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My every inclination implores me to begin this paper with the words ‘once upon a time.’ I remind myself, however, that those are the words of fairy tales and ordinarily predict the happiest of endings. The story found in this paper is not one of happiness, but rather of forbidden love, disease, sickness, and death. It is the story of my great aunt, Jesse Modean Hodge Wimberley, and her struggle for survival at the hands of one of America’s most dreaded diseases in the mid 1900s-tuberculosis. It is a story of freedoms lost and one that has waited nearly sixty years to be told.
Tuberculosis (TB) may be widely described as "a chronic communicable bacterial disease caused by tubercle bacilli (Cohen and Durham 3)," leaving the infected person with symptoms such as blood-streaked sputum, fatigue, weight loss, low-grade fever, sweating and/or chills at nights, and aching chest pain (Cohen and Durham 7). By the late 19th century, tuberculosis had become a primary cause of death for Americans and others in the Western world. In the United States, some eastern cities "reported to have tuberculosis death rates of 400 per 100,000 population" (Scharer and McAdam 2). In 1945, the tuberculosis death rate in the United States was "39 per 100,000 population" (Scharer and McAdam 3). Known by such names as "consumption, white death, white plague, and...the Captain of All These Men of Death, a diagnosis of TB before the 1940s was often a death sentence" (Cohen and Durham xi).
| Living in the tiny community of Griffin Flat near Appleton, Arkansas, in 1935, my great- aunt, Modean Hodge, was eighteen and desperately in love with a man nearly twice her age. Her parents, my great-grandparents, had gone to great lengths to keep their daughter away from the handsome Mr. Earl Wimberley, sending her to a neighboring state to live for a time with relatives. The love was forbidden not due to the age of Modean’s suitor, but because it was rumored among the community’s citizens that the man had been diagnosed with tuberculosis. | click on photo for enlargement |
In rural Arkansas in the 1930s, little was known about the disease and its transmission. Few, if any, county folk knew of Prussian physician, Robert Koch, and his "concept of tuberculosis as an infectious disease" (Teller 17). Before Koch, physicians had believed that "the disease was a hereditary, constitutional malady, a belief confirmed by their own observations that the disease often developed at long intervals in succeeding generations of a family" (Teller 17).
In Majorie Vicker Sutcliffe’s reminiscences of her family’s struggle with tuberculosis in the early 1900s in rural Missouri, she writes:
Like Sutcliffe, my great-aunt’s family was not familiar with terms such as ‘droplet nuclei’ or ‘mycobacterium’; however, they did believe, as did most by the 1930s, that the disease was contagious. Consequently, my great-grandmother did everything in her power to keep her daughter from her love and certain death. Nevertheless, when Modean reached the age of eighteen, there was little her mother could do. On a chilly November night, huddled close together before the headlights of an old, backwoods preacher’s car, Modean and Earl were married. With their kiss, a young woman’s fate was sealed, and a mother’s worst nightmare realized.
My grandmother, Iva Hodge Burris, who was thirteen at the time of the marriage, remembers and described for me in an interview how her older sister’s decision "broke Mama’s heart". Additionally, Modean’s sister-in-law, eighty-six-year-old Louise Wimberley Malone of Carruthersville, Missouri, recalled the event for me in a telephone interview, explaining that Modean was unafraid of the disease and "didn’t no more think she’d catch it than nothin".
The couple lived happily for a time. Though Earl battled against minor symptoms of the disease such as chronic cough, by all accounts their life together was filled with joy and laughter. This carefree, cheerful time was, however, only to last a season. Despite her beliefs, or possibly her faith in the power of love, Modean contracted the disease soon after the marriage.
Consistent with the early symptoms of pulmonary tuberculosis, Modean gradually began to lose weight, become fatigued, and cough. (Teller 2) Research indicates that such symptoms "do not alarm the host until the disease is far advanced (Teller 2)," and such was the case with Modean. The tubercles in her lungs ruptured into the bronchi, spreading the disease into new regions of the lung and making her an "open" case (Teller 2). The once strong, healthy body slowly became overtaken by the invisible invader, and Modean henceforth remained locked within its prison. By the time she and Earl entered the Missouri State Sanatorium in Mount Vernon, Missouri, on December 14, 1941, Modean’s diagnosis was listed as "Pul. TB. Far advanced, active unimproved" (MO St. Sanatorium). Whatever joys or freedoms my great-aunt had possessed in her short existence were now, at the ripe old age of twenty-four, to be taken from her as life in the sanatorium began.
Since Koch’s 1882 recognition of the microorganism responsible for transmitting the illness from person-to-person, the movement to govern the dreaded disease had begun. Sanatoria dominated the medical campaign against the white plague in the United States, "and they similarly dominated the medical effort to build resistance" (Feldberg 52). Once isolated from the household environment, those infected could undergo specialized therapy regimens in tuberculosis sanatoria.
