And here lies an antidote of sorts to the horror of Broad Street, to the grisly image of entire families dying together in their single-room flats: the image of Snow and Whitehead building an unlikely friendship in those late winter months of 1855, drawn together by a terrible outbreak of disease in their neighborhood and, ironically, by Whitehead’s initial skepticism about Snow’s theory. We know very little about the personal interaction between the two men, beyond the crucial data they exchanged, beyond Snow’s sharing of his monograph, and his prophetic statements about the future of
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