Oral History Interview with Mary W. Duncan

Duncan: I had no personal knowledge of any such case. I know, for instance, there was one, one new mother and she did not live a great, she lived up on the hill behind the town. She had an embolism of the lung following childbirth. And that occurred a few days after the birth of the child. And they called me to see her. And of course I recognized what it was immediately because she had pain in the lung, and the sounds and so on. And I tried to get the doctor to see her although I realized they had no money. And if they could have gotten paid by the fiscal court for a visit to see her, I think they would have gone. But nobody wanted to go because they realized that she would be a fatal case. And they didn’t want that. They didn’t want to go and then have the patient die and they not do anything. Because there was really nothing they could do. She really needed to be in a modern hospital to be saved. But it was a pity that she, she lived for several days, and I knew she was going to die. And no doctor would go near her.

Interviewer: It must have been an awful−

Duncan: Even to alleviate pain, you know, or anything like that. Maybe some of them did get compensation from the fiscal court, but I have no knowledge of it at all. I do know this. That when, for instance, one child died in a family, a very poor family, and they went to the county judge. And he was the county judge then, was a part of the fiscal court, I guess he still is. And he provided the, he provided them with the money to buy a coffin. And they had, I think the county had coffins for paupers. Which were very plain wooden contraptions. And they gave this father one of those coffins. Now that, that was the only thing I know of personally where the county helped the poor sick.

Interviewer: It must have been an awful frustrating situation for you, having seen good medical care in the war and Louisville hospitals.

Duncan: Well, yes, it was frustrating. And what I did was just such a little drop in the bucket. And even immunizing these schoolchildren, the local doctors resented my doing that. They thought that they should be doing that and be paid for it. Well, anyway, when I went back in ’42, that was twenty years later, of course. Then the state department of health had been organized. And they had an office, I think, in every county. Anyway, they had one in Wayne County. And I think Dr. Kelsay was as you say, you probably know more about that than I do, the third or fourth health officer that they had. And they had employed other registered public health nurses.

Interviewer: At this time, you went by yourself alone. You and the Model-T Ford going up these long roads.

Duncan: Yes. Yes.

Interviewer: How many schools−

Duncan: Toll roads, too!

Interviewer: Toll roads. Is that right? You had to pay a toll?

Duncan: I think Wayne County was the last county in the state to do away with toll roads. And it was FDR and his social programs, WPA and so forth, that swept the toll roads out of existence. Because the, Ira Bell who was county public health, or public school superintendent, during all the period of my employment there as public health nurse, he was county school superintendent. Well, he practically ran the fiscal court, too. But he, he availed himself of every possible social program that came along, was established during the Franklin D. Roosevelt period, see.

Interviewer: Very political man. What was his name?

Duncan: Yes, he was. And there’s a man that you might interview. Ira Bell.

Interviewer: How’s that first name spelled?

Duncan: I-r-a. And he is still living, and still there in Monticello. And he, I don’t know what his job is now, but he wound up as county judge. And bought, when the laws, you know, the state legislature is constantly changing laws. Well they changed the laws to where the county judge had to be a lawyer. Then he lost his job for he was not a lawyer.

Interviewer: That was just recently.

Duncan: Yes, just recently, he was county judge.

Interviewer: He’s still living.

Duncan: He would still be county judge today, I guess, if that hadn’t come along. But what he does now, I don’t know.

Interviewer: Well now when you were working with the schools, about how many schools did you have in the county?

Duncan: Well now, in ’22, I don’t know. Because everything was more or less haphazard. But when I went back in ’42, there were seventy-two one-room schoolhouses in that county. And the first year, I think I visited, no, not every one. I think one was closed for lack of students or something. I visited every one of those schools. Of course, they started early in the summer. You know, their school term. Because when bad weather came, they couldn’t go to school. There would be no transportation, and the roads were bad, and the children couldn’t walk. Many of them had to walk a long distance over very poor roads. But by the end of this twenty years, Ira Bell had consolidated these schools to where there was about thirty in the entire county. Of course, the roads, the WPA had built good roads through all the principal areas of the county. And where there had been three or four small high schools out in the county, then we had only one county high school. Ira Bell had that built with WPA labor also. And it is a good high school today.

Interviewer: Is that Monticello?

