period of the poorhouse's history evidently evolved over time.  The resolutions passed in these early proceedings often refer to the need for more detailed reports and improvements in tracking items that were purchased for or produced at the asylum.  As yet, no actual report from the Keeper of the Poor, so I will be interested to note when they started to include the full Keeper's Report in the County Proceedings.  This will be a slow process and I will, of course keep you informed as I go!

Now on to a more personal topic.  In 2004 we lost our 11 year old son after a nearly year long battle with a rare form of pediatric cancer.  There are no words to describe that experience.  Over the ten years since he died, we have been stunned to realize that pediatric cancer gets very little public attention and even less money.  For years my husband and I have been searching for a way to make a meaningful contribution. September marks Pediatric Cancer Awareness Month.  Starting on September 1 and going through December 31, 2014 we will donate 100% of our profits from the sale of Orphans and Inmates to St. Jude Children's Research Hospital.  We have chosen St. Jude's because not only do they do pediatric cancer research, they also help the families who are in a battle for their children's lives.  It is our hope to raise some awareness and some money for a very important cause.

Orphans and Inmates is available on line at:

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00JZML4NG

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/orphans-and-inmates-rosanne-higgins/1119387444?ean=2940045859172

Locally the book is available at:

Floral Explorations

1448 Hertel Ave, Buffalo, NY 14216
(716) 838-4916

The Antique Lamp Company and Gift Emporium

1213 Hertel Ave, Buffalo, NY 14216

Dog Ears Bookstore and Café

688 Abbott Rd, Buffalo, NY 14220
(716) 823-2665

Talking Leaves

3158 Main St
Buffalo, NY
(716) 837-8554

Talking Leaves

951 Elmwood Ave
Buffalo, NY
(716) 884-9524

  

Old Editions Book Shop and Café

74 E Huron St, Buffalo, NY 14203
(716) 842-1734

The Buffalo History Museum

1 Museum Ct, Buffalo, NY 14216
(716) 873-9644

The Museum of disABILITY  History

3826 Main St
Buffalo, NY
(716) 629-3626