A Nurses diary in the Jordan School District, 1917-1938
Thank you Margo Hill RN, for submitting this article.
The health program had its beginning in the school year of 1917-1918.
The total enrollment at that time was about 4,260 students. One nurse was employed
to supervise the health instruction in all eighteen of the schools. Of necessity,
her contacts with each school were infrequent, but her diligence founded a program
which spread rapidly.
"From 1917 – 1920 this nurse worked alone, giving our school buildings
general sanitary inspections as to cleanliness, proper lighting, ventilation
and care of lavatories; impressing the principal and the teaching staff with
the importance of watching these general hygienic points. In fact, the nurse
was appointed to relieve the superintendent of the health work just as any of
the supervisors have been appointed for special duty.
"In 1921 a second nurse was hired. It was at this time that the writer
began working in the district, but in 1922-23 funds ran low so the task of keeping
the program alive was again given to one nurse. Though some of the objectives
inevitably suffered, the nucleus of the work survived: proper school sanitation,
supervision over contagious diseases and some community work in preventive illness.
"My particular area was Bingham Canyon which included three grade schools,
Upper Bingham, Highland Boy, and Bingham itself which was in the same building
with the high school. A mile and a half walk was required to reach the other
two schools on the two forks, which were separated by the Bingham Copper mine,
now Kennecott Copper. The roads were not paved nor were the sidewalks, so in
the winter it was quite a trek to reach these schools or to make visits to the
homes on the hillsides.
“Since the families were mainly of foreign extraction, establishing rapport
with them was a necessity if the programs were to work. My being European by
birth helped me to understand some of the worries and insecurities of these
mothers who spoke little English and who understood less of what was being said.
“In one school which had an enrollment of 200 elementary students, there
were 27 different languages and dialects . . . [missing text] . . . who passed
on the road asked if I had started a dairy. To my surprise, the cows were waiting
when I finished my work at the school and together we went back down the road.
I delivered them safely to their barn.
“Upper Bingham had a lesser language problem but climbing up and down
the mountainside was more difficult. One rainy cold afternoon I had to ask a
father to permit my taking three of his children to an eye specialist. It was
an impossibility to convince him that this was necessary. I left in a pouring
rain. As I started down the steep and muddy trail, suddenly I slipped, lost
my nurse's bag and rushed on down to the bottom. There were no bushes to stop
me, even on the turn. I bumped into a telephone pole where I clung to catch
my breath. Luckily I was just a few steps from the road. Tired and discouraged,
I reached my room, bewailing the fact that this visit had been a waste of time.
“But not so, on my next visit the father did give his consent. He even
let me take the children to stay at my home in Salt Lake City the night before
we had to appear at the doctor's office. A daughter had an operation to correct
her crossed eyes, and the two boys received glasses. Whenever I see the daughter,
now a school teacher with a family of her own, she tells me that it was that
visit which really saved her eyes.
“Another episode involving transportation occurred when the District established
a one-room school for a dozen or so children near the top of the mountain where
the New England mine was located. It was at least a two mile trip from Upper
Bingham and very difficult to navigate during the winter months. I wrote to
the school board explaining that getting there and back was almost impossible.
Facetiously I commented that only a horse could make this trip and survive.
To my great surprise I was notified that a horse would be supplied on a once
a week basis.
“I really did not know what I was getting into, but the canyons above
Upper Bingham were beautiful, the horse could not run at that altitude or did
not choose to, so I enjoyed this trip every week. A lovely group of children,
an excellent teacher, and a free lunch at the company mess hall always made
this a delightful day. The home calls, however, were rather tiring as it was
difficult to get off and on the horse if there was not someplace or person to
give a boost.
“Once when it was snowing it was particularly difficult to get down to
Bingham. I should not have worried about the horse slipping but I concentrated
on the road rather than on the landmarks. Suddenly there was a chorus of guffaws.
I looked up. My horse had stopped dead still in front of the local brothel.
The only thing I could do was to join in the fun. I was told that the man who
usually used this horse always stopped at this place on his way back from work.
“After this episode I had permission to ride the Bingham Mine company
train, called the crummy, which left at seven in the morning to take the men
to the top level of the mine. At five in the afternoon I came back down with
the same train. This way of travel was much easier, and I learned a great deal
about the workings of the open pit mine area and about the problems of the miners.
