For the archivist, preserving Pennsylvania Hospital’s history ‘never gets old’

A patient with tonsilitis in the 19th century would have to face the tonsil guillotine. The instrument’s blade would remove the infected tonsils in a sunlit surgical amphitheater. Some of these procedures were performed before the widespread use of anesthesia, meaning many patients became unconscious through rougher methods like copious amounts of liquor or a knock on the head.
“Medical history is complicated,” said Stacey Peeples, lead archivist and curator of Pennsylvania Hospital, the first chartered hospital in the nation. “But if we don’t talk about it, we don’t learn from it.”

The tonsil guillotine is back in the amphitheater in the historic Pine Building at Pennsylvania Hospital. This time, it’s on display as part of the building’s new museum—eight galleries meticulously curated by Peeples to celebrate the hospital’s 275th anniversary. It’s joined by other surgical tools like a scarificator—a device for collecting blood samples—and amputation kits. Although these items may not be for the faint of heart, Peeples has selected them “to give context to where you are.”

Peeples makes decisions like this every day. And she’s showcasing these and other fascinating artifacts to a wider public with the opening of the museum in 2026. Building on her decades of experience, she is telling the story of the nation’s first chartered hospital through a comprehensible curation of the archives’ colossal collection.

Peeples has a typical office—a desk with a computer, stacks of paperwork, and childhood drawings from her daughter, who is now in college, displayed on the wall. It just happens to be situated in the hospital’s archives in the upper level of the Pine Building. Peeples works each day surrounded by shelves packed with boxes of medical records dating back to the first patient in 1752, and board meeting notes penned by hospital co-founder Benjamin Franklin. They’re accompanied by rare books, fine art, historic furniture, and a curious assortment of artifacts, including a cast of a foot, a loom, and an antique surgical kit.

Every item in this collection, carefully catalogued both digitally and on paper, contributes to understanding the evolution of the hospital.

“We need to know where we came from, and what that looked like,” Peeples said.

Growing up, Peeples wanted nothing to do with hospitals, after a not-so-enjoyable summer as a candy striper. “There was a nursing shortage, and the experience was much more intense than I anticipated,” she said. Fascinated by her history classes, she thought about becoming a teacher to instill that same enthusiasm for “all things old” in future generations. But teaching in front of a classroom, she felt, was not for her.

The irony? Peeples has been educating people for 25 years, teaching them about Pennsylvania Hospital’s history.

She has often done so while leading tours of the historic Pine Building, the hospital’s original building, for groups of students, colleagues, local conference attendees, and city tourists. And she does so with a flair that countless visitors have found captivating.

“All you have to do is talk to her for 10 minutes, and she’ll have so many fascinating stories to share,” said Pennsylvania Hospital CEO Alicia Gresham. “She can pull a story out of her pocket and make it engaging for any audience, from children to seniors.”

On tours, Peeples shares the lore of the Pine Building—how the historical library was at one point a maternity ward, and how the spaces that in recent years were conference rooms—and in 2026 are museum exhibit spaces—were, centuries ago, filled with rows of patient beds, where people were treated for ailments ranging from heat stroke and frostbite to tumors and gangrene. Middle school students typically enjoy hearing surgical stories when gathered in the amphitheater, Peeples observed—“The more disgusting, the more they think it’s cool.”

It’s these responses from visitors that Peeples finds rewarding, despite her initial resistance to being a teacher. “Their genuine reactions of ‘wow’—it never gets old,” she said. Visitors have returned years later for tours, some remarking that they remember Peeples from their elementary school field trips. “It makes you feel proud to see people’s excitement to be here.”

In addition, Peeples manages the upkeep of historical items, including coordinating conservation and repair of artifacts and of the Pine Building itself. She contributed to the Pine Building’s Conservation Management Plan—a guide for stewardship of the building and addressing any transformations for modern use.

“There is no typical day in the office,” said Peeples. “But that’s what I love.”

“Why are we keeping these?”

One of the hospital volunteers who help Peeples organize the archives, had asked, while sorting through old, tiny slips of paper. The items in question were late 18th century receipts for prosthetic purchases by patients who had undergone amputations.

“As soon as people need to use them, they will be valuable,” Peeples replied. And those receipts did prove valuable, when a scholar sought materials for her research on disabilities. It’s common for researchers to request Peeples’ assistance to find archival materials for their studies. “You don’t know what may be important in the future.”

Peeples understands the need to access collections, having been a researcher herself. Earning a bachelor’s and master’s degree in history at Rider University and American University, respectively, she was drawn to medical history, writing several papers on epidemics, like yellow fever.

