By Janice Kurbjun
Times staff writer
When the flu hit Carbon County 90 years ago, it wasn’t just any flu, nor did it hit under normal circumstances.
It started with usual symptoms, but when family members went to sleep at night not to wake the next morning, the flu strain of 1918 proved itself a deadly mutant.
Within hours of contracting the Spanish influenza, a victim could lose the ability to walk. Taking on a bluish tint to the face, patients would quickly begin coughing up blood gathered in the lungs, while some bled from the ears.
The virus often caused the nose, stomach and intestines to bleed. In some cases, the flu opened the door to pneumonia, whereby a patient died by drowning in his or her own bodily fluids. Nearly all of the Spanish flu’s victims were under the age of 65, while approximately half were aged 20 to 40, according to an article published in the Chicago Journal of Infectious Diseases. It usually killed in less than 24 hours.
“I had a little bird, it’s name was Enza. I opened the window, and in-flew-enza,” chanted children in the streets of post-World War I America. The flu was striking quickly. After the initial bite, a victim only had a day or so to live. Sometimes it was only a few hours. And, in contrast to its relatives, the Spanish flu primarily killed on its own.
Evolving every year, the flu is still often able to capture a few victims before the year is out. The most deadly cases hit the young and the old who are unable to keep their immune system strong long enough to fight the onslaught of pneumonia that moves in for the final kill after five or six days.
Spreading in a pandemic across the county and the world, facilitated by the movement of World War I troops, the Spanish influenza took up to 50 million lives worldwide. Carbon County was no exception.
After losing its hospital to fire in early 1918, Rawlins was in no shape to handle the pandemic virus that did nothing to hide its progress across the country. Despite the onslaught of the flu on the East Coast and its rapid dissemination west, the Rawlins Republican, the newspaper of the time, indicated no sense of worry, at least not until Oct. 10, 1918.
On that date, a notice to the citizens of Rawlins from Mayor C. H. Anderson closed all assembly places, including schools, churches and sidewalks in accordance with a national notice that read, “you are instructed upon appearance of the disease in your city to discontinue all public meetings ...” The schools were closed off and on throughout the end of 1918 and into the new year.
Oct. 10 also saw 40 cases of flu reported in Rawlins. According to a doctor’s report, the flu resembles a “very contagious kind of ‘cold.’” Many of the reports of death at the time indicated a rapid failure of a person’s immune system.
Bridget Hettgar of the Carbon County Public Health Office confirmed the speed of death. “They got it and were gone,” she said. “There was high mortality in a small amount of time.”
The Republican reported another 40 cases in Medicine Bow alone on Oct. 24, where a doctor from Casper was sent for care. Little Snake River Valley and Saratoga had a number of cases, but did not have “enough doctors to care for half of them,” the Republican reported.
In Medicine Bow, three of the four deaths that week happened in 24 hours or less. The school was being used as a hospital to accommodate the number of patients.
From October into the new year, the flu claimed people of all ages. The number of death reports on the front page of the newspaper averaged four or five each week.
“Mrs. Cluff had gone to bed in the evening feeling badly,” the Jan. 6, 1919, Republican read, “but her illness was not considered serious, and in the morning she was discovered dead in her bed.”
A cartoon in a U.S. Public Health Service official health bulletin read, “coughs and sneezes spread diseases as dangerous as poison gas shells.” Pertinent, since the country was mourning the death of its soldiers as well.
The health bulletins recommended collecting any mucous from coughing or sneezing on gauze, rags or paper napkins and sending them out to be burned. The suggestion mirrored the methods of sequestering the 17th century European black plague.
In November 1918, while the number of new flu cases was decreasing, the cases themselves were more severe. This report was ironically on the same front page that announced the world at peace.
Name after name after name appeared in the pages of the Republican during this time, announcing deaths. Increasingly, the flu was taking the working class of the county, a detrimental effect not only to families but to the economy. In the third week of December, the flu took two railroad workers, an auto truck driver in the oil fields and a sheep herder.
According to local historians Rans Baker and Dan Kinnaman, the flu wiped out a third of Carbon County’s population. “It hit entire families,” Baker said. “And there was no rhyme or reason as to why one died and another survived.”
Blame it on the birds
Researchers brought the Spanish influenza virus strain back to life in 2005 to study its behavior.
Rebuilding it from the tissue of an Alaskan victim buried in permafrost in isolated conditions, they hoped they could unearth some clues as to the flu strain’s evolution. The effort was partly to shed light on the past and partly to prepare for the future.
By piecing together biological functions of the strain, today’s researchers were able to discover that the Spanish flu may have actually originated with poultry. The strain likely spliced genes derived from the human virus with genes from the avian virus of the time.
Evidence outlined in a report published in Science on Oct. 7, 2005, suggested the virus may have jumped directly from birds to humans, similar to the cases of avian flu prevalent in eastern countries today.
The Spanish flu will likely not strike again, primarily because most people today have immunity to that particular strain of the virus. However, authorities consider a future pandemic virus likely, if not inevitable. Studying the 1918 virus enables the medical field to recognize and prepare for new flu strains that may pose a threat.
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Jan Kurbjun
- A traveler. An adventurer.
- A restless soul. A free spirit. An optimist. A thinker. Passionate. Fun-loving... :D
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