Flu victims quarantined at the Oakland Municipal
Auditorium, 1918. In the background, stage scenery separates the “wards.” |
photo credit: Oakland History Room
Our recent swine flu scare reminded me of another time that
our nation braced against an onslaught of disease—but that time it was
devastating.
In 1918, a worldwide epidemic of flu killed 400,000
Americans. I first wrote about the flu in 1999 when I found an interesting file
on it in the Oakland History Room.
Fear was so great here that City Council passed an ordinance
that anyone not wearing a mask over his or her nose and mouth could be
arrested. Oakland held the West Coast record for such arrests, estimated to be
around 1,000-- this in the period between Nov. 1 and Nov. 22, when the
ordinance was repealed.
But the masks were ineffectual. The California State Board
of Health issued a report after the epidemic had passed, stating that the masks
did not affect the flu’s progress. In fact, they might be anti-beneficial, causing
the wearer to repeatedly inhale a warmed percentage of their exhale, creating a
fertile ground for germs.
The flu first showed up in Oakland in early October, 1918.
Those first six cases were all strangers from out of town. Since the flu
originated in the U.S. in Massachusetts in late August 1918, it took a
surprisingly short time to make it to our coast, given that airplane travel was
not yet common.
Two weeks after those initial six cases, Mayor Davie closed
down theaters, schools, churches and poolrooms, just as was recently done in
Mexico [note: in 2009], so that large congregations of people would not gather to spread the
infection. The wise mayor did not, however, close down the saloons; he merely
dictated that they had to use paper cups or sterilize their glasses.
On Oct. 22, the Oakland Municipal Auditorium on the edge of
Lake Merritt became an impromptu Red Cross Hospital. A prison chain gang
cleaned and mopped the auditorium in preparation for patients.
Since there were no walls to separate the “wards” into male
and female sections, someone made the creative decision to use stage scenery
(the auditorium had been the site of many theatrical performances). The
temporary 500-bed hospital operated for less than a month, but saw a lot of
patients in that short time.
The first night it opened, 75 people showed up, and there
was only one doctor on staff and no nurses. Red Cross women who were there that
night sewing masks graciously offered their assistance. They simply did what
they could to keep people comfortable. Later, one nurse worked five days
straight without sleeping.
By late October, an astonishing 4,714 Oaklanders had the
flu, according to the Fruitvale Progress. On a single day, 214 cases were
reported.
By early November, the Oakland death toll was 450.
Nationally, there were more deaths from the flu than on the battlefields in
France—since WWI was concurrent with this epidemic. On Armistice Day, Nov. 11,
a nurse from the municipal auditorium remembered people wild in the streets
with celebration, while the patients still lay miserably abed.
By late November, as quickly as it had come on, the flu
abated. A second outbreak came in early 1919 (Mayor Davie was arrested in
Sacramento for not wearing his mask), a third in Fall 1919, and a fourth in
1920.
* * *
Erika Mailman is the author of several historical novels.
Reach her through her website, www.erikamailman.com.
This column originally appeared in the Montclarion newspaper in 2009, as part of my "Looking Back" column which ran from 1999 to 2011.
1 comment:
My grandmother was 16 and spent at least some of her high school years in Alameda. There's nary a peep about the '18 flu in the family lore. There's not much lore.
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