Look in your average American history book, and any reference you find to William Henry Seward will probably be because a) he negotiated the purchase of Alaska from Russia, and/or b) he was the Secretary of State under President Lincoln.
Few of those books would focus on Seward's abolitionists beliefs.
(For the record, I am not related to William Seward. Seward is my married name. My husband's grandfather Seward came from England in the early 1900's.)
William Henry Seward was born in Florida, New York, on May 16, 1801. His father, Samuel, was the town postmaster, and he was a slaveowner. At the time, slavery was legal in New York State; it was abolished in 1827. Seward went to school with the children of his father's slaves and later, he said he preferred the atmosphere of the slave kitchen to that of his father's parlor. Later, he wrote in his autobiography, "I early came to the conclusion that something was wrong with slavery and that determined me to be an abolitionist."
In 1820, he graduated from Union College. Two years later, he was admitted to the bar. After moving to Auburn, New York, he became a junior partner to Judge Elijah Miller. Soon, he would also be Miller's son-in-law. He fell in love and married Miller's daughter Frances. They both believed that slavery was wrong, and that was the core belief that brought them together.
Seward supported the rights of African-Americans and, throughout his career, stayed opposed to slavery. He called for a gradual ending of slavery throughout the United States; his wife, however, wanted immediate abolition and emancipation of all slaves. Both Sewards used their wealth to support the abolition movement, and they also financially supported Frederick Douglass' North Star newspaper, based in Rochester.
He served two terms as governor of New York, between 1839 and 1843, and it was during that time that he gained a national reputation as an outspoken abolitionist. When southern states asked for fugitive slaves to be returned, Seward refused.
Seward was elected to the Senate in 1849, and his repeated statements that slavery was morally wrong angered Southerners. While he acknowledged that, under the Constitution, slavery was legal, he denied that the Constitution recognized or protected slavery. In 1850, he remarked that "there is a higher law than the Constitution".
During the 1850's, the Sewards used their house at Auburn, New York as a safe house for runaway slaves. It was a deliberate act of civil disobedience. They used two rooms in the house as hiding places.
In 1859, the Sewards helped Harriet Tubman, who led hundreds of slaves to freedom, buy seven acres of land on their property. There, Tubman built a home where she lived until she died.
Seward's role as President Lincoln's Secretary of State is much better known. Seward didn't like Lincoln very much at first, but as they continued to work together, Seward came to respect Lincoln and was known as Lincoln's right-hand man. They became close friends because of their collaboration. He worked with Lincoln on the Emancipation Proclamation, and negotiated an 1862 treaty, the Lyons-Seward Treaty, which outlined measures by which the United States and Great Britian would end the Atlantic slave trade.
Abraham Lincoln was not the only one attacked on April 15, 1865. Lewis Powell, a confederate of John Wilkes Booth, was assigned to attack Seward as part of a plot that included killing Lincoln. Powell stabbed Seward, who was confined to bed due to a carriage accident, several times in the face and neck. Seward carried the scars for the rest of his life.
Seward would go on to serve as Secretary of State under President Andrew Johnson. He died on October 10, 1872. Thus ended the life of a man whose moral opposition to slavery helped end its practice.
Sources used:
McLean, Maggie, "Frances Seward", Civil War Women
"William Henry Seward", Seward House Historic Museum
Statcounter
Tuesday, February 2, 2016
Black History Month: Mae Jemison
Mae Jemison may have decided to become an astronaut because of . . . pus.
When Mae was a little girl, she got a splinter in her thumb, and the thumb became infected. She showed the thumb to her mother, who explained that that yellow stuff that was in her wound was pus.
"What's that?" Mae wondered.
Because her mother encouraged her to find out the answer for herself, she ended up doing an entire project on pus.
That curiosity and determination to learn answers molded her into engineer, doctor, and then the first African-American woman in space.
Mae Jemison was born in Decatur, Alabama on October 17, 1956, the daughter of a roofer/carpenter and an elementary school teacher. When she was three, her family moved to Chicago. She grew up in an atmopshere where she was supported and encouraged, as shown by how her mother handled the question about pus.
Jemison showed a talent not only for science but also for dance. In fact, during her childhood, she wanted to be a professional dancer. As she got older, she decided to become a biochemical engineer, and when she graduated from high school in 1973, she went to Stanford University.
Jemison was 16 when she went away to school. Only later did she realize that there were any issues associated with her being so young or with her parents being confident enough to send her so far away from home. She also had professors who were uncomfortable with a young black woman being in their classes. Even with that, though, she found her time at Stanford to be "wonderful and very positive" and believes that her not-so-positive experiences there made her a better person.
