Author recounts victory over polio

Those of us who are old enough remember polio as a horrific disease that often brought death or paralysis.

David Oshinsky remembers. He grew up in New York City, where swimming pools were closed and children were given rigid new rules for living — such as staying out of crowds and avoiding overexertion, "rules impossible to tell a kid."

Oshinsky, a prolific historian with a prestigious chair at the University of Texas at Austin, has written a profound new book, "Polio: An American Story."

"Each newspaper would print box scores listing the numbers of kids stricken with polio," Oshinsky said by phone from Austin. "There was no cure for it. By the grace of God, you got polio or you didn't.

"Then came the exultation caused by the Salk vaccine in the '50s. I remember lining up to get my shots when I was 8 or 9 years old. It is a vivid vision for me."

Yet polio was not new. Historians have traced its beginnings to Egypt in 1500 B.C. Among those affected in the 18th century was Sir Walter Scott. By the mid-1800s, polio clusters were found in Western Europe and the United States.

But it was the so-called 20th century "epidemic" in America that people remember best.

Oshinsky has written a revisionist history in which polio is portrayed as it was — less threatening than we thought. Plus, he assigns major roles to Franklin D. Roosevelt, the most renowned adult to be stricken with the disease, and the bitter personal struggle between Jonas Salk and Albert Sabin over the development of a workable vaccine.

"The March of Dimes," said Oshinsky, "turned a disease not nearly as prevalent as childhood cancer into a national crusade. Polio was not that widespread. The March of Dimes said, 'We make a promise — you give us money and we will find a cure.' And they did. Yes, they hyped the disease, but they found a way to stop polio."

Oshinsky tries to show the way the March of Dimes, controlled by the National Foundation for Infantile Paralysis, developed a new philanthropic system. "They turned it into a national crusade, with millions of people giving a small amount of money each. Then they were the first to use poster children, the first to use public-relations people and public fund-raisers, and they spent the bulk of the money on rehabilitation and research.

"Was there razzle-dazzle? Yes. But it's hard to argue with the end result."