Between Cases

Nurse Aird moved from case to case, and was never one place very long. Her friends always managed to catch up.

Over several weeks, we have been learning about Elizabeth Rowen Aird, who worked as a private nurse in the Teeside region of England in the early part of the 20th century. Her distinctive handwriting boldly appeared among a collection of vintage English postcards from 1902 to 1916. Two cards charted a course back to Redcar and an earlier essay about an unusual seaside stroll. Another single card happened to be in the right place and time in regal roadworks.

This week, we examine the postcards Liz received from fellow nurses, faithful friends, and grateful patients. This view expands the territory, too. Her friends write from Glasgow and Isle of Wight, and from more familiar stations. The cards also follow her from case to case, often forwarded to a new address where she was working.

Nurse Aird was not attached to one hospital ward. She took private cases one at a time, perhaps through a nursing registry or through established relationships with convalescence homes. She picked up patient cases on a weekly or monthly basis, often staying in the family’s home and moving on when each case ended.

William Smart’s mother still in great pain, no hope of decreasing it. Am with very pleasant people. I am keeping very well but get well tired. Went to Unity on Sunday evening – hope you both keep well. Expect to be here till away case – it only came off a week ago. Bob Payhrs is not so well. Will get direct train when it comes out. Liz

Fellow nurses kept in touch, perhaps to ease the loneliness of a stay away in a family home that may have seemed unfamiliar.

So glad to receive your letter – will answer it later. Came here on Saturday; an old lady again. This is a very old town, but we are quite in the country & it is so lovely. Am quite well & hope you are Yours, B.E.W.

Or, simply to gossip!

Thanks for pretty P.P.C. Can’t think of how P. delaying so long. Probably could not forgive herself for the ‘ride’ not coming off, sort of penance. I am wondering if you have got any fresh storyettes about ‘nurses’ now don’t keep them all to yourself you know I enjoy them immensely. Weather lovely, no work of course. how can a mere student? Ta Ta you N.S.

We don’t know if Nurse Aird had formal training or even if she chose the nursing profession. Nurses in her era had to remain unmarried to be employable, and unmarried women often became nurses. Liz must have offered a kind word to a young woman thinking about her options.

Dear Nurse, Thank you very much for P.P.C I have not been through Darlington twice. Yes, I am still thinking of going in for nursing. I shall soon be old enough. They will take them at 22 at Aston. So I shall not have long to wait. I will write you a letter in a day or two and tell you all the news. Hope you are keeping well. When are you coming over to see us. Yes I think we are all pretty well. Harry is getting married soon. I will tell you when in my letter when I write. We are having a concert next Saturday. Shall be glad when it is over. Hoping to hear from you again, I remain your loving friend. S.

Nursing would not become a registered profession in Britain until the Nurses Registration Act of 1919. Liz worked steadily for at least two decades before that law existed. Though she moved within a firm social architecture, there were few legal protections, and no patient meant no pay.

Will stay here next week & then if nothing turns up will come over during race week. Nurses are all on holiday, as there is nothing doing. Glad the belt is alright. This weather is very relaxing – the country is lovely just now – went for a drive with Miss Lucas yesterday. Liz.

Rest and relaxation came through friendships, church, and a seaside social calendar. Alice A. Lucas belonged to Liz’s own circle in Darlington, built around the Unity Society there. Her December 1906 card included good news of her mother’s health, and also her evening plans.

It was kind of you to send such a pretty P.C. to Mother. She is not quite ready yet to need you to nurse her, but has only just escaped that fate!! We have had her in her room since Friday, by Sunny Jim’s orders (a slight internal bother) We hope to have her down tomorrow. How are you, dear? We shall be glad to see you back. I am going down to the singing practice now. Mr Side is doing very well. We are arranging for a “Unity Church Society” for study of social & other questions. Goodbye – with our united love, affectly yrs, Alice A. Lucas.

This congregation met in Darlington from 1873 to 1922, part of the Unitarian church in England. It was a big part of Liz’s social world during her time there, from 1906 to 1915. Over the years, she attended concerts and lectures, walked in the park, and traveled to see friends connected through church.

6 South Ter Harrogate, Thanks for card. We wondered how you had got on. Rev S.S. Brettell comes 14 Sun Oct – fear you may not get here – we do not record.

Her mother attended a separate Unity congregation back home in South Shields. Through their correspondence, we see the bond between mother and daughter, and also the goings-on of a socially progressive faith community. A 1912 card confirms a standing weekly commitment in South Shields.

