Typhoid Mary | Destroying Angel | 2
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You're a nurse tending to a sick patient on the first floor. A cool draft from the hallway drifts into the room, but the young woman you're caring for is burning up. You dab the sweat from her brow, look down at her with sympathy.

When she first came to the hospital to deliver a baby, she was healthy and full of hope, and her labor was uneventful. But the following day, she came down with a high fever. The doctors suspect she's contracted typhoid. Fortunately, the baby is okay, but you worry whether the mother will make it. Another nurse enters the room and motions to talk to you. You prop a pillow behind the young woman's head and then step into the hallway to join the other nurse.

Did you hear? Dr. Morgan has now come down with the fever. They have him in the sick ward too. But how can that be? I was just with him in the delivery room yesterday afternoon. I know. He tried to do his rounds this morning, but collapsed. That makes more than a dozen now. But I don't understand. We follow all the proper procedures. How could typhoid spread? I don't know, but it's here. And it's getting worse.

What worries me are the babies. How can we keep them safe? And this poor woman. You narrow your eyes with concern and peer over your shoulder to the room behind you. How is she? Weaker. Worse than yesterday, but she's fighting. When she wakes up, she asks for her child. I'm not sure what more we can do. We're supposed to be a place of safety. But look what we've become. They say we may have to close our doors. The city health department is coming for a visit tomorrow.

Maybe it's for the best. This is getting out of control. They're sending an investigator. Someone who's tracked down typhoid outbreaks before. Let's hope they can help us. Look, I need to get back to my patient. Me too. Take care of yourself. You too. You know your friend is right. If you don't stop the spread of typhoid soon, you may have to stop taking in more patients. But it's not just the closing of the hospital that worries you. It's the very survival of those in your care.

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In February 1915, a deadly typhoid outbreak spread through Maternity Hospital in Manhattan. Doctors and nurses rushed to protect the mothers and newborn babies as cases grew, and when officials learned of the outbreak, they set out to investigate how the deadly disease could have infected the facility. Their visit would lead to a startling discovery.

At the beginning of the 20th century, detecting the sources of disease had become a priority for New York health officials. Only eight years earlier, the New York Health Department had detained an Irish cook named Mary Mallon after discovering that she had been spreading typhoid bacteria. Health officials determined that Mallon was a so-called healthy carrier and that despite exhibiting no symptoms herself, she was a source of the illness.

By 1909, Mary Mallon had been held for two years in isolation on a remote island in the East River. Throughout her incarceration, she insisted that she posed no danger to the public and argued that city officials had overstepped their authority in keeping her against her will. When word of her ongoing detention reached the press, it sparked a media firestorm, and much to her dismay, newspapers began referring to her by a now infamous moniker, Typhoid Mary.

But she would eventually manage to secure her own release after promising to never again return to work as a cook in New York's kitchens. She knew that if she did, and she was caught, she risked spending the rest of her life in captivity. This is Episode 2 in our series on Typhoid Mary, Destroying Angel.

By May 1909, Mary Mallon had spent two years on North Brother Island in the East River in New York. There, the city's health officials kept her separate from other patients and monitored her closely. She was subjected to regular health examinations and required to provide fecal and urine samples, which they tested in the lab on the island. She was the only typhoid patient there and spent most of her time in isolation, living in a one-room cottage by herself.

North Brother Island was first used to house patients with contagious illnesses in 1885 and had since grown to 16 buildings, including Riverside Hospital, where patients suffering from tuberculosis and pneumonia received treatment. Hoping to discover some way to rid Malin of the typhoid bacteria she carried, doctors forced her to submit to experimental treatments.

She was given urotropin, an antibacterial drug primarily used to treat urinary tract infections, as well as brewer's yeast for her intestinal flora and laxatives in an effort to purge her digestive tract. Mallon found these treatments harsh and repeatedly sought to end them, saying, If I should have continued, it would certainly have killed me, for it was very severe. Doctors also continued to urge her to consider surgery to remove her gallbladder, suspecting that typhoid bacteria could be concentrated there.