“Finally I was furnished a Model T Ford by the Salt Lake County Board
of Health when the Lark and Harriman Schools were added to my schedule. Unless
one has driven in the middle of the winter on the snow-packed roads west of
the Jordan River, one cannot imagine how miserable this can be. I have sat sometimes
for an hour in a snowdrift waiting for someone either to push me through the
drift or to pull me back and put the horse and wagon through first so I could
follow.
“Finally the men at the county garage put two hand warmers on the steering
wheel. This was a help, but what about the feet? It was something to consider
when driving a Model T. It was nothing to me to change a tire or put on chains,
tighten up brakes or connect some wires that had loosened in the engine. It
seemed to be all in the day's work.
“Lark was a small mining town. The enrollment at the school was less than
a hundred children. The homes were huddled in the town which had one store.
There were a few farmers living outside the town, but the roads were not as
good as those in the Bingham area.
“When making a home call outside of the town it was really something to
follow the coiled side road where no one could pass. Every so often a wider
opening was made on the hillside to permit a driver to stop and let another
car pass. The unwritten law was that the car going up the hill had the right
of way.
“At one time I had a home call in this area. When I entered the yard two
boys were bringing the goats down from the pasture. Being interested in the
cleanliness of the cote I followed them inside. I watched as the father milked
the goats. Presently he spoke to his little daughter who ran from the cote to
return with a big glass. The father squirted milk into the glass and handed
it to me.
“What could I do? I knew that if I did not accept he would be offended
and I should never get any cooperation from him. I accepted the offer, plucked
a few goat hairs from the top of the milk and started to drink. I had never
tasted goat's milk before and have never done so since. The father beamed as
I handed back the empty glass. It was no hard task to get his permission to
have the tonsils of his two children removed.
“So it was that in this slow person-to-person relationship that the seeds
were planted for a health program in the mining communities. At the same time
classroom programs were taking shape.
“The nurse did a general inspection of the children, reported contagion
and then made house calls to determine absence. It was evident that some training
was prophylactic preventive medicine. Health outlines were prepared for each
grade. Their teaching constituted an important part of the curriculum. It should
be noted that the teachers and administration cooperated to a remarkable degree.
In addition, during the 1920's the nurses gave approximately 2,000 classroom
and community talks. They also conducted seventh grade weekly classes in personal
health. Little Mother classes in the eighth grade in which the care and growth
of the baby were discussed, ninth and tenth grade classes in principles of anatomy
and physiology together with home care of the sick, and a follow-up in the eleventh
and twelfth grades including a person's responsibility to the community.
“In the early days, the approach to health was pragmatic. One taught the
things that needed teaching. Today parents would possibly resent the emphasis
on cleanliness and mutual concern, but in those days first graders were taught
how to wash their hands before meals, clean their nails and brush their teeth.
They were encouraged to eat what was cooked at home and to get enough hours
of sleep.
“’Coughing should be done in a paper towel or into a handkerchief.’
For a while head lice were a problem in some areas until instruction in proper
hair shampoo cleared up the situation.
“Older school children were constantly encouraged to help out at home,
picking up debris in their yards, teaching younger children health rules and
looking after their welfare, sharing with parents knowledge of better nutrition.
“Principles of anatomy began early enough so that girls had some awareness
of their own sexual development, but such instruction was always a part of the
larger picture of social relations, proper dress, good posture, and particularly
fairness in dealing with others and concern for community good. Students visited
the hospital and learned the principles of first aid. There was a remarkable
spirit of inter-relatedness that strengthened and inspired.
“In the Bingham area classes were also held for mothers. It was really
something to see those mothers come to class. We never had less than twenty
present. At one school there was great difficulty in understanding the language
and greater difficulty in expressing themselves. I had a big doll and clothes
to dress it. Sometimes a brave mother would come forward to demonstrate last
week's lesson. Sometimes she spoke in her own language. I then looked very sad
and they had great fun. How quickly they grasped the reason and how delighted
they were to tell me they understood.
“At that school an illustration of school cooperation was that if the
mothers brought pre-school children they were taken to the first grade or they
sat with a brother or sister in a higher grade. If there were babies involved,
the teacher found lessons for the sitter that could be done with a baby on her
lap.
