"We have stony hearts toward the living and we erect monuments of stone to the dead. A living memorial is the only kind worthy of living beings, whether they are with us here or have gone Beyond. Better name after him the street in or near which he lived than to erect some obstruction in stone, for the one comes into our life and the other we pass by carelessly. But better set to work the noble ideas which he had and do, as far as we may and can, that which he longed to do. Thus he remains in our lives, the living factor that he was, and the memory of him does not become part of a tombstone or a static statue." -- William Z. Spiegelman.

Monday, January 30, 2012

Jewish Men in the Public Eye: Nathan Straus

The Sentinel: A Weekly Newspaper Devoted to Jewish Interests, date unknown (1926?).

A small house with no furniture except a broken table, one baby chair, three straw-filled sacks lying on the floor, four children between the ages of three and eight -- half starved, more undressed than dressed, sitting on the floor, not playing, but on the verge of crying, as if something very unpleasant were going to happen. A woman not over thirty-five, holding in her arms a dying baby of three. Her features could tell the story: A life wrecked, through no fault of hers. The care and worries of a helpless, lonesome mother, destroyed all semblance of what was once great feminine beauty. Her husband taken to the army, left in a small city overshadowed by the depressing skies of the Pina Plains through which armies were marching; without supplies, no chicken to be procured, not even a glass of milk to be obtained.

"The little one dies because I could not nourish it," she cried in despair.

All the horrors of the war, the misery and the suffering of the adults, the struggle for freedom, democracy, independence and the idea of the future ideal state, appeared to me as things worthless, were there only something which could save the life of this little innocent baby.

It was during the summer of 1917 when the great struggle went on, spreading on one hand, death, misery and suffering, and on the other, strengthened faith and renewed hope for some kind of a better future, which is, after all, to be the result.

The result? For whom?

Under the brightest of circumstances and the most consoling and quieting beauty of the ever-changing landscapes which travel affords, I could never forget that apparently insignificant dying baby.

The physician who was, after many hours, brought with great difficult from a distant city on a wagon drawn by oxen, diagnosed, too late, the case in the words, "Death resulted from under-nourishment and contracted tuberculosis."

* * *

On a Sunday noon, several years later, I found myself in a crowded train bound for Mamaronick -- the residence of Nathan Straus.

In the colorful and overwhelming pyramid of American life, there is hardly a feature that carries a greater appeal to the human heart and mind of all humanity than the picture of that grand old man who spent his life and his energy for the sake of the world's babies. How I did regret that the influence of his work did not reach out in time to prevent the death of the little one under the Pina skies.

In 1891, out of every thousand babies born in New York City, 241 died before they were a year old. This means that one-fourth of all the newly born babies did not have even a chance to live. It was in this year that Nathan Straus set out on the mission of his life. Not a scientist, merely a successful and wealthy businessman, a devoted father, he made it his ambition to call the world's attention to the fundamental principle of life-saving.

"The future of the nation and of humanity lies in the cradle." It is as simple and obvious that one really must have great courage to proclaim it as the Shibboleth. This, one would think, plain, self-explanatory and obvious sentence required the fortune, energy, foresight, determination and good-heartedness of a man of the caliber of Nathan Straus to translate it into the economic system and bring it into the realm of questions which deserve attention. Millions of babies were born, fed with the unclean and disease-carrying milk of tubercular cows, died in the best of cases; in the majority of cases continued to live as crippled, tubercular beings, filing the hospitals, jails and institutions -- a burden to themselves and a burden to the community.

Nathan Straus conceived, one might say, the inspiration to remedy the evil at its root. How was it to be done? Simply. Not to give the babies unclean milk.

Since modern society in the great cities has been organized on principles of a commercial regime, leaders have awakened to the existence of various problems. There is a meat problem, a fish problem, an unemployment problem, an employment problem, and many other problems. Nathan Straus has added to this multitude of problems one fundamental one -- the milk problem.

Out of every 1,000 babies born in the City of New York now, instead of 241, only 75 die. Out of 54 larger cities in the United States, 48 now follow the advice and system of Nathan Straus, in supervising or encouraging the supply of pasteurized milk.