After graduating from Stanford, Jemison went on to Cornell Medical College. She earned her degree in 1981 and then joined the Peace Corps. Over the next few years, she traveled to places such as Cuba and Kenya and Thailand, giving medical care to those who needed it. She later served as a Peace Corps medical officer in Sierra Leone and Liberia.
So how and why did Mae Jemison make the leap from engineer and doctor to the astronaut program?
Because of Lieutenant Uhura.
Mae Jemison is a child of the '60's, and she was fascinated by the role Nichelle Nichols played in Star Trek as communications officer. Jemison says that "images show us possibilities", and that image, of a black woman involved in a scientific pursuit, planted a dream inside her to go into space.
She got her chance on June 4, 1987, the day she was admitted into the astronaut training program as its first African-American woman. Had the Challenger not blown up the previous year, she would have been admitted sooner. Her training earned her the title of "science mission specialist", responsible for conducting scientific experiments on the space shuttle.
Five years after beginning her training, on September 12, 1992, Mae Jemison sat at the top of the space shuttle Endeavour and listened as NASA counted down, "Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . and, liftoff!" That liftoff put her into history as the first African-American woman to go into space.
Before that liftoff, she telephoned Nichelle Nichols and thanked her for inspiring her to become an astronaut, and then promised her that, during her time in space, she'd do something that fans of Star Trek would appreciate. She began each shift with the words, "Hailing frequencies open," the line Lieutenant Uhura used in her duties as the fictional USS Enterprise's communication officer. She spent eight days in space, conducting experiments on weightlessness and motion sickness on the crew and on herself as well.
Jemison left NASA in 1993. Since then, she's taught at Dartmouth and Cornell Universities, and she's formed her own consulting company, the Jemison Group, which researches and develops advanced technologies. And she's traveled around the United States speaking about her experiences as astronaut and scientist.
And it all happened because a little girl who was curious about her infected finger was encouraged to go find out the answer.
Sources used:
"Dr. Mae Jemison interview," Scholastic.com
"Mae C. Jemison", Biography.com
Katz, Jesse. "Shooting Star: Former Astronaut Mae Jemison Brings Her Message Down to Earth." Stanford Today, July/August, 1996.
Greene, Nick. "Mae Jemison: First African-American Woman Astronaut." About.com
When Mae was a little girl, she got a splinter in her thumb, and the thumb became infected. She showed the thumb to her mother, who explained that that yellow stuff that was in her wound was pus.
"What's that?" Mae wondered.
Because her mother encouraged her to find out the answer for herself, she ended up doing an entire project on pus.
That curiosity and determination to learn answers molded her into engineer, doctor, and then the first African-American woman in space.
Mae Jemison was born in Decatur, Alabama on October 17, 1956, the daughter of a roofer/carpenter and an elementary school teacher. When she was three, her family moved to Chicago. She grew up in an atmopshere where she was supported and encouraged, as shown by how her mother handled the question about pus.
Jemison showed a talent not only for science but also for dance. In fact, during her childhood, she wanted to be a professional dancer. As she got older, she decided to become a biochemical engineer, and when she graduated from high school in 1973, she went to Stanford University.
Jemison was 16 when she went away to school. Only later did she realize that there were any issues associated with her being so young or with her parents being confident enough to send her so far away from home. She also had professors who were uncomfortable with a young black woman being in their classes. Even with that, though, she found her time at Stanford to be "wonderful and very positive" and believes that her not-so-positive experiences there made her a better person.
After graduating from Stanford, Jemison went on to Cornell Medical College. She earned her degree in 1981 and then joined the Peace Corps. Over the next few years, she traveled to places such as Cuba and Kenya and Thailand, giving medical care to those who needed it. She later served as a Peace Corps medical officer in Sierra Leone and Liberia.
So how and why did Mae Jemison make the leap from engineer and doctor to the astronaut program?
Because of Lieutenant Uhura.
Mae Jemison is a child of the '60's, and she was fascinated by the role Nichelle Nichols played in Star Trek as communications officer. Jemison says that "images show us possibilities", and that image, of a black woman involved in a scientific pursuit, planted a dream inside her to go into space.
She got her chance on June 4, 1987, the day she was admitted into the astronaut training program as its first African-American woman. Had the Challenger not blown up the previous year, she would have been admitted sooner. Her training earned her the title of "science mission specialist", responsible for conducting scientific experiments on the space shuttle.
Five years after beginning her training, on September 12, 1992, Mae Jemison sat at the top of the space shuttle Endeavour and listened as NASA counted down, "Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . and, liftoff!" That liftoff put her into history as the first African-American woman to go into space.
Before that liftoff, she telephoned Nichelle Nichols and thanked her for inspiring her to become an astronaut, and then promised her that, during her time in space, she'd do something that fans of Star Trek would appreciate. She began each shift with the words, "Hailing frequencies open," the line Lieutenant Uhura used in her duties as the fictional USS Enterprise's communication officer. She spent eight days in space, conducting experiments on weightlessness and motion sickness on the crew and on herself as well.
