DATE: Monday, November 10, 1997             TAG: 9711080591

SECTION: LOCAL                   PAGE: B3   EDITION: FINAL 

TYPE: Column 

SOURCE: George Tucker 

                                            LENGTH:   80 lines

SPANISH FLU EPIDEMIC OFFERS A LESSON: GET YOUR SHOT TODAY

Influenza in any form is not a disease that you can trifle with. I know, since I came near to being one of the 562 Norfolkians who died of it when the Spanish influenza variety hit here in 1918. So, since we are on the eve of the 80th anniversary of the epidemic that killed around 548,000 Americans, perhaps this column will induce those of you who have neglected to get your flu shots to do so. Otherwise, you might be pushing up dandelions when spring comes around again.

Originating during the winter of 1917-18 in Spain, the first American case of the disease was reported in Boston on March 11, 1918. By the time it had run its global course, an estimated 20 million people had died of the virus.

The epidemic reached the Hampton Roads area in late August 1918 when a tramp steamer docked at Newport News. Most of its crew was sick with the Spanish influenza. Since quarantine restrictions were lax, people entering and leaving the ship unwittingly carried the virus with them. Still, there is no record of any outbreak here until early September.

At that time, Norfolk was in the midst of an unprecedented expansion brought on by World War I. When the epidemic struck, the city had 135,500 residents. Only a year earlier the population had been around 94,000. These figures show that some 42,500 additional people, most of them engaged in wartime activities, had crammed the city to the bursting point in one year's time.

Foretelling the horror to come, the Literary Digest on Sept. 14, 1918, in commenting on the epidemic's rapid spread throughout war-ravaged Europe, said: ``The authorities agree we shall not escape it.'' Even so, this warning was tardy.

Once the first American Spanish influenza case had been reported in Boston in March 1918, the disease spread like wildfire along the Eastern Seaboard, infecting cities, rural areas and Army and Navy installations. By Sept. 23, 1918, Dr. Powhatan Schenck, Norfolk's health officer, reported 110 cases locally. Even so, Schenck was optimistic, ending his report by merely advising citizens to cover their faces with handkerchiefs or gauze masks when they were in crowded places.

Five days after Schenck's report, however, the situation had considerably worsened and the newspapers announced the names of the first Norfolkians to die of the disease - J.H. Pierce of 220 W. 34th St., who was characterized as ``a popular young man about town,'' and Mrs. James F. Seay of 210 College Place.

Despite the mounting terror, Schenck remained optimistic. He did warn Norfolkians, however, that it was not the influenza itself, but the secondary bacilliary pneumonia, that was usually fatal. His admonitions were correct, for Norfolk health records plainly show that in nearly every instance the latter complication killed most of the victims.

By Oct. 2, the Norfolk Health Department reported 951 cases in the city. This was followed the next day when a three-column headline in The Virginian-Pilot and Norfolk Landmark reported that the figure had skyrocketed to 1,926. What is more, the Portsmouth page of the same paper stated that Norfolk's sister city on the other side of the Elizabeth River had finally acknowledged that it was in the grip of a major epidemic.

By then, Norfolk's hospitals were jammed and many public schools had been requisitioned as emergency wards. In the meantime, schools, churches, theaters, dance halls, pool parlors and the YMCA had been closed temporarily, while banking and telephone services had been cut to a minimum. Moreover, the obituary columns in the same papers had expanded to several pages.

At the height of the epidemic, 8,726 cases of Spanish influenza were reported in Norfolk alone. But that was an imperfect count since the health authorities readily acknowledged that many families did not have a physician in attendance.

Finally, by Nov. 4, the deadly disease had run its course locally, at which time Dr. Schenck expressed his thanks in the newspapers to everyone who had helped fight the epidemic.

Meanwhile, Norfolk's bout with Spanish influenza had spawned a memorable anecdote.

Shortly after the end of the epidemic, Schenck was examining the city's emergency care bills with Dr. Lyman Paey, who had directed an African-American emergency ward in one of the city schools. Paey handed Schenck the bills for the ward, all of them marked ``Paid.''

``What does this mean?'' the astonished Schenck demanded.

Paey grinned and explained that his black patients had paid all of the costs of their emergency care to lessen the city's financial burden.

``Well, I'll be damned!'' Schenck exclaimed.

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