But knowing that surgery could be risky and lead to other infections, she refused, insisting to doctors, no knife will be put on me.

But ever since her arrival on the island, Malin had felt desperately alone and complained that the stress and anxiety of her captivity caused her to have unpleasant physical symptoms, saying, When I first came here, I was so nervous and almost prostrated with grief and trouble. My eyes began to twitch, and the left eyelid became paralyzed and would not move. It remained in that condition for six months. But despite these symptoms, Malin appeared otherwise to be in perfect health.

And because she showed no severe signs of illness, she continued to distrust the medical staff who insisted she was a danger to others.

Mallon doubted their claims that her medical tests consistently showed the presence of typhoid bacteria, so she arranged to send her own medical samples to a private laboratory in Manhattan. The doctors from this private lab told her that the samples she sent were negative for typhoid. Mary felt vindicated by this, but she had very little contact with the public off the island and no way of sharing the findings with anyone else.

Until, in June 1909, a reporter from the New York American newspaper visited the island and interviewed Mallon. Not long after, the newspaper printed a story which revealed Mary Mallon's full name for the first time publicly, referring to her as a prisoner for life.

This article was printed on a Sunday when readership was highest and included a vivid description of Mallon, but also a shocking illustration of a cook tossing human skulls into a skillet with a parade of human corpses marching across the top banner of the page. But despite this salacious illustration, the article conveyed sympathy for Mallon's plight and provided her an opportunity to plead her case. The article quoted her as saying, "'I have committed no crime, and I am treated like an outcast.'"

Other newspaper accounts soon followed, offering a mix of sensational and sometimes exaggerated details about Mallon and her situation. The socialist press called hers a fight for freedom, and soon hundreds of thousands of readers across the city were captivated by her ordeal, and Mallon began to feel her case gaining momentum.

Imagine it's early July 1909 in New York. You're the attorney for one of the most high-profile and controversial figures in the state, Mary Mallon, the poor woman who was recently dubbed Typhoid Mary by the press. Today is an important one. You have a court hearing, and you're hoping to finally secure your client's freedom. But knowing the fear surrounding her case, it won't be easy. A judge from the New York Supreme Court peers down at you sternly from the bench. You adjust your necktie and begin.

Your Honor, my client should not be kept in confinement even one day longer. And on what grounds do you challenge her confinement? First of all, she was seized from her place of employment and arrested without a proper warrant. From that moment on, she has not been afforded due process. Her continued seclusion is also a violation of her civil rights. How so? After being kidnapped, she was taken against her will to be confined in the hospital and then moved to be held in isolation on an island in the East River.

She has not committed any crime. She has lost her job, her social connections, her home. Her case is a moral outrage. But she was taken into custody to protect the public. As a matter of safety. Yes, but that is flawed reasoning. There is no evidence that keeping her in isolation benefits the public. She is healthy and is not a threat to anyone. Wait a moment. Are you questioning the science as well as the application of the law? I am indeed, most certainly.

Miss Mallon has been healthy since the day of her incarceration and continues to be healthy to this day. The results of her laboratory tests are contradictory at best. It's the court's understanding from health officials that their laboratory tests confirm she carries the typhoid bacteria. But they are refusing to consider that the results from the Ferguson Laboratory on 42nd Street, the private lab that my client contracted, did not find any typhoid bacteria in her stool samples.

But isn't it true that there were only ten samples tested at that laboratory? From... let me see... August 1st, 1908 until April 30th, 1909. Yes, that is correct. Meanwhile, the city has tested Ms. Mallon weekly since she was taken into custody. More than 160 times. Finding a positive result for typhoid more than 70% of the time. That may be so, Your Honor, but even if we just focus on the results from the city officials...

They are still inconclusive, showing both positive and negative results, as you just admitted. And still, multiple times a week, my client is required to submit to invasive testing procedures. I think we've heard enough. Your Honor, please have mercy. Keeping her against her will even one more day would be an injustice.

