48 pages • 1 hour read
Deborah BlumA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
The USDA’s objections to Coca Cola’s manufacturing practices centered primarily around the amount of caffeine contained in the final product. The department also believed that adverse psychological and physiological effects were likely to arise with excessive exposure. Also of concern were the conditions under which the syrup from which the drink was derived were produced. Observers, including Kebler, reported that the conditions were unsanitary; for example, the man in charge of mixing the syrup was pushing the crystalized caffeine powder into the vat with his bare, dirty feet. In line with one of Wiley’s closely held beliefs about transparency in advertising, many contended that the very name Coca-Cola was not only a misnomer, but intentionally deceptive. The soft drink no longer contained cocaine, but the name implied a mixed cocaine-caffeine blend.
The manufacturer and the USDA each presented witnesses to argue their positions, but the content of both sides’ testimony eventually mattered very little. Coca-Cola’s legal team argued that caffeine was an essential component of the recipe for Coca-Cola. They rationalized that caffeine should be considered neither an additive nor an adulterant used to mislead, mask, dilute, or preserve their product. As a key ingredient in their overall formula, it was outside the government’s purview to attempt to regulate its inclusion in the brand name soda. The judge sided with Coca-Cola based and dismissed the government’s case against the manufacturer.
One of the expert consultants Dr. Wiley hired to join him in Tennessee to testify for the USDA was a scientist from New York named Henry Rusby. Rusby, who had been a consultant since before the change in administration, was concerned about the reduction in the daily rate for consultants from $20 under President Roosevelt to $9 under President William Howard Taft. If he traveled to Tennessee at that rate and remained on location for the trial, he would losing money under the lower rate. Bigelow reasoned that because Rusby was working for the department in other capacities, they could place Rusby on a $1,600 yearly salary. Wilson signed off on this expense at the time, later claiming he did not remember doing so. Frederick Dunlap had been appointed acting chief of the bureau of chemistry while Wiley was at the hearings and was granted permission from Dr. Wiley to use Dr. Wiley’s office. Availing himself of the opportunity to rifle through Dr. Wiley’s property, Dunlap learned of Henry Rusby’s salary arrangement, and he, along with McCabe and Wilson, devised a plan to accuse Dr. Wiley, Kebler, and Bigelow of misappropriation of government funds.
Dr. Wiley had encountered Anna Kelton several times in recent years, as they both had become more involved in the women’s movement. After a chance encounter at a streetcar stop, they began socializing together again. In December of 1910, Dr. Wiley proposed to Anna again, and she happily accepted. Dr. Wiley was overjoyed, as he had always been in love with Anna, and had become even more enamored and proud of her activism as a fierce suffragist.
Wilson, McCabe, and Dunlap initiated their scheme against Wiley, Bigelow, and Kebler. Disappointed, President Taft ordered that Dr. Wiley, Bigelow, and Kebler be notified. To Bigelow’s surprise, Dr. Wiley was delighted. His nemeses in the department had finally taken explicit action against him. Now the animosity brewing between them could be directly addressed, and Wiley could strike back without reserve. The press crucified Wilson, McCabe, and Dunlap, scolding them for the audacity with which they attempted to oust Dr. Wiley without his knowledge.
Furthermore, the newspapers investigated how Wilson, McCabe and Dunlap were themselves making use of government funds. The press discovered enormous financial indiscretions including spending of federal money for personal luxuries, exorbitant salaries, and funding for the Remsen Board. By this point, the Board was seen as an unnecessary redundancy, primarily concocted to challenge those in the department who were actually doing their jobs. The public flooded President Taft with letters and telegrams praising Dr. Wiley and expressing their gratitude for all the work he had done on behalf of the American people. Senator Ralph W. Moss of Indiana called for a set of hearings to investigate spending and management at the bureau. Wilson, McCabe, and Dunlap were called to account for failures to prosecute more than 500 of the cases Dr. Wiley presented for legal action, and for preventing Dr. Wiley from testifying in hearings. Wilson admitted to the suppression of Dr. Wiley’s scientific reports. Along with McCabe, and Dunlap, Wilson also admitted that he made executive decisions on matters related to food chemistry without consulting Dr. Wiley, despite the doctor’s vastly superior knowledge and experience. The Moss hearings cleared Dr. Wiley and Rusby and concluded that the department overall was under subpar management. It further concluded that, despite the need for some compromise with food and drink manufacturers, Wilson, McCabe, Dunlap, and the members of the Remsen Board were overly sympathetic to the food and chemical manufacturing industries, constituting a disservice to the American people.
Wilson was humiliated, and in misplaced retaliation against Dr. Wiley he was even more oppositional. Although Dr. Wiley was deeply moved by the outpouring of support that he received, he realized that after 29 years he had reached an impasse. He knew that he would be stymied in every effort he put forth to try to continue creating meaningful change. In the wake of the debacle with McCabe, Dunlap, and Wilson, Wiley received numerous job offers, and he happily accepted one which aligned perfectly with his goals for the future.