“In this same school one day the state supervisor came unexpectedly to
see how these classes were progressing. I had told the women to have one of
their children help them to read the lesson. I intended to give a little test
with a ribbon reward if they had learned the material. We were just singing
our opening song, ‘My Country, 'tis of Thee,’ when the supervisor
walked in. I knew that the class members would never come to the front and express
themselves when a stranger was present. Panic showed on every face. So I had
them sing the song again while I hastily distributed white squares of material
which I had prepared for the next week's lesson. Then came a demonstration of
how to prepare mustard plasters to use if someone had a chest cold. Again it
was ‘show and tell.’ The mothers became so interested they forgot
the supervisor seated in the back of the room. Every ‘plaster’ was
carefully put into a purse to take home.
“A few then dared to come to the front of the room to demonstrate diapering
the baby (doll) and to show how to exercise its arms and legs, even how to cuddle
it and sing to it. They really enjoyed entering into the spirit of the project.
When it was time to dismiss I pinned the red bow of accomplishment on each coat.
The next week I explained to the group why I had changed the lesson. I also
explained to the supervisor who agreed that it was a good change because they
did not need to answer questions.
“Starting in 1926 with the women in the community we fostered a free lunch
program for the lower grades in the Bingham School, many of whom had to walk
too far during the noon hour to have lunch at home which even then was insufficient.
The women's organizations bought the food and the Home Economics department
in the high school prepared it. Prices were six cents a serving. If there were
too many children in a family or too little income, we arranged for the lunch
to be free. The two other schools in the area received free milk. This program
lasted for two years.
“In 1924 a typhoid epidemic started in Bingham. It was mandatory that
the men in the Upper Bingham and Highland Boy mines also be vaccinated. Four
thousand persons were protected. We had protection in the schools as well. For
three years there was a follow-up program of booster shots.
“The first active immunity in the Bingham area schools was vaccination
against smallpox in 1925, involving 827 students. A year later there was a general
inoculation against diphtheria. At that time anti-toxin was all that was yet
available which was much more painful than what students get today. Programs
such as this required popularizing among the parents.
“Happily our own private physicians assisted, explaining the need of protection
for the children. The nurses outlined the work before parent-teacher associations,
Relief Societies and at similar church and public meetings. This was done in
the whole district.
“A next step was the introduction of clinics. New students who were to
enter school were examined as well as infants and first graders. The object
was to bring to the attention of the parents any physical defect that would
seriously interfere with the educational advancement of the child. The State
Board of Health statistics indicated that only one out of every four children
was at that time physically sound.
“In 1925 a TB clinic was held in the Highland Boy area sponsored by the
State Department of Health.
“By that time I was well known so I made many home visits to urge parents
to come and, bring their children to be examined. So many mothers were frightened
by this prospect that promises to come were almost nil. I then went to the leaders
of the different men's organizations to urge their cooperation to explain to
their members the need of having the examination. This really brought excellent
results. Some of the mothers still did not come. If I missed their presence
at the clinic I sent a child of the family home to tell her they must come.
This too made the clinic a great success.
“At this time goiter was a problem in Utah. A state survey had been made
to determine its prevalence. Iodine tablets were handed out at school for those
who wanted or needed them. This program was not too successful however as taking
the pills was optional.
“During the depression in the 1930's the county health department under
the guidance of Dr. Robert J. Alexander, County Health Officer and Supervisor
of the Public Health nurses had the hospital furnish cod liver oil to the students
in the Bingham District. The closing of the mines caused a widespread poverty
in the area.
“The teachers at the school served this oil to the children from grade
1-6. Each child brought his own spoon. Each class stood in line awaiting its
turn. We had to watch them very closely because the children often would go
back in the line again to get a second serving. The nurse made periodical inspections
of all the children, looking for any health problems which might need attention
of a physician: vision, hearing, dental care, sores or contagious diseases were
closely watched. The teachers also referred students to the nurse if there were
behavior problems to determine whether a medical problem might be the cause.
“In 1929 Miss Mary L. Storey was hired as the first school social worker.
At first we nurses had no idea what cooperation there would be between the health
department and the social worker. Miss Storey's competence however became well
known. In the 1931-32 school year, at the request of the State Board she was
released from the district for several months to make a survey, investigating
the need of social workers in the schools throughout the state.
“It was wonderful to see mental and physical resources used in constructive
team work.
“During 1933 the Jordan Health Council was organized which all the physicians
in the district joined. Later the dentists also became members. These doctors
and dentists gave generously of their time and skills. Clinics were set up during
the depression of the 1930s. Tonsillectomies were performed at the Methodist
Church Community Center at Highland Boy. At least 30 children were operated
upon free of charge. The Salt Lake County Hospital provided the ether and linen
for the doctors' use. The center's amusement hall was transformed into a recovery
room. Cots and blankets were provided by the community. The local ladies organization,
the doctor's office nurses and public health nurses were the assisting team.