Jemison left NASA in 1993. Since then, she's taught at Dartmouth and Cornell Universities, and she's formed her own consulting company, the Jemison Group, which researches and develops advanced technologies. And she's traveled around the United States speaking about her experiences as astronaut and scientist.
And it all happened because a little girl who was curious about her infected finger was encouraged to go find out the answer.
Sources used:
"Dr. Mae Jemison interview," Scholastic.com
"Mae C. Jemison", Biography.com
Katz, Jesse. "Shooting Star: Former Astronaut Mae Jemison Brings Her Message Down to Earth." Stanford Today, July/August, 1996.
Greene, Nick. "Mae Jemison: First African-American Woman Astronaut." About.com
Monday, February 1, 2016
Manic Monday: Annnnd they're off!
Tonight is the Iowa caucus, the kickoff of the political season. If you live there, go caucus!
This year we desperately need participation in the political process. And in my opinion, if you don't vote, you have no right to complain about the government you get.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
This year we desperately need participation in the political process. And in my opinion, if you don't vote, you have no right to complain about the government you get.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Black History Month: William Lloyd Garrison
"I am in earnest -- I will not equivocate -- I will not excuse -- I will not retreat a single inch -- AND I WILL BE HEARD."
With those words, on January 1, 1831, William Lloyd Garrison threw down the gauntlet.
He opened the year of 1831 with the first issue of The Liberator, a newsletter that came out of New England. The cause he was so earnest about, and from which he wouldn't retreat? The end of slavery.
It is said that "the pen is mightier that the sword", and although William Lloyd Garrison wasn't using a literal pen in publishing The Liberator, his "penned" words helped fight and win the battle to end slavery in the United States.
He was born December 10, 1805 in Newburyport, Massachusetts. When he was three, his father abandoned the family, and Garrison and his siblings were raised by his mother. At 13, he began an apprenticeship as a writer and editor under the editor of the Newburyport Herald. Two other attempts, at shoemaking and cabinetmaking, had ended in failure. Young Garrison's true gift lay not in physical labor, but in the use of words.
He was 20 when he finished his apprenticeship, and he bought a newspaper, renamed it the Newburyport Free Press, and started writing. The paper went out of business after six months, and Garrison then moved to Boston.
While working as printer and editor, Garrison met Benjamin Lundy, editor of the Genius of Emancipation. Lundy was a Quaker, and he'd been raised to oppose violence and the enslavement of others. Lundy was 19 and living in Wheeling, Virginia (now West Virginia) when he became aware of slavery's brutality, and determined to be a part of ending slavery.
Lundy offered Garrison a job at his paper, and Garrison accepted. The job was Garrison's initiation into the abolitionist movement.
As part of Garrison's involvement with abolition, he'd joined the American Colonization Society. He believed, at first, that the group's goal--to have blacks move to the west coast of Africa--was a worthy cause. But the longer he remained a member, the more he realized what the group really wanted. They wanted fewer free slaves in the United States. Encouraging free blacks to go to Africa, Garrison concluded, would only support slavery.
So he left the American Colonization Society and started his own paper. That paper, The Liberator, was responsible for Garrison's reputation as an abolitionist. His goal: show people that slavery is immoral. Once they see slavery is immoral, they'll join you in helping you end it. Garrison needed plenty of help in his effort, and one source of that help was free African-Americans, who made up about 75 percent of his readers.
Garrison paid a heavy price for his earnestness and his insistence on being heard.
In 1833, Garrison founded the American Antislavery Society, dedicated to the cause of abolition. But since he was a pacifist, and he wasn't willing to take political action to achieve his goals, several people left his group and formed their own organization.
On one occasion, in Boston, he was dragged through the streets and almost killed.
Someone placed a bounty of $4,000 on his head.
In 1854, he burned a copy of the US Constitution because it allowed slavery. He also wanted the Union to be dissolved, rather than saved; and called for the North to secede from the United States and sever all ties with the South.
But he continued to publish, and to speak, and to be heard. Thirty-five years later, after 1,820 issues, Garrison published the final issue of The Liberator in December, 1865, proclaiming "my vocation as an abolitionist is ended". He hadn't missed a single issue. He'd lived long enough to see the 13th Amendment passed, outlawing slavery forever.
Garrison swore that he would not equivocate, he would not excuse, he would not retreat, and he would be heard.
And in the end, he was.
Garrison paid a heavy price for his earnestness and his insistence on being heard.
In 1833, Garrison founded the American Antislavery Society, dedicated to the cause of abolition. But since he was a pacifist, and he wasn't willing to take political action to achieve his goals, several people left his group and formed their own organization.
