Book manuscript- (c) 2009 by William Sims Bainbridge

“It was a scene never to be forgotten. The sweet, girlish face, with its sunny hair, and no mark of suffering left upon it, the beautiful flowers, and the tribute of heartfelt words from Rev. Mr. Elsing, the singing by her large Sunday-school class of more than a hundred little boys and girls, and, then, the long procession of mourning friends, as the bells tolled and the organ was played, filing past the casket for a last look at the dear missionary and teacher. Women whom Miss Butler had comforted in their sorrow, now mourned for her. Mothers pinched by poverty, with baby in arms, wept over the friend who would never come to them in their distress again. The crowds of children, her children, brought, each of them, a little token of love, a spray of golden rod, or grass and leaves, and, sobbing, laid it on the coffin. Tiny ones were held up, for a last look, by the older sister or brother, because they loved the ‘dear teacher.’ And thus we bade her good-by. The beautiful casket, with its precious body, was borne away from the crowded streets, full of ragged and hungry women and children, away from the misery, and sin, and greed of our lower New York, but the influence of Miss Carrie A. Butler’s unselfish, devoted, beautiful life, has not gone. It lives in the hearts of very many, who will meet her in the blessed, sinless land.”⁵⁶⁶

As death decimated the ranks of the Woman's Branch, Lucy sought new recruits. In June 1893, she attended the Conference for Young Women held at Northfield, Vermont, where Moody had established his Bible School. “Many a college girl looks out upon the untried work of the world wondering where and how she is to use the education she has gained,” Lucy noted, and she invited them to visit the Mission Society and share in its work for two weeks. Gertrude Burrage from Cornell accepted and went on home visits with one of Lucy’s missionaries.

“Oh, the poverty and destitution of lower New York this fall!” Miss Burrage exclaimed as the financial depression ravaged New York’s poor. “How many, many times did I hear wives and mothers of little children say, ‘My husband has been able to get no work during the summer,’ or ‘My husband died several years ago and this summer I have been able to earn only two or three dollars a week.’ The task of the Woman’s Branch seemed far greater than its capacity. “One of the missionaries went out one evening to carry flowers and reading matter to a poor family in which she was interested. Although the gifts were received thankfully yet she soon found that they were only a hollow mockery, for the family was starving.”

The saddest family Miss Burrage saw was on Cherry Street. “My companion and I stumbled through the dark hallway, up the back staircase, and found ourselves in a good-sized room which seemed all the larger on account of the scarcity of furniture. Let those people who live in luxury homes listen while I tell what that room contained: A bed on which lay a woman, her baby two days old, and her three-year-old boy; her husband was bending over the stove heating some water, a chair was visible in one dark corner, a stool in another; a table, a trunk and a few dishes completed the furniture of the room and the home. The husband was very kind and polite that night, but I found out afterward that it was his terrible appetite for strong drink that had brought his family to that condition. It is only God who can forgive a man for dragging down into hopeless misery not only himself but his wife and innocent children.”

Far cheerier were Lucy’s Baby Fold and the Jewell Day Nursery where “happy children romped and played in the back yard, forgetting for awhile the terrible homes to which they must return at night.” The missionary was especially interested in a poor little child named Katie, to whom she had given a small doll with plain dress that had become the girl’s prized possession. But illness kept Katie out of Jewell that day, so Miss Burrage and the missionary sought her at home. “We found her, poor little thing, locked out on the street, sick with the whooping cough. The neighbors told us that when the terrible paroxysms of coughing came on, all the strength left the little body and she could scarcely stand.”⁵⁶⁷

Some time later, Miss Burrage learned that Katie had died. The girl’s mother preserved the missionary’s doll under a glass globe, encircled by a wreath of artificial flowers, and the missionary sought religious compensation for her own grief: “Katie’s mission was ended; but that which could only have been begun through her is going on, and some day mother, teacher, and child will meet again where there shall be no more tears.”⁵⁶⁸

