“The Pill” Pushers

This week (May 9) in 1960, the Food and Drug Administration approved Enovid-10, the world’s first commercially produced birth control pill.  This is the very short story of the four very different people who made it happen.

Margaret Sanger was one of 11 children. Her father was a radical Irishman whose sexual appetite Margaret blamed for the early death of her mother.  Thus did the idea of giving women more reproductive freedom come to Sanger early, and it was certainly reinforced when she moved to New York City and saw so many poor women, saddled with children they could not support, living hopeless, squalid lives.  Sanger became the driving force behind creating a convenient, readily available contraceptive for women.

Katherine McCormick became the financier. A wealthy blue-blood who had married Stanley McCormick — his father founded International Harvester — she became involved with Planned Parenthood, where she met and befriended Margaret Sanger. She promised to financially support any research designed to develop an oral contraceptive.

That research was conducted by Gregory “Goody” Pincus, the son of Russian Jews who immigrated to America.   A child genius, he majored in biology at Cornell University before teaching at Harvard, where his research won Harvard worldwide acclaim.  Denied tenure because he was a maverick, but also because he was a Jew, Pincus went to Clark University in Massachusetts, where he became the leader of a group of independent biochemists doing experimental work in animal reproduction.  Learning of his work, Sanger challenged him to develop an oral contraceptive and McCormick promised him funding.

Pincus believed that he could prevent conception by chemically imitating the hormonal condition that occurs during pregnancy when the body naturally blocks ovulation, and in lab experiments the work went surprisingly well—so well that Pincus realized he needed to recruit a medical doctor to join the team. Laboratory research was one thing. Applying it to real people was another.

Dr. John Rock of Harvard Medical School was to Goody Pincus as night was to day. Tall, charming, handsome, and devoutly Catholic, Rock’s original reproductive goals were the exact opposite of Pincus’.  A gynecologist, he hoped to cure infertility in women.

But Rock became increasingly flexible on birth control and his real-world applications of Pincus’ laboratory achievements were the final piece of the puzzle.  In tests on poor women in Puerto Rico and Haiti, “the pill,” as it was called, was a total success.

And so, one of the most life-altering phenomenon of the 20th century was started by two women — one a radical Irish atheist, the other a wealthy Protestant socialite — and two men — one a short, homely, Jewish lab rat, the other a tall, handsome Catholic physician.

Only in America.

The Long, Lost, Last Constitutional Amendment

Our very last constitutional amendment — the 27th Amendment — was ratified this week (May 7) in 1992 when Michigan became the 38th state to approve it. Call it the long, lost, last amendment because it was originally proposed 203 years earlier, in 1789, when it was among the original 12 amendments Congress sent to the states for ratification.  The states subsequently approved 10 amendments, which became our Bill of Rights.

The two amendments that the states failed to approve were actually the first two proposed by Congress. The proposed First Amendment dealt with how to determine the size of the House of Representatives. The proposed Second Amendment — now our 27th — prohibited Congress from voting itself a pay raise without an intervening election.

How an amendment that had been forgotten for 200 years finally became the law of the land is a fascinating story that begins with Gregory Watson, a student at the University of Texas, who was looking for a topic to write a paper on and stumbled across the un-ratified congressional compensation amendment.  He found that of the 11 states needed for ratification in 1789, six had already done so, and in 1873 Ohio had joined them, angered by Congress’s huge retroactive pay increase of that year.

Intrigued, Watson wrote a paper on the amendment’s history that included an analysis of how to get this long-dead amendment ratified.  His teacher, Sharon Waite, was unimpressed and gave him a “C” on the paper, but Watson still believed his cause had merit and so he began writing petitions to state legislatures, arguing his case. Astonishingly, the state of Maine bought his argument in 1983 and Colorado followed suit in 1984.

That caught the attention of state officials in Wyoming, who announced that their state too had previously ratified this amendment — in 1977 — also as a protest against a previous congressional pay raise.

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Quote of the Week

I am not an atheist.  The problem involved is too vast for our limited minds.  We are in the position of a little child entering a huge library filled with books in many languages.  The child knows someone must have written those books.  It does not know how.  It does not understand the languages in which they are written.  The child dimly suspects a mysterious order in the arrangement of the books but doesn’t know what it is.  That, it seems to me, is the attitude of even the most intelligent human being toward God.  We see the universe marvelously arranged and obeying certain laws, but only dimly understand those laws.”  – Albert Einstein