Ramshackled again.

I have arrived.

For what it is worth, I am finished.

I am sending this journal to a dear old friend; one who I know will spread the truth.

Farewell.

A Slap in the Face

I have, yet again, been scandalized.

I have, yet again, been transfered.

It appears that if they can’t shut you up, they will move you so far away that nobody can hear you scream. In traditional Wyman fashion, I was given three weeks to move my family to Detroit, where I will assume control of the quarantine station there.

To hell with everything. To hell with the government, the newspapers, and the treacherous doctors who spread lies and deceit through the populace. Upon certification, I took an oath and swore to protect the public at every moment in my life. These medical experts who falsify health reports and declare pneumonia are traitors to everything I have ever held dear. Their “cholera du chink”, a new disease, will be the downfall of their practice.

And for the love of god and all that is holy, I have been accused of attempted murder. I can only assume this is a farce, a joke, an unholy trial from which I am unable to emerge victorious.

These ignorant low-brow military soldiers mistook a deaf-mute fisherman for an escaped convict, and fired three shots at him. I heard the commotion in the water, and ventured to find him in the sea – had I not done so, he would have surely perished. At any rate, I refused to be arrested by anyone other than a U.S. Marshall.

This whole matter is part of a plan of certain parties who will go to any extreme in order to place me in a false light.

I must go. This place is sickening, my gut is wrenching with pain, and the air is too thick to breath. Fog may cover the harbour, yet nothing is as thick or noxious as the toxic fumes which blanket the city and corrupt all that is good, all that is pure, and all that is healthy. It is with a heavy heart that I must hang my hat, and bid this city adieu.

I am exhausted.

Absolute Shambles

Everything has turned into a complete disaster.

They found plague! They found it! For the love of god, they even contracted it themselves!!

After combing the streets of Chinatown, it was determined that SIX out of THIRTEEN DEATHS were undoubtedly due to the bubonic plague. The report was filed, and sent to Wyman, but I fear that it will never reach the ears of the public.

It is through very reliable sources that I was informed of a secret conference which was held between the Souther Pacific, Presdient Pacific Mail Steamship Company, the managers of two leading dailies and the governor of California. The result of this conference was that no paper in San Francisco is to make mention of our test results, whatever they may be, and all parties must work to suppress any report differing from the governor of California! Not only this, but they are coming to remove me from my post. The governor will not try to discover the truth, if he can escape doing so.

I need to get out of here, I need to breathe. I have sent a telegram to Wyman asking for an extended leave of absence to regroup.

Bumpkin’s Last Hurrah

In an effort to save face,

and in an effort to determine, finally, the existence of plague (oh, you know, those last 23 odd deaths don’t count)

Wyman has recruited three doctors. Together, we, as INDEPENDENT (read: in government pocket) researchers are to compile a report on the current state of Yersin’s presence in San Francisco.

First, there is Simon Flexner, a medical educator at the University of Pennsylvania. Second, Wyman tapped Frederick Novy of Michigan. Rounding out the list is Lewellys Barker, who has studied under Osler himself.

Naturally, my lab is considered too controversial. As a result, we are hold up in a makeshift lab, operating our of room 161 in City Hall. We are to make rounds of chinatown, and see what happens.

Perhaps this is a good sign? I feel too jaded as to expect any good to come of this.

My Doom

Kinyoun is to go. This stated, however, that the department is unwilling to transfer him “under fire”. There is no proper ground for such a position. If the department removes him as the result of charges, it acknowledges the justice of those charges, and it is impossible for the responsible official of a free government to assume that no guilty many shall be removed so long as the public complains of his iniquitous practices. It is stated that the department has considered him the victim of “newspaper spite.” Nothing could be more unfounded.

These vultures need to gain control of their lives.

In their year end editorial, entitled “The Doom of Kinyoun”, they rip me to shreds.

There was not the suspicion of any personal enmity to him on the part of any one in this city until his stupid and malignant proceedings compelled an outrages community to rise up against him. And the uprising is universal. The press only voiced the indignation which was felt by all classes of citizens.

I understand now. I was never meant to succeed, and I was never meant to control the plague. My purpose, as it were, was to maintain the sense of calm and public ignorance, to shut up, and to listen.

I feel as though I have failed on every account of what I have set out to do.

No matter the evidence I present, they deny it.

For every death I declare to be a result of plague, another doctor is willing to call it pneumonia.