On one occasion, in Boston, he was dragged through the streets and almost killed.
Someone placed a bounty of $4,000 on his head.
In 1854, he burned a copy of the US Constitution because it allowed slavery. He also wanted the Union to be dissolved, rather than saved; and called for the North to secede from the United States and sever all ties with the South.
But he continued to publish, and to speak, and to be heard. Thirty-five years later, after 1,820 issues, Garrison published the final issue of The Liberator in December, 1865, proclaiming "my vocation as an abolitionist is ended". He hadn't missed a single issue. He'd lived long enough to see the 13th Amendment passed, outlawing slavery forever.
Garrison swore that he would not equivocate, he would not excuse, he would not retreat, and he would be heard.
And in the end, he was.
Sources used:
Black History Month: Charles Drew
Let's clear up one myth right now: Charles Drew, a black man, did not die because a white hospital refused to treat him.
It's understandable how such a story got started, because in 1950, the year he died, the South was still under the thumb of Jim Crow, and Charles Drew died in North Carolina.
There is an irony to his death, but it's not that he, a black doctor, was refused treatment at a white hospital. It is that he, the man that helped in developing blood banks, who performed research into blood transfusions, was unable to be helped by his own work.
Before we talk about the end of his life, let's review the life he lived.
Charles Richard Drew, the son of a carpet layer, was born on June 3, 1904, in Washington, D.C. He grew up in Foggy Bottom, a Washington neighborhood now mostly occupied by the campus of George Washington University.
As a child and later, as a high school student, Drew excelled as an athlete. He swam, played football, basketball, and other sports. He graduated from Dunbar High school in 1922, and his talent and athletic accomplishments earned him a scholarship to Amherst College. At Amherst, he played football and ran track, which earned him the Mossman trophy as "the man who contributed the most to athletics for four years".
He wanted to become a doctor, but did not have the money to pursue medical studies. So he went to Baltimore and joined the faculty of Morgan State College (now Morgan State University). For two years, he taught biology and worked as a coach, passing on his knowledge to his students in the classroom and on the athletic fields.
In 1928, he applied to medical school and began his studies in Montreal, at McGill University. During the five years Drew attended medical school, he joined Omega Psi Phi, became an Alpha Omega Alpha Scholar, and won the J. Francis Williams Fellowship, the result of a exam given to the top five students in his graduating class. When Drew graduated from McGill in 1933, he was number two in his graduating class.
Drew taught pathology at Howard University, then became an instructor in surgery and assistant surgeon at Freedman's Hospital, which was associated with Howard. In 1938, he received a Rockefeller fellowship in surgery and started post-graduate work at Columbia University, which awarded him a Doctor of Science in Surgery.
Dr. Charles Drew is mainly associated with the area of blood storage and blood transfusion. What sparked his interest? It may have been during his years at McGill, where he saved a man's life by giving him a blood transfusion. In a child's biography of Dr. Drew that I read years ago, the author said that as Drew watched his blood flow out, he saw that "his blood wasn't black. It was red." He then told the people doing the transfusion: "Take all you need. Beans make good blood."
Whether it was that event, or other events, or just something that made him think, Drew began study of techniques of preserving blood. He learned that when you separated blood plasma (the liquid part of blood, which is a pale amber color) from whole blood (where red blood cells exist), and then refrigerate them separately, you could combine them for a blood transfusion up to a week later. Blood, prior to this, couldn't be stored for more than two days because red blood cells break down rapidly. Drew also learned that while people have different blood types, we all have the same type of plasma. This is why you can donate plasma to someone with a different blood type than yours.
Drew's work and research resulted in the following: his doctoral thesis, entitled "Banked Blood", and a blood bank at Columbia University. He became the first African American to receive a Doctor of Medical Science degree from Columbia.
His work came just in time. With World War II on the horizon, never before had there been such a vital need for blood and blood preservation.
World War II began on September 1, 1939, with Germany's invasion of Poland. Twenty-eight days later, Drew married Lenore Robbins. They would go on to have four children. Not long after his marriage, Drew, because he was the authority in the field of preserving blood, became the director of the Blood for Britian project. He was the supervisor of the Blood Transfusion Association of New York City, and as part of his job, he provided plasma to Britian's blood bank.
Later, Drew was named as a project director for the American Red Cross, the one organization that the US and the world associates with the collection of blood.
But, despite the fact that blood is red no matter who it comes from, the War Department ordered that blood be segregated. Blood from white donors would be separated from that of black donors. d Cross but soon resigned his post after the United States War Department issued a directive that blood taken from White donors should be segregated from that of Black donors. Later, the military said that blood taken from African Americans could be used--but only for African-American soldiers.
Charles Drew was outraged. And so, in the face of the racism of the military, he resigned his post after only a few months.