Dear Mrs Aird The U.S. meeting will be at the above adress tomorrow night. The N.E. Cafe is let for the whole of the winter for Thurs. if it suits the members I hope you will be able to be there.

Mother and daughter each had their own circles, engagements, and schedules, which sometimes overlapped.

Going up to Tyne Dock to see Harmonium to-night. Come down as soon as you can to-night. I may go to park. Liz

Despite the typical brevity and levity of postcards, they do sometimes deliver devasting news. Liz’s cases were not always easy.

Hope you are keeping better! Last Sunday I had blue baby at church in the afternoon. She had a convulsion at 11 at night & died Monday morning. It was very unexpected. The patient is alright but her mother is ill and not expected to recover – I miss the baby more than anyone she was such a sweet little thing. How cold here the weather is, a great change, you must be careful not to get cold. Much love to both, Liz.

The postcard she sent from Sedgefield Asylum comes with an ominous chill. Also known as Durham County Lunatic Asylum, it was built in 1858 and expanded in the 1880s until it held 700 patients under one roof, with its own chapel, stables, and water supply. That same building was absorbed into the newly formed National Health Service in 1948, renamed Winterton Hospital in 1949, and continued treating patients into the mid-1990s.

Bark House, Sedgefield. Hope you are all well. Have been very busy – patient still in bed. Have you read the failure of Mr Stopkus. I was with them a year ago – regular fraud – I expect to go thro the asylum next week. Hope they wont keep me in. Send me a few lines this week, not sure if I can get next week. Much love to both. Liz

Other patients wrote to Liz with the encouraging and frustrating details of getting better. Given the number of these messages, we have to assume she stayed in touch with some patients and families long after the case was over and she had moved on.

“Have been here five weeks. Am feeling much better & stronger & staying a little longer. Kindest regards. E Beaumont”

Maud, recovering in Nottinghamshire in August 1907, wrote with wry humor.

“Thanks for card – Am improving everyday – Can walk splendidly! Plenty of fresh air of course – unfortunately can’t get away from nurses – there is one visiting here just now – Are you not sorry for me? Yours”

A few messages indicate that Liz was generous, too. Gifts and parcels were exchanged regularly, including some little bonnets that seem to have been for sale. Messages nearly always offered a health update and wishes for her own wellbeing, and her parents.

My dear Nurse, Thank you very much for your nice parcel. The little bonnets are lovely. They will sell I am sure. Hope you are feeling better. Father has been ill but is better. Love from all. E.S.

Dear Miss Aird, I received your letter thanking you very very much for the present it was quite a surprise. I am enjoying myself very much and having beautiful weather. Hope you are keeping better and also your mother. Gertie.

Dear Miss Aird, Thank you very much for the biscuits. we are sorry your father & you are so ill. Mother on the improve but not able to go about yet. She will write to you as soon as she can. With love from all, Rachael

A few cards taken together trace a long friendship. Rennie, writing from Whitley Bay in July 1910:

15 Park Parade, Whitley Bay. We arrived here yesterday. Hope you will be over to see us. We are here for 10 days with Yeoman Eli. Love from Rennie.

A missed meeting the same month:

Very sorry I can-not meet you tomorrow, hope you will have a nice day at Whitby. Love from Rennie

An invitation the following September:

Cherryburn Gardens Fenham, Thanks for your invitation, shall be pleased to come on Monday leaving here 2.0 but must return 5.30. Hope your Mother is keeping better. With love from Rennie.

And a week at Langholm in 1913, with her own mother:

Mother & I have been here a week. Leaving Monday. We are enjoying the rest, a change. The weather is good, rain this afternoon for the first time. How is your father keeping? I hope better. Love from us both, from, Rennie

These cards we first approached as places—Alnwick, Nottingham, Newcastle-on-Tyne—were not scenery chosen at random. They were where Liz and her circle actually spent the free time that their arduous work allowed them. The seaside villas, the castles, and parks were the landscapes for their lives.

Read together, these cards describe a social system built almost entirely on goodwill and improvisation. The National Health Service, founded in 1948, was built to respond exactly these gaps: free care for all, a regulated nursing profession, hospitals and asylums brought under one public system. Liz’s world and her own work preceded what we think of as healthcare now. What came after was far from perfect, and it is worth appreciating what it replaced.

St Helena Sanitarium a Century Ago

Sometimes, a single postcard reads like a dramatic novel. On September 5, 1914, Mrs. C.H. Jones received a cryptic message (just five drawn lines) from her husband at the St Helena Sanitarium in Napa Valley.

