Tag: Yellow Fever

On a Canal

Ferdinand de Lesseps is a name you don’t recognize most likely, but you definitely know his work and his impact on the world. de Lesseps was a French diplomat and civil servant who led the French organization that built the Suez Canal in the 1800s. The canal was a modern phenomenon at the time since the desire for a connection by sea from the Mediterranean to the Red Sea is as old as history. Over the millennia, many civilizations tried but failed to cut a channel between Africa and Asia, and it was mostly the organizational work of de Lesseps that accomplished what no one else had been able to do. As a result, the man became a major hero to the French Republic and an international celebrity.

Thus, it made perfect sense for him to be the one to lead the next effort to build an important canal, this time across Central America. Such a canal would connect the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. If built, the channel would save over 8,000 miles of sea travel by saving ship traffic from having to go all the way around the tip of South America to get to the other side. The potential savings of time and money were astronomical. All that de Lesseps had to do was to carve a ditch of about 50 miles across one of the most narrow points in Central America, across the isthmus of Panama.

It was with great fanfare, therefore, that the great canal builder de Lesseps was on hand in Panama to be the one to turn the first shovel of dirt, symbolizing the start of work on the project when construction began. But conditions in building the canal in Panama were remarkably different than those in the Suez. To start with, the construction was met with what seemed like insurmountable difficulties. Their equipment was good and modern, but it was mostly too small to do the task. One excavator said it was like digging a well with a teaspoon. The equipment would have been fine for the sands of the Suez, but, faced with the rock and mud of the Panamanian jungle, the machines bogged down quickly. There were landslides because of the rainy season when water poured down the hillsides of the construction sites. And when it wasn’t raining, it was scorchingly hot.

And then there were the tropical diseases, specifically the twin evils of yellow fever and malaria. Remember that this was in the late 1800s, in the period before vaccines and any types of proper treatment of scourges. Yet, despite these impediments and setbacks, the effort eventually removed more than 75 million cubic yards of dirt and rock. de Lesseps visited the construction sites and encouraged the workers that they were making good progress and that their efforts would be remembered forever in history.

de Lesseps local guide and on-site project manager was a man named Philippe Bunau-Varilla. Bunau-Varilla would become the most important Panamanian involved in building the canal. He was the one who organized the local workers and made all the arrangements for the logistical necessities like food, shelter, and facilities. And he was the mediator between the local/federal authorities in Columbia (who owned the land at the time )and the foreigners who were financing and overseeing the process of building the canal. Importantly, and unlike de Lesseps, Bunau-Varilla was an engineer. He disagreed with de Lesseps’s concept of making the canal a sea-level project rather than using locks. He understood that locks meant more cost but, ultimately, a much more simple process and a faster construction time.

By 1902, the work done by de Lesseps had produced the basic framework and route for the canal. However, because of the sicknesses of the location as well as construction accidents, over 20,000 workers had lost their lives in the effort. Investment money had dried up. Interest had waned in the work. It needed fresh eyes and a new perspective. And, by then, the aged Ferdinand de Lesseps had died. An offer from another investor came in, an offer to purchase all the equipment and the rights to complete the project. After almost no deliberation, the organization accepted the offer and sold out. This new investor then completed the canal in short order, using Bunau-Varilla’s idea for locks.

And who was that new investor?

Of course, it was President Teddy Roosevelt and the United States Treasury Department.

On A Consular Appointment

Tom was tired of art. He’d been an artist most of his professional life. In fact he’d made decent money at it. But he wanted a change. Call it a late-age crisis (if you consider 62 to be late-aged), but Tom knew he had more in him than simply art. So, having been interested in politics from an early age, Tom applied with the United States State Department for a position as a consul, preferably, he said, to Europe. Now, this was 1902, during a time when the US Civil Service was still being standardized and the best practices were still being established. Tom had no real qualifications to be a US consul except he had some friends in some powerful places, so he pulled some strings and made some inquiries and was able to get an appointment as a consul. Granted, it was not in Europe like he had preferred, but it was still a posting at a consulate. Besides, he had heard great things about the beauty of Guayaquil, Ecuador. So, Tom accepted the position and sailed for Ecuador in July.

Now, Guayaquil is a beautiful city on the coast of Ecuador and was, at the time, one of the major ports on South America’s western coast. Being so important to trade, the United States was extremely interested in maintaining a political presence there in the form of its consulate (the US Embassy was in the capital city of Quito, located high in the Andes in the interior). So, while the posting for Tom wasn’t particularly glamorous, it was an important appointment. And, despite not having any real public administration experience, Tom soon found that he really enjoyed the work. After all, the real paperwork and administration were done by those permanent officers in the consulate; most of what Tom did was assist Americans who made their way through the area on business or pleasure and who needed help with visas or passports or what have you. He was also wined and dined by the local dignitaries and the consular officers of other nations. Schmoozing? Tom could do that.

As the summer of 1902 turned into the fall (Ecuador really has no seasons other than rainy and not-rainy), people in the city began coming down with Yellow Fever. Remember that this was in the days before a viable vaccine for the disease, and the work of Dr. William Gorgas in eradicating the breeding of the disease-carrying mosquitos was still a couple of years away. People started dying in droves. It was discussed that the consulate in Guayaquil should be evacuated, and orders were approved in Washington to allow those able to travel to leave the city and go to a place where the Yellow Fever had yet to come or even, possibly, return home. But Tom did an incredibly selfless thing. He decided to stay. “People will need me now more than ever,” he said to an aide. Tom knew that his signature on travel documents would allow American families to leave the stricken area quicker. So, he stayed on and helped many Americans to escape the clutches of the disease. Of course, you can guess what happened. In December, Tom got Yellow Fever. He died on December 7th. His body was brought back to the US, and he was buried in the Bronx, New York.

But we don’t remember Tom for his courageous and selfless work as the US representative in Ecuador that deadly autumn. No, we remember him for his art, actually. You’re quite familiar with his work. When you think of the two American political parties, you might think of the animals associated with them–the elephant for the GOP and the donkey for the Democrats. Tom did that. And, every December, you imagine Santa Claus looking like, well, like Santa Claus. Tom did that, too. And, today, every year, a prize is given in his name to the best political cartoon of the year.

In fact, Thomas Nast was the foremost political cartoonist of his day.