Anne Budgell - We all expected to die : Spanish Influenza in Labrador, 1918-1919

Advance praise for We All Expected to Die:

Over the last 100 years, science and medicine have advanced considerably and much has been learned about influenza viruses from how novel viruses emerge to how pandemics can seed and spread. However, our understanding of both the immediate and the intergenerational impact of the Great Pandemic could not be complete without an equally rich understanding of the local community and population context. Anne Budgells meticulous research about the geographic isolation, and the socio-cultural and political environment that was Labrador (and the world around it) 100 years ago, provides the essential context that allows us to interpret the statistics and understand the severe and indelible impact of the 1918 pandemic. Drawing from a wealth of historical sources, she reveals the impact of colonialism and racism, including disruption of traditional lifestyles of the Inuit and settlers of Labrador. We cannot predict whether a pandemic of the same magnitude as 1918 will occur again; however, historic accounts such as this one highlight the impact of individual and societal factors on influenza severity. Time has not erased these health and social disparities, and if we are to be better prepared for the next pandemic, they are as important to address and plan for as are diagnostics, vaccines, and antiviral treatments.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I have had kind assistance from many people in the process of writing this book, but I should thank Nigel Markham first of all. In 1978, he told me about the damage Spanish influenza had wrought in northern Labrador in 1918 and we decided to make a documentary film about it. The National Film Board of Canada production, The Last Days of Okak, was released in 1985. A few years later, the same film could not be made. Our elderly informants, survivors of the flu, would all be gone. The short film told some of the tale how sickness struck and how people died and were buried but I knew there was much more to the story.

Archivists at The Rooms, Provincial Archives Division; librarians and archivists at the Centre for Newfoundland Studies at Memorial Universitys Queen Elizabeth II Library; and the archive of the Anglican Church in Newfoundland all helped. I benefited from a keen interest in the search for a forgotten telegram, letter, or diary. In Labrador, at the archives of Them Days magazine, editor Aimee Chaulk and her project researcher, Xingpei Li, were cheerful collaborators.

Two descendants of people who are important characters in this book were very generous and shared photos and documents. My thanks go to Karen Misik, granddaughter of Hayward and Sybil Parsons, and Roy Pieroway, grandson of Ernest Doane. Alex Saunders, son of survivor Maggie Gear Saunders, gave me useful comments on an early draft, as did Patty Way, the acknowledged expert on Sandwich Bay genealogy. I also received excellent comments and suggestions from my friends, Rosalind Gill and David Lough, and my brother, Richard Budgell. The Innu presence is very scant in this book perhaps a research project for another writer but for what I learned I owe thanks to Peter Armitage, Marc Hammond, and Adrian Tanner. Dr. Michael Worobey, at the University of Arizona, and Dr. Andrew Lang, at Memorial University of Newfoundland, checked my interpretation of the history and recent developments in flu science. I was well over my head, anxious about it, and relieved to get a passing grade.

Terence Ollerhead has my gratitude for dusting off his editorial skills and giving my manuscript a thorough going-over. I benefited greatly from his long experience. Moravian expert Dr. Hans Rollmann answered dozens of e-mails with great patience. I know how much he cares about getting it right and I hope the end product is up to his standard. Thanks also to Dr. Tom Gordon, professor emeritus at Memorial University of Newfoundlands School of Music. When he was the principal investigator with the Tradition and Transition Partnership between the university and the Nunatsiavut Government, he encouraged me to approach ISER Books at MUN. I also thank the Tradition and Transition Partnership for assisting with publication.

At ISER Books, I am indebted to the academic editor, Dr. Fiona Polack, for early guidance, nudges in new directions, and talking me through the peer review process. Thanks are due to the two anonymous reviewers for their detailed comments, which also shaped the final form of this work. The managing editor, Alison Carr, was just as keen as me to see the book come out and handled it swiftly and professionally, as did the copy editor, Dr. Richard Tallman.

I should have known this story would have a personal connection for me because three of my grandparents were living in Labrador at the time of the flu. (My grandfather, Murdock McLean, born in Labrador, was fighting in Belgium with the Royal Newfoundland Regiment.) It fully dawned on me in September 2016 when my cousin, Ruby (Learning) Durno, guided me on a visit to Cartwright and Sandwich Bay, where we received a tour of the bay from another cousin, George Bird, familiar with all its shoals and tides. We went to Dove Brook, the birthplace of my grandmother, Phyllis (Painter) Budgell, and her aunt, Elizabeth (Painter) Williams, who was the only survivor of the flu in North River. In the summer of 2015, my friends (probably also cousins) Judy Blake and her brother, Douglas, brought me to the head of Grand Lake, where the Nascopie River meets the lake. My mother, Ruby (McLean) Budgell, was born there and her family lived there for several years. We were looking for a grave marker placed by my mothers aunt and uncle, Joshua (Jock) and Nellie (McLean) Michelin, who lost three young children to the flu. Douglas found the marker, lying flat in the moss. The carved stone slab was probably ordered from Newfoundland, a significant outlay of cash for the family of a fur trapper, and a lasting reminder of the short lives of Adeline, Clarence, and Milda.

INTRODUCTION

At the end of World War I in 1918, after four years of unimaginable manmade destruction and millions of deaths, when people believed they could safely begin to rebuild their lives, a swiftly killing virus travelled the planet, affecting as many as one in three people. It is estimated that 50 to 100 million perished in what is considered the most lethal pandemic in recorded history, the so-called Spanish influenza. The virus was exceptionally severe, claiming many more people than influenza usually did.

The pandemic death rate was not uniform. Researchers have found wide variations from country to country. Two extreme examples often cited are Western Samoa, where between 20 and 30 per cent perished, and some villages of Alaska, where up to 60 per cent of people died. a mortality rate of just over 21 per cent, similar to that of Western Samoa.

For 100 years, scientists have been trying to understand the Spanish flu. Its origin and unusual severity are two of the foremost biomedical mysteries of the past century.

The influenza is described as manifesting in three waves. The first wave in early 1918 was less deadly than the second wave in mid-to-late 1918. The third wave occurred in the first months of 1919. The first wave was not alarming and had a death rate typical of ordinary seasonal flu.