The Miracle Tonic of Seattle's Mill Workers
In an era of snake-oil medicine, a sawmill worker swears by a mysterious 'physician' to cure his industrial fatigue.
The story, cleaned up
A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.
I take great pleasure in stating, for the benefit of those who are afflicted with any chronic disease, that I am now a well man. For the past two years, I have been under the medical treatment of different physicians, from whom I have received no benefit. I have been suffering with general and nervous debility—a difficulty in my stomach, and at times dizziness and severe headache, almost incapacitating me for work. About three weeks ago, I put myself under your care, and I can say with delight that I am cured and feel like myself again, after having partaken of your skillful treatment. To me, now, labor seems a pleasure. I say this much, hoping it will be the means of attracting the suffering to you, who can relieve and cure them. Yours truly, John Lalliard, Employed at Colman's Sawmill.
“To me, now, labor seems a pleasure.”
This 1877 testimonial for a 'miracle doctor' highlights the precarious health of industrial workers in early Seattle, a theme that echoes today in the city's ongoing struggles with workplace safety and the high costs of healthcare for the working class. Even then, the promise of a quick, 'confidential' cure for physical exhaustion was a potent marketing tool in a city built on the physical labor of men like Mr. Lalliard.
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