Johnston County during the 1918 Pandemic

By Benjamin Sanderford | Photo courtesy of Johnston County Heritage Center

All was not well in Johnston County in 1918. A new disease was sweeping through the community, one that attacked the respiratory system quickly and with deadly efficiency. They called it “Spanish flu,” but no one really knew where it originated.

By the time this influenza pandemic passed, more than 100 Johnstonians would be dead, and the survivors would be faced with the fragility of their society.

The first recorded victims of the new influenza virus were soldiers at Camp Funston, Kansas, in March. A month later, some 1,100 had fallen sick and 46 had died. The disease then spread to other Army camps, to Europe and to the rest of the world.

The flu symptoms during the early months of the pandemic seemed ordinary — aches, chills, high fever and coughing. However, a second wave spread in the fall. Victims in this phase often died of suffocation as their lungs filled with fluids days or hours after infection. By the first week of October, many authorities, including Johnston’s own County Board of Health, were ordering schools and churches to be shut and all public gathering to be banned. As of Oct. 7, there were 48 known cases in Kenly and nearly 20 in the old Smithfield cotton mill vicinity, which also shut down.

On Oct.15, The Smithfield Herald reported that County Quarantine Officer Eva Hood Hooks, whose doctor husband was serving in Europe, had appointed H.B. Marrow, superintendent of Smithfield Graded Schools, as county supervisor of health.

Marrow was soon busy issuing guidelines and reports to halt the spread of the flu. In one editorial that appeared in the Herald, dated Oct. 22, he lamented “the absolutely indifferent and careless way in which” some people ignored the recommendations of health experts.

In particular, the he noted those who gathered at the drug stores, street corners and the homes of sick friends without wearing masks or using handkerchiefs when they sneezed. Then there were the spitters whose “neighbors are sure to get a full supply of their germs.”

Faced with this nonchalant behavior, Marrow concluded that “unless these conditions are changed I think it will be expedient that strenuous regulations be enacted and enforced” to ensure that the flu “is completely stamped out.”

To that end, he passed along instructions from the State Board of Health. These guidelines recommended, among other things, that “all persons with coughs and colds should be warned to remain at home in bed” and that people “should avoid congregating unnecessarily.”

The neighboring articles illustrated the wisdom of Marrow’s advice. The Herald reported that there had been a total of two deaths thus far in the Four Oaks area, six in and around Kenly and nearly 12 in the Clayton vicinity. Despite assuring readers that the situation in these locales was “improving,” the paper acknowledged that the virus was still spreading.

Consequently, the directors of the North Carolina Warehouse Association agreed at a meeting held in Wilson at the end of October that the warehouses, including Smithfield’s tobacco market, should not reopen on Monday, Nov. 4, as previously planned.

Economic sacrifices like this were necessary, but they also bred impatience. The County Board of Health lifted the quarantine in Smithfield on Nov. 5 too soon. The example of Philadelphia should have been a warning.

Back on Sept. 18, the city held a grand parade to support the Fourth Liberty Loan Drive despite the presence of flu. Ten days later, more than 1,000 Philadelphians were dead. By the time the pandemic ended in March 1919, the death toll had surpassed 15,000.

One of the dead was Hannah Davis, originally of Wilson’s Mills. The Herald reported that her body was returned home for burial on Oct. 22, right next to Marrow’s editorial warning of the dangers of complacency.

Of course, Smithfield had a much smaller population than Philadelphia (roughly 2,000 for Smithfield and 2 million for Philadelphia), but the fact remained that more people fell sick and died than was necessary.

Selma, by contrast, was focused on beating the disease. Prominent citizens organized several committees to oversee every aspect of containing the spread of the influenza virus. The Rev. C.K. Proctor, chairman of the Intelligence Committee, and Finance Committee Chairman E.H. Moser made a house-to-house canvass, marked homes that had flu cases and sent immediate help to them.

Even businessmen in Selma took the pandemic seriously. They cut their hours in order to limit crowds, and two cotton mills closed when the flu gained a foothold near them. The owners realized that short-term economic loss was better than the decimation of their workforce, which About 100 people in Selma became infected, a low figure compared to other Johnston County communities.

Today, Johnston County is once again in the grip of a pandemic. Like the influenza virus of 1918, the coronavirus first detected in 2019 is contagious, deadly and unforgiving.

It has also caused economic pain by forcing governments, businesses and ordinary citizens to make sacrifices in the name of public health. Finally, as during the 1918 pandemic, indifference is the greatest ally of the disease.

We can beat COVID-19 just as our ancestors beat the flu. However, many lives will be saved and the period of economic dislocation will be shorter if we emulate what they did right, and avoid their mistakes.

Benjamin Sanderford, a resident of Clayton, studied social science at UNC Greensboro. He can be reached at benwsanderford@gmail.com.

H.B. Marrow, far right, Superintendent of Smithfield Graded Schools, poses with other faculty members in this photo. Marrow served as County Supervisor of Health during the pandemic in 1918.