We are facing weeks of uncertainty, nobody knows how many, as we are stalked by a dark shadow that threatens to envelop us with the scariest health challenge in more than a century. We are taking the Coronavirus seriously because our ancestors throughout the world were devastated by a virus known as the “Spanish Influenza”—-although it didn’t start in Spain—and the terrible outcome has remained a specter within our culture. Now it is here and many find themselves trying not to think of their mortality.
The 1918-18 influenza epidemic might have started right next door to us. In Kansas, not Spain. Its first major flare-up was at Camp Funston, a World War One training camp at Fort Riley, Kansas. In March, 1918, five-hundred soldiers got sick. The outbreak quickly waned, perhaps because many of the Funston soldiers headed to Europe after war was declared in April.
The flu spread from there throughout the world, mutated, and eventually came back to the States.
By the time it had run its course, the worldwide death total was at least 50-million people, maybe 100-million. In this country, 670,000 deaths were attributed to it, more than the combined death counts in both world wars, Korea and Vietnam. Missouri’s total was 12,250. To put that in some context, the population of Jefferson City at the time was a little less than 14,500.
In those days there were two primary information sources: the newspapers and the telephone. The newspapers brought our ancestors news about the slow course of the disaster. The speculation (“analysis” if you will) of the day was two people on the telephone talking to one another.
Missouri had no cases of Spanish Influenza when St. Louis Health Commissioner Max Starkloff issued three “don’ts” to fight the spread of the disease “if it reaches here.”
—Don’t cough or sneeze unless your mouth is protected by a handkerchief. —Don’t, if you can avoid it, sleep in the same room with another person if you have influenza. —Don’t fail to call a doctor when the first symptoms are felt.
Less than three weeks later, on October 8, the Jefferson City Daily Capital News reported the Secretary of the State Council of Defense, Frank Robinson, had been sent to the “quarantine hospital” suffering from apparent Spanish Influenza. “Local physicians are not alarmed over the prospect in any way, but they are ready to take all precautions necessary,” aid the paper.
The very next day the newspaper reported the city had fifteen cases of the flu. The mayor called a meeting of physicians, ministers, and heads of the city schools to decide if schools, churches, and theatres should be closed. The state prison was under quarantine.
On October 10, the schools were closed, churches cancelled services indefinitely, students at Lincoln Institute were forbidden to leave the campus, gatherings of more than fifteen people were prohibited, and streets were to be flushed each morning. “These precautions are deemed sufficient to prevent the spread of the influenza epidemic in the city,” said the newspaper.
The next day city had “no fewer than 50 cases.” By October 15th, there were 65 and former Madison Hotel clerk Raymond Smith had become the city’s first fatality. Among the newly-infected people: City Physician, Dr. Edward Mansur, who was in bed with a “mild form.”
The next day, another man died, Missouri Pacific engineer Charles Alcorn, whose flu degenerated into a fatal pneumonia.
On October 17th, the city had 150 cases and a day later the number topped 185. The city already had a serious shortage of nurses and by the 22nd, Community Nurse Ruth Porter had taken to her bed with the flu.
Churches were allowed to have services for the first time in two weeks but the theatres remained closed. So were schools.
Forty-two new cases were recorded October 23-26. Dr. Mansur was able to visit some ill folks that day but was back in bed the next day. The number of cases passed 300 by the end of October.
About a dozen people had died by November 14 when the newspaper published a large public notice on the front page citing “Unusual measures” that were to be taken to “remove the influenza from our city.” Some of them sound familiar today. Others tell us about some of the sanitation issues of the day:
—Spend a lot of time out of doors but away from crowds.
—Open doors and windows of your homes, especially in the bedrooms, for a few hours each day and clean out dirty corners.
—If anyone in your home has had a cold or even felt bad fumigate their bedrooms at least if not the entire house. Fumigation can be done by anyone in three or four hours with Sulphur or formaldehyde candles which can be purchased at any drug store at small cost.
—It is the duty as well as a law that every contagious disease be reported to the City Physician for the protection of yourself as well as your neighbor.
—Business houses are urged to at least fumigate their stores one night this week. Formaldehyde is inexpensive and harmless, also there is no fire hazard. Those businesses serving other than alcoholic beverages must wash glasses and china used by patrons in hot water and with soap. Saloons must wash glasses used by patrons more thoroughly than usual. Water basins used for the washing must be emptied and refilled at least four times a day. And care must be exercised to keep large numbers of people from gathering in those businesses. Even small groups must be made to spread out. Any business allowing more than 15 people to assemble or enter the place at one time could be closed.
—All business places must have prominent signs asking people not to cough or sneeze in their places. Such signs will cause people to cough or sneeze into their handkerchief.
—Factory superintendents must take the temperature of all employees at least once a day and anyone who is 99 or more must be sent home and not allowed to return until he has a doctor’s certification that he is not affected with a contagious disease, particularly the flu. Each factory must be fumigated at least once a week.
The city board of health agreed a couple of days later to delay any closings for four days. If, on November 22, “there is not a decreased number of influenza cases reported daily in the city, the businesses houses will be closing tight for four days in an effort to stamp out the disease.”
The Miller and Weiss Pool Hall on Madison Street was closed for a week after a policeman found thirty-one people inside.
But people kept getting sick. And people kept dying. The Capital City—as well as all of Missouri and the nation—was fighting a plague with no medicine that could stop it.
We’ll have more next week.