For every quarantine I issue, they lose thousands of dollars. This is what it comes down to.

It is not that plague does not exist, and I truly believe that the authorities belief it as well. However, that is not what this is about. This is about blindfolding the public in the interest of business, and profit. The newspapers lie, the people will die, all in the name of the almighty dollar. If California were to be declared a plague zone, hell would break loose.

It is my firm conviction and belief that the press of San Francisco are not wholly responsible for these attacks, but they emanate from, and are prompted by, certain powerful and influential corporations which practically control the destinies of more than this state. In fact, Governor gage has had his meddling hand in the affairs. He has, by implication, charged me with being accessory to inoculating dead bodies with imported bumpkin germs in order to facilitate a plague scare. This is outrageous and libelous. This reflects on on everyone and everything I have done. He has stated that Wyman has abandoned me, and attempted to discredit me at every turn. I must defend myself. I have heard rumblings of a congressional investigation; I pray these are true.

Let it be known that I am not, in the least bit, concerned about the attitudes, attacks, mistruths, and consternation felt by the people of San Francisco. I will not be a martyr. I will not give up.

The newspapers and government may feel that they can turn San Francisco into a house of lies, and I intend to the burn it to the god damned ground.

Coptic Collapse

Interestingly,

even as I go about battling the plague on every possible front, I am still required to keep up my quarantine officer duties.

Oh, in fact, it appears that when I am not even performing said duties, I am liable for every single aspect of quarantine which is undertake by otherwise competent professionals and colleagues.

I cannot handle this anymore.

I have grown weary of the constant threats and accusations, the ignorant attacks and insinuations that I face at my work on a daily basis. The newspapers ravage me; clearly, they are deeply entrenched into the back pockets of the Chinese 6.

Who, I might add, are at the center of my latest lawsuit. Ah yes, quite the star of the Court news I am!

I suppose, for my own sanity, I shall briefly recount the tale.

Most importantly, I was not in the room, nor city, nor state, nor god forsaken country, when these events took place! On September 30th, the Coptic came to port. As soon as I had ascertained that the “Coptic” was in quarantine at Kobe, I went to the office of the occidental & Oriental S.S. Co., and requested from the general manager any information which he might have received concerning the vessel. He confirmed the report that the vessel was then in quarantine at Kobe on account of the case of illness which the Japanese quarantine authorities reported as plague. There was plenty of uncertainty concerning the origins on the plague; regularly, the ship cycles through San Francisco, Honolulu, and Kobe, Japan. Rats were found in the steerage, but nobody could identify where they originated.

Upon returning to San Francisco, the officer I had left in charge (Dr. Lumaden – competent young man) quarantined the ship as expected. Howls of protest erupted from the local tradesmen, but things were alright. The situation was brought under control. Did they not understand that this was plague? If the blagards fail to listen to me, would they perchance listen to any other reports? The officials at Kobe had confirmed our worst fears, and yet nobody gives a damn. However, things were ultimately smoothed over.

The next time was not so lucky.

Returning to San Francisco on December 14th, the Coptic was loaded with exotic foodstuffs and possible contamination. While I allowed the regular produce to be unloaded, I felt the need to quarantine the livestock.

Well.

It was as I had slit the throats of all of the wharf workers and merchants who make a living by begging for scraps from the ships that come in. And now, the Chinese 6 have sued for the release of their goods. In fact, they intend to turn the port city of San Francisco into a open trapped whore, with every Chinese shipment passing through freely with nary a care in the world! I do not believe that they are acting alone; it is my opinion that the Steamship company is behind this as well.

To hell with them all! Have at it, if you must! May your yellow eyes turn black with the shadow of death! I can only do so much, and it appears that I am at war with everyone here!

This shall be the happiest christmas of my life, I can assure you.

Everything Falls Apart

Two things:

Two white deaths.

1. William Murphy:

Teamster. Classic symptoms, another textbook example. Died on August 11th, and the autopsy proved all suspicions.

2. Anne Roede:

Nurse. Most notably, lived outside of Chinatown, and worked in a children’s hospital. The idiots who worked there thought it would be best to blow the bloody place to smithereens, until the fire was canceled at the last minute.

As well, it appears that the government is no longer by my side. Were they ever?

Governor Gage, the backstabbing ass that he is, has publicly announced that I have imported cultures of bubonic plague bacteria and falsely created this entire mess myself. What he fails to mention is any sort of reasoning, method, intent, or overarching purpose to my supposed madness.

