Medicine: Poxy Dancer

Young & lithe enough to be worth a dime of any man's dance money, Helen Abney, 1 8, taxi-danced three January nights running in a thronged Detroit hall until she was ready to drop. When she could not raise her head from her pillow one morning, she thought she was just tired. When chills & fever racked her and her bones ached, she thought she had grippe. A rash breaking out on her face suggested scarlet fever or chickenpox. When the red spots became elevated and exuded pus, there remained no doubt that dancing...

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