This was followed a short time later by a second clinic, held at the Highland
Boy School where the dentists extracted decayed teeth of all children who needed
to have work done. Each child was inspected and cared for as needed. The parents
of the upper and lower Bingham Schools were invited to bring their children.
A school bus was furnished to bring them to the clinic.
“Later two clinics were held at the West Jordan School. All the children
in the district needing dental care were invited to come with a parent. Again
a school bus brought them to the clinic if there was no other way of transportation.
Once more the Salt Lake County Hospital furnished the ether and linen needed
by the dentists and doctors.
“No one knows how much charity work was done by the doctors and dentists
in their private offices. Public clinics to examine babies, pre-school and school
children became an invaluable part of the health program. The nurses aided the
parents in need to use the resources of the county hospital where assistance
could be obtained.
“Tightly shut in between the hills, Bingham Canyon knew a cohesion not
experienced by those spread out in the valley. Though in many ways different
in background and skills, they all shared the risks of the mine and the mining
community. Those who knew the area felt something intense and explosive in the
very air. There was a kind of precarious tension as though violence were just
under the surface as indeed it was. Health and security for the mine families
was hard won. So one cannot cell the story of early days in Bingham Canyon without
noting the eruptions in the environment. The town seemed to be beset by catastrophe.
“In February of 1926 a vicious snow slide earned down from the top of
the mountain just above the Highland Boy School. It was just before noon. It
had been snowing heavily for two days and the roads were almost impassable.
On my way to make my weekly visit to the school the driver of the company wagon
offered me a ride. He told me there had been a snow slide. His horses had all
they could do to make headway.
“We arrived at the flat where the Highland Boy Mine office had been turned
into a hospital. Dr. F. E. Straup and Dr. G. Jamison were in the operating room
along with two nurses from their office. I stayed in the main room to aid the
volunteers who had had some experience in first aid. Patients were either unconscious
or in shock. The orders were to put hot towels on the injured parts or frozen
areas. Our hot water supply was limited so some boys were sent around the neighborhood
to borrow hot plates and more towels. The help was far from perfect but it was
fantastic considering the magnitude of the catastrophe.
“Dr. Paul Richards was out on the hill to give first aid to those who
were rescued and to diagnose their condition and the severity of their injuries.
We did not have time to weep over the fatalities. These were taken to the morgue
or to the admissions room if there seemed a chance that they might live.
“At one time Dr. Richards brought in a little five-year-old girl, apparently
dead. He took over the treatment of hot-packing the entire body. I just handed
him what he needed. The doctor's lips were moving but no sound was heard. After
a time the child moved her head slightly, the little slate colored hands became
pale, then there was a sigh. She opened her eyes slowly, smiled a little and
whispered, ‘Hi, doc, I'm cold.’ Tears blinded my eyes. Orders were
left for her care as the doctor quickly left the room again.
“Officials from the state and county departments of health as well as
members of The Red Cross Department arrived later in the afternoon. The snowplows
had cleared a path and mountains of snow had been hauled away. The injured could
then be taken to the Bingham hospital or transported to the various hospitals
in the valley. Thirty-nine people had died.
“Mrs. Irene Frazier, a graduate nurse and wife of Dr. R. G. Frazier, and
many others belonging to the community or the Red Cross worked hard to provide
the bereaved families with food and clothing. The Methodist Church built a community
house in 1923, already a great influence for good, particularly among the youth;
now everyone worked from this center to give the assistance so sorely needed.
I took a cot in the basement of the disaster building to be on call during the
night for those patients who still needed help, and could not be moved.
“In September, 1932 a big fire started in Highland Boy across the street
from the school. Suddenly the wind blew the flames across the street causing
great damage to the school.
“Serious fires during three years, 1924, 1925, and 1927, threatened to
annihilate the lower Bingham town. The 1924 fire raging in the upper main street
of the city was the worst calamity. It burned down half a block of buildings.
The offices of Dr. F. E. Straup and Dr. R. G. Frazier were overrun with severely
injured persons.
