Let’s start with the beginnings of psychology in America, not to be confused with psychoanalysis. In the late 19th and early 20th century, psychology in America attempted to break from its philosophical roots and establish itself as an experimental science. American universities hired faculty to teach what was called in the popular press (e.g., newspapers, magazines) the “New Psychology” and establish experimental laboratories. Unfortunately, psychology’s image with the general public from the very beginning in the United States gave the wrong impression. Psychology was viewed as just another pseudoscience, not as an experimentally oriented discipline that used the scientific method for inquiry. As Benjamin (1986, p. 941) notes, “The public’s equation of psychology with clairvoyance, mind reading, and spiritualism was understandably disturbing to this early generation of experimental psychologists.” Those outside of the discipline had little understanding of exactly what psychologists did, which persists to some degree today.
Leading up to the summer of 1924, the new experimental psychology developed inside of American universities and progressed through several schools of thought (structuralism, functionalism, behaviorism). The most popular movement among the academic experimental psychologists by the 1920s was behaviorism, which focused on objective quantification of observable behavior and a repudiation of subjective interpretation. Behaviorists did not believe that it was possible to understand underlying causes, but instead focused upon what they could objectively view. Experimental psychology over the years had also transitioned from solely a pure science in the early days of structuralism into a more applied science. Psychologists were now attempting to take results from laboratory experiments and apply them to real-world situations and problems in order to improve quality of life (e.g., education, child rearing, business).
By the early 1920s, psychology became popular with many Americans because of its potential to solve everyday problems and a belief that “the science of psychology held the keys to prosperity and happiness” (Benjamin, 1986, p. 943). This enthusiasm did not last long as the Stock Market crash of 1929 and the Great Depression arrived, and experimental psychologists provided no answers for the important problems that ensued. Psychologist John B. Watson, who will be the focus of the example that history does not have to be boring below, was the most prominent individual of the behaviorist movement. Perhaps more than any other psychologist, Watson helped to popularize interest in the “New Psychology” with portions of the general public.
While many individuals enthusiastically embraced the application of psychology to the lives of everyday citizens, not everyone was enamored with this trend. Humorist Stephen Leacock noted in an article published in Harpers in March, 1924, “that America was suffering from an unfortunate “outbreak of psychology”” (cited in Benjamin & Dixon, 1996, p. 461). In the same Harpers article, Leacock wrote (cited in Benjamin, 1986, pp. 943-944):
In the earlier days this science was kept strictly confined to the colleges. . . . It had no particular connection with anything at all, and did no visible harm to those who studied it. . . . All this changed. As part of the new researches, it was found that psychology can be used . . . for almost everything in life. There is now not only psychology in the academic or college sense, but also a Psychology of Business, Psychology of Education, a Psychology of Salesmanship, a Psychology of Religion . . . and a Psychology of Playing the Banjo. . . . For almost every juncture of life we now call in the services of an expert psychologist as naturally as we send for an emergency plumber. In all our great cities there are already, or soon will be, signs that read “Psychologist—Open Day and Night.”
In summary, the “New Psychology” was experimentally oriented and had its roots in academia. It developed a certain amount of visibility with the general public during the early 1920s that appeared to be at its peak just before the Leopold and Loeb trial during the summer of 1924. Exactly how many, how much, or how accurately Americans knew about psychology at this time in history is difficult to pinpoint. Surveys about what the public knew about psychology would not begin until the 1940s (Benjamin, 1986). It seems probable that those in academia, the well-educated, and readers of popular magazines that included coverage of psychology were the most likely to have familiarity at this point, as opposed to the public at-large.
What about psychoanalysis? Where does it fit in the early portion of the 20th century in relation to the academic experimental psychologists such as John Watson? When psychoanalysis arrived in America (largely propelled by Freud’s American visit discussed in Chapter 6), its proponents attempted from the very beginning to supplant experimental psychology as the true science of the mind. The academic experimental psychologists were not initially worried. As Hornstein (1992, p. 255) points out, “psychologists initially saw psychoanalysis as just another of the “mind cures” that flashed across the American landscape… .” Psychoanalysis at this point in time was confined almost exclusively to practitioners in clinical and medical settings, as academic posts at American universities were held by experimental psychologists. The psychoanalysts, as far as academic positions were concerned, were on the outside looking in, and psychologists wanted to keep it that way.
Over the years, there was some quarrelling that took place between psychologists and psychoanalysts in academic journals and the popular press as both groups believed they possessed the true avenue to understanding the human condition. The experimental psychologists argued that there was nothing at all scientific about psychoanalysis as it was solely based on personal experience, which was highly subjective, making it nothing more than “nonsense” or a “fairytale.” In contrast, psychoanalysts claimed “that being psychoanalyzed was what made someone a credible scientist” (Hornstein, 1992, p. 256). From the very beginning, there has been tension between experimental psychologists and psychoanalysts, as both groups viewed the world through a different perspective. There still exists today a similar tension between research psychologists, who believe in the power of experimental methods to approximate truth, and mental health professionals, who are more likely to rely upon their clinical judgment and personal experience.
Psychoanalysis, like experimental psychology, also received some coverage in the popular press (see Chapter 7). Just like with psychology, exactly how many everyday citizens knew about psychoanalysis and how accurate was their knowledge is difficult to estimate. Here it is worthwhile to point out that both psychoanalysis and psychology were also battling over gaining recognition with some segments of the general public (e.g., the well-educated, readers of popular magazines). Interestingly, psychoanalysis was also referred to in the media as the “New Psychology,” just as experimental psychology was called the “New Psychology.” It is likely that the use of the same title in popular media reports was at least partially responsible for creating and furthering the confusion among the general public about what exactly a psychologist was in the 1920s as opposed to a psychoanalyst. Much to the dismay of the psychologists, most of the general public would eventually come to view psychology and psychoanalysis as the same thing.
More importantly, after the Leopold and Loeb trial, the New Psychology of Psychoanalysis had so captured the attention of the American public that it clearly won the long term war for public recognition. Specifically, the public image of psychology today is not the experimental researcher, but the clinician. Although beyond the scope of this book, it would not be long before psychoanalysts would not only capture the imagination of the public and psychoanalysis became dinner conversation in American homes across the country, but the public would begin to request universities start teaching this version of the New Psychology (i.e., psychoanalysis). For better or worse, psychoanalysis would receive its representation in colleges and universities across the country which persists into modern times.
The focus of my example that history does not have to be boring will center on the above mentioned psychologist John B. Watson. Watson, the leader of the behaviorist movement and a leading academi
c experimental psychologist, had a long interest in Freud and psychoanalysis. Rilling (2000) makes an insightful point that while both men were two of the most influential individuals in the history of psychology, they are almost never discussed together. This omission is peculiar because Watson and Freud were the “leaders” of psychology and psychoanalysis respectively, which were ultimately engaged in a battle for supremacy both scientifically as well as obtaining public recognition in the early 20th century. While Watson was initially intrigued by Freud’s theories, he ultimately “emerged as an arch anti-Freudian” (Rilling, 2000, p. 302). A few examples of Watson’s anti-Freudian views will be provided below as the scandalous story of Dr. Watson unfolds.
The Interesting and Scandalous Psychologist, John B. Watson
Here is the important information to begin the example with. “In 1974, a story was published about clandestine research done by John B. Watson that was judged to be so reprehensible that it was offered as the real reason he was fired from his faculty position at Johns Hopkins University in 1920, at perhaps the peak of his academic career” (Benjamin et al., 2007, p. 131). Not only was Watson fired, he was blackballed from obtaining another University position and never again entered academia.