Duncan: That’s Monticello. But there has always been pressure to prevent consolidation of the Monticello high school and the county high school. They have never come, they are never united yet, but I imagine they will someday. But I think Ira Bell never wanted it. Naturally animosity grew up between the city school system and the county school system, you know. So they fought each other, and they have never united where they have only one big high school.

Interviewer: Now in 1922, when you’d visit these schools, were they sort of like the schools that you grew up in as a child back in Indiana? Just one room?

Duncan: They were one room, but not nearly, in fact, if you go to a one-room school in Kentucky today, rural school, it would resemble the school that I went to as a child in Indiana. We were that far, Indiana was that far ahead of Kentucky.

Interviewer: I see.

Duncan: You know, Indiana’s noted for its good schools. Good education system.

Interviewer: So in 1922, the schools there in the country areas just didn’t measure up anywhere near what the ones in Indiana…

Duncan: Oh, no.

Interviewer: …Even you’d gone to twenty years before.

Duncan: No, no, not at all.

Interviewer: What was something about the schools that indicated the lack of quality?

Duncan: Well, the preparation of the teachers, for one thing. Of course, Ira Bell had to employ whom he could get to teach. Some of the teachers were Berea graduates, and they were good. They were excellent. And of course he gave them all of the good schools on the good roads very near Monticello. But the teachers who maybe had just graduated from one of these small high schools in Wayne County at some time or other and had been teaching ever since, and of course he didn’t want to dismiss them. And he would give them the more isolated schools. And they were not in any, well, they knew, they knew how to teach after a fashion, but they were not trained teachers in any way, shape or manner. They were more or less poor high school graduates is about as far as they went.

Interviewer: Were they cooperative with you when you came in?

Duncan: Oh, yes. All the time. I enjoyed, I enjoyed, they cooperated with me. And did for everything that I would want them to do and they could do. And I had no complaints about that. I enjoyed my visits in the schools. And the hardest thing was my frustration about getting anything done. For instance, for the poor cancer patients that I would discover. But now, now they can send them here to Lexington, and they can get treatment even though they are indigent. At least, I don’t know, maybe that’s going to be taken away with all this cutting down of federal funds and so forth. They may not be able to do that. I don’t know.

Interviewer: What about, do you remember about the transportation in that period? You told the toll roads. How far did the roads radiate out from Monticello?

Duncan: Well, not many miles. There was one road between Monticello and the nearest railroad station, which was not Somerset, but Burnside. That, that was the best and the longest. And there were several toll gates on that road, you know. Every so many miles there would be a toll gate across the road, you know, just a big pole. And someone lived there, toll keeper. And you had to go and stop, and he would come out and tell you what you owed, and you would pay it. However, the local Red Cross got me a free passage on all the toll roads. There was, let me see, there was that one to Burnside. There was one to Parnell. There was one to Cooper. And a short one out to Oil Valley, but how far that went, I don’t know. But the Red Cross was able to get me a free passage ticket that I could show them on all of the toll roads but one. I don’t know, that was the one to Parnell, I think. Of course, you know, how toll roads were in those days. Just local people of means got together and built a road − graded it and graveled it or rocked it, whatever, there was no blacktop, of course − out so far. And then they would charge toll of not pedestrians, but every vehicle. You know, wagons. And there were very few cars, I’ll tell you. When I went to Monticello, there were very few cars there. I know there was only one other woman that had a car. And she was Miss Bassett. And her brother had a hardwood mill there in Wayne County. And they made golf, not sticks, but what do you call, the heads to a, yes, mallets, you know. because they could find the good hardwood there in Wayne County. And she, she had a car. She had a Ford. She was the only woman that drove a car besides myself. And maybe there was a dozen other cars in the town. Even the doctors didn’t, well, Dr. Rankin had a car. And Dr. Rice had, no, Dr. Rice wasn’t even there then.

Interviewer: Is Dr. Rankin living?

Duncan: But Dr. Carter had a car. Dr. Young did not have a car. He just drove a horse and buggy. And of course those that didn’t have a car didn’t, couldn’t practice many miles from the city, because they just couldn’t travel with the horse and buggy very far and get home at night.

Interviewer: Time consuming−

Duncan: Sometimes they stayed on, they had a labor case out in the county, I know.

Interviewer: As an illustration of transportation, if you could remember. I know there’s a road that runs from Monticello to Sterns now. It’s paved all the way.

Duncan: Yes.

