Bonus Episode: History Daily - The First Reported Case of the Spanish Flu

00:00:00
Speaker 1: Hello.

00:00:00
Speaker 2: Extraordinaries, Daniel and Kelly's Extraordinary Universe is doing a feed swap with History Daily.

00:00:06
Speaker 1: History Daily is a podcast that tackles well History Daily. The episodes are typically pretty short, so for the feed swap, we picked the science topic to share with you. We hope you enjoy it.

00:00:17
Speaker 2: Will be back to our regularly scheduled dKu fun on Tuesday, and we hope you're having an amazing weekend.

00:00:32
Speaker 1: It's early March nineteen eighteen in Fort Riley, a US Army training facility in Kansas. Inside the mess hall, the company cook, Private Albert Gitchell Ladle's beef stew onto a metal tray. His movements are mechanical, born of countless repetition. As he adds a second dollar of watery brown sludge onto the tray and slides it to a waiting soldier, gets you all wipe sweat from his brown with the back of his hand, But just as he's about to call out next, he feels a slight tickle in his throat. A cough rises, but soon he's hacking. Then another man appears at the counter camps notoriously ill tempered drill Sergeant Gitchill stifles his cough and lowers his gaze, careful to avoid provoking the ire of the grumpy sergeant. Gitchell ladles two scoops of stew onto his tray, but as he passes it back, tray falls from his hand and crashes to the floor. Gitschell stares at his trembling hand, confused. Then his vision blurs and there's a burning sensation in his skull. He looks up at the drill sergeant, whose boots are now splattered with gravy. The sergeant hisses, what the hell's wrong with you? Gitchill tries to mumble an apology, but the sergeant just stares at him, his expression turning from one of rage to one of concern. The surgeon barks, you look awful, Gitchell, Go get some sleep. The next morning, on March eleventh, Gitchill wakes inside his barracks, racked with a terrible cough, slitting headache, and violent chills. Struggling to breathe, he staggers to the infirmary, where a nurse takes his temperature is running a fever of one hundred and three degrees. The nurse ushers Gitchell into a special wing reserved for contagious diseases. As he sits on a cot, he struggles to breathe, his face turning blue. The nurse asks if he's been in close contact with anybody else. Between short rattling breaths, Gitchell tells her he's the mess cook. He's been in contact with everybody. By noon, every bed in the infirmary will be occupied by men plagued with costs, fevers, and body ages. By the end of the month, over one thousand soldiers from Fort Riley will have contracted the mysterious illness. The nurses don't recognize the symptoms. They assume it's a virulent form of pneumonia, perhaps aggravated by the noxious yellow ash cloud that hangs over the camp byproduct of pigmure being burned nearby. But it's not pneumonia. At Albert Gitchell has become the first known victim of a new, highly contagious disease, the result of a mutation of the influenza virus carried by swine. This disease will spread rapidly through America and then the world, bringing suffering and death to millions, Starting with a first reported case discovered on a military base in Kansas, on March eleventh, nineteen eighteen from Neuser in Airship. I'm Lindsay Graham, and this is History day. History is made every day on this podcast. Every day we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world today. Is March eleventh, nineteen eighteen the first reported case of the Spanish flu. It's May nineteen eighteen, two months after the flu outbreak at Fort Riley, a transport ship carrying American soldiers to Europe cuts through the Atlantic Ocean. Inside the cabin, a soldier from the eighty ninth Infantry Division rolls over in his bunk and faces the wall. The ship is cramped and uncomfortable, and the rough ocean makes the young private seasick. He shivers and shuts his eyes. World War I has been raging on the Western Front for four years, but Great Britain and her allies are about to gain a crucial advantage America's military might. When German submarines began sinking US merchant ships in the Atlantic, President Woodrow Wilson decided to respond. He declared war on Germany, and by the following spring, two hundred thousand U S soldiers were being shipped to the battlefields of Western Europe. Aware of the incoming American troops, Germany launched its Spring Offensive, a last ditch effort to push back the Allied advance before the US divisions arrive and tip the balance of the war. But unbeknownst to both the Germans and the Allies, these transport ships from America are carrying a much deadlier weapon than mere artillery. By the time the ship docks in France, the American private Sea sickness has turned into a nasty head cold. He spends the journey to the front line convulsed in coughing fits and racked with shuddering chills, the same symptoms exhibited by the men at Fort Riley, and when he arrives at the trenches of the front lines, he finds them infested by rats and lice. When it rains, men are forced to wade through knee deep rivers of mud. The dreadful conditions weaken the soldier's immune systems. Before long, many of them start complaining of sore throats and raging fevers. Red Cross medics can't identify the cause of these symptoms, so they call the malady Flanders Grip, named after the area of Belgium, in which they're fighting for the soldiers, the disease is just another grim reality of the war, right alongside the guns and poison gas. But as the Allies approach victory on the Western Front, Flanders Grip will spread across Europe and beyond, becoming more deadly as it