Professor Watson was unlike the stereotype that we have of the unattractive old professor. The best concrete example I can provide is that John Watson was in many ways like the famous movie character Indiana Jones, played by Harrison Ford. Both were not only college professors, but young, charismatic, handsome, and even had their students fall in love with them. For example, early in the movie Raiders of the Lost Ark, there is a classroom scene where Dr. Jones is lecturing to his students. Many of the female students were gazing lovingly at him during the lecture, and one even wrote the words “love” and “you” on her eyelids, which became quite apparent when she closed her eyes. Similarly, when Watson was 25, one of his students wrote “a long love poem to Watson on one of her examination papers. It is not known what grade she got, but she did get Watson” (Schultz & Schultz, 2008, p. 298). The student was Mary Ickes who would subsequently become Watson’s first wife. Mary was from a prominent and politically connected family, and her brother would later become President Roosevelt’s secretary of the interior.
Moreover, the handsome Dr. Watson had the well-deserved reputation as a real life Don Juan, and he had no inhibitions about sharing his sexual escapades with others. The historian John Burnham (1994), who had interviewed Watson when Watson was 76 years old, provides a fascinating account. Specifically, Burnham notes that he interviewed many individuals who knew Watson personally. When trying to gather information about Watson’s work relevant to the history of psychology, Burnham reports that the conversation typically turned into a recounting of Watson’s romantic adventures. Based upon his interviews with family, friends, and those who worked with Watson, Burnham surmised that Watson may have been one of the greatest lovers the world had ever seen.
Also, Watson was so popular with his students, that the first year he was a professor at Johns Hopkins University; the students dedicated their yearbook to him (see Riniolo, 2008, for further details). Schultz and Schultz (2008, p. 299) have also reported that the students at Hopkins “voted him the handsomest professor, surely a unique accolade in the history of psychology.” Interestingly, the year after Watson arrived at Hopkins, the chair of the psychology department, James Baldwin, was forced to resign because a police raid found him at a Baltimore brothel. The story was initially suppressed by the media, but ultimately came to light when Baldwin was attempting to gain a position on the local school board.
John Watson was not only a handsome and charismatic professor, a legendary playboy, but he was without question one of the most influential individuals in the history of American psychology. His paper published in 1913 in the journal Psychological Review, “Psychology as the Behaviorist Views It,” was the article that initially defined and ultimately propelled the behaviorist movement that would come to dominate American psychology for the next 50 or so years. Watson’s behaviorism viewed psychology as an objective science that should only quantify behavior, and should not attempt to describe mental processes. The goal of behaviorism was the prediction and control of behavior. Many readers have heard of Watson because of his famous “Little Albert” study, in which he and his young graduate assistant Rosalie Rayner used Pavlovian classical conditioning to produce fear responses (i.e., phobic responses) in a well-adjusted and good tempered 11-month old infant (Watson & Rayner, 1920). Albert’s mother, however, removed her child from the study prior to the researchers attempting to remove the conditioned responses. Whatever happened to little Albert remains one of the great mysteries in the history of psychology (see Beck, Levinson, & Irons, 2009, for an extensive attempt to identify the boy).
As mentioned earlier, Watson had a long interest in Freudian theory (see Rilling, 2000). Perhaps Watson’s most sarcastic criticism of Freud occurs on the last page of the little Albert article when the authors theorize how Albert would be diagnosed by Freudian therapists (Watson & Rayner, 1920, p. 14):
The Freudians twenty years from now, unless their hypotheses change, when they come to analyze Albert’s fear of a seal skin coat—assuming that he comes to analysis at that age—will probably tease from him the recital of a dream which upon their analysis will show that Albert at three years of age attempted to play with the pubic hair of the mother and was scolded violently for it. (We are by no means denying that this might in some other case condition it). If the analyst has sufficiently prepared Albert to accept such a dream when found as an explanation of his avoiding tendencies, and if the analyst has the authority and personality to put it over, Albert may be fully convinced that the dream was a true revealer of the factors which brought about the fear.
