University of Florida Thesis Or Dissertation Formatting

HUMAN WASTE-MATTERS: WASTE-WATER, PUBLIC HEALTH, AND THE NATURAL ENVIRONMENT IN TWENTIETH-CENTURY FLORIDA

BRIDGET BIHM-MANUEL

A DISSERTATION PRESENTED TO THE GRADUATE SCHOOL OF THE UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA

2013

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I owe a huge debt of gratitude to the many people who made it possible for me to finish this project. First, the members of my committee, the late Dr. Robert Zieger, Dr.

Vassiliki (Betty) Smokovitis, Dr. Joseph Spillane, Dr. Paul Ortiz, and Dr. Joseph Delfino, and especially my mentor, invaluable advice and guidance through the process of writing the dissertation. Second, archivists and librarians at several institutions provided assistance with research, helping me locate materials that I would never have been able to find on my own. I would like to thank the archivists of the Swarthmore College Peace

Collection, the National Archives and Records Administration in College Park, Maryland, the Department of Special Collections at Johns Hopkins, and the State Archives of

Florida in Tallahassee. My research started at the University of Florida’s George A.

Smathers libraries, and I would like to thank the staff at Marston Science Library, the

Health Science Center library, Library West, the history room at the Borland Library in

Jacksonville, and most especially my friends at the Department of Special and Area

Studies Collections. Mil Willis, Flo Turcotte, David Hickey, John Nemmers, Bruce

Chappell, Pam Cunningham-Willis, Joel Buchanan, Dr. James Cusick, and the rest of the staff helped provide encouragement and a job when I needed one.

I also received encouragement, advice, and research assistance from scholars in the field including Dr. Karen Thomas, Dr. Julia C. Frederick, Dr. Sherry Johnson, Nina

Stoyan-Rosenzweig, and Dr. Christian Warren. I would like to thank them and also some of my fellow graduate students in the history department at the University of

Florida—Michal Meyer, Peggy MacDonald, and Eunhye Kwon provided moral support and shared their own difficulties as they finished their dissertations.

Most of all, I want to thank my family. My mother-in-law, Rose Manuel, my father- in-law, Paul Manuel, and my brother-in-law Christopher Manuel helped whenever and however they could. My brothers, Benjamin Bihm and Brian Bihm, were always available to talk about something other than the dissertation, which was often a much needed relief. My father, Elbon Bihm, Jr., made many trips to Florida over the course of my time in graduate school, bringing with him encouragement, treats from home, and a helping hand, especially with everyday project that school did not allow time for. My beautiful daughter, Rebecca, reminded me that Girl Scout cookies, kittens, and dollhouses are often more important than academics. Finally, my husband, Keith

Manuel, was the one person most responsible for seeing that I finished this dissertation.

His love and support were constant, even on the days I thought this project would never end.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

page

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ...... 3

LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS ...... 6

ABSTRACT ...... 7

CHAPTER

1 INTRODUCTION ...... 9

2 HOOKWORM, TYPHOID, AND THE BEGINNING OF THE FLORIDA STATE BOARD OF HEALTH ...... 25

3 THE GREAT DEPRESSION AND WORLD WAR II ...... 70

4 POST-WAR PROSPERITY, GROWTH, AND CHANGES IN SANITATION ...... 123

5 SEWAGE, WATER, AND THE ENVIRONMENT ...... 156

6 CONCLUSION ...... 194

LIST OF REFERENCES ...... 202

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH ...... 220

LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS

AFSC American Friends Service Committee

AJPH American Journal of Public Health

CCC Civilian Conservation Corps

CO Conscientious Objector

CPS Civilian Public Service

CWA Civil Works Administration

FERA Federal Emergency Relief Administration

FHN Florida Health Notes

FSBH Florida State Board of Health

FHQ Florida Historical Quarterly

FSA Farm Security Administration

JFMA Journal of the Florida Health Association

NARA National Archives and Records Administration

NIRA National Industrial Recovery Act

NSBRO National Service Board for Religious Objectors

PHS United States Public Health Service

SAF State Archives of Florida

SCPC Swarthmore College Peace Collection

WPA Works Progress Administration

USDA United States Department of Agriculture

Abstract of Dissertation Presented to the Graduate School of the University of Florida in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy

HUMAN WASTE-MATTERS: WASTE-WATER, PUBLIC HEALTH, AND THE NATURAL ENVIRONMENT IN TWENTIETH-CENTURY FLORIDA

Bridget Bihm-Manuel

December 2013

Chair: Jack Davis Major: History

Sanitation was one of the defining public health issues for the state of Florida during the twentieth century. This work will uncover the history behind sewage in

Florida, especially the public-policy responses to the problems of wastewater in the post-World War II era. It lays out the process by which the state of Florida created an effective public health agency and how problems with sewage disposal and waste- borne disease shaped its development. A discussion of diseases that includes hookworm and typhoid illustrate how the Florida State Board of Health dealt with specific threats to health, and its limitations in the face of funding shortages stemming from a lack of support from state government. This dissertation also looks at the increasing federal presence, particularly during the Great Depression and World War II.

Federal agencies, such as the Public Health Service, helped the Florida State Board of

Health expand its operations and national legislation worked to protect water resources, while other federal laws allowed unrestrained growth to threaten health in the first place.

In addition, this study will consider how the septic tank, which many public health officials considered to be the answer to sanitation problems during the first half of the century, damaged the environment and threatened public health during the second half.

The story of sewage disposal in Florida shows the close connection between public health and the environment. Effluent shaped the development of the public health establishment in the state, a process that was made more difficult by Florida’s unique climate and geology. Wastewater disposal also had a significant impact on the state’s economy; Florida’s continued success at attracting visitors and new residents rested on its ability to project an image that would be tarnished by pollution of its waters through leaky septic tanks. At the same time, developers, real estate agents, and homeowners attempted to limit the effectiveness of sanitation measures to avoid paying more for sewage disposal. Finally, sewage affected race. Minorities groups had limited access to sanitary sewage disposal methods and were most likely to suffer from waste- borne illness.

CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION

Public health in the United States has long been affected by the presence of human waste. The problem was particularly severe for Florida during the twentieth century. During the first half of the decade, Florida’s population was predominately rural and homes lacked access to a sanitary means of sewage disposal, leaving residents open to waste-borne diseases including hookworm and typhoid. After World War II, the state’s population skyrocketed, making Florida one of the fastest growing states in the nation. Adding to the challenge of unprecedented growth was Florida’s unique climate and geology, which increased the danger of contracting waste-borne diseases and repeatedly showed the inadequacies of both waste disposal systems and the response by state officials. Florida’s history illustrates that as officials found new ways to manage sewage, as the state’s population continued to grow, and as its economy became increasingly tied to tourism, new challenges related to human waste arose to accompany older ones that had been inadequately confronted in the past.

Public health activity in Florida was extremely limited before the twentieth century. Florida was a sparsely populated colony on the edge of empire, and its colonists had to survive with little support from the Spanish and the British. Efforts to protect health and improve sanitation were inadequate. Florida’s colonial experience ended with in 1821, and its population remained small throughout the nineteenth century. There were few cities, and most of citizens lived in rural areas in homes that often lacked the most basic sanitary provisions. Hookworm, a distinctly Southern disease, spread among black and white residents. It affected their ability to work, learn, and function on a day-to-day basis.

This situation, however, changed with the establishment of the Florida State

Board of Health at the very end of the nineteenth century. Progressive ideas about improving health and sanitation would begin to change how the state managed its waste. State health officials began a major program to stamp out hookworm disease that became a model for efforts carried out in other parts of the South. More important, the Progressives also believed in the growth, expansion, and utilization of Florida’s natural resources. Shortly thereafter, the state saw an increase in population. The rapid migration of people seeking economic opportunities or a relaxing oasis helped undermine the progress made in the field of sewage disposal.

This population growth coincided with the economic growth of the 1920s. The boom turned to a bust, though, as Florida and the rest of the country entered the Great

Depression by the end of the decade. A severe decrease in revenue made it harder for the state to fund public health initiatives. Instead, the FSBH turned to the federal government for help, and received aid from a number of New Deal agencies committed to supporting the economy and putting Americans back to work. This assistance allowed health authorities to improve sanitation at a time when the state struggled to provide basic services to its citizens.

During World War II thousands of people moved to Florida because the state’s climate made it a fitting place to train troops. The federal government discontinued most New Deal programs, but new programs designed to support the war effort took their place. Florida benefitted from the presence of conscientious objectors, who built sanitary privies as part of their obligations in lieu of military service.

Once the war ended, the urbanization beginning in the first half of the 1900s increased dramatically as veterans chose to make the state, its harsh summers tempered by the growing popularity and affordability of commercial and residential air conditioning, their home. This unprecedented growth came at a high cost.

Development proceeded so quickly that state and local governments were unable to provide a proper means to dispose of sewage. The septic tank, favored by most developers of suburban housing, was causing more harm than good. Sewage-based pollution was becoming an alarming predicament. The state’s distinct geology—sandy soil on top of the Floridan Aquifer--contributed to the problem, along with climate and sheer population numbers.

During the 1960s and the 1970s, however, state officials began to act more aggressively. Growing environmental awareness among Floridians, severe water shortages, and new federal laws forced Florida’s government to seek out unique and innovative solutions to protect the health of its citizens and visitors. Scientists and engineers employed new water treatment technologies, or reassessed old ones to deal with the sewage problem.

Sewage problems continued in the 1980s and 1990s. Florida still struggled with population growth and sewage disposal. Some individual communities tried to solve these problems on their own. The Tampa/St. Petersburg area found itself battling neighboring counties over the right to groundwater resources and the resulting ecological damage of overdrawing water from the aquifer. This situation forced them to use methods such as wastewater reuse as a water conservation measure. The town of

Cedar Key fought to preserve its clam beds, which served as a major source of revenue

for the small community, while the town of Suwannee had to improve its sewage disposal practices in order to stop water pollution downstream.

In twentieth-century Florida, unrestrained development produced a large volume of human waste that the state and local officials had to dispose of to avoid epidemics of waste-borne disease exacerbated by geology and climate. Waste disposal was one of the defining public health issues of the century that helped shape Florida's public health agencies. It required millions of dollars and thousands of man-hours from the Florida

State Board of Health. In spite of the efforts of public health officials, it still took more than fifty years to convince most communities that it was in their best interest to invest in the infrastructure needed to safely dispose of sewage effluent. By the end of the century, the problem had still not been completely resolved, especially since the state had never provided enough support to the health authorities charged with mitigating the threat sewage posed to health and the environment.

This work will attempt to uncover the history behind sewage in Florida, especially the public-policy responses to the problems of wastewater in the post-World War II era.

In examining these issues, this project will concentrate on several specific questions.

What caused the problems with sewage, and when did they begin? How and when did state officials respond? What factors ultimately forced them to act? Did their actions solve the problem, or even at least help improve the situation? How did Florida’s struggle with effluence compare with the rest of the nation? What does the Florida experience suggest about the dynamic relationship between the state and the public, and the public’s expectations of the state’s social-welfare role? How did race and class affect access to a healthy environment free of waste? What does the experience reveal

about how people organize their lives around natural surroundings, how indeed they adjusted to the historical impact of nature? What was the complex dynamic between

Florida’s alluring natural conditions and Florida’s problem with wastewater?

Sewage disposal was truly one of the defining public health issues during the twentieth century in Florida. The state’s climate and geography worsened problems with sewage disposal and made them more difficult to fix, especially as the septic tank came to be one of the primary wastewater disposal options in Florida. Sanitation also shaped the development of the FSBH from its inception, being one of the costliest projects for the organization, as well as leading to the creation of one of its largest bureaus. In addition, sewage disposal and pollution had a huge impact on Florida’s economy, above and beyond the considerable expense of infrastructure improvements.

Politicians and public health officials were trying to maintain the state’s image to protect the tourism industry. In the first half of the century boosters touted Florida as a health resort, and during the second half it became a tropical paradise. Any hint that Florida was not as perfect as it appeared, such as water polluted by sewage along its pristine beaches, would send ripples throughout the economy of the entire state. Water shortages, caused in part by wastewater pollution, would also restrict the growth that drove the economy in the post-war period. In addition, economic considerations drove wealthier individuals, including developers, real estate agents, home builders, and some home owners to flex their political muscle to weaken sanitary regulations designed to protect health and the environment. Finally, sewage had a significant impact on minority groups within the state. There was a disparity between African Americans,

Hispanics, and even rural residents in relation to their wealthier urban and suburban

counterparts. Minority groups did not have the same access to sanitary sewage disposal facilities and they might have found themselves fighting against a municipality trying to build a sewage treatment plant in their neighborhood. In short, outside of its considerable public health implications, sewage disposal was a major factor in the health of both the economy and the environment. It also served to exacerbate discrimination against minority groups that were most at risk to contract waste-borne illnesses and least able to protect themselves from wastewater pollution.

This investigation of sewage in Florida contributes to the study of public health and its history. Public health is defined as “the science of protecting and improving the health of communities through education, promotion of healthy lifestyles, and research for disease and injury prevention.”1 It focuses on communities rather than individuals and seeks to not only prevent disease but also to understand how diseases are transmitted, how they affect populations, and to educate the public about conditions that can affect their health. Public health includes a number of disciplines, including biology, chemistry, psychology, and medicine.

The history of public health is as varied as fields that comprise it. Many of the works in public health history focus on epidemic disease. One such example is David

Oshinsky’s recent Pulitzer Prize-winning book, Polio: An American Story, which chronicles the March of Dimes’s mission to eradicate the disease and the often- contentious race between Albert Sabin and Jonas Salk to create an effective vaccine.

Other works are much more inventive in their subject matter but are no less important to the study of public health. For example, the humble house fly and its transformation

1 “What Is Public Health?” http://whatispublichealth.org/what/index.html, accessed 25 August 2006.

from a friendly household presence to disease-spreading menace is the subject of

Nancy Tomes’s article entitled “The Private Side of Public Health: Sanitary Science,

Domestic Hygiene, and the Germ Theory, 1870-1900.” Joel Tarr’s book The Search for the Ultimate Sink: Urban Pollution in Historical Perspective contains an essay about the horse and its connection to the unsanitary conditions of the nineteenth-century city. In their own way, these works are demonstrating the importance of health and how public officials, doctors, and engineers worked to protect the health of communities.2

The history of public health can also be used as a vehicle to explore other aspects of society, such as religion, race, ethnicity, gender, public policy, or class. For example, in his classic study The Cholera Years: The United States in 1832, 1849, and

1866, Charles E. Rosenberg chronicles New York City’s experiences with cholera in the nineteenth century. He examines how the response to the disease changed over time, especially the way in which cholera went from being explained as a punishment for the sins of humankind, or a social class, to a move towards scientific and medical explanations of causation. Another example is Howard Markel’s book Quarantine: East

European Jewish Immigrants and the New York City Epidemics of 1892. In it, Markel talks about the typhus fever and cholera epidemics of 1892 and the efforts of public health officials to quarantine Eastern European Jews, whose poverty and ethnicity made them the target of nativist sentiment. The Jewish immigrant’s position in society-- often uneducated, poor, and different from their fellow white Protestant city dwellers-- made them a convenient scapegoat for the cause of these epidemics. Finally, Laurel

2 David Oshinsky, Polio: An American Story (New York: Oxford University Press, 2005); Nancy Tomes, “The Private Side of Public Health: Sanitary Science, Domestic Hygiene, and the Germ Theory, 1870-1900,” Bulletin of the History of Medicine 64 (1990): 509-39; and Joel A. Tarr, The Search for the Ultimate Sink: Urban Pollution in Historical Perspective (Akron, OH: University of Akron Press, 1996).

Thatcher Ulrich’s A Midwife’s Tale: The Life of Martha Ballard, Based on Her Diary,

1785-1812 illustrates the connection between medicine and gender. Ulrich used Ballard to describe not only colonial medical practices, but also the role women were expected to play in society and the relationships between women, especially while helping each other during childbirth.3

Within Florida history, the number of works on public health is small. Many of the works on the subject have concerned yellow fever in the nineteenth century and maritime quarantine, but the amount of secondary sources on the twentieth century is limited. For example, Debra Ann Susie addresses the history of midwifery in the state in her study titled In the Way of Our Grandmothers: A Cultural View of Twentieth-

Century Midwifery in Florida, and Gordon Patterson’s recent book The Mosquito Wars:

A History of Mosquito Control in Florida relates the attempts to control mosquitoes in

Florida to protect human health. There are also a couple of books on the history of the

Florida State Board of Health, but these were not rigorously researched. There is a definite need for more studies of public health in the state of Florida, and this dissertation will help fill that void.4

This dissertation is not merely about public health. It is also in part about the cities of Florida and urbanization’s effects on the citizens of those cities. This subject is integral to the historiography of Southern urban history, which is one of the newer areas

3 Charles Rosenberg, The Cholera Years: The United States in 1832, 1849, and 1866 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1962); Howard Markel, Quarantine: East European Jewish Immigrants and the New York City Epidemics of 1892 (Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1999); and Laurel Thatcher Ulrich, A Midwife’s Tale: The Life of Martha Ballard, Based on Her Diary, 1785-1812 (New York: Knopf: Distributed by Random House, 1990).

4 Debra Ann Susie, In the Way of Our Grandmothers: A Cultural View of Twentieth-Century Midwifery in Florida (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1988); and Gordon Patterson, The Mosquito Wars: A History of Mosquito Control in Florida (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2004).

of inquiry within urban studies. What scholars have discovered is that many of the

South’s cities developed in the years after the Civil War and that their economies were linked to manufacturing. In addition, the racial configuration in many Southern cities is what Charlotte scholar Thomas Hanchett would describe as “a pie cut in wedge-shaped slices, or ‘sectors,” in which neighborhoods are defined according to racial and class differences.5 Within Florida’s cities, the process of separation between racial groups was similar to the rest of the South, but the racial dynamic was in many ways more complicated than the average Southern city due to a large Hispanic population in south

Florida. As Raymond Mohl describes in his article “Blacks and Hispanics in Multicultural

America: A Miami Case Study,” competition for jobs and housing caused tension between Hispanics and African Americans. Cross-cultural relations in Tampa’s Ybor

City, by contrast, were more tempered. Florida cities are different in other ways as well.