Miss Burrage gained great respect for Lucy’s missionaries. “They are not looking forward to the next world for their reward, for they have a part of it every day of their lives. They are rewarded by the love of the children over whose faces a happy smile breaks when they meet the ladies on the street. They are rewarded by the reclaimed drunkards’ homes, by the wives and mothers who have been led to Christ in the church or the Mothers’ Meeting, by the stalwart young men who have left the street and the saloon to have a part in the Lord’s work. I never met happier women, or those whom it was a greater joy to know than those I met in the Christian Workers’ Home.”⁵⁶⁹

Shortly before Thanksgiving, 1893, a reporter for the Mail and Express accompanied Lucy’s workers for a day, beginning in the room of one of Lucy's youngest nurses, Miss J. M. Glasgow, at the Christian Workers Home: “A pretty white and gold room, with windows looking out over St. Mark’s churchyard. A dainty white bed occupies one corner and a dressing case another. In still another corner stands a small bookcase and a glance at the back of the books in it shows that the owner of or more than the average culture.” The reporter was impressed by Miss Glasgow’s graduation certificate from Mount Sinai Hospital and by her “sweet, refined face and gentle, noiseless movements.”⁵⁷⁰

Before seven-thirty in the morning, Miss Glasgow descended the stairs of the five-story mansion, and entered the study, where prayers were held. After that, the forty-two “attractive” ladies living in this urban religious community went into the dining room, sat at three long tables, and took breakfast. Shortly, the nurses and missionaries dispersed, each to a designated section of lower New York, to undertake the day’s work. As each one left the building, she stopped in the hall leading to the front door, checking the papers and letters strewn on a large black walnut table, and marking her departure on a large rack of cards. One card read “Miss J. M. Glasgow,” with the words “in” and “out” either side of the name, and Miss Glasgow moved a button from “in” to “out.”

The reporter followed Miss Glasgow on visits to the Virginia Day Nursery on Fifth Street, to a dilapidated home on the lower East Side, to the Chinese quarter, and to the Baby Fold, described as “the especial pride of its founder, Mrs. Lucy S. Bainbridge.” When the Mail and Express published the story, it included a pair of line drawings made from photographs Lucy provided, one a portrait of her, the other of the Baby Fold. After this visit to the babies, Miss Glasgow and the reporter returned home for a 12:30 lunch, at which the ladies exchanged experiences.

“Mrs. Bainbridge is at the table, and listens to all their tales of woe, gives them advice, comforts and encourages them and directs their plans. With all her gentle sweetness the superintendent is a woman of action. She takes complete possession of those who meet her and explains the work in a manner that shows what a thoroughly practical knowledge she has of it.” After lunch Lucy put the reporter into the hands of her Italian missionary, Lydia Tealdo, as she visited her district around Mulberry Street, speaking to the Italian immigrants in their own language and calling on several who were sick.

At six o’clock, the missionaries returned to their home for dinner, After that, they would attend evening classes at the various churches maintained by the Mission Society, or get together to discuss their current work and future projects. The reporter observed, “All of this Mrs. Bainbridge oversees, and it keeps her very busy indeed. She has shown great judgement in the workers she selects for different branches of work, knowing just for what each one is best fitted.”

While her missionaries and nurses were in the field, Lucy would usually be in her office, seeking donations, talking with people who came in for help, reading and writing letters, and managing the business of the Woman’s Branch. Each winter she taught classes at the training school, combining commentaries on current events with practical advice on missionary work and Christianity. For a lecture on the “necessary equipment for service,” she stressed these themes: Know you are a Christian and be able to tell why. You must be on a higher level to lift others, but you must be able to love beneath the dust and rags.⁵⁷¹

Lucy’s closest friend at the Mission Society was Ida Brandt, a German-born nurse whom she called Brandtie. On rare occasions, Brandtie visited her home country, and on a voyage back by steamer she encountered two German ladies in peculiar black uniforms, one very young and apparently innocent, the other older and domineering.⁵⁷²

