A Hero in Black and White

December marks the 90th anniversary of the Eau Claire flu pandemic that killed 58

David Mortimer |

If asked to describe a hero, you might list superhuman powers, legendary feats that overcome evil, and bright spandex. A hero doesn’t usually come in black and white, and certainly not in wool. Ninety years ago this month, one did, and she helped battle a virus that shut down Eau Claire.

The cold had arrived, but without snow. It was supposed to be the Vigil of Christmas, a time of anticipation. Instead, in the early morning hours of Christmas Eve, 1918, the Sisters at Eau Claire’s Sacred Heart Hospital knelt with heavy hearts in prayer around the hospital bed of one of their own, Sister Florentine.

Her co-workers knew the signs of the end: acute congestion as the lungs filled with fluid, massive pulmonary edema, and hemorrhage. The faces of influenza patients often turned grey. Lips and feet turned purple due to lack of oxygen. Within a day or two, it nearly always meant death by asphyxiation.

These Franciscan nuns were pioneers in a man’s world. They founded hospitals, nursed patients, and staffed departments from admitting to X-Ray. They were seasoned veterans who cared for accident victims, the sick, and dying, but when the influenza epidemic hit Eau Claire, it was like nothing they had ever experienced.

The “Spanish Flu” (or “The Grippe”) was a worldwide pandemic in 1918. Symptoms included severe headaches, an aversion to light, dreadful muscle and joint pains, extreme fatigue, and temperatures as high as 105 degrees. Within an hour, a person could become helpless with fever, delirium, and chills. It was extremely contagious and deadly.

In Eau Claire, neighbors were often afraid to go near a home that might have the flu and were forbidden to go to quarantined homes with flu placards posted on the front door. Because of this, Red Cross relief efforts were organized and some families were found helpless, without food or heat. Children were found burning with fever, lying together in one bed, with parents too sick to help.

Dr. J.V.R. Lyman cared for many flu patients in their homes and at Sacred Heart Hospital. A graduate of Chicago’s Rush Medical College, he studied in Germany, and was an infectious disease expert. Dr. Lyman also served on the City Board of Health, which ordered that every influenza home be quarantined.


    The Board also banned public gatherings. Beginning October 10, schools, the library, moving picture shows, dance halls, pool rooms, and even churches were closed. The Eau Claire Leader printed Sunday “Go-to-church-in-the-Leader page” clergy sermons. Factories remained open, but workers wore germicide-treated masks. There were no November political rallies. Even funerals were prohibited (and sometimes delayed when undertakers ran out of caskets).
Infection control had essentially suspended the usual constitutional rights of free speech and religion. Precautions were taken at Sacred Heart with protective masks, strict isolation of patients, and a visitors ban.

Because of the overwhelming influx of patients — flu cases spiked to 692 in the city — Sister Florentine was reassigned from the front reception office to the influenza sick rooms. Despite personal danger, she devotedly attended the desperately ill in the overcrowded ward.

One week she was working beside Dr. Lyman caring for his flu patients. The next, Sister Florentine was his patient, burning from fever herself in her own hospital’s bed. Despite Dr. Lyman’s best efforts, she lingered five days before she died on Christmas Eve. A Sister described her last moments: “Breathing forth from her dying lips the names of

Jesus and Mary and Joseph, her pure spirit left the fever-ridden body to celebrate Christ’s nativity with the angels in heaven.” Dr. Lyman filled out her death certificate. She was only 32.

The Leader said she was “one of the most popular of the Franciscan Sisters at Sacred Heart Hospital.” Born Anna Maurer, she took the name Florentine when she chose a life of poverty, obedience, and celibate chastity as a hospital sister. She earned a reputation in the community for being a kind of Florence Nightingale.

She was one of eight influenza deaths that week. In Eau Claire County, the flu claimed 58 lives and in the City of Eau Claire there were more than 1,700 cases. Compared to other cities, the fatalities were extremely low thanks to quarantines and bans on public gatherings. Influenza claimed over 675,000 lives nationwide.

Heroes are marked by selfless acts of courage. If you ever have an opportunity to pay your respects to a true hero, one of many that risked their lives in the great epidemic of 1918, visit Sacred Heart Cemetery. Sister Florentine was laid to rest in the gothic shadow of St. Joseph’s Chapel.