A public service newspaper ad warning of the spread of the Spanish influenza in 1918.
Long Beach’s city health officer Dr. Ralph L. Taylor was not concerned about what the common, undereducated people were afraid of in 1918: The Spanish influenza. There were early reports of people dying in large numbers in the eastern part of the United States earlier in the years of the disease’s first wave that came to the U.S. in early 1918, but Long Beach had yet to suffer a casualty to the mysterious ailment until a stronger second wave of the Spanish influenza spread west. But, on Oct. 2, Taylor (Dr. Taylor, remember) told the citizens of the town that “Not only are there no cases of Spanish influenza in Long Beach, but strictly speaking no such disease exists.”
Problem solved!
He added, using language that would become familiar a bit more than a century later, that the ailment was the “normal” flu. La grippe, he said.
About 10 days after Taylor’s learned reassurance, between 400 and 500 cases of Spanish influenza were reported in Long Beach, with five deaths.
For most, it was a bit like the “normal flu,” though for others it brought a torturous death. In the serious, fatal cases, victims’ skin turned dark brown or blue and they died within hours or days, suffocating on the fluids that filled their lungs.
The city took fairly swift action and on Oct. 10, all schools, churches, movie theaters, dance halls, bathhouses, fraternal lodges and any other places of indoor assemblage were closed.
In another move that’s in danger of being echoed today, slow response was deadly. In Philadelphia. The city’s director of public health also insisted the disease was just “normal flu” and OK’ed the city’s Liberty Loan Parade on Sept. 18 (the parade in Los Angeles was canceled) which was attended by tens of thousands of patriotic citizens. A week and a half later, more than 1,000 Philadelphians were dead and more than 200,000 were sick.
There were plenty of similarities to the current disease, and similar advice from medical experts, who warned that the disease spreads by way of droplets (that word needs to be updated) that are expelled through coughs and sneezes as well as by the crude but then-popular sport of spitting on the sidewalk.
When symptoms appeared—fever, headaches, pain in the eyes or ears—people were advised to go home and stay in bed. In most cases, the symptoms disappeared in three or four days, though some victims developed meningitis or pneumonia, of course, and many died.
When the number of cases waned at the end of 1918, there was a letdown in vigilance and a relaxing of restrictions against the disease. But the disease struck a third and final time, though less severe than the second wave as more and more people had developed immunity. That spike was nevertheless exacerbated by the return of U.S. servicemen after the Armistice. Cotton masks were the preferred means of preventing the Spanish influenza’s spread, and some California cities, such as San Francisco and Pasadena, issued fines as high as $5 (which was more than just walkin’-around money in 1918) to those out in public without masks.
Another deterrent urged by doctors at the time was aspirin, and not a little aspirin. The medicine was trademarked by Bayer in 1899 and the patent expired in 1917, allowing other companies to release the pills. Medical experts recommended people suffering from the Spanish flu take daily doses of up to 30 grams, while today 4 grams is considered to be the safest maximum dose. Reports released in this decade indicate that aspirin poisoning, which has many of the same symptoms as the flu, including increased fluids in the lungs, could have contributed to many of the deaths.
In America, the Spanish influenza killed 675,000 people, and it didn’t chiefly attack the very young and the old and infirm. It killed many able-bodied young men and women as well as entire families and practically whole small towns. Its death toll was higher than the brutal Great War. Hospitals and morgues overflowed and bodies piled up. Some people buried their family members themselves on their property.
In 1918, life expectancy in the U.S. dropped by an astounding 12 years.
Finally, by the summer of 1919, the Spanish influenza pandemic came to an end as those who were infected and survived had developed immunity.
But it remains handily at the top of the list of the world’s worst pandemics, and let’s pray nothing topples it.
Tim Grobaty is a columnist and the Opinions Editor for the Long Beach Post. You can reach him at 562-714-2116, email [email protected], @grobaty on Twitter and Grobaty on Facebook.
