Health and Temperance by M. C. W.

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Mar 18, 1889

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 15, No. 11.

Health and Temperance.

By M. C. W.

THE DELECTABLE SAUSAGE.

SAUSAGE was formerly, and is now among farmers, made almost exclusively of pork; and among those who use flesh meats indiscriminately, there are few who do not prefer this highly seasoned viand. But many do not eat pork. On the part of some, their condition of health will not permit; on the part of others, it is discarded from their dietary from principle, as being in the nature of the case unfit for food. They judge rightly. For this reason, its use was prohibited in the Jewish theocracy. But in the desires of many who have repudiated the swine, there still lurk earnest longings for the flesh-pots of Egypt. They remember the ham, and the spare-rib, and the sausage, and their souls loathe the vegetables, the fruits, the grains.

But sausage is not easily made; so a resort is had to the butcher shops, which now not only keep fresh meats, but "corned-beef," boiled corned-beef (we have forgotten the technical names), bologna, and hamburg sausages. "Made of good beef?" asks the customer. "Oh, yes; bought from a reliable dealer; and then we never keep only that which is good here," says the bland, ruddy-faced butcher. And the peppered and salted and saged and savory, delectable sausage is purchased, sent home, fried, eaten,—prolific seeds of indigestion and dyspepsia, providing that the ingredients which enter the wonderful composition are normal and healthy. But, O sausage-lover, pause a while to learn and meditate upon what the ingredients of that delicious dish of yours is composed.

For some time past the Examiner, of San Francisco, has been, metaphorically speaking, ventilating the butcher shops and slaughterhouses of that city; and for this we freely commend this enterprising journal. In its issue of February 19, it reveals, what many who have given the matter investigation have known for a long time, the kinds of meat used for sausages. We give a little of the testimony:—

"Inspector Crummey recently said: 'There are not nearly so many of these little calves coming into the city now as there were some months ago, as I have made a number of seizures, and the dealers are becoming a little wary. But while I am watching on the wharves for unhealthy meat, diseased dairy cows are coming in from other quarters. Meat is being sold in the butcher shops of the city which is really unfit for dogs to eat, rotten sausages are being manufactured, and the law against selling unhealthy meat violated in every quarter.'"

"'A great part of the diseased meat sold today is disposed of in the shape of sausages. Of course, after meat is chopped up there is no way of telling whether it is healthy or not without a microscopical examination, and so if condemned at all, it must be before it gets to the factory.'"

"One of the oldest butchers in San Francisco was interviewed by a reporter, and said: "I have been in the meat business in San Francisco since 1849, and therefore know something about it. The Examiner is right when it says that thousands of pounds of diseased meat are sold in San Francisco every day. I know this to be a fact from my own experience, both as a butcher and as a meat inspector. I have seen dozens of cattle in one drove in the corrals of Butchertown with their heads swelled entirely out of shape from "big jaw." I have seen the same kind of cattle, in fact, cattle from the same band, dressed and hung in the slaughter-house for sale. They are sold to whoever will buy them—often to men who think they are perfectly healthy. But an experienced butcher can tell every time whether they are diseased or not from the general appearance of the carcass more than any peculiar manifestation of the disease."

"'Hundreds of cattle, killed during transportation and trampled and bruised by the other cattle, until they are a lacerated and bleeding mass, are taken from the cars, hauled in wagons to Butchertown, where they are dressed and sold. Their destination then depends altogether upon their appearance. If in fair condition, they are bought by retailers and contractors; but if badly bruised or decomposed they are taken to the sausage factories. These places are filled with the worst quality of meat.'"

"'All of the refuse from butcher shops and slaughter-houses, all of the diseased meat which cannot be otherwise disposed of, and, in fact, everything that has the appearance of meat, is bought by the sausage factories. Here it is dragged around upon the dirty floor or in filthy boxes, chopped up in machines which are never cleaned, stuffed into casings which were never cleaned, smoked in the filthiest vapors, polished up with the greasiest and dirtiest kind of rags, and finally sold as something choice.'"

"'This isn't the worst of it, though. It is the class of cattle they kill that is so nefarious. They are the worst old dairy cattle that can be found, and are literally rotten with consumption. They are killed and then peddled around the city to retailers and sausage factories.'"

"'Enough diseased meat comes from Butchertown to poison the whole city, and much of it is sold in the best markets of San Francisco, and you needn't think the butchers are so green they don't know what they are selling. I was passing through one of the best markets in the city the other day, when I saw hanging on the hooks, exposed for sale, what the butchers call a "stiff," that is, the carcass of an animal which was never butchered, but which died a natural death. Any butcher can tell these as far as he can see them. I remarked to the proprietor of the place, "That is a stiff there." He answered, "Yes, but I ain't going to cut it up." But I would be willing to wager all I possess that it was cut up just the same, and, furthermore, sold to some of the best families in the city.'"

Those whose appetite is strong and whose will is weak, whose fastidiousness is only shocked at what they absolutely see and know, will, in spite of this revelation, continue, we suppose, to partake of the bruised, diseased, putrid-meat sausages, bologna or otherwise; but he who regards life and health and the eternal fitness of things will dispense forever in wish or act with the abominable food. After all, who could desire more than nature has provided in this climate in vegetables, grains, fruit, milk, and eggs, without the taking of life.