Since the time of the great Greek philosophers, the discussion has never ceased as to what is the motive and nature of philanthropy. The word in itself, which would seemingly give the best definition -- love of mankind -- has acquired, in the course of the dispute, a particular meaning.

Love of mankind? Love for beauty, youth, happiness and perfection is natural. Philanthropy -- the love for imperfect humanity, for victims of nature or social regimes -- is a state of mind which is not easily understood and appreciated. What is the motive of the giver? Is it pity? The moral injury imposed upon the beneficiary is equal or perhaps greater than the amount of temporary relief. Is it egotism? Is it prompted by the feeling which accentuates at the moment the gap between the giver and the receiver? So or otherwise, philanthropy in the old-fashioned style, under the influence of modern tendencies, still leaves room for a heated difference of opinion.

Yet the world is far from perfection; the human race is to a large extent handicapped; the social evils are still numerous. True, present-day philanthropy remedied the situation by introducing the system of organization, removing thus the personal contact between those who give and those who are compelled to take. Here, again, the sharpened points of "organized" charity are ofttimes not less painful.

The life work of Nathan Straus, although the dictionary has not provided another term, is more than philanthropy. Nathan Straus has the distinction of having enriched the English language with an expression which could easily be translated into many other languages and transplanted into many other spheres of human endeavor. It is the word "preventorium." What he really has accomplished or, better, given an indication of what can be accomplished, is how to prevent philanthropy. But to prevent philanthropy, it takes a philanthropist, a great fortune, a big heart, an open purse, an open mind and boundless energy.

* * *

There has not been a single idea of principle worthy of its name, destined to become a utilizing power, that has not met with resistance and struggle. But it always took the personality of its originator to being it to victory. What did Nathan Straus have which enabled him to carry on his fight for the babies' sake? His army, the number of which is legion -- the world's babies -- were mere infants. All he has was the most resourceful when it is in existence: his personality, desire and determination to help. The elemental opposition to every innovation, the resistance of organized interests, was the great obstacle.

Pasteurization, the precept suggested, demonstrated and advocated by Nathan Straus, is a process named after one of the greatest scientists, Louis Pasteur. It was he who suggested heating below the boiling point as a means for destroying bacterial organisms in fluids. However, his experiments had nothing at all to do with milk. Said Nathan Straus, "Pasteurization destroys all the germs of disease that may be in the milk, but does not impair the taste, digestibility or nutritive qualities of the milk. Cow's milk, pasteurized, is then a perfect food for adults; but cow's milk needs something further to make it an ideal food for infants. Their immature organs are capable only of digesting the ingredients in such proportions as they are found in mother's milk. A process called 'modification' makes cow's milk all that the baby's system and condition require.

"Milk, then, in order to be suited to a baby's needs, must meet with these three requirements: It must be as pure as possible; it must be pasteurized; and it must be properly modified. The Nathan Straus Pasteurized Milk Laboratory solves these problems."

His famous milk stations, maintained at an enormous expense for a quarter of a century, in spite of opposition and, not seldom, even of ridicule, demonstrated in an unmistakable way how easily human lives can be saved, how much disease and misery can be prevented, if the proper care is given and the right method is applied. The health departments of American cities have already learned to value and apply the precept of Nathan Straus. Other large cities and other governments still have to be convinced and this great American Jew does not, at the age of 76, shrink from the task. The Straus enlightenment work concerning pasteurization is now being extensively carried on in England, France and other countries. There is no record available as to the amount of money spent by Mr. Straus in his charitable work, but it can be safely said that to every day of his useful life, many thousands of babies owe their life and health.

* * *

How does a father of so many babies feel at his advanced age? A man whose main care was not only his own and his family's welfare, but also the welfare of his race and the happiness of mankind?

In his palatial home, the grand old man with so many recollections of work and deeds that could justify an air of self-satisfaction and pride, simplicity is the striking note; the oneness of the individual life, no matter to what imaginary height it may have reached, is the conception here.

With understanding and forgiveness Nathan Straus tells the story of the conceited successful lawyer who reached the goal of his am- [rest of article missing]

No comments:

Post a Comment