Between 1942 and 1950, Drew built a career for himself as surgeon and instructor. He headed Howard University's Department of Surgery and was Chief of Surgery at Freedmen's Hospital; later becoming the hospital's chief of staff and medical director.
He received numerous honors and accolades:
--An honorary degree of Doctor of Science from Virginia State College and Amherst College
--Fellow of the International College of Surgeons
--The E.S. Jones Award for research in medical science
--The first African-American to be appointed an examiner by the American Board of Surgery
--Surgical consultant for the US Army's European theatre
In 1948, the NAACP awarded Drew its Spingarn Medal for outstanding achievement by an African-American. His work in blood plasma earned him this honor. (Neurosurgeon Ben Carson is also a recipient of this award.)
Charles Drew died at the age of 45, as the result of an automobile accident in North Carolina. He, and three resident doctors from Howard University, were traveling to Tuskegee, Alabama to give a lecture. Apparently, Drew fell asleep at the wheel. The car ran off the road, he was thrown from the car, and the vehicle rolled over him. His leg was nearly severed, and he sustained massive chest injuries, brain damage, a broken neck, and blood flow to his heart was completely blocked.
He was raced to a nearby hospital in Burlington, North Carolina, but it was too late. According to one website, Drew did receive a blood transfusion, but he was beyond medical help by that time. After Drew's death, his family wrote to the doctors that tried and failed to save his life, expressing their appreciation for their help.
In the biography of Drew I read as a child, the author said that Drew had gotten a new pair of shoes right before the trip to Tuskegee. He never got to wear those shoes. He was buried in them.
Almost immediately, the rumors started: "They took him to a whites-only hospital and the hospital wouldn't give him a blood transfusion." The TV show MASH repeated that rumor on one episode, and probably helped to perpetuate the story. Given the circumstances of 1950, and the location of Drew's accident--North Carolina, the South, where segregation ruled--it was a story that very likely could have been true. Drew, as stated above, did have an experience with racism when he briefly worked with the Red Cross, and no doubt, he suffered more experiences of racism throughout his life. The circumstances of his death are tragic enough without adding a layer of rumor on top of them.
It is because of Dr. Charles Drew that I was able to donate plasma to someone who had cancer and needed the plasma badly. It's because of him that the term "blood bank" entered the American lexicon. Because of his blood storage techniques, countless lives over the years have been saved, including that of my minister.
One slogan that is used in encouraging blood donation is "give the gift of life". We all can do that, thanks to Charles Drew.
Sources used:
Jim Crow Museum, Question Of the Month: The Truth About the Death of Charles Drew (hosted by Ferris State University)
Biography.com: Charles Drew Biography - Doctor, Surgeon
Charles R. Drew University of Medicine and Science - About Dr. Charles R. Drew
Omega Psi Phi, Official Website: Famous Omega Men, Science
The Black Inventor On-Line Museum: Charles Drew
It's understandable how such a story got started, because in 1950, the year he died, the South was still under the thumb of Jim Crow, and Charles Drew died in North Carolina.
There is an irony to his death, but it's not that he, a black doctor, was refused treatment at a white hospital. It is that he, the man that helped in developing blood banks, who performed research into blood transfusions, was unable to be helped by his own work.
Before we talk about the end of his life, let's review the life he lived.
Charles Richard Drew, the son of a carpet layer, was born on June 3, 1904, in Washington, D.C. He grew up in Foggy Bottom, a Washington neighborhood now mostly occupied by the campus of George Washington University.
As a child and later, as a high school student, Drew excelled as an athlete. He swam, played football, basketball, and other sports. He graduated from Dunbar High school in 1922, and his talent and athletic accomplishments earned him a scholarship to Amherst College. At Amherst, he played football and ran track, which earned him the Mossman trophy as "the man who contributed the most to athletics for four years".
He wanted to become a doctor, but did not have the money to pursue medical studies. So he went to Baltimore and joined the faculty of Morgan State College (now Morgan State University). For two years, he taught biology and worked as a coach, passing on his knowledge to his students in the classroom and on the athletic fields.
In 1928, he applied to medical school and began his studies in Montreal, at McGill University. During the five years Drew attended medical school, he joined Omega Psi Phi, became an Alpha Omega Alpha Scholar, and won the J. Francis Williams Fellowship, the result of a exam given to the top five students in his graduating class. When Drew graduated from McGill in 1933, he was number two in his graduating class.
Drew taught pathology at Howard University, then became an instructor in surgery and assistant surgeon at Freedman's Hospital, which was associated with Howard. In 1938, he received a Rockefeller fellowship in surgery and started post-graduate work at Columbia University, which awarded him a Doctor of Science in Surgery.