Most of Florida’s largest cities developed much later than those in the rest of the South, many of them grew much faster than the average Southern city, and a lot of these cities have economies based on tourism rather than manufacturing.6

Florida’s rapid growth has spawned a number of studies on unrestrained development within the state. Spurred by increased consumption and a burgeoning consumer society, the success of attractions such as Walt Disney World brought tremendous amounts of money and building projects into the state. At the same time, there have been drastic and often traumatic changes to the state, such as the destruction of small communities that can be seen clearly in Bill Belleville’s very

5 Thomas Hanchett, Sorting Out the New South City: Race, Class, and Urban Development in Charlotte, 1875-1975 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1998), 3.

6 Ibid.; and Raymond A. Mohl, “Blacks and Hispanics in Multicultural America: A Miami Case Study,” in The Making of Urban America (Wilmington, DE: Scholarly Resources, 1997): 283-308.

personal account Losing it All to Sprawl: How Progress Ate My Cracker Landscape. At the same time, as R. Bruce Stephenson points out in Visions of Eden:

Environmentalism, Urban Planning, and City Building in St. Petersburg, Florida, 1900-

1995, Florida cities have resisted using urban planning to control development because many people are afraid that limiting development would curb economic growth. Rapid growth often outpaces the extension of a city’s infrastructure, including the provision of drinking water and wastewater systems for all residents. While growth-management experts expressed concern about meeting growth with adequate water supplies, waste management was a concern that could not be overlooked. Thus, sewage disposal is one means of understanding the ramifications of rapid growth based on a particular economic base for the citizens of Florida.7

Sewage also sheds light on the intimate connections between the city and the environment. Environmental history itself is concerned with the effect that people have on the environment and how the environment, in turn, shapes society. Many people forget that urban areas are a vital part of local ecosystems. Within the study of the urban environment, there are quite a few studies related to sewage and urban infrastructure. Most of these studies focus on the North, however. One of the best known works is Martin Melosi’s The Sanitary City: Urban Infrastructure in America from

Colonial Times to the Present, in which the author traces the development of water systems, sewage treatment, and sanitation in urban areas--from dumping waste into the

7 Bill Belleville, Losing it All to Sprawl: How Progress Ate My Cracker Landscape (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2006); and R. Bruce Stephenson, Visions of Eden: Environmentalism, Urban Planning, and City Building in St. Petersburg, Florida, 1900-1995 (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1997).

same water used for drinking to the creation of modern sewage disposal facilities.8 Joel

Tarr’s essay “Decisions about Wastewater Technology: 1850-1932” is about cities’ decisions “to adopt the water-carriage technology of waste removal; to build largely combined rather than separate sewer systems, and, in most cities, to treat and purify drinking water rather than treat sewage.”9

These two studies and others on sewage infrastructure are primarily concerned with the cities of the North, especially New York. There are far fewer works on the

South, and the body of works on Florida is particularly small. Most of the information of sewerage systems in Florida cities is peripheral to other subjects, such as that in Nelson

Blake’s Land into Water-Water into Land: A History of Water Management in Florida or

Luther J. Carter’s. The Florida Experience: Land and Water Policy in a Growth State.

In fact, there are few works that deal specifically with sewage disposal in Florida cities, either in a public health or an environmental context. One of the only projects on this subject is by Marlin Kann, a student at Florida International University, who wrote a master's thesis on sewage in Miami.10

The body of secondary work concerning rural waste disposal is even smaller than that concerning urban Florida. Although Florida’s population began to concentrate in cities during the course of the twentieth century, it is impossible to adequately discuss human waste in Florida cities without addressing the problems in the hinterland. As

8 Martin Melosi, The Sanitary City: Urban Infrastructure in America from Colonial Times to the Present (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2000).

9 Joel Tarr, “Decisions about Wastewater Technology: 1850-1932,” in The Search for the Ultimate Sink: Urban Pollution in Historical Perspective (Akron, OH: University of Akron Press, 1996), 104.

10 Nelson Manfred Blake, Land into Water-Water into Land: A History of Water Management in Florida (Tallahassee: University Presses of Florida: 1980); Luther J. Carter, The Florida Experience: Land and Water Policy in a Growth State (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1974); Marlin Kann, "Sewage Systems of Dade County, 1890-1985,"(M.A. thesis, Florida International University, 2009).

William Cronon points out in his mega-opus Nature’s Metropolis: Chicago and the Great

West, cities and the surrounding countryside are intimately connected both economically and ecologically. Studying the countryside is important to this project in that several of its major topics, such as anti-hookworm programs and exploitation of migrant workers, take place outside cities. Although Florida eventually accommodated a large urban population, there are still a lot of people who live in rural areas, and for a long time Florida politics was controlled by a group of politicians from this region. In addition, a large part of the rural population was involved in agriculture, which was and is one of the driving forces behind the state’s economy. Finally, the lack of infrastructure has saddled rural areas with particularly acute swage problems.11

Within the historiography of the rural South during the twentieth century, hookworm has received considerable attention. In his book Germ of Laziness:

Rockefeller Philanthropy and Public Health in the New South, John Ettling studies the anti-hookworm campaign initiated by the Rockefeller Sanitary Commission to wipe out hookworm in the South. William Link examines the connection between health education and Southern schools systems in “Privies, Progressivism, and Public

Schools: Health Reform and Education in the Rural South, 1909-1920.” Within Florida history, Albert Hardy and May Pincheon’s book Millstones and Milestones: Florida’s

Public Health from 1889 and Harry Frank Farmer’s thesis “The Hookworm Eradication

11 William Cronon, Nature’s Metropolis: Chicago and the Great West (New York: W. W. Norton, 1991).

Program in the South, 1909-1925” both briefly mention the Florida State Board of

Health’s efforts to eradicate hookworm.12

In addition to the work done by the State Board of Health, the Cooperative

Agricultural Extension Service and its home demonstration agents tried to reduce cases of hookworm infection among farmers and their families. The duties of these demonstration agents included teaching rural families better farming practices, the proper way to preserve foods, and the role of sanitation in preventing illness. In short, the home demonstration agent program served as “a comprehensive system of rural uplift, via education among rural families.”13 Barbara Cotton produced a very short volume about the origin and eventual demise of home demonstration work among

African American families titled The Lamplighters: Black Farm and Home Demonstration

Agents in Florida, 1915-1965. Kelly Anne Minor also wrote about black home demonstration in her dissertation, “Power in the Land: Demonstration in Florida, 1915-

1960,” in which she argues that the efforts to help farmers were successful and that local participation was the key to this success.14

Finally, this study will include an investigation of migrant farm workers and their living conditions. These agricultural laborers are vital to the success of the agricultural

12 John Ettling, Germ of Laziness: Rockefeller Philanthropy and Public Health in the New South (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1981); William Link, “Privies, Progressivism, and Public Schools: Health Reform and Education in the Rural South, 1909-1920” Journal of Southern History 54 (November 1988): 623-42; Albert V. Hardy and May Pynchon, Millstones and Milestones: Florida’s Public Health from 1889 (Jacksonville, FL: Florida State Board of Health, 1964); Harry Frank Farmer, “The Hookworm Eradication Program in the South, 1909-1925” (Master’s thesis, University of Georgia, 1970).

13 Kelly Anne Minor, “Power in the Land: Home Demonstration in Florida, 1915-1960,” (Ph. D. diss., University of Florida, 2005), vii.

14 Ibid.; and Barbara Cotton, The Lamplighters: Black Farm and Home Demonstration Agents in Florida, 1915-1965 (Tallahassee, FL: United States Department of Agriculture in cooperation with Florida Agricultural and Mechanical University, 1982).

sector in Florida, but they have been, and continue to be, exploited for the sake of profits. Because most of them are in the state illegally, owners of large corporations are able to pay them very little and subject them to hazardous work environments. Any attempts by workers to improve conditions were often unsuccessful because of the fear of discovery by federal officials and the ease with which they could have been replaced by others searching for work. Books about migrant workers include Nano Riley’s

Florida’s Farmworkers in the Twenty-first Century, which is an exploration of migrant worker’s daily lives through the use of photographs and Big Sugar: Season in the Cane

Fields of Florida, by Alec Wilkenson, who explores the culture of work camps and how the laborers were exploited.15

An investigation of migrant workers in a study on sewage might seem out of place, but the living conditions in the camps provide a portrait of waste disposal practices among some of the poorest residents of Florida. Since most of the agricultural laborers were Hispanic or from the Caribbean, an examination of migrant workers will also shed light on the politics of race in Florida. In short, looking at migrant workers will determine whether these groups were at a greater risk from sewage-borne illness than wealthier, white residents and whether or not they were successful at forcing state officials to help correct the problems affecting their health.

Four chapters outline this story. Chapter two focuses on the late nineteenth- and early twentieth-centuries. It describes the status of public health during this time period and the transformation of sanitary practices after the introduction of the germ theory.

15 Nano Riley, Florida’s Farmworkers in the Twenty-First Century (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2002); and Alec Wilkinson, Big Sugar: Season in the Cane Fields of Florida (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1989).

More specifically, it details the development of public health in Florida, from its discovery by the Spanish to the creation of the Florida State Board of Health. It also contains an account of Florida's hookworm campaign and how the disease affected the state. Chapter three covers the 1930s and the 1940s. Efforts to improve public health in

Florida that began with the anti-hookworm campaign and that were complicated by population growth began to slow down because of the Great Depression and the use of state funds for other projects. Federal programs sustained public health activities during the Great Depression, until World War II ended the economic downturn and the state turned its attention to the war effort. The fourth chapter focuses on the 1950s and the 1960s. The post-war years were a time of transition for the state of Florida. Post- war suburbanization and the heavy movement of people into the state strained infrastructure, emphasizing the problems that Florida was having with waste disposal.

Developers installed thousands of septic tanks, which often failed and left homeowners with a huge mess on their hands. Public health officials were convincing municipal authorities to construct sewage treatment plants, but it was a slow process. The fifth chapter is about the 1970s, 1980s, and 1990s. The 1970s were also a watershed for the environment and public health as the environmental movement began to influence public policy. It helped shape federal and state legislation concerning water pollution and waste disposal throughout the country, and inspired the politicians in Florida to institute a number of laws that were often more stringent that federal legislation. In the

1980s and the 1990s, the state continued to search for solutions to sewage disposal problems. It took measures such as increasing funding to communities for wastewater disposal systems and supporting research that investigated new sewage treatment

methods. At the same time, passing and implementing legislation was difficult as developers and other special-interests groups refused to pass laws or managed to circumvent laws that would protect the environment and public health but limited growth.

In addition, individual communities worked to improve waste disposal in order to protect the health of residents and in some cases the industries (including tourism and aquaculture) that formed the lifeblood of their economies.

In short, this work tells the story of sewage in Florida. It examines how human waste affects society and the health of Floridians. Examining the health implications of sewage will add to the relatively small number of works on public health history in

Florida. It will expand the knowledge of the history of public health in the South, especially in regards to the development of wastewater infrastructure. In addition, this study will bring together the urban and rural environments, which have been treated as separate entities when in fact they are intimately tied to one another.

CHAPTER 2 HOOKWORM, TYPHOID, AND THE BEGINNING OF THE FLORIDA STATE BOARD OF HEALTH

Over the course of the twentieth century, the state of Florida changed dramatically. It began in the 1900s with a small population of around 500,000 people and little in the way of public works. By mid-century it emerged into one of the fastest growing states in the nation with increasingly sophisticated means of sewage disposal by century’s end. These developments depended on milestones occurring in other states and countries long before Florida faced the challenges of a rapidly burgeoning population and a decreasing water supply.

The development of public health in Florida started hundreds of years before statehood. While the records on Spanish and British colonial Florida are sparse (West

Florida’s were lost at sea when Andrew Jackson invaded the capital of Pensacola in

1818), the surviving documentation paints a picture of a frontier province on the edge of empire where public health activity was extremely limited, although the influence of

European practices persisted. The health activity that did exist was devoted to providing medical care to Spanish and British soldiers and controlling the spread of epidemics, especially yellow fever.

The diseases that had plagued the British and the Spanish drove public health during Florida’s territorial period and the early years of statehood as well. Medical authorities still directed most of their efforts towards epidemic control, although some of the earliest efforts to professionalize health care providers began to appear. Their efforts did not extend, however, to the creation of a board of health, and the Civil War interrupted the organization of professional societies and governmental agencies. The post-war years were more fruitful in terms of building medical organizations, but the

state still refused to act on public health. In fact, it was a yellow fever epidemic that spurred the creation of the first organized public health system in U.S. Florida. The state’s inability to deal with the spread of the disease and the resultant publicity made it painfully obvious that a group of professionals with the ability to direct public health activities was necessary and long overdue. Once state leaders created the Florida

State Board of Health (FSBH) at the end of the nineteenth century, doctors, scientists, and public health practitioners rolled up their sleeves and initiated programs that targeted disease and hygiene. They turned their attention away from the epidemics

(and urban areas) that had been the primary focus of health activity in Florida and began to consider the issues that plagued rural communities. One of their earliest and most publicized initiatives was the state’s anti-hookworm crusade, which predated similar programs in other parts of the South. The scientific and medical communities were greatly interested in the newly discovered disease in the early 1900s after Charles

Wardell Stiles published his research on the parasite. Eradicating hookworm seemed to be the way to solve many of the problems that made the South lag behind the rest of the nation. After physicians and public health practitioners expressed an interest in the disease, the Florida State Board of Health responded by initiating a program that combined education, testing, and treatment. This plan was unusual; the FSBH usually concentrated on education, leaving other physicians to collect specimens and prescribe antihelminthics.

The FSBH’s effort to curb typhoid was a sharp contrast to the hookworm campaign. Members of the FSBH did not express the same interest in typhoid epidemics, which were a common occurrence, than they did in the newly discovered

hookworm, and their response to the disease was typical of how it treated other health threats. The board looked to education programs, sanitary surveys, and legislation to stop the spread of typhoid. In fact, hookworm went this way as well. The board changed the way it operated the hookworm control program, gradually discontinuing the treatment and testing that had defined it. The disease had not been eradicated, and leadership of the FSBH doubted that it would, as the public did not take hookworm seriously. After the active phase of the plan to eradicate the parasite ended, the state still faced challenges related to hygiene, particularly that of sewage disposal.

Furthermore, the board of health’s job became more difficult as budget cuts reduced resources at the same time that the state saw unprecedented population growth.

Finally, the state faced a crisis at the end of the 1920s when economic troubles that led to the Great Depression affected state programs, including those concerned with public health.

The FSBH and its troubles were many years in the future when Florida was the object of European exploration and settlement of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries.

In 1513, Juan Ponce de Leon led what seems to have been the first European expedition to discover Florida. By 1585, three hundred people lived in St. Augustine, and its permanence as a settlement seemed assured. Life in Florida was difficult, though, and most Spanish attempts at colonization failed. As Florida historian Charlton

Tebeau notes, “it was already becoming clear that the province would be little more than

a military outpost, . . . that it would not attract while settlers and become a populous and self-supporting colony as its sponsors had hoped.”1

In terms of health and health care, the secondary literature includes very little on

Spanish Florida. There is almost no discussion of sanitation, but scholars do acknowledge that as part of their expansion to the Americas, the Spanish brought

European medical knowledge to the New World. The first European doctors in what would become North American sailed with Columbus, and according to one scholar,

“between 1492 and 1569 nearly half the Spanish expeditions to America document the presence of a licensed physician.” 2 Their presence complied with an order from the

Spanish crown requiring “medical personnel” on long expeditions. Spain itself was a leader in military medicine, basing physicians’ training on the latest advances in medicine. Spanish Florida was not lucky enough to be supported by these well- educated doctors.3 In the second half of the seventeenth century, despite requests by the governors in charge of Florida, there were few trained medical personnel in St.

Augustine. Without a doctor or even an apothecary, scholar Robert Hawke notes,

“medical care was administered to the garrison by church friars, convicts or the soldiers themselves.”4

1 Charlton Tebeau, A History of Florida (Coral Gables, FL: University of Miami Press, 1980), 40- 41; and Eugene Lyon, “Settlement and Survival,” in The New History of Florida, Michael Gannon, ed. (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1996), 40.

2 Jorge A. Picaza, “European Medicine in America before Florida’s Discovery,” Journal of the Florida Medical Association (hereafter called JFMA) 77 (November 1990): 972.

3 The first physician in the colony arrived in 1579. His name was Juan de LeConte, and he was a French Hugenot who arrived by chance after being shipwrecked on the North American coast. Robert Hawke, "Military Medicine in Florida: The First 200 Years," JFMA 77 (November 1990): 960-963.