In summary, the historical evidence indicates that Watson was not just an average run of the mill professor, but a very influential academic who was at the peak of his career when a monumental scandal would erupt. In fact, Johns Hopkins University, in an attempt to keep Watson from moving to a different institution, had recently substantially increased his salary (Buckley, 1989). By 1920, John Watson was a superstar within the academic world at the peak of his career.
As previously described, Watson had the well-deserved reputation as a playboy. Even early in his marriage to Mary Ickes, Watson had an affair that would embitter his wife towards him. Just prior to John and Mary’s courtship, Watson had been pursuing Miss Vida Sutton, who moved away from Chicago. Watson was teaching at the University of Chicago where he received his Ph.D before landing a position at Johns Hopkins. When Miss Sutton returned to Chicago a few years later, she and Watson were regularly seeing each other, and this was discovered by Mary’s brother, Harold Ickes, who had hired a private investigator to follow Watson when he became suspicious of his brother-in-law. Watson would later write to a colleague in 1910, early after his arrival at Johns Hopkins University, that his wife Mary, because of his conduct, “no longer cared for [him]” (cited in Buckley, 1989, p. 123) and she “instinctively loathes my touch” (cited in Buckley, 1989, p. 124). The Watsons’ marriage during their time at Hopkins was not happy, and Watson suspected his wife was having an affair. I know of no conclusive evidence to validate that Mary was unfaithful to her husband, but Watson believed, true or not, that this was a possibility.
Back to the graduate student, Rosalie Rayner, who had worked with Watson on the “little Albert” experiment. The Rayner family was a very prominent one in Maryland, as Rosalie’s grandfather had built a fortune as a successful business man and her Uncle had served in the United States Senate. The Watsons’ had become social friends with the Rayner family and were frequent guests at the Rayner home. This likely occurred as a cover, as the 42-year-old Watson and his 21-year-old student were having a torrid love affair. Watson’s wife ultimately became suspicious, and one evening she snuck into Rosalie’s bedroom and took “a number of her husband’s letters that Rosalie had concealed in a bure
au drawer” (Buckely, 1989, p. 125) Mary took the letters to her brother (John Ickes), who received legal advice that this evidence could be used as leverage in divorce proceedings. In addition, Watson notes that the letters were also being used in an attempt “to extort a considerable sum from the Rayner family” (Buckely, 1989, p. 125).
Thus, Johns Hopkins University had another scandal on its hands from the chair of the psychology department as the previous chair was forced to resign when it became public knowledge that he had visited a brothel. The university administrators were initially considering an alternative to termination of Watson, as he was an elite professor with an impressive academic record who certainly added to the prestige of the University. Perhaps because Watson believed there was no way that Hopkins would fire one of their most respected, popular, and influential professors, Watson not only continued to see Rosalie, he made no attempt to conceal the relationship. Add into the equation that Rosalie’s grandfather had given the University a ten thousand dollar gift, a substantial amount of money at the time, and he was not pleased with the scandalous and public conduct of Dr. Watson that involved his granddaughter. Watson’s wife, who had been publicly embarrassed by her husband’s conduct had no intention of going away quietly, also came from a prominent family with political connections. All of these factors must have influenced the ultimate decision of the president of Johns Hopkins University about what should happen to Watson.
In October, 1920, John Watson, one of the most influential psychologists of the 20th century, was fired. When his divorce trial occurred in November, 1920, it received newspaper coverage, which emphasized the “juicy” details of the divorce. Mary’s brother had photographs taken of the letters she had taken from Rosalie’s bedroom which subsequently became evidence at the divorce proceedings. Portions of the love letters were published in the Baltimore Sun, and the Watsons’ divorce became national news. Here is a sample of the love letters that John Watson had written to Rosalie. These quotes appeared in the Sunday morning edition of the Baltimore Sun (November 28, 1920, p. 10):
Freud, Murder, and Fame: Lessons in Psychology’s Fascinating History Page 2