The sanatoria facilities were normally "located in the mountains or in rural areas, where it was felt that breathing the pure, rarified air would help combat the disease" (Scharer and McAdam 5). Similarly, the Missouri State Sanatorium was selected for its elevation. Located atop a wooded hill overlooking the charming little community of Mount Vernon, Missouri, "folks would come to call it "Sanatorium Hill" and eventually, simply, "The Hill" " (Lawrence Co. Hist. Society 187).
Missouri law provided for admission of two classes of patients to the Missouri State Sanatorium, all of whom must have been residents of the state for at least a year, namely free and private patients (State of MO 646). Having moved to Missouri shortly after their marriage, Modean and Earl Wimberley were considered citizens of the state, and because the couple were unable to pay for care at the facility, they applied for and were granted free admission.
By this time, Modean’s family in Arkansas had received the news of her sickness. The mother who had been overcome with grief, guilt, and anger could now only helplessly wait and pray for Modean’s recovery, since visiting the institution was an impossibility for the family. The distance between the Griffin Flat community in Arkansas, and Mount Vernon, Missouri, was approximately two-hundred miles, and with one old car and very little money, the Hodge family had no means by which to make the arduous journey. "There just wasn’t no way we could go," my grandmother explained. " We wanted to, but there just wasn’t no way we could" (Burris, Interview).
Modean remained in the sanatorium, her illness progressing, and her once 140-pound frame now reduced to barely ninety-five pounds. What is more, her beloved husband had been taken from her, moved to a separate facility on the sanatorium grounds. In a letter to my grandmother, dated January 18, 1942, Modean explains, "They moved him over to the Eaton building, about 200 yards from this building. They moved him Saturday. He will be able to get up more over there."
| It was for the love of this man that she found herself in Mount Vernon. She had been unafraid of the consequences of that love and had scoffed at those who bade her to leave him. Instead of leaving, she had remained steadfast at his side. Now, because of circumstances beyond her control, he was gone, and she, without the ability to go to him or to her family, could only watch as her already frail body continued to deteriorate as the disease tightened its deadly hold. |  click on photo for enlargement |
One must be reminded that the words are not those of an elderly individual, but those of a twenty-five year old woman. Slowly, yet steadily, Modean’s every freedom was being taken from her; her freedom to live, her freedom of command over her body, and her freedom to reach beyond the sanatorium’s walls to her loved ones. Only in letters did she communicate with her family, and her loneliness continued to mount. In a letter to my grandmother dated January 18, 1942, Modean writes, "You said you get lonesome for Mama. Sometimes, what do you think about me. I never get to see any one that I know, only Earl and him only once a week." This small freedom, the ability to be in the presence of her husband for a short time once a week, was also stolen from her. In July of 1942, seven months after the couple’s arrival at the sanatorium, Modean’s weekly visits with Earl ended with his death. In a letter to her family dated July 11, 1942, Modean writes:
| Soon after receiving news of Earl’s death, Modean’s family began making preparations to retrieve their lost girl from Mount Vernon. Even as the money for the journey was being saved, Modean’s will and health were increasingly fading. In October 1942, she writes to her sister in Arkansas, "sis be glad to hear from me at all now. For I have been feeling terrible bad. I guess I worry too much and get too lonesome. But I sure am tired of this place. Sometimes I wish it was all over" (Wimberley, 14 October 1942 letter). |  click on photo for enlargement |
Later, that same month, her broken will and intense desire to see her family are revealed in a letter home. "...your...sis isn’t going to be here long. She is going down too fast. I have been feeling awful. Sis I sure wish you could come see me. It is awful here by myself" (Wimberley, October letter).
The once strong, willful young woman had lost her desire to live. The only hope to which she had been clinging was the belief that her loved ones might come to take her from Mount Vernon. When they did not come because of circumstances she may or may not have understood, her fight for life became too great to bear alone. The control she had once possessed over life was gone along with her husband, her health, and her dreams. Though the Mount Vernon facility had been described as "as beautiful a location as could possibly be found (Harris 6)," confined within its walls, intensely ill and far from the family she loved, no beauty could be found in the young woman’s mournful existence.
It was in 1942, on another chilly November night that Modean Hodge Wimberley gave up her struggle and passed away alone in her bed in the Missouri State Sanatorium where she had remained for 197 days. She was twenty-five years old.
In a letter written by my grandmother October 30, 1942, just two short days before her sister’s death, she states:
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The letter was returned to my grandmother, received at the sanatorium after Modean’s death. The promise of the family’s arrival and words of hope and encouragement came too late. Modean was buried next to Earl in Maple Wood Cemetery in Carruthersville, Missouri, reunited with her beloved only in death.
In Mount Vernon, Missouri, the Missouri State Sanatorium still sits atop Chigger Hill, overlooking the sleepy little town of Mount Vernon, though the facility is now known as the Missouri Rehabilitation Center. The center "is a 136-bed rehabilitation hospital committed to providing compassionate rehabilitation services, treatment for respiratory conditions and related research and education for the citizens of Missouri" (The MRC Experience). The Missouri Rehabilitation Center "continues to provide a variety of services to tuberculosis patients and is home to the state tuberculosis testing lab" (The MRC Experience).
