#max thorek

[weirdlookindog]

Max Thorek (1880–1960) - Despair, 1936

[moradadabeleza]

Max Thorek (1880–1960)

Despair

1936.

[henk-heijmans]

"Danzarina Exotica” Kyra (a.k.a. Belle Lopatin, Chicago), 1936's - by Max Thorek (1880 - 1960), Hungarian/American

[mariaangels]

Max Thorek

[gacougnol]

Max Thorek

Salome

1930

[othmeralia]

Max Thorek (1880-1960) was a Hungarian-American surgeon who founded the International College of Surgeons in Geneva in 1935. You can read more about Dr. Thorek’s life and achievements on the website for the International College of Surgeons: Our Founder - Dr. Max Thorek.

A copy of his autobiography, A Surgeon’s World (1943), was recently donated to our library.

[fleuromanie]

Max Thorek, Désespoir

[semioticapocalypse]

Max Thorek. Harnessing the Unseen, circa 1930s.

[::SemAp Twitter || SemAp::]

[ein-bleistift-und-radiergummi]

Dr. Max Thorek ‘Stairway’ 1940.

(via vivien3226)

[thisobscuredesireforbeauty]

Max Thorek: Byzantium (1935). Source

[deadinchicago]

11 October - On the Run, Part 1

We like to think that in Chicago we’re fairly safe from wild animals, especially today. There are coyotes, but they generally stay to themselves, living in parks and cemeteries. There’s also stories here and there about escaped animals that eventually become part of the Chicago backdrop, like the bright green Monk Parakeets of Hyde Park, now a welcome sign of spring in the neighborhood. While you might not expect to see these on a day to day basis, you wouldn’t necessarily be surprised if you saw one. Not like if you, say, found a bear in your living room.

That’s exactly what happened at the M.G. McGuire home in 1893. A brown bear, a new acquisition to Lincoln Park Zoo, had somehow escaped. He’d only been in his new location for a few weeks, but had refused to eat that entire time and didn’t get along with the other bears. It’s not stated how he was able to leave his confines, but leave he did. He ambled through the park until he got to the McGuire home a few blocks away, where he smashed his way through the front windows and into the parlor.

There, the bear made a general mess of things for a few minutes until the family dared to look to see what in the world the noise was. Upon seeing a bear eating preserves in her parlor, Mrs. McGuire immediately screamed, bringing Mr. McGuire into the room. McGuire comforted his wife and then called for his bull dog to attend to the bear. In moments, the bear and the dog were in a massive fight while McGuire acted as a cheerleader on the side, yelling encouragement to his dog.

Out of nowhere, a St. Bernard then leapt through the broken window to join the fight momentarily, but was soon gravely injured by the bear. The Bernard immediately ran away, knowing when he’d been licked.

Meanwhile, the dog and the bear kept fighting, McGuire poking the bear with a pitchfork to no effect. The tussle soon found its way outdoors, with the bear leaving the fight and climbing a tree. The dog barked up the tree at it while McGuire and his son stood guard between the house and the tree, armed with a pitchfork and an ax. The police, having been notified likely by one of the many neighbors watching in fascinated horror, soon showed up. The bear then descended from the tree and made for the house again, with McGuire and son trying to chase him away. Cornered between the house and the bear, the men opened up the back door. A policeman stood there with his gun pointed at the bear — but as soon as the cop saw the bear he dropped his gun and ran away. The McGuires hit it with a frying pan, the bear hit back, and eventually it left their residence, headed up the road.

Many people gave chase to the bear, who soon met his end. Though he did not enter another home, he did seem to think about it. A braver policeman managed to lasso it around the neck, though he did not weigh enough to actually stop the bear and was soon dragged along (and on top) of it. Eventually, more people grabbed onto the rope and the poor creature was strangled to death. (The bear was then to be skinned with the fur to be given to the McGuire family for their ordeal).

In 1923, it was noted that Dr. Max Thorek had lost a monkey. He’d imported several of the animals, all born in the wild, and kept at the basement of the American Hospital in the Uptown neighborhood. One managed to escape while they were being taken upstairs to get some air, and immediately the police (and about 5,000 people in the neighborhood) chased after it. The monkey found its way to the top of the bell tower of the St. Mary of the Lake church. The cops ran inside to roust the animal from its high hiding spot, but the priest stated that the wild animal deserved sanctuary and refused to let the cops enter. It was left alone and soon moved along.

What might be stranger about that story is exactly why Dr. Max Thorek had recently purchased wild monkeys to keep at a hospital. He likely intended to use them for their glands; in the 1920s several doctors were holding to the (incredibly faulty) theory that inserting monkey glands into human patients could help fight aging and increase libido. Dr. Thorek had announced in 1920 that he was going to study the procedure until the doctor who perfected it and would install a laboratory on the subject at the American Hospital.

Tomorrow we’ll continue tales of escaped beasts in Chicago, including more monkeys and even a hyena.

Happy October 11th, and don’t let anyone graft monkey glands to you.

[disceautdiscede]

[Serge] Voronoff's operations [in which monkey testes were grafted onto humans] were soon mimicked in America. Max Thorek, the esteemed physician...spent much of the 1920s supplying his patients with slices of monkey testes. He had a small zoo built on the roof of a Chicago hospital to house his donors. One Sunday morning the monkeys escaped, gathering minutes later, for no known reason, at a nearby Catholic church. In his memoirs Thorek declined to describe in print "the sacrilegious actions" of those beasts, witnessed by a packed house of shocked congregants.

David M. Friedman, from A Mind of Its Own: A Cultural History of the Penis

[henk-heijmans]

Odalisque, ca. 1937 - by Max Thorek (1880 - 1960), Hungarian/American

[ein-bleistift-und-radiergummi]

Max Thorek ‘Stairway’ 1930s.

(Source: howardgreenberg.com)

[henk-heijmans]

Judith, ca. 1940 - by Max Thorek (1880 - 1960), Hungarian/American