Why I continue, I cannot say. I know the truth, I know what is right, and my own convictions drag me screaming through each passing day.

I am not insolent and dangerous.

I am not an injudicious meddler.

The paper can say what they say, and lie what they wish, but in the end, God does not like ugly, and God does not like lies.

Through their virulent inaction, they are racing towards God as quickly as they possibly can.

Judgment

I must be brief,

Lizzie has made boiled dinner for our evening meal.

However, a most curious event took place last night.

After the court case, I dropped my business card off with Judge Morrow, in hopes that we could meet to discuss matters of public health. While I could never catch him at his office, I was surprised to see him waiting in line for the Angel Island ferry. We spoke deeply about the plague and public health, and I feel that I have perhaps gotten through to him.

It is moments like these that keep me coming back for more.

Wong Wai

Well, it happend.

Incidents like these are undoubtedly personal and exceedingly delicate. When sweeping changes are brought into effect, it can be difficult to consider all opinions.

This is especially true when dealing with a bastardized group of individuals with absolutely no regard for the health and safety of the United States. Even more frustrating is the lack of understanding on behalf of the judicial system.

In the case of Wong Wai vs John M. Williamson, Rudolph W. Baum, Louis Bazet, William D. McCarthy, Vincent Buckly, George W. Mendell, William P. Sullivan, Jr., and J.J. Kinyoun, the Chinese finally got what they wanted: freedom from any sort of medical protection, professional knowledge, or expert opinion.

In what was the most arduous, humiliating, and infuriating ordeal of my existence, Wong Wai argued that the Haffkine vaccine was a known poison; a hypodermic injection intended to prevent the contraction of bubonic plague. He argued that this vaccine was ineffective, and that I, along with the aid of the government, had enforced a rule which held the Chinese immobile and captive, exposing their veins for our white man’s serum.

Ungrateful, indecent, and emotionally devoid, Wong went on to the make the following claims – perhaps the most obscene of all charges:

It is also alleged that there is not now and never has been any case of bubonic plague in said city and county, or in the state of California, nor any germs or bacteria of said disease.

You bet your worthless life there is! The court has stated that the defendants must show proof that this subjugation is valid and correct. I feel that nobody is listening! Does nobody understand? Can anybody hear me? These cases of plague, these mysterious and near-instantaneous deaths which can only be plague, are being covered up and trodden upon whilst my name is dragged through the mud so that Wyman can save face and appear to be taking the lead!

I realize now that they will never admit that this plague is upon them; rather, they will die with blood on their tongues, clutching their buboes with indignantly and insisting that the old wart has been there for years. The sale of their oranges and produce means more to them than the health of the city. This is a game, a useless game, in which I am naught but a useless and deluded pawn.

It matters not that he has ordered a complete moratorium on the movement of the Chinese, as he continues to state that this is simply precautionary, while Chinamen lay dead in the streets.

As a result of this case, I was charged with contempt.

As a result of the truth, I was cleared.

This ordeal has shown me that no matter how hard I try, nothing is going to work. I can only press onwards.

Control

It appears that the fears of the Chinese are about to become a reality.

Earlier this morn, I received an alarming telegram from Wyman, indicating that drastic measures are finally going to be taken.

During the existence of plague at any point in the United States the Surgeon-general Marine Hospital Service is authorized to forbid the sale or donation of transportation by common carriers to Asiatics or other races liable to the disease.

More importantly,

Inform transportation companies and direct them under above regulations to refuse transportation to Asiatics except on your certificate, and instruct bonded inspectors to inspect trains and prevent Asiatics leaving state without your certificate.

This situation is a mixed blessing to be sure. I enjoy that Wyman can hear me. I enjoy being listened to, and understood. However, I fear that this backhanded attempt at containing the plague will only result in further Chinese uproar and lead to rioting in the street. This decision is a thinly veiled attempt to inoculate all Asiatics with the Haffkine vaccination, and while the benefits of such vaccine are substantial, the shooting pains and numbness it causes has lead to the majority of Chinatown opting for avoidance. I feel that this is a step in the correct direction; however, it is not simply the Chinese who must take it.

What bureaucrats fail to understand, along with the public at large, is that Yersin is an indiscriminate piece of work, and will attack any race he so chooses. The conditions in which the Chinese find themselves are largely conducive to plague transmission, but it is only a matter of time before a white man contracts this disease.