Interviewer: I think that’s the road that went out to Oil Valley. Now how−

Duncan: Yes, that was the Oil Valley Road. That was the way to go to Sterns.

Interviewer: And that’s all the graded road you had, just to Oil Valley. Not any further? Do you remember the condition of that road as you went out, how far it was from Monticello?

Duncan: Yeah. I drove my car, of course, as far as I could. And during the summer, if it was dry weather, I could go over dry roads that were rough and not paved at all, but I could get over them. Up to a point. So how far I went that year, I know I went to Oil Valley. And I went beyond Oil Valley. But how far, I don’t remember. I didn’t go to Coopersville.

Interviewer: You didn’t get to Coopersville?

Duncan: No, I didn’t get to Coopersville. I would leave my car, and then I would walk. Or sometimes I could rent a horse from some of the farmers nearby and ride a horse. Which I, which I did quite often.

Interviewer: Where did you learn to ride a horse? Back on the farm in Indiana?

Duncan: Oh, I was raised on a farm, you see. So a horse was nothing new to me. And of course those horses were just farm horses, work horses. And you never got them beyond a trot, at the very best. They weren’t spirited thoroughbreds.

Interviewer: And when you−

Duncan: By any means.

Interviewer: When you got on a horse after you left your car, you would just be on little trails or−

Duncan: Oh, yes. I would just ask how to get to the next school or the next house if I knew what I was going to see, and they would tell me. And I was a good walker in those days, and could walk miles up hill and down. [laughs] And I was, you know, blessed with good health and familiar with rural conditions because I was raised on a farm. And I wasn’t afraid of dogs, for instance. My grandson now is afraid even to walk over strange streets in a city because dogs (?). And−

Interviewer: I imagine there were some rather vicious dogs around, weren’t there? If you knew them, you weren’t as frightened by them.

Duncan: I was never bitten by a dog in all of my experience. I always could handle dogs, and I still can. I would just talk to them. I know I’ve approached, what do you call these, where they made whiskey?

Interviewer: Moonshine stills?

Duncan: Moonshine, I remember going near a moonshine. I didn’t realize I was getting near one till I was right up on it. And the dogs came roaring out, you know, at me! But I could talk to dogs. And soon they just walked along by me. I saw what was going on, and I just got information from them and left them alone completely. I never said anything about, I wasn’t there to enforce any laws or anything.

Interviewer: How did people react to your car? Since it was so new, and you being a woman driving it that way.

Duncan: Well, you see, I very seldom got off of those toll roads. And so, well, nobody, nobody ever, I would just stop the car. I think I took the key out. But I never thought of locking it or doing anything of that sort. And there was nothing in there they could, would want to steal, anyway. And I would be gone maybe for hours before I got back to it. And would drive into town. And nobody ever bothered. All the children would come and circle around it and they would look at it. And they would watch me drive off. And I know they all dreamed of days when they would own one and could drive a car and so forth. And I didn’t blame them.

Interviewer: Now when you, you say you left after this one year was over. Why did you leave, basically?

Duncan: Well, the Red Cross, local Red Cross chapter had run out of money. And they couldn’t pay my salary for another year. And they really had no assets, excepting the car. And that was a Ford car. And in those days, it wasn’t worth but, I don’t know, three or four hundred dollars. And then they wanted me to put on a campaign and raise money. Well, I didn’t want to do that. I wanted something more permanent and more secure than that. And really, I had visions of going back to Louisville, because when I left Louisville the school, the department of education had offered me a job as a school nurse. And I told them I had a commitment to work a year in the mountains and I had to. They said, “Well, when you come back, you come back and we’ll give you a job as a school nurse in the school department of education in Louisville.” Of course, I thought I was going right back there in a year. But then, by the time I got ready to leave Louisville, I was interested in getting married. And I was offered this job in Woodford County, which I thought was very near Lexington. And I could stay for a while until we had, we had plans to build a house and furnish it. And then we would get married, and I would go down back to Monticello to live. Well, I wanted to be near a city where I could buy furniture and buy household equipment and things like that. So I went to Woodford County. Well as it happened, I took the place of another nurse who had just temporary, she had been there several years and they liked her very well. And she had resigned to take a sister to Arizona. It was a thing to do then, to change climates if you had tuberculosis. They thought the Southwest was a very good climate. She took her sister there, and her sister died in a few months. Well of course then she wanted to come back to Woodford County. And I think they had implied or promised her the job. And so I thought she had every right to it, too. And by that time, I realized that Lexington wasn’t such a big city, either. It was mainly a big country town. I had an opportunity to enter the Veterans Administration at Fort Thomas, which was right adjacent to Cincinnati. And I thought well, that suits me fine because there I can get together the things I want to do. And when the house is built and so forth, I can resign and go back to Monticello. Which I did.