Dr. Wiley accepted a position with Good Housekeeping magazine, a publication written primarily for a female audience. The magazine spanned diverse topics including how to make the perfect stuffed potatoes with cheese, how to plant a self-sustaining fruit and vegetable garden, and how to teach sexual hygiene. Dr. Wiley received double what his salary had been at the USDA and was appointed as the director of the new “food, health and sanitation division.” The magazine gave Dr. Wiley his own laboratory based in Washington DC, where he performed tests on popular products on the market. In addition to a column on food safety, Dr. Wiley reported on the safety and efficacy of other products he evaluated. The origins of the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval, considered a distinction of trustworthiness and merit among consumers and manufacturers alike, stemmed from Wiley’s evaluation methods. The magazine accepted paid advertisements from food, drug, and cosmetic companies, and Wiley was given the authority to test every single product before it was allowed to appear in the pages of Good Housekeeping. He was not apprehensive about using his veto power to reject or strike an ad when he felt that the product it touted was unsafe.
After the poor opinion he earned for himself following his attempt to oust Dr. Wiley, Wilson approached President Taft in private and asked if he would be allowed to serve out his term and retire. Many hoped that Dr. Wiley might return and assume Wilson’s former position, now that his nemesis would be stepping down. But Dr. Wiley was very happy with his position of influence at Good Housekeeping, where he had a direct line of communication to the publication’s 400,000 readers and could provide thorough, useful information to the people he felt needed it the most. Wilson chose Dr. Carl J. Alsberg to replace Dr. Wiley and David Houston to replace Wilson himself. To the surprise of many, both new members of the USDA quickly immersed themselves in areas of scientific inquiry Dr. Wiley had previously undertaken, moving to further Dr. Wiley’s mission. Dr. Wiley continued to participate in activism and lobbying for pure food legislation into his 80s. He retired from Good Housekeeping at age 82 and began work a book which would be published the year before his death, titled The History of a Crime Against the Food Law. He wrote an autobiography but passed away before it reached publication. He was buried in the National Cemetery and honored with the epitaph “FATHER OF THE PURE FOOD LAW.” Regardless of the credit others may have tried to claim for the success of food regulations in the United States, there was no question in the minds of the public who was responsible for protecting them from unscrupulous manufacturers. On June 25th, 1938, the Division of Chemistry became its own entity, the Food and Drug Administration, which survives into the 21st century as Dr. Wiley’s greatest legacy.
Blum artfully uses the term “discovered” in quotations when she describes the weaselly manner in which Frederick Dunlap rooted through Dr. Wiley’s office in to dig up evidence to use against the chief chemist. The press jumped on Wilson, McCabe, and Dunlap’s hypocrisy in their attempt to oust Dr. Wiley for nefarious uses of funds, given the consistency of Dr. Wiley’s commitment to pure food law and public safety. Wilson severely underestimated the amount of loyalty that Dr. Wiley earned over his nearly 30 years of service at the USDA. Further, Wilson likely did not fully appreciate the public’s awareness of his one-sided rivalry with Dr. Wiley. It was apparent to everyone in the department, in the press, in politics, and in the public at large that this was just a sleazy attempt by Wilson’s cohort to undermine and rid themselves of Dr. Wiley, punishing him for failing to properly fall in line and remain under Wilson’s thumb.
Wilson was spending government money on misappropriations while at the same time denying Americans, whose taxes paid for Wiley’s studies, access to the doctor’s findings. The public saw Wilson’s continued efforts to sabotage Dr. Wiley as a grave injustice. The question of whether Wilson felt a measure of jealousy toward Dr. Wiley, though not posed by Blum, may warrant exploration.
Dr. Wiley counted himself the happiest he had ever been in his position at Good Housekeeping. With his wife Anna Kelton, he had two children and a home in the Blue Ridge Mountains, which likely contributed to his contentment, but he was also deeply fulfilled when he finally gained the opportunity to serve the public good by accessing a public audience directly. Dr. Wiley was also able to continue pursuing his passion for chemistry, as his publications at the magazine stemmed from the concrete data he gathered in the lab they provided for him. He derived great satisfaction from informing readers that any product they found within the pages of Good Housekeeping had been put through Dr. Wiley’s rigorous testing methods and was a safe choice for them to use in their household. Dr. Wiley had been deeply wounded by President Roosevelt’s attempt to erase his singular influence in the passage of the pure food law, and in his USDA detractors’ unceasing attempts to undermine his scientific findings, impugn his character, and run constant blockades against his efforts to enforce the law. When he died, however, he was granted the honor of being buried at the prestigious Arlington National Cemetery, and his headstone forever attests to his lasting, overwhelmingly positive impact on the health and safety of the American consumers, which continues long past his government service, reading “FATHER OF THE PURE FOOD LAW.”