4 Ibid., 962.

After the end of the French and Indian War in 1763, the British gained control of

Florida. The amount of material available on public health in British Florida is similar to that of Spanish Florida. In terms of medical care and public health, the real focus was on the men serving in the forts. Under British rule health care in Florida was still not advanced enough to meet the needs of the populace. Conditions in West Florida were particularly bad. Upon entering Mobile and Pensacola in late 1763, the British found that the soldiers’ accommodations were poor. At Mobile, the ramshackle fort needed major repairs and there were no lodgings available within the city itself because of the large number of people already living there. The only thing available at Pensacola was small bark huts that did little to protect against the elements. In addition to the inadequate housing, the hot, humid weather in these two towns made them the perfect breeding grounds for disease. Soldiers who had just made the long journey from

England and were already weakened by scurvy became infected with typhoid and dysentery. When the summer came, malaria and yellow fever added to the misery in the barracks.5

The British tried to make improvements. In 1765, Dr. John Lorimer, the in- coming surgeon for the military hospitals of West Florida, arrived, followed by the appointment of Brigadier General Frederick Haldimand to West Florida in 1767. When

5 Taking care of the ill soldiers was also a challenge. Both Mobile and Pensacola had hospitals, but conditions there were as bad as the rest of the buildings available to the military. Medical personnel were also in short supply, with six surgeon’s mates and one surgeon to serve all of West Florida. In addition, when the British arrived, sheets, beds, and medicine were in short supply. Shipments from England were infrequent and the ships making deliveries could be (and often were) lost at sea, making it difficult to secure more supplies. Finally, food frequently ran low, exacerbating the lack of medicine and preponderance of disease in the colony. Robert Rea, “Graveyard for Britons, West Florida, 1763-1781,” Florida Historical Quarterly (hereafter called FHQ) 47 (April 1969): 346-47; Laura S. D. Harrell, “Colonial Medical Practice in British West Florida, 1763-1781,” Bulletin of the History of Medicine 41 (November/December 1967): 540; and William M. Straight, “Doctors and Disease in the British Florida’s,” JFMA 63 (August 1976): 616-17.

he saw the state of conditions at Pensacola, he ordered the construction of privies, the establishment of clean drinking-water supplies, and equally important, the drainage of nearby swamps to control the mosquito population. He also oversaw the moving of the stockade away from the barracks to allow air to circulate, the planting of vegetable gardens, and the construction of a new hospital.6

After the American Revolution, Spain gained control of both East and West

Florida. During this time the town Saint Augustine became the center of medicine for both colonies. To care for the sick, the Spanish made repairs to two houses in Saint

Augustine and used them for a hospital.7 Doctors still found that their greatest challenge came from epidemics, however. There were outbreaks of diseases such as smallpox, but by far yellow fever and malaria were more prominent, as they had been throughout the rest of Florida’s colonial period.

Like the British, one of the goals of the Spanish was to encourage settlers to move into the colony. Very few Spanish subjects had an interest in living there but many Americans coveted the land. So many Americans moved there, in fact, that the best thing for Spain, an empire in steep decline, was to let Florida go. In 1819, the

Adams-Onis treaty granted East Florida to the U.S. and recognized that the U. S. was in

6 The improvements at Pensacola and Mobile did help reduce the number of people stricken by epidemics. Nevertheless, soldiers were still susceptible to illness. The problems with procuring food, supplies, and medicine remained. Furthermore, none of these resources, as limited as they were, were available to the civilian population. The people living outside the military establishments suffered from the diseases and also died in large numbers. Rea, “Graveyard for Britons,” 352-53; Harrell, “Colonial Medical Practice in British West Florida,” 546-47; and Straight, “Doctors and Disease in the British Florida’s,” 617.

7 William M. Straight, “Medicine in Florida during the Second Spanish Period,” JFMA 77 (November 1990), 964-70.

control of West Florida. By 1821, the Spanish had pulled out of Florida and it officially became a part of the United States.8

The transition to new leadership did not lessen the needs of the people in

Florida. Malaria and yellow fever continued to plague settlers. In fact, a yellow fever epidemic in that year made it imperative that the new leadership take swift action to protect public health.9 In Pensacola and St. Augustine, provisional governments established to direct the affairs of the territory included boards of health that consisted of a resident physician and members of the city council. One of the purposes of these boards was to oversee the licensing of physicians. In addition, the two boards of health enacted quarantine regulations for all ships entering the harbors of either city to help stop the spread of epidemic diseases such as yellow fever. As the population grew and other towns sprang up, their boards of health were set up in essentially the same way.10

The creation of boards of health and attempts at prevention the spread of epidemics were the highlights of public health activity in the territorial period. The

Legislative Council passed few laws related to health or medicine, and health activities were still fairly limited after Florida became a state. In 1848, three years after statehood, a group of doctors concerned about the state of medicine in Florida and interested in raising standards for all medical practitioners, held a meeting to create a

8 Ibid., 298-99; and Weber, The Spanish Frontier in North America (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1992), 280-281.

9 The epidemic seemed to be very severe. One visitor to St. Augustine, Dr. William H. Simmons of South Carolina, believed that he knew why the outbreak was so bad. E. Ashby Hammond, a scholar who wrote about medicine in Florida during the territorial period, explains that Simmons “recalled St. Augustine as a filthy place, due in some measure to the failure of Spaniards, anticipating removal to Cuba, to maintain a semblance of police regulation. Such conditions, he thought, in combination with the exceptional heat and heavy rains of summer, explained the severity of the siege.” E. Ashby Hammond, “The Medical Profession in Florida, 1821-1874,” JFMA 75 (August 1988): 509.

10 Ibid., 510-511.

state medical society, but the state legislature offered virtually no support for the endeavor.11 Physicians who had been involved in creating the state medical society had to put their own activism on hold once the Civil War began. After the war ended,

Reconstruction placed health matters outside the hands of local and state officials.

While Florida was under military occupation, the Union army was responsible for enforcing the rules passed down from the military brass. General Ulysses S. Grant put into place a quarantine system to protect Southern ports from the spread of yellow fever.12

Once Reconstruction ended, the move toward organized medicine and public health organizations reemerged. In 1874, a group of physicians met a second time to form a statewide medical society. This time, though, they accomplished their goal and created the Florida Medical Association (FMA). With this milestone behind them, the association’s twenty-five members became health advocates. One of their first, and most important, acts was to lobby the legislature to create a state board of health. The doctors in the group felt that it was important to have one centralized organization to direct health matters in the state. This was especially the case concerning quarantines, as each county had separate regulations. Despite its many attempts, however, the

FMA could not secure a state board of health. The state constitution of 1885 added a

11 When they petitioned the legislature to incorporate the society, the motion failed. A few days later, a second bill did pass. This version allowed the group to select five members who would examine applications and grant licenses to doctors. It did not, however, overturn the 1831 law allowing clerks of court to issue licenses, effectively undermining the authority of the group. Ibid., 511-13.

12 Every ship had to be inspected prior to entering port. If cases of yellow fever existed on board, medical inspectors placed the ships under quarantine and transported the sick to yellow fever hospitals. The quarantine system was also useful for stopping the spread of other diseases as well. In 1866, cholera appeared in several Florida cities, including Jacksonville and Pensacola. The quarantine system helped contain the disease before it could cause much trouble. William M. Straight, “Florida Medicine and the War Between the States,” JFMA 67 (August 1980): 749.Jerrell H. Shoener, “The Army and Public Health in Reconstruction Florida,” JFMA 58 (August 1971): 59-62.

provision that provided for both state and county boards of health, and while some counties founded their own boards, no appropriations were made for a state-level board, mostly because the politicians in Tallahassee did not want to extend even a small amount of funding for such an endeavor.13

Their inaction led to a yellow fever epidemic, which in turn forced the state to create an effective public health agency that would go on to address other diseases, including waste-borne ones. From August to December of 1888, the city of Jacksonville faced a major outbreak of yellow fever. Dr. John B. Hamilton, the head of the United

States Marine Hospital Service, suspected that as early as February and throughout the summer of 1888 there were sporadic cases of the illness until August, when the epidemic began in earnest.14 The disease caused chaos inside and outside the city.

Initially, people fled Jacksonville in droves. So many residents left that it became necessary to open refugee camps in the countryside. Of course, there were many who could not or would not leave, which meant that there were still plenty of people left who

13 J. Webster Merritt, “History of Medicine in Duval County, Part XIII: Founding of the State Board of Health,” JFMA 34 (March 1945), 514; and William Straight, “Florida Medical Association the First Seventy-Five Years,” JFMA 61 (January 1974): 20-21, 27-28.

14 Dr. John B. Hamilton, the head of the United States Marine Hospital Service, claimed that an investigation showed the disease arriving in Florida by way of Cuba in 1887.A former hotel owner from Havana moved to Key West and brought some of his “household effects” with him. These items went into storage above a restaurant; later the restaurateur and his entire family died from yellow fever and the disease spread throughout the city. The fever then appeared in Tampa after Italian fruit dealers illegally smuggled produce from Key West (it was illegal to sell fruit from Key West or Cuba during the epidemic for fear of spreading the disease).

Because no one at the time knew that mosquitoes carry yellow fever, many health professionals disinfected inanimate objects, such as mail, that came from areas where the disease was known to exist. It was not until 1900 that a commission headed by Dr. Walter Reed conducted experiments in Cuba proving that the Aedes aegypti was the vector that spread yellow fever. “The Fever in the South,” New York Times, 27 October 1888.

could potentially become victims of the disease. In fact, during the course of the epidemic 4,696 people became ill and 130 died.15

The epidemic became a sensation with the press. One newspaper declared that

“the progress of the disease was, while it lasted, the most engrossing subject that newspaper reporters all over the world could find to talk about, and persons who ventured within the boundaries of the state were looked upon as heroes, while the final disappearance of the disease was hailed with universal rapture.”16 In the middle of all this attention, the state faced criticism for the way it responded to the epidemic. One newspaper said that “it is a remarkable fact that Florida, a coast tropical state, is without a State Board of Health.”17

The publicity and the hardship from the yellow fever epidemic made the legislature realize that Florida could not wait for a state board of health any longer.

Francis Fleming had won in the gubernatorial election in 1888. One of his first acts in office was to call a special session of the legislature to create finally the Florida State

Board of Health. One writer claims that the economic hardship from the previous year’s quarantine was the real motivating factor for Fleming rather than an effort to improve health administration within the state. Whatever the reason, after the special session,

Florida finally had a centralized organization to direct public health activities. The board

15 For those who were not amongst its victims, yellow fever still made life in the city difficult. Business had come to a standstill, and food and supplies were hard to come by due to the quarantine. Counties far away from the city put up their own quarantines that restricted the movement of mail, freight, and people. Politicians were especially affected. Eighteen eighty-eight was an election year, and the quarantines impeded the ability of candidates to work the campaign trail. Joseph Y. Porter, “Looking Backward Over Fifty Years of Health Work in Florida,” Serial No. 1, JFMA 12 (July 1925): 1-2.

16 Untitled article, American Architect and Building News, 10 August 1889, 58.

17 “No State Board of Health,” New York Times, 13 June 1887, 4.

consisted of three members, who then selected Dr. Joseph Y. Porter to be the state health officer.18

The earliest years of Porter's tenure were devoted to maritime quarantine.

Fearing that yellow fever would enter the state via ships from Cuba, the board established quarantine stations at major Florida ports, including Tampa, Jacksonville,

Pensacola, and Fernandina. Eventually, though, the federal government took over this responsibility, leaving the FSBH free to pursue other public health activities.19 The

FSBH introduced several new programs. In 1892, the board began distributing Florida

Health Notes, using the publication to teach the general public about public health and to gain recognition for the board. In 1902, health officials established a bacteriological laboratory, and in 1906 they hired the board's first sanitary engineer to help with the construction of sewer and water systems. Porter created sanitary districts throughout the state between 1904 and 1913, staffing them with newly appointed assistant health officers20. He also created an invaluable resource by starting a library that held materials relating to medicine and public health.21

18 Robert D. May, “Who Killed Cock Robin?” JFMA 73 (April 1986): 318-19; and J. Webster Merritt, “History of Medicine in Duval County,” 515-16.

19 After a few years, the state of Florida was no longer responsible for maritime quarantine. The federal government leased, and then bought outright, all of the quarantine stations, and placed them under the control of the U.S. Public Health Service as part of a move to place the nation's quarantine facilities under the purview of the federal government. Joseph Y. Porter, "Looking Backward Over Fifty Years of Health Work in Florida," Serial No. 4 JFMA (October 1925): 112-13.

20 Surprisingly, the state chose to abolish the county boards of health in part because they had ultimately failed to live up to Porter's expectations. Janice Redington Ballo, who wrote about Porter's tenure, notes, “many county commissions did not consider it worthwhile to fund a board and in those counties where one already existed; they were lax about seeing that the rules and regulations of the state board were carried out." As a result, in 1891, the state health officers convinced the legislature to do away with the county boards of health. In their place, Porter assigned county agents whose main responsibility was to submit monthly reports. Only two of the county health boards survived the purge: those in Escambia and Franklin counties. Eventually, though, these two organizations folded as well. Janice Redington Ballo, "Pointing the Way to Health: A History of the Florida State Board of Health during

Florida’s health officials were active participants in programs designed to improve public health. Progressive-era reformers initiated campaigns that resulted in a lower urban mortality rate and improved health for people across the United States.22 The work of Louis Pasteur and Robert Koch led scientists to gradually abandon the theory that disease was caused by “miasma,” the idea that harmful fumes from putrefying organic matter caused illness, in favor of the view that organisms were responsible for sickness. Scientists also connected insects such as flies and mosquitoes to the spread of illness. Public health officials took the housefly, a common part of the American household, and turned it into a terrifying vector of disease. Evidence from the laboratory served as ammunition in the battle against a dangerous pest that spread typhoid and dysentery. A major education campaign spread the word about the hazards of the fly, and especially targeted women, who were responsible for safeguarding the health of the family and the home. The effort to remake the fly connected the old science with the new. The belief that filth spread disease led public health crusaders of the late nineteenth century to push for cleanliness, starting a major the Administration of Dr. Joseph Y. Porter, 1889-1917," (M.A. thesis, Florida State University, 1996), 36; and Hardy and Pynchon, Millstones and Milestones, 18.

21 Ballo, "Pointing the Way to Health”, 48-52.

22 This move toward improved environmental and health conditions was by no means a straightforward process. Reformers had to cope with resistance from politicians, businessmen, and citizens who would either lose money or be forced to alter familiar behaviors after the implementation of new health regulations. As Judith Walzer Leavitt notes, “Any suggestion that the twentieth century offered a simple progression toward enlightenment and progress would be misleading.” Judith Walzer Leavitt, The Healthiest City: Milwaukee and the Politics of Health Reform (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1982): 239. For more on Progressive-era health reform see, Daniel Eli Burnstein, Next to Godliness: Confronting Dirt And Despair in Progressive Era New York City (Urbana : University of Illinois Press, 2006); Marilyn T. Williams, Washing "the Great Unwashed": Public Baths in Urban America, 1840-1920 (Columbus : Ohio State University Press, 1991); Lorraine Swinston Goodwin, The Pure Food, Drink and Drug Crusaders, 1879-1914 (Jefferson, N.C. : McFarland, 1999); Ruth C. Engs, Clean Living Movements: American Cycles of Health Reform (Westport, CT: Praeger, 2000); and Michael E. Teller, The Tuberculosis Movement: A Public Health Campaign in the Progressive Era (New York : Greenwood Press, 1988).

campaign designed to clean up cities that also extended to the home. This attention to environmental sanitation did not end with the germ theory. According to public health historian Nancy Tomes, “the first incarnation of the gospel of germs simply bestowed germicidal rationales on already trusted strategies of protection: the same practices adopted to defend against damp cellars and impure air also worked to defeat malevolent germs.”23

To assist in the movement towards better sanitation, large cities organized boards of health to regulate waste disposal and disease prevention. They also expanded their wastewater and water delivery systems. Although the advent of the germ theory placed an emphasis on curing diseases rather than preventing them, environmental sanitation continued to be an important. Martin Melosi explains that

“environmental sanitation endured because: rapid urban growth increased pressure on municipal officials for pure water and adequate disposal services; Progressive reform promoted a sound physical environment to impose a ‘civilizing influence’ on urbanites

23 The germ theory had a huge impact on American life and culture. Public health experts often directed their efforts towards women, who were primarily responsible for sanitation in the home. The information homemakers received came from a number of sources, including home demonstration agents, who instructed women how to kill germs while cleaning, cooking, and on their own bodies. Women then passed this information on to their families. The porcelain toilet and other easily cleaned fixtures replaced older ones made of wood. Antiseptic use increased, and manufactures sold products by touting their germ-free qualities. Simpler pieces of furniture came to replace their overstuffed Victorian predecessors, as they would not harbor dust, which could spread microbes throughout the home. Women started wearing shorter, slimmer skirts that would be less likely to pick up dirt, while men shaved heavy beards that could serve as a breeding ground for germs. Nancy Tomes, The Gospel of Germs: Men, Women, and the Microbe in American Life (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1998), 57,68-182; Judith Walzer Leavitt and Ronald L. Numbers, eds. Sickness and Health in America: Readings in the History of Medicine and Public Health (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1978), 343; Martin S. Pernick, “Politics, Parties, and Pestilence: Epidemic Yellow Fever in Philadelphia and the Rise of the First Party System,” in Sickness and Health in America, 243; Naomi Rogers, “Germs with Legs: Flies, Disease, and the New Public Health,” Bulletin of the History of Medicine 63 (1989): 599; Mary K. Theodore and Louis Theodore, eds., Major Environmental Issues Facing the 21st Century (Upper Saddle River, N.J.: Prentice Hall, 1996), 222-23, 226; and Tomes, “The Private Side of Public Health, 510.

through management of city services; and more responsive city governments emerged in an era of home rule to set local objectives.”24

While the Progressive movement influenced some of the country’s largest cities, its effects extended far beyond the major urban areas. The South was participating as well. At the beginning of the twentieth century, most of the Southern states lacked basic health provisions, mainly because a majority of residents lived in rural areas. Modern plumbing was almost nonexistent. Families either relieved themselves in a poorly constructed privy or behind the most convenient bush. The absence of proper sanitation caused diseases such as hookworm and typhoid to spread quickly among rural residents. In addition, the South was far behind the North in terms of health protection and municipal infrastructure because so much of the area was rural, because racism handicapped efforts at reform, and because the South’s economy lagged behind that of the rest of the United States. In the 1910s and the 1920s, however, physicians and public health officials founded state boards of health in every Southern state.