I recently toured the facility and was allowed to enter a room designated for tuberculosis patients. Much has changed since the days of my great-aunt’s stay. Today’s treatment consists of much more than an open window and a cool, flowing breeze. The Missouri Rehabilitation Center provides today’s tuberculosis patients with specialized treatments in their state-of-the-art isolation unit. The facility also attends to its tuberculosis patients’ needs with acute-care nursing, nutritional support, therapy and tuberculosis education.
While so little could be done for my great aunt during her stay at the Mount Vernon facility, I am comforted that the advances in medicine now allow for the health and recovery of hundreds of tuberculosis sufferers. Similarly, Majorie Vicker Sutcliffe reflects on such advances in the treatment of the disease in relation to the death of her mother:
The hymn spoke of a lost lamb that had escaped from the fold and stood crying in the night. The lamb was "sick and helpless and ready to die (Sutcliffe 87)", but the shepherd searched for his lost one and finding it, took it back into the fold. Sutcliffe continues:
I never witnessed first-hand the suffering of my great-aunt, but the words of her letters fill me with great sorrow. Though the effects of the disease were tremendous, I am unsure of what was more painful for her, the tuberculosis symptoms or loneliness. During the course of my research, I read and listened to account after account of miraculous recoveries at the Mount Vernon facility. Consistently, each story seemed to glow with the sense of community and tender, devoted care the sanatorium’s patients experienced. Unlike so many others who left Mount Vernon with fond memories and thankful hearts, my great-aunt’s story ends in tragedy rather than a miraculous triumph. To reflect on her ordeal is almost more than I can bear as I read Modean’s hand-written words sixty years after her death. The anguish she suffered seems to emanate from the pages, providing clear images of her last days.
Recently in my grandmother’s home, I discovered the Bible Modean took with her to Mount Vernon. Among the tattered pages, only one passage is marked--Exodus 20, more commonly known as the Ten Commandments. As I reread the passage over and over again, searching for a window to her thoughts, one verse continually speaks to me. Exodus 20:12 reads, "Honor thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee" (75). Perhaps in the final days of her illness, Modean yearned for the opportunity to reverse time and heed her mother’s vehement warning.
The story of my great-aunt is a tragic one of ultimate loss and misery. Though her circumstances were chosen of her own will, her desire to escape tuberculosis and live a long, happy life with the man she loved is admirable. Modean’s plight to cling to her freedoms ended in defeat; however, her courage displayed in the darkest moments of her life shines on.
I made the trip to the lovely, little town of Mount Vernon in October of this year for two reasons: one, to collect information relevant to my research and two, because I wanted Modean to know, somehow, that her family came. As I walked the grounds where the structure in which she was housed once stood, now a grassy, oak-lined recreation area, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. It was as though I could rest, knowing that now, with my visit, so, too, could her memory.
Burris, Iva Hodge. Personal interview. 23 October 2001.
- - -. Letter to Modean Wimberly. 30 October 1942.
Cohen, Felissa L., and Jerry Durham. Tuberculosis: A Sourcebook for Nursing Practice. New
Feldberg, Georgina D. Disease and Class: Tuberculosis and the Shaping of Modern North American Society.
New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1995.
Harris, J. A. Address. Meeting of the Southwest Missouri Medical Society. Springfield,
Hodge Family Photograph. Personal photograph. 1939.
King James Bible. Philadelphia: John C. Winston Company.
Lawrence County Historical Society. Down Turnback Trails: A Sketch Book of Lawrence County, Missouri, 1845-1995.
Springfield: Lawrence County Historical Society, 1995.
The MRC Experience. Mount Vernon: University of Missouri Health Sciences Center, 2000.
Malone, Louise Wimberley. Telephone interview. 31 August 2001.
Missouri, State of. Official Manual: For Years Nineteen Thirty-nine and Nineteen Forty.
Missouri State Sanatorium. Admission card for Modean Wimberly. Mount Vernon, Missouri. 14 December 1941.
Scharer, Lawrence and John McAdam. Tuberculosis and Aids. New York: Springer Publishing
Sutcliffe, Majorie M. and Judy Sutcliffe. Grandma Cherry’s Spoon: A Story of Tuberculosis.
Teller, Michael E. The Tuberculosis Movement: A Public Health Campaign in the Progressive Era.
Wiesel, Elie. Night. New York: Bantam Books, 1982.
Wimberley, Earl. Personal photograph. 1936.
Wimberley, Modean Hodge. Letter to Iva Hodge Burris. 18 January 1942.
- - -. Letter to Mrs. Andrew Johnson Hodge. 11 July 1942.
- - -. Letter to Iva Hodge Burris. 14 October 1942.
- - -. Letter to Iva Hodge Burris. October 1942.
- - -. Personal photograph. Date unknown.