I joked with someone the other day that I will never be known as Typhoid Mary. I said it because I had been given the Typhoid oral vaccine in preparation of the upcoming move to Kuala Lumpur.
But it got me thinking.
Many years ago there were two Irish born women who were each pegged as the most dangerous woman in America during their lifetime. Maybe not precisely at the same time. These ladies not only shared a birth country but also the same first name.
Mary Harris Jones (Mother Jones) was one of the two. I am sure she loved the title and wore it well during her years of fighting for the rights of workers all over this country.
But the other woman was Mary Mallon. That was her name before she got tagged with the moniker, “Typhoid Mary.” Born in County Tyrone, she came to America as a young woman. She worked as a cook in New York. And everywhere Mary worked illness was sure to follow. Three people died. While Mary herself was always perfectly healthy.
Can you imagine how scared she must have been? She must have had a very difficult time being convinced she was a carrier of something so awful. Especially when she felt fine.
Mary’s only means of support was her work as a cook. That is all she knew. There weren’t a lot of choices for someone like her. An immigrant. Single. Female. No family in the United States. Alone. No education. No other skills.
Imagine being picked up and taken away by the police. She would spend a total of thirty years of her life in quarantine. On an island with no freedom. But outwardly healthy.
I am thinking that Mary Mallon was never the most dangerous woman in America. She was probably just the most frightened.
Leave a comment