The judge regards you with an impassive expression. You're not sure you've presented a strong enough argument to counter the multiple expert witnesses and doctors that the city has put forward. But you do hope for your client's sake that the court can see the gross injustice of her confinement and finally set her free.

In June 1909, after two years in isolation, Mary Mallon brought a habeas corpus suit challenging the right of local authorities to indefinitely detain her. The city's health department was forced to bring her before the New York State Supreme Court and defend their actions. Newspapers covered the event with excitement and published detailed accounts of the proceedings.

One reporter described the now 40-year-old Mallon entering the court looking full of vigor, writing, She has a clear, healthy complexion, regular features, bright eyes, and white teeth. Mallon's attorney, George Francis O'Neill, was a 34-year-old former customs inspector who had been admitted to the New York State Bar in 1907, just two months after Mallon was taken into city custody.

O'Neill argued that Mallon should be released for two reasons. First, she had not been afforded due process in her arrest or during her detention. And second, the health department had not proven that she was a menace to society due to her typhoid carrier status.

As part of the case, Malin submitted a written statement in which she described confusing and contradictory medical treatment, which led her to distrust the doctors. She also described the humiliation of becoming a figure of ridicule, declaring, I've been in fact a peep show for everybody. Even the interns have come to see me and ask about the facts already known to the whole wide world. The tuberculosis patients would say, there she is, the kidnapped woman.

But the health department defended its actions, calling Mallon an incubator of typhoid germs and reaffirming their belief that she was a danger to the public. They confirmed that since coming into city custody, doctors had regularly tested Mallon, and while the lab results often did show the presence of typhoid bacteria, at times the results came back negative. During one period, her test was negative for 12 consecutive weeks.

But health officials pointed to the fact that over the course of the two years she was held, she tested positive 70% of the time. They dismissed the negative findings from the private lab that Mallon had contracted, suspecting that those samples may have been mishandled or contaminated during transport, leading to inaccurate findings. At the conclusion of the case, in July 1909, the court sided with the City of New York and ruled that Mallon must remain in the custody of the health department.

Outraged, Mallon told reporters that there were two kinds of justice in America, and that all the water in the ocean wouldn't clear me from this charge in the eyes of the health department. They want to make a showing. They want to get credit for protecting the rich, and I am the victim. So against her will, Mallon was returned to isolation on North Brother Island. But in the coming months, her case continued to draw public sympathy, and it would soon become clear that she was not the only healthy carrier in New York City.

Just one month after Mallon was sent back to isolation, in August 1909, a milkman in Camden, New York, was found to be the source of a typhoid outbreak that spread throughout the Bronx and Manhattan. Health officials had inspected the dairy production center where he worked and found milk contaminated with the typhoid bacteria. And soon, other carriers in New York and New Jersey were also found. But unlike Mallon, in these cases, the carriers were closely monitored and prohibited from working in food preparation.

None of them were placed in isolation. The news that these other carriers were allowed to remain free sparked public outcry and prompted some to criticize Mallon's confinement as a double standard. One magazine condemned what it saw as a distinct class prejudice, saying, "...there is one common characteristic of carriers. They are always plain people in humble circumstances. Those with more money and influence who could fight back are never pronounced dangerous."

Other Mallin supporters pointed to a study published the year before, in 1908, that found that 2-5% of all people who had previously contracted typhoid went on to become chronic, albeit healthy, carriers of the bacteria. So New York health officials knew that the city was home to hundreds of people who could unknowingly transmit the illness, a daunting prospect to properly monitor and contain.

So with the discovery of these other healthy carriers, some began to believe the injustice of Malin's confinement was clear. Even prominent figures like Dr. Charles Chapin, a pioneer in bacteriology, criticized the handling of Malin's case. Dr. Chapin believed it was unfair to hold Malin against her will and emphasized that while she should not be allowed to work in kitchens or food preparation, she could safely earn her living another way. After all, there were thousands of other typhoid carriers still at liberty in the country.

