How Charlotte County Escaped Yellow Jack

HELP! – Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper of 1888 portrays the yellow fever demon, lower left, dragging down Florida as Columbia rushes to the rescue. Note the vile vapors ensuing from demon’s mouth, the broken “Trade” box on the ground and another vaporous demon right background.
Illustration courtesy State Library Archives of Florida

The Florida yellow fever epidemic of 1887-8 spared the Charlotte Harbor area largely because there were not enough people to sustain one – or, perhaps, primitive quarantine measures kept the scourge at bay.

Floridians liked to boast of their healthful climate but seldom mentioned tropical diseases that in those days counterbalanced curative effects of year-around sunshine.

Yellow jack – as the fever was best known then – was common in warm, moist countries. It was greatly feared because the mortality rate was high and its method of transmission by a particular species of mosquito not known until 1901.

Name of the disease reflects the jaundice that accompanied high fever, extreme pain and vomiting of black blood. Even today there is no specific cure. The infection has been brought under control by vaccination and eradication mosquito conditions.

The worst epidemic in Florida history began at Key West in the spring of 1887. Tampa was instantly alarmed. It was assisting the Cuban cigar makers at Key West to relocate following a disastrous fire that destroyed the factories there a year earlier.

It was believed, probably correctly, that the infection was brought to Tampa by Key West cigar makers.

Two thousand Cubans from there had arrived already. Scores of others arrived by twice-weekly ships from Key West and Cuba – according to Tampa Bay historian

As Key West depopulated, the fever there burned itself out. Inevitably Tampa became the epidemic focal point.

Tampans flew in terror, leaving their homes unguarded. Some looting occurred but remarkably this was not a serious problem.

Fighting Back

A quarantine station was set up hurriedly on Egmont Key where passengers from Key West and Cuba had to stay 15 days before being allowed to land at Tampa.

The quarantine was too little too late. Yellow fever was rampant. It is estimated that one thousand persons contracted yellow jack in 1887. A hundred of these died.

Another 300 cases and ten deaths were recorded in the early part of 1888. Every family experienced cases of the sickness. Medical and financial aid flowed to the stricken city from throughout the nation.

Small towns nearby were quickly afflicted. It was reported that yellow jack was carried from Tampa to Jacksonville in early 1888 by a “drummer” (traveling salesman) who died at the Mayflower Hotel. Arsonists burned the hotel a few days later in a futile effort to halt spread of the disease.

Nearly 5,000 cases were reported at Jacksonville that year, resulting in 427 deaths.

It was thought that yellow fever was caused by microbes wafted through the air. The defense, therefore, consisted mainly of quarantine and fumigation. Yellow flags were nailed to front doors of houses sheltering patients.

Coatings of lime were applied to tree trunks, hydrants, curbs, fences and posts – a practice that survives today in the South as decoration.

Streets were sprayed with a solution of bichloride of mercury. Barrels of pine tar were burned to “purify” the air. The oddest defense was discharge of cannon to “concuss” microbes floating about. The state Board of Health issued printed leaflets for emergency treatment of yellow fever.

“Give a hot, mustard bath with the patient in a chair under a blanket for 15 minutes. After drying the blanket, place the patient in bed with hot-water bottles. Give 5 grains of calomel to adults, half this amount to a child. After four hours, give a dose of castor oil or salts; also warm drinks of orange leaf tea. After the medicine acts, give 1/2 teaspoon of nitre in cool water every two hours, and an enema if necessary Give 3 tablespoons of beef or chicken broth or gruel and discourage vomiting.”

Fighting Back

Doctors noted that “no red-headed people” had contracted the disease and therefore appear to be immune.

Authorities also observed that the number of cases declined after a frost, and was most prevalent in homes near swamps or in shade. Yet, they did not connect the phenomena with the abundant mosquitoes.

Florida communities not affected mounted “yellow jack patrols” to turn away folks coming from epidemic areas. Railroad towns refused to let passengers alight. Waycross, Ga., would not even let trains from suspect areas pass through except with locked doors at high speed.

The guard around Jacksonville numbered 433 armed men around the clock -- according to Margaret Fairly in the Florida Historical Quarterly of Oct. 1940.

In rural areas, residents threw up roadblocks to intercept and closely question travelers.

The New York Times of Oct. 1887 reported: “Should the scourge at Tampa continue, strict quarantine will be established which will necessitate a change in the transportation of the West India Mail. Some points below Tampa -- probably Punta Gorda -- will be selected to connect with the steamers.”