With a closer look, this mysterious correspondence reveals the unique influence of its author on Adventist history and early 20th century approaches to wellness, nature, and medicine.

image of the front of a postcard
C.H. Jones’ handwriting on a postcard from St Helena Sanitarium dated September 4, 1914

The front of the postcard offers a glimpse of the sanitarium’s picturesque surroundings. A color image shows a serene body of water flanked by lush greenery. Trees line the banks, their reflections shimmering on the water’s surface. In the distance, rolling hills rise, creating a sense of depth and showcasing the natural beauty of the Napa Valley. This image is accompanied by a pre-printed checklist of common sentiments a visitor might want to convey, such as “Arrived here safely” and “This is the best place to rest,” though Jones himself did not make a selection.

The words POST CARD are prominently displayed in green, capital letters across the back of the card with a divided section below. On the left, under the words “For Correspondence” appear five wavy blue lines drawn by hand, mysterious marks standing in for whatever personal message C.H. Jones might have penned to his wife. On the right side in the same elegant ink: “Mrs C.H. Jones, #305 Kenwood St., Glendale, Calif.” A green one-cent stamp featuring the profile of George Washington adorns the upper right corner, canceled by a postmark from Saint Helena, on Sep 5, 1914.

The St. Helena Sanitarium itself was a sight to behold. Nestled into the lush, forested hillside of the Napa Valley, the sanitarium complex was impressive and inviting. The main building, a grand structure of several stories with a white-painted exterior, stood out starkly against the dark green of the surrounding forest.

A series of covered verandas, visible on each level, offered patients and visitors alike the opportunity to take in the fresh air and stunning views of the valley. These outdoor spaces, so integral to the sanitarium’s health philosophy, wrapped around portions of the building, providing ample space for rest and contemplation.

The landscaping immediately surrounding the building was meticulous, with manicured lawns, ornamental shrubs, and small trees dotting the grounds. Palm trees hinted at the mild California climate. The entire complex exuded an air of tranquility and order, its gleaming white walls a beacon of health and hope set against the verdant backdrop of the Napa Valley.

The St. Helena Sanitarium played a significant role in both Adventist history and the broader health reform movement sweeping across America in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. This movement, driven by concerns about urbanization, industrialization, and changing diets, saw the rise of numerous health institutions known as sanitariums. These facilities, often located in picturesque natural settings, aimed to provide rest, rejuvenation, and health education to their patrons.

The most famous sanitarium was in Battle Creek, Michigan, led by Dr. John Harvey Kellogg. Kellogg, an Adventist physician, transformed the Western Health Reform Institute into a world-renowned health resort. The Battle Creek Sanitarium became a model for other such institutions, including St. Helena, with its emphasis on hydrotherapy, exercise, vegetarian diet, and the importance of fresh air and sunlight.

W.H. Kellogg, John’s brother, played a crucial role in developing health foods that became staples at the Battle Creek Sanitarium and beyond. The Kellogg brothers’ invention of corn flakes and other vegetarian foods aligned with the Adventist emphasis on a plant-based diet and had a lasting impact on American food culture.

The St. Helena Sanitarium, while smaller than Battle Creek, developed along similar lines. It was established in 1878 by a small group of Adventist believers who purchased the 10-acre Napa Valley property for $13,000. The initial facilities were modest, consisting of a small two-story building capable of accommodating about 40 patients. Dr. Merritt Kellogg, another brother of John Harvey Kellogg, was instrumental in its early development.

Like Battle Creek, St. Helena emphasized natural remedies and lifestyle changes. However, it had the added advantage of California’s mild climate and beautiful surroundings, which were seen as inherently health-promoting. The sanitarium quickly gained a reputation as a “Garden of Eden” for health seekers, attracting patients from across the country.

As the institution grew, it expanded its facilities and services. By the early 1900s, it had modern medical equipment, including X-ray machines and clinical laboratories, alongside its natural treatments. This blend of conventional and alternative therapies was characteristic of progressive sanitariums of the era.

The St. Helena Sanitarium also differed from Battle Creek in its continued close affiliation with the Seventh-day Adventist Church. While John Harvey Kellogg eventually separated from the church, St. Helena remained a central institution in Adventist health ministry. This was reinforced by Ellen G. White’s nearby residence at Elmshaven and her ongoing involvement in the sanitarium’s affairs.

By 1914, when C.H. Jones visited, the sanitarium had evolved significantly from its humble beginnings. Under the medical superintendence of Dr. George Thomason, who had been in charge since 1911, it had become a well-established medical institution, yet it remained true to its founding principles of natural healing and wholistic health.