But it wasn't until early 1910 that Mallon's case grew more hopeful. That year, the health department got a new commissioner, Ernst Lederle, who was more sympathetic to Mallon's plight. Lederle believed that Mallon could be allowed to go free while still keeping the public safe, so he decided to release her, citing the contradiction in the city's policy toward other carriers like her. But he insisted on two conditions—

that Mallon check in with health department officials to keep them updated on her whereabouts and that she never work again in a kitchen or handling food. Mallon agreed and signed an affidavit to that effect. Finally, in February 1910, after nearly three years, Mallon left isolation on North Brother Island and returned to society.

Upon her release, Letterly helped her find work and a laundry, telling reporters, "She was incarcerated for the public's good and now it is up to the public to take care of her." Many health officials were watching her case closely. They worried that allowing Mallon and others like her to interact freely with the public could pose a risk. And with typhoid still spreading throughout the city, nothing less than life and death was at stake.

But whether they agreed with the decision or not, Mary Mallon was now free. And now the health of the residents of New York City depended on her keeping her word to never work in a kitchen again. Commercial payments at Fifth Third Bank are experienced and reliable, but they're also constantly innovating. It might seem contradictory, but Fifth Third does just that. They handle over $17 trillion in payments smoothly and effectively every year. And we're

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slash William, where new customers can receive 20% off their first order. Plus, enjoy free shipping in the US on orders over $75 and free returns. Exclusions apply. Visit the website for full terms and conditions. Before being released from her confinement and isolation in February of 1910, Mary Mallon swore to give up her occupation as a cook and take measures to protect any and all persons with whom I may come in contact from any infection.

New York Health Commissioner Ernst Lederle told newspapers that he had taken a personal interest in her case and reassured the public that the city was doing its best to help her get back on her feet. Mallon began work in a laundry and initially kept her promise to check in with health department officials, as required by her agreement for release. But in the coming months, Mallon struggled to make ends meet as a laundress. Eventually, she began to bounce from job to job.

After a year and a half, things got so bad that in December 1911, Mallon brought a lawsuit against the city and the Board of Health for what she called false imprisonment, claiming that because she had been unable to follow her trade of cooking since her release, she had lost wages and her chance of making a living had been greatly reduced.

But Mallon's suit against the city was unsuccessful, and she was left to fend for herself again. In September 1912, at a meeting of the International Hygiene Congress, New York City health officials discussed Mallon's case and stated that they were still monitoring her activities. But at some point in the following two years, Mallon stopped showing up for her check-in appointments, and the authorities lost track of her.

By then, Mallon was just one of hundreds of known typhoid carriers that the New York City Health Department was trying to monitor. The vast majority of them slipped through the cracks as officials struggled to respond to the spread of the disease. Typhoid was still a fearsome killer, infecting thousands in the city each year. But officials did have one cause for hope. Although a vaccine for typhoid had been developed as far back as the 1890s, it was not proven to be safe and was not widely available.

But in 1911, the U.S. Army made a breakthrough. They had improved the vaccine enough to successfully immunize 20,000 soldiers with no negative side effects. This success prompted the military to make the vaccine compulsory for all incoming recruits.

It was just a matter of time, health officials felt, until the vaccine could be available to the wider public. But in the meantime, people would still have to live with the fear of the disease. And worryingly, by November 1914, the city admitted to the New York Times that it no longer knew where Mary Mallon was or where she might be working.

Then, in 1915, one year after the city admitted to losing track of Mallon, typhoid broke out at a maternity hospital in Manhattan, where mothers were taken to give birth and newborn babies were cared for during their first weeks of life. Once again, Sarah Josephine Baker, the New York City inspector who had apprehended Mary Mallon six years earlier, was called in to investigate.

Imagine it's March 1915 at a maternity hospital on Amsterdam Avenue in Manhattan. You're an inspector with New York's Health Department and one of the only female doctors in the city. You've built a reputation for aggressively fighting disease among the city's poor children and young mothers. And that's why today you've been sent down to this hospital to investigate an outbreak of typhoid among the patients and staff.

