Surgery

There seems to be a marked agreement on what the world's oldest profession is. The next oldest may possibly be surgery. For when primitive men opened the skulls of demented comrades to release evil spirits--that was surgery. The history of the craft is long. It was recorded in the wall scratchings of cave dwellers and in ancient writings in every language, but few great artists have portrayed it pictorially.

In the twenties, Davis and Geck, the world's largest producers of surgical sutures, determined to fill this gap by commissioning a series of photographs depicting the mile-stones in the history of surgery. The man they picked for the job was Lejaren 'a Hiller. He began shooting the series in 1924 and is still working on it--adding three or four new pictures each year.

The collection is remarkable for its authenticity. Few drawings of early operations exist and Hiller has been forced to do considerable research for each new photograph. Costumes, instruments and surgical methods are all selected with the utmost care; Hiller chooses models for their facial resemblance to the historical characters they are meant to represent, and to get the best models he often picks people off the street.

The series is no more remarkable than the man who has created it. Lejaren 'a Hiller is a self-styled genius who has spent most of his life illustrating with the camera.

He works in his Underwood and Underwood studio half the year, accepting whatever jobs most interest him, and spends the other half traveling 'round the world. The Hiller house is filled with souvenirs of his journeys--including a mummy's head on the mantle.

"I bought the mummy near the Great Pyramid," Hiller explains, "--Cheop's place. Paid about ten cents for it.

I wanted to smuggle the whole thing out, but I knew I'd never get away with it. So I just wrenched the head off and stuck it in my bag."

Hiller recalls one experience in his career that fairly well illustrates the sort of unbelievable life he has led. He was sent down to Greenwich Village to photograph a man for an advertising testimonial. The man absolutely refused to have his picture taken, but since Hiller had come all that way for nothing, the man invited him in for a couple of drinks. After the couple, they had a couple more, and a couple more after that. The alcohol made them chummy and the man suggested they throw a party.

"Why not," said Hiller. "You call your friends and I'll call mine."

They had a party.

Hiller's next recollection was noon the following day. He got to his feet, found his hat and coat, the door, and a taxicab. The cab took him home.

In his apartment, he headed for the shower. Under the cool current, he thought of his hat, and removed it. This reminded him of his clothes, so he stepped out of the shower. Undressed, he glanced in the mirror and was surprised to note writing across his bare chest. He tried to read it, but it appeared backwards in the mirror and he was too tired to try and figure it out. He'd just crawled into bed when the phone rang. It was a friend from the party with some rather startling news. Their late host had put a gun in his mouth, after the party, and blown his head off. Returning from the phone, Hiller again thought of the writing on his chest. With the help of a second mirror to correct the reversed image in the first, he was able to read: "I hereby bequeath all my worldly possessions..." Hiller stopped reading. It was the last will and testament of the guy who'd blown his brains out--scrawled across Hiller's chest.

Though Hiller has tackled a great many unusual picture assignments in his lifetime, he is best known for his photographic history of surgery. It has won him a number of awards and world wide recognition. In the thirty years since its conception, no major error has been detected in the work. Some admirers, however, have questioned the master about the lack of clothing on his women models compared to the men, while undergoing similar operations. They point particularly to the famous plague scene, where all the male victims are fully clothed and all the females are nude. To such questions, Hiller only smiles and says, "I prefer them that way."

Hiller's recreation of a successful hysterectomy described by Giovanni Croce, a Venetian surgeon of the 16th Century. Three assistants held the writhing patient throughout the operation.

The first complete Caesarean on record was performed in 1610 by Jeremias Trautmann of Wittenberg. The mother clutched the sheets in agony, but later said the pain was not excessive. Assistant held her head and hand.

Above, left: South American natives used large Sauba ants for closing wounds. The ant was permitted to bite through the edges of wound and, since its jaws retained their grip after death, the body was then pinched off. A row of these ant heads formed a natural skin clip.

Above, center: Convicted thieves lost their hands in the 16th Century; Bartolommeo Maggi learned much about amputation by crudely suturing their bloody stumps.

Above, right: This Norse warrior demonstrates the characteristic hardiness which enabled early races to survive crude surgical practices. Receiving a severe abdominal wound in battle, he thrust his entrails back inside and continued fighting. Later his sister sewed him up with shoemaker's thread, and he recovered.

On facing page: Hiller's most famous photograph depicts victims of the bubonic plague being carried through the streets; plague killed 25,000,000 in the Middle Ages.

Ambroise Pare (top) rose from humble origins to become surgeon to four kings of France. Famed as a humanitarian as well as a surgeon, he did much to reduce the pain and hazards of surgery.

Lanfranchi (below) was first to differentiate between carcinoma and hypertrophy of breast. His straightforward lecturing style attracted students by the hundreds.

Philip Physick developed early absorbable sutures from leather; later catgut was found superior.