mutates, until the virus which causes the disease sets off a global pandemic. It's June nineteen eighteen, three months after the outbreak at Fort Riley, five thousand miles away from the Western Front, A ship carrying wounded Indian soldiers docks in the port of Bombay in nineteen eighteen. India is still part of the British Empire, and these men belong to the colonial Indian Army. Most are infantry privates known as sepoy, who were injured in the trenches of France before being sent home on the ship. But in addition to their injuries, these seapoy are carrying an invisible threat, a deadly virus which they caught in the trenches and which will soon sweep across the country within days of the ship's arrival. The first cases of the mysterious virus are recorded in Bombay. It's a densely populated city and the virus quickly spreads here. It becomes known as Bombay fever, and it decimates the populace. By fall. Nearly eight hundred people die from the disease every day, and similar scenes are unfolding around the world. In the bustling West African port city of Freetown, Sierra Leone, the contagion arrives on the merchant vessels carrying goods to and from the British front lines. Four percent of Freetown's population are dead within three weeks. Meanwhile, halfway across the world, in Australia, returning troops complain of dry, rasping costs and persistent fevers. The virus goes on to effect around forty percent of the Australian population and kills at least twelve thousand people. From Japan to Brazil to Finland, no corner of the globe remains uninfected. In the United Kingdom, the virus arrives via Glasgow's shipyards and quickly spreads. Pamphlets and posters are distributed advising people to avoid shaking hands and refrain from spitting. In London City buses are fumigated, and surgical face masks are distributed among factory and office workers. Local councils advise victims to self isolate and to gargle saltwater and potassium carbonate. If that doesn't work, some suggest raw onions and whiskey. Even smoking cigarettes is encouraged to kill germs in the lungs, but unsurprisingly, these remedies do nothing to stop people from dropping dead in the streets. By the end of the pandemic, two hundred and fifty thousand British people will have died. But with World War One still raging, press censorship restricts new stories about the public health emergency. The governments of Britain, France, and the United States know they're on the verge of victory. They don't want to weaken national morale at such a critical juncture, so most of the initial reports about the virus emerged from one of the few European countries that remain neutral during the war, Spain. It's how the disease gets its name, the Spanish Flu. More than one hundred thousand people living in Spain will die from the disease in nineteen eighteen alone, but then a second wave of the pandemic hits in the fall, and the symptoms intensified and the death's holes rise. Experts around the world begin to urge their governments to implement stricter precautions, but many public officials downplay the danger and dismiss public health warnings as needless fear monitoring. In one city in the United States, this careless attitude will have devastating and deadly consequences. It's September twenty eighth, nineteen eighteen, six months after the Spanish flu first appeared. The sun shines brightly over Philadelphia, where a large parade is underway. City officials organize this event to promote the government's Liberty Loans Initiative, a fundraising campaign designed to sell bonds and raise money for the war effort. Prior to the parade, Philadelphi He's public health director, doctor Wilmer Cruzen, expressed concern about a new virus sweeping the country. After the initial outbreak at Fort Riley, Spanish flu died down in the US, but by late September cases are on the rise again as more and more soldiers returned from the Western Front. Ten days ago, a British merchant ship docked in the Navy yard here in Philadelphia. Days later, six hundred sailors fell ill. Doctor Cruzen faced a tough decision advised city officials to cancel the parade or risk spreading the virus. But doctor Crusin knows how important the parade is. It will boost morale and encourage the purchase of war financing bonds. So he didn't put up much of a fight, and this will prove a calamitous mistake. Today, some two hundred thousand Philadelphians throng the sidewalks, waving and cheering as marching bands and colorful floats parade down Broad Street. But in the midst of this jubilation, the contagion races through the crowns and across the city. In less than two weeks, more than four one thousand, five hundred Philadelphians are killed by the virus. The city shuts down completely. Schools and public venues are closed. Volunteers dig mass graves, church bells ring out in mourning. Philadelphia's death toll is the highest in the country, with over seventeen thousand dead by the time the pandemic ends in nineteen nineteen, but no place in America is spared Los Angeles, New York, Pittsburgh, Denver. All across the country, public health officials scrambled to curb the spread of the Spanish flu, frequently butting heads with people who want to downplay the severity of the virus. In the midst of this perilous moment, one public health official will emerge as the most strident voice of caution. But his decision to speak out will cost him. It's early October nineteen eighteen. In Seattle, Washington. A slight bespectacled man waits patiently outside the Mayor's office, his hands folded in his lap. Soon, a secretary pokes her head around the door and says, Mayor Hanson is ready for you.

00:12:01
Speaker 2: Doctor.