Dr. Charles Drew is mainly associated with the area of blood storage and blood transfusion. What sparked his interest? It may have been during his years at McGill, where he saved a man's life by giving him a blood transfusion. In a child's biography of Dr. Drew that I read years ago, the author said that as Drew watched his blood flow out, he saw that "his blood wasn't black. It was red." He then told the people doing the transfusion: "Take all you need. Beans make good blood."
Whether it was that event, or other events, or just something that made him think, Drew began study of techniques of preserving blood. He learned that when you separated blood plasma (the liquid part of blood, which is a pale amber color) from whole blood (where red blood cells exist), and then refrigerate them separately, you could combine them for a blood transfusion up to a week later. Blood, prior to this, couldn't be stored for more than two days because red blood cells break down rapidly. Drew also learned that while people have different blood types, we all have the same type of plasma. This is why you can donate plasma to someone with a different blood type than yours.
Drew's work and research resulted in the following: his doctoral thesis, entitled "Banked Blood", and a blood bank at Columbia University. He became the first African American to receive a Doctor of Medical Science degree from Columbia.
His work came just in time. With World War II on the horizon, never before had there been such a vital need for blood and blood preservation.
World War II began on September 1, 1939, with Germany's invasion of Poland. Twenty-eight days later, Drew married Lenore Robbins. They would go on to have four children. Not long after his marriage, Drew, because he was the authority in the field of preserving blood, became the director of the Blood for Britian project. He was the supervisor of the Blood Transfusion Association of New York City, and as part of his job, he provided plasma to Britian's blood bank.
Later, Drew was named as a project director for the American Red Cross, the one organization that the US and the world associates with the collection of blood.
But, despite the fact that blood is red no matter who it comes from, the War Department ordered that blood be segregated. Blood from white donors would be separated from that of black donors. d Cross but soon resigned his post after the United States War Department issued a directive that blood taken from White donors should be segregated from that of Black donors. Later, the military said that blood taken from African Americans could be used--but only for African-American soldiers.
Charles Drew was outraged. And so, in the face of the racism of the military, he resigned his post after only a few months.
Between 1942 and 1950, Drew built a career for himself as surgeon and instructor. He headed Howard University's Department of Surgery and was Chief of Surgery at Freedmen's Hospital; later becoming the hospital's chief of staff and medical director.
He received numerous honors and accolades:
--An honorary degree of Doctor of Science from Virginia State College and Amherst College
--Fellow of the International College of Surgeons
--The E.S. Jones Award for research in medical science
--The first African-American to be appointed an examiner by the American Board of Surgery
--Surgical consultant for the US Army's European theatre
In 1948, the NAACP awarded Drew its Spingarn Medal for outstanding achievement by an African-American. His work in blood plasma earned him this honor. (Neurosurgeon Ben Carson is also a recipient of this award.)
Charles Drew died at the age of 45, as the result of an automobile accident in North Carolina. He, and three resident doctors from Howard University, were traveling to Tuskegee, Alabama to give a lecture. Apparently, Drew fell asleep at the wheel. The car ran off the road, he was thrown from the car, and the vehicle rolled over him. His leg was nearly severed, and he sustained massive chest injuries, brain damage, a broken neck, and blood flow to his heart was completely blocked.
He was raced to a nearby hospital in Burlington, North Carolina, but it was too late. According to one website, Drew did receive a blood transfusion, but he was beyond medical help by that time. After Drew's death, his family wrote to the doctors that tried and failed to save his life, expressing their appreciation for their help.
In the biography of Drew I read as a child, the author said that Drew had gotten a new pair of shoes right before the trip to Tuskegee. He never got to wear those shoes. He was buried in them.
Almost immediately, the rumors started: "They took him to a whites-only hospital and the hospital wouldn't give him a blood transfusion." The TV show MASH repeated that rumor on one episode, and probably helped to perpetuate the story. Given the circumstances of 1950, and the location of Drew's accident--North Carolina, the South, where segregation ruled--it was a story that very likely could have been true. Drew, as stated above, did have an experience with racism when he briefly worked with the Red Cross, and no doubt, he suffered more experiences of racism throughout his life. The circumstances of his death are tragic enough without adding a layer of rumor on top of them.
It is because of Dr. Charles Drew that I was able to donate plasma to someone who had cancer and needed the plasma badly. It's because of him that the term "blood bank" entered the American lexicon. Because of his blood storage techniques, countless lives over the years have been saved, including that of my minister.
One slogan that is used in encouraging blood donation is "give the gift of life". We all can do that, thanks to Charles Drew.
Sources used:
Jim Crow Museum, Question Of the Month: The Truth About the Death of Charles Drew (hosted by Ferris State University)
Biography.com: Charles Drew Biography - Doctor, Surgeon
Charles R. Drew University of Medicine and Science - About Dr. Charles R. Drew
Omega Psi Phi, Official Website: Famous Omega Men, Science
The Black Inventor On-Line Museum: Charles Drew
Sunday, January 31, 2016
Black History Month: Off the Beaten Path
Tomorrow is the beginning of Black History Month, or African-American History Month.
