The Doctor Wore Petticoats: Women Physicians of the Old West

by Enss, Chris

  During their time apart, Ellis dedicated her life to following the ways of the Mormon religion. She learned all she could about the principles and disciplines of the denomination. Brigham Young, president of the church, met the devoted teenager at a service and was moved by her level of commitment to the faith. He invited Ellis to live at his Salt Lake home as one of his children and study the word of God there. Ellis graciously accepted.

  Milford’s life was as full as Ellis’s. Not only was he sharing the church’s values and teachings with spiritually hungry people at each of his mission stops, but his personal life was active as well. He had entered into a tumultuous marriage that ultimately ended in divorce.

  After the dissolution of the marriage, Milford set out on another mission trip. He was to travel through the Mormon settlements across the plains and preach. When he passed through Iowa, he and Ellis were reintroduced. After hearing him speak from the pulpit, the notion that she was destined to marry Milford was reaffirmed.

  Ellis and Milford’s relationship was rekindled, and seven years after their first meeting, the pair were wed in a simple ceremony. Milford was twenty-seven and Ellis was nineteen. Prior to exchanging vows, Ellis prayed to be a faithful wife and sustaining companion for her “dear Milf.” Their wedding was one of Ellis’s happiest moments. According to her journal entry dated May 5, 1866:The ensuing few hours are somewhat confused in my mind but I know that Brother H.C. Kimball pronounced us one—and I feel that it was not all ceremony, but that our hearts were united in an indissoluble tie that all the vicissitudes of time and sorrow could not sever or unlink.

  The Shipps’ first home was a fully furnished adobe cottage, and the newlyweds felt their small house was perfect. Just as they were settling into married life, Milford joined a militia to help protect their home and the Mormon emigrants from hostile Indians.

  The Native Americans had killed a number of sheepherders working in the hills and canyons. Milford was among several hundred troops directed to prevent any future attacks on southern Utah residents.

  During Milford’s short absence, Ellis tended her garden, made rugs and blankets for their home, pored over books on health and nutrition, and maintained a journal. When her husband returned he was greeted with news that they were expecting a baby. The first of their ten children was born early in 1867, and Ellis noted the occasion in her journal:Our Father of Love Divine bestowed upon me His mortal child, the most gracious and sanctified gift within His storehouse of blessings. A beautiful son! A body without blemish, endowed with a sanctified spirit! My beautiful baby boy!

  After a short time set aside to enjoy wife and child, Milford returned to his missionary work. Ellis was sad to see him return to the field, but she was proud of his dedication to the Lord. Her journal describes the love and admiration she had for Milford. She often noted that her passion for him was “akin to worship.” A letter from Milford, the man she believed had “no moral weakness,” temporarily halted her praise.

  Milford informed Ellis that he had succumbed to the full mandate of their religion with regards to marriage, and would soon be bringing home a new wife. Ellis was devastated at first. She believed that plural marriage was a divine command from God, but she hoped she could be Milford’s “only noble aim and purpose.” After a great deal of prayer, Ellis’s heart softened to the idea of the new woman in her life and home. Her attitude was further changed with the news that she was expecting another child.

  In 1875, Ellis and Milford celebrated nine years of marriage. During that time the couple had five children. Two of those children died in infancy, and one died at the age of five. Also during that time, Milford married two more women, bringing the total number of wives to four.

  Throughout Ellis’s married life, she maintained a thirst for knowledge. She was an insatiable reader and would typically arise three hours before the rest of the family to study religious and secular textbooks. She shared her education with students at the ward school, where she taught a variety of practical subjects. Ellis’s chief area of interest was always medicine. She felt it was the responsibility of every mother to fully know the laws of health. Her daily routine required that she rise at four in the morning so she could spend time reviewing medical journals. The busy details of a typical day for Ellis were recounted in an 1872 journal entry:Last night I wrote down my work for today which is as follows: Rise at four in the morning, dress, make a fire, sweep, wash in cold water, comb my hair, clean my teeth. Write a few lines in my journal. Write a letter to Grandmother. Read a chapter in Doctor Gunn on health. Read few extracts from Johnson. Dress the children, make bed, sweep, dust and prepare my room for the breakfast table. Breakfast at nine. Sew on machine until three. Dinner hour. After dinner call on Sister Jones, who is sick. Wash and prepare the children for bed; from six till eight, knit or do some other light work. Review my actions for the day—offer my devotions to Heaven and retire at nine.

  Ellis’s interest in medicine did not go unnoticed by her family. Milford and his other wives encouraged her to consider attending school to pursue a degree in the field. Although many university board members, instructors, and much of the population at the time frowned upon females in the medical profession, Mormon Church leaders supported women in their faith in such ventures. The idea of Ellis attending medical school had been brought up before, but separation from her family had kept her from committing:When the subject was broached to me, as being one to step out in this direction, I thought it would be what I would love and delight in . . . if this knowledge could be obtained here. But the thought of leaving home and loved ones overwhelmed me and swept from me even the possibility of making the attempt.