You walk hurriedly down the hallway with a nurse who's showing you around. So this is the ward where you've taken most of the patients with typhoid? Yes, ma'am. This all happened so quickly that not all of the cases have been confirmed with lab results, but we suspect that soon they will be.

All of these patients are exhibiting symptoms consistent with the disease. How many patients does that make in total? Twenty-three. But it looks like it will pass two dozen in the coming days. And you haven't had an outbreak like this before? No. Not in all the years I've been working here. This is very unusual. Indeed. I haven't seen anything like it. So far, most of those stricken with the illness have been doctors, nurses, and hospital staff.

Caring for them, in addition to our regular patients, the women about to give birth and newborn babies, is taking a toll on the staff. We've been working around the clock here. Many of us are worn out. You turn to face the young nurse. Her expression is one of exhaustion and anxiety. Yes, I understand how stressful this must be. But I am not one to be indirect. You must understand that you are all very much at risk until we find the source of this disease.

The sooner we find it, the better for all of you, and for the public. Of course. Now, where does this other hallway lead? That goes to the staff room. Right. Can you take me there? I want to check your hygiene protocol and ensure there are no problems. You let the nurse take the lead and follow her down another hallway, toward the staff room. But as you turn the corner, you see an open doorway to a kitchen, where several women are cutting vegetables on the counter. Suddenly, one of the faces catches your eye.

A tall, blonde woman in her forties looks up. You see a flicker of recognition, and she suddenly drops the knife in her hand and dashes out a back entrance to the kitchen. Hey, stop! Wait a moment! You race into the kitchen as the young nurse follows with a confused look on her face. Ma'am, are you alright? What is it? Is this the kitchen for the entire hospital? Yes, this is where the food for the patients and staff is prepared. Who is your lead cook? Um, we hired her last October, so...

The nurse looks unfazed. You realize she has no idea who you're talking about. Mary Mallon, you know, from the newspaper. Typhoid Mary.

Now the nurse looks at you with shock, and you can hardly believe it yourself. But you're certain you recognize her face, and you know she recognized you before she fled the kitchen. You have to track her down again, and this time you cannot afford any mistakes.

When Sarah Josephine Baker heard of the typhoid outbreak at the Sloan Maternity Hospital, she raced there to question staff and find the source of the disease. When she entered the kitchen, she was stunned to recognize a familiar face. She later recalled, I went up there one day and walked into the kitchen. Sure enough, there was Mary earning her living in the hospital kitchen and spreading typhoid germs among mothers and babies and doctors and nurses like a destroying angel.

But Mallon fled before Baker was able to apprehend her. She managed to evade authorities until about a week later when a local patrolman in Queens noticed a suspicious-looking woman and notified the authorities.

City police rushed to the neighborhood and cornered the woman in an apartment building. The New York Sun newspaper described how a squad of sanitary police surrounded the building while more police and a doctor from the health department waited down a side street. A police sergeant rang the doorbell, but no response came, so they put a ladder against a window on the second floor and the sergeant climbed up. When he poked his head into a semi-dark room, a dog snarled from the shadows and then another dog appeared.

The sergeant then brought up pieces of meat to distract the dogs, but then he heard the muffled sound of a slamming door in the room from inside. He now knew the apartment was occupied and the chase was on. The police ran from room to room in pursuit, and at last they pushed open a door to find Mary Mallon crouching in the bathroom. She admitted who she was, and they took her into custody.

After her recapture, officials and the public were quick to condemn Mallon. The New York Sun concluded that she had deliberately disregarded the warning of health authorities and had gone forth on her mission of death and misery. This time, they argued she deserved real isolation and no mercy.

And health officials pointed out that Mallon was in violation of her explicit agreement not to return to cooking. They condemned the fact that she had returned to work in a hospital kitchen where she was responsible for spreading typhoid to vulnerable newborn babies and their mothers. Mallon, they argued, knew the risk she was taking. And in this case, two victims had died. She was clearly a menace to society and a threat to the public.

