In the grip of indiscriminate flu
The war was over, but influenza raged. It was indiscriminate and unforgiving as it took hold in Manawatu¯.
Saturday, November 16, 1918: The woman at the desk in Palmerston North’s records office looked up as a small boy walked in.
Shyly, he said he wanted to make arrangements for a funeral.
‘‘Why didn’t your father come along?’’ she asked. ‘‘Father’s dead.’’
‘‘Your mother, then?’’ ‘‘She’s dead too.’’ Another question revealed his brothers and sisters were all deathly sick.
The Manawatu¯ Standard reported the incident, noting that the small boy had ‘‘sturdily set about doing whatever was necessary’’.
His was just one of many stories flying around the borough in those dark months.
The Great War was over. But the euphoria of Armistice, a few days earlier, was fading as the influenza pandemic hit hard here and throughout New Zealand.
No-one seemed safe – at any age or state of health.
That Saturday, the morning paper, the Manawatu¯ Times, published a list of recommended supplies for attacking flu germs. It declared ‘‘prices have been cut to the lowest’’ on traditional standbys such as Jeyes Fluid, carbolic soap, tar soap, toilet vinegar and Lifebuoy soap.
In Palmerston North, the inhalation chamber at the Opera House was open from 9am to 9pm daily for 60 people at a time to be sprayed with zinc sulphate, another hoped-for remedy.
Mayor James Nash and his wife Elizabeth worked tirelessly organising helpers, visiting sufferers in hospital and at Ma¯ ori settlements around the borough, and boosting public morale.
On Monday, November 18, in response to the mayor’s appeal, volunteers met in the borough council chambers, ‘‘only too eager to assist in a house-to-house campaign’’.
Leo Collinson, co-owner of Collinson and Cunninghame’s department store, presided. A plan was made to organise Palmerston North into seven blocks, with a superintendent for each. The houses in each block would be canvassed by male and female volunteers, 10-20 to a block, on that same day, so householders could quickly get the help they needed.
News from other centres was disturbing – many deaths and the virtual closure of some towns. Even several members of Parliament were ‘‘laid up’’ in Wellington.
In Palmerston North: ‘‘All day
. . . the council depot, the headquarters of the organisation for relief of the sick, was busy. The mayoress and her staff are now being assisted by volunteers, while multitudinous odds and ends are being performed by the Terrace End Boy Scouts. A small army of motor cars did splendid service yesterday in conveying comforts to stricken families in various parts of town,’’ the Times reported.
Prominent local women donated food of all kinds, fresh linen and money to the public hospital, where an annexe adjoining the main building had been constructed to house the desperately ill.
Now, it was filling up, and the mayor’s appeal for workmen to build a second annexe got a quick response from carpenters and volunteers. An emergency hospital was also opened in the Foresters’ Hall in Princess St.
The Minister of Public Health, GW Russell, noted ‘‘the epidemic is . . . taking a heavy toll from the native race and urgent appeals are being received from many districts for assistance for the Ma¯ ori, all of whom are being followed up as rapidly as possible, with any medical assistance available’’.
At Dunedin university, all fourth and fifth-year medical students had been requisitioned to help in various districts. Local shops were running out of oranges and lemons.
The Government announced: ‘‘A warrant has been issued to all police officers and persons acting under their direction to seize and take possession on behalf of His Majesty all oranges and lemons within the city of Wellington and adjoining boroughs. If a dealer in fruit refuses to sell to any person at or under the maximum price, such person is requested to communicate with police so immediate steps may be taken against the offender . . . Any dealer trying to hold back fruit for better prices will have his fruit immediately requisitioned under the warrant.’’
It was said one Wellington fruiterer was offered four shillings for a single lemon – but he’d already sold out.
In Palmerston North, the
Standard reported: ‘‘The other day a man went to a house where several fine lemon trees were in full fruit. He said he was buying lemons for the Red Cross and the lady offered to give them to him for nothing. ‘No’, he said, ‘I’ll give you sixpence a dozen’. So the lady almost stripped her trees and gave them to him. He paid her and went away. Later a neighbour who also had lemons said she was suspicious of that man, for he had bought hers at two shillings a dozen.
‘‘HD Robertson, the Red Cross secretary, says the Red Cross had not authorised anyone to buy or receive gifts of lemons.
‘‘The story is also told – with doubtful truth – of a little girl who went to a place and asked for lemons off the trees, for sick people. She offered a shilling and was given a couple of dozen. [Apparently] she sold them later to a fruit man.’’
The hospital’s matron of 11 years, Miss Mary Mclagan, was reported ‘‘somewhat indisposed, owing to the strain of the past week’’. There were 128 new cases at the hospital, although not all were classed as influenza.
Public responses to pleas for help were mixed. Some healthy families refused to help the sick, fearing infection. Others saw notes for help on doors or windows, made sufferers comfortable and alerted authorities.
By the time the pandemic finally faded away, it had killed 103 people in Palmerston North, and almost 9000 New Zealanders had died. Worldwide, more people perished from the flu than in the Great War. But as in the past, Palmerstonians had come through, battered but unbroken.