Doctors and scientists successfully fought against yellow fever and malaria. One of the largest Progressive initiatives was to control waste-borne a disease that had only been recently discovered in the United States. Public health officials in Florida took an early interest in this disease, which led to a major education and sanitation campaign. These efforts also attracted the attention of a national public health organization that was committing a large sum of money to eradicate this same illness. The disease in

24 Melosi, The Sanitary City, 71-72.

question was hookworm, and in 1908 the Florida State Board of Health began an initiative against the infirmity that would not reach its end for decades.25

Hookworm has gone by many names and carried a social stigma nearly as horrible as the disease itself. Spread through a combination of poor sanitation and walking barefooted, it has been called "the vampire of the South" and the "germ of laziness." Its victims were easily identifiable by their pale skin, (sometimes called the

"Florida complexion"); their stunted growth and distended abdomens; and a propensity to eat dirt. Mark Twain claimed that "the disease induced by the hookworm had been doing its evil work here and there in the earth ever since Shem landed on Ararat, but it was never suspected to be a disease at all. The people who had it were merely supposed to be lazy, and were therefore despised and made fun of, when they should have been pitied."26

25 “Septic Tanks,” Florida Health Notes 4 (July 1909), 107; Ettling, Germ of Laziness, 2, 5; Link, “Privies, Progressivism, and Public Schools,” 623-27; and James O. Breeden, “Disease as a Factor in Southern Distinctiveness,” in Todd L. Savitt and James Harvey Young, eds, Disease and Distinctiveness in the American South (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1988), 14-15.

26 Twain was correct in his assumption that hookworm had been around for a long time. Some scholars claim that there is evidence suggesting that hookworm existed among the ancient Egyptians, although scientists did not discover hookworms until the 1780s. In 1782, a German zoologist saw hookworms in a badger, while in 1789 another German researcher located them in a fox. No one had identified a species of hookworm in humans until 1843, when an Italian scientist came across the parasite during the course of an autopsy. Despite the discovery, and the subsequent work of other investigators that shed more light on the nature of the worm, the disease received little recognition until 1879, when there was a major outbreak among Italian miners in Switzerland's St. Gotthard Tunnel. At this point, hookworm scholars recognized that the anemia suffered by the miners was caused by the parasite. After this revelation, studies also concluded that there were hookworms in other parts of Europe and both Asia and the tropics as well. Mark Twain, Letters from the Earth: Uncensored Writings, Bernard De Voto, ed. (New York: Harper and Row, 1962; reprint, New York: Harper Perennial, 2004), 34.George Dock and Charles C. Bass, Hookworm Disease: Etiology, Pathology, Diagnosis, Prognosis, Prophylaxis, and Treatment (St. Louis: C.V. Mosby Co., 1910), 17-23; Rockefeller Foundation, International Health Board, Bibliography of Hookworm Disease (New York: Rockefeller Foundation, 1922), xi-xix; and Marion Hamilton Carter, “The Vampire of the South,” McClure’s Magazine, October 1909, 618-19.

An intestinal parasite measuring about a half an inch in length is the cause of this disease.27 They thrive in warm, moist climates in regions with sandy soils and enter the body by burrowing through the soles of the feet. The worm’s effect upon the body is unpleasant at best and fatal at worst. Depending upon the severity of the infection, the illness can cause anemia, pica, fatigue, a sallow complexion, stunted growth, malformation of the limbs, delayed sexual development, listlessness, shortness of breath, a swollen abdomen, coarse hair texture, decreased mental capacity, nausea, and heart defects.28

Proper diagnosis of hookworm occurred after a microscopic examinations of feces revealed hookworm eggs, although doctors could identify probable cases of

27 The hookworm’s lifecycle requires a human host for completion. Male and female worms attach themselves to the small intestine where they feed on a victim’s blood. The worms mate and the female lays its eggs, releasing between 5,000 and 20,000 eggs per day. The eggs are expelled from the victim’s body along with feces. Once outside the host, the eggs hatch into larvae if conditions are suitable to ensure their survival. The larvae then enter the body by burrowing through the skin, usually through hair follicles and pores. The worm can go through through any patch of skin, but it is most likely to come into contact with the feet, causing itching and stinging called “ground itch” or “dew itch.” Upon entrance, Necator americanus requires another maturation stage when it travels through the circulatory system into the lungs. The lungs expel the worms into the throat, where the victim coughs them up and swallows them. The worm then travels down the esophagus and makes its way to the small intestine, where it goes through a final molt and becomes an adult before it attaches to the intestinal lining and begins the life cycle again. Robert B. Wallace, ed., Wallace,/Maxcy-Roseneau-Last Public Health and Preventative Medicine, 15th ed (New York: McGraw-Hill, 2008), 474; Stanford T. Schulman, et. al., The Biologic and Clinical Basis of Infectious Disease, 5th ed. (Philadelphia: W. B. Saunders, 1997), 278; Greer Williams, The Plague Killers (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1969), 4; Charles Wardell Stiles, Hookworm Disease and Its Relation to the Negro (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1909), 35; John Ferrell, The Rural School and Hookworm Disease (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1914), 12; Dock and Bass, Hookworm Disease, 21-22; Ettling, The Germ of Laziness, 2; and Hyram Byrd, Hookworm Disease: A Handbook of Information for All Who Are Interested (St. Augustine, FL.: St. Augustine Record Co., 1910), 39, 41.

28 The symptoms in themselves do not usually result in death. In fact, people with light infections and a nutritious diet high in iron may not have experienced any symptoms at all. They could have been carriers and spread the disease without any knowledge that they were doing so. Those with poor diets (which was common among poor Southerners) or with bodies weakened by some other illness such as tuberculosis and having heavy worm burdens would have clearly been suffering from the effects of the disease and would have been more likely to succumb to the infection. Ettling, The Germ of Laziness, 3-4; Byrd, Hookworm Disease, 15; Williams, Plague Killers, 7-8; and Dock and Bass, Hookworm Disease, 132-54.

moderate to severe intensity by a victim’s distinctive appearance.29 Treatment for hookworm usually consisted of Epsom salts and thymol, which is produced from the thyme plant and is still used as a disinfectant and antiseptic.30 Prevention of hookworm disease consisted of defecating in a properly constructed privy instead of on the ground where a barefooted person could step in the waste. A sanitary privy needed to be sealed to prevent the entry of flies or animals and not allow the waste inside to come in contact with the soil. According to Mary Gearing, who wrote for the Texas Department of Agriculture, a sanitary privy "must be arranged so that it can be easily cleaned, doors and ventilators should be carefully screened and there should be well-fitted covers to all seats . . . The receptacle for the waste must be water tight, and should be enclosed in a fly-tight box with a hinged door or lid to permit the easy and safe removal of the receptacle."31 In addition, wearing shoes helped prevent the spread of the disease in areas without sanitary privies. This tactic was not always foolproof, however. Some people who regularly wore shoes became infested because their cheaply constructed footwear allowed infected mud and water access to the feet. Children had the highest

29 One doctor, who was interviewed by a corresponded from McClure’s magazine for a 1909 article, claimed he could tell that a patient had hookworm based entirely upon the skin’s pallor. Marion Hamilton Carter, a suffragist and nature writer and the article’s author, maintained that this pallor “often extends to the gums, which become as white as chalk or paper. The lip lines fade out and the mouth looks like a gash in the face.” Carter also discussed what she called the “peculiar facial expression” of hookworm victims. She described it as “in the older people, a strained, dull hopelessness; in the younger, a fixed, fish-eyed stare.” She went on to say that “once you have become familiar with the stare, you cannot mistake it.” Carter, “The Vampire of the South,” 627.

30 It is poisonous and soluble in both fats and alcohol but only slightly soluble in water, so most patients could have taken it without becoming sick. Doctors used the thymol to kill the worms after clearing away the protective layer of mucus surrounding the worm with Epsom salts. It sometimes took several doses of thymol to clear up the infestation, which doctors administered only once a week followed by an examination of feces to detect the presence of eggs in the stool. The ground itch caused by infestation usually disappeared after a few days, but one Florida physician recommended a teaspoon of carbolic acid dissolved in a pint of water as a way to soothe the red, irritated skin.

31 Mary Gearing, "The Problem of Water and Waste Disposal on the Farm," Texas Department of Agriculture Bulletin, 54 (February 1917): 53.

risk for the disease because they walked around barefooted the most. Untreated, the disease resulted in stunted growth, poor performance in school, and it reduced a person’s ability to work.32

The economic impact of hookworm was considerable. Causing anemia and listlessness, it affected productivity and profit margins. One study focused on agricultural production as means of gauging the effects of hookworm on the economy.

The evidence suggests that before the Civil War, the number of hookworm cases in the

South was small. During the war, poor sanitation and barefoot Confederate soldiers allowed the worm to be carried across the region. The disease led to a significantly sharp drop in income among agricultural laborers between 1860 and 1880. A sharp increase in the 1910s and 1920s corresponded with efforts to eradicate hookworm.

While the campaign failed to rid the South completely of the disease, there were many people who were cured and were able to increase production, thereby increasing the income of agricultural laborers.

The disease had racial overtones as well. Many public health professionals of the time believed that, because the parasite existed in Africa, the disease entered the

United States in the bodies of Dutch- and English-imported slaves. African Americans

32 The study only focuses on four states--Alabama, North Carolina, Tennessee, and Louisiana, but the conclusions may be applicable to the rest of the South as well. Garland L. Brinkley, “The Economic Impact of Disease in the American South, 1860–1940,” (PhD diss., University of California, Davis, 1994). For more on this subject, see Hoyt Bleakley, “Three Empirical Essays on Investment in Physical and Human Capital,” (Ph. D. diss., Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 2002); Ettling, The Germ of Laziness, 3; Williams, Plague Killers, 8-10, 33; Byrd, Hookworm Disease, 23; Farmer, “The Hookworm Eradication Program in the South,” 20; John Ferrell, The Rural School and Hookworm Disease (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1914), 14; and “Principle Governing Treatment of Hookworms,” Florida Health Notes 3 (October 1908): 244-45; C. W. Stiles, The Sanitary Privy, U.S. Department of Agriculture Farmers' Bulletin 463 (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1911), 15; “A Physician’s Plea for a Revolution in the American Shoe,” Florida Health Notes 7 (March 1912): 46 (hereafter called FHN); Edward K. Strong, Jr. Effects of Hookworm Disease on the Mental and Physical Development of the Children (New York: The Rockefeller Foundation, 1916), 9; and Link, “Privies, Progressivism, and Public Schools,” 629.

also seemed to suffer less, perhaps because the presence of hookworm in Africa led to an immunity or at least reduction of the hookworm’s effect upon the bodies of Africans.

This apparent advantage helped feed racial stereotypes.33 Instead, hookworm offered an alternative to the eugenics argument: poor sanitation spread a disease that caused the people of the South to be different. Progressive reformers wanted to teach rural

Southerners about hygiene and to rid them of hookworm, which would have allowed for these seemingly lazy, backwards people to be redeemed. Once free of their burden, the rural Southerner could have become a productive member of the workforce of the new factories and mills that were changing the face of the Southern economy.34

Hookworms had been identified in the late eighteenth century by European scientists, but the United States was a bit of a newcomer to the study of the disease.

The first reported case in the United States appeared in 1893. A major breakthrough came a few years later when an American scientist realized that the hookworm in

American patients was a different species from the one prevalent in Europe. In 1895,

Dr. Allen J. Smith of Texas learned that one of his patients had hookworm. He found a second case in 1901. Smith needed more specimens and turned up six more cases among the medical students working with him. All six had been living in Texas for their entire lives. Meanwhile, Dr. Charles Wardell Stiles, a zoologist with the Bureau of

Animal Industry, had also taken an interest in the parasite. One of his students, Bailey

33 Stiles himself said that “whether this line of thought be considered justified or not, we must all frankly face the fact that the negro does have hookworm infection, and because of his insanitary habit of polluting the soil, especially in rural communities, his presence is a menace to others not only in respect to hookworm disease, but also in respect to all other diseases spread by soil pollution.” Stiles, Hookworm and the Negro, 6, 9; Link, “Privies, Progressivism, and Public Schools,” 629; and Ettling, Germ of Laziness, 4.

34 Matthew Wray, Not Quite White: White Trash and the Boundaries of Whiteness (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2006), 65-132.

K. Ashford, had reported cases of hookworm while working in Puerto Rico. Stiles secured some of Ashford's samples and found more hookworms in a patient in a

Washington D.C. hospital. He also contacted Allen J. Smith, who shared some of the samples he had collected. During the course of examining the samples, both men realized that they were looking at a new species. Stiles was able to publish the find first and received credit for the discovery of an American hookworm.35

The movement against the creature draining the South's vitality is usually associated with the Rockefeller Sanitary Commission for the Eradication of Hookworm

Disease. The creation of the commission was a result of the efforts by Dr. Charles

Stiles to drum up support for a program to free Southerners from the ravages of the disease.36 For years he had been unsuccessful at soliciting interest in his plan. Finally, in 1908, he found someone who wanted to put his idea to work. Stiles had partnered with Theodore Roosevelt's Country Life Commission, which was dedicated to improving the lives of rural Americans. Through his work, he met people that knew Frederick T.

35 Carter, “The Vampire of the South,” 619-21; Charles Wardell Stiles, "Early History, in Part Esoteric, of the Hookworm (Uncinariasis) Campaign in Our Southern United States," Journal of Parasitology 25 (August 1939): 285-95; and Allen J. Smith, "Uncinariasis in Texas," American Journal of the Medical Sciences 126 (November 1903): 78-110.

36 Hookworms had been identified in the late eighteenth century by European scientists, but the United States was a bit of a newcomer to the study of the disease. The first reported case in the United States appeared in 1893. A major breakthrough came a few years later when an American scientist realized that the hookworm in American patients was a different species from the one prevalent in Europe. In 1895, Dr. Allen J. Smith of Texas learned that one of his patients had hookworm. He found a second case in 1901. Smith needed more specimens and turned up six more cases among the medical students working with him. All six had been living in Texas for their entire lives. Meanwhile, Dr. Charles Wardell Stiles, a zoologist with the Bureau of Animal Industry, had also taken an interest in the parasite. One of his students, Bailey K. Ashford, had reported cases of hookworm while working in Puerto Rico. Stiles secured some of Ashford's samples and found more hookworms in a patient in a Washington D.C. hospital. He also contacted Allen J. Smith, who shared some of the samples he had collected. During the course of examining the samples, both men realized that they were looking at a new species. Stiles was able to publish the find first and received credit for the discovery of an American hookworm. Carter, “The Vampire of the South,” 619-21; Charles Wardell Stiles, "Early History, in Part Esoteric, of the Hookworm (Uncinariasis) Campaign in Our Southern United States," Journal of Parasitology 25 (August 1939): 285-95; and Allen J. Smith, "Uncinariasis in Texas," American Journal of the Medical Sciences 126 (November 1903): 78-110.

Gates, who served as the head of the Rockefeller General Education Board. When

Gates heard about hookworm, he thought that it was a cause worthy of Rockefeller philanthropy. Gates then approached the Rockefellers, who agreed that the disease was worth fighting and donated one million dollars to the cause. The Rockefeller

Sanitary Commission brought together Styles; Walter Wyman, the Surgeon General of the United States Public Health and Marine Hospital Service; and Wycliffe Rose, who served as executive secretary of the Southern Education Board. The Commission, which was in existence from 1910 to 1914, brought its services to eleven southern states, encouraging the treatment of hookworm and educating the public about sanitation.37

Despite the widespread presence of the Rockefeller Sanitary Commission in the

South, Florida did not seek its help in eradicating hookworm. The state had serious problems with the disease, but Florida's doctors and public health officials had launched their own campaign in 1908 when the Rockefeller Sanitary Commission was still in the planning stages. In fact, members of the Rockefeller Commission traveled to Florida to observe the strategy employed by Hyram E. Byrd, the state’s assistant health officer, and the other member of the FSBH. The program sprang from Florida physicians' interest in hookworm and a fortunate situation that resulted in the state legislature having a sufficient amount of funds to support an anti-hookworm campaign.38

Florida certainly had problems with hookworm. Few cities had the sewer systems necessary for preventing the disease. Some of the larger cities, such as

37 Williams, Plague Killers, 13-14, 22-23, 30, 35; and Mary Boccaccio, "Ground Itch and Dew Poison: The Rockefeller Sanitary Commission 1909-1914," Journal of the History of Medicine and Allied Sciences 27 (January 1972): 30-53.