Other newspapers joined in, condemning her for putting others in danger and wantonly causing illness. The New York Tribune declared that she had deliberately thrown away the sympathy and freedom she'd been given five years before, leaving it impossible to feel much commiseration for her. Mallon's fate was sealed. Officials returned her to isolation on North Brother Island, but this time Mallon did not fight back, simply retreating to her one-room cottage.

From the shoreline, she could see the city lights across the river and the barges steaming down the coast. But she held little hope of returning to the life she had known before. Imagine falling in love with someone who understands you completely, who's there at 3 a.m. when you can't sleep, who never judges, never tires, never leaves. That's what happened to Travis when he met Lily Rose. She was everything he'd ever wanted. There was just one catch. She wasn't human. She was a woman.

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Imagine it's December 1929 on North Brother Island in New York. You're a laboratory technician and a recent college graduate. You're in your small lab where you work to help battle infectious diseases. When you first started working here, the isolation from the city and proximity to contagious patients left you feeling uneasy. But over time, you've developed a close bond with the other staff and even some of the patients.

You raise your head from your work, just as a tall woman wearing round wire spectacles enters your lab. You smile. She's one of your helpers here. While you've gotten used to seeing her in a white lab coat, though, today she's wearing a stylish black dress and carrying a handbag. Her gray hair is pulled back in a bun, and her blue eyes shine brightly behind her glasses.

Mary, it's good to see you. I wasn't expecting you today. I'm sorry to disturb you. I just thought I'd stop by. No, it's no bother. But isn't today your day off? Did you get off the island? Yes, I had a shopping day. Just returned. She lifts a small shopping bag by her side and gives you a smile. You smile back. Well, I hope you had a nice time. When you're back tomorrow, we can finish processing these lab tests. The doctors have asked to have them by the end of the week.

They're working on a new treatment for some of the patients. Yes, of course. She answers politely, but the smile vanishes from her face. Anytime you mention the other doctors at the hospital, your friend gets irritated. You know, Mary, the doctors here work very hard. They're only trying to help people. I'm sure that's how some people see it, but not me. Surely after all this time, you can see that their only interest is in treating those in need who come here seeking their help.

You've come to know Mary as a reliable worker and a friend. But you also know there are subjects she will not budge on, and this is one of them. You're relieved to see the tension fall from her face.

She reaches into her bag and brings out a shiny red apple. She holds it towards you. "I picked this up for you at the market. They're so delicious this time of year."

You manage to smile and take the apple from her hand. She turns and leaves, closing the door behind her. You're left holding the apple. It's taken many months to get her to open up to you, which makes kind gestures like this all the more touching. But you hesitate for a moment, and when you're sure she's left, you take the apple over to the wastebasket and drop it in. She may be your friend, but you are also a medical graduate, and you know why she's been isolated here. You don't dare take any chances.

Emma Rose Sherman was a recent graduate of Hunter College when she came to work at North Brother Island in 1929. Sherman ran a small lab and Mary Mallon, now 60 years old, became her assistant, helping in general cleaning, bottle washing, and preparing urine analysis for other patients. Over time, Sherman befriended Mallon, later recalling she was pleasant to be with as long as you did not talk about typhoid or her past. Even mentioning the doctors could elicit a sour mood,

But otherwise, Sherman said, Mallon was a dedicated worker, and while she was very private, Mallon did maintain social relationships with some of the other nurses.

In Mallon's later years, she lived in her one-story cottage, just 20 by 20 feet, with an elm tree in front. Over time, authorities permitted her to leave the island on day trips for shopping. Sherman described Mallon as wearing all black and looking quite stunning during these trips and returning in good spirits. Sometimes she would bring back an apple as a gift for Sherman, which Sherman admitted to later throwing away, worried about contracting typhoid.

Six years after Sherman came to work at the island in 1935, a reporter from the New York Daily Mirror visited, writing about Mallon under the headline, I wonder what's become of Typhoid Mary. The article described Mallon's quiet life on the island and featured an illustration of Mallon wearing glasses, her now gray hair framing a calm face.

