The Four Doctors

Written by James Edmonson, President Emeritus

Edited & Adapted by Duncan Virostko, Museum Assistant

The following article was originally published in The Dunham Tavern Museum & Gardens Newsletter, Winter 2022. It has been adapted and republished here as the first in a series of posts focusing on the history of the “Dunhamsburgh” neighborhood, Rufus Dunhams’ tongue-in-cheek description of the stretch between East 63rd St and 69th Streets along Euclid Ave where Dunham’s Tavern, his adjacent second house, and the house of his widowed daughter Loretta J. Pier nee Dunham stood. The Dunham family remained a part of the neighborhood long after the Tavern left their hands in the 1850s, with youngest daughter Caroline living in her father’s second home until 1905. This series tells the story of the Dunhams’ neighbors, many of whom played important roles in Cleveland history. ~Editor

The vicinity of “Dunhamsburg”, ca. 1858. (ARCGIS)

I have spent almost four decades exploring Cleveland’s medical past, its movers and shakers, but little did I see any connection to the Dunham family and their neighborhood. Now, as I dig into the past of the Dunhams and their tavern, I am learning that some distinguished medical figures were close neighbors, and one even had relatives living in what had been the Dunham home! The East Cleveland Township community, although very rural and agricultural in Rufus Dunham’s day, became home to a surprisingly broad range of professionals: lawyers, engineers, surveyors, bankers, clergy, and, of course, doctors.

The medical inhabitants include four individuals who played pivotal roles in the city’s medical past:

*The home of Dr. John Delamater, later the home of Charles Whittlesey. Located at East 65th and Euclid Ave on the Southwest side, across the street from the present day Midtown Collaboration Center.*

John Delamater (1787-1867), a founder and Dean of what became the CWRU school of medicine, lived across the street from Dunham’s tavern, approximately in the present area of E65th & Euclid on the southwest side. Delamater had been given the Euclid Avenue homestead at retirement as a gesture of respect and admiration by devoted faculty. His home was later acquired by Charles Whittlesey, a renowned local geologist. Whittlesey’s story will be covered in subsequent articles in this series.

Delamater would play an important role in the last chapter of Rufus Dunham’s life. The year was 1862, and Rufus had long since retired from the now unprofitable tavern business, and constructed a new home for himself right next door to Dunham Tavern, at the corner of what is now East 66th St and Euclid Ave. He lived comfortably with his wife, Jane Pratt Dunham, and enjoyed the company of his daughters Caroline Welch and Loretta J. Pier, who resided nearby. It would have been complete domestic bliss, were it not for the Civil War which no doubt disturbed it. It was a bad year to be, as Rufus was, a loyal supporter of the Union: there had been many Union defeats and very few victories. Yet, Rufus remained as jovial as ever in spite of the circumstances, and said by his friends to be in good health and spirits. Then suddenly, the morning of the 14th of June, a granddaughter found Rufus unresponsive, lying on his back, one hand holding a filled pipe, the other a match. Rufus’ household servants, George Carney, Rosina Huber, and Maria J. Davidson had all stepped over Rufus’ body, thinking him asleep and being reluctant to awaken their employer.

The family rushed across the street to Delamater’s home. Upon his arrival Delamater, being a greatly revered diagnostician, declared Rufus dead. Investigating the scene, Delamater noted that Rufus was lying on his back on the floor but otherwise uninjured. This, he determined, meant the death happened slowly, with Rufus sinking to the floor, ruling out a sudden fall. In the absence of any other evidence, Delamater presumed old age to be the cause. Modern medicine suggests there could have been several causes for such a sudden, but otherwise peaceful death, most notably either a heart attack or stroke. Whatever the cause, it was Dr. Delamater who ultimately oversaw the last moments of Rufus Dunham’s 72 years of life.