Interviewer: Now when you got back to Monticello, then you married this lawyer who was widowed with children.

Duncan: Yeah. Yeah. Clarence Duncan.

Interviewer: So you had your hands full with the children.

Duncan: Yes I did. And I was very anxious to have a child. And he was very willing to have a child. And in, that was in 1925. Well Joe was born in 1927.

[30 minutes]

[End Side A. Begin Side B.]

Interviewer: When you moved back to Monticello and married an established family. Talks some about that and anything you can remember, even though you were not directly related to healthcare at that time, anything you can remember would be helpful.

Duncan: Yes. Well, I didn’t follow the health, public health work. I don’t know exactly when the first health officer came there. But you probably have that on your records. Did you go to the health department in Monticello?

Interviewer: I will. I haven’t yet.

Duncan: Oh, well you can get all the definite records at the time there. And so I didn’t follow that. And other nurses came to Monticello, wives of people, you know, and so forth. It wasn’t until the war came along in 1942 and they were in such desperate need of nurses that I thought of going back to work. And by that time, my child had, I think his last, I think he was in the eighth grade, probably, by that time. Maybe in his first year of high school. And so there was no reason at all why I shouldn’t go back to work full time. And of course I interviewed the health officers there and found out that they had a nurse there who wanted to leave very badly. She was from Louisville, and she wanted to go back there. And so I had no, I had no problem in getting employed in, it was May, 1942. Well of course that was when everybody was going into the, into service, you know. The United States was sending many soldiers overseas.

Interviewer: What was your situation then in terms of the health department? Did you have a little office? And what staff did you have at that time, ’42?

Duncan: Well, we had an office in the Rankin building. Two rooms. And there was a health officer and one clerk and myself. No, no sanitarians. But sometime after that, sanitarians came into existence. I don’t know whether, you’ll have to find out that from the health department. Just when they joined our staff. And sometimes for a special reason, for instance, this polio campaign, immunization campaign. We had extra clerical help, too. And the state furnished us with extra clerical help for those occasions. But by and large, our staff consisted of the health officer and myself. We never had more than one nurse in the whole twenty-one years that I was employed in that county, we had only the one nurse.

Interviewer: It must have been a heavy workload.

Duncan: It was. And I was expected to do much social, social work as well as health work. Until these programs established by FDR like the child welfare and, came into existence, then they established the child welfare department in town. And I was relieved of all of the care of the needy children and needy mothers.

Interviewer: In addition to your schoolwork, did you get involved before some of these programs took effect in mental health work?

Duncan: Well, it was during that period that you see the structure of the state department of health kept changing with every legislature, I think. It’s still changing today. They don’t even call it that. What is it?

Interviewer: Human resources department.

Duncan: I never can remember such a name. I can never know what that might comprise. But they had a department of, they had a division of mental health. And they had a division of tuberculosis. And a division of child welfare. All those with their specialized heads. Doctors who specialized in those things. And of course as far as mental health was concerned, I was supposed to locate, to spot, and report every case of retardation that I came across. Of course I, that was no trouble. I came across with the young ones in the schools. Up to school age, I didn’t. But as soon as they were in school, the teachers would report them to me. And of course the older ones, I guess we had plenty of retarded older ones. But they were nobody, they just ignored those. Then actual insanity cases could be sent to state insane asylums as they called them. And there we sent them to two places, to Danville, or outside of Louisville, where they, I think there’s still one there.

Interviewer: There’s one here, I think, too. Isn’t there a state mental institution out here in Lexington?

