As I mentioned before, we’re really here in Braidwood because of COVID-19. It’s a lovely sunny Tuesday here – if a little windy – and it’s hard to imagine the outside world still locked in a struggle with the virus. Although we’re not really that isolated, the pandemic seems to be the preserve of news headlines – bulletins from ‘over there’. Especially when the wi-fi needs a bit of coal in the boiler.
As far as we know there haven’t been any cases here, but just over a hundred years ago in 1919, the Spanish Flu found its ghastly way into town – and the community wasn’t as lucky as we have been so far.
Australia, because of its isolation – yes, the clue is in the concept – was the last nation on earth to be affected. The first cases were recorded in Melbourne in February 1919, brought by a soldier returning from the war. The border with New South Wales was closed and – get this – there was panic-buying of masks. Horse racing was suspended; schools, theatres, pubs and churches were closed; and people travelling interstate had to quarantine for four days. In Sydney, rumours abounded that there was a government cover-up of the true nature of the disease. Sound familiar?
In Braidwood the same month, an ‘inoculation depot’ was established in the Council Chambers and the council petitioned Sydney to be allowed to use the local school as an emergency hospital. Yet in April, the Braidwood Review and District Advocate was optimistic in an article headlined “Fortunately we are blessed with a salubrious climate.” Like now, the pandemic followed hard on the heels of a drought in the area, so it hit people already struggling economically.
The first victim was a Mrs Eliza Lane, whose son Bert – yes, a returning soldier – arrived from Sydney in April; Bert stayed with his sister who was boarding in the Fletcher household, and presently Mrs Fletcher and Bert’s sister were also ill and the household was quarantined but by then three other households connected with Eliza reported suspected cases. Early contact tracing revealed five confirmed and six suspected cases out of 18 contacts.
Local doctor Traill became ill and his brother, a medical student, was pressed into running his practice. An ‘inhalation chamber’ was erected near the park in the centre of town – at a cost to the taxpayer of GBP25 – and all arriving in town had to pass through it; its benefits were doubtful and it was discontinued again after a few weeks. As during the recent wildfires, the community depended heavily on volunteers, in 1919 to man the emergency hospital and transport cases in their cars.
Interesting from the point of view of where we stand regarding COVID-19 right now, a second wave hit Braidwood in July 1919 with nine fatalities. The dead were mainly concentrated in three local families: the Stoyleses, the Lanes, and the Louises. Braidwood suffered from a reputation as an infection centre with hotels on the coast refusing to accommodate Braidwood-based holidaymakers and the ladies of goldrush town Mongarlowe (18 km from Braidwood) declining to partner with Braidwood boys at a local dance.
More seriously, the passing trade local business relied on suffered as people passing through on what is now the King’s Highway declined to stop in Braidwood for fear of infection. Cattle sales (a key activity) suffered badly, the price of coal soared, and with the school closed, the local Catholic nuns had to rely on donations of produce and fuel.
Statistically, there were some parallels with what we’re seeing today with COVID-19: the death rate was higher for men (18.3%) than for women (10.8%); a wedding could prove particularly risky, as with that of Percy Latimer and Ilene Bell in May (Percy, a returning soldier, spent his honeymoon in hospital and 20 out of the 23 guests at the wedding came down with the flu – whatever the other three were on should have been bottled.)
New South Wales suffered 15,000 dead in less than a year, with Sydney and larger centres hit hardest – the death rate in regional and rural Australia was about 55% lower than in metropolitan areas. Braidwood, despite its reputation for infectiousness, had a relatively low mortality rate: 1.25 per 1,000 compared to 3.25 per 1,000 for the state as a whole.
It’s fascinating to think that Corner Cottage, built in 1910, was standing in Braidwood at the time. So far I don’t have any information as to who was living here – whoever it was probably had better things to do than fuss over a blog every day . . . and would have been a lot better at chopping firewood.