Death once stalked Fort Worth neighborhoods and schools. We’re not talking about crime.
Smallpox, typhoid, and yellow fever were the most dreaded scourges of the 19th century. They seemed to come out of nowhere, and there was no known cure for typhoid or yellow fever. (Vaccination for smallpox had been around for decades.)
There was general agreement that personal hygiene and good public sanitation could stave off the diseases, if not entirely eliminate them. In the event disease struck, quarantine ("pest houses") and fumigation were the accepted treatments. Beyond that, there was only prayer.
The cause of each disease was different. Smallpox is a highly contagious viral disease spread by human contact. Vaccination can prevent it but can't treat it once it has taken hold. Typhoid is a highly contagious bacterial disease contracted through contact with human excrement in food and drinking water. It is also transmitted by human carriers who may themselves show no symptoms. In 1899, the Fort Worth Record and Register declared typhoid "the most dreaded of all fevers."
Yellow fever, another viral disease, was believed to be contracted from "miasma" (foul air), although, like malaria, it was actually mosquito-borne. It got its name from causing jaundice — thus the yellow pallor of the victim — leading to kidney failure and ultimately death. Quacks promoted useless cures like "Simmons Liver Regulator," "Brown's Iron Bitters," and "Veno's Curative Syrup" with fantastical claims and "sold by all druggists."
Each of these diseases was largely a puzzlement to medical science of the day. Until antibiotics were discovered in the 20th century, the best doctors could do with their little black bags was make the sufferer of a bacterial disease comfortable. And viral diseases remained untreatable even after the discovery of antibiotics.
Smallpox outbreaks hit Fort Worth
For all its healthy climate and small population, Fort Worth was just as subject to outbreaks of these diseases as any other city. Major smallpox outbreaks hit Fort Worth in 1881, 1882, 1886, 1888, 1889, and 1901. They seemed to be a summer phenomenon, but could strike in any season.
The public's response ranged from denial, to panic, to desperate measures. When identified, cases were sent to the pest house on the outskirts of town, where they lingered under horrible conditions until freed one way or another. The pest house was a virtual sentence of death. In addition, yellow warning flags were put up over houses that had smallpox. Early sufferers and those not infected rushed to get vaccinated, causing the vaccine supply to run out in 1886. Adding insult to injury, Dallas closed its borders to all travelers coming from Fort Worth that year.
During the smallpox epidemic in 1888, the records of undertaker G.L. Gause show he was busy, burying victims on Aug. 6, 11, 16, and 21. Because all of them were poor, their burials were paid for by the city, $7.25 in all. That same month Gause also buried "Mrs. Root" (cause of death unknown) in grand style — a $66 funeral.
Smallpox was the most frequent epidemic, which is ironic because it was the only one that could be prevented with the medical knowledge of the day. The 1886 outbreak was the worst and came just a year after an outbreak of dengue fever (also transmitted by mosquitoes).
Epidemics were not just bad for public health; they were also bad for business. When outbreaks of contagious diseases occurred, shoppers stayed home, visitors stayed away, and other communities placed a quarantine on trains coming from an infected city. For this reason, Fort Worth authorities played down outbreaks, and the city's newspapers were slow to report cases until the numbers could no longer be ignored.
Schools were a hotbed of disease because of the close quarters and vulnerable youth. As soon as a contagious disease was recognized, the schools were closed. Jails were another problem because of the close quarters and poor hygiene. Reflecting class divisions, those sent to the pest house were the poorest of the poor. Medical treatment at the pest house consisted of an occasional doctor's visit, with volunteers doing what they could the rest of the time. Upper class families kept their sick at home and treated them themselves.
When smallpox erupted among the prisoners in the county jail in April 1906, those who were visibly suffering were moved to the pest house regardless of their crime. Those exposed but not showing symptoms were isolated in the infirmary and watched. Newly elected Sheriff Tom Wood ordered the cell blocks fumigated and announced, "Nothing will be left undone to protect the other prisoners from infection."
Yellow fever scare in Texas
Yellow fever (aka, "yellow jack") panicked Fort Worth just once, in 1897. It was a tropical disease usually confined to low-lying coastal areas and states bordering on the Mississippi River, but in 1897 it reached Texas, erupting in Houston and Galveston. Newspapers reported it also in north Texas. The common belief was that it was transmitted by infected clothing. (Only a few years later it was connected to mosquitoes.)
Counties around the state put quarantines in place, making travel difficult if not impossible. Fort Worth girded itself by appointing its first board of health, chaired by Dr. Bacon Saunders. The board met regularly with Mayor B.B. Paddock throughout the summer, and with no local cases being reported, members devoted themselves to squelching rumors spread by "alarmists." Those included an unidentified visitor from Dallas who claimed the Dallas Times-Herald had reported eight cases of yellow fever in Fort Worth. An investigation proved the rumor to be "absolutely without foundation."
On Oct. 13, the board of health issued the following statement: "There is not now, nor has there been at any time in Fort Worth a case of sickness that gives rise to the faintest suspicion of yellow fever." Every county except Wharton and Jackson opened their borders to regular rail service. The "yellow fever scare" in north Texas had passed. There would be no pest houses and mass burials.
Making public health a full-time job of both county and city officials coupled with medical breakthroughs gradually eased the public's mind about the most dreaded diseases. In 1908, city fathers declared Fort Worth "completely free" of typhoid fever, ignoring the fact that coming in contact with contaminated food or water could cause another outbreak at any time.
In 1912, with the Fat Stock Show about to open, rumor circulated that Fort Worth was in the grip of a smallpox epidemic. The Record and Register rushed to assure people around the state that there were "No Epidemics in Fort Worth." The rumor was blamed on "scandal mongers and gossips" or perhaps a jealous rival city. The Star-Telegram chimed in, saying, "It would take something far more serious than a smallpox epidemic to keep the cattlemen and other visitors away."
City fathers brought in the state health officer, Dr. Ralph Steiner, who declared "emphatically" that there was "no smallpox epidemic in Fort Worth and no danger of any if the proper and usual precautions are taken." In the end, however, reported smallpox cases plus an outbreak of meningitis kept thousands away, hitting the Stock Show and the town's merchants heavily in the pocketbook.
A few months later, Dallas experienced a smallpox outbreak among the Black population. Alarmed, Fort Worth fathers rushed to use bond money raised in 1911 for a new public hospital (John Peter Smith), thus demonstrating Fort Worth's commitment to public health. The expenditure did not come without opposition. Some citizens argued the city did not need a big, expensive hospital; all it needed was a "properly isolated" pest house.
In a few years, Fort Worthers had more urgent concerns to worry about: World War I came along in 1914, followed by National Prohibition five years later. Public health also took a back seat to the Roaring Twenties and the Great Depression. Lurking in the shadows, however, were tuberculosis and polio, the newest scourges to grab headlines.
