Medicine: Unnecessary Epidemic

There is scant excuse for any child anywhere in the U.S. to contract diphtheria, let alone to die of it. Conquest of this disease is one of 20th century medicine's most clear-cut triumphs: it can be prevented by inoculation with diphtheria toxoid in the first few months of life, repeated when the child is about ten. Yet in Detroit last week, 72 diphtheria victims were confined in the city's Herman Kiefer Hospital; so far in 1956, Detroit has had 156 cases with five deaths, most of them in the last two months.

Detroit has one of the nation's most intensive programs for immunization against diphtheria, run by Health Commissioner Joseph G. Molner. On every notification of birth registration there is an invitation to the parents to have the child inoculated. There is a follow-up letter a year later, and a recheck when the child enters grammar school. But many parents fail to act because they have been lulled into a false sense of security by today's relative rarity of diphtheria. For them, the disease has lost its traditional terror. And Detroit's problem is complicated by huge population shifts.

In 18 Detroit grade schools last week, doctor-nurse teams set up shop behind desks in classrooms and readied their needles. At the Clarence M. Burton School, kindergartners wound in a tearful line to the shot-room door, each moppet clutching his school record and a yellow permission slip signed by a parent. Two doctors worked at assembly-line pace—one shot every 20 seconds. At four health centers, preschool infants were getting shots, and adults could have them for the asking. Dr. Molner's goal: 80,000 shots (80% of the children in the worst disease area) before the holidays begin Dec. 21. Detroit health authorities refused to speak of an epidemic, insisted on calling it merely an "outbreak." Whatever their term, the fact is that it could have been avoided.