Duncan: Not that I know of. There’s two veterans−

Interviewer: There’s veterans−

Duncan: There’s a veterans’ institution. And there’s mental health, they mainly take drug cases. I don’t know what they do here. But anyhow, they were then, the really insane were, the families who would bring them in to the county judge and the county judge would have to send to these asylums. Well, treatment of mental health was not much in those days. It was before they began using these modern drugs to treat mental cases. So they were, they just mainly usually just stayed there. But in time, they got to treating them with sedative drugs and so forth. And they would send them back to the families. Then I would receive reports that they had come back, and where they were, and their condition. And I was supposed to visit them periodically. And often they had to be sent back. But I had to see whether they were taking their drugs regularly, how they were conducting themselves, what the family thought about it, so on and so forth. Of course, that put a big load on me that I hadn’t done before. Then of course, retarded children were supposed to have, to be given some education up to the point that they could be benefited. Well of course the teachers knew nothing about teaching retarded children. They had no special training and they didn’t know how far they could go with these children. And some of the children were not so bad. But some were just, and the family did want to send them to school, though. Of course, they were very destructive and would keep the schools in a disturbing element, you know, often. So the teachers had to refuse to teach them.

Interviewer: During the, during the war, in preparation for the war, what role did the health department play?

Duncan: Well, as I, I think I told you, we were a screening station for all of the draftees. The draft board would send us maybe a hundred or a hundred and fifty in one day to screen. And the local doctors were very helpful. They would come and help us in those days because we had to take blood tests of each of those men. And we had to get their immunization history. We had to, a history was attached to each one at the end of the day as to what shots they had had, and when they had them. And we gave them any shots that they were due at that time, we would have to give them that. We did, for instance, many smallpox immunizations, if a man didn’t have one. And maybe their first time for a shot, and so forth.

Interviewer: Did, were you still expected to supervise midwives at that period? Or had midwives sort of petered out by that time?

Duncan: No, the midwives had not petered out. [laughs] I was expected to do it, but I must say, they had put so many regulations and had written letters. Of course, I had names and addresses of these midwives sent to the state health. And they would receive letters from the state health department telling them all of the things they had to have. They had to have a bag and an apron. And they had to have sterile twine. And they had to have scissors. And they had to, and then they had to carry blanks for the birth records and so on. Well many of the midwives just quit practicing when they found that they were being followed so closely. They didn’t want to get all these things. Because when I went to see them, I would look in their bags, you know. And their aprons would be dirty and so forth. So I think that all but the good midwives were eliminated by the time I left there in ’63. But several were still practicing. And the doctors respected them, too, because they had a good record. And when they had difficulty, they would call doctors. And doctors could go because they had good roads. And doctors could go to any section of the county by that time. After I left Monticello, they built a hospital there. And now I think no doctors do home deliveries at all. And I don’t think they have any midwives there at all. And all of the expectant mothers come to the hospital. And I don’t know, if they can’t pay, maybe the fiscal court pays the hospital. I don’t know. I presume so.

Interviewer: Of course they have Medicaid now.

Duncan: Yes, they, those families can have Medicaid. Or they get some kind of public health, I’m sure.

Interviewer: What was your opinion of most of the midwives? Were they quite competent, most of them? What was your thinking as you related to them? In your earlier period and later period.

Duncan: Well, some of them were very competent. And they were clean. And they recognized the importance of cleanliness. And they recognized signs of danger when the mother had danger, and they would not proceed beyond that. If it was possible to call a doctor, they called one. Whether he got there or not, I don’t know. But they would attempt to call one. And other midwives, of course they were, they were not trained. And they were paid very little. Maybe not, maybe nothing in the way of money. Maybe they were given something. You know, just by neighbors. Maybe chickens or garden stuff or something. You just can’t imagine how scarce money, actual hard cash, is to those people. And of course things are so different now that what they consider now hardships were no hardships then at all.

Interviewer: Now there was not, there was no formal training program for a midwife that you remember, in your tenure.

Duncan: No, there was not.

Interviewer: There just wasn’t the staff.

Duncan: And I had no time to establish midwife classes. And the midwives were so scattered that it would have been difficult for them to attend more than once, you know. And I, with all the other things I had to do, I did not attempt to have any midwife classes when I was a nurse there.

Interviewer: How many hours did you work a day in a week?