When she became the archivist at Pennsylvania Hospital—while celebrations were underway for its 250th anniversary—she relied on the archives to learn about the hospital’s extensive history. She dusted off its boxes and cracked open the books. “I hit the ground running,” said Peeples. “But it was the best way for me to learn everything.”

A role like Peeples’ is rare to find. There are few hospital archivists in the country, one being at Harvard’s Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston. Other institutions may have a records management department to oversee documentation, or they may donate artifacts to museums.

At Pennsylvania Hospital, recordkeeping is part of the fabric of the institution. Since its founding, its staff have followed Quaker values—hence, the statue of notable Quaker William Penn outside of the Pine Building—which include belief in inclusive care for all individuals, with a high regard for detailed notetaking.

“It’s why we have such an amazing collection,” said Peeples. “We don’t get rid of anything.”

Physician Thomas Morton formally compiled the hospital’s notes, after stumbling on records during a period of construction, into a comprehensive book. He dedicated nearly 25 years of his life to organize this information into what Peeples refers to as “the bible of the hospital,” which details its founding in 1751 up to Morton’s contemporary time of 1895.

"There was a knowledge that these materials must be kept safe,” Peeples said.

The hospital’s history continues to unfold, as researchers present their own findings. One researcher recently informed Peeples that Pennsylvania Hospital had four privies (toilets), one on each corner of the grounds. Another found documents about an individual named Lucy Finley, who served as a laundress and became a nurse in the late 18th century.

Peeples has joined forces with other Philadelphia organizations—the Mütter Museum, the American Philosophical Society Museum, the Museum of the American Revolution—to help build on each other’s records. “Anyone working in an institution with ties to Benjamin Franklin eventually works together,” she said. A recent collaboration with the Fireman’s Hall Museum assessed how the hospital reacted to the city’s historic fires and provided care for injured firefighters.

“It’s rewarding to discover something new,” she said. “Even if we don’t have all the answers, there are people actively looking into some of this to try to fill in these gaps and complete the story.”

Finding the extraordinary in ordinary life

Peeples finds the extraordinary in ordinary things, like letters, diary entries, and personal items from physicians and nurses that give a glimpse into daily life from decades and centuries past.

“There’s a play called ‘Our Town’ with the message that the ordinary days are the most meaningful,” Peeples said. “I would love to time travel to a random day at the hospital and see exactly that—just a regular day.”

Nurses’ uniforms—thick, wool capes adorned with gold buttons that depict the hospital seal of the “Good Samaritan”—are some of Peeples’ favorite pieces in the collection. Many were donated by former nurses or their families.

Peeples is not only documenting the past. Especially as more modern notes become digital, she is intentional as she stewards contemporary records to continually build the collection. This ensures that future researchers have access to “ordinary life” items from more recent times, like documentation from the COVID-19 pandemic. These have built upon the archives’ materials from past infectious outbreaks, which include administrative notes from the 1918 influenza epidemic.

“Most of the archives are paper based. So much exists in computers now. People don’t keep the same notes or journal like they once did,” said Peeples. “But seeing what people wrote down, what they took the time to write about, sets you in a time and place.”

In 2021, Peeples encouraged the hospital’s frontline staff to share the human experience of the pandemic for a time capsule to be opened in 100 years. Staff submitted personal items like the ribbon used for the opening of a vaccine clinic, a framed photo of a Christmas tree decorated with face masks, and handwritten letters.

Serving as a good steward

Today, more than ever, in an era of rampant misinformation online and social media, it’s important to understand the past, Peeples said. As the archivist, Peeples ensures there’s an accurate record of what took place, so future generations can access “honest and realistic” history. “We must know about the good and the bad,” she said. “The mistakes that were made.”

Understanding how patients were treated for mental health in the hospital's early years can be particularly jarring.

In the 18th century, patients with mental illnesses were sometimes shackled in cells. Patients were also taken outside to walk the dry moat that surrounds the Pine Building, attracting the attention of visitors who stopped to watch, explained Peeples. Discouraging the crowds was ineffective, so the hospital’s leaders made people pay 4 pence to observe. This provided funding for patient care.

“Mental health was so poorly understood, but some considered this a safe haven,” said Peeples. Those with mental illnesses—which were thought to be caused by supernatural forces at the time—were historically sent to jail where they experienced worse conditions. Pennsylvania Hospital was the first medical facility to offer psychiatric care.

“The intention was to prevent patients from harming themselves and others,” Peeples said. “It’s much starker and more dramatic in these original forms of care, but that’s still the intention today.”

Sharing this more complicated history is not meant to glorify it, explained Peeples. It’s the reality of what care looked like. And the safety and preservation of the materials that present this history is vital. “We must be good stewards of what we have,” she said, because it allows us to trace the progression of patient care and guide us toward advancing it. “It’s the idea: when you know better, you do better.”