THE LAST WORD

DID YOU KNOW?

Glimmering guilt and the betrayal of the Radium Girls

Dusk falls over Ottawa, Illinois. In the gloaming, light streams out from the windows of businesses clustered on Main Street. In the clock face factories, women are hunched over workbenches, their faces illuminated by an ethereal, otherworldly gleam. Above them sway the bulbs of electric lights, but the ghostly hue comes from little pots of strangely glowing paint. 

These are the Radium Girls, artists of the atomic age, tasked with painting the hands and numerals on watches with a luminous compound. Even in the darkest of nights, this seemingly magic substance was bright and iridescent. To begin with, the positions were prized - it was well paid work and not as physically demanding as many other jobs. Little did they know, the very element that lent their work its captivating sheen would soon begin to devour them from within. 

The power of radium

Radium, discovered by Marie and Pierre Curie, was a wonder of the early 20th century. Its seemingly miraculous properties – its perpetual glow, its purported medicinal benefits – had captured the public imagination. It was a symbol of progress, of the boundless potential of science. This intoxicating allure blinded many, particularly those in positions of power, to the darker truths that were beginning to emerge.

The process of painting the dials was deceptively simple but ultimately lethal. To achieve the fine detail required, the women were instructed to “lip-point” their brushes. This involved placing the brush tip between their lips to create a sharp point. As they did this, they unknowingly ingested tiny amounts of radium with each stroke. They were even encouraged to lick their brushes to ensure a smooth application. 

The managers, and indeed the scientists who formulated the paint, knew the substance was radioactive, yet this crucial information was deliberately withheld from the workers. The prevailing attitude, it seems, was one of expediency and profit, a chilling calculus that prioritized production over the well-being of their employees.   

A deadly occupation

As the years passed, a sinister pattern began to emerge. The Radium Girls started to suffer from a host of horrifying ailments. Their jaws would ache, teeth would loosen and fall out, and eventually, their bones would become brittle and riddled with holes. Some developed large tumors, their bodies slowly succumbing to the relentless radiation poisoning. They went from being vibrant young women to shadows of their former selves, their luminescence now a macabre reminder of the poison that was consuming them.   

The response from the companies, notably the United States Radium Corporation, was a masterclass in unethical behaviour. When the women began to complain of their ailments, their concerns were dismissed as hysteria or attributed to other causes. The company’s own scientists, some of whom had conducted internal studies revealing the dangers of radium exposure, actively participated in the cover-up. They produced misleading reports, downplaying the risks and even publicly denouncing the women’s claims. This was not mere ignorance; it was a deliberate and calculated act of deception, a profound betrayal of the scientific principles they were sworn to uphold.   

The managers and owners of these corporations were equally culpable. Driven by the insatiable pursuit of profit, they fostered a culture of denial and actively suppressed any evidence that linked radium to the workers’ illnesses. They refused to implement even basic safety precautions, such as providing protective gear or proper ventilation. Their silence in the face of mounting evidence of suffering was not just negligent; it was a morally reprehensible act of indifference. They saw the women not as human beings deserving of care and protection, but as cogs in a machine churning out profit. 

Litigation of the living dead

The fight for justice was long and arduous, led by a handful of courageous women who refused to be silenced. Their legal battles, though often fraught with setbacks, eventually brought the truth to light and paved the way for landmark industrial and labour safety regulations. 

A settlement for each of the Radium Girls was reached in autumn 1928 - a lump sum of $10,000 (roughly equivalent to $183,000 in today’s terms) and a $600 per year annuity (roughly equivalent to $11,000 today) paid at a rate of $12 per week for the rest of their lives. All medical and legal expenses incurred would also be paid by the company. Tragically, many of the women would not live long enough to benefit from this victory.

The luminous glow of radium, once a symbol of progress, became forever associated with the darkness of corporate greed and the devastating consequences of ethical failure. The story of the Radium Girls is not just a historical footnote; it is a timeless lesson in the enduring importance of professional responsibility and the catastrophic price of its abandonment. Their suffering, etched in the very bones that glowed with a fatal light, continues to demonstrate the importance of ethics in all walks of life.