"An eye for colorful vignettes and anecdotes. On target! She recognizes the importance of her subject." -- Thomas N. Bonner, author of To the Ends of the Earth: Women's Search for Education in Medicine Those struggling to deal with the AIDS epidemic might learn valuable lessons from the earlier struggle of the U.S. to deal with syphilis. Here, Suzanne Poirier tells the story of the Chicago Syphilis Control Program launched in 1937 by the Chicago Board of Health and the U.S. Public Health Service and severely limited from the start because of the refusal of government, the press, and the public to confront directly the issues underlying the problem. Poirier's narrative is memorable for its vivid scenes, colorful characters that include Chicago's "clap doctor," Dr. Ben Reitman, and its account of the heated debate that surrounded the effort. In an epilogue, the author discusses similarities between current efforts against AIDS and the handling and politics of the syphilis problem in the late 1930s.

This book discusses the development of key issues in research ethics relevant for clinical sociologists, concerning client rights to confidentiality, privacy, and informed consent. It describes the US human research protection system used by clinical and applied sociologists, through a history of research ethics, including the landmark Belmont Report and the creation of the regulatory structure of Institutional Review Boards (IRBs) in the United States. It also discusses ethical research systems in other nations like Canada, the UK, Australia and New Zealand. The book provides a comprehensive account of controversial studies in the US, including Milgram’s Obedience to Authority, Zimbardo’s Stanford Prison Experiment, and the US Public Health Service, and the Tuskegee Syphilis Study, and analyzes how ethical concerns in these studies were or were not resolved. This book covers a topic of core interest to clinical and applied sociologists and other social science practitioners who do research, as well as students and teachers in research ethics courses in anthropology, psychology, political science, sociology, and philosophy, thereby broadening an awareness of clinical sociology.

This book examines posters produced by the Works Progress Administration (WPA), a federal relief program designed to create jobs in the United States during the Great Depression. Cory Pillen focuses on several issues addressed repeatedly in the roughly 2,200 extant WPA posters created between 1935 and 1943: recreation and leisure, conservation, health and disease, and public housing. As the book shows, the posters promote specific forms of knowledge and literacy as solutions to contemporary social concerns. The varied issues these works engage and the ideals they endorse, however, would have resonated in complex ways with the posters’ diverse viewing public, working both for and against the rhetoric of consensus employed by New Deal agencies in defining and managing the relationship between self and society in modern America. This book will be of interest to scholars in design history, art history, and American studies.

Providing a richer, more complex understanding of a critical chapter in the history of sexually transmitted diseases, In Search of Sexual Health will prove valuable to historians of medicine, public health, and the environment, in addition to scholars of race, gender, sexuality.

The story of an infamous poison that left toxic bodies and decimated wildlife in its wake is also a cautionary tale about how corporations stoke the flames of science denialism for profit. The chemical compound DDT first earned fame during World War II by wiping out insects that caused disease and boosting Allied forces to victory. Americans granted it a hero’s homecoming, spraying it on everything from crops and livestock to cupboards and curtains. Then, in 1972, it was banned in the US. But decades after that, a cry arose to demand its return. This is the sweeping narrative of generations of Americans who struggled to make sense of the notorious chemical’s risks and benefits. Historian Elena Conis follows DDT from postwar farms, factories, and suburban enclaves to the floors of Congress and tony social clubs, where industry barons met with Madison Avenue brain trusts to figure out how to sell the idea that a little poison in our food and bodies was nothing to worry about. In an age of spreading misinformation on issues including pesticides, vaccines, and climate change, Conis shows that we need new ways of communicating about science—as a constantly evolving discipline, not an immutable collection of facts—before it’s too late.

Hard Labor and Hard Time is a history of continuity and change in Florida's state prison system between 1910 and 1957, exploring conditions at the state prison farm at Raiford (the third largest prison farm in the South at this time) as well as in the chain gangs and road prisons. Vivien Miller examines the experiences of the prisoners as well as the guards and other prison personnel in this comprehensive, groundbreaking study. She demonstrates that despite progressive changes in the treatment of inmates (better diet, better structuring of work and leisure activities, better medical provision, and the like), these improvements were matched by continued brutality and mistreatment, unequal or discriminatory treatment according to race and/or gender, and neglect.

This book provides the first account of the invention of the tramp as a social type in the United States between the 1870s and the 1930s. Tim Cresswell considers the ways in which the tramp was imagined and described and how, by World War II, it was being reclassified and rendered invisible. He describes the "tramp scare" of the late nineteenth century and explores the assumption that tramps were invariably male and therefore a threat to women. Cresswell also examines tramps as comic figures and looks at the work of prominent American photographers which signaled a sympathetic portrayal of this often-despised group. Perhaps most significantly, The Tramp in America calls into question the common assumption that mobility played a central role in the production of American identity. “This is an effective, and sometimes touching, account of how a social phenomenon was created, classified and reclassified. The quality of the writing, the excellent illustrations and the high production standards give this reasonably-priced hardback a chance of appealing to a general audience . . . an important contribution to American studies, providing new perspectives on the significance of mobility and rootlessness at an important time in the development of the nation. Cresswell successfully illuminates the history of a disadvantaged and marginal group, while providing a lens by which to focus on the thinking and practices of the mainstream culture with which they dealt. As such, this book represents a considerable achievement.”—Cultural Geographies “An important book. Cresswell has made an important contribution to a homelessness literature still lacking a more sophisticated theoretical edge. Clearly written, beautifully illustrated and with a strong argument throughout, the book deserves to be widely read by students and practitioners alike.”—Progress in Human Geography

From Victorian anxieties about syphilis to the current hysteria over herpes and AIDS, the history of venereal disease in America forces us to examine social attitudes as well as purely medical concerns. In No Magic Bullet, Allan M. Brandt recounts the various medical, military, and public health responses that have arisen over the years--a broad spectrum that ranges from the incarceration of prostitutes during World War I to the establishment of required premarital blood tests. Brandt demonstrates that Americans' concerns about venereal disease have centered around a set of social and cultural values related to sexuality, gender, ethnicity, and class. At the heart of our efforts to combat these infections, he argues, has been the tendency to view venereal disease as both a punishment for sexual misconduct and an index of social decay. This tension between medical and moral approaches has significantly impeded efforts to develop "magic bullets"--drugs that would rid us of the disease--as well as effective policies for controlling the infections' spread. In this 35th anniversary edition of No Magic Bullet, Brandt reflects on recent scholarship, the persistence of sexually transmitted diseases, and the trajectory of the HIV epidemic, as they have informed contemporary conceptions of biomedicine and global health.