I question myself, as well. Am I able to effectively control the movements of all Asiatic people? Invariably, this plan will fail, plague will take over, and I will take the fall.

It is interesting to chart my progress. While I had nothing but contempt for this place in the beginning, I someone feel as though I am sworn to defend it. This news tells me that others are feeling the same way.

Rags

Sometimes I worry that my callousness in handling the death I face will reflect upon my children.

I grow weary of the filth written in the papers, which act as little more than self-indulgent gossip rags, contributing little if anything to society and spreading the nastiest of lies in order to cover the fact that they are completely devoid of any sort of artistic, journalistic, or literary skill whatsoever! The Chronicle is especially virulent, and I feel I must send word to Wyman. It is not in my nature to passively hand my problems off to authority, but the situation is becoming out of hand.

I am choking, and I do not know what to make of it. The end of this is not in sight. My stomache aches, I experience nausea, and my gut is seized with pain.

My skin is thin, and I take it all in.

Dichotomous

Pessimistic as I was in the beginning, it is naught compared to what I feel now.

While quarantine is a difficult situation for all involved, it was a medical necessity, and truly for the benefit of the Chinese. Thus, as I awake to screaming newspaper in which Chinese Consul Ho Yow has threatened to sue for $500,000 as a result of the quarantine, I am angry. He is struggling to improve the quality of life for his people, but he forgets one thing:

So am I.

But it isn’t so simple. The vaccination they are given is so unfortunate, and they fear for their lives upon inoculation. It’s a painless process, but within two hours, the serum can bring about terrible symptoms. Shooting pains, soreness and numbness are frequent, with death being the most unfortunate of them all. I have sent word to Wyman to send more of this, but also some antiserum.

I, however, am not a fraud. The plague is real! Often plague in the lungs is misdiagnosed as pneumonia, and the Chinese, fearful of another quarantine, will go to great lengths in order to conceal their infections.

I am increasingly worried about the support I am receiving from Wyman. Defeating Yersin in San Francisco is an expensive and arduous task, but when I requested a paltry $2,500 for the month of May, I received no response. Subsequently, I informed him that I cannot continue my inspection efforts without some funding arrangement of sorts.

I am getting this from all sides. At least my work is keeping me out of the house.

Sequestration

If only anything, ever, could even hope to possibly be that simple.

The police descended on Chinatown that night, ropes in hand and hate in mind. I have been told it was sheer panic and that the screams of the terrified Chinese rang high through the streets.

A quarantine is in effect.

I have injected rats and a monkey with the bacilli escorted from the tissue sample, and now we wait. It was not a time to sit on our hands, however. This was was a preemptive strike, a cautionary measure, but how could I have ever known that nobody thinks clearly when their money is involved.

And of course, the cure might seem more dangerous than the disease.

A chemical rain has drenched the streets of Chinatown; sulfur smudging and ruining and spoiling their furniture and food and personal belongings. They grow hungry and anxious. Outside of Chinatown, the populace grows hungry as well: with a lack of cheap Chinese labor to abuse, the fattest of wealth are missing their meals. An unfortunate situation, to be sure.

I oft worry that my dripping, acrid, sarcastic contempt will burn a hole in this manuscript.

This disregard for public health is troubling. The City of Manila has been diagnosed as infected and should be treated as such! There are public displays of non-confidence which threaten me and attempt to discredit that plague is even in existance. I was given access to a document which stated:

“San Francisco is considerably stirred up over these developments which show that the quarantine has been largely pretense and it is regarded that chance only, and not the apparent vigilance of the marine hospital officials, is responsible for the fact that the plague has not thus far gained a foothold in the United States.”

Let us be serious for a moment.

If plague wants to get here, it will get here. In fact, it is here. The lack of acknowledgment is troubling.

FOUND IT.

Wong, Chut, King.

Three syllables that will invariably prove to be the downfall of my disbelief.

Last night,

the pacific divides,

a pinkish hue,

the world collides.

The postulates haven’t been fulfilled, but it is here, my GOD, it is HERE!!

Kellogg saw it too, the rose tinted ends, the rods, everything, I must warn them!

This aptly named King, king of death! His body was found by police in a coffin shop on the 6th, a buboe the size of my fist protruding on his thigh. The symptoms were gathered together and present, impeccably present, dressed as their finest exemplary selves. It’s textbook. He lived in a brothel on the chinese streets, a laborer, as they all can only ever be.