00:12:02
Speaker 1: The man is doctor Thomas Tuttle, the public health commissioner for the state of Washington. Despite his own allish appearance and shy demeanor, Tuttle is a somewhat controversial figure. During the smallpox epidemic of the early nineteen hundreds, he drew criticism for recommending mandatory vaccinations, and he issued a sharp rebuke against those who refused to vaccinate. Whereas doctor Tuttle called them anti vaccinationists by October nineteen eighteen. Spanish flu cases are rising dramatically in Washington, and unlike Wilmer Cruzen in Philadelphia, doctor Tuttle is taking decisive action. That's why he's here to see Seattle's Mayor, Oley Hanson. In their meeting, Tuttele advises the mayor to close churches in all public spaces and to issue fines for spitting and for not wearing face masks on street cars. Mayor Hanson knows the measures will be unpopular, but he listens to the doctor, is persuaded by the science and puts preventive measures in place. Meanwhile, Tuttle takes this case to the press. In various publications. He reminds the people of Washington State that the virus will only be curbed with the earnest, conscientious, and intelligent help of every citizen of the state. And for a while, Tuttle's efforts pay off. Washington maintains relatively low rate of infection, but doctor Tuttle's measures are not universally popular. Many in the state ignore his advice. Blaise attitudes are fueled by the position taken by the United States Federal Health Service, which consistently reassures the public that there is no cause for alarm. In Chicago, the Director of Public Health echoes these sentiments, stating that worry kills more people than the disease. But this is far from the truth. Doctor Tuttle knows it. In December nineteen eighteen, with cases on the rise, Tuttle travels to Chicago to attend the national Conference of the American Public Health Association. There he rails against the shortsightedness and in transigence of many of his peers in Earth's stricter enforcement of regulations. Tuttle's words of warning further alienated him from the powers that be In Washington State. In early nineteen nineteen, he's fired from his position as health Commissioner on the basis of his supposedly hard line views. Suddenly, without occupation, he will move to Kansas, where he will take up a new role there on the state Board of Health. Meanwhile, all around the world, doctors remain perplexed by the Spanish flu's origins and struggle to produce a successful vaccine. But of its own accord, the virus will become less deadly as it evolves, until eventually, by nineteen twenty one, fatality rates will return to pre pandemic levels, but by this time the virus is killed between fifty and one hundred million people worldwide. Despite his accomplishments, doctor Tuttle will never understand the epidemiology of the Spanish flu. In one report, he writes, it is very probable we will meet our next epidemic with as lu knowledge of the true nature of the disease as we had in the fall of nineteen eighteen. Still, doctor Tuttle's hard work will not be in vain. His approach to public health guidelines will inform and inspire public policy over one hundred years later, when the world finds itself in the grips of another deadly pandemic. It's January twenty ninth, twenty twenty, one hundred, two years since the outbreak of the Spanish flu. A slight bespectacle doctor stands behind a lectern at a medical conference in Arlington, Virginia. Projected on a screen behind him is the title of his lecture, Coronavirus Infection More than just a common cold. The doctor is discussing the recent emergence in China of a novel strain of the coronavirus stars CoV two and the respiratory disease the virus causes COVID nineteen. The disease has not yet spread from China, but when it does, the world must be ready. Doctor's voice is solemn but measured. He has spent his career studying the preventative measures required to control global pandemics. He knows how difficult it can be to clearly communicate the urgency of caution to a disbelieving public. In two thousand and nine, he and a group of other medical researchers published a study entitled and Historical Antecedent of Community Pandemic Flu Mitigation. The report discussed the H one N one strain of the influenza virus that killed five percent of the world's population between nineteen eighteen and nineteen twenty one, that are known as the Spanish flu. The report cited critical health guidelines, including social distancing, the closure of schools and public spaces, and the use of face masks, all measures implemented by the Commissioner of Public Health in Washington at the time. Doctor Thomas Tuttle, now as doctor Anthony Fauci, delivers his first public address on COVID nineteen he thinks about those first measures recommended by Tuttle in nineteen eighteen, and soon doctor Fauci and other public health advisors across the globe will set out to implement very similar measures to curb this newest pandemic. The Spanish Flu was the deadliest natural disaster of the twentieth century. More people died from the virus than during the four years of World War One, and just like today, the true heroes were the nurses, doctors, and frontline workers who risked their lives for the good of the community. And thanks to measures bravely implemented by the likes of doctor Thomas Tunnell, today's public officials are better equipped to handle public health emergencies as they strive to learn from their mistakes made during the Spanish flu outbreak, which started on March eleventh, nineteen eighteen. Next on History Daily, March twelfth, nineteen fifty seven, American author of dot orm Seuss releases a new book aimed at teaching children to read The Cat in the Hats from Neuser and Airship. This is History Daily hosted, edited and executive produced by me Lindsay Graham. Audio editing and sound sign by Molly Bond music by Lindsay Graham. This episode is written in research by Joe Viner. Executive producers are Stephen Walters for Airship and Pascal Hughes for Nousman