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Myrtle Bemis, although born in Wisconsin in 1880, grew
up in Griggs County (Cooperstown the county seat), North Dakota. She taught
in rural schools for a while before attending Valley City Normal. After
another interlude teaching she went on to the University of North Dakota,
attaining a master’s degree in History—truly a remarkable achievement
for the time—in 1909. After that she married Charles Albert Porterville,
a farmer, and settled down with him back in Griggs County.
Only she never settled down. A historian through and through, she became
an avid collector and writer. During the 1930s she collected and wrote
for the WPA. I’m glad she did, because eventually her research materials
found their way into the collections of the Institute for Regional Studies,
North Dakota State University.
It’s amazing the things Myrtle Bemis Porterville accumulated. Obviously
she operated with none of the constraints of liability, human subjects
protection, or rights to privacy that bind researchers today. For instance,
she collected some remarkable material on the drinking habits of her neighbors—during
the days of legal prohibition.
I’m talking about Box 8, Folder 2, “Alcohol for medicinal purposes.”
What Porterville did was go around to the pharmacies and somehow gain
access to their prescription records. She copied down every prescription
filled for alcohol, recording the date, the name of the thirsty patient,
the type of alcohol administered, and the malady for which it had been
prescribed. Her transcriptions comprise 388 prescriptions during the years
1905-06.
So, who was doing the drinking? In the first place, as you might expect,
almost all the recipients of alcohol were men. Of course, a man might
obtain for a woman and vice versa, and sometimes prescriptions were recorded
by initials only, but the overwhelming evidence here is that the men were
the tipplers.
I expected Anglo-American surnames to predominate; I figured the doctors
and pharmacists would be likely to prescribe for their friends in town.
The surnames and addresses indicate this happened, but also that at least
half the alcohol was going to Norwegian farmers—presumably good evangelical
Lutherans! This indicates to me that the enterprise of issuing and filling
prescriptions for alcohol was not any clubby affair, but rather definitely
a money-making proposition.
The prescriptions varied somewhat as to the form of alcohol to be administered.
Most prescriptions were either for “alcohol” (grain alcohol,
which could be doctored up in various ways) or for “whiskey.”
Some had more esoteric tastes. There was the occasional specification
for “brandy” (one of these, “brandy for wife”), “gin,”
“port wine” (for “sacramental purposes,” one insisted),
or “sherry wine.”
And just what sort of maladies, you may wonder, required the administration
of alcohol for relief? (Possibly you’re thinking, this might be useful
information for a personal rationale?) Here’s a list of things alcohol
could cure: LaGrippe, influenza, “tight hoof on horse,” swelling
of man or beast (requiring lineament), confinement, colic, cramps, stomach
trouble, dyspepsia, diarrhea, scalp disease, indigestion, cold, rheumatism,
old age (I’m not kidding, old age!), throat trouble, neuralgia, weakness,
“female trouble,” catarrh, asthma, headache, kidney trouble,
backache, measles, “summer complaint,” appendicitis, consumption,
nervousness, and hay fever.
Doesn’t this just set your imagination dancing? What sort of dialogues
took place in the doctor’s office, and after that in the drugstore?
“More lineament, Mr. Erickson? Why, if I had a horse that went lame
as often as yours does, I believe I’d sell him.”
Perhaps I’m being overly suspicious.
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