Learning little from 1918
It was the boat to France, his family said. That’s what did him in.
Lester H. Thompson was a mechanic in New Haven with his whole life ahead of him, but World War I beckoned, and a day before his 25th birthday, he left home.
Thompson was assigned to the 807th Pioneer Regiment. He sailed for France to join the 200,000 African Americans sent to Europe to fight.
Somewhere on that passage, his mother, Ida E. Thompson, told a local paper, Thompson developed a nagging cough.
About the same time Thompson was coming down with what was thought to be a cold, board of health members in his hometown met to discuss 14 cases of a new influenza reported in town. A week later, there were 77 patients, and isolation beds began filling faster than they could be created. Absenteeism in city schools shot to 20 percent. Movie theaters were ordered to increase ventilation, and ban customers who showed symptoms of the flu.
Aided by a combination of ignorance about how viruses worked, oh- so- American optimism (“We can lick this!”), and craven political maneuvering, the so- called “Spanish flu” ( actually detected first in Kansas) radiated from ports and military installations. The flu would eventually infect 500 million people, or more than a quarter of the world’s population, including 675,000 Americans.
Meanwhile, far from home, Private Thompson’s symptoms worsened and the sad word came back to Mrs.
Thompson on Sperry Street that her son died Oct. 15, 1918.
Private Thompson is buried in Grave No. 5365 at Evergreen Cemetery, and his name is on New Haven Green’s flagpole memorial that honors the World War I dead.
Perhaps this sounds familiar: For months prior to the soldier’s death, the virus’ drumbeats sounded far away, and the threat was deemed minimal enough that people made jokes. An August 1918 Norwich Bulletin carried a story out of New York that advised “osculatory restraint.” The article suggested people kiss through a handkerchief to avoid infection.
As infection rates rose, the numbers were clouded by an air of disbelief. Just two weeks after the state’s first case was recorded, another Bulletin article carried the hopeful headline, “Influenza Epidemic On the Wane.”
Only it wasn’t, not by far. The month after that headline, 5,000 people died.
From the beginning of our modern- day pandemic, soon- to- be- former President Donald Trump has insisted that we’ve turned a corner, or that one day the virus would magically disappear. Only it hasn’t and it won’t. Science can be magical, but science isn’t magic. Viruses respond to vaccines and best practices, not bluster and lies.
Despite what we know about best practices — mask up, y’all — Connecticut citizen whine about wearing masks, bemoan the loss of their night life, and equate “freedom” with “freedom to infect and be infected.”
Then, as now, people who knew better downplayed the pandemic’s effects. As with Trump — currently distracted by rewriting the recent history of the recent presidential election, which he lost — President Woodrow Wilson refused to take effective measures to halt the spread among military personnel, and by the end of 1918, 45,000 soldiers were dead.
Political obstinance has consequences, and they’re often dire. This past week, the U. S. passed the saddest of markers. Now more than 250,000 people have died from the coronavirus, yet some governors still refuse to implement even minimal measures to control the spread, thereby endangering those of us with governors who’ve been paying attention.
Without a nationwide plan, we have created what amounts to a no- peeing section in the communal swimming pool. Neither viruses nor urine works that way. Instead, some political leaders fret the economy, which leads one to wonder: What should be the protocol for people who drop dead of the virus while Christmas shopping? Does one simply step over the carcass, or will there be a special phone number to call? Freedom! And capitalism!
So here we are at Thanksgiving. In October, Dr. Robert C. Redfield, Centers for Disease Control and Prevention director, said small gatherings have become the biggest petri dishes for the virus’ spread. Families who normally gather around a table will gather, instead, for a Zoom meeting — or they will if they love one another.
Once again, we are entering a holiday season led by criminally negligent leaders at whose feet the bodies must be laid. Local libraries are shutting their doors. Schools, as well. The positivity rates rise, the warning signs go from orange to red. We are told there are rough waters ahead. So get those Christmas lights up early. Mask up. Socially distance. Wash your hands. Let us take heart that as bitter a pill as this is to swallow, we can do this. We’ve done this before, and we will do it again, together.