It is an innovation for the physicians of any community to protest in a
body against prostitution solely on the ground that it is a menace to
public health. Yet this has happened in Norwich, a village of 8,000
people in Chenango County, New York.
[Illustration:
_Newburgh, N. Y., Journal_
“I SEE BY THE PAPERS—”
]
Several months ago, Dr. Paul B. Brooks of Norwich, at a meeting of a
district branch of The New York State Medical Society presented a paper
on the Relation of the General Practitioner to the Prevalence of Veneral
Diseases. In it he declared that the medical profession possessed
information which, if frankly revealed, would bring about widespread
reforms. Through their inactivity, he said, doctors are more responsible
than any other class of citizens for the prevalence of veneral diseases.
He asserted that a large percentage of infections of this class could be
traced, directly or indirectly, to the public prostitute; that
prostitution is, in no sense, a “necessary evil,” and that if “the
people demand it,” then the moral sense of “the people” is open to
criticism. He believed that the police of any community, large or small,
if given power to drive out prostitutes, would be able to protect
virtuous women.
Shortly after this some eight or ten physicians, assembled for a meeting
of the Physician’s Club of Norwich, fell to comparing notes on the
prevalence of veneral diseases in the community. The result was
startling. Six or seven houses of prostitution, running openly and
apparently without restriction, were turning out dozens of men, and even
boys of school age, prepared to spread the scourge among innocent women,
and through them, to generations unborn. A large number of the inmates
of establishments were known to be actually infected.
The situation impressed these physicians as being so serious that they
determined to call a special meeting of the club and to invite the town
and village authorities to confer with them. In the meantime they
considered the various possibilities, including intervention by the
Board of Health, medical inspection, etc. In the end they decided that
there was but one feasible plan—to attempt the elimination of public
prostitution or at least all but such as was clandestinely practised.
They regarded it as their duty to advise, and demand, if necessary, the
removal of the obvious breeding grounds for disease.
When the local authorities met these physicians, some were skeptical as
to the results which would follow from such an attempt, though nearly
all agreed that the situation was serious enough to demand vigorous
action. The village attorney, who had openly opposed public prostitution
for many years, after hearing the evidence, declared: “If the fathers of
this town were to hear the evidence put before us by these physicians
they would mob these place, and discredit every one of us!” Some of the
establishments had been in operation for twenty years, and were regarded
as fixtures. It was said that they “made business”—certain it was that
many physicians had found the inmates regular and remunerative clients,
and that all had shared in the income from treatment of the diseases
which they bred. Some officials feared that public sentiment would not
support radical action and that the morals of innocent boys and girls
would be injured by having their attention called to conditions which
perhaps had escaped their notice. On the other hand they found
themselves in an unusual position—they were confronted by practically
all the local physicians, standing shoulder to shoulder in a demand for
drastic action.
Finally, these physicians brought the officials to their way of
thinking. They voted unanimously to clean out the “red light” district,
and proceeded at once and vigorously. In a month they had closed up
every known establishment, and had rid the town of a number of street
walkers. Greatly to their surprise, they found that public sentiment
strongly approved of their action. Since then there has been a reduction
of at least 75 per cent in number of the new cases of venereal
infection.
After the establishments within the corporation limits had been closed,
there was one house without the village jurisdiction, which remained in
operation for a short time. During that period, every new case, so far
as is known that came to a local physician, could be traced to that
establishment. The district attorney collected evidence, including the
testimony of a young man who had been infected, presented it to the
Grand Jury, and an indictment followed. A few weeks later, the
proprietor committed suicide. There has been scarcely a new case since.
“This town of ours,” says a local physician “is just an average town, no
better and no worse than other towns similar in size and environment.
The physicians, likewise, are average physicians. What we have
accomplished can be accomplished elsewhere, assuming that our results
are worth while.”