When the older woman was off playing cards and drinking, Brandtie spoke with the girl, Christina, and learned that she was the pathetic victim of disappointed love. She and Fritz, the son of a wealthy family, had planned marriage, but his mother forbad this because she wanted her son to marry someone from a better family with a fat dowry. Christina said it would be unbearable to stay near Fritz, and see him with his new wife, so she left the tiny cottage she shared with her grandfather, in the company of a religious Sister she had just met who offered to take her to a missionary school in New York.⁵⁷³ Brandtie asked about this school, and she received only vague answers. Her suspicions aroused, Brandtie wrote out full instructions, in both German and English, how the girl could find her if she needed a friend. Within a few days after the ship docked, a terrified note begged Brandtie to come to Christina at a certain address. The house was forbidding, its shades drawn and doors locked. Brandtie got no response when she pounded repeatedly. Then the Sister returned with Christina, carrying food, and despite the girl’s tearful pleas Brandtie was forced away. Not easily deterred, Brandtie came again the next day, finding Christina alone and ready to share a horrible discovery: the Sister’s religious order was a fraud.

“There was no training — there was no hospital — she was kept scrubbing and washing, and then she had to go out with the Sister begging for food. When she was not out with the Sister she was locked in. She had been told that she must not write to her grandfather at present — that the letter written by the Sister was quite sufficient.

“At night all sorts of men and boys called and she had to make special soup for them, greasy and thick. Some of the men stayed all night and talked to her — English was hard to understand — but it sounded bad, and they looked at her in a way she did not like — she was afraid and hungry and homesick. The Sister was very cross and said she had not been paid enough money, that she must learn to eat the soup, or earn money in some way, and that she must stop crying.”⁵⁷⁴

Christina begged Brandtie to save her, but the Sister returned, and angrily forced Brandtie out of the house. Shortly later Brandtie reappeared in the company of a plainclothes policeman to take Christina away. “This brought forth a perfect tornado of vile, indecent words and curses, which was quieted only when the officer’s badge was disclosed and the woman warned that such language would lead to her arrest.”⁵⁷⁵ An expressman arrived, to transport Christina’s trunk, but the Sister smashed it with a vicious kick.

“The officer helped the trembling girl out of the house, and as she went down the steps she turned to say ‘Good-bye,” whereat the Sister, in a more violent attack of rage, hurled the broom after her, calling out “Thief! Thief!’ and quickly picking up a stick that lay bye, she placed it across the broom thus making the sign of the cross, and standing beside it, she spat after the departing trio.”⁵⁷⁶ Lucy found suitable clothing for Christina, and Brandtie wrote the grandfather assuring him she was in good hands. Unfortunately, the bogus sister’s letter reached the grandfather first, telling terrible lies about Brandtie, and leaving the whole affair hanging in mid air for several weeks.
Will's Career Dawns
In the summer of 1896, Will began practicing medicine at Chautauqua, and he gave a practical course on health titled “Physiology, Pathology, and Emergencies.” He faced a difficult decision. It was time for him to establish a private practice, yet he longed for the opportunity to study advanced techniques with the great surgeons of Europe. He had been offered a job as personal physician to a multi-millionaire, but the thought of being imprisoned in a mansion was unattractive. He considered opportunities to become a medical missionary in Beirut or Teheran, but they would take him too far from his beloved mother. Then, a telegram came from New York, asking Will’s help with John Sinclair, a wealthy patient connected with Lucy’s Mission Society, who had gone violently insane.⁵⁷⁷

Through the Mission Society, Lucy had contact with many of New York’s super-rich. Perhaps the most impressive was railway millionaire Morris K. Jesup, President of the Mission Society, who had been among its chief benefactors since 1865.⁵⁷⁸ Lucy worked closely with his wife, who was First Directress and head of the Executive Committee of the Woman’s Branch.⁵⁷⁹ Another wealthy patron of the Mission Society was William H. Osborn, whose wife was Second Directress of the Woman’s Branch.⁵⁸⁰ In 1894, the list of thirty-three Honorary Managers included Mrs. C. Vanderbilt, Mrs. E. F. Shepard, Miss Helen Gould, and Mrs. John Sinclair.⁵⁸¹ John Sinclair himself had been on the board of directors of the Mission Society since 1888,⁵⁸² and he was on the committee that oversaw Broome Street Tabernacle.

