Reviewed by: "Spit Spreads Death: The Influenza Pandemic of 1918–19 in Philadelphia" Jessica Martucci "Spit Spreads Death: The Influenza Pandemic of 1918–19 in Philadelphia," parade and exhibit. http://muttermuseum.org/exhibitions/going-viral-behindthe-scenes-at-a-medical-museum/ On September 28, 1918, two hundred thousand Philadelphians turned out to watch a parade and buy savings bonds in support of the United States war effort. Gathered in the crowd that day were nurses, industrial workers, military personnel, seamstresses, and homemakers, but an unknown trespasser also lurked among parade-goers—influenza H1N1. Within six weeks, fourteen thousand people in the city had died in the world's deadliest pandemic to date. A special exhibit at the Mütter Museum, which began in the fall of 2019, invites visitors to learn what it was like to live in Philadelphia at the height of the outbreak. Their programming and exhibition endeavor to link visitors to the past through emotional connections forged through art and the clever use of personal narratives. In partnership with Blast Theory, a UK-based artist group known for its large, innovative, interactive public art works, the Mütter Museum kicked off their [End Page 129] influenza programming with a memorial parade 101 years after the original took place (https://www.blasttheory.co.uk/projects/spit-spreads-death/). The registration process for the parade invited participants to choose the name of an influenza victim to honor and remember. When the day of the event arrived, registrants received large white posters printed with their person's name and death certificate. Encouraged to arrive well in advance of the parade's start time, participants milled around, studying their death certificates and chatting with one another about these long-since forgotten flu victims. I marched in memory of Effie D. Baltian, a student nurse at Philadelphia General Hospital. She died where she had worked just a few days prior, taking care of flu patients. She was 23 years old. Click for larger view View full resolution When the memorial parade began, music, composed especially for the event, struck an eerie and somber tone as prerecorded singers solemnly chanted the names of the dead. Participants played the music for the parade on their cell [End Page 130] phones, creating a surround-sound effect throughout the march. At the parade front, a large and illuminated, white rectangular box pushed its way up Broad Street, carving a path through the heart of Center City. Behind it marched the participants, carrying the names of the dead. Every minute or so, a parade organizer would select a participant from the front and ask them to stand still while two additional glowing boxes passed by them on either side. When my turn came, I stood still and watched the lighted tunnel slip past me. I saw the backs of the "living" walking away from me. My peripheral vision obscured by the glowing boxes, I felt a fleeting moment of fear, isolation, and loneliness before slipping into the noisy crowd of my "dead" companions. Suddenly, one could imagine what it must have been like to see your neighbors and family members getting sick, to wonder if you would be next. The parade created a space where the anxiety and fear from the past felt momentarily palpable again. At the end of the route, the past faded again, giving way to stands set up to dispense contemporary information about the museum and healthcare, including flu shots. The museum exhibit begins with a video of the parade that evoked faint echoes of the participatory experience. Next, visitors encounter the first of several large and beautifully designed museum panels. Following these through the exhibit, one learns about everything from manufacturing during WWI to the reliance on vaccination as a tool of modern public health to the creation and purpose of the Spit Spreads Death parade by Blast Theory. The exhibit displays a relatively small number of objects, including (though not limited to) buttons and stickers handed out during the 1918 parade, a medical specimen of a pneumonia-infected lung, some recreations of pinewood coffins, and never-opened Christmas gifts wrapped by a flu victim. This relative sparseness offers a welcome simplicity...
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