Bit of HiStory
By Pat Jollota
A
A century ago, in October 1918, The Great War was coming to an end. Across Europe, though, soldiers and civilians alike were falling ill and dying within hours or days. Though it most likely did not originate in Spain, people started calling it the Spanish Flu because the first news of it came from Spain, a nation uninvolved in the war. When the disease hit New York, many suspected it to be a poison gas attack, as victims suffocated and died. But this was no act of war. It was an act of nature. The flu crossed the country in just over a week. In Seattle, nearly two thousand people collapsed and died. At first, down south in Vancouver, we told ourselves that we were safe; we lived in a clean city with fresh air and water. Just eat healthy, sleep with your windows open, and gargle with peroxide. But Vancouver’s city health officer and the Army medical officer were gravely concerned. They appealed to the City Council to shut the city down, to close everything but restaurants. Accordingly, doors closed. The streets were emptied. They were one day too late. A soldier’s wife in the Fort Vancouver barracks died of the flu. The next day there were six cases, the next day 40. We soon lost count. Citizens of Camas, Battle Ground, and Ridgefield also began to hear the wails of the bereaved.
10
When young Army doctor Mark Lieser died, terror set in. Quarantine signs were posted on doors across town. The Columbian went down to four pages, but there was no one to deliver it. Mothers kept their children at home. Churches were empty. Bible verses appeared in the paper with the admonition to “Preach yourself a sermon.” The Army hospital filled, St Joseph’s Hospital reached capacity. The parish hall at downtown’s St. James Catholic Church became a hospital. The newly built Liberty Court Apartments were converted as well. The city mandated gauze masks of at least six layers for everyone entering any government building. The Columbian decried the masks. We could cross the street at the sight of a quarantine sign and pretend that all was well; the masks were a constant reminder that all was not. For a time, the front page of the paper consisted solely of obituaries. In early November, the epidemic eased. There were fewer new cases. On Armistice Day, November 11, there were no celebrations; the City quarantine would be lifted November 14 for a belated observance. The epidemic was over. There would be sporadic cases through the 1920s, but the worst was done.
Vancouver Family Magazine • www.vancouverfamilymagazine.com • November 2018
continued on next page