  Spurred on by the memory of her three children who had died, Ellis eventually decided to brave being apart from her family to learn how she might save the lives of other infants struggling with illnesses. On November 10, 1875, Ellis boarded a train bound for Philadelphia to enroll at the Philadelphia Medical College. As she tearfully waved goodbye to her sons, she tried not to think about the fact that she would not see them again for two and a half years. Instead she focused on the opportunity to acquire further knowledge in medicine and “make her life useful upon the earth.”

  Ellis’s new home in Philadelphia was a boarding house, owned and operated by members of the church. Six hours after she had arrived in the city, she was seated in one of the medical school’s halls to hear her first lecture. Her homesickness subsided as she realized how much she had to learn and how eager she was to learn it.

  By January of 1876, Ellis had become fully acclimated to her surroundings and happily overwhelmed with schoolwork. In addition to lectures and laboratory studies, Ellis observed doctors making their rounds in clinics. She learned about illnesses that primarily attacked children. She noted in her journal that it was work she felt her gender was particularly suited for:The knowledge I’m gaining now will make me more careful and more observing of little ailments in my children and meet every unfavorable symptom as it may occur. Who has greater need of understanding the laws of life and health than a woman? Truly I think she is the only one to study medicine.

  A constant stream of letters from friends and relatives in Utah helped sustain Ellis through the long hours spent poring over textbooks, completing endless homework assignments, and taking grueling examinations. In her limited leisure time, she accompanied licensed doctors through hospitals and observed as they diagnosed and treated patients.

  Some of the more serious cases—such as burn victims or children who had lost limbs due to accident and subsequent gangrene—stirred her emotions and left her discouraged. Overall, though, she enjoyed school and was grateful for the exposure to all ailments and their treatment. In an 1876 journal entry, her enthusiasm seemed boundless:How much to learn! I feel overwhelmed with the multifarious intricacies of medical education. Truly the greatest study of mankind is man, both physically and mentally.

  No matter how busy Ellis stayed with class work and field assignments,
a deep longing for her children and husband would overtake her at times. Some days she was too lonesome to keep up with her daily journal. She dragged her sorrowful and weary frame from lecture to lecture, believing in those moments the only thing that could get her through another day was the sight of her sons. Acute melancholy and the cold air in the lab where Ellis and other classmates practiced dissection contributed to a failure in her own health. Although she felt dissection was necessary for learning about the intricacies of the human body, she found the practice of mutilating the body disconcerting. As she grew accustomed to the practice, her health was restored and the horrifying dread of the work itself wore off:All disagreeable sensations are lost in wonder and admiration. Most truly man is the greatest work of God. Every bone, muscle, tendon, vein, artery, and nerve seem to me to bear the impress of divine intelligence.

  In addition to the standard studies of anatomy, metabolic diseases, and digestion, Philadelphia Medical School students were required to attend courses on basic dentistry and the administration of pharmaceuticals. Ellis’s regular second-year routine also included classes in chemistry, electric therapy, and her favorite subject, obstetrics:Attended a clinic at twelve o’clock, obstetrics by Doctor Cleveland. This to me is the most interesting part of my studies. To understand this and the diseases of children shall be my greatest object for the next two years. To be able to treat these conditions and diseases successfully, I think there could be no greater accomplishment in the medical line. At four o’clock Mrs. Pratt and I attended a lecture by Doctor Eliza Judson upon the “Management of Infancy.” To express the varying emotions that I experienced during that interesting and eloquent lecture would be impossible. In addition to the competency of the lady herself, the subject, to me so all-important, thrilled every nerve center of my being.

  The more Ellis learned about how to care for children, the more inspired she became to share her knowledge with mothers everywhere. In her journal she emphasized the importance of women awakening to the responsibilities of motherhood and striving to be better educated in order to tend to their offspring.

  Lectures given on ways to ensure the health of infants were of particular interest to Ellis. She could not help but reflect on how valuable these lessons would have been to the life of her own babies who had died at an early age. She took detailed class notes, tracing the expected development of a child from birth to twenty-four months. The notes were taken not only to help her future patients but for her own personal edification:. . . no living creature so utterly powerless, instinct only prompts it to sleep, cry, and nurse. The head of the infant at birth is more fully developed at birth than other parts of the body owing to the greater amount of pure blood which goes to this part. . . . When it enters the world it should be immediately wrapped in warm flannel and if [it is] a strong, healthy child [it] can be bathed and dressed without delay. . . . How necessary it is for mothers to cultivate the purest, mildest and ennobling emotions through these acts, for her child will partake of every sensation of her being.

  Ellis Shipp’s high marks proved she was an exceptional student. Combined with her commitment to curing children’s diseases, her exemplary grades prompted Philadelphia hospital administrators to offer her a summer internship position. She reflected in her journal that her hands-on experience there afforded her a chance to gain knowledge that would have been impossible to obtain by simply reading.

  In an attempt to complete her studies earlier than the required four-year term, Ellis decided to spend her summers in class rather than return home. On March 14, 1878, barely three years since she began medical school, Ellis graduated and was on her way back to Utah. Many changes had occurred during her absence. Her children had grown and her husband’s other wives had added to the Shipp lineage.

