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My dear Burt,

It is more than likely that you would be interested in the news of this place, for there is a possibility that you will be assigned here for duty, so having a minute between rounds I will try to tell you a little about the situation here as I have seen it in the last week.

As you know, I have not seen much pneumonia in the last few years in Detroit, so when I came here I was somewhat behind in the niceties of the Army way of intricate diagnosis. Also to make it good, I have had for the last week an exacerbation of my old 'Ear Rot' as Artie Ogle calls it, and could not use a stethoscope at all, but had to get by on my ability to 'spot' 'em thru my general knowledge of pneumonias…

Camp Devens is near Boston, and has about 50,000 men, or did have before this epidemic broke loose. It also has the base hospital for the Division of the Northeast. This epidemic started about four weeks ago, and has developed so rapidly that the camp is demoralized and all ordinary work is held up till it has passed. All assemblages of soldiers taboo. These men start with what appears to be an attack of la grippe or influenza, and when brought to the hospital they very rapidly develop the most viscous type of pneumonia that has ever been seen. Two hours after admission they have the mahogany spots over the cheek bones, and a few hours later you can begin to see the cyanosis extending from their ears and spreading all over the face, until it is hard to distinguish the coloured men from the white. It is only a matter of a few hours then until death comes, and it is simply a struggle for air until they suffocate. It is horrible. One can stand it to see one, two or twenty men die, but to see these poor devils dropping like flies sort of gets on your nerves. We have been averaging about 100 deaths per day, and still keeping it up. There is no doubt in my mind that there is a new mixed infection here, but what I don’t know. My total time is taken up hunting rales, rales dry or moist, sibilant or crepitant or any other of the hundred things that one may find in the chest, they all mean but one thing here — pneumonia — and that means in about all cases death.

The normal number of doctors here is about 25 and that has been increased to over 250, all of whom (of course excepting me) have temporary orders — 'Return to your proper station on completion of work' — Mine says, 'Permanent Duty,' but I have been in the Army just long enough to learn that it doesn’t always mean what it says. So I don’t know what will happen to me at the end of this. We have lost an outrageous number of nurses and doctors, and the little town of Ayer is a sight. It takes special trains to carry away the dead. For several days there were no coffins and the bodies piled up something fierce, we used to go down to the morgue (which is just back of my ward) and look at the boys laid out in long rows. It beats any sight they ever had in France after a battle. An extra long barracks has been vacated for the use of the morgue, and it would make any man sit up and take notice to walk down the long lines of dead soldiers all dressed up and laid out in double rows. We have no relief here; you get up in the morning at 5:30 and work steady till about 9:30 p.m., sleep, then go at it again. Some of the men of course have been here all the time, and they are tired.

If this letter seems somewhat disconnected overlook it, for I have been called away from it a dozen times, the last time just now by the Officer of the Day, who came in to tell me that they have not as yet found at any of the autopsies any case beyond the red hepatitis stage. It kills them before it gets that far.

I don’t wish you any hard luck Old Man, but do wish you were here for a while at least. It’s more comfortable when one has a friend about. The men here are all good fellows, but I get so damned sick o’ pneumonia that when I eat I want to find some fellow who will not 'talk shop' but there ain’t none, no how. We eat it, sleep it, and dream it, to say nothing of breathing it 16 hours a day. I would be very grateful indeed it you would drop me a line or two once in a while, and I will promise you that if you ever get into a fix like this, I will do the same for you.

Each man here gets a ward with about 150 beds (mine has 168), and has an Asst. Chief to boss him, and you can imagine what the paper work alone is — fierce — and the Government demands all paper work be kept up in good shape. I have only four day nurses and five night nurses (female) a ward-master, and four orderlies. So you can see that we are busy. I write this in piecemeal fashion. It may be a long time before I can get another letter to you, but will try.

Good-by old Pal,

'God be with you till we meet again'

Keep the Bouells open,

Roy"

"I wish to point out some mistakes in your last week’s issue in the account given of him by Sir Frederick Treves in his recently published book. It is only the errors that I wish to rectify here."

"The showing of Meyrick never appeared to any of us as being in any way detrimental to him–I mean painful."

"The big majority of showmen are in the habit of treating their novelties as human beings, and in a large number of cases as one of their own, and not like beasts…"

Tom Norman’s letter to the World’s Fair regarding Joseph Merrick, the Elephant Man (1923) 

Sir. — Being one of four persons who, just over 40 years ago, that had a business interest in Joseph Meyrick (not Merrick), the Elephant Man; the other three being the late Geo. Hitchcock (little George), Sam Torr (Comedian), and Sam Roper, at that time a licensed victualler in Belgrave Gate, Leicester. I wish to point out some mistakes in your last week’s issue in the account given of him by Sir Frederick Treves in his recently published book. It is only the errors that I wish to rectify here. All or any other detailed reminiscences of Meyrick, from his life in Leicester workhouse until his being sent to a convalescent home by the late King Edward and Queen Alexandra (then Prince and Princess of Wales) can be seen in my book of life entitled, “Sixty-five years a Butcher, Farmer, Showman, Auctioneer” price 1/- of most large booksellers.

Joseph Meyrick was undoubtedly suffering from a disease known in the medical profession as elephantisis [sic], but then the public in general did not know that; and he was not exhibited in an empty greengrocer’s shop. That shop was next door to the one he was exhibited in and kept by a man named Geary an Irishman in Whitechapel Road. The shop on the other side of the one we were showing was and still is, I believe, a pawnbroker’s. The premises used for the exhibition of Meyrick had for several years previously been a waxwork exhibition owned by a man of the name of Cotton. I came to London and rented it from him and removed Meyrick thereto, and at that time there was every week-day morning and afternoon up till about 3 p.m. a number of students with no hats on, and white coats, coming in and out of the London Hospital opposite for the purpose of what I then presumed to obtain some refreshments, fresh air, etc., and after a few had out of curiosity visited the exhibition the wonderful sight of Meyrick soon got spread about amongst them, and no doubt that is the reason of Sir Frederick’s visit himself with the result he gives in his book.

The showing of Meyrick never appeared to any of us as being in any way detrimental to him–I mean painful. He was never turned out of the workhouse. We made an application from the proper authorities for his discharge, and after giving the guarantee required we obtained his release, after which he was not only much better in health but as he frequently stated much happier. He would never listen to the idea of returning to the workhouse. Moreover he was never exhibited excepting in three towns before coming to London and I am positive that he never entered a caravan in his life.

It is doubtless true that he never knew a parent’s affection. But I can honestly state that as far as his comfort was concerned while with us, no parent could have studied their own child more than any of all the four of us studied Joseph Meyrick’s.

Your report from the book states Sir. F. Treves says that ‘His miseries on exhibition continued for 21 years. ['] I can prove without a doubt that Meyrick’s period of exhibiting did not last but about 30 months. That is all I wish to state here, with the exception that the big majority of showmen are in the habit of treating their novelties as human beings, and in a large number of cases as one of their own, and not like beasts. Thanking you in anticipation, yours etc. Tom Norman (Silver King).

(World’s Fair, February 24, 1923, p. 5) 

Source: Public Domain Review

Learn more about Joseph Meyrick's life here.