The Making and Remaking of the Philadelphia Lazaretto
Adaptive reuse is about reshaping the original vision architects had for space in order to keep it relevant for the future. Our love for history is one of the reasons why we’re so passionate about adaptive reuse, and it’s why we greatly enjoy learning about the history of any building with a fascinating past that will be updated.
Recently, we ran across the exciting story of one of the Philadelphia area’s most fascinating structures, the Philadelphia Lazaretto. It is currently in the process of renewal and will soon make its triumphant return as a museum, office building, and community space in Essington, right next to the Philadelphia International Airport.
The story begins before the founding of Ellis Island or Angel Island – before even the founding of our nation….
The Founding of the Original Lazaretto
Philadelphia has always been a popular place and the Delaware Port has been bustling with activity since the 1700s. However, when trade at the port started bringing more into the city than simply merchandise and visitors, the city established a quarantine center now known as the “Old Lazaretto.”
The original Lazaretto, erected in 1743 at a point southwest of where the Schuylkill and Delaware Rivers meet, was named after St. Lazarus, the patron saint of lepers. “Lazaretto” was a traditional name for maritime quarantines, beginning with the world’s first lazarettos built in the 14th century. The Old Lazaretto served the town well for many years, but once immigration increased at the nation’s first capital city, the Old Lazaretto started to fall behind on its ability to contain disease and illness.
By 1793, the Old Lazaretto was unable to keep up as the Yellow Fever Epidemic killed 4,000-5,000 (approximately one-tenth) of the city’s residents within barely 2 months. Unfortunately, yellow fever returned no less than three more times in the late 1790s, causing government officials to flee the city while simultaneously establishing a Board of Health (the nation’s first), which had the ability to levy taxes for the public health.
The first order of business for the Board of Health was to secure land and build a new Lazaretto… one that was significantly further away from the city’s borders.
Building a New Lazaretto
By June 20, 1799, the Board of Health had found the site of their new quarantine center. The spot was a 10-acre plot, 10 miles south of the city’s borders in Tinicum Township (currently Essington, right near the airport).
The land was considered perfect for the healing of new arrivals to the area, with a cooling, breezy climate, shaded areas, and naturally dry soil. It was deemed to offer a “pleasing subject for contemplation” for convalescing invalids (we couldn’t resist copying the old-fashioned printer’s style), and the Board of Health had high hopes for the new location, stating, “It is hoped that, under God, by the faithful execution of the health law, Philadelphia will be secure from the yellow fever…”.
Now known as the Philadelphia Lazaretto, the facility was built between 1799 and 1801, and featured multiple, beautifully designed buildings that could accommodate up to 500 patients at one time.
The main building, which is currently undergoing a renewal project, contained 16 rooms and served as a residence for the steward, as well as offices, committee rooms, and ward rooms. In addition, the building also had two wings with six rooms each, built solely as wards.
Near the main building, two identical, elegant buildings housed the Lazaretto Physician and the Quarantine Master (and their families). An article in the Public Ledger from 1879 also describes the property’s “dead-house,” a small, brick building filled with furnaces and dead bodies that, “with its ornamental porch and white columns looks quite attractive.”
Quarantine Procedures - Daily Life at the Philadelphia Lazaretto
The Public Ledger article also gives us insight into what life was like at the Lazaretto while it was running. In essence, the warm weather months from June 1 - Oct 1 of each year were known as “quarantine season,” during which time all ships bound for Philadelphia had to submit to a thorough inspection by the Lazaretto Physician and the Quarantine Master.
In order to comply with quarantine regulations, the Lazaretto employed a watchman who would keep a telescope lookout from sunrise to sunset, ringing a large bell when incoming ships were spotted. The arriving ships would bank their steam to slow their progress as soon as they saw the yellow quarantine flag with a painted black “Q” – which was the only sign that the impressive building and grounds were a government building, as opposed to the home of a wealthy country gentleman. The ships would also signal the Lazaretto by displaying a flag on the foremast with the “lower part of the folds bunched up.”
Here’s what the inspection process looked like:
- At the sound of the bell, a small tug manned by a six-person crew would set off for the Physician’s and Quarantine Master’s houses, where the Physician and the Quarantine Master would be ready to jump into the boat immediately.
- The tug would speed down the channel to meet the arriving ship, where they would call all crew on deck and perform a careful inspection of all crew members, in order to identify signs of illness. (If crew members were known to be sick, they were allowed to stay below decks and the Physician would examine them down there.)
- During examinations, the captain filled out a detailed questionnaire about voyage, cargo, and the health of his crew, swearing legally that his answers were true and correct. (He would be fined $500 if his answers were found to be falsified.)
- The bilge water would be flushed from the ship until the ship’s water was 100% pure, and ship areas would be ventilated, fumigated, and sterilized as needed.
- If the ship was found to be free of illness, the captain would be sent on his way, with a requirement to provide his certification from the Lazaretto Physician to the Board of Health within 24 hours of his arrival.
