Spotlight On:
History Corner: Tales from a Jag-House
By William L. White
The affluent alcoholic has always had institutions that
catered to his or her needs for periodic detoxification and physical and
emotional renewal. When inebriate homes, inebriate asylums and addiction cure
institutes collapsed in the opening decades of the 20th century, a new social
institution quietly emerged on the American landscape. This new institution was
the small, local “drying out” facility that offered discrete care for the
affluent alcoholic. These sanatoria and rest homes became known as “dip shops”
(a derivative of dipsomania -- a medical term for the binge drinking pattern of
alcoholism), “jitter-joints,” “Jag-farms,” or “jag-houses.” Operating invisibly
throughout the United States
during the first half of the 20th century, their presence is revealed primarily
via brief references in the autobiographies of American alcoholics. There is
one published work, however, that provides a clearer window into the inner
operations of the early 20th century jag-house. In 1909, a most unusual book
was published. Authored by C. and J.A. Jones, the book was entitled, Opisthophorus: Or, The Man Who Walked
Backwards. The purpose of the book was to better understand “the sufferings
and temptations of a drunkard” as well as the
“possibilities of his redemption.” It pursues this goal by describing
the experiences of “men of fine capabilities who when sober, are often the most
refined of gentlemen” during their stay in a jag-house. Jones’ book provides a
unique portrayal of the workings of one such institution.
Two physicians are at the center of Jones’ tale: a Dr. Coin
who is personally transported by a friendly judge to Ohio where the doctor is to be treated for
his alcoholism by a Dr. Car. The jag-house to which Dr. Coin is taken is a
large home encircled with shade trees within which a handful of men are in
varying stages of recovery from alcoholism. The house itself consists of
private bedrooms on the second floor with a clubhouse, library and kitchen on
the first floor. The home is administered by a middle-age couple and an
old-maid who served as a cook and who believed that most of the patients were
“drunken fools and not worth the powder and shot it would take to kill them.”
The medical and psychological care of the residents was provided by Dr. Car,
who made twice-daily visits to all the patients. The care consisted primarily
of tapered withdrawal via decreasing doses of whiskey, hypodermic injections of
undisclosed (but sedating) content, regular ingestion of medicinal tonics,
nourishing food, sober fellowship, and the motivational talks of Dr. Car. The
social attitudes toward alcoholism at the time are revealed in a letter Dr.
Coin receives from his father-in-law. The letter castigates Dr. Coin for
putting his faith in a quack doctor, admonishes him to be a man and control his
drinking, and warns him to not attempt reconciliation with his wife. Following many weeks of treatment, Dr. Coin
and his fellow patients are given a certificate of graduation, admonished to
remain forever abstinent from all forms of alcohol, and invited to return each
year for a reunion of all the former patients and their families. The book ends
with Dr. Coins’ joyous reunification with his family and his resolution to
never touch alcohol again. Dr. Coin’s tale was replicated by the thousands in
small homes and sanatoria across the country where well-to-do alcoholics sought
help outside of the hospitals that would not admit them in these years. The
Jones’ text illuminates the jag-house as a little known milestone in the
American treatment of alcoholism. But one mystery remains: What’s with this
strange title? Jones explains that OPISTHOPHORUS is an alcoholic disease
characterized by the inability to walk forward. Jones explains: “When the one so afflicted is
told to advance, he may use every effort to do so, but can only succeed in
going backward. He sees his shopmates and old acquaintances getting on
comfortably, but the poor fellow who is taken with Opisthophoria can never keep
up with them.” So the next time someone
asks you if you are recovering, you can proudly declare your status as a
recovering Opisthophoric.