The sanitarium’s mission was rooted in the Adventist health message, which emphasized prevention and natural remedies. Its philosophy, revolutionary for its time, promoted a holistic approach to health, treating the whole person – body, mind, and spirit. This was reflected in its services, which included hydrotherapy treatments, a vegetarian diet, exercise programs, and spiritual care.

One of the sanitarium’s key features was its use of natural springs on the property for hydrotherapy treatments. These water-based therapies were a cornerstone of the sanitarium’s approach to healing. The institution also boasted a nursing school, training professionals to carry the Adventist health message to other institutions and communities.

The sanitarium’s emphasis on health education extended beyond its walls. The Pacific Health Journal and Temperance Advocate, published by the “health retreat” at St. Helena, helped disseminate Adventist health principles to a wider audience.

The sanitarium’s reputation extended far beyond Adventist circles, attracting a diverse and often notable clientele. Among its reported visitors were William Jennings Bryan, the famous orator and three-time presidential candidate, and Jack London, the renowned author of “Call of the Wild.” Some sources even suggest that President Theodore Roosevelt may have visited, though this claim requires further verification. These high-profile guests, drawn by the sanitarium’s innovative treatments and serene environment, helped cement its status as a premier health institution.

Charles Harriman Jones, the sender of our postcard, was himself a significant figure in Adventist history. Born in 1850, he had dedicated his life to the publishing work of the Seventh-day Adventist Church. By 1914, he had been serving as the chief executive of the Pacific Press Publishing Association for over two decades, overseeing its growth and relocation from Oakland to Mountain View, California in 1904. His tireless efforts had helped establish the Press as a cornerstone of Adventist publishing.

Jones’ presence at the sanitarium is unsurprising given his close working relationship with Ellen G. White, who lived nearby at her Elmshaven home. White, a prolific author whose works were published by Pacific Press, took an active interest in the sanitarium’s affairs and often provided counsel on its operations. Her proximity allowed her to provide ongoing support, further cementing the institution’s importance within the Adventist framework.

While the St. Helena Sanitarium was thriving in 1914, the broader sanitarium movement was on the cusp of significant challenges. The early 20th century saw rapid advancements in medical science that would ultimately transform healthcare and challenge the sanitarium model.

The development of germ theory and its widespread acceptance in the medical community led to a greater emphasis on specific treatments for identified pathogens, rather than the natural remedies favored by sanitariums. The discovery of insulin in 1921 and the development of antibiotics in the 1930s and 1940s dramatically changed the treatment of many diseases, shifting focus away from the lifestyle and dietary approaches central to sanitarium care.

In the field of mental health, the rise of psychoanalysis and other forms of talk therapy began to challenge the sanitarium approach to treating nervous disorders. Sigmund Freud’s theories, gaining prominence in the early 1900s, offered new explanations for mental illness that went beyond the physical and environmental factors emphasized in sanitariums.

The standardization of medical education, following the influential Flexner Report of 1910, also played a role. This report led to more rigorous, science-based medical training and the closure of many schools that didn’t meet the new standards. As a result, newer generations of doctors were less likely to embrace the eclectic, nature-based approaches common in sanitariums.

The Great Depression of the 1930s dealt a significant blow to many sanitariums, as fewer people could afford extended stays at these facilities. World War II further accelerated the decline, as resources were diverted to the war effort and many sanitariums were converted into military hospitals.

By the 1950s and 1960s, many of the grand old sanitariums had closed or been converted into conventional hospitals or other facilities. The Battle Creek Sanitarium, once the flagship of the movement, closed its doors in 1957. However, some institutions, like the St. Helena Sanitarium, successfully transitioned into modern hospitals while retaining elements of their holistic health heritage.

The St. Helena Sanitarium, now known as Adventist Health St. Helena, stands as a testament to this evolution. While it has become a full-service hospital, it continues to emphasize whole-person care and lifestyle medicine, echoing its sanitarium roots. The continued operation of the St. Helena facility, albeit in a much-evolved form, speaks to the enduring value of some aspects of the sanitarium philosophy, even in an age of highly specialized modern medicine.

This 1914 postcard captures a moment just before the scientific and social changes that would reshape the medical landscape. At this late stage in his life, C.H. Jones would have seen firsthand the sanitarium’s significance and its role in promoting Adventist health principles but he may not have predicted the way medicine and healthcare would change. We can fill in the lines on the postcard to his wife with the details of a long career in Adventist publishing and health ministries, or perhaps more poignantly with the advice C.H. Jones would offer us today.