The telegram asked Will if he were ready to take John Sinclair overseas on a long therapeutic tour, and it demanded an immediate answer. One of Will’s Columbia teachers, neurologist M. Allan Starr was in charge of the case, but was unable to handle it.⁵⁸³ Sinclair had become maniacally obsessed with religion and with Wall Street, and it was essential to get him out of New York.

Will was much troubled. While traveling with Sinclair, he might be able to study at least briefly in the major European medical centers, but he would have to postpone establishing his practice. “My life work seemed to depend upon what decision I made, and I earnestly petitioned for light.”⁵⁸⁴ Lucy had just gone to the Catskills to spend two weeks with a fellow worker in Christian philanthropy, so she was not available to advise him. Just as Will was Lucy’s strong staff, she was his guide through life, and it would be inconceivable to decide without her, yet the situation demanded a quick response. Unable to solve this mighty problem, he went to sleep.

Hundreds of miles away, Lucy awoke suddenly, with the terrible feeling that her son needed her. She anxiously told her surprised host she must leave instantly. Traveling all night, she reached Will late the next day. His astonishment was so great that he became absolutely convinced that they had been in telepathic communication.”⁵⁸⁵ Together they prayed, and the answer came to them. Will would accept a roving commission to adjust Sinclair through travel.

Among the more restful places Will took Sinclair were Brig and Thusis, deep in the Swiss Alps. Sinclair was extremely difficult to manage at times, lapsing into suicidal and homicidal rages. Will would drag a mattress in front of the door to Sinclair’s hotel room, sleeping there to prevent his patient from escaping on a rampage that might lead to any kind of disaster. One night, Will awakened suddenly to see Sinclair looming over him, about to drive a knife into his body, and with quick reflexes he was just able to avoid the blade and subdue the older man.

In Germany, they visited Christina’s grandfather to find him conducting a religious service for her. The old man was tormented by the conflicting messages he had received, and he was sorely afraid that his little girl had become a thief. “At the close of the service the American gentlemen made themselves known, and presented letters, pictures and other proofs of their statements. The aged grandfather listened intently to every word, standing all the while as though in prayer, his face as white as the silver hair which crowned it. At the close he turned quickly and threw his arms about the neck of the younger man and kissed him on both cheeks.”⁵⁸⁶

Will discovered that Fritz, Christina’s lover, had refused the marriage his parents had arranged for him, so he and Sinclair marched to their mansion and made a full report of her great progress with the Mission Society and how highly both Lucy and Brandtie esteemed her. “After hearing the reports of these two gentlemen, their hearts went out to the poor, brave little girl, and the mother said: ‘Perhaps, after all, Fritz should marry Christina and not wait any longer for us to find some other girl for him!”⁵⁸⁷ Back in New York, Lucy helped Christina sew some beautiful new clothing for herself, and once her trunk had been mended, she returned to Germany and to Fritz.

For his service to Sinclair, Will was well paid, and he was able to afford a session of post-graduate study in Vienna.⁵⁸⁸ He brought his patient to Chautauqua the following summer, where he resumed his practice for a few months and gave five public lectures. In August 1897, a nine-year old boy was riding on a hotel elevator, when he decided to inspect the mechanism by leaning out the door. In an instant his jaw was crushed by the transom of one of the doors, and if the operator had not instantly stopped the elevator, the boy would have been decapitated. Within minutes Will and Dr. Seaver were working over the boy, who had gone into shock. It was a terrible struggle to get the shattered lower jaw into place, using the upper jaw as a splint, to wire some loosened teeth together, all the while working around terrible swellings and administering chloroform and morphine. One tooth had been knocked completely out, so for days the boy was fed through a tube passed through the gap. Within two months, he had recovered to the point that he could eat normally, and Will was so proud of the successful result that he later paraded the lad at a meeting of the Buffalo Medical Society.⁵⁸⁹

Will took Sinclair back across the Atlantic, to keep the man distracted from his obsessions and gain more post-doctoral study. Altogether, he heard medical lectures and assisted great surgeons in Vienna, Budapest, Dresden, Berlin, Hamburg, Paris, London and Edinburgh. For a young American physician, it is hard to imagine more valuable experiences, but raw adventure called him away.

