About Connections: Love it or hate it, history is a map. Those who hate history think it irrelevant; many who love history think it escapism. In truth, history is the clearest road map to how we got here: America in the twenty-first century.
Will the Zika virus become a pandemic in the United States? And if so, will it find its way to The Berkshires?
Probably not: there are only 52 cases in the United States, and of those only two are in Massachusetts. Densely populated areas are always more vulnerable to the spread of disease than the sparsely populated. Besides, we have folks running for state office who can’t find the Berkshires.
On the other hand, 16 of the cases are in Florida – a direct travel corridor with Berkshire County (as yet no cases reported in New York). And if a virus of epidemic proportions finds Berkshire County, whether Zika or another, it will not be the first time.
In 1918 the Spanish Flu pandemic killed 5 percent of the world’s population. To say they didn’t know what hit them is a precisely accurate statement. Five percent of the world’s population in 1918 was 20 million people dead in a trice.
Of the 20 million 500,000 deaths were in the United States, and of those 351 died in Pittsfield, 41 in Lee, and four in Stockbridge. Elsewhere in Berkshire County statistics were not as carefully kept and the number would only be a guess.
The distance from urban America, the mountains, the sparse population, none protected the Berkshire from the flu. In fact, the total number of cases, not deaths, mirrored the world wide percentage: 4.9 percent of Berkshire residents fell ill with Spanish Flu.
It was September 1918. Newspapers carried the story of an overwhelming number of cases of flu (alternately called grip) in Boston and on nearby military bases. Attention, however, was focused on the war not on disease. The fact that more people were killed by the Spanish Flu than by First World War did not alter the public’s focus.
Local papers mentioned the flu – on page 10. Newsmen predicted the flu would not travel as far as The Berkshires. The first case was reported in Pittsfield on September 19; the second in Great Barrington on September 22. On the 24th there were 24 cases in Pittsfield alone.
In days, sickness was followed by death. On the 22nd: a man and a woman, both civilians, died in Pittsfield; two soldiers one from New Ashford and one from Savoy died the next day. Still, Pittsfield officials were loath to alert the public.
There were at least two responsible reasons why it took so long to warn the public and take steps. First, it was not considered prudent to alarm people. Panic would not help the situation. Second, there was no cure and indeed no treatment for the flu. A cool cloth and a kind word, perhaps a cup of tea, were all medical science had to offer.
The Commonwealth Commissioner of Health released a statement: “We advise that local boards counsel calmness and moderation in treatment of this outbreak which in all probability is transitory in nature.”
So not much was said and little was done until the disease spread exponentially. It was like a wild fire – like flame through dry grass. In one week, the number of afflicted grew from one to 72. The affected area spread from Pittsfield north to North Adams and south as far as Stockbridge. The deaths climbed from one to ten in that period. Pittsfield acted.
They advised people to stay home and not attend any public gatherings including schools, churches and public entertainments. Still, they sounded optimistic: the disease had peaked, they thought, and was running its course. It would be gone in just days.
It wasn’t. In another week, the number of cases jumped dramatically from 72 to 341. It was clear to county officials that not all cases were being reported and equally clear this was a crisis. In mid-October, regulations were instituted to contain the spread. Reporting was mandatory as was isolation of sick patients; masks must be worn; schools were closed and all public gatherings including church services were prohibited. When the Catholics refused to cancel Mass, officials shrugged and merely asked priests to keep the service short – omit the sermon.
The hospitals were full to capacity and it seemed not one more patient could be served when the number of sick jumped from 341 to over 700. In Pittsfield hospital tents were pitched. It was fall in the Berkshires and the nights were chilly. There was no way to heat the tents so they put heating pads in the beds.
The number continued to rise until there were not enough doctors or nurses or beds. The state allocated $100,000 for extra duty by doctors and nurses but there were no extra doctors or nurses to pay. Those who suffered any other illnesses, who were not contagious, were moved to private homes or public spaces. Volunteers pitched in. Everyone, not paralyzed with fear of the disease, rolled up their sleeves. Still, the march of the flu through Berkshire County was relentless. The sick were warehoused, and in the end there were not enough coffins, and the dead were stacked.
Then – as quickly as it had come — the epidemic was gone. On November 11, 1918 Germany surrendered and so it seemed did the Spanish Flu. In its wake the final count was: 1,900 people in Pittsfield sick and 396 dead.
