A number of vaccines came out in the early 1900s. Smallpox vaccination predated them all, while typhoid, rabies, diphtheria, pertussis, and a few influenza vaccines were licensed in the first half of the century. It was a magical time in the era of fucking up microbes. With advancements across the board in medical technology came the ability to isolate, identify, and for the first time in history, fight back in a targeted war against the cause of these diseases.
But polio was going to be a bit tricky. Because how do you get the type of folks with enough money to throw some at research to give a damn about a disease that they associate with those poor, “dirty” immigrants?
Today’s Moment of Science… we have nothing to fear but fear and paralytic polio.
We have to take a quick detour from science and chat about FDR for a hot second. Whatever your political bullshit is, this would be a very different discussion had former Assistant Secretary of the Navy Franklin Delano Roosevelt not fallen ill in 1921. Having just lost his run for the vice presidency, this vision of privilege was the new face of a disease commonly associated with a xenophobic image of immigrant communities.
Despite rumors to the contrary, the country was quite aware that he’d had polio. He did, however, work tirelessly to avoid any appearance that could be called ‘weak.’ He employed an elaborate system of leg braces and crutches to move slowly, but always upright, when he could be photographed by the press.
Someone suggested hydrotherapy to him, and that he could perhaps further improve his condition by unfurling his legs in the water. Roosevelt trekked to Warm Springs, GA, a town with warm springs and a wicked original name.
Not only did he goddamn love it, he was like “I’m getting one for myself.” He bought a place right in Warm Springs, and in 1926 sunk a sizable chunk of his inheritance into establishing a rehab center for people with polio. In 1938, he founded the National Foundation for Infantile Paralysis to fund research and support polio patients.
You know it better as the March of Dimes.
Funding for scientific research is about as easy to come by as castrating a hippo on PCP. So Roosevelt pulled the ultimate “I’m gonna pay my bill in change” by asking the American people to send dimes to the White House.
Which today sounds like the audacity of nope.
But it was a different time. Parents were terrified, and so were children who had a dime or two kicking around and had seen their friends get sick.
Radio and screen star Eddie Cantor went on the air to help launch the effort a week before the president’s birthday in January of 1938.
“The March of Dimes will enable all persons, even the children, to show our President that they are with him in this battle against this disease,” he said. “Nearly everyone can send in a dime, or several dimes. However, it takes only ten dimes to make a dollar and if a million people send only one dime, the total will be $100,000.” They were hoping to meet that goal by Roosevelt’s birthday.
Two days later, they had $17.50.
Less than a week later, they’d been overwhelmed with over 80,000 letters totaling $268,000. The envelopes kept coming.
Funds were split between polio patient care and directly funding vaccine research to ensure a future without suffering from this microscopic beast.
But we’ll talk about Dr. Jonas Salk tomorrow.
This has been your daily Moment of Science, with a not so subtle reminder that science and politics are never that far removed from each other.
I guess now all we need is a wealthy US President to get Covid, and be inspired to focus their energy in wiping out the disease, treating the ill, and preventing it from happening again.