“When the fires had been quenched I made a final inspection of the ruins
to be sure that everybody had left the area. I found one lady in the back of
her cellar storeroom which had been dug into the face of the mountain back of
the home. She stood leaning against the back wall weeping quietly. I knew she
must be injured, but where? Slowly we walked through the debris. When we came
to the street I took my hand from her shoulder. She then removed her arms from
her apron. On each arm she had a blister from elbow to wrist. On the way to
the doctor's office we met another poor soul wandering back and forth across
the street in obvious shock. I took her hand and led both to the doctor's office
to receive medical attention.
“The other fires were not so extensive, but a great blow was the discovery
that the members of the fire department were not covered by any insurance. Many
men had been injured in the fire and were not able to work. These fires were
so tragic because most of the buildings were frame, huddled close together in
the narrow street. The community learned from this however, so that some of
the hazards were corrected, including improvement in the new buildings. And
because of the mutual difficulty the many ethnic groups grew closer together.
“Shortly after school started in the fall of 1929 the school board financed
the examining of all students in the district. Dr. Kenneth B. Castleton, a practicing
physician in Salt Lake was engaged to do this. A report of defects found was
sent to the parents. The nurses made home visits to urge the parents to take
their child to their family physician if there was any need for treatment.
“In 1930 Bingham High School was built in the Copperton area where also
a township had been created by the Bingham Canyon mine in order to establish
residences for their employees.
“An elementary school had been erected for grades 1 to 6. Bingham High
housed students from 7-12 grades. When a new Junior High was built in West Jordan
the students were transported to West Jordan from Bingham.
“During the depression in the 1930s the Federal Relief Emergency Administration
was organized in Washington under the Child Hygiene Department. Its purpose
was to assist the country in better pre-natal and post-natal care for mothers,
and to assist with the health of infants, pre-school youngsters and children
of school age. New graduate nurses were recruited and assigned to work with
the regular public health nurses. Their salaries came from the F.R.E.A. Thirty-six
of them were at work in the state. They made valuable contributions.
“In the late fall of 1933 one of these nurses was assigned to work with
me in the Bingham area. She was young and beautiful and seemed to love her work.
To me she was a Godsend. Not only did she carry her share of the caseload but
she even shifted gears for me in the car while I was incapacitated with a broken
wrist.
“As we shared our concerns for our patients, I began to realize that I
was concerned as well for the well being of my nurse assistant. She was far
too serious and quiet. Eventually she told me of the emotional burden that she
was carrying. I tried to cheer her up but made little headway. One day I said
rather facetiously, ‘Never mind, you will find another friend who will
be happy to cake care of you.’
“’I just don't want to live,’ she replied.
“Without really thinking I answered, ‘I am sure that I will dance
at your wedding or else I shall sing at your funeral. I expect it will be the
first.’ But she did not react to what was meant to be lighthearted banter.
“Three weeks later, on January 26, 1934, we were in Bingham. Preparatory
to visiting one of the schools, I unlocked the car on her side and walked around
to the driver's seat. As I settled myself behind the wheel, my coworker gave
a piercing cry and fell against me. Her ex-husband had shot her and then killed
himself.
“Ironically, the mayor, the chief of police and a doctor were within twenty
feet of the car. I was within four feet of the murderer yet I saw only a hand
holding a pistol, or I think I saw it.
“As I had promised, I sang at her funeral. This was, in a way, a personal
tragedy since it involved a single individual whose loss I mourned. It happened
so quickly and one is left to face the consequences.
“A public health nurse is particularly vulnerable in time of catastrophe.
We had encountered epidemics, snow slides, fire and murder. But worst of all
was the tragedy which began when a Jordan High School bus driver looked out
of his kitchen window early on the morning of December 1, 1938 and remarked
to his wife, ‘It's going to be an ugly trip so I'm leaving right now.
I'll have to take it easy in this fog. Take care of yourself. I love you dear.’
“The driver had gathered his load of healthy, happy teenagers and was
on his way to the school. But the fog was heavy west of State Street. He stopped
at the railroad track. No red light was visibly blinking. No sound could be
heard. But as the bus crossed the track, a freight train going full speed plowed
into the bus. Twenty-four persons perished, sixteen were injured.
“When I arrived at the scene, the victims had already been laid side by
side on the grass near the rails. The driver was among them. The injured students
were taken by ambulance to the Salt Lake County Hospital. The entire Jordan
District was mourning.
“The story of public health in the Jordan School District thus is a story
of joy, sorrow, disappointment, encouragement, growth of the school populace,
cooperation between school administration and parents, expansion of programs
from home visits to mental hygiene and public health. One keeps on crying to
improve the welfare of the children of today who must be the leaders of tomorrow.”