- If signs of infection were found, the ship or certain passengers or crew members would be detained, while “non-infectious goods” were sent along to the city. These goods included “salt, sugar, lime, rum, spirits, molasses, mahogany, manufactured tobacco, dye woods, and preserved fruit,” all of which would be cleared for immediate import into the city, no matter how long the ship or its crew members were detained. Other goods, as well as baggage and clothing, would be sterilized, fumigated, and sometimes placed in long-term storage in the quarantine warehouse. Really scary stuff would be burned in the furnace that was enclosed in the dead-house.
- Sterilization, general cleaning, and fumigation would often be performed by the steward, who received a payment of 37 ½ cents per dozen articles that he attended to.
- Quarantine hospitalization cost 75 cents per day and funeral costs were $3 for those unlucky enough to die from their diseases.
All incoming vessels were carefully inspected, including merchant ships and warships, but none were so carefully inspected as those coming from the Mediterranean because that area was known as a hotbed for plague during the 1800s.
The Philadelphia Lazaretto Wasn’t Perfect
Though this system was well ordered and exacting, the Lazaretto wasn’t always able to provide a perfect quarantine environment. One harrowing tale from August 1870 describes the experience of a visiting physician, William B. Ulrich, MD, who was disturbed by the fact that the Lazaretto Physician, Quarantine Master, and Board of Health were seemingly unable to identify and protect the public from yellow fever.
According to a letter to the editor from Dr. Ulrich, the Lazaretto Physician and the Quarantine Master were both struck by the disease, and, even more disturbingly, local townspeople in Tinicum were also falling ill and dying from yellow fever that had escaped the confines of the Lazaretto’s grounds. The epidemic had a 75% mortality rate, which was unheard of even at that time.
Dr. Ulrich vividly described an experience in which he tried to alert the Board of Health of the danger near the quarantine zone, yet Board members refused to grant him audience because they “did not like to be dictated to by an outsider.” According to Ulrich, the Board was also unable to identify the signs and symptoms of yellow fever, and they neglected to provide nurses for the institution’s ill staff members. They also neglected to provide ice or “the many other things necessary in such cases.”
Perhaps this could all be considered a tempest in a teapot, except that almost exactly one month after Dr. Ulrich made his report, another letter to the editor reached the public, extolling the actions of one Mrs. Mary Riddle, who:
… lost a friend with the yellow fever, which has been so fatal at the Lazaretto. Upon visiting that place to attend the funeral of her friend, she found the place to be in the greatest confusion. The resident physician was dead, the subordinates were all utterly demoralized and in a state of anarchy and rebellion against the improvised authorities. This lady (a widow) had an aged mother and little children; yet, with a self devotion and humanity rarely emulated… she resolved to remain there and… bring order out of chaos. This she did… and then returned to her home and her family, bearing the seeds of that most terrible disease. [emphasis ours]
Thankfully, Mrs. Riddle recovered, and she was thereafter known as the “Heroine” of the Lazaretto.
The Beginning of the End for the Lazaretto
Though the hospital clearly pulled through the yellow fever epidemic of 1870 and also (mostly) survived a cholera epidemic in 1892, the Lazaretto’s mismanagement and draconian bureaucratic policies spelled the beginning of the end for the institution by 1893. At that time, a local paper quoted Dr. Henry Leffmann in a rather long, protracted rant about the Philadelphia Lazaretto, in which he attacked the quarantine center’s “antique methods of business” including a costly and unnecessary daily messenger, useless reports and forms that led to ridiculous busy work, and the upside-down management of the place in which a state-appointed physician and quarantine master were overseen by a city-run Board of Health.
Dr. Leffmann’s impassioned presentation seems to have made an impact because the state took control of the property that same year. Within two more years, the Philadelphia Lazaretto was closed down and most screening activities were moved to the nearby National Quarantine Station.
It may have been the end for the Lazaretto’s quarantine activities, but the building itself remained useful for more than 100 more years.
- In 1898, the main building reopened as “The Orchard,” a summer location for the Athletic Club of Philadelphia, with an opening bash for 700 of the city’s elite that featured a massive luncheon, fireworks, and a fun baseball game that was ended early, so that the group could all sing the Star-Spangled Banner.
- In 1915, the grounds and buildings were turned into the nation’s first seaplane base (they called them “flying boats” at the time), which offered free flight lessons to college students who agreed to volunteer if the country entered the war raging in Europe.
- In 1917, when America entered WWI, the site was transformed into an Army induction and training ground, and was renamed Chambers Field.
- After the war, the building reverted to civilian control and continued to operate as a flight school, marina, and repair shop until 2000, when it was sold to a developer who planned to turn the site into an airport parking lot. The city contested the sale, purchased a portion of the site for preservation purposes, and, in 2016, confirmed that it would be renewing the space and opening back up soon.
With this news, the fascinating, historic building — the site that some estimates claim was the first sight of the New World for ancestors of 1 out of every 3 Americans today — would be guaranteed an opportunity to live on with a new identity and a new life.
The Philadelphia Lazaretto should continue to make history for many more years.
Our sincere congratulations to the Tinicum Township for their ongoing renewal of the Philadelphia Lazaretto. We hope the project inspires a generation of historians and architects who will, like your Lazaretto, take their place in history.
Read more inspiring articles, get the latest industry news and updates, and keep your eye on new and exciting adaptive reuse projects when you subscribe to the Milrose Insights blog.
