In Flew Enza

Excerpt from journal of Orland William Carver Jr. Portland, Oregon, 1976.

Two doctors consult on the porch of a small wood frame house in the Smelter Hill district of Joplin, Missouri. Inside, four young people lie on pallets on the floor of the main room. A fifth child watches from the doorway of a back room. He is thin and pale and doesn't look particularly well himself.

The little house is usually cold, having no insulation to speak of, but the children's mother has tacked blankets over the windows and added extra wood to the fireplace. As a result, the main room is absolutely sweltering. Even so, some of the children shiver on their pallets.

It is 10:30 on Wednesday morning, November 27, 1918. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving day. The Joplin Herald calls for increasing cloudiness today, with a chance of rain tomorrow.

During the last few days these doctors have tried every remedy they can think of, from a special white powder to a contraption called a pulmotor, a portable ventilator housed in a large wooden suitcase. It looks like the grandfather of a modern day sleep apnea machine.

None of their remedies have helped, and now they've escaped to the porch for some fresh air while they discuss what to do next. "Let's try the white powder," murmurs the older doctor. The powder is in his doctor's bag. He plans to mix it with water. The younger doctor will use an eye dropper to dribble this mixture into Susie's mouth.

Susie is not really a child anymore. She is 20, but in Annie's mind, Susie is still her baby girl. Annie hovers, waiting to bring whatever the doctors need. As the doctors shake their heads and talk quietly out on the porch, she begins to pace and wring her hands, silent tears running down her face.

The powder doesn't help. At 11 Susie takes her last breath. Six hours later Clarence dies as well. A neighbor lady comes over to try to comfort the children's mother while they wait for Susie and Clarence to be taken to the morgue, but at this particular point in time, Annie Carver is inconsolable.

Annie's husband Orland is unreliable at best, so the family has become accustomed to sporadic stretches of hunger and homelessness, but the last few months have been rough, even for them. In July they packed up the wagon, hitched up the mules, and started the 220 mile journey from Enid, Oklahoma to Joplin, Missouri.

On the way young Ashton came down with typhoid fever. They were only 20 miles away from Joplin, but Ashton was too sick to travel, and the family was almost out of food. They stopped and asked for help. Kind local residents put them up in an empty house and called a doctor. They stayed for at least two weeks while Ashton recuperated.

Baxter Springs News (Baxter Springs, Kansas) · 30 Aug 1918, Fri · Page 2

Baxter Springs News (Baxter Springs, Kansas) 06 Sep 1918

Baxter Springs News (Baxter Springs, Kansas) - 13 Sep 1918

In mid-September they finally made it to Joplin, rented this house, and got settled. Susie got a position as a telephone operator. Clarence and Orland found work as well. But then, Orland announced that he was leaving. “Mother, children, the government has called me to work in the shipyards in Virginia, to help with the war effort.”

The family was shocked but not totally surprised. Orland had a habit of leaving like this, for days or weeks at a time. None of the kids knew where he went or what he did while he was gone, but they assumed he was working elsewhere or looking for work.

Somewhere during all of this hubbub, daughter Sina Belle complained of illness and took to her bed. A visiting nurse examined her and said that she had tuberculosis. The nurse helped Annie make arrangements to send Sina to the nearby Jasper County Tuberculosis hospital in Webb City.

On November 11 news spread quickly that the war was over. An armistice had been signed with Germany. The older kids stayed out late celebrating. Annie thought this was appropriate under the circumstances. Nearly everybody was out celebrating.

A few days later Susie came home with a cough, Clarence woke up with a fever, and Robby and Willie complained of headaches. They all had the Spanish flu, that super-sized worldwide pandemic that killed so many people in 1918.

During the weeks before they got sick, Annie spent countless hours helping sick neighbors. Now the neighbors helped her, bringing soup on Thanksgiving day and watching after the younger kids while she went alone to the burial.

For those of you who are counting, that's six kids having three scary diseases all within the span of about 90 days. In later years, Annie was to wonder if the kids caught the flu on Armistice day, out in the cold with all the other flu-ridden celebrants. It's hard to know. At the rate this strain was spreading, they could have caught it anywhere.

When my father (Willie) wrote this story down, he called it “The Valley of the Shadow”. He remembered things an 8-year-old would remember. Instead of influenza, the school kids called it “hen flew endways”. They also had a little jump rope chant: “I had a little bird, its name was Enza. I opened the window, and in flew Enza.”

Articles on the subject say that the Spanish flu of 1918 was unique, in that it was particularly hard on the young and the strong. In this case, it took the family's only sources of income. Fortunately Annie was able to find work to tide the family over until Orland returned.

Susan Viola Carver and Clarence Dean Carver are both buried in Fairview cemetery, presumably in pauper's graves.

Aunt Susie, Uncle Clarence, rest in peace.

Joplin News Herald 28 Nov 1918 Page 1

Joplin Globe 28 Nov 1918 Page 4

Notes: 
1) Despite the information in these articles and on their death certificates, Susie and Clarence would have been 20 and 18, respectively. 

2) I found a newspaper article dated Nov 2, 1918, that says both Orland and Clarence were called to Hopewell, Virginia to the munitions plant there. However, Clarence must not have gone.

Joplin News Herald 2 Nov 1918 Page 5