The Influenza Epidemic of 1918
in Boone-Duden Country
by Bob Brail
by Bob Brail
Epidemic
is terrifying word. Even in our modern
world with all its medical knowledge, the word epidemic reminds us of
how uncertain life is and how quickly death may come. When we hear it, we quickly think of diseases
like the bubonic plague, or Black Death, of the Middle Ages, or today’s best
known epidemic, AIDS.
In the fall
of 1918 the most deadly epidemic this world has ever known began rampaging from
continent to continent, leaving at least fifty million of the world’s 1.8
billion people dead in its wake, the majority of them dying in a six month
period. In contrast, the AIDS epidemic
has been responsible for somewhat more than half
that number of deaths in a thirty year
period although the world’s population has
more than tripled since 1918.
This
epidemic was the 1918 influenza outbreak.
Although its most deadly work was done in and near the larger cities of
the world, even rural communities such as those found in the Boone-Duden area
would eventually be touched by its horror.
The 1918
influenza epidemic probably had its beginning in Kansas,
but certainly was spread through American troop movements of World War I. The first accounts of the deaths came from
military encampments throughout the United
States, from which thousands of infected
soldiers were shipped to the front in Europe, thereby
ensuring the eventual spread of the disease to the rest of the world. The illness had especially gruesome symptoms:
“Flu victims, often young people, fell ill and died within days (sometimes
hours) as they drowned on a frothy, bloody fluid that filled their lungs. The stricken suffered a general weakness
usually comprised of sore muscles and aches in their heads and backs combined
with fevers up to 105 degrees. They also
endured respiratory distress, each breath a struggle, with their faces and
limbs eventually turning gray then blue/purple from lack of oxygen.”
Midwesterners,
including residents of Boone-Duden country, must have experienced a great sense
of dread as they learned about the wave of death that was headed their
direction. Perhaps the hardest hit city
in America was Philadelphia. In early October Harry Remer, a resident of St.
Charles, wrote his mother from Philadelphia
that 30,000 people were ill from influenza.
All schools, churches, and other public places had been closed, and
hundreds of shipyard workers were ill with the deadly flu. One historian describes the outbreak in Philadelphia
as an explosion. In a little more than one week in early October, the epidemic
grew in Philadelphia from a couple of deaths a day and a few hundred ill to hundreds of deaths daily and hundreds of thousands ill. Bodies accumulated because gravediggers and
undertakers were also being sickened and killed by the disease. A shortage of coffins soon resulted; “bodies
stacked up . . . stacked up out to the buried. . . . They couldn’t bury
them.” Doctors and nurses died as they
heroically tried to stop the onslaught.
The epidemic
reached St. Louis in the first days
of October. By October 8, 164 St. Louisans had been infected and
nine had died in the previous twenty-four hours. On that day, all movie theaters, playhouses,
churches, and lodges in St. Louis
were closed; they did not reopen until mid-November. All commercial businesses were closed on
November 9 and remained so for four days; the Post-Dispatch called it a
“virtual suspension of . . . commercial life.”
The number of deaths in St. Louis
more than tripled in the last three months of 1918.
Influenza
roared into the town of St. Charles
about the same time it began to infest St. Louis. The St. Charles Cosmos-Monitor
reported the city’s first influenza death on October 9, Leon Blankenkship, a
station agent for the CB & Q Railroad.
On October 10, St. Charles
closed all schools, churches, and other public gathering places. By October
16, 200 citizens were infected.
The City Board of Health ordered a quarantine of all influenza
cases. Public funerals and open caskets
were banned. As the newspaper stated,
“Wise people will keep away from crowds.”
On October
19, the St. Charles County Board of Health decided not to issue quarantine
orders for the county. The county
physician described precautions against influenza in the rural areas as
“useless.” By the middle of October,
Wentzville closed its schools. The village
of Augusta temporarily closed its
businesses. The epidemic worked quickly,
and by early November health officials reported fewer new cases, although those
already infected continued to die. By
November 20, Cosmos-Monitor’s Hamburg
correspondent reported, “All parties having influenza are up and about again in
this town,” and on December 11, its O’Fallon correspondent wrote, “The flu has
about run its course here.” Deaths from
influenza, however, continued until March.
A study of
death certificates issued in St. Charles
and Warren Counties
during the influenza epidemic of 1918 and for one year earlier than the
epidemic illustrates just how deadly this disease was to Boone-Duden
country. Although sixty-eight deaths
pales in comparison to the tens of millions who died elsewhere because of
influenza, one begins to understand the horror these people experienced upon
learning that almost no one had died of the disease one year earlier:
Boone-Duden Area Deaths from Influenza Epidemic
Oct. 1918-Mar. 1919 Oct. 1917-Mar. 1918
St. Charles County Townships
Portage
Des Sioux 3 0
St.
Charles 27
1
Cuivre 12 0
Dardenne 14 1
Callaway 5 0
Femme Osage 6 0
Warren County Townships
Charrette 1 0
Total Area Influenza Deaths 68 2
Even Boone-Duden
county in rural St. Charles County,
with its relatively small population, had too many tragedies resulting from
influenza. On October 31, Ben and Anna
Griesenaur of Dardenne Township,
both thirty-four years old, died of influenza, leaving four children ranging in
age from seven to three months. On
November 14, George Peters lost his wife Agnes.
Mrs. George Price, age thirty-four, who lived near Enterprise
School with her husband and four
children, was killed by influenza. The
day after Christmas twenty-one year old Willie Sutton was buried in the Thomas
Howell Cemetery. In Callaway
Township, fourteen year old Stella
Betchel succumbed to the disease on November 2.
Three weeks later her ten year old sister, Lucy, also died. Fred and Lizzie Muencher, also of Callaway
Township, lost their premature baby
on November 7 because Lizzie was ill with influenza; twelve days later the
disease also took Lizzie. Three days
before Christmas, twenty-six year old Rena Zollmann, married just ten months
and the mother of a baby, died in New Melle.
Some of the
Boone-Duden area’s latest influenza deaths occurred in Femme
Osage Township
in Augusta. There in February Hubert Meyer, a thirty-six
year old foreman at the Klondike sand pit, died, and on March 12, Herman
Kessler, a thirty-year old barber and bartender, died. August and Rosina Theilemann lost their eight
year old daugher Thekla, in February. Three
African American residents of Augusta
also died during the epidemic: Headley Mozee, Robert Mosely, and Madory Teeter.
As much as
one-third of the world’s population was infected by influenza during the
outbreak that began in 1918. Although
rural St. Charles County
was fairly isolated then, it too was ravaged by this deadly disease. Even the tiny villages and farms of
Boone-Duden country could not hide from this tragedy.
Sources: Augusta’s Harmony (Anita Mallinckrodt); Boats,
Trains, and Immunity (journals.hil.unb.ca\index.php); Federal Reserve
Bank of St. Louis (www.stlouisfed.org);
The Great Influenza (John M. Barry); Missouri Death Certificates
(www.sos.mo.gov/archives); The
St. Charles Cosmos Monitor (microfilm); The St. Louis Post-Dispatch
(ProQuest Historical Newspapers).