2020 CORONA PANDEMIC LIKENED TO 1918 SPANISH FLU PANDEMIC

When teaching American History to her classes and imparting the relevance of remembering historic events, the late Nanette Robison, legendary teaching legend at Monroe High School, told her students, “There will come a period in your life when something of such great magnitude occurs, it will be something you never forget and will be written into the pages of history.”

        When 2020 arrived we never expected it to bring something so terrible, so horrific, and so vile that it would virtually shut down not only our country but the world as a whole. The unforeseen and deadly Coronavirus has done basically that, bringing one of the worst pandemics in modern history to our doorsteps.

        Many have likened this virus to the deadly Spanish Flu Pandemic which hit the world back in 1918, killing fifty million people in its wake. Since there are no known existing issues of The Walton Tribune from 1918 to detail how the Spanish Flu Pandemic affected Walton County, I was fortunate in locating an article from an old issue of the University of Michigan center for the History of Medicine on when and how the pandemic hit and affected Georgia and the toll it took on our state. Much of the information from this article came from old issues of the Atlanta Constitution and Atlanta Journal along with reports from various doctors in the area.

        This article provides you a historical tracking so you will see Georgia did what was necessary and needed to survive this outbreak. Now, 102 years later, we are facing yet another scourge which, while it will test our strength, resources and our faith, the virus will find that, like in 1918, it cannot win its battle as people unite in many ways in finding ways to destroy the virus and once again bring an end to the fear, anxiety and isolation and begin to rebuild our country from where we find ourselves today.

        Here is a look at how the Spanish Flu pandemic of 1918 decimated the state of Georgia: “On September 18, 1918, residents of Georgia learned that soldiers of the Second Infantry Replacement Regiment at nearby Camp Gordon, just a dozen miles from downtown Atlanta, had been placed under quarantine by the camp commandant after several soldiers fell ill with influenza upon returning from a training session at the nearby Norcross firing range.  Two days later, after cases began appearing in other regiments at the camp, Brigadier General W. H. Sage also placed the First, Second and Fourth Regiments, as well as several smaller units, under quarantine.  Sage prohibited theses soldiers from entering or using any of the camp halls, amusement venues, or other gathering places, and barred them from visiting Atlanta or Chamblee for at least ten days. Altogether, approximately half of the men at the camp were placed under quarantine.

        Atlantans were not caught off-guard.  They were well aware of the severe epidemics of influenza currently plaguing cities of the Northeast. They also knew the ways in which the disease spread and were warned to avoid crowds and crowded places, poorly ventilated buildings and common drinking cups.  The messages were mixed, however.  On the one hand, local newspapers reported on United States Surgeon-General Rupert Blue’s survey results, which found that several cities and military camps were in the midst of serious epidemics.  But the United States Public Health Service told residents that the current form of influenza circulating was “nothing but an aggravated form of the old-fashioned grip,” and was not especially dangerous unless the victim contracted pneumonia.  Atlantans were told they had little to fear now that Camp Gordon was under quarantine.  If only that had been true.

        For the time being, the disease remained within the confines of the camp and by the end of October, there were over 1,900 cases reported there.  Overwhelmed, medical officers issued an urgent call for 75 trained nurses.  Twelve brave women from Atlanta immediately responded.  The Red Cross, and the Atlanta Registered Nurses’ Club worked to organize more volunteers.  Camp Jackson in South Carolina, in the midst of its own devastating epidemic, also requested help from Atlanta nurses, but the need was so great at Camp Gordon that the appeal had to be denied.  At the camp, chief surgeon Colonel Frank T. Woodbury, an authority on military medical management, ordered increased sanitary measures in barracks, implemented mandatory mask use by all soldiers and officers, and a few days later, ordered the soldiers to sleep outdoors in the fresh air.  Ultimately, nearly 2,000 enlisted men were admitted to the camp’s infirmary for influenza and pneumonia during the epidemic and 94 died as a result of the disease.

