The Jackson County epidemic of 1868
by
Bill Miller for the Mail Tribune
Monday,
March 30th 2020
Though
not a pandemic, smallpox was the scourge of 19th century America. Few diseases
caused such fear and panic when it began to race through a community.
Even though
Englishman Edward Jenner had shown the effectiveness of the smallpox vaccine
over 70 years before the Jackson County outbreak in the winter of 1868, very
few in Southern Oregon had been vaccinated.
The sudden epidemic
killed over 20 men, women and children, and at least three times that number
were infected but recovered.
Four hospitals were
hastily set up outside the city limits and doctors assigned to each. There,
those infected could safely be treated without fear of infecting others.
By New Year’s Day the
town was in a panic.
Sister Mary Francis,
one of the brave Roman Catholic nuns who volunteered to nurse and give comfort
to those who were suffering, told a horrifying account of an infected
3-year-old little girl whose mother had just died.
“I have in my arms
her youngest child,” she wrote. “Her face is as black as my dress, and the
little sufferer, in trying to find a cool place, has rubbed her face on my cape
and left pieces of her decaying flesh on it. Oh! This dreadful disease! No one
except an eyewitness can form any idea of it.”
Two weeks later, the
child died and was buried with her mother.
Jacksonville’s Board
of Trustees passed stringent ordinances to combat the spread of the disease and
established a fine of up to $100 for any violation.
“Each and every
person residing within the town limits who has never been vaccinated or, in the
opinion of a competent physician, is liable to an attack of smallpox, shall
submit to vaccination.”
The town marshal was
ordered to record the name of every person in town, and a statement determining
whether the person had been vaccinated or had previously survived a smallpox
attack.
Physicians were to be
immediately notified and were required to vaccinate anyone on the list who was
“unvaccinated.” The doctor would receive 50 cents for each vaccination, but
would be fined up to $100 if they failed to change clothing after each
vaccination.
Anyone exposed to the
disease was banned in public places; including stores, bars, hotels, “private
houses of amusement,” public gatherings, or even walking down the street.
Funeral processions
of victims through town were not allowed, and mourners at nighttime-only
burials were restricted to family. County residents who died of any infectious
disease were completely barred from burial in the town cemetery on the hill.
On every home or
building where infected persons were living, a visible yellow flag was required
outside, as was a large sign on the door reading “Smallpox.”
The requirements were
so strict that the local newspaper had to apologize for the lack of local news
within its pages.
“Our paper is not
interesting and we know it. No local items, but we can’t help it. The town is
like the grave, but it is not our fault. Yellow flags are to be seen on every
side, and if this issue partakes of the ghastly character of its surroundings,
we are not to blame.”
At the end of
February, it was finally over and the newspaper celebrated.
“We are rejoiced to
say that smallpox has entirely disappeared from this place. Every house in
which cases have occurred has been disinfected and the quarantine flags removed.
We hope it may stay away, but if it should appear again, our people will be apt
to recognize it.”
Writer Bill Miller is
the author of five books, including “History Snoopin’,” a collection of his
previous history columns and stories. Reach him at newsmiller@live.com.
