Why does the terrifying reality of <a href="https://news.quantosei.com/2025/07/06/4-things-to-know-about-the-vaccine-ingredient-thimerosal/” title=”Essential Thimerosal Facts: Vaccine Preservative
Word Count: 52″>polio before vaccines seem like ancient history to many? Perhaps it’s because those who survived it, and their families, often tried to hide the truth. This historical instinct to conceal weakness, combined with the vaccine’s incredible success in making polio rare, has led to a collective amnesia. This forgetting makes it harder to understand the vital importance of vaccination today, fueling modern anti-vaccine movements.
Consider the story of my mother-in-law, Pat Lochridge. She had an impressive career. She was a pioneering journalist during World War II. She covered both the Pacific and Atlantic theaters. She interviewed Hermann Göring twice. She landed on Iwo Jima. Pat was appointed mayor of postwar Berchtesgaden. Her résumé speaks of strength and achievement. It doesn’t mention a hidden struggle with childhood polio.
The Legacy of Hiding Polio’s Impact
Pat contracted polio as a child. Like her successful brother, who was also affected, she likely had a mild form initially. Yet, even mild infections could leave lasting marks. A photo from her childhood shows a half-paralyzed face. Her brother walked with a limp his whole life. But their family rarely spoke of it. An uncle didn’t remember Pat having polio at all. He minimized his own limp. “See,” he’d say, showing photos. “Everyone straight as string.”
This silence wasn’t unique. For families of Texas pioneers, showing any weakness could be dangerous. It meant being left behind. Pat was a descendant of these resilient people. She may have inherited this drive for self-preservation, this need to appear strong. Dogs in a pack might attack a whimpering member. This harsh instinct could have played a role.
Stigma and Shame in the 1950s
In the 1950s, polio was a genuine scourge in the United States. Yet, a strange stigma attached to contracting it. Some families felt shame. They believed you must have associated with “the wrong people” or gone “slumming” to catch it. The irony was sharp. Polio often became more dangerous where sanitation improved. In poorer areas, people might gain some immunity from small, repeated exposures to the virus. Better sanitation reduced this accidental immunity.
But if you caught polio and became disabled, you faced judgment. You were often seen as damaged. You were treated with less respect. Disabled family members were sometimes even sent away. Asylums became permanent homes for some. This deep fear of social ruin drove many families to minimize or outright deny a polio diagnosis.
When Disability Was Public: The FDR Paradox
Not everyone hid their polio, though its public presentation was carefully managed. President Franklin D. Roosevelt was a prominent example. He was Pat Lochridge’s “great personal friend.” FDR contracted polio as an adult. He worked tirelessly to conceal the extent of his disability. He devised a method of “walking” with assistance. He avoided being photographed using his wheelchair. Out of 35,000 photos in his presidential library, only two show him in a wheelchair. The press largely cooperated with this carefully constructed image.
Despite the concealment, how FDR coped became a powerful symbol. His persistence inspired millions. Constituents wrote letters expressing renewed courage. FDR purchased Georgia’s Warm Springs resort. It became a treatment center. He sometimes led therapy sessions there. He was affectionately known as “Uncle Rosey.”
The Birth of Public Philanthropy
FDR also used his personal experience to fight the disease. He organized “Birthday Balls” across the country. These events raised money for the Warm Springs clinic. This was revolutionary at the time. It opened philanthropy to ordinary citizens. Radio commentator Walter Winchell coined the famous slogan: “Dance so that a child might walk.” These balls raised millions. This effort laid the groundwork for the March of Dimes. Mailbags poured in, filled with dimes sent by Americans wanting to help. This funding was crucial. It helped develop and distribute the polio vaccine. Eventually, FDR’s face even appeared on the dime.
FDR’s public persona, though managed, offered a stark contrast to the private shame of many families. His experience showed that dealing with disability could be a source of strength and public action.
The Cost of Forgetting: A Look at Pre-Vaccine Life
Before vaccines, childhood was far more perilous. In 1900, nearly one in five American children died before age five. Infectious diseases like measles, diphtheria, and polio were rampant. They were grimly viewed as “rites of passage.” Often, these passages ended tragically. Death touched nearly every family. Most parents could expect to lose a child. Most children lost siblings. The grief was profound.
Diseases caused immense suffering, not just death. Diphtheria, “the strangling angel,” killed slowly and painfully. Polio caused paralysis. Many survivors needed iron lungs to breathe. Some used these machines for decades. While some diseases were common, polio generated intense fear. Parents sometimes kept children isolated to protect them.
Disability carried a heavy weight. Beyond the physical struggles, there was an emotional toll. Many survivors felt isolated or mocked. One woman, a polio survivor, achieved great success and danced ballet. But she admitted she never “fully recovered” emotionally. Her daughter described her as emotionally distant. This hidden affliction compounded the physical burden.
