[_The widespread flood disaster in Ohio during the last week of March
led members of the Pittsburgh Flood Commission to study the situation.
Morris Knowles, a member of the Engineering Committee of this
commission, has had two assistants in the field for this purpose. One
of these, M. R. Scharff, who had previously been employed by Mr.
Knowles in making a sanitary survey of the coal-mining camps in
Alabama, paid particular attention to the sanitary conditions
resulting from the flood. The present article embodies observations
made on this trip._—Ed.]
Following in the wake of great disasters which descend from time to time
upon our cities, paralyzing the public services that make crowded city
conditions possible, is the outcropping of disease that may, if
unchecked, prove more disastrous even than the catastrophe itself. This
tendency was discernible in the first reports of the floods that have
recently devastated Ohio, Indiana and adjoining states, due to the heavy
rains of March 24–28. Nearly every flooded city reported that its water
works plant had been put out of commission, or the water supply
polluted, which with the increased chance of infection, and the general
lowering of vitality presented a situation of unusual menace and one
demanding complete and immediate handling.
The most serious situation is Dayton, for here every sanitary problem
presented at any other point was involved. The complete, immediate and
effective organization to handle the situation which was formed there
was typical of the effective work now done at such emergency periods.
At Dayton the water works plant was incapacitated by water that reached
ten feet above the boiler grates; there was unknown damage to water
distribution and sanitary sewerage and drainage systems; storm sewers
and catch basins were clogged with filth and debris; dead animals were
strewn on every side; the population was at high nervous tension, their
vitality lowered by shock, exposure, cold, and lack of food and drink;
hundreds of people were crowded for days in single buildings or
dwellings; thousands, probably, had been exposed to intestinal infection
by drinking the dirty flood water as it swirled through the streets;
hundreds had only wet cellars and rooms to return to, if their homes
were not altogether destroyed; and everywhere on everything—walls,
ceilings, floors, furniture, streets and sidewalks—was a thick coating
of the black, sticky, slimy mud left by the retreating waters. This in a
measure pictures the situation at Dayton as the flood waters receded.
And Dayton knew at once that the toll of the flood would be as nothing
compared to the pestilence, unless attention and energy were directed to
these problems.
This appreciation of the paramount importance of sanitation was a
striking revelation of the success of the campaign of sanitary education
that has characterized the last century. In every phase of the work of
recovery, in the warning signs and directions on almost every post, in
the placards on the automobiles of the sanitary department stating that
“This car must not be stopped or delayed day or night,” in the daily
exhortations in the free newspapers distributed throughout the city, in
a thousand ways, Dayton declared again and again:
“Sanitation first and foremost. Then everything else.”
Such was the spirit of the members of the Dayton Bicycle Club, when they
met as the waters receded from their club-house to consider what service
they could best render to their stricken city, and volunteered to remove
the dead animals strewn it the streets. Such also was the message
reiterated by the Ohio State Board of Health, the city health officials,
the representatives of the national government, the Red Cross, the
Relief Committee, the Ohio National Guard, and every one of the splendid
organizations that are working shoulder to shoulder to clean up Dayton
and to prevent conditions more costly in toll of life than the deluge
itself.
One of the remarkable features of the handling of the relief work at
Dayton was the entire absence of red tape, the lack of conflict, and the
universal evidence of harmonious co-operation between the various
organizations at work, notwithstanding that there was no complete
centralization of direction and that some of the organizations were
proceeding practically independent of the others. “Results, not credit,”
was the watchword, and the results were such as to reflect the most
lasting credit upon all engaged in the work.
The Dayton Bicycle Club showed wisdom in volunteering to remove the dead
animals from the street. Nearly every horse in the more than seven
square miles of the city that was under water—and this area contained
all the important livery stables—was drowned, and quick action was
needed to remove the bodies to prevent serious results. A sanitary
department was organized, and as rapidly as automobile trucks and wagons
were volunteered, they were pressed into service. Over 100 vehicles and
about 600 men were engaged on this work. A rendering company, which
handles all the garbage collected in the city, agreed to take care of
the horses and did so as fast as they came for a time. When the
carcasses came so rapidly that it was necessary to heap them up on the
grounds of the plant, and then on a vacant field nearby, the plant was a
grewsome place indeed. Up to the night of March 31, 1,002 had been
received. A number were picked up the next two days, so that the final
total was probably in the neighborhood of 1,100.
At about the time this work was started, a reconstruction department was
organized, under the Citizens Relief Committee, with divisions, each
under an engineer, assigned to street cleaning, sewers and drains,
streets, and levees. By March 31, the removal of dead animals had been
practically completed, and the organization and equipment of the
sanitary department were merged with those of the street cleaning
division of the reconstruction department. Sanitary notices directed
that all mud and rubbish be deposited at the curb, the city was divided
into districts and collection progressed rapidly, considering the wagons
and trucks available. More wagons could have been put into service, but
horses were lacking. All mud and rubbish was hauled to one of the
half-dozen city rubbish dumps located in low outlying sections, or was
dumped off bridges into the river. The employes of the city water works
department were able to get into the pumping station on March 28 and the
following day pumping was resumed. Dayton’s water supply comes from a
number of deep drilled wells along the Mad River. It is pumped direct
into the mains without storage, by means of a Holly vertical,
triple-expansion, crank and fly-wheel engine. This pump has given rise
to the local name of “Hollywater” applied to the city supply. It was
feared at first that the distribution system had been badly damaged, but
investigation showed that only three small mains had been broken. Water,
at reduced pressure, was therefore possible, except in one or two small
sections.
[Illustration:
AN IMPROVISED COMFORT STATION
]
Dayton water is exceptionally pure, but it was feared that there might
have been leakage of flood water into the pipes while the pressure was
cut off and so notices to “boil all water, even the Hollywater” were
posted. Samples were promptly taken for analysis from various portions
of the distribution system by the chemist of the National Cash Register
Company, the bacteriologist of the city Board of Health, and by the
State Board of Health, but the injunction to boil water was continued,
even though the first analysis was favorable.
The catch basins and storm sewers throughout the city were badly clogged
with wreckage and filth, and early cleaning was imperative. The city was
divided into seven drainage districts, and gangs of men and wagons
assigned to shoveling out catch basins and hauling the rubbish to the
dumps. At the same time systematic inspection of the sanitary sewerage
system was begun. It had been expected that the sewers would be clogged,
like the storm drains, and the early sanitary notices issued contained
these warnings: