Another Kind of Microscopic Menace

Viruses aren’t the only microscopic menaces that have shaped Richmond history.

Few people know that this city lies atop one of the most diverse diatom deposits in the world.  Diatoms are single-cellular aquatic plants that have been fossilized—quite beautifully—within their silica walls.  The diatoms pictured are leftover from the era 5 million years ago, when Richmond lay under a shallow sea.

Our diatom deposits first gained attention through the efforts of the Richmond Microscopical Society, founded in 1880 by local microscope hobbyists. They had been aware of diatoms in the soil here, although it was not until the C&O Railroad attempted to dig a tunnel downtown in the 1890s that the sheer diversity of Richmond’s diatoms became clear.

Slide of diatoms taken by Thomas Christian, 1885, X.61.35.10, The Valentine 

Thomas Christian, one of the founding members of the society, lived near the project dig beneath 8th Street. He and his daughter would venture into the construction zone every evening to take samples of the day’s excavated earth.  He spent much of his time arranging different species of diatoms into beautiful and elaborate slides, such as the one pictured above.

Soon, his findings attracted the attention of the Smithsonian and the world.  The futile digging of the 8th Street tunnel soon became a national joke, as the slippery earth repeatedly caved in. Diatomaceous earth—earth rich in diatoms—is very unstable. Eventually, the railroad had to abandon the project, though the lessons of Richmond’s diatom-rich soil were quickly forgotten, with tragic results. When C&O attempted to repair the Church Hill Tunnel in 1925, the famous cave-in that entombed a work engine and at least three workers was due to the diatom-rich clay.

 

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Hygiene and Richmond’s Public Baths

Historically speaking, good hygiene is a relatively new concept for Richmonders.

At a time when washing our hands is our best bet at defeating a pandemic, let’s remember that for most of this city’s history, for many of its citizens, such a simple act was not easy. Until 1950, a large number of homes in the Richmond area did not have the luxury of indoor plumbing.  Of course, lack of access to clean water for both drinking and washing has been the source of many outbreaks here: from cholera to polio.

Branch Public Baths exterior, 709 W. Main Street, Early-20th century Cook Collection, The Valentine

But in 1909, a local banker and philanthropist named John P. Branch drastically improved public health when he opened the city’s first public bath. He built the facility, then deeded it to the city, with the stipulation that the city reserve $3,000 a year to operate it.  The city knew a good deal when it saw one and accepted. A brick building that still stands at 1801 East Broad Street, Branch Public Bath #1 used coal-fired boilers to provide hot water for showers and tubs on the second floor.

These grew so popular that, four years later, Branch built the more beautiful Branch Bath #2 at 709 West Main Street.  At each, any white Richmonder (like so many other amenities in the city, the public baths were segregated) could pay 10 cents to receive a bar of soap and a sterilized towel.

Branch Public Baths interior, 709 W. Main Street, Early-20th century Cook Collection, The Valentine

Admission for children was 3 cents. Men were allowed 20 minutes in the showers, women 30 minutes, though these rules were obviously, largely unenforceable. At the peak of their popularity in the 1920s, public baths served over 80,000 Richmonders a year.  Winter was the most popular bath season.  During the spring and summer months, many still preferred to bathe in creeks and lakes.

The Branch baths remained in operation until 1950, when patronage plummeted following the rise of indoor plumbing.

As public health officials continue to remind us to wash our hands, this history is a fascinating exploration of how basic hygiene was once a thriving business in Richmond.

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