Spanish flu kills Salidans away, at home

Courtesy photos

Harold Starbuck

Harold Starbuck looks over the graves of three Starbuck children from the family of Seth and Martha Starbuck. The children died of the flu in February 1919 within three days. They included the oldest, Ennis, 13, and 15-month-old twins, Martha and Martin. Harold’s wife, Judy (Paquette) also lost two relatives on Dec. 5, 1918. They were the sister and brother of her grandfather, Omer Paquette. They were his sister, Ruby Paquette, 19, and brother, Henry Paquette, 17.

1916

Ennis Starbuck, the oldest Starbuck child, far right, was 13 years old when he died of the flu. He was followed in the next two days by the youngest family members, twins Martin and Martha. Other children in the picture are, from left, Glen, Paul, Lela, Hap and Elvis. The photo was taken about 1916.

Arlene Shovald

Just about everyone can go back in their family history and find someone who died in the 1918 flu pandemic since it decimated the world population, killing between 50 and 100 million people.

My interest in the flu pandemic is lifelong, stemming from the time I learned that the woman who planned to adopt my dad died of the flu in February 1919.

My dad, his two brothers and two sisters were orphaned when my dad, the youngest, was 4 years old. His mother had died three weeks after his birth from appendicitis and his father was killed in a car accident.

His father and other men were hunting deer out of season to feed their families. The car “turned turtle” as they said in those days, and my grandfather was trapped under the car. His friends ran off and left him, fearing they would be arrested for hunting out of season.

The five kids were farmed out to relatives, and August and Anna Mellstrom (August, I believe, was a brother of my grandfather) intended to adopt my dad. They were in their 30s and childless and were looking forward to raising this little boy. Then the flu hit. This was in Iron River, Mich., in February 1919.

Anna died, and the story is there was 3 or more feet of snow on the ground and Anna’s body had to be taken by toboggan across the field down to the main road where the undertaker picked her up.

My Aunt Jenny (August’s sister) ended up raising my dad. August lived with Jenny and her husband, and as a child I visited them often. I don’t recall ever hearing August speak. He was always sitting at the kitchen table, a sad look on his face, looking down. That is the only memory I have of him.

He lost his future when he lost his beloved wife, Anna, to the flu, and with it the “son” they had planned to raise together.

– Arlene Shovald