*Dunham Tavern in Winter, ca. 1900. Dr. Thayer’s house is seen to the right of the Tavern.*

Plat map ca. 1881, showing Dunham Tavern & Dr. Thayer’s home. (ARCGIS)

Proctor Thayer (1823-1890) served as professor of anatomy and surgery in the Medical Department of Western Reserve College, succeeding Dr. Delamater, and his home stood next door to the tavern in the 1880s, then residence of the Williams family who acquired it from Rufus Dunham in 1857. Like the Dunhams, Thayer was a Massachusetts native. When his father died in 1830 the family moved to Aurora, Ohio to live with Thayer’s older brother. He attended Western Reserve College in Hudson and became a protégé of Delamater at the college’s Medical Department in Cleveland. Thayer gained notoriety in 1855 when he was arrested for grave-robbing at Woodland Cemetery. In court, Thayer defended his actions, asserting that students needed to dissect to understand the human body. Thayer proposed that in the future all paupers (persons who died without money and relatives to claim their bodies) who died in Cleveland should have their bodies turned over to the medical college, and circulated a petition to that effect. The petition was signed by much of the student body and faculty of the college and Horace Ackley, the head of the college, would go on to propose a similar bill to the Cleveland city government. The medical faculty later showed up at the trial, voicing their support for Thayer, and he got off with a small fine. There existed no legal process in Ohio for surgeons to obtain cadavers until 1881, when discovery of the body of John Scott Harrison (both a son, and a father, of US Presidents) in a Cincinnati medical college, a scandal which led to the passage of the Ohio Anatomy Act.

*Lecture Card for Dr. Thayer, ca. 1874-1875*

During his tenure at the Medical Department of Western Reserve College, Thayer opposed the new development of antiseptic surgery. Local surgeon Dudley Peter Allen, a recent graduate of Harvard’s medical school, had returned to Cleveland in 1882 from a “grand tour” of surgical clinics in Europe. He brought with him a revelation: European surgeons had demonstrated the effectiveness of new antiseptic techniques of cleanliness in surgery. These including shaving and cleaning surgical sites before procedures, disinfecting bandages, using carbolic acid spray on wounds to prevent infection, and cleaning their instruments using high temperature steam or chemicals. Thayer, however, publicly derided Dudley’s use of “stinking antiseptics” in his Cleveland practice. Ultimately, history, science, and medicine were on Allen’s side, and the advent of germ theory hastened the widespread adoption of the techniques he pioneered in Cleveland. By the turn of the century, medical practice had completely transitioned to antiseptic practices not just in surgery but in other types of care as well.

George Washington Crile (1864-1943), a renowned surgeon at Lakeside Hospital (then located at E. 9th and 12th Streets), lived at the corner of 63rd St. and Euclid Avenue. He earned his medical degree in 1887 from Wooster Medical College, and also traveled to Europe for additional training. He would early in his career get a taste of battlefield medicine, volunteering in 1898 during the Spanish American War for the U.S. Army Medical Corps, studying battlefield surgery, tropical diseases, and camp sanitation. He then became world famous for direct patient-to-patient blood transfusion in 1906, and hosted a series of surgical clinics rivalling those at Harvard, Hopkins, and Mayo. He went on to lead the Lakeside Unit, the first American contingent to arrive on British soil during World War I and subsequently staffed Base Hospital No. 4 in Rouen, France. Crile would study the effects of poison gas attacks, shell concussion, and “shell shock” (now known as PTSD) on wounded soldiers, as well as wound infections, during the war. His experience proved a catalyst in the founding of Cleveland Clinic in 1921. With his meteoric rise among surgeons, Crile moved to a sprawling upscale residence in Cleveland Heights.

Enameled Cameos of Dr. James A Stephens & Wife Oriana Burwell-Stephens, ca. 1900.

Dr. James A Stephens came from a different medical and educational background from the other doctors living in “Dunhamsburg”, being a homeopathic doctor. Homeopathy is the unscientific and now discredited theory that the potency of medicine can be increased by diluting it. It became a popular form of alternative medicine in the early 19th century, although with the rapid medical advances in the latter half of the century the rationale for its therapy progressively waned. Ultimately, it was displaced by the germ theory. The Western College of Homeopathy, later the Cleveland Homeopathic Hospital College, was founded in 1850 and continued to operate under a variety of different names until 1914. Such schools initially offered a less rigorous alternative to traditional medical schooling. For this reason, some physicians of the period opted to obtain their credentials from homeopathic rather than traditional medical schools. By the late 19th century when Dr. Stephens was studying medicine, however, homeopathy and mainstream medicine were both adopting similar theories and practices. After 1900 the rival schools of medical thought reached a point of rapprochement, with their colleges sharing essentially the same curriculum fundamentals. Generally, doctors of this period defined themselves more by their areas of specialty than what medical theories they adhered to, so it is unlikely Stephens would have referred to himself as a homeopath.

