In 1950, the town of Wytheville, Virginia, faced an unprecedented challenge with a polio outbreak that gave rise to a tragic chapter known as a 'Summer Without Children.'

During the summer of 1950, Wytheville, a small town in southwest Virginia, became eerily silent. Movie theaters, schools, and churches all closed their doors, and signs along roads urged travelers to avoid stopping, as the polio epidemic rapidly spread.

Poliomyelitis, the disease caused by the poliovirus, attacks the protective sheaths surrounding nerve fibers. Most commonly, it spreads through contaminated water or food, particularly in places like public swimming pools or amusement parks, and can also spread through contact with contaminated objects or respiratory droplets. Symptoms include headaches, fever, nausea, fatigue, and a stiff neck, but severe cases can lead to meningitis, paralysis, or death. A vaccine wasn't available until 1955.

The outbreak brought devastating news to the small town of Wytheville. As the town struggled to control the epidemic, its resources became increasingly stretched. By the end of the summer, more than 200 people were infected out of a population of 5,000, making it the most concentrated polio outbreak in U.S. history.

A Presidential Battle with Polio

The first major polio outbreak in the U.S. occurred in Vermont in 1894, with 123 cases recorded, including 50 severe instances and 18 fatalities. David M. Oshinsky, author of *Polio: An American Story*, notes that the majority of the victims were young boys, with 68 percent of those affected being under the age of 6. This demographic pattern was also seen during the 1916 polio outbreak in New York City.

It wasn't until 1921, when future U.S. President Franklin Delano Roosevelt was diagnosed with polio, that the disease gained widespread attention. His symptoms began with weakness and numbness in his legs, followed by a fever, and ultimately led to paralysis. Roosevelt spent much of his time in Warm Springs, Georgia, undergoing water therapy during his four presidential terms in an effort to regain strength in his legs. He became the face of the disease, proving that polio could affect anyone—not just children.

In 1938, Roosevelt established the National Foundation for Infantile Paralysis, now known as the March of Dimes, to raise money for polio research and to fund a cure. Families across the country contributed whatever they could, hoping their children wouldn't fall victim to the disease. The foundation supported scientists like Jonas Salk, who worked on developing a vaccine, but a solution wouldn't come until years later.

Despite the increased awareness and funding for research, polio continued to devastate communities every summer. In 1950, Wytheville was the next town to bear the brunt of this relentless epidemic.

The ‘Polio Season’ in Wytheville

As summer baseball kicked off, crowds gathered to watch the Wytheville Statesmen compete against the Wilkesboro, North Carolina, Flashers. Meanwhile, tourists began arriving from the north for their summer vacations, but their plans were interrupted when 'polio season' began, as it had every year across the nation.

“Polio seasons were unpredictable,” writes Oshinsky in *Polio: An American Story*. “Some started in late May and faded by mid-August, while others began in July and lasted until Labor Day.”

In Wytheville, the first polio case of the year was confirmed in late June. It was Johnny Seccafico, the young son of one of the baseball team's players. The community quickly rallied together to raise funds for Seccafico's treatment at a children's hospital.

Another victim was James 'Sonny' Crockett, the son of the baseball team's manager. His sister, Anne Crockett-Stark, has become a de facto spokesperson for the Wytheville polio outbreak, as very few people still remember the event.

'We were told to stay downstairs, my older sister, my little brother, and I,' recalls Crockett-Stark when reflecting on the day her brother was diagnosed with polio. 'They went upstairs, and apparently they performed a spinal tap on my brother, which must have been very painful because they had to hold him down.'

The spinal tap was the only reliable method for diagnosing polio. Once confirmed, Crockett-Stark witnessed the doctors take her brother away in a hearse. She initially believed he had passed away, but the vehicle was simply used to transport him to the hospital, as the town had too few ambulances to manage the crisis.

Keep Out

In response to the outbreak, town officials imposed a strict quarantine that forced families to stay indoors, and signs were posted warning travelers to stay away. Residents kept their windows sealed in both their homes and cars, despite the oppressive Southern heat and the lack of air conditioning. The streets were deserted, playgrounds stood idle, and school books remained untouched, leading many to refer to the summer of 1950 as the 'summer without children.'

With no clear way to prevent the spread of the disease, people relied on old remedies—holding handkerchiefs over their faces, wearing garlic around their necks, and even bathing in bleach. To avoid contact with stores, families turned to their backyard gardens or arranged for groceries to be delivered to their homes.

Parents found themselves tasked with keeping their children entertained indoors for months on end. Schools were shut down, and lessons were broadcast over the radio. As an extra measure, parents burned their children's belongings in an effort to eliminate any risk of the virus spreading.

As a precaution, Sonny Crockett’s toys and furniture were all removed from the house. 'They took his bed, mattress, chest, all his clothes, his Erector set, Lincoln logs, comic book collection—everything,' says Crockett-Smith. 'We lived in an old Victorian house built in 1900, and my father closed off part of the front porch, built a room, and placed the cot there.'

An Epidemic of Rumors

Rumors about the causes of the outbreak spread throughout the community. In an effort to calm fears, a local newspaper published optimistic stories and focused on expert opinions, rather than allowing misinformation to thrive. A chalkboard on the newspaper's wall kept track of the new cases and deaths.

'I think, just like today with [coronavirus], nobody knew exactly what caused it or what was happening,' says Crockett-Stark. 'There were many individuals and groups who had their own theories. So, there were a lot of different versions of the truth.'

The local hospitals were ill-equipped to handle the surge in polio cases, forcing many patients to travel 80 miles to Memorial and Crippled Children’s Hospital in Roanoke, Virginia. The medical staff, already overwhelmed, often caught the virus themselves while treating polio patients.

Although anyone could become infected, not all were treated equally. Black patients were denied care at the segregated Roanoke hospital and instead had to drive nearly 300 miles of country roads to reach Richmond, long before the creation of more direct interstate routes.

Many polio patients were placed in an iron lung, a mechanical device that functioned as a ventilator, covering the patient from the neck down. It worked by using air pressure to help the person's chest expand and contract. A Wytheville man even earned a Guinness World Record for spending 42 years in one.

As in the case of Sonny Crockett, funeral homes repurposed hearses to serve as makeshift ambulances. One even purchased an iron lung to transport patients. Meanwhile, a local shoemaker began crafting leg braces for children suffering from post-polio syndrome, a condition that can occur after the virus, causing weakness in muscles and joints.

Wytheville After the Epidemic

Aid began pouring in to help combat the epidemic, including a $32,000 contribution from the March of Dimes. Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the virus began to recede. By September, health officials claimed that polio had nearly vanished, with cases becoming less frequent and less severe. The person-to-person transmission that had fueled the outbreak in the summer diminished as the weather cooled. Between 10 and 20 Wytheville residents were reported to have died from the disease, though estimates varied between state and local sources.

Much of Wytheville reopened, and schools resumed in October. In 1955, Jonas Salk's polio vaccine was distributed, and a few years later, a nationwide vaccination campaign using a safer vaccine was launched. By the 1960s, mass vaccination efforts had reduced polio cases by half.

Both Seccafico and Crockett survived polio, but they continued to experience lingering effects from the disease. Crockett-Stark still resides in Wytheville. The town’s Thomas J. Boyd Museum now displays an iron lung, along with oral histories from those impacted by the epidemic, serving as a reminder of that terrifying summer.