Echoes of the Past in the Present
The success of the polio vaccine program launched after FDR’s death was a triumph. But even then, challenges arose. Early on, commentator Walter Winchell spread fears about the vaccine. He suggested it contained live virus. His words mirrored modern anti-vaccine rhetoric. While his claims were mostly false, one batch was indeed improperly inactivated. This led to 79 children getting polio out of 1.8 million vaccinated. This rare event is sometimes seized upon by modern vaccine skeptics.
Today, we see a resurgence of vaccine questioning. Declining vaccination rates are a serious concern. In Pennsylvania, for example, MMR vaccination rates for kindergartners recently dipped below 95%. That threshold is needed for “herd immunity” against measles. Falling rates mean less community protection. This trend brings the risk of outbreaks. It echoes the dangerous past.
The appointment of Robert F. Kennedy Jr. to Secretary of Health and Human Services highlights the mainstreaming of vaccine misinformation. RFK Jr. lacks medical training. He has spread unfounded claims about vaccines. A lawyer linked to him even sought to revoke approval for the polio vaccine. There are concerns new HHS policies might require unnecessary placebo trials for older vaccines. This would expose children in the placebo group to the risk of polio itself. Remember, polio can cause irreversible paralysis in 1 in 200 infected children. It can kill 5-10% of those paralyzed.
Polio’s Unseen Scars and Lasting Impact
Before the vaccine, polio victims were commonplace. My small grade school in 1950s Nebraska had two polio survivors. One was known as “Skippy” because of his gait with braces. They struggled while others played. Persuading teenagers, who felt invincible, to get vaccinated was a challenge. Elvis Presley famously got his shot on live TV to encourage them. The success of the oral vaccine led the boomer generation to vaccinate their children. Subsequent generations, having never seen polio’s horror, sometimes take vaccines for granted.
Polio can also cause post-polio syndrome. Years after recovery, survivors can suffer new symptoms. This affects 15 to 80 percent of older adults who had the disease. Joni Mitchell contracted polio as a child. She still suffers from post-polio syndrome. “If [polio] eats the muscles of the heart, it kills you,” she writes. “If it eats the muscles that control the flexing of your lungs, you end up in an iron lung.”
Many famous survivors now share their stories. Mia Farrow was in an iron lung for eight months. Director Francis Ford Coppola recalled crowded hospitals filled with suffering children. Violinist Itzhak Perlman uses braces and crutches. He defies the idea that his playing is only good “for somebody who can’t walk.” These figures bravely show the reality of life with polio’s effects.
Yet, the instinct to hide remains. Pat Lochridge, like FDR, excelled in her field. Perhaps her struggle fueled her drive. But her family prioritized appearing strong. They covered up the truth of her body. Pat herself never spoke of having polio to me. Was she traumatized by childhood hospitalization? Did she face mockery? Did she suffer post-polio syndrome? She never complained.
When families minimize polio’s devastating effects, it makes it harder for the rest of us. It contributes to the collective forgetting. This historical amnesia makes it easier for anti-vaxxers to spread misinformation. Remembering the terrifying reality of life before vaccines is crucial. It reminds us what we stand to lose if vaccine rates continue to fall.
Frequently Asked Questions
Why do many people today seem to forget how devastating polio was before vaccines?
A major reason is historical. Families affected by polio often hid or minimized the disease and its disabling effects due to social stigma and a desire to appear strong. This historical denial meant the full horror wasn’t always openly discussed or documented. Additionally, the polio vaccine was incredibly successful. It made the disease rare in the U.S., leading generations to grow up without witnessing its devastating impact firsthand. This success paradoxically contributes to a lack of understanding or appreciation for the vaccine’s importance.
How did figures like FDR and organizations like the March of Dimes contribute to combating polio?
President Franklin D. Roosevelt, a polio survivor himself, used his experience to raise awareness and funds. He organized “Birthday Balls” across the country, which grew into the March of Dimes foundation. This organization became a powerful force in public health, raising millions from ordinary citizens (“dimes”) to fund research and patient care. The March of Dimes played a vital role in funding the development and distribution of the polio vaccine, leveraging FDR’s public profile and innovative fundraising to combat the disease on a national scale.
What are the potential risks associated with declining polio vaccination rates today?
Declining vaccination rates erode “herd immunity,” the protection a community gains when a high percentage of its members are immune to a disease. For highly contagious diseases like measles (prevented by MMR), this threshold is typically 95% or higher. Falling rates, as seen in places like Pennsylvania, put communities below this level. This increases the risk of preventable disease outbreaks. For polio specifically, potential policy changes or decreased vaccination could expose children to the risk of contracting the virus, which can cause irreversible paralysis or death, especially in those under five.
Remembering the past is the best defense against repeating it.