I fear the racial implications of this event. Already the Chinese speak of the Honolulu burnings, the tragic ending of their sister situation. Symbolically, King’s belongings were set alight in the streets and I cannot help but realize that their fears are legitimized by the color of their skin. It is ironic that the government will trip over itself in an attempt to suck the golden tones out of the earth, but cares little for them when they are smeared all over the faces of the innocent Chinese.

Curious

A bit of excitement.

Yesterday, the Japanese liner Nippon Maru arrived at port, causing a scene worthy of McKinley himself. I had received a report from Sanitary Inspector Eldrige detailing that the vessel had been held in quarantine for 7 days at Nagasaki, resulting from deaths from bubonic plague. As well, days before the arrival in Honolulu, a death was reported in the steerage, though the causes were not effectively communicated. During the voyage, crew members had experienced an unusual sickness, and it was believed that the cabin passengers may have been exposed to a possible infection. Naturally, I ordered the vessel to be detained in quarantine.

The plot thickens:

Upon inspection of the vessel, NINE Japanese stowaways were found. Two of these were reported by the crew. I strongly suspect that some of the subalterns were cognizant of their presence, and connived at their concealment. Oddly, all aboard the ship were seemingly in good health, including the stowaways (though they had experienced less than salubrious conditions). Note that two stowaways had jumped overboard, their bodies allegedly ravaged with plague. The bodies were recovered, yet unidentifiable; the ocean took the liberty of performing a grotesque modification, which, unpleasantly, left internal organs exposed for sample collection. It is troubling that after staining the cells, there was no indication of plague bacilli.

I fear that the carelessness of the crew is a reflection upon the entire city. I cannot do this alone, and as Lizzie sinks deeper into despair with each day we remain on this rock, I am stretched thin.

The distance ‘twixt San Francisco and China is great, but Yersin is a formidable foe. If Yersin is there, I must send word immediately to Wyman. He ignored my requests for funding, but we MUST send an officer to Hong Kong. The Japanese may possess a steam disinfecting chamber, but misery loves company.

If Yersin is here, I must find him.

Ramshackled

We have arrived.

Whoever named this Angel island should be shot in the face.

The facility is in shambles. While the natural beauty of the island is enjoyable, the fog keeps it well hidden. Both the quarantine station and our living quarters are run-down and sparsely furnished; however, facilities for immigrants are downright malicious. After being hosed with disinfectant, they stand frozen, shaking, in the chilling winds of the bay. I feel for them, yet am careful to not let it be known. Perhaps I shall send for more money from Wyman, though you cannot squeeze blood from a heart of stone.

My home life, as well, has become a mess. With her constantly cantankerous attitude, I sometimes wonder if it is Lizzie, rather than John Nathan, who is teething. She does nothing but complain of that darn foot, though she alternates between treating me with silence and open hostility. Were it not for her darkroom, I fear I would have thrown her into the waters long ago.

I wrote a letter to Bailhache; I feel as though he is the only one who would openly express concern for my predicament. The others are much too close to Wyman, and for good reason, as experience shows that those who are not in his favour are known to experience a disarming displacement. If Wyman wants to bury me, he will find I will prove to be a rather lively corpse.

Compounding my disgust is that everyone in this godforsaken Jew town is out to get me.

I fear the worst is yet to come.

Farewell, in hell.

I have been scandalized.

It is with utter rage and contempt that I must write of of my transfer (effective immediately) to San Francisco. There, Lizzie and I will be holed up on Angel Island, an ancient Miwok Indian camp which is devoid of the modern conveniences she has come to expect I will provide. God help us; she is with child, and is certainly not fit for such a journey!

The decision, of course, is Wyman’s – the great pigheaded lout had nary a concern for my career or family at all. This isn’t the first time that the son of a bitch has grabbed an established man of science and flung him halfway around the world, in an utterly random and nonsensical fashion which only serves to humiliate and infuriate those beneath him. The distant threat of Chinese plague does not require an expert in the field to counteract, and I fear that my research career will be forfeit. Perhaps there is more to this, lurking silently beneath the surface.

Lord, give me patience. Of course, they would even work to ruin my impression of my most favourite eatery – the farewell banquet is to be held at Rauscher’s. Perhaps I will give the entire lot of them a piece of my mind.

No; I must keep a stiff upper lip. No need to upset them all.

Perhaps the Pacific lifestyle will bode well for the children.