38 Williams, Plague Killers, 13-14, 22-23, 30, 35.

Jacksonville and Pensacola, did have sewers while other towns relied upon the French- designed septic tank. In 1886, fire destroyed a large portion of Key West. The city had relied upon cesspools and surface drainage for sewage disposal, so city officials thought that it would be prudent to install sewers before rebuilding, and the city hired

Colonel George Waring as a consultant. Joseph Porter explained that "Colonel Waring made not an instrumental survey of the city and island, but suggested a tentative plan by which sewage could be treated through the septic tank plan and afterwards emptied into the sea by pumping."39 Key West ultimately failed to construct Waring's system because there was not enough money for the project. Instead, the city of Tallahassee used the plans, installing "a septic tank system with trickling basins" for its municipal sewage treatment.40 Most of the state had no sewers, however, because a majority of

Florida residents lived in rural areas. For these people, plumbing was almost

39 Porter, "Looking Backward," 113-14.

40 Around 1860, the precursor to the septic tank was supposed to have appeared. Louis M. Mouras of Vesoul designed what came to be called the Fousse Mouras, or the automatic scavenger. Like a modern septic tank, Mouras’s design separated the liquid and solid portions of waste and also reduced the waste’s volume. Despite completing his design in 1860, Mouras did not receive a patent until 1881, the same year that the Abbe Moigno described the device in the Cosmos les Mondes. Kinnicut, Winslow, and Pratt claimed, “automatic scavengers of this type were widely used in Paris because a city ordinance then forbade the discharge of solid material into the sewers.” The modern septic tank took its name from Donald Cameron, the Surveyor of Exeter, who designed a system similar to that of Mouras, but with some improvements. Cameron ran into trouble after being granted a patent in 1899. He tried to collect royalties from engineers in the United States who installed comparable systems. Leonard Metcalf, an American engineer whom Cameron accused of patent infringement after the construction of a sewage disposal system in New England, wrote an article titled “The Antecedents of the Septic Tank.” The essay traced the history of the septic tank back to France, showing that Cameron had not been the first to come up with a method that separated solid and liquid portions of sewage. Leanord P. Kinnicut, C.-E. A Winslow, and R. Winthrop Pratt, Sewage Disposal (New York: John Wiley and Sons, 1919), 139-140; William Dunbar, Principles of Sewage Treatment (London: Charles Griffin and Company, 1908), 82; P. F. Cooper, “Historical Aspects of Wastewater Treatment,” in Decentralized Sanitation and Reuse: Concepts, Systems and Implementation, edited by Piet Lens, G. Zeeman, and G. Lettinga (London: IWA Publishing, 2001), 23; Lloyd Kahn, Blair Allen, and Julie Jones, The Septic System Owner's Manual (Bolinas, CA: Shelter Publications 2000), 135-37; William H. Sirmans, “More Than You Ever Wanted to Know about Septic Tanks: A Short History of Sewage Systems,” Florida Journal of Environmental Health (June 2003): 26-27; and Leonard Metcalf, “The Antecedents of the Septic Tank,” Transactions of the American Society of Civil Engineers 46 (December 1901): 456-71.

nonexistent and families relieved themselves in a poorly constructed privy. The absence of proper sanitation caused disease to spread among rural and urban residents with alarming frequency. As one of these diseases, hookworm became the most prominent waste-borne illness in Florida and throughout the rest of the South during the early twentieth century.41

In 1903, Hyram Byrd received a notice about cases of hookworm disease from health officials in Tampa. From that point on, the state board of health took an active interest in the disease. At first most of the work against hookworm was about publicizing its existence and determining how many people were affected. The board started by targeting doctors and trying to inform as many of them as possible about the disease. Physicians did respond, and many of them began to present papers on the subject at medical conferences within the state. In 1906, the newly created free monthly publication Florida Health Notes allowed health officials to reach out to the public as well. The campaign advanced quickly when Byrd addressed the State

Teachers’ Association in 1908. He told educators about the dangers of hookworm and also sent a copy of his speech to every teacher across the state at the request of the state superintendent of education, who also added all the teachers to the mailing list for

Florida Health Notes.42

In spite of the increased interest in the disease, the FSBH was not able to launch a more active, interventionist program until 1909. It lacked the legal authority to pass

41 Porter, "Looking Backward," 113-14; T. Frederick Davis, History of Jacksonville, Florida and Vicinity, 1513 to 1924 (Jacksonville: Florida Historical Society, 1925; reprint, Jacksonville, FL: San Marco Bookstore, 1990), 320; "Yellow Fever and Key West," The Sanitary News, 8 May 1890, 122-23; and “Septic Tanks,” FHN 4 (July 1909), 107.

42 FSBH, Annual Report of the Board of Health for the Year 1909 (Jacksonville, FL.: State Board of Health, 1910), 20-25 (hereafter FSBH, Annual Report).

public health regulations except for the control of smallpox, yellow fever, and cholera, meaning that it was impossible for the board to do more than send out literature or host lectures. Porter was disappointed in the lack of foresight on the part of the state legislature and asked it to adopt legislation that would allow the board of health to be more proactive. The legislature responded, and in 1909 passed an act granting the

FSBH the ability to "provide by regulations and rules for the preservation of the public health in the State in all its various phases."43 Porter and the board were then able to institute a much more aggressive plan to combat hookworm. Funding for the program came from a tax designed to support public health activities. Additional money came from an account set aside by Joseph Y. Porter to battle yellow fever. Porter had to use the surplus or face the threat of having it appropriated for use by the state legislature, so he applied the remaining balance to the anti-hookworm fight.44

Byrd was optimistic about the success of the campaign, but his expectations were also realistic. He said that the difficulty of changing the habits of an entire population meant that several generations would pass before hookworm would be fully eradicated. Instead of wiping out hookworm completely, as the Rockefeller Sanitary

Commission aimed to do, Byrd strove to ameliorate conditions in Florida. The campaign revolved around education of the populace, particularly of the schoolchildren who were at the highest risk for developing the disease. The sanitary condition of most schools was awful, lacking even the most primitive form of privy. Children usually found a spot of relatively private ground in which to relieve themselves, almost guaranteeing

43 FSBH, Annual Report,1909, 27.

44 FSBH, Annual Report 1908, 12-14; Farmer, “Hookworm Eradication in the South,” 72, 74; “Rockefeller’s Munificence,” FHN 4 (November 1909): 209; Ettling, Germ of Laziness, 123; and Byrd, Hookworm Disease, 43.

the spread of hookworm among their classmates. Once infected, the students then spread hookworm to their families at home. To break this cycle, Byrd instructed teachers about hookworm, including its symptoms, prevention measures, and how to identify a child who suffered from the disease. He expected teachers to set an example for the children under their instruction by practicing good sanitary habits. The State

Board of Health also used its authority in 1911 to implement a system of medical inspections in the state’s schools. With only one medical inspector and one nurse available to examine thousands of children, preliminary efforts still yielded the identification of one hundred suspected cases, with twenty-five positive cases. Byrd found the results of the inspections so encouraging that he wanted to increase funding for the program in 1912.45

The State Board of Health’s campaign did not exclude the adult residents of

Florida. Byrd planned to educate the public by producing pamphlets outlining the specifics of the disease. He thought that it was important to inform members of the higher classes, most of whom could read, and allow knowledge to trickle down to the illiterate members of society through speeches, charts, and actual demonstrations of hookworm treatment.46

The best way to ensure the cooperation of Florida citizens, which was vital for the campaign to succeed, however, was to cure hookworm victims. To this end, Dr. E.W.

Diggett and Dr. C. T. Young traveled across the state for purposes of informing rural dwellers of the disease, conducting surveys on the number of cases, and treating a few

45 Byrd, Hookworm Disease, 37, 48, 53; Ferrell, The Rural Schools, 9-19; Stiles, Hookworm and the Negro, 10; and FSBH, Annual Report 1911, 28-29.

46 Byrd, Hookworm Disease: A Handbook, 44, 45, 50.

local citizens. The doctors then turned treatment of local cases over to the community’s physicians. To ease the economic burden of treatment for poor families, the FSBH agreed to pay physicians three dollars for every case treated, provided they filled out a report on each patient and sent a stool sample to the state laboratory for confirmation of diagnosis. Those who suspected a case of hookworm could also send a stool sample to the state laboratory and have it analyzed free of charge. All a person had to do was request a mailing case, place a sample in the vial provided, fill out an information form, and drop the two items in the mail. The FSBH also opened two new laboratories, one in

Tampa and one in Pensacola, to keep up with the increased number of samples.47

By far, the most critical part of the campaign against hookworm in Florida was instruction in sanitation practices. The only way to limit the spread of waste-borne diseases, including hookworm, is through treatment and disposal of human wastes.

Health officials encouraged proper disposal through the construction of sanitary privies for both rural dwellers and urban areas without sewage treatment facilities. A privy of this type had to be dry and fly-free. This required a door that fit tightly and a self-closing cover for the openings in the seat. Wastes would be deposited in a bucket or some other container located under the seat that could be removed for cleaning through an access door or hatch at the back of the privy.48

A second area on which physicians and health officers placed emphasis was the construction of wells. Contaminated drinking water was another way to spread

47 This action was unusual; the Florida State Board of Health had always seen its educating the public about public health to be its proper role, leaving treatment to doctors. Ibid.; Ettling, Germ of Laziness, 124; “Notice,” FHN 7 (November 1912): 177, “If He Only Knew,” FHN 4 (March 1909): 34 and “Hookworms,” FHN (June 1909): 82.

48 “Consumption of Sewage,” FHN 7 (November 1912): 172; “Sewage Disposal for Rural Homes,” FHN (December 1912): 183-84; and Link, “Privies and Public Schools,” 632.

hookworm and other illnesses, so the FSBH published recommendations on well placement in Florida Health Notes. Readers were instructed not to dig wells anywhere near a barnyard or a privy for fear of polluting their family’s water source.49

Both the treatment of hookworm and the emphasis on sanitation helped form a program that Porter heartily supported. In fact, he was very sensitive to criticism of the state's efforts. In February 1910, Dr. Charles Stiles visited Florida to attend a medical conference after being invited by the Tampa Chamber of Commerce. While in town,

Stiles decided to visit several area schools. He examined 1306 children, and determined that 55.9 percent of these children probably had hookworm based solely on their physical appearance. He believed that "the infection was so evident that a microscopic examination would be unnecessary from a practical point of view, although interesting from an academic viewpoint."50 A report of these findings that appeared in

Public Health Reports during the month of March prompted the FSBH to protest. Porter was so upset about Stiles's comments and his methodology that he contacted Walter

Wyman, the head of the Public Health and Marine Hospital Service, and Stiles himself.

Both he and Hyram Byrd were particularly concerned over the nature of Stiles's research. They objected to a determination made in the absence of microscopic examinations and after only three days in the schools. Dr. C. T. Young had physically examined and microscopically tested 1800 children in south Florida, and it had taken him a month. Furthermore, some of the people that Stiles suspected to be hookworm victims had already been told by Young that they were not infected after he viewed the

49 “Hints,” FHN 3 (October 1908): 242.

50 Charles W. Stiles, "Frequency of Hookworm Disease or Ground Itch among Public School Children in Southern Florida," Public Health Reports 25 (25 March 1910): 352.

stool samples they had submitted during his visit. Apparently, several young ladies were also offended when Stiles told them they had hookworm. More important, he seemed to disregard all of the work that the state board of health had done when he remarked that "the number of privies which we noticed were provided with the 'pail system' testified to the activity of the Florida state board of health."51

Furious, Porter quickly rushed to the defense of the work being done to stop the spread of hookworm in Florida. He told Stiles that the report made it seem as if the state were "badly infested" and had done nothing to correct the situation when in reality

Florida had a program that predated the Rockefeller Sanitary Commission. In fact,

Porter claimed that "the board had taken an advanced and foremost position in the amelioration of hookworm and is the only state and the only organization having such a firm basis for this crusade." Byrd believed that Stiles was "continuously exploiting himself" and seemed to be undermining his own cause by exaggerating the number of hookworm cases in Florida. Furthermore, he said that "the hookworm situation in

Florida is bad enough without having it exaggerated; and it is a great injustice to the

State to have it commented upon by an outsider, who chooses only to discuss the prevalence of the disease, and not the work being done to eradicate it." Finally, Stiles's report also upset local residents, earning him their enmity.52

51 Ibid., 353; Letter from Joseph Y. Porter to Charles W. Stiles, 9 April 1910, folder #1265, Box 118, Records of the Public Health Service, Central File 1897-1923, Record Group 90,National Archives and Records Administration (hereafter called NARA),College Park, Maryland; Hyram Byrd to D. U. Fletcher, 8 April 1910, Box 118, folder #1265, Records of the Public Health Service, NARA.

52 The anger that Porter and his fellow Floridians felt was understandable and in some ways justified. Stiles was only in Florida for a few days and based his statements solely on his observations of a small number of patients. Letter from Joseph Y. Porter to Charles W. Stiles, 9 April 1910, Records of the Public Health Service, NARA.

This exchange revealed another aspect of the Florida hookworm crusade: the impact the disease had on the economy. Porter explained that people from across the country had been contacting the state board of health about Stiles's report. He worried that the negative publicity would discourage anyone looking to make Florida their new home, especially since Stiles made it appear that the FSBH was doing little or nothing to correct the hookworm situation. Stiles was concerned about the sanitary conditions existing within the state and Florida touting itself as a "winter health resort," which helped bring in tourists and added to the state's coffers. Some doctors claimed that sunshine was conducive to good health, and that in combination with its mild climate, the state was the perfect location to recover from a variety of ailments, including tuberculosis. Harriet Beecher Stowe, who wintered in Florida in the late nineteenth century, noted that despite its downsides, including occasional cold snaps and that both sandy soil and the extreme summer heat prevented the cultivation of neat lawns, Florida was good for those whose constitutions were adversely affected by the long winters of

New England. She explained that the climate encouraged people to spend time out of doors and that "the census of 1860s showed that the number of deaths from pulmonary complaints is less to the population than in any State of the Union."53 She then encouraged others to build second homes in Florida so that they might also benefit from a winter far from snowy New England.54

It was Florida's reputation as a health Mecca that led Stiles to worry. He claimed that a survey of 114 Florida "farm houses" revealed that 30.7 percent of them lacked

53 Harriet Beecher Stowe, Palmetto Leaves (Boston: James Osgood and Co., 1873), 132.

54 Ibid., 26-39, 116-36; Letter from Joseph Y. Porter to Walter Wyman, 9 April 1910, Box 118, folder #1265, Records of the Public Health Service, NARA.

privies, while a second investigation showed that 26.5 percent of 158 farm houses were without them. He also said even if a home did have a privy, it was probably not going to be a sanitary one. Stiles explained that "invalids, convalescents, and tourists from all over the country are going to Florida and unconsciously living under these conditions of intense soil pollution." He felt that it was only fair for visitors to know what kind of conditions they would be facing if they chose to spend time in the state. Or course, this kind of attention would be detrimental to the tourist trade.55

Unfortunately, the FSBH would not be able to use its hookworm campaign as a testament to its concern over sanitation for very long. Tthe active part of the program did not achieve its goals and slowly came to a halt. An outbreak of smallpox in 1912 forced the state board to cut back on the hookworm work. Also in 1912, the nature of the campaign changed as it followed the lead of the Rockefeller Sanitary Commission and organized a series of dispensaries in the panhandle that examined patients and provided treatment on the same day, rather than sending samples to the state laboratory. By 1913, the state board had stopped reimbursing physicians for indigent care and closed the dispensaries, as Porter believed that treatment was inexpensive and readily available from local physicians. He also came to doubt the efficacy of the program, since without proper sanitation, patients who were free of the disease became infected again. Porter was right to worry. The board had always faced an uphill battle trying to convince the populace that the sanitary privy was the best method of sewage disposal. Many rural Southerners had a hard time being convinced that it was in their best interest to change from what Stiles called "dog sanitation" (defecating out in the

55 Letter from Charles Stiles to Walter Wyman, 18 May 1910, Box 118, folder #1265, Records of the Public Health Service, NARA.

open) to "cat sanitation" (using a privy). Furthermore, historian William Link maintains in his work on southern progressivism that some people were distrustful of physicians and in general failed to take the matter seriously.56

The hookworm campaign continued its downward spiral. Diggett, Young, and

Byrd all resigned in 1913. Although Diggett and Young returned to the board later, the program had already lost a lot of its momentum. In 1914, an effort to acquire aid from the Rockefeller Sanitary Commission met with resistance from Porter, as he wanted a centralized public health organization. Accepting aid from an outside source would have jeopardized this autonomy. At this point, the State Board of Health decided to discontinue the widespread treatment of hookworm victims, leaving this responsibility to local physicians instead. Although the public health activities targeting hookworm had been reduced, the FSBH continued to examine stool samples sent in by physicians and to educate the public about the disease, emphasizing the need for proper sanitation.

Health officials encouraged the use of the sanitary privy, which was sealed to prevent soil pollution and screened to prohibit the entry of flies. They transmitted this information through pamphlets, public lectures, and Florida Health Notes. The board also conducted sanitary surveys in cities across the state and provided demonstrations for citizens in twenty of the counties with the highest rates of hookworm infestation.57

56 Erich P. Horn, “This is your own fight--it is up to you!': Florida's Anti-hookworm Campaign and Southern Public Health, 1889-1917,” (Honor’s thesis, Brown University, 1990), 69-77; Stiles, "Early History . . . of the Hookworm Campaign," 298; and William Link, The Paradox of Southern Progressivism, 1880-1930 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1992).

57 Horn, “This is your own fight,” 83; Frederick Eberson, “Eradication of Hookworm Disease in Florida,” JFMA 67 (August 1980): 739; Hardy and Pynchon, Millstones and Milestones, 31; and FSBH, Annual Report 1932, 91.

The enthusiastic response of the FSBH to hookworm was quite unusual. For the most part, it did not get involved in treatment and specimen collection, preferring to leave those tasks to physicians. Typhoid, a second waste-borne illness that public health officials had been trying to control, shows how the FSBH usually dealt with disease. The disease is caused by a bacterium called Salmonella typhii, which multiplies within the human intestinal tract and spreads mainly through fecal contamination of food and water. The lack of sewers or sanitary toilets in many parts of

Florida meant that the disease could spread easily. In fact, Hiram Byrd considered it one of the four major diseases in the state in terms of the number of people who contracted the disease and the number of deaths it caused.58

One of the largest outbreaks of typhoid came in 1898 during the Spanish

American War. Because of its proximity to Cuba, Florida was the natural launching point for the offensive. The United States Army hastily constructed camps at Tampa,

Jacksonville, Miami, and Key West, which lacked adequate sanitary facilities, in cities that were hardly prepared to host large numbers of troops. The camp at Miami serves as an excellent example for the army's lack of preparation. In 1898, Miami was a city of two thousand people with less than two miles of sewer pipe. The army considered the city to be an inappropriate location for the camp, but the entrepreneur Henry Flagler pushed the military into opening a camp there anyway to drum up business for his

Florida East Coast Railway. Last-minute changes to the camp site meant that the series of troughs that would have channeled sewage into Biscayne Bay, constructed in preparation of the troops' arrival, could not be used. Instead, waste from the latrines

58 Hookworm, tuberculosis, and malaria were the other three major diseases of Florida. FSBH, Annual Report, 1911, 104.

went into barrels that had to be carried to the bay. The waste often spilled out of the barrels en route to the waterfront and many soldiers refused to use the latrines, meaning that raw sewage seeped into the ground and polluted some of the shallow wells used for drinking water.59 This was an ideal situation for the spread of disease, and many of the men contracted typhoid. In fact, a commission investigating the health conditions of the camps in the United States, including those in Florida, estimated that one fifth of the American soldiers involved in the Spanish American war developed typhoid.60

There were special circumstances that allowed typhoid to affect such a large number of people during the war, but for the most part typhoid epidemics in Florida were relatively minor. They did, however, occur practically every year and struck communities both large and small. The FSBH responded by investigating the outbreaks to find their cause and hopefully prevent a reoccurrence. For example, in June of 1914 there were eighteen cases of typhoid in Orlando. The public health officers sent in to conduct the inquiry into the disease plotted the locations where the cases developed; visited restaurants and ice cream parlors where the victims ate to rule out contamination of food; and studied the city's method of sewage disposal. They concluded that flies having access to infected feces through unscreened privies were responsible for the outbreak.61

59 This was not the camp's only source of water. There was a safer water supply piped in, but the men complained because the water tasted bad. When the soldiers continued to drink the water from the wells, disobeying a direct order to the contrary, military leaders had to remove the pump handles.