Quarantine Chronicles Day 38: The pandemic to end all pandemics
Long Beach’s city health officer Dr. Ralph L. Taylor was not concerned about what the common, undereducated people were afraid of in 1918: The Spanish influenza. There were early reports of people dying in large numbers in the eastern part of the United States earlier in the years of the disease’s first wave that came to the U.S. in early 1918, but Long Beach had yet to suffer a casualty to the mysterious ailment until a stronger second wave of the Spanish influenza spread west. But, on Oct. 2, Taylor (Dr. Taylor, remember) told the citizens of the town that “Not only are there no cases of Spanish influenza in Long Beach, but strictly speaking no such disease exists.”
Problem solved!
He added, using language that would become familiar a bit more than a century later, that the ailment was the “normal” flu. La grippe, he said.
About 10 days after Taylor’s learned reassurance, between 400 and 500 cases of Spanish influenza were reported in Long Beach, with five deaths.
For most, it was a bit like the “normal flu,” though for others it brought a torturous death. In the serious, fatal cases, victims’ skin turned dark brown or blue and they died within hours or days, suffocating on the fluids that filled their lungs.
The city took fairly swift action and on Oct. 10, all schools, churches, movie theaters, dance halls, bathhouses, fraternal lodges and any other places of indoor assemblage were closed.
In another move that’s in danger of being echoed today, slow response was deadly. In Philadelphia. The city’s director of public health also insisted the disease was just “normal flu” and OK’ed the city’s Liberty Loan Parade on Sept. 18 (the parade in Los Angeles was canceled) which was attended by tens of thousands of patriotic citizens. A week and a half later, more than 1,000 Philadelphians were dead and more than 200,000 were sick.
There were plenty of similarities to the current disease, and similar advice from medical experts, who warned that the disease spreads by way of droplets (that word needs to be updated) that are expelled through coughs and sneezes as well as by the crude but then-popular sport of spitting on the sidewalk.
When symptoms appeared—fever, headaches, pain in the eyes or ears—people were advised to go home and stay in bed. In most cases, the symptoms disappeared in three or four days, though some victims developed meningitis or pneumonia, of course, and many died.
When the number of cases waned at the end of 1918, there was a letdown in vigilance and a relaxing of restrictions against the disease. But the disease struck a third and final time, though less severe than the second wave as more and more people had developed immunity. That spike was nevertheless exacerbated by the return of U.S. servicemen after the Armistice. Cotton masks were the preferred means of preventing the Spanish influenza’s spread, and some California cities, such as San Francisco and Pasadena, issued fines as high as $5 (which was more than just walkin’-around money in 1918) to those out in public without masks.
Another deterrent urged by doctors at the time was aspirin, and not a little aspirin. The medicine was trademarked by Bayer in 1899 and the patent expired in 1917, allowing other companies to release the pills. Medical experts recommended people suffering from the Spanish flu take daily doses of up to 30 grams, while today 4 grams is considered to be the safest maximum dose. Reports released in this decade indicate that aspirin poisoning, which has many of the same symptoms as the flu, including increased fluids in the lungs, could have contributed to many of the deaths.
In America, the Spanish influenza killed 675,000 people, and it didn’t chiefly attack the very young and the old and infirm. It killed many able-bodied young men and women as well as entire families and practically whole small towns. Its death toll was higher than the brutal Great War. Hospitals and morgues overflowed and bodies piled up. Some people buried their family members themselves on their property.
In 1918, life expectancy in the U.S. dropped by an astounding 12 years.
Finally, by the summer of 1919, the Spanish influenza pandemic came to an end as those who were infected and survived had developed immunity.
But it remains handily at the top of the list of the world’s worst pandemics, and let’s pray nothing topples it.
Tim Grobaty
Tim Grobaty is a columnist and the Opinions Editor for the Long Beach Post. You can reach him at 562-714-2116, email [email protected], @grobaty on Twitter and Grobaty on Facebook.
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