Smallpox 1947: "People were
terrified"
Public health officials
averted an outbreak with the largest mass vaccination in U.S. history.
By
Victoria Stagg Elliott, AMNews staff.
June 23, 2003.
In February 1947, Eugene Le Bar, a healthy, 47-year-old
merchant, got on a bus in Mexico City, and five days later, arrived in New
York City with a rash and a mild headache. It didn't prevent him from
sightseeing all over the Big Apple. But a few days later, he was sick
enough to be admitted to a hospital.
This tale is the first chapter in the story of how smallpox made its
last appearance in New York City.
It is a classic public health saga: An infectious disease was carried
in by travel and spread throughout the community. Intervention was delayed
by a mistaken diagnosis. But a rigorous response effectively stopped it.
LeBar had been vaccinated against smallpox as a child, so doctors
initially thought his symptoms were the result of an adverse reaction to
the aspirin and other pain killers he took for his headache. But on March
10, LeBar died. By the end of the month several other patients and
hospital workers who had contact with him developed smallpox, according to
the November 1947 American Journal of Public Health.
Ultimately, the outbreak killed two and sickened 12. It was not the
last smallpox appearance on U.S. soil -- that would be in Texas' Rio
Grande Valley two years later. But what makes New York's 1947 episode
notable is the massive and unprecedented public health measures that
effectively contained it. Contacts were traced aggressively. People were
told to get vaccinated. And they did.
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The 1947 smallpox outbreak killed 2 and sickened
12.
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"It's amazing what they managed to do," said Alexandra Lord, PhD, staff
historian for the U.S. Public Health Service.
An outbreak in Seattle two years earlier had killed 20 and shut down
the city . A previous 1901 New York outbreak killed hundreds and sickened
thousands. And according to the public health journal article, without New
York's mass vaccination efforts in 1947, more than 4,000 people would have
been infected and nearly a thousand would have died. Instead, there were
two deaths from the virus and six deaths linked to the vaccine.
"Tragic as these incidents were, it must be borne in mind that had
vaccination not been carried out on such a large scale, there very likely
would have been thousands of cases and hundreds of deaths," noted Israel
Weinstein, MD, then-commissioner of health for New York City, who authored
the journal article.
With today's renewed focus on smallpox as a potential weapon of
bioterrorism, consumer publications and public health officials have
frequently mentioned the 1947 outbreak as a possible model for how the
United States could respond in a worst-case scenario.
A model from the past
In 1947, more than 6 million of the city's 7 million residents
volunteered to be vaccinated in less than a month. According to 1947
New York Times coverage, public and private hospitals vaccinated 1.6
million. Public health clinics and police stations jabbed another 1.9
million. Workplace clinics got 1.2 million, and 650,000 were vaccinated at
school. Private physicians vaccinated 1 million.
People showed up for the vaccine, and the health department arranged
for staff to take care of them. In addition to city employees, 1,100
physicians, 242 clerks and 3,000 other civilian volunteers were recruited
to meet the challenge.
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1,100 physicians were recruited in 1947 to help
vaccinate 7 million New Yorkers.
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"There was a little more urgency then, than there is now," said
Theodore Tuller, MD, regional medical consultant for the Social Security
Administration, who was in his first year as a general practice physician
in 1947. "People lined up all over the place. If they heard you had
vaccine, they were there. ... People were deeply concerned about it."
The process, according to newspaper accounts and memories of doctors
working in New York City at the time, was far from smooth, although it was
successful. Diagnosis of Le Bar, the index patient, was completed
retrospectively, and public health historians say this situation would be
difficult to avoid.
"Early on in smallpox, the clinical diagnosis is difficult," said
Judith Leavitt, PhD, professor of medical history at the University of
Wisconsin in Madison. "And a lot of the doctors had never seen a case."
But once the diagnosis was made, an extensive information campaign was
launched. In post-World War II America, health officials were able to
recall recently dismissed air-raid wardens and other civilian defense
workers to canvas door-to-door and convince people to get vaccinated.
The health department passed out buttons with a simple message: "Be
safe. Be sure. Get vaccinated." The word also went out over the radio and
in newspapers. Mayor William O'Dwyer posed for photos while he received
the vaccine. Even President Harry S. Truman publicly received his
vaccination before visiting the city.
How they did it
Health centers, city hospitals and police stations -- 179 sites
citywide -- were open almost nonstop to give the vaccine, which was free.
Students could get their shots at school. Workers could get it on the job.