This was the beginning of Punta Gorda as a deep-sea port. Col. Isaac Trabue’s formerly vacant town had begun to grow with arrival of the Florida Southern Railway in July 1886 and construction of a large, resort hotel.

A long dock at Punta Gorda (Fat Point) west of town enabled Morgan Line steamships to transfer railroad passenger to and from Cuba.

Refugees Intercepted

The new town of Punta Gorda, and its neighbor Charlotte Harbor town across the bay, appreciated the prosperity that came with commerce and quarantines elsewhere. Nevertheless, they also dreaded yellow fever.

Harbor patrols were vigilant in intercepting “refugees.” The fishing industry there was just starting to take advantage of the railroad and Trabue’s ice factory. Strangers poured in.

Rev. George Gatewood, an early settler in what is now Charlotte Country, in his old age published a memoir of those fearsome days.

“It was in 1886 that Capt. William H. Johnson – with L.T. Blockson, John C. Lewis and J.J. McCann sailed up Charlotte Harbor in a 15-ton schooner and tied up at the Long Dock then just completed a mile west of Punta Gorda, then called Trabue.

“There, they resumed operations in the wholesale fish business and began shipping north – over the new railroad – the catches they previously had been shipping from Tampa.

“Johnson, Blocksom, and Lewis originally were from North Carolina. Johnson brought down the experienced men and equipment the company needed in operating on the Florida coasts.

“Several times when Capt. Johnson was on harbor trips – escorting company fishermen – he was stopped by quarantine guards. However, Capt. Johnson had an effective way of meeting those situations.

“He knew his men had not been where yellow fever was prevalent. In each instance it was urgent that the men reach their destination with as little delay as possible and get started on the work of packers awaiting their arrival.

“One instance was the encounter of a guard posted in a ‘shot gun’ quarantine. Another was in the schooner that first brought the captain and others up the harbor to the Long Dock below Punta Gorda.

“The third instance was a subsequent entry up the harbor with a boatload of men whom the quarantine officer erroneously suspected of being from a place where yellow fever was known to exist.

“In polite but firm language, Johnson argued against being denied port-entry, or permission to proceed to his destination.

“When logical argument failed, he pointed to his men – all of who had the earmarks of rough seafarers – and urged: ‘Well, look my men over and note how many there are. We’ve got to be going. You see no reason to prevent us from doing so, do you?’

Quarantine Station

Capt. Johnson later became a pilot on the Boca Grande bar, dealt in real estate and was elected to the Charlotte County Board of Commissioners.

The yellow fever epidemic of 1887-88 – during which local settlers tried to ban ships from other ports – led to a demand for inspections of crew health.

Punta Gorda’s first newspaper, the Beacon, reported in July 1889: “State Physician Porter -- in his report before the State Board of Health -- recommended that an inspecting station and fumigating chamber be stationed at LaCosta Isle in Charlotte Harbor.

“He asked that a steam launch be provided that station for cruising between Punta Gorda and Punta Rassa, and also to Tampa and Manatee.

“The Board of Health did not accept the proposition but said it might act on his recommendation if urgently requested by the local Board of Health. Now, there is a chance for our local Board to take opportunity by the horns.”

It is not clear when the quarantine station was established at the south end of Gasparilla Island. In October 1893, the Herald reported: “Dr. J.F. Cronin is the genial quarantine officer at Boca Grande Pass.”

Duties of the quarantine officer were to ride out with the Boca Grande Pass pilots to incoming ships and examine sailors for infectious diseases.

The vigilance of harbor authorities was successful. There is no evidence that the 1887-88 or subsequent yellow jack epidemics ever took a fearsome toll in Charlotte County.

FIGHTING FEVER – Bonfires like these on Bay Street, Jacksonville, supposedly destroyed fever microbes floating in the air.

ON LOOKOUT – Fever Committees like this one in Lakeland, patrolled streets to keep sick people indoors and would- be visitors away.

DON’T – Florida refugees on trains attempting to enter towns up the line not yet afflicted were turned back by vigilante committees.

WHAT’S NEW? – Gainesville newspaper illustration said, “All summer, reports drifted in of the fever epidemic.” Note fans to circulate air.

SAFE HARBOR -- Charlotte Harbor area fishermen, like these at Punta Gorda, escaped yellow fever. Mosquitoes scarce over salt water.

July 3, 2005

Fighting Back

Fighting Back

Refugees Intercepted

Quarantine Station

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