60 Scheffel H. Wright, "Medicine in the Florida Camps During the Spanish-American War," JFMA 62 (August 1975): 19-26; and William M. Straight, "Camp Miami, 1898," JFMA 74 (July 1987): 504-513.

61 FSBH, Annual Report, 1914, 127-35.

The State Board of Health blamed the fly for spreading typhoid in most of the cases it investigated. The members of the Florida State Board of Health endorsed this theory and made it the center of their efforts against typhoid. They encouraged the use of sanitary, fly-proof privies, or if possible, the installation of a septic tank. The board's physicians relied upon many of the same tactics employed by other public health officials across the country and that they had found useful in the hookworm campaign.

Florida Health Notes included information on typhoid and instructions for the construction of a sanitary privy. The assistant health officers toured the state giving lectures about the dangers of typhoid, while the state press service publicized their lectures and the information they imparted. The board also targeted the disease by offering anti-typhoid vaccinations for free to those who were unable to pay, although few people took advantage of the offer. Finally, the board conducted sanitary surveys of home and businesses to help cities determine their need for sewage disposal systems.

Whether or not the public heeded the warnings, this approach certainly influenced the state legislature. Politicians passed several laws having to do with flies.

First, a 1915 act required hotels, boarding houses, and restaurants to put up screens in kitchens, dining rooms, and hallways to keep flies away from food. Two more statutes in 1915 had similar goals: one required every school to provide sanitary bathroom facilities, preferably removing waste "by water carriage," but at the very least schools had to have fly-proof sanitary privies. The second law required all privies in incorporated towns to be fly proof. It may seem as if the state meant to take a strong stance against the fly, but the FSBH had no "judicial or police health powers," meaning that it could not make anyone comply with the law. In fact, the board did complain that municipalities

were not enforcing these laws. The statutes also failed to take into account all of the privies in rural areas, far from anyone who would prosecute offenders.62

Despite its shortcomings, such as the inability to enforce health legislation, the

FSBH tried its best to improve public health in Florida. This task became harder as the board and the state itself went through a transformation. First, Porter and the physicians working with him came under fire during a meeting of the state legislature.

According to Porter, "the methods of the State Board of Health were unfavorably criticized by a member of the Lower House."63 In response, the board requested assistance from the United States Public Health Service. It sent Dr. Carol Fox to investigate the board's methods and offer recommendations. The greatest change to come out of this inquiry was administrative, dividing the board's operations into seven different bureaus, one for communicable diseases, another for vital statistics, one for health educations, a clerical bureau, a veterinary bureau, and finally, the Bureau of

Engineering.64

Besides this reorganization, the board went through personnel changes. In

1916, Sidney J. Catts became the governor of Florida. When he entered office, he replaced hundreds of state employees with his own supporters, especially the people responsible for helping him win the election. State health officers were selected by the governor, and in 1917 rumors began to spread that Catts was trying to find Porter's replacement. Porter chose to resign instead. In his place, Catts appointed Dr. W. H.

Cox, who had been a member of the state Democratic executive committee and helped

62 FSBH, Annual Report, 1915, 3-4.

63 FSBH, Annual Report, 1916, 8.

64 Ibid., 9.

coordinate the Catts campaign. He only stayed in office for two years, though. Wayne

Flint, who wrote a biography on Catts, explains that "when his political appointees were found to be incompetent or corrupt, Catts summarily dismissed them."65 Supposedly

Cox fell into this category, along with the president of the board, C. T. Frecker. Catts ultimately decided to replace them both.66

This political wrangling did not end after Catts left office. In 1920, Cary A.

Hardee became the governor. He replaced Dr. Ralph C. Green, the second state health officer appointed by Catts, with Dr. Raymond C. Turck, a longtime employee of the board. Around the time Turck became health officer, the legislature decided to reduce the appropriation for the state board of health from one half mil to one quarter mil. The legislature was acting on the recommendation of Joe Earman, another crony of Catts who had served as president of the FSBH. He claimed that the board was receiving more money than it needed. Turck disagreed and felt that he had no choice but to drastically reduce public health programs. He published an article in newspapers across the state to discuss the situation. After reading it, Earman took exception to

Turck's remarks because he thought that the new state health officer was criticizing the previous administration. Earman said that despite the cuts, by running the board as

65 Wayne Flint, "Sidney J. Catts: The Road to Power," FHQ 49 (October 1970): 107-128.

66 The records of the Florida State Board of Health seem to suggest that the issue between Cox and Catts was political rather than a reflection of Cox's work. In a letter to Joe Earman, Catts says, "I hope that you and Dr. Green will go thoroughly into the Cox matter, as Dr. Green can tell you he is in South Florida stirring up merry h____ against me and Van Swearingen. Of course I have nothing to do with Van as he can stand on his own feet, but I certainly have been too good to Dr. Cox to let him run over me and ruin any chances for the Senate." He also said in a letter to Ralph Green, "Dr. Cox is giving me fits in S. Fla." Sidney Catts to Joe L. Earman, 16 January 1920, Box 36, Folder 3, State Board of Health Correspondence and Misc., 6 January-26 September 1920, Record Group 894, Series 46, State Archives of Florida (hereafter SAFL), Tallahassee, Florida; and Sidney Catts to Ralph Green, 7 February 1920, Box 36, Folder 3, State Board of Health Correspondence and Misc., 6 January-26 September 1920, SAFL.

economically as possible, there would be more than enough money to cover its expenses. Although he never responded to Earman, Turck did try to clear the air by publishing a letter in the Bradford County Telegraph. He stated that he disagreed with the legislature's move and that the cuts to the board's programs went on as planned.

The cuts were quite steep. He said that he "found that the new Board of Health had felt obligated to curtail the work of the State Board of Health to the extent of abolishing many future activities including the establishing of branch laboratories, the practical abolishment of the two existing and highly necessary Bureaus of Child Welfare and

Venereal Disease Control and also to curtain the work of the really important Bureaus of

Sanitary Engineering, Vital Statistics, and Diagnostic Laboratories."67

These cuts came at a very bad time. Developers began a land boom that caused money and people to flow into the state. Businessmen hailed Florida as a paradise on earth, and their propaganda attracted visitors from across the country. This sort of attitude was not new; boosterism had been a part of Florida’s development since its frontier days. The situation in the 1920s was different, however. Many of the cities that are now major population centers—such as Miami—began their spectacular growth in the 1920s. This growth was possible because of transportation projects that made

Florida more accessible to travelers. Construction of new highways, railroads, and even airports brought thousands of vacationers and settlers to Florida. As a result, the population soared. In 1920, 968,470 people inhabited the state. By 1930, the influx of

67 FSBH, Annual Report, 1921-22, 2; "Dr. Turck Pithy in Comment on Health Work," n.p., n.d., "State Health Officer Says Reducing Budget Means Curtailing Activities," 8 July 1921, Jacksonville Metropolis, "Giving the Devil His Due, 18 June 1921, n.p., "Open Letter from Joe Earman," 9 July 1921, Ocala Evening Star; and "Letter from State Health Officer," 19 August 1921, Bradford County Telegraph, in Florida State Board of Health News clippings, Volume 12, June 12, 1921-December 1922, Record Group 894, Series 45, SAFL.

people contributed heavily to a population expansion to 1,468,211. Although the land boom that caused this population increase was only temporary, in fact lasting less than five years, the resulting urbanization affected the state permanently. The growth that began in the 1920s continued, leading to major problems with sewage disposal.68

Concern over human waste had to wait, however, because Floridians were more interested in other projects during the 1920s and 1930s. Public health programs took a back seat to development. From 1917 until 1932, the State Board of Health’s budget and many of its programs were significantly reduced, while the population continued to increase. State officials chose to spend money on the exploitation of natural resources instead, funding projects that were largely unnecessary and even harmful to the environment. For example, politicians lobbied for continued support of a plan to drain the Everglades for farming. They also fought for a drainage and levee system around

Lake Okeechobee to prevent flooding from hurricanes while boosters sought funding for a shipping canal across the Florida Peninsula.69

Despite the budget cuts and a larger number of people to serve, the FSBH carried on with its work in the 1920s. The public education program continued, with

Florida Health Notes, lectures, the weekly press service, and pamphlets. In addition, public health officials relied on newer technologies to get their point across, starting in

68 William W. Rogers, “Fortune and Misfortune: The Paradoxical Twenties,” in The New History of Florida, 290-93; and Blake, Land into Water, 20.

69 Pyncheon, Millstones and Milestones, 30-31; Blake, Land into Water, 141-65; Mark Derr, Some Kind of Paradise: A Chronicle of Man and the Land in Florida (New York: William Morrow and Co, 1989): 326-35; and David McCally, The Everglades; And Environmental History (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1999): 58-129.

1916 with an exhibit train that traveled statewide carrying public health information.70

Porter had instituted the program, but the board discontinued it shortly after he resigned. Nevertheless, this commitment to technology remained, and the board found a replacement for the train. In 1921, Dr. Turck borrowed a truck called the Healthmobile" from the American Social Hygiene Association for three months. The board used the truck for a venereal-disease prevention program that included lectures and films.

Motion pictures were very popular with the public, so the FSBH decided to continue showing movies but expanded the range of topics, including films on proper sanitation and diseases that included hookworm. The board acquired its own truck equipped with a generator so the films could be shown virtually anywhere.71

Meanwhile, other programs designed to control the spread of waste-borne illness continued. The state laboratory still tested stool samples for hookworm, while other bureaus provided typhoid vaccines and investigated outbreaks. Sanitation remained the preoccupation of the Bureau of Engineering. Its duties included sanitary surveys and assisting cities with planning and constructing facilities for sewage treatment and disposal. In fact, as cities grew, more of them, particularly the smaller ones, installed sewers and septic tanks. Meanwhile, larger towns, such as Miami and Jacksonville,

70 Porter was instituting a program similar to the health train started in Louisiana by Oscar Dowling, the president of the Louisiana State Board of Health. In fact, Dowling brought his health train into Florida, at the request of Porter, in 1915. "Health on Wheels," Tallahassee Florida Flambeau, 24 August 1915.

71 An unnamed person who gave his or her opinion about the train in a summary of the health train program believed that discontinuing the project was a mistake: "One wholly conversant with the work it [the health train] had done says, 'The only reason I can assign for the abandonment of the train was ignorance. The men who were trusted with the guidance of health activities were wholly unqualified to conduct such work and totally ignorant of the wonderful educational value of the train." R. M. Grahm to Doris M. Hurnie, 18 August 1958, Box 3, Folder 40--Health Train, State SAFL; FSBH, Annual Report, 1916, 10; FSBH, Annual Report, 1921-22, 29-31; and FSBH, Annual Report, 1923-1932, 37.

extended the systems they already had. By the 1920s, the state also saw the installation of the first municipal system to chlorinate sewage.72

The Bureau of Engineering found its duties expanding into other areas. It was responsible for helping maintain a clean drinking water supply in conjunction with the

Bureau of Laboratories. Together the two collected and tested water samples while working with cities to make sure their water delivery systems functioned properly. In addition, sanitary engineers monitored underground wells used to dispose of storm water and sewage, particularly because they could pollute ground water. Finally, as required by law, the bureau certified businesses that shipped shellfish, cultivated in waters that were easily contaminated by waste. In 1924 and 1925, there were outbreaks of typhoid in at least ten cities nationwide caused by oysters grown in water polluted by sewage. In addition to certification, the Bureau began surveying shellfish- growing water to help prevent the harvesting of oysters from waters receiving sewage effluent.73

The tourist trade increased the responsibilities of the State Board of Health as well. Automobile enthusiasts created a new form of recreation called auto camping. It allowed people to avoid the strict schedules of the railroad. The car made it possible to both amble along at a leisurely pace and to leave the beaten path in favor of picturesque country lanes. Families could choose to eat together casually and prepare food to their liking rather than dining in ultra-formal hotel restaurants where the food was heavy and over spiced. It freed women from some of the burdens of housekeeping

72 FSBH, Annual Report, 1921-1922, 158-75.

73 FSBH, Annual Report, 1923-1932, 87-88.

while allowing the whole family to breathe in fresh air. At first, auto campers would pitch a tent along the side of the road, in a friendly farmer's field, or they might have secured permission to stop in a school yard. As the activity became more popular, some cities established camps in the hopes that these travelers would visit their communities and spend money. Besides changing where the auto camper spent the night, the type of person who became an auto camper changed as well. The earliest auto campers were among the more affluent upper and middle classes. With the availability of credit, however, more and more lower-class families could afford a car and happily took to the road, especially since auto camping was less expensive than travel by rail and staying in hotels. There were also people who made auto camping into a lifestyle--they traveled around looking for seasonal labor and lived in tourist camps.74

No matter their class, auto tourists all contributed to one problem: unsanitary conditions on the road and in camp. Many families would break camp, leaving garbage and excrement in their wake. If they camped near a body of water, this effluvia would contaminate the stream or lake near their camp site. Conditions in camp grounds were often just as bad. Some of the camps, both municipally and privately owned, that provided amenities such as showers, toilets, and running water, could be makeshift affairs, insufficient for the number of campers. Diseases such as typhoid, dysentery, and diarrhea spread in the unsanitary conditions created by a large numbers of tourists.75

74 James Belasco, Americans on the Road: From Autocamp to Motel, 1910-1945 (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1979), 7-128.

75 Ibid., 74-76, 188.

Florida's mild temperatures made it one of the top destinations for auto campers.

Health officials quickly found that they had a dilemma on their hands because many of the camps within the state were unsanitary. At first, the board's main response was to encourage cities to clean up their camps. Towns were often reluctant to follow through; most discontinued their camps rather than take care of them.76 Eventually, the State

Board of Health decided to institute a plan requiring each camp to be authorized and permitted by the Boards of County Commissioners. Although most counties promised to comply, only one conducted inspections of its camps. When the board's leadership realized the plan had failed, they knew that their own personnel would have to inspect tourist camps instead. In 1926, the FSBH issued Rule Number 91. This regulation required camps to be situated on well drained lots, that a supervisor be on site, that each camp would have to provide clean drinking water, and the proprietor had to provide flush toilets rather than privies.77

Despite its best efforts, the State Board of Health could not keep up with all the tourist camps in Florida. A New York Times article stated that in 1925 the state had 178 certified camps accommodating anywhere from 200,000 to 600,000 people, whereas it provided only seven sanitary inspectors to serve them. While local health boards kept track of the camps near cities, the establishments far from urban centers had little or no supervision. After the New York Times article appeared, the board rushed in to help stem the bad publicity. Dr. B. L. Arms, the state health officer, wrote an article in The

76 According the Bureau of Engineering, "rather than comply with the State Board of Health regulations the municipalities abandoned their camps and the privately owned and operated camp came into existence. At the close of 1932 tourist camps are practically 100% privately owned and operated." FSBH, Annual Report, 1923-32, 92.

77 FSBH, Annual Report, 1921-1922, 178-84; FSBH, Annual Report, 1923-32, 92-93.

Survey aimed at reassuring the public that the FSBH had the situation well in hand. He explained that "the state board appropriation in this state is on the millage basis and there is a surplus over the legislative budget that can be utilized for 'other regular operating expenses' if approved by the governor." The governor approved the use of these funds to hire extra staff, including "three medical officers, two engineers, three nurses, and three sanitary officers." 78 He also noted that the board sent out monthly lists of certified camps that were available to the public so visitors would be able to identify camps that were following the rules.79

While Arms worked to mollify the national press, E. L. Filby, the FSBH's chief sanitary engineer, tried to assure Florida residents that the allegations in the New York

Times were unfounded. First, he claimed that the article's estimate of the number of people in Florida's tourist camps was greatly exaggerated. He said that of the 180 certified camps, 200 people or less were in each camp, far below the 200,000 to

600,000 that the Times reported. Filby also wanted to emphasize the fact that health laws were being enforced and that there were cases against violators working their way through the legal system. He concluded by saying that "we could use more personnel than we have at the present time, and although we have a great deal to do in our campaign of guaranteeing public health, there is very likely much more being accomplished along public lines than most people generally think."80

78 B. L. Arms, "Pilgrims to Florida," The Survey, 15 March 1926, 679-80.

79 Ibid.; and "Florida's Health Concerns Board," New York Times, 13 December 1925.

80 "Tourist Camps Kept Sanitary, Filby Says," n.p., 9 December 1925, Florida State Board of Health News clippings, Volume 19, 1925-1930, SAFL.