"It was very, very convenient," said Dr. Lord. "People didn't have to
travel or make an appointment."
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In 1947, 85% of New York City residents were
vaccinated for smallpox in less than a month.
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Thousands of vaccinations were provided per day, with a half-million on
April 17 alone.
"We worked around the clock, 24 hours a day, giving smallpox
vaccinations," said David Annunziato, MD, who was an intern at St. John's
Hospital in Brooklyn and worked three or four 24-hour shifts providing
vaccinations in April 1947. "When you're a young house officer nothing is
boring."
His hospital alone processed 40 to 50 people an hour. Dr. Annunziato
remembers working fast. Recipients were prepped by nurses and rapidly
filed through the clinic.
"They were all prepped by nurses, sleeves rolled up, arms prepped with
acetone, and the nurses would hand you a vial of vaccine and a needle,"
said Dr. Annunziato, who also sits on the historical archive committee of
the American Academy of Pediatrics. "You do it, and it's gone. It was an
assembly line."
The vaccine, however, required more skill to deliver then, and the city
was constantly putting out the call for doctors to come forward and help.
Special needles that made the procedure easier and more efficient had not
yet been introduced. In the 1940s, a drop of vaccine was placed on the
recipient's arm and then scratched into the skin with a regular needle.
"Until the development of the bifurcated needle in the 1960s,
vaccinating for smallpox was very difficult and required a fair amount of
training and knowledge," said Dr. Lord.
But in some ways, the process was simpler. There wasn't the extensive
screening process that exists today. Many immune-compromising conditions
that now can make the vaccine deadly were unknown or didn't exist.
"We did a very minimal screening. We asked them if they had eczema, and
most of them said no," said Dr. Annunziato, who is now director of
pediatric education at Nassau University Medical Center in New York state.
"We didn't ask if they had AIDS. There was no AIDS."
Recipients were not called back to determine if the vaccine actually
"took." And nearly all were re-vaccinees -- they just hadn't received the
vaccine recently.
But while the city had the facilities and the message, it did not have
enough vaccine. It started out with 250,000 doses and ordered large
amounts to arrive as soon as possible. Doses couldn't be made fast enough,
and the city quickly ran out. The Army, Navy and Public Health Service
sent several thousand units, and manufacturers were granted special
permission to package in 50-dose vials rather than the usual 10-dose
vials. Drug companies kept their factories running nonstop.
Clinic shortages were brief because the city focused on fulfilling
their needs, sometimes to the detriment of solo physicians, who had a hard
time getting the vaccine. The 50-dose vials were reserved for the large
temporary clinics.
"I remember having difficulty getting the vaccine," said Dr. Tuller.
"Someone helped me out and got me some, and I did vaccinate employees of a
few businesses in the area."
There were also instances of fraud. The Times said a nurse was
sentenced to six months for vaccinating 500 people with water. In
addition, some clinic patients gave false names or contact information,
making follow-up impossible.
"Even in those days, we had illegal aliens," said Dr. Annunziato.
But while modern public health officials look to successful campaigns
like this to plan how to do it again, historians say the factors that
converged to make it possible may not be easy to duplicate. In 1947, the
anti-vaccine movement was not powerful. And, despite the end of the war,
many people were still in the military or linked to war-effort volunteer
organizations. They could be called on to run the clinics. And in the
post-war era, people were also more willing to follow government advice.
"If it had to happen and you had to vaccinate a population, the 1940s
was probably the right period to do it," said Dr. Lord.
Local public health officials got everyone involved in the process,
including federal and state governments, aid organizations such as the Red
Cross, drug companies and community organizations. They also used
education and volunteerism rather than coercion. And they didn't make
getting the vaccine mandatory.
The public health system was strong, backed by law enforcement, when
necessary, and kept the public informed. When they had vaccine, the health
department told people to line up. When they ran out, they announced that
too.
"The health department really respected the public's need to know,"
said Dr. Leavitt, "They weren't putting a spin on it. And the public
health infrastructure was in extremely good shape and gained support by
reaching deep into community networks."
Physicians working at the time credit the success of the effort to
something much simpler: fear. Smallpox hadn't been seen in New York City
in decades, but it was still a very real threat and endemic in much of the
world.
"People were terrified," said James Dick, MD, who was a resident at the
Postgraduate Medical School and Hospital in New York. He administered the
vaccine to his regular patients at the time, although he did not
participate in the mass vaccinations. "People went and got [vaccinated.]"