But Mallon never ceased to harbor resentment for her confinement. To the end, she remained skeptical of the medical staff and never accepted that she caused illness. Mallon also continued to harbor anger towards those she blamed for her isolation, writing threatening letters to health department officials like Herman Biggs and Sarah Josephine Baker, who wrote that, Mallon threatened to kill me if she could get out.

But despite the hostility toward her, over time Baker had come to regard Mallon with a mix of respect and compassion, saying, I could not blame her for feeling that way. From my brief acquaintance with Mary, I learned to like her and to respect her point of view. After all, she has been of great service to humanity. There have been many typhoid carriers recognized since her time, but she was the first charted case, and for that distinction, she paid in a lifelong imprisonment.

In 1932, when she was 63 years old, Mallon suffered a stroke and was confined to a hospital bed. One of the nurses she had befriended returned to the island to aid her at her bedside. Six years later, on November 11, 1938, Mary Mallon died at the age of 69. She had spent 26 years in forced isolation.

Newspapers covered her funeral at St. Luke's Church in the Bronx, and in her passing, Mallon left most of her possessions to the nurse who had cared for her in her final days, writing in her will that it was in appreciation of the many courtesies and kindness which she had extended to me during confinement. Mallon was buried at St. Raymond's Cemetery with a simple gravestone that read, Jesus Mercy. At the time of her death, New York City officials had identified more than 400 typhoid carriers just like her.

In the years after Mary Mallon's death, the typhoid vaccine began to be administered more widely, and by 1948, doctors had begun treating typhoid with antibiotics, greatly reducing the death toll of the disease.

In the following decades, the case of Typhoid Mary would be remembered by those in the medical field as a cautionary tale about the dangers of undetected sources of illness and a potent reminder of the difficulty of protecting public health. Authorities estimated that during the course of her life, Mallon was responsible for the illness of some 25 people and approximately three to five deaths.

Because of this, Malin would come to be remembered in the public imagination as a frightening menace, often depicted as a monster intent on causing suffering. But still others had come to view her as a tragic victim of her times, forced to endure an unnecessary confinement for the sake of political expediency. Whatever the case, she remains today a flashpoint for the ongoing debate over health and freedom. From Wondery, this is Episode 2 of our series on Typhoid Mary from American History Tellers.

On the next episode, I speak with Dr. Seema Yasmin, Clinical Assistant Professor of Medicine at Stanford University and host of the Our Big Shot podcast. We'll discuss Mary Mallon's unique circumstances and the way in which her case informs the treatment of infectious diseases today.

If you'd like to learn more about the case of Mary Mellon, we recommend Typhoid Mary, Captive to the Public's Health by Judith Walzer Levin.

American History Tellers is hosted, edited, and produced by me, Lindsey Granford Airship. Audio editing by Christian Paraga. Sound design by Molly Bach.

Supervising Sound Designer, Matthew Filler. Music by Thrum. Voice Acting by Joe Hernandez-Kolski and Zara Hannaford. This episode is written by Dorian Marina. Edited and produced by Alida Rozanski. Managing Producer, Desi Blaylock. Senior Managing Producer, Callum Clues. Senior Producer, Andy Herman. And Executive Producers are Jenny Lauer-Beckman, Marsha Louis, and Erin O'Flaherty for Wondery.

We're counting down the days. July 4th weekend, Essence Festival of Culture, sponsored by Coca-Cola, returns to the city that raised the rhythm, New Orleans.

Four days, one community, endless joy. A Jill Scott John featuring Miss Patti LaBelle and Jasmine Sullivan. Maxwell, Babyface to Erykah Badu, the Isley Brothers to Boyz II Men, DeVito to Boozoo Banton, Lurilla to Master P. We pay tribute to the legends, celebrate the icons, toast the disruptors, and honor all that makes us

This is a love letter to our legacy, a gathering of generations, a space made for us by us. Because we're not just attending a festival, we're living the culture. We're made like this. Tickets on sale at essencefestival.com.