Lucius Taylor Barbour and the Keeley Treatment


Lucius Taylor Barbour, age 20, in the 12th Indiana Volunteer Infantry, Co. K


     Imagine opening your newspaper and seeing a full-paged ad, with the bold headline, “How many homes have been made happy by the cure of drunkeness?  DRUNKENESS IS A DISEASE. It can be cured.” The ad was accompanied by 20 testimonials from cured patients, and another 14 letters from the governor of Minnesota, the mayor of Minneapolis, and a plethora of ministers endorsing this wonderful cure. Imagine if you are struggling with “inebriation” – or the wife of one who is. Here was hope. This was the promise of the Keeley Institute, a nineteenth century addiction treatment center.

     

My great-grandfather is Clyde Banta Barbour. He was very close to his uncle, Lucius Taylor Barbour, a Civil War veteran who was captured and held as a prisoner of war in the notorious Andersonville Prison (and at other Confederate prisons). That Lucius made it out alive is rather remarkable – about a third of Andersonville’s 45,000 prisoners did not. 


       When Lucius was released, he weighed only 72 pounds and was too weak to walk unassisted. Even before his incarceration, Lucius had suffered terribly. He was wounded in the leg in the Battle of Richmond, Kentucky; recovered and rejoined his regiment. Then, in the Battle of Missionary Ridge east of Chattanooga, a ball blasted into his face, destroying his left upper jaw and five teeth. This was someone lucky to be alive before antibiotics or sterilization of tools, linens and doctor’s hands. But he was not left unscathed. Today, he would probably be diagnosed with post-traumatic stress syndrome, PTSD.

     Lucius joined the 12th Indiana Volunteer Infantry, Company K out of Fort Wayne with his cousin, James O. Bird. Two sisters watched with trepidation as their sons went off to war together. Both sons returned. James completely fell apart, was adjudicated to be insane and was eventually confined to the Eastern Indiana Hospital for the Insane in Richmond, Indiana, where he lived for the rest of his life. Lucius coped by drinking. His first wife left him and took their three kids back to her hometown in Rising Sun, Indiana, where she lived as a “straw widow” for the rest of her life. 

     Lucius moved a pretty young divorcee with three kids into his home – my great-grandfather Clyde’s beloved Aunt Alice. In 1884, Lucius and Alice had a daughter, Edna Naomi, out of wedlock. In fact, Lucius was still married to his first wife, Lizzie. It probably seemed like a good idea to get a fresh start away from gossip. Lucius and Alice moved to Kansas, where eventually his father bought him a farm outside of Coffeyville, Kansas. In 1887, he filed for divorce on the grounds of desertion and Lizzie did not contest his petition. That October, he and Alice finally married. They had lived together since at least the 1880 census.

     Lucius was obviously a man who was well-liked and well thought of. He was elected Fawn Creek Township Trustee. He ran for probate judge, and though he did not win, he was warmly endorsed by two newspapers. He was also repeatedly chosen for other posts: head of the Republican Party committee in his township, head of the Sandy Ridge Alliance, a farming group, and head of the Farmers’ Alliance. He was active in the Presbyterian Church and described as a leading farmer in the Coffeyville newspapers.

     March 1892 an item in the Fort Wayne Sentinel mentioned that he was visiting his father. March 11th The Coffeyville Weekly Journal reported he had just returned from Chicago “much improved in health.” A year later, that cryptic line in the paper became clear. Under the heading, “A Pleasant Anniversary” was a story that began like this:


On last Thursday there assembled at L.T. Barbour’s residence in Fawn Creek Township one of the largest social gatherings it has been our privilege to attend; the occasion being the first anniversary of Mr. B.’s escape by means of the Keeley method, which has proved such a blessing to so many hundreds in the past few years.


      Wait - what? Keeley method? Escape? 

     This was a big surprise to me. First I had to learn what the “Keely method” was, and that was interesting. Secondly, when substance abuse is still shrouded in shame today, it’s surprising to read about a celebration of an anniversary of sobriety.

  For that’s what this was.

  Dr. Lesley Keeley had a fast rise from miracle worker to quack, but he is still credited by some with being among the first to identify alcoholism as a medical and not a moral problem. He said, “Drunkenness is a disease and I can cure it.” He claimed a 95 percent success rate.

  His treatment consisted of a 31-day stay at what we would call a rehab center. Patients were given four injections a day of “double chloride of gold,” and took a tonic every two hours. Patients were assigned a personal attendant who took meals with them, slept in a cot in their room, attended to their needs and monitored their compliance with the Institute policies.

  Keeley’s first rehab center was in Dwight, Illinois, near Chicago, which is probably where Lucius stayed. It had opened in 1879. Keeley also responded to the growing recognition of alcoholism among Civil War veterans, particularly disabled ones, who filled 28 state and national veterans homes, training doctors in his methods. From 1890 to 1893 there was an explosion of growth as Keely franchised branches. By 1893 there were 118 Keeley Institutes in the U.S., England, Finland, Denmark and Sweden. The Keeley method was heavily advertised in newspapers, magazines, billboards and touring speakers. The center at Dwight, Illinois was like the Betty Ford Center of its day. People understood what was meant by “going to Dwight.” Cost was roughly equivalent to $12,500 in today’s money. My guess would be that once again, the deep pockets of Lucius’s father paid for his stay. Although there was a Keeley franchise in Kansas, it must have been thought better to go to Chicagoland.

      “Graduates” were encouraged to write testimonials and to join Keeley Leagues, which we could liken to a support group, – and maybe this is part of the reason for Lucius’s very public celebration of sobriety.

      As for Dr. Keeley, by the time he died a multi-millionaire in 1900, 400,000 people had taken the Keeley cure. It was already in decline, with many competitors and others attacking him as a fraud and a quack.

     At Lucius’ one-year sobriety anniversary, his pastor, Rev. Stanley D. Jewell, gave a heartfelt speech. Lucius’ friends presented him with a meerschaum pipe. There were poetry recitations, including one called “Hoosier Home” from a childhood friend from Fort Wayne. Of course “a grand feast” was served by the Barbours, who were described as “royal entertainers.”

     Sobriety can be a hard thing to sustain. When Lucius, clearly a good man, well-liked and loved by his family, died  in 1903, the cause was listed as “alcohol.”  

 

Sources:

 

     White, William L. Slaying the Dragon:The History of Addiction Treatment and Recovery in America, Chestnut Health System, 1998.

     “The Keeley Institute,” The Minneapolis Journal, 4 March 1897, p. 17.

     “Prisoner Photos,” Andersonville National Historic Site, National Park Service,           https://www.nps.gov/media/photo/gallery.htm?pg=1341849&id=25001AB0-1DD8-B71C-079A07B44D6707A4

     “A Pleasant Anniversary,” Coffeyville Weekly Journal, 24 Feb 1893, p. 1.

     Find a Grave, https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/75407780/lucius-taylor-barbour, Memorial Page 75407780, Lucius Taylor Barbour (1841-1903), citing Fairfield Cemetery, maintained by Freda. 


Copyright Andrea Auclair © 2022

     


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