Just then, British major-general Horatio Herbert Kitchener was leading a small army up the Nile to avenge the death of Charles Gordon and regain the Sudan from "Mahdi" Mohammed Ahmed.⁵⁹⁰ Will and Sinclair enjoyed the luxury of a river steamer, and among their fellow passengers were a bishop on tour and a Presbyterian missionary from Pittsburgh.⁵⁹¹ When they caught up with Kitchener, he had already slaughtered a dervish army at Firket and was building a railroad in preparation for the final assault on Khartoum.

The thousand mile trip up the Nile took Will through a land of sickness and misery: “It was rumored among those poor people that there was a doctor on board. They came to me by the scores and begged me to care for them.”⁵⁹² There was much to fascinate a young physician. The eight hundred dervishes killed in the battle at Firket had been buried in shallow graves, and the putrefying corpses swelled and broke through the earth, apparently unleashing an epidemic of cholera.⁵⁹³

Next, Will and Sinclair rode by horseback through Palestine, seeing Bethel and Jerusalem, and skirted fighting that was going on around Lebanon.⁵⁹⁴ At Tiberias they met a Presbyterian missionary physician, Dr. Torrance, and they accompanied him on a medical tour of several villages, feeling like Christ’s disciples helping him heal. Wherever they went with Torrance, the people would rush forward shouting, “‘The Hakeen has come! The Master is here!’ It is a great experience to see the people from many towns and villages flock to the missionary healer to be helped.”⁵⁹⁵

Lucy’s son returned from his grand tour, and prepared to establish a medical practice, but the outbreak of the Spanish American War intervened. His cousin, Louis Livingston Seaman, was an Army surgeon with the forces sent to Cuba, and he knew this poorly-organized expedition had a great need for competent medical personnel.⁵⁹⁶ With Lucy’s enthusiastic support, Will volunteered in Rhode Island, New York, and Washington, finally being accepted into the Seventh Army Corps under General Fitzhugh Lee.⁵⁹⁷

Will’s induction into the army was delayed until the end of summer, and by then peace had been achieved. Lucy proudly cheered the American victory. “By the power of God our flag is floating in distant lands. May it wave there and here at home ‘forever’ as the emblem of a Christian nation whose hope is God, and whose prosperity is built upon the Bible.”⁵⁹⁸

On the threshold of a brilliant career, in 1897 Will chose a splendid location for his medical office, Thirty-Four Gramercy Park at the foot of Lexington Avenue in Manhattan. It reminded him of Cavendish Square in London, which was filled with successful doctors, and it was less than three blocks from Lucy’s office in the United Charities Building.⁵⁹⁹ Prosperous patients he treated during the summer in Chautauqua now flocked to his Gramercy office, augmented by others recruited through the far-flung social network of the Mission Society.

Thirty-Four was a nine-story brick and red stone masterpiece completed in 1883, boasting a “magnificent foyer decorated with stained glass and Minton tiles” and topped by a turret.⁶⁰⁰ Above the ground floor, the building encircled an inner court, and its ample awning-shaded windows drew in light from the south and west. On the outside, each story was separated from the next by strips of a different carved design. Stone lions glowered above the entrance. The marble stairs carried iron bannisters, and the thick interior brick walls had tin barriers against the mice.

Originally intended as a hotel, Thirty-Four was the first cooperative apartment house in New York. Unlike the case with a condominium, residents did not own the apartments they lived in, but Will purchased stock in the Gramercy Company which owned the entire building. His office filled the south side of the ground floor, while the apartment he shared with Lucy and Helen was directly above on the “first floor,” counting stories in the European fashion. A hall ran fifty-two feet from front to back of the grand apartment, and a small bedroom off the kitchen assured that the cook would always be near her duties. The building staff included a doorman, an elevator man, and two firemen in the basement who tended the central heating.⁶⁰¹