Duncan: Well, our regular hours were from eight in the morning to four in the afternoon. And we worked six days a week. Because it wasn’t until after I left in ’63 that they omitted, they omitted Saturday as a workday. Saturday was really our busiest day when I was there because that was the day when all the country people could come to town. The children were out of school, the week’s work was done. And if they had produce to sell, they would bring it to town. Saturday was our busiest day. And I never thought of complaining about working on Saturday. But immediately after I left the department, I learned that the nurse, that the health department was closed on Saturday. And of course that must have meant a big change in their program. The nurse who took my place was and is the wife of the editor of the Wayne County Outlook. And he was a World War II veteran, and while he was a patient at the veterans’ hospital in Louisville, he met her. She was one of the nurses who cared for him. And so they eventually married and she came to Monticello to live. But, like me, she had two boys and did not practice for some years. Then, when I got ready to retire, I was then sixty-eight years old, past the retirement age. Our supervisor, they had a nurse supervisor with a headquarters in Frankfort, I think, or headquarters in Frankfort, would visit us periodically during the year. She began looking for someone to replace me, since I was going to retire. And I told her about, I said, “There is a trained nurse right here in Monticello. And she might be interested.” So we went to see her. And Mrs. Simpson, she by that time, her children were older, and she was free to take a job. And she was willing to try. And she is there today. And this is, next year will be her twenty years employment. And I’m sure she’ll retire next year, because she will get her state employee’s pension then. You know, if you work for the state twenty years− it might have changed now. But anyway, when I worked for them, at the end of twenty years, if you worked twenty years with the state department in any capacity, I think, you could get a pension. And so I completed, I passed my twenty years, because it was twenty-one years before they found a replacement. So since that, I’ve been largely living on social security and my state pension. Of course, I went into the Peace Corps when I retired.

Interviewer: Is that right?

Duncan: That was a good way to ease, ease away from Monticello.

Interviewer: Where did you serve?

Duncan: Well, my first two years, I served in Turkey. And then I went back, after I returned to the States, and went through another session of training, I returned to Iran for two years. Because I already had a Moslem background, you see, I was familiar with the culture in Turkey. So they wanted to send me to Iran. Which is very much like Turkey, excepting Turkey is a republic and Iran had a shah.

Interviewer: What was your impression of Iran before the revolution?

Duncan: I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the shah. He was, he was just, I think everything the people said about him secretly was true. He did not, he would not listen to criticism. He called it dissent, and everybody that opened his mouth was put in prison. So nobody criticized the government in my hearing. And I was established in a big city of Kermanshah. And it is right now in the middle of the Iraq-Iran war area, Kermanshah is. It was right on the border of Iraq in southwestern, southwestern Iran, where I was established.

Interviewer: How were the health conditions there compared to rural Wayne County?

Duncan: Well, they never heard of public health there. I worked in a, in a nurses’ training school there. And we had, we had over 200 students, all from fourteen to twenty-four years of age, boys and girls, in that training school. That was one way they could get, they could continue their education and get room and board and some education. What are you doing?

Interviewer: I’m just taking your picture. Go ahead.

Duncan: [laughs] Well−

Interviewer: Go ahead and talk about the situation.

Duncan: There’s no need, that’s another phase of my life completely.

Interviewer: That’s all right. That’s good. Just go ahead and talk about it. That’s a very interesting stage of your life. I’m particularly interested in−

Duncan: Well, but that had nothing to do with rural public health in Kentucky. Of course, I was fortunate to have a teacher in the school who knew some English. And he interpreted for me. I could, I could tell the students, I could teach practical nursing very well. And they understood it. But the whys and wherefores of things, I didn’t know enough about the language to explain that to them. And this interpreter came in handy there. At least he attempted to. And I don’t know what he said, but the student seemed to understand him. Of course, this, this training school was connected with the one hospital in, now I’m talking about Turkey.

Interviewer: Well, let me say, I’d like to do another tape about your experience in the Peace Corps. I appreciate you helping me on Wayne County. You’ve done an excellent job. Very good. I appreciate it very much. I think we’re at the end of the tape.

Duncan: Well I think you, I think you’ve done enough Wayne County. You’ll find out more if you go to the health department in Wayne County. There’s nobody there now that was on the staff when I was there. Excepting the nurse, Mrs. Simpson is still there.

Interviewer: I’ll talk to her and some of the sanitation officers.

Duncan: Well, yes. One of the sanitation officers who retired, but he still lives in Monticello, his name is Paris Bowles. And I would advise you to interview him. He can tell you all about the sanitation program there. How it started and evolved. You know, pasteurizing milk, that was a big step. That did away with infantile tuberculosis, for instance, and all this tuberculosis of the bones in children caught from cows.

Interviewer: And the whole water system. He could probably tell the history of−

Duncan: The water system, we did away with all the springs and−

[120 minutes]

[End Tape 2, Side B. Begin Tape 3, Side A.]

17.E.1C