Quick, name me a famous African-American!
Odds are, you just said Martin Luther King. Or Barack Obama. Or the name of an African-American in the entertainment industry, or in professional athletics.
I want to change that. I want you to think of some other people, not necessarily the "go-to" people we think of when we think of famous African-Americans. Several years ago, I thought about what I would do if I were a teacher during Black History Month. What I decided I'd do was to give my students two assignments:
1. Research and write about a famous or accomplished African-American. You may not write about any of the following:
a. Martin Luther King or any member of the King family.
b. Barack Obama or any member of the Obama family.
c. Any professional athlete.
d. Anyone in the film, TV, or music business.
2. Research and write about whites who were active in either the abolitionist movement or the Civil Rights movement.
The reason for the first assignment? To give my students an idea of African-Americans that are famous or accomplished and who are not sports, entertainment, or athletic stars; or who are not Martin Luther King or Barack Obama.
The reason for the second assignment? To show my students that white people are not necessarily "the enemy" when it comes to black people.
I'm not a teacher, so I can't give that assignment. But I am a writer, and I asked myself: why not write up a series of blog posts about this very subject?
So this month, I will be writing a series of posts going "off the beaten path", as it were, profiling some African-Americans that aren't as well known as Martin Luther King, or Barack Obama. I'll be talking about scientists, amateur athletes, preachers, and other such people. I'll also be writing about white people who sided with African-Americans in their struggle for freedom.
At the end of the month, I'm sure I will have learned a great deal.
I hope you will, too.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Quick, name me a famous African-American!
Odds are, you just said Martin Luther King. Or Barack Obama. Or the name of an African-American in the entertainment industry, or in professional athletics.
I want to change that. I want you to think of some other people, not necessarily the "go-to" people we think of when we think of famous African-Americans. Several years ago, I thought about what I would do if I were a teacher during Black History Month. What I decided I'd do was to give my students two assignments:
1. Research and write about a famous or accomplished African-American. You may not write about any of the following:
a. Martin Luther King or any member of the King family.
b. Barack Obama or any member of the Obama family.
c. Any professional athlete.
d. Anyone in the film, TV, or music business.
2. Research and write about whites who were active in either the abolitionist movement or the Civil Rights movement.
The reason for the first assignment? To give my students an idea of African-Americans that are famous or accomplished and who are not sports, entertainment, or athletic stars; or who are not Martin Luther King or Barack Obama.
The reason for the second assignment? To show my students that white people are not necessarily "the enemy" when it comes to black people.
I'm not a teacher, so I can't give that assignment. But I am a writer, and I asked myself: why not write up a series of blog posts about this very subject?
So this month, I will be writing a series of posts going "off the beaten path", as it were, profiling some African-Americans that aren't as well known as Martin Luther King, or Barack Obama. I'll be talking about scientists, amateur athletes, preachers, and other such people. I'll also be writing about white people who sided with African-Americans in their struggle for freedom.
At the end of the month, I'm sure I will have learned a great deal.
I hope you will, too.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
Friday, January 29, 2016
Family Friday: Hubert, Elmer, and me
I recently wrote a blog post about living with obsessive-compulsive disorder. The form I deal with is called "pure O", the obsessive thoughts without the compulsive actions.
An OCD discussion group I sometimes post in suggested, "Give your OCD a really wimpy name," as a way to lessen the power of the OCD.
So I named my OCD Hubert. (My apologies to anyone who reads this and who really is named Hubert.)
A few days ago, I wondered if the same strategy would work with my depression.
So I named my depression Elmer.
Hubert and Elmer's mission (and they have definitely accepted it) is to make my life as miserable as possible. They've been around since I was about 14. The first time I remember feeling sad enough to be depressed was when I was about 14, and I think it may have been either that same year or the next when I started dealing with the OCD.
Hubert's strategy is to attack me with vulgar, disgusting thoughts. For years, I fought him, and I felt embarrassed to admit that yes, I thought that way. Now I'm trying to accept the fact that yes, I have those thoughts. And sometimes, I take those thoughts to extremes. "Oh, you want me to think swear words in church? Okay. Not only will I think swear words in church, I'll say them. I'll stand up and interrupt my minister's sermon with the most vulgar speech I can think of. Our ushers will politely ask me to leave, and when I keep swearing, they'll have me forcibly removed, they'll call the police, and have me arrested for disorderly conduct. Take that, Hubert!"