Dr. Stephens was the last of a by then waning breed of family doctors, offering attentive care that endeared them to their patients. In the midst of medical modernization and shifting care from the home to the hospital, Stephens provided his wealthy patients with a more discrete and personal form of care, regularly making house calls on his clients. Unsurprisingly as his patients consisted largely of the residents of Millionaire’s Row, he became a well respected community member, joining the ranks of very well-to-do Clevelanders.

It was during one of his house calls, in the 1880s, that Dr. Stephens attended the pregnant Mrs. Jettie Wason, whose husband William leased the tavern from George Williams. For the good doctor, it was love at first sight: the rambling old house exuded a charm no other then-modern home along Euclid Avenue could match. He assumed the remainder of the Wasons’ lease and moved in with his new wife Oriana Burwell Stephen. The old Tavern would remain their home until his death in 1930, ironically from complications of surgery.

Stephens tried repeatedly to buy the home from Williams, without success. I wondered why George Williams was so attached to the place. One answer may be that when his family settled in Painesville in 1811 they opened a tavern and George worked there until moving to Cleveland in 1834. To Williams, a tavern was home, even when it ceased to be a public house, and he couldn’t bear to part with it.

In 1889, Williams died, and by 1896 Dr. Stephens had purchased the home. In 1908, he transferred the deed to his wife Oriana, who would retain ownership of the home until 1936, at which time she transferred it to the newly created Museum organization.

*Landing of Gen. La Fayette At Garden New York, 16th August 1825, Flow Blue Plate ca. 1825, gift of Oriana Stephens*

Without the Stephens’ effort to preserve the home well into the 20th century, it is likely that Dunham Tavern would not have survived the Millionaire’s Row period of Euclid Avenue’s development, to say nothing of its later commercial era. Although the Stephens made major internal and external changes to the structure during their residence, Oriana Stephens was later very much involved in efforts to preserve and restore the Tavern at the end of her life during the 1930s, ensuring the priceless treasure was ultimately left in good hands. Additionally, Oriana gifted several artifacts to the museum, most notably a plate depicting the 1824-1825 visit of Marquis De Lafayette to the United States, which this year sees its 200th anniversary, and a grandfather clock. Both now have a place of pride on display in the dining room at Dunham Tavern.

*Tall Case Clock, ca. 1820s, gift of Oriana Stephens.*

The Four Doctors who lived in the neighborhood, colloquially called “Dunhamsburgh” by Rufus Dunham, each played an important role in Cleveland’s medical history. They represented different stages in the evolution of medical science. Dr. Charles Delamater, represents its earliest phase, as a respected, but not particularly wealthy diagnostician, pronouncing Rufus’ demise in the kitchen of Rufus’ new retirement home. Dr. Proctor Thayer, in contrast, personifies the great progress made in the 19th century, pushing medical science forward yet also violating moral boundaries. Equally, he later represented the forces of medical conservatism in the latter half of the 19th and early 20th century with his opposition to antiseptic medicine. Dr. James A Stephens, perhaps fittingly, is something of an anachronism, at once a bridge to the past as a homeopathic doctor who still made house calls, and yet with his wealth and connections to the Millionaire’s Row elite a harbinger of medicine as big business in the United States. In many ways, Dr. Stephens represents the end of an era in medicine. Dr. George Washington Crile, in contrast, represents the final evolution of medical practice, spurred on by the horrors of 20th century modern warfare, and the beginning of modern medicine as we now know it: centered on hospitals, and led by scientific advances. Crile represents an evolution from the doctors of Delamaters day, who were often self-employed and of modest means, to doctors who on one hand possessed greater wealth and power than any early 19th century doctor, and yet were more beholden to medical institutions. Ultimately, medicine and the doctors that practiced it evolved alongside, and served, the neighborhood once called Dunhamsburgh.