        In Atlanta, city health officer Dr. J. P. Kennedy was well aware of the situation both at Camp Gordon and along the east coast.  At the time there did not seem to be an epidemic in Atlanta: only one death from influenza and three deaths from pneumonia had been reported to Kennedy’s office, although, since influenza was not your reportable, it was impossible to ascertain with any certainty just how widespread cases may have been.  Kennedy realized that the epidemic that was raging in Camp Gordon would likely show up at his city’s doorstep in the coming days, likely introduced by civilians traveling to Atlanta by train.  He warned residents to take precautions against influenza, informing them of the disease’s symptoms and recommending that people avoid crowds and public assemblies.  Two days later on October 6, the Atlanta Board of Health made influenza a reportable disease.  Kennedy estimated that there were at least several hundred cases already circulating in the city. He did his best to assure residents that there was no epidemic yet.

        The next day, United States Surgeon General Rupert  Blue notified all state health officials that they should consider enacting social distancing measures to prevent the spread of influenza.  In Georgia health officer Dr. T. F. Abercrombie decided to leave that decision up to local authorities.  Kennedy wasted no time in deciding to, as he put it, “lock the stable before the horse was stolen.”  At that time there were only a handful of cases reported and no discernable epidemic.  Kennedy believed that there were probably fifteen to twenty active cases of influenza per physician in the city. He was aware of the cases reported in cities such as Boston and he decided not to wait for a more serious outbreak.  On October 7, Kennedy and the city Board of Health voted to close all schools, libraries, theaters, movie houses, dance halls, churches and other places of public amusement, ordering street cars to keep their windows wide open when raining. The city council followed suit with a resolution to the same effect, closing public places for a period of two months or until the epidemic had passed. Violation of the closure order came with a hefty $200 fine.  Whether it was due to the tone set by the Board of Health and city council or because of a sense of civic duty, Atlanta’s business interests were models of cooperation. After the Board of Health’s meetings, managers of the Wells, Lyric, Forsyth and Rialto theaters canceled their shows and closed their doors.  Students reported to their classrooms the next day only to retrieve their books and homework assignments.  Later in the day the Fulton County health officials closes all churches and public and private schools in the county. Atlanta and its neighbors then settled down for a long, entertainment-less autumn. The only two venues remaining open were the Southeastern Fair and Liberty Pageant because they both were held outdoors.

        Physicians began reporting their cases on a regular basis and Kennedy began to get a sense of his city’s epidemic.  Each day brought 100 to 150 new cases to the tallies.  Even though these numbers did not constitute an epidemic, it was clear the influenza was exacting a toll on Atlanta.  Nurses were in such great demand that Kennedy had to refuse a request from nearby Conyers, Georgia. “We have no nurses to spare,” Kennedy sadly announced.  The epidemic at Camp Gordon and Atlanta’s on need had siphoned off all available help. Health department welfare nurses, along with Red Cross nurses, were busy caring for the city’s ill and providing warm meals for families.

        In mid-October Kennedy remained hopeful the influenza would not become an epidemic in Atlanta. State health officer Dr. T. F. Abercrombie felt similar in that the influenza had been “checked.”  The cooperative spirit of the citizens and merchants’ waned thinking the outbreak not severe enough to keep their doors closed.  Theater managers argued that theaters in New York remained open and they wanted to reopen saying their theaters were clean. Each of Atlanta’s nineteen theaters had a weekly payroll of $175 -$330, pay that was lost to workers each day the theaters remained closed.  In the meantime, Abercrombie ordered that all fairgoers would be required to wear face masks which did not dampen the spirit of the crowds.

        By the  end of October there were now over 2,000 cases of influenza reported in Atlanta, with Kennedy saying the situation was not worsening, noting that the city was faring much better than cities in the northeast.  After a meeting with Mayor Asa G. Candler, Kennedy announced the closure order would likely remain in effect for at least another week. In making his announcement he said, “There are indications that the disease has reached its zenith here. We will, sadly, pay a toll in deaths this week and next week as well.”  Mayor Candler said he would ask the city council to rescind the closure order and gathering plan as soon as the Board of Health recommended it.

        Part two concludes with how the city’s cases declined but surged again and the terrible winter and spring approached taking more lives than ever expected and how the city and its leaders coped with the pandemic.