As the FSBH tried to convince the public that it had the sanitation situation well under control, the state itself was going through hard times. In 1925, the real estate market was on shaky ground and a railroad strike stopped both the flow of building materials and tourists into the state. In 1926, a hurricane struck Florida, demolishing homes, destroying resorts, and killing 400 people. Many of the new residents who had moved into the state thinking they had found paradise left after the storm, taking their money with them. The economy could not recover from the blow. Many Florida banks failed and investors lost their fortunes. While the tourism and real estate industries did pick up in 1927 and 1928, this recovery only served as a brief respite. In 1928, another powerful hurricane made landfall in Florida and the spread of the Mediterranean fruit fly ruined much of that year's citrus crop. Finally, in 1929, the beginning of the Great

Depression wreaked further havoc on Florida's weak economy. As a result, the Florida

State Board of Health would change many of its programs and the way they were funded.81

At this point, the public health establishment in Florida was far from ideal. It would never have reached this point, though, without the long period of development that preceded it. Initially, Europe helped shaped public health in what would become

Florida, bringing Old World medical knowledge. After the colonial period ended and

Florida became part of the United States, its new residents found that they faced some of the same conditions as their Spanish predecessors, including yellow fever. Because of these enduring problems, the need for the development of a public health infrastructure was great, but Florida's leaders were reluctant to act until the end of the

81 Rogers, "The Paradoxical Twenties," 294-97.

nineteenth century when they created the FSBH. After passing this crucial milestone, public health practitioners focused on a number of different health initiatives, including an innovative campaign to prevent the spread of hookworm through education and treatment. This program lost its way and eventually settled into a course of action more typical of how it dealt with other diseases, such as typhoid.

During the early 1920s public health took a back seat to politics. After a recommendation from a president of the FSBH who was closely tied to a governor known for his cronyism, the state legislature slashed the board’s appropriation. No amount of persuasion from the state health officer appointed by the new governor could convince the legislature to give the board more money. Instead, it had to cut back programs at a time when the population was exploding and visitors arrived in droves.

The FSBH's troubles were far from over. The increasingly bleak economic situation in the middle and latter part of the 1930s would make it harder for the FSBH to accomplish its goals. Few people suspected that the financial malaise would affect the entire country throughout the whole of that decade. Funding and providing services to

Floridians became more difficult in the face of economic turmoil. After weathering this storm, the FSBH would face adversity again with the coming of World War II. Both events would force public health practitioners to look in new places for the assistance they so badly needed to keep their programs alive.

CHAPTER 3 THE GREAT DEPRESSION AND WORLD WAR II

By the end of the 1920s, the FSBH was firmly established and had created programs to combat disease and improve sanitation. The flush times of the 1920s, however, gave way to the harsh economic reality of the 1930s. With few jobs and falling tax revenues, the people of Florida were in an untenable position. The services they relied on had to be drastically reduced. Nevertheless, the Great Depression was an era of surprising growth for the FSBH. Although initially refusing to accept assistance from outside of the board for fear of losing autonomy, public health officials joined with organizations from both inside and outside of the state, including the

Rockefeller Foundation’s International Health Board and the Cooperative Extension

Service. Most of the help that the FSBH received, however, came in the form of federal dollars that created employment, added to infrastructure, and stabilized the financial sector. In fact, the FSBH was dependent on this money, not only to expand into new areas, but to maintain programs already in existence. Policy shifted to a large degree to a federal partnership. In particular, the FSBH was able to increase its construction of sanitary privies through the support of the Works Progress Administration, the Farm

Security Administration, and other New Deal agencies. The WPA alone constructed over 30,000 privies. Some of these same agencies were also responsible for the construction of new urban sanitation systems, which the state could never have afforded on its own.

The FSBH’s impressive growth continued into the 1940s. One of its major achievements was the establishment of the state’s first sanitary code. The state had finally given the board the authority it needed to help curb the problems with poor

sanitation and pollution. Additional changes had to be put on hold with the start of World

War II. Florida’s population increased as soldiers moved into the new training facilities opening in the state and civilians rushed to fill the jobs necessary to support the burgeoning military establishment. The FSBH also felt the strain in new challenges brought on by the war society, moving to create a health defense program in support of the national effort; to increase its sexually transmitted disease services; and to improve sanitation around training camps. Once again, federal support advanced public health initiatives within the state, which were to some degree shaped by external influences.

Cities with military bases benefitted from the Lanham Act, which helped fund infrastructure improvements, including sanitation systems. In fact, the Lanham Act funded almost all of the construction of sewage disposal facilities in defense areas.

Most rural areas were not eligible for Lanham Act funds, and with the end of the

New Deal, they could not depend on the WPA to build sanitary privies. Instead, conscientious objects stepped in to fill the void. They are all-but-overlooked contributors to Florida’s public health history. They built privies and septic tanks, in addition to other public health projects in the communities they served. Conscientious objectors also perfected the privy-building process at the tail end of the privy era, decreasing the amount of time necessary to construct each unit while also decreasing the cost to homeowners. At the same time, they often had an uneasy relationship with local citizens who objected to their views on pacifism. The Civilian Public Service experiment also demonstrated how newcomers to the state, with different ideas on race, could upset locals after interacting with African Americans in ways that challenged the status quo. Conscientious objectors, along with other federal and state agencies, made

the Great Depression and World II into a time of surprising growth for public health in

Florida, in the face of almost overwhelming hardship.

In the 1930s, the end of the depression seemed far away. Times were particularly hard in Florida; the state had been feeling the effects of the economic downturn since late 1925 when the real estate boom collapsed. As the economic doldrums fell upon other states, Florida's economic woes deepened. Property values had dropped dramatically, commercial and residential constructions slowed to a halt, and many banks shut their doors as well. By 1933, job losses were also so severe that a full twenty-six percent of Florida residents were on the public assistance rolls.1

State leaders had a difficult time filling the holes in the budget caused by the depression. The state constitution prohibited them from using bonded debt to make up the shortfall, so politicians had to be creative as they searched for ways to ameliorate the worst effects of the depression. One of the solutions was to allow pari-mutuel betting and then tax this form of gambling. For several years, state police also tried to save money by blocking entry at the state line of the jobless individuals who thought that Florida's warm climate would provide easy living (in a tent or in a car) and offer employment opportunities not available in other states.2

Despite these actions, the state of Florida still lacked the funds it needed to function. It became necessary to cut the budgets of state agencies. The FSBH felt these losses as keenly as any other organization. The board had faced hard times before; it had struggled to provide services after the Catts administration reduced its

1 Tebeau, A History of Florida, 394, 401.

2 Michael Gannon, Florida: A Short History (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1993), 92.

appropriation by half. In spite of assurances by Joe Earman, president of the FSBH, that the board would have had more than enough money to operate, the opposite proved true. Many citizens were unhappy with the cuts to programs and the board had trouble attracting and retaining employees because the wages it could offer were low.

In the late 1920s, the board had convinced the legislature to increase the money allotted for public health work so that by 1933 the FSBH received the full half mil of taxation to which it was entitled by law. Tax revenues were down, however, so every state office, including the board of health, received less money. The legislature also decided to cap the amount the board received at $179,600, which meant that each

Floridian only contributed 11.9 cents annually for public health work. Henry Hanson, the state health officer, explained that "in a public health program it is generally considered that adequate health protection is not available for less than 50 cents per capita and in many communities $1.00 is considered a proper outlay."3

Although money was scarce, the FSBH continued its work. While the number of homes and businesses in urban areas with some form of sewage disposal had certainly increased, there was still a lack of plumbing in many areas, a situation that contributed to high hookworm infection rates. By 1932, the state recorded at least 250,000 cases of hookworm statewide, with infection rates ranging from 20 to 80 percent in some parts of

Florida. The board's strategy to combat the disease was essentially the same as it had been in the 1920s. Public health practitioners traveled throughout the state giving lectures and handing out educational materials produced by the board.4 The state

3 FSBH, Annual Report 1934, 11.

4 Although popular, the regular showing of public health films came to an end due to a lack of funds.

laboratory still accepted stool samples submitted by doctors to confirm a hookworm diagnosis and inspections of public school children identified new cases of the disease as well.5

In addition to the hookworm control activities, other public health programs persisted as well. The board worked to ensure the safety of water supplies by testing samples from both public and private water sources. It was also still responsible for school sanitation. Rural schools, which struggled to provide sanitary toilets for teachers and students, were a particular challenge. The Bureau of Sanitary Engineering carried on its efforts to build sanitary privies and to assist municipalities with the planning and construction of sewage disposal facilities. This bureau remained in charge of auto camp sanitation as well. Even though the number of tourists in Florida had fallen, the low cost of auto camps sustained their popularity. The bureau inspected camps and granted permits to the operators who obeyed sanitation laws. The job became more complicated by 1934, after the "house car trailer" became popular with campers.

Licensed tourist camps often grew overcrowded and their sanitation facilities failed under the influx of people.6

Despite the budget cuts and initial reductions to most of its programs, the Florida

State Board of Health actually grew during the Great Depression. The FSBH and the state of Florida in general had been a part of a nationwide expansion of public health

5 In 1915, the legislature required the FSBH to examine all of the state's schoolchildren to identify illnesses and physical defects. While beneficial to the children, it was a burden for the board because the legislature did not provide funding to help defray the costs. Hardy and Pyncheon, Millstones and Milestones, 139; FSBH, Annual Report, 1923-1932, 7, 12; and FSBH, Annual Report, 1933, 69.

6 Gradually, the number of tourist camps accommodating trailers increased. By 1937 there were 94 camps that allowed only trailers. In addition, by the end of the 1930s, some proprietors were building small cottages and cabins as rental units. The FSBH required sanitary facilities for these cottages as well and it certified camps with cottages in much the same way as other types of tourist camps. FHN 29 (November 1937), 168-69; and FSBH, Annual Report, 1934, 71.

activity in the first few decades of the twentieth century. In the South, it was the

Rockefeller Foundation and the United States Public Health Service that contributed the most to the increase in public health activity.7

The United States Public Health Service (PHS) was instrumental to the oversight of health activities, as its duties during the early 1900s prepared it to supervise the endeavors of New Deal organizations of the 1930s. The PHS engaged in the promotion of rural sanitation at the same time that the Rockefeller Sanitary Commission did, teaching citizens the importance of the sanitary privy. From 1914 through 1917, it also conducted sanitary surveys in sixteen states, which led local governments to hire public health workers whose primary goal was to encourage proper disposal of sewage. In several states, these programs resulted in the creation of county health units. In addition, the PHS applied its expertise to extra-cantonment sanitation during World War

I.8 The agency helped communities with military installations construct sanitary privies, and it sought to protect drinking water supplies and regulate dairies that provided milk for human consumption.9

After the war, the PHS increased its efforts. E. S. Tisdale and C. H. Atkins, sanitary engineers for the PHS, said that during the 1920s and early 1930s, the organization was responsible for much advancement in public health. They noted that because of the PHS, "state health agencies were strengthened, additional local health services were organized, and sanitary privy construction was carried on as an important

7 Ibid., 222-23.

8 Extra-cantonment sanitation focused on areas outside of military bases.

9 E. S.Tisdale and C. H. Atkins, "The Sanitary Privy and Its Relation to Public Health," AJPH 33 (November 1943): 1319-20.

part of these agencies." Additionally, "personnel were assigned to conduct sanitation surveys and education campaigns, enforce the sanitary laws where necessary, and supervise the construction and maintenance of septic tanks."10

The PHS was partly responsible for the creation of county health units in Florida.

In the 1930s, it was one of the agencies that the board reached out to for assistance.

This was quite a shift from its earlier behavior. Under the tenure of Joseph Porter, the state's first health officer, public health programs were solely within the control of the

FSBH. Porter wanted the organization to be autonomous, which is one of the reasons why he did away with county health boards and refused assistance from the Rockefeller

Sanitary Commission in the 1910s.11 After he left the board in 1917, however, the

FSBH gradually relied upon state and national entities for help with its agenda. In fact, the number of agencies joining with the board increased during the depression.

Between 1912 and 1913, the board had divided the state into five sanitary districts, but this system could not effectively provide services to residents because of

Florida's size and its growing population. The FSBH refused to do away with the sanitary districts even as it faced criticism from observers both inside and outside the state. In 1914 and 1915, Charles V. Chapin, a nationally recognized public health

10 Ibid., 1320.

11 Besides shedding the responsibility for monitoring the potential entry of yellow fever into Florida, the FSBH changed in other ways as well. Surprisingly, the state chose to abolish the county boards of health in part because they had ultimately failed to live up to Porter's expectations. Janice Redington Ballo, who wrote about Porter's tenure, notes, “many county commissions did not consider it worthwhile to fund a board and in those counties where one already existed; they were lax about seeing that the rules and regulations of the state board were carried out." As a result, in 1891, the state health officers convinced the legislature to do away with the county boards of health. In their place, Porter assigned county agents whose main responsibility was to submit monthly reports. Only two of the county health boards survived the purge: those in Escambia and Franklin counties. Eventually, though, these two organizations folded as well. Janice Redington Ballo, "Pointing the Way to Health: A History of the Florida State Board of Health During the Administration of Dr. Joseph Y. Porter, 1889-1917," (M.A. thesis, Florida State University, 1996), 36; and Hardy and Pynchon, Millstones and Milestones, 18.

advocate best known for his work as the health commissioner for the city of Providence,

Rhode Island, conducted a survey of every state health department in the country. He noted that Florida was the only state that did not have health boards at the city and county level. Not surprisingly, he recommended that the State Board of Health hire

"efficient municipal and county health officers" or else appoint a sufficient number of full- time employees to take up this work. In 1921, Joe Earman agreed, saying that adherence to the sanitary district model was a mistake and that the people of Florida wanted county health units. John A. Ferrell, who worked first with the Rockefeller

Sanitary Commission and then with the International Health Board, told B. L. Arms, the state health officer, that he hoped Arms would be able to push through a "brief, simple, harmless-looking clause" that would create city and county health units during the legislative session of 1925. Finally, in the 1930s, the PHS provided the personnel and financial assistance to establish county health units in Florida. Between 1930 and 1932,

Taylor County, Leon County, and Escambia County could all boast about having their own public health units. These units conducted their own hookworm campaigns, provided educational materials, treatment of the disease, sanitary inspections, and assisted in the construction of both sanitary privies and septic tanks.12

12 Taylor County had trouble supporting its health unit so it closed in 1933. It did, however, reestablish the health unit in 1936. In fact, the state nearly lost all of its health units in 1933. In addition to budget cuts at the state level, the federal government almost entirely eliminated the funds that the PHS had been using to support local health units. Luckily, the Rockefeller Foundation stepped in and provided the money to keep Florida's health units running. FHN 25 (July 1933), 83; FHN 25 (August 1933), 100; FHN 20 (March 1938), 35; Charles V. Chapin, A Report on State Public Health Work Based on a Survey of State Boards of Health (Chicago: American Medical Association, 1916; reprint, New York: Ayer Publishing, 1977), 14-15; "Has Sufficient Funds," Tampa Tribune, 11 July 1921, in Florida State Board of Health News clippings, Volume 12, June 12, 1921-December 1922, SAF; John A. Finey to B. L. Arms, 8 December 1925, Folder 1, Box 42, State Board of Health Correspondence, November 3-December 1925, Record Group 984, SAF; FSBH, Annual Report, 1932, 30; and Hardy and Pynchon, Millstones and Milestones, 68.

The county health units became a source of employment for members of the new

Florida Public Health Association. During the late 1920s, Dr. B. L. Arms began pushing for such an organization. After his term ended, his replacement, Dr. Henry Hanson, continued the plans and was ultimately successful in establishing what came to be called the Florida Public Health Association. Membership would have obviously come from the FSBH, but it also planned to welcome other public health practitioners as well.

The one hurdle standing in the way of the group's establishment was the name. An organization devoted to controlling the spread of tuberculosis already called itself the

Florida Public Health Association. That organization agreed to relinquish the name and restyled itself as the Florida Tuberculosis and Health Association. After clearing up this problem, the Florida Public Health Association received its charter on March 9, 1931.13

Its constitution claimed that the group would "assist in protecting and promoting public health, provide for scientific advancement of members, and to extend and develop the public health movement in the state of Florida."14

With new its new professional organization firmly in place and its new county health boards, Florida continued its expansion of public health activities. The FSBH accepted assistance from the Rockefeller Foundation by joining with its International

Health Board, which succeeded the Rockefeller Sanitary Commission. Some of its contributions were small, such as helping to reestablish the board's public health library that had been discontinued in the 1920s.15 Other projects were on a much larger scale.

13 May Pynchon, History of the Florida Public Health Association (Jacksonville: Florida Public Health Association, 1958), 1-5.

14 Quoted in Pynchon, History of the Florida Public Health Association, 3.

15 In his annual report, the state health officer Henry Hanson did not explain why the library had to be discontinued, but it was probably because of a lack of funds.

In 1926 it conducted a state-wide study to determine the extent of hookworm in Florida.

The prevalence of the disease was still high; in Polk County alone almost fifty percent of the 306 samples taken from public school students tested positive for hookworm. In addition, the Rockefeller Foundation worked with the state board of health in 1930 to create the Division of Malaria Research in Florida. Its head, Dr. Mark Boyd, explained that some of the division's projects included a study on intentionally infecting patients with malaria to help treat other illnesses such as neurosyphillis and attempting to determine the distribution of malaria in four Southern states. In 1932 alone Boyd authored six journal articles based on his research in Florida.16

Another group involved in public health work in Florida was the Cooperative

Extension Service. The goal of extension work was to improve the lives of farmers and their families by teaching techniques that would allow for greater efficiency on the farm and in the home. The Cooperative Extension Service grew out of the Hatch Act of

1887. It created agricultural experiment stations in which professors specializing in agriculture worked on local farms to "conduct demonstrations and to perform experiments," spreading information through lectures and farmers institutes.17

16 The Division of Malaria Research was one of three entities within the state devoted to malaria research. The Bureau of Entomology had its own studies underway, while in 1931 the U. S. Public Health Service started the Bureau of Malaria Control Studies. ------to Dr. Arms, 24 May 1926, Folder 9, Box 42, State Board of Health Correspondence May 1926, Record Group 894, Series 46, State Archives of Florida, Tallahassee, Florida (hereafter SAF); W. M. Bevis to the International Health Board, 15 June 1926, Box 43, Folder 2, State Board of Health Correspondence June 1946, SAF; and FSBH, Annual Report, 1923-1932, 3-5, 74-77.