  Milford had changed as well. Unbeknownst to Ellis, Milford had been studying law at the same time she had been studying medicine. A few months prior to her graduation, Milford was admitted to the Salt Lake Bar.

  Once she was settled at home, Ellis began the happy task of reacquainting herself with her children. She was not in a hurry to start her own practice, but she felt compelled to do so as more female patients were referred to her by the male physician in the vicinity. Her priority was to family first and medical work second.

  Ellis’s work expanded beyond hearth and home and caring for the ailing. In the late 1800s, she was selected to represent notable Utah women at the National Council of Women in Washington, D.C. While in attendance, she presented a paper on the care and training of children. Her talk was heard by such well-known female leaders as Susan B. Anthony, Elizabeth Stanton, and Clara Barton.

  Doctor Ellis Shipp’s specialty was obstetrics and the care of women and children. During her fifty years of service to communities throughout Utah, Ellis helped deliver more than 6,000 babies. Her interest in medicine expanded beyond simply practicing the profession into the area of teaching. Early in her career, she resolved to share all she had learned about healthcare with others. It was a goal she realized in June of 1879, with the opening of a school of obstetrics. In 1909, reflecting on why such a school was necessary, Ellis wrote:As the domains of Utah were becoming inhabited by enterprising men and women, their needs must be supplied. Our new colonies in this western growing country were in sore need. There was not one in their midst who could understandingly care for expectant mothers. And thus came the urge of imparting this knowledge to women. So often we heard the pitiful stories of suffering and even death of women and children. Precious life sacrificed for the need of intelligent care.

  At the request of the president of the Latter-Day Saints Women’s Relief Society, Doctor Shipp decided to travel to other states and countries to teach women the fundamentals of science and the subjects of nursing and obstetrics. Ellis held classes in Mexico, Canada, Arizona, Colorado, and Idaho.

  The emphasis Ellis placed on a higher education was not lost on her children. All five of her offspring completed college. Two of her sons and one of her daughters became doctors themselves.

  Doctor Ellis Shipp’s illustrious medical career officially ended in 1935. At that time she was honored by her alma mater. Board members and the staff at the Philadelphia Medical College acknowledged her work in a commencement celebration. Her pioneering efforts as a woman doctor were praised, and they noted that her efforts had had a major impact on the welfare of the women and children of the West.

  On January 3, 1939, Doctor Shipp passed away quietly in her sleep. She was ninety-two years old.

  FRANC JOHNSON NEWCOMB

  NAVAJO MEDICINE WOMAN

  And swiftly we pass twixt earth and sky, the wind, the dust, the

  leaf and I.

  —Franc Johnson Newcomb, 1965

  Brilliant sunlight poured in through the numerous windows of the Pesh-do-Clish trading post and danced on the merchandise stacked neatly on the shelves. The popular mercantile sat at the tip of the Blue Mesa on the Navajo Reservation near Gallup, New Mexico. The trading post offered a wide variety of products from kerosene lamps, enamel pots, fresh mutton, and washbasins, to jewelry, clothing, and taffy. Such goods were exchanged for hard currency, or rugs, wool, or pinon nuts. The store was not only a place where patrons shopped, but it served as a community center and dispensary as well.

  Doctor Franc Johnson Newcomb, a thirty-year-old woman from Pennsylvania, worked behind the counter helping customers with their purchases and discussing the day’s news or lack thereof. The special attention she gave her Native-American clientele extended beyond their patronage; she also served as a “healer” for the Navajo.

  Among the Navajo, Franc was known as Atsay Ashon, or “the medicine woman.” Doctors in remote western territories in the 1920s were rare, and female physicians were an even greater anomaly. Franc had lived and worked alongside the Navajo for six years. She was well respected and admired, and her two young daughters were treated with equal kindness.

  MEDICINE WOMAN FRANC JOHNSON NEWCOMB WITH NAVAJO MEDICINE MAN H
OSTEEN KLAH IN FRONT OF THE TRADING POST IN 1936.

  During brief moments between customers, Franc set aside her ledger and medical charts, and stared fondly out the store’s open door at the beauty of the desert and mountains. While admiring the vast landscape, she eavesdropped on a conversation her children were having with an elderly Navajo woman. The girls had been studying a spider building its web, and were debating over who would squash the bug first. The Indian woman intervened before either of the girls had a chance to take the spider’s life.

  “Now don’t you bother that spider,” she warned. “Spiders are our friends.” The quizzical look on the children’s faces prompted the woman to explain her comment. “It was Mrs. Spider who taught the Navajo to spin fine thread of leaf fibers, cotton, and wool, and how to weave these threads into blankets and other useful articles,” she said.

  The girls turned their attention back to the spider and watched it diligently working. “And it is Mrs. Spider who catches flies, mosquitoes, and other flying insects in her web so they don’t bother us,” the woman added. Franc looked over at the wise elder and smiled. She had herself always wondered why the Navajo never killed spiders and was just as fascinated with the reason as her daughters.