Zana Bell is an internationally published author with a PhD in Creative Writing. Last year she was the grateful recipient of the History and Heritage Research grant and is currently working on a biography of Auckland’s first woman doctor, Alice Woodward Horsley.
In celebration of International Women’s Day, let us salute the remarkable Eleanor McLaglan Baker (1879-1969). She belonged to the first wave of women doctors, graduating from the University of Otago Medical School in 1903, and her lively autobiogragraphy Stethoscope and Saddlebags vividly and humorously captures the difficulties of a female medico forging a career in the first half of the twentieth century.
Eleanor McLaglan Baker’s ‘Saddlebags and Stethescope’ – her autobiography about her forging a career as a woman in medicine
No one wanted a woman doctor in those days and Eleanor had neither money nor family connections to help her. She particularly wanted to work in hospitals and, after multiple rejections, was finally offered a post at the North Wairoa Hospital at Te Kopuru, a tiny, remote, poverty-stricken settlement on Northland’s West Coast. Yet even this desperate little village warned her this was only until they could get a ‘real’ doctor.
A pair of dental pliers – tools of the trade in early anaesthesia and surgery
Eleanor loved her patients which she described as a mix of warm-welcoming Māori communities, ‘excellent’ Dalmatian immigrants working on the bleak gum fields and ‘splendid’ bushmen who were busy hacking down the mighty forests at a tremendous rate. As the only doctor in the region, she was extremely busy, not only treating illnesses but delivering babies, setting broken bones, pulling teeth and even tending animals on occasion. Her medical bag was therefore crammed with an extraordinary range of beautifully crafted instruments to meet any medical emergency and are now on display at the excellent Whangārei Medical Museum.
Set of dental instruments including a mirror and hooks
Northland barely had any roads at that time, so she traveled everywhere on horseback – up to 20-30 miles a day. Eleanor describes how she solved the problem of taking a basically portable hospital with her.
I acquired 2 saddles, one of which was a beauty, a trooper saddle from the Boer War; it was padded differently, with two long rolls on each side of the horse’s backbone. The rolls stuck out behind and beyond the saddle seat. There were D staples along the sides to which my saddlebags could be fastened, and across the back of the extended pads I fastened a plated fish kettle in a canvas case. This was used as a steriliser and also carried my midwifery forceps and such larger instruments.
A metal steriliser with forceps – demonstrating innovations in instrument care and surgical hygiene
It was not easy terrain: either dense forest or barren, muddy plains dominated by a wide river with few, far-flung sprinklings of human habitation. She describes her night callouts evocatively:
Those rides all alone in the silent nights were full of witchery. The only sounds were a gentle rustle of leaves in a wayside tree, the soft thud of my horse’s hooves on the dirt track, perhaps a hunting morepork calling here and there. And how the stars shone and twinkled! Occasionally there was a lunar rainbow, ghostly and beautiful. Even on moonless nights I could see the river gleaming and follow its course.
But there were other nights when gentle spirits hid and the spirits of rain, wind and thunder took control. If not too boisterous they could be exhilarating, but when really roused they buffeted and bullied me into a soaked and wretched traveller. I remember one dreadful night with the rain pouring in sheets, when I was called out five times. Each time I had to go out to the paddock, catch and saddle up a protesting horse, more and more unwilling to be caught. And no wonder, for all my clothes, the saddle and the horse were utterly drenched.
The elements were only one problem. Sometimes she had to take a firm stand with her patients who were particularly suspicious of anaesthesia. Eleanor describes one instance when she was called to see a 10-year-old child whose chest was filled with liquid. She told the parents she must immediately drain it.
“Oh no,” said the mother and father. “No operation, we will not allow it.”
I said I only wanted to insert a rubber tube to drain the chest.
“Well if that’s all, you go may go ahead.”
I put the child on the kitchen table sterilised the rubber tube and the instruments on the kitchen stove, turned out father and family and locked the door. I then lightly anaesthetised the child to the accompaniment of blows upon the locked door and demands from the family to let them in.
I did so and witnessed an extraordinary scene as Father fell, sprawling headlong into the room. Mother stumbled over him and the rest of the family on top of them.
Fortunately, by the time the family had recovered themselves the child was coming out of the anaesthetic, and a convincing stream of thin purulent fluid was pouring into a pie dish I’d take from the kitchen dresser. The child made an uninterrupted recovery.
A set of catheters with a storage pouch – vital medical instruments used in patient care
After three years of rural medical practice, Eleanor still could not get a job in a hospital. Instead, she was employed for the next few decades by the school medical system and found deep satisfaction in rectifying poor eyesight, dealing with rotten teeth, and helping deaf children as well as being involved in health camps.
One chapter of her life was left out of her autobiography. In 1923, Eleanor went to Britain where she met and married one Sydney Leopold Temple McLaglan, a man as colourful as his name. Several years her junior, he was tall (6foot 7inches), a captain in the army and an expert on Ju Jitsu about which he wrote a book. He also published books on bayonetting and women’s self-defence. They returned to New Zealand, but their marriage only lasted a few years. Sydney went off to Hollywood where his brother, Victor, was a well-known stuntman and actor. Sydney did not enjoy the same success. His exploits went from bad to worse and eventually he was arrested for being involved in a plan to assassinate 24 Hollywood Jews.
Small wonder Eleanor deleted him from her life.
A metal steriliser with a mini saw, tweezers and other medical instruments
When many doctors went overseas during World War Two, Eleanor finally secured her coveted job in a hospital. Despite being now 60 years old, she became a house surgeon, then registrar and finished her working life as second in command of a Wellington geriatric hospital, retiring aged 73. She was 85 when she wrote her memoir and interestingly was her first job that she remembered with the most fondness.
Looking back those seem to me to have been the most soul-satisfying days of my life. People came to me for help. I did the best I could for them. Sometimes a patient might have been better treated by a better doctor if one could have been obtained. But no such person could be reached. I used everything I had of mind, heart and body.
All images courtesy of Whangārei Medical Museum; Photo credit: Ellie Smith.