The Resurrectionist The Lost Work of Dr. - By E. B. Hudspeth Page 0,4
own; some believe that Spencer employed the lessons learned from his childhood to locate and dig up fresh cadavers for research. He never wrote about those experiences, however.
By this time, Bernard had finished his studies and traveled to New York to begin a successful career with the New York Society of Science, but his accomplishments would soon be dwarfed by those of his brother. Even by the age of nineteen, Spencer Black had cemented his reputation as one of the country’s brightest young scientists. His motivation, drive, and passion for research are all evident in his journal entries of the year 1870.
February 1870
I am working now, ceaselessly, with no apparent results. I have come to believe there is something greater to learn about anatomy, something more meaningful than a simple physical mutation or flaw in human growth or development. Thus far, in my embryonic research, I cannot discover the source or even the impetus for such mutations. They aren’t sensible; something must be explained or understood prior to their acceptance. We as scientists, physicians, sophists, do not allow such nonsense as god and monsters to infect our logic.
A man walks, he talks, he attacks and he parries. He does all of these wondrous things; and yet some persist in being born unable to do any of them.
I cannot assume that I am going to discover any cause as to why children can be born without arms or why twins are born fused together—why extra fingers and toes can grow, or none can grow at all. Why does the human form exist so? Why not another arrangement? As soon as I can understand this, I will move forward.
I must know why five fingers are intended before I can discover the cause of six.
The questions regarding nature’s ability to malfunction disturb me greatly. I never believed in the delineation of God or nature, only that certain laws maintain—one of which is function. I’ve wrestled with the fallibility of this perfect organism—our body. How can the body, being designed and charged to a specific task, mutate and abandon its function without the fulfillment of another one? These are fundamental principles that cannot be merely glanced at and then disregarded while using barbaric words like “deformed” or “diseased.” Simply stating that an object is in disrepair does not allow that object the benefit of a new identity. I now set out to examine the very seed that is the cause of my vexing: Why can the body mutate?
In the spring of 1870, Black began a special surgical program at the Academy of Medicine that was dedicated to the research and improvement of operable birth defects: it was the first of its kind. The intention was to learn how to help those who were afflicted with various deformities, and perhaps to prevent the deformities in future births. Since Joseph Warren Denkel was already mentoring Black, the elder scientist was tasked with overseeing the operation. Also participating was Dr. Joab A. Holace, an American physician renowned for his work on embryonic research and conjoined twins. Black was immediately impressed with Dr. Holace, as is clear from his journal entry dated May 1870:
I have attended lectures of his before and was impressed with his oratory prowess—remarks he simply uttered without consideration resonated as profound revelations. His thoughts seemed preformed, as though he had carefully composed them the night prior but he then gave them out freely, like a wealthy man tossing unwanted change to paupers. There is much to gain from him.
The academy granted the team the use of a separate operating room on the third floor, where there was plenty of light, privacy, and space. This special laboratory would later be known only as Ward C. Privileged with the newest technology—microscopes, chemicals, and tools—Ward C became famous for being one of the most advanced scientific research spaces in the world. It was certainly unique in its specialty.
The team consisted of Denkel (Ward C’s administrator), two surgeons (Drs. Black and Holace), and two specialists in human mutations. Their first operation was performed on June 3, 1870. The patient was a young man whose fingers were fused together, a condition known as ectrodactyly, or lobster’s claw, because of the hands’ appearance. This operation was relatively simple and resulted in success. Later that same summer, the team operated on a young girl born with polydactyly, a condition wherein digits or limbs are duplicated. The young girl had an additional right arm fused directly above her natural right arm, spanning