The idea is to take the thoughts to an extreme conclusion and thus, reduce their power. Paradoxically, the more you fight the thoughts, the more they reoccur, and the more anxiety that surrounds them . . . which leads to compulsions to get rid of the thoughts, which makes you feel better for a while . . . until the thoughts return, along with the anxiety, which leads to the compulsions . . .
No, I do not plan to start swearing in the middle of church. Nor do I plan on following through with other thoughts. Thoughts are just that--they are thoughts, and the fact that they drop into a person's head isn't a sin. Pursuing those thoughts and planning to act on them . . . that's when it gets dangerous. (And if those thoughts are suicidal thoughts, that may be a signal to get help, pronto.)
Elmer likes to convince me that I am worthless, bad, unlovable and ugly. I think he's behind my favorite self-insult: "Idiot!" He's unfortunately had plenty of ammunition from childhood bullies and spiritual abusers, and he's also helped by the chemical makeup of my brain.
He and Hubert work together to paralyze, demoralize, and deingrate me. They are uninvited, unwelcome tenants who don't even bother to pay rent. Instead, they demand payment from me in the form of sleepless nights, worthless feelings, negative self-talk, and other forms of self-debasement.
My weapons against them include medication, which works to change my brain chemistry; surrounding myself with supportive people, attempting--as much as possible--to avoid negative stimuli, and using humor.
Some days, Hubert and Elmer win the fight and go snickering off into the darkness and slap high-fives with each other. Then, I have to go and reload my ammunition in preparation for the next battle.
But, there are the days when I get to win and they get to run off like a cowardly dog!
As long as I live, I suspect that Hubert, Elmer and I will do this dysfunctional dance of depression and OCD. Then at death, they get booted down to hell, where they belong, forever to be tortured in the lake of fire.
In the meantime, I think my stockpile of humor and positive stimuli is running low. Let me see about replenishing my supply.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
An OCD discussion group I sometimes post in suggested, "Give your OCD a really wimpy name," as a way to lessen the power of the OCD.
So I named my OCD Hubert. (My apologies to anyone who reads this and who really is named Hubert.)
A few days ago, I wondered if the same strategy would work with my depression.
So I named my depression Elmer.
Hubert and Elmer's mission (and they have definitely accepted it) is to make my life as miserable as possible. They've been around since I was about 14. The first time I remember feeling sad enough to be depressed was when I was about 14, and I think it may have been either that same year or the next when I started dealing with the OCD.
Hubert's strategy is to attack me with vulgar, disgusting thoughts. For years, I fought him, and I felt embarrassed to admit that yes, I thought that way. Now I'm trying to accept the fact that yes, I have those thoughts. And sometimes, I take those thoughts to extremes. "Oh, you want me to think swear words in church? Okay. Not only will I think swear words in church, I'll say them. I'll stand up and interrupt my minister's sermon with the most vulgar speech I can think of. Our ushers will politely ask me to leave, and when I keep swearing, they'll have me forcibly removed, they'll call the police, and have me arrested for disorderly conduct. Take that, Hubert!"
The idea is to take the thoughts to an extreme conclusion and thus, reduce their power. Paradoxically, the more you fight the thoughts, the more they reoccur, and the more anxiety that surrounds them . . . which leads to compulsions to get rid of the thoughts, which makes you feel better for a while . . . until the thoughts return, along with the anxiety, which leads to the compulsions . . .
No, I do not plan to start swearing in the middle of church. Nor do I plan on following through with other thoughts. Thoughts are just that--they are thoughts, and the fact that they drop into a person's head isn't a sin. Pursuing those thoughts and planning to act on them . . . that's when it gets dangerous. (And if those thoughts are suicidal thoughts, that may be a signal to get help, pronto.)
Elmer likes to convince me that I am worthless, bad, unlovable and ugly. I think he's behind my favorite self-insult: "Idiot!" He's unfortunately had plenty of ammunition from childhood bullies and spiritual abusers, and he's also helped by the chemical makeup of my brain.
He and Hubert work together to paralyze, demoralize, and deingrate me. They are uninvited, unwelcome tenants who don't even bother to pay rent. Instead, they demand payment from me in the form of sleepless nights, worthless feelings, negative self-talk, and other forms of self-debasement.
My weapons against them include medication, which works to change my brain chemistry; surrounding myself with supportive people, attempting--as much as possible--to avoid negative stimuli, and using humor.
Some days, Hubert and Elmer win the fight and go snickering off into the darkness and slap high-fives with each other. Then, I have to go and reload my ammunition in preparation for the next battle.
But, there are the days when I get to win and they get to run off like a cowardly dog!
As long as I live, I suspect that Hubert, Elmer and I will do this dysfunctional dance of depression and OCD. Then at death, they get booted down to hell, where they belong, forever to be tortured in the lake of fire.
In the meantime, I think my stockpile of humor and positive stimuli is running low. Let me see about replenishing my supply.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.
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