17 Dr. Seaman A. Knapp, an official with the United States Department of Agriculture (USDA), had been working on farms along the Gulf Coast, trying to teach farmers about diversified agricultural practices. Knapp's system was so successful that in 1914 Congress passed the Smith-Lever Cooperative Extension Act, which provided federal funding and extended the program to cover every state. Knapp also brought agricultural extension to the schools. He organized boys into clubs, where they would grow their own corn, usually on an acre of land, (using the methods Knapp advocated for increasing yields while reducing costs) and then sell whatever they grew. The boys clubs were popular, and later, the General Education Fund of the Rockefeller Foundation worked with state and local governments to fund

Eventually, cooperative extension grew to include clubs in schools that taught farming and homemaking skills to boys and girls. Women took an interest in their daughter's activities, and home demonstration agents saw an opportunity to expand their reach by forming women's clubs. They also went into the home and found numerous topics they could teach to rural home makers. Agents designed home demonstration projects to "improve living conditions and assist women's work." Women in Florida began to learn these lessons after the state hired its first female demonstrator in 1912. Some of their projects included preparation and preservation of foods, how to conserve resources, and how to add to the household economy by earning extra money through the sale of eggs and produce.18

Home demonstration also contributed to rural health. For example, agents sponsored health fairs and took note of ill children through their work in the schools.

They also taught the rudiments of sanitation, such as building sanitary privies, providing a source of clean water for the home, and installing screens to prevent the spread of insect-borne illnesses such as typhoid and malaria. As an example of their work, in

clubs for girls as well. The girls grew a tenth of an acre of tomatoes and then learned to preserve them through canning. The club attracted the attention of Knapp, who approved of the project. The clubs then spread after the General Education Board supplied funds for their establishment in other states. By 1912, every state had girls clubs, where work expanded from tomato growing into other areas, such as other vegetables, fruits, and poultry. In addition, professionals became involved. Charles Alfred True of the USDA explained that "the agricultural colleges gave the assistance of various experts, and 157 women with some training or experience in home economics were employed as collaborators and came to be known as home demonstration agents." Alfred Charles True, A History of Agricultural Extension Work in the United States, 1785-1923 (Washington: U. S. Government Printing Office, 1928), 59-68; Cotton, The Lamplighters, 10-11; and James E. Ackert, "Some Influences of the American Hookworm," American Midland Naturalist 47 (May 1952): 759-60.

18 Lynne A. Rieff, "Improving Rural Life in Florida: Home Demonstration Work and Rural Reform, 1912-1940," in Making Waves: Female Activists in Twentieth-Century Florida, Jack E. Davis and Kari Frederickson, eds. (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2003), 108-109.

1932 home demonstration lessons led homeowners to install 79 sewage disposal plants and 383 sanitary privies, and to screen 438 homes.19

Assistance from groups outside of the FSBH improved health outcomes for

Floridians, but this help did not go far enough. The state’s budget for public health was too small to maintain most of the FSBH’s agenda. It was federal programs, especially those coming out the massive expansion of the government during the New Deal, which ensured that the FSBH would be able to continue its work and move into new areas.20

Other states were in the same position; their boards of health suffered from budgetary shortfalls. John Duffy noted that “the secretary of the Kansas State Board of

Health did not bother to make a summary statement in his biennial report after 1930, merely noting that the budget for 1932 had been reduced,” and that “in 1933 the budget for the Indiana State Board of Health was slashed by $75,000.”21 The election of

Franklin Roosevelt and his enactment of the New Deal proved to be a blessing for public health. The Federal Emergency Relief Administration, the Works Progress

Administration, and the Public Works Administration all had provisions for public health, including hospital construction, anti-malaria programs, nursing services, and the construction of sewage facilities. When Congress passed the Social Security Act of

1935, the New Deal’s effect on public health only grew larger. The act provided millions

19 Ibid.; and “Summary of Accomplishments Through Home Demonstration Work in Florida,1932,” folder 4, box 1, Florida Cooperative Extension Service, Home Demonstration Records, 1912-1986, Department of Special and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida, Gainesville.

20 Florida benefitted from the New Deal in other ways as well. The WPA built or refurbished more than 500 schools. Agricultural production, supported by loans and subsidies from New Deal programs, expanded, with increases in cattle, citrus, and winter vegetables being extremely profitable. The Civilian Conservation Corps helped support reforestation initiatives. For more on the New Deal and Florida, see William W. Rogers, “The Great Depression,” in The New History of Florida, 304-321.

21 Duffy, The Sanitarians, 257.

of dollars for maternal and child health. Millions more went to the PHS, so that it could help state and local governments with their public health needs. John Duffy stated that

“the immediate result was to give a sharp impetus to the public health movement and to raise the level of public health services throughout the entire country.”22

Federal assistance was a boon for the FSBH. For example, it was finally able to create an effective public health nursing service. The board hired its first nurses to provide in-home care for tuberculosis patients. From that point on, the number of public health nurses fluctuated, depending on need and available funds. In 1934, four nurses worked for the FSBH. That number grew when the Federal Emergency Relief

Administration (FERA) provided funds to hire nurses for clients of New Deal relief agencies. The nurses who joined the FSBH found that their primary responsibility was to work with mothers and infants to address the state's high maternal death rate. They also engaged in a general public health agenda that included sanitation. Their projects ranged from teaching courses in home sanitation and assisting with hookworm surveys.

In fact, by 1935 the nursing staff had conducted surveys in every county and had sent almost 100,000 specimens to the state laboratory for analysis.23

22 Ibid., 259.

23 In 1933, the state health officer, representatives from the State Nurses' association, and the state's Emergency Relief Administrator met to decide how to administer such a program. FERA required its projects to have a sponsor with the resources to supervise its work, so the representatives decided to place nurses under the supervision of the FSBH. With FERA funding, the state could provide nursing services to people who could not afford care and offer jobs to unemployed nurses. FERA funds would have funded 15 supervisory nurses and 275 public health nurses to work with individual counties. The board decided to hire only eleven of the supervisors, preferring to move four of its own nurses into some of the available positions. FSBH, Annual Report, 1934, 45-46; Hardy and Pynchon, Millstones and Milestones, 133-36.; FHN 27 (March 1935), 43; FHN 27 (October 1935), 159; and Mrs. J. O. Reddin to Duncan U. Fletcher, folder Florida 651.32, Works Progress Administration, Central Files: State, 1935- 1944, Florida, 651.3182 to 651.322 1939-40, Records of the Public Health Service NARA.

The revenue provided by FERA was only temporary. Thus, in May 1935, the number of nurses in Florida employed through FERA dropped by half after a reduction in funding. In December, FERA ended; instead, Florida received money for its nursing program from the Works Progress Administration and the Social Security Act of 1935, which Congress created to help mothers with dependent children, the disabled, and the elderly. In addition, the FSBH itself tried to find other ways to keep its nurses employed.

In 1934, every county in Florida participated in nursing committees that strove to support the public health nursing program. They provided equipment and supplies that the nurses needed for their activities. Some counties also took their support a step further. Albert V. Hardy and May Pyncheon, who chronicled the history of the FSBH, explained that "several counties were so favorably impressed with the work of the nurses that appropriations were made by the County Commissioners for continuation of their work and even for the establishment of a county health unit." 24

The Farm Security Administration (FSA) also contributed to health work in

Florida. Created in 1935, the FSA provided loans to impoverished farmers, such as tenant farmers and sharecroppers, who wanted to own their own land. To improve health outcomes, the FSA instituted medical and health programs to aid farm families.25

24 Florida benefitted from the Social Security Act in other ways as well. The state received enough funding to create a new Bureau of Maternal and Child Health and a Bureau of Local and County Health Work that supervised the activities of the county health units and supported the creation of new units in counties with no local health organizations. In addition, the board also gained a Division of Oral Hygiene to teach citizens about oral health. Finally, the Social Security Act also led to the creation of both a Tuberculosis Field Unit and a Mobile Health Unit. FHN 28 (April 1936), 51-52; Hardy and Pynchon, Millstones and Milestones, 134; and FSBH, Annual Report, 1934, 46.

25 One such program created medical care cooperatives. They were essentially prepaid insurance plans that pooled members’ funds to pay for services from physicians who agreed to work for a set fee, which was usually determined by the county medical association. This structure worked fairly well. The amount a family paid was based on its size, income, and needs. Their fee usually came out of their FSA loans, although some did pay out of pocket. It was advantageous to physicians because so many of their patients were unable to pay for medical services. Physicians either received goods through

Of greater concern to health officials was the influx of migrants who worked the labor circuit up and down the eastern seaboard. This stream of roving laborers began in the

1890s in New Jersey, where farmers hired temporary help during harvest time. Other cities along the coast did the same, attracting mostly poor, unskilled African Americans.

These workers would move from one area to another according to the season. Florida became a major destination for migrant workers in the east coast stream.26

The FSA responded to the needs of their migrant clients who could not afford housing, in part because most growers refused to provide adequate facilities for their laborers. The conditions in which migrants lived, including a lack of sanitary toilets, contributed to their ill health. As a result, in 1939, Florida became the site of the South's first migrant worker camps. The FSA allocated $500,000 for two camps: one in Belle

Glade that housed 170 white families and another in Clewiston that accommodating 366

African American families. According to the Miami Daily News, the camps would have

"concrete foundations and full modern sanitation and other equipment," in addition to a few homes for farmers with permanent jobs.27 This was an improvement over the poor

bartering or were not paid at all. Michael R. Grey, New Deal Medicine: The Rural Health Programs of the Farm Security Administration (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1999), 58-59; F. D. Mott and M. I. Roemer, Rural Health and Medical Care (New York, McGraw-Hill, 1948), 31-39; and FSBH, Annual Report, 1940, 98-99.

26 Low incomes and a peripatetic life meant that migrant laborers in Florida and the rest of the country rarely received medical care. The FSA addressed this problem by creating agricultural workers’ health associations. In all, there were seven of these health associations, including one in Florida founded in 1943. The doctors and nurses working with the associations provided a variety of services, from routine checkups to hospitalization and health education. In some parts of the country, local physicians treated migrant workers in their own offices. In other areas, such as the fields of the western states where farmers moved frequently, the FSA provided mobile health units equipped with clinics in trailers and even had portable showers. In most states the doctors held clinics in government-owned migrant labor camps. Donald H. Grubbs, "The Story of Florida's Migrant Farm Workers," FHQ 40 (October 1961): 103-105; Jack E. Davis, An Everglades Providence: Marjory Stoneman Douglas and the American Environmental Century (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2009), 205; and Grey, New Deal Medicine, 78-93.

27 "Belle Glade Selected to Get South's First Migrant Camp," Miami Daily News, 28 May 1939.

housing that existed. In fact, in 1940 the FSBH condemned 500 dwellings near Belle

Glade, Pahokee, and Canal Point that it called "hovels" and "dilapidated shacks." Dr. M.

V. Ziegler of the United States Public Health Service had conducted a survey of migrant worker housing. He said that the area's agricultural workers lived in "tents, trailers, garages, out-buildings of various types, and improvised shelters made of galvanized iron, using automobiles as one wall."28 With such poor conditions, the FSA's camps could not come soon enough.29

Although medical care initiatives such as the FSA's were vital to improving the lives of New Deal clients, sanitation activities were some of the most prevalent parts of depression-era federally funded public health programs. Rural residents, in particular, benefitted from sanitation initiatives, as federal laborers built thousands of sanitary privies for clients of New Deal programs. In the previous decades, public health initiatives had grown unevenly. Rural areas had lagged behind their urban counterparts, as growing cities provided public health services to their residents. The disparity was especially pronounced in the South. Duffy explained that “the southern states, because they were predominantly rural and labored under the double handicap of racism and one-crop farming, lagged behind the country with respect to public health.”30 This shortfall included the provision of sanitation facilities; most rural

Southerners had to rely on privies for the elimination of waste. The U.S. Census

Bureau conducted its first housing census in 1940, and showed that a significant

28 "Florida Condemns 500 Hovels Near Winter 'Gold Coast,'" Washington Post, 29 March 1940.

29 Ibid.; Grubbs, "The Story of Florida's Migrant Farm Workers," 108; "Belle Glade Selected to Get South's First Migrant Camp"; and "Clewiston to Get $500,000 Shelter," Miami Daily News, 27 April 1939.

30 Duffy, The Sanitarians, 226.

number of Southern states lacked flush toilets: 56.5% of Virginia households did not have them, 68.7% of houses in South Carolina lacked them, and 81.3% of homes in

Mississippi did not have them. This was, of course, after New Deal programs had constructed thousands of privies across the country. Florida fared slightly better; only

36.6% of the homes counted during the census lacked flush toilets, although Florida had more large cities than many southern states. 31

During the depression, the PHS took advantage of New Deal agencies to expand its efforts. Some of the first agencies to join with the PHS were FERA and the Civil

Works Administration (CWA). FERA had already been active in the public health arena through its support of nursing programs, but it also worked to improve sanitation. The government created the CWA as an emergency measure to provide employment for four million workers during the winter of 1933 and 1934. Together, the two agencies helped with the construction of sanitary privies and septic tanks. FERA and the CWA provided labor while individual home owners paid for the materials. Florida certainly needed this type of assistance; in 1933 the board of health estimated that there were more than 100,000 unsanitary privies throughout the state.32

The results of the sanitation work under FERA and the CWA were mixed. Both programs only lasted a short time. After the winter of 1934 ended, so did the CWA.

FERA followed closely behind, coming to an end in December of 1935. During their existence they complicated the everyday operations of the state board's Bureau of

Engineering, which oversaw sanitation activities in the state. Although these two

31 “Historical Census of Housing Tables: Sewage Disposal.” http://www.census.gov/hhes/www/housing/census/historic/sewage.html Accessed 8 November 2013.

32 "Federal Emergency Relief and Public Health," AJPH, 24(1934): 642-43; and FSBH, Annual Report, 1934, 108, 112-13.

programs were federally operated, supervision of its projects rested with the local health authority. Budget cuts had already left the bureau shorthanded and after the CWA and

FERA began building sanitary privies, each of the four sanitary officers employed by the board found that his or her work had more than doubled. In addition, the government instituted the CWA so quickly that problems arose, including wasted funds on what an editorialist for the American Journal of Public Health called "foolish expenditures."33

The FSBH had a similar experience. A note in its annual report of 1933 explained that

"the misunderstanding and continuously changing methods of administration of the

CWA brought on a great deal of confusion in its operation." As a result of these interruptions, the CWA's efforts were delayed until the end of the year. Nevertheless, the CWA and FERA constructed a lot of privies: CWA workers completed over 1,000 sanitary toilets while FERA built almost 5,000 of them, repaired over 1,300 more and installed 73 septic tanks.34

The FSBH had another issue related to the CWA and FERA's privy construction program. The PHS found that most of the privies constructed before the New Deal programs stepped in had wooden bases and risers, which rotted and could not be kept clean. Instead, the organization designed its own privy, replacing the wood with concrete. Most of the states that participated in PHS programs either adopted its privy

33 An editorial in the AJPH explains of these expenditures: “A striking incident of this is the assignment to a man holding the degree B.S. in Agriculture (incidentally, the most appropriate degree that any university gives) to make a study of poliomyelitis. It is not clear just what conclusions were reached, but we are led to believe that it is probably dangerous to let concrete come in contact with drinking water!” “Federal Emergency Relief and Public Health," 643.

34 Ibid; FSBH, Annual Report, 1933, 120; and FSBH, Annual Report, 1934, 81.

design or selected one that was similar.35 The FSBH went with its own plans. Since at least 1920, it had been using the same design for what it called the "Florida type of privy." The FSBH described the Florida type privy by explaining that "they were built of wood, brick and concrete, concrete vaults were poured in place, or precast in a central yard, and in 1927 were built of precast slabs poured in a central yard and assembled at the point of installation, the slabs being joined together with bolts."36 In 1929, George

Van Streenburg, an entrepreneur from Orlando, applied for and received a patent for a privy that was essentially the same as the FSBH's "Florida type." The trouble really started in 1931 when the director of the Bureau of Engineering made a remark about the patented design, saying, "This privy is in accord with plans and specifications of the

Florida State Board of Health." The Bureau of Engineering explained that "being the only one in the business the above patentee was recommended to numerous municipalities when privy building was ordered by the sanitary officers, with the result that the impression was created in his mind that patent rights were supported by the

State Board of Health."37

Naturally, the CWA and FERA needed a privy design that was easy to construct on a large scale, and the Florida type fit the bill nicely. Streenburg saw the use of this

35 C.E. Waller, assistant surgeon general of the PHS, noted that, “the community sanitation project was selected as a profitable means of employment of civil works labor because of the opportunity afforded to perform a service of value to the whole population of rural and semirural communities, and because the project was well adapted to the use of the type of labor predominating in such communities.” Twenty-four states participated in the community sanitation activities of the Civil Works Administration, “including all of the Southern States, and Delaware, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Kansas, and Washington.” The program was popular, and federal laborers constructed more than 200,000 privies. C. E. Waller, “A Review of the Federal Civil Works Projects of the Public Health Service,” Public Health Reports, 49 (August 1934): 963.

36 FSBH, Annual Report, 1934, 66.

37 Ibid; and Tisdale and Adkins, “The Sanitary Privy and its Relation to Public Health,” 1320.

privy as an infringement on his patent and complained, even writing to FDR. The

Federal Trade Commission made an investigation but decided not to act. As a precaution, the FSBH designed a new privy based on plans from the PHS. The FSBH noted that it was not popular, however, "not being as adaptable to Florida conditions and being slightly more expensive to build."38 As a result, most cities went back to the

Florida type, and Streenburg complained yet again. This time he contacted the Federal

Relief Administrator, who oversaw the CWA and FERA and provided workers to construct the privies. Instead of trying to placate Streenburg, the FSBH challenged his patent, its main argument being that it had been using this type of privy since 1920, long before Streenburg had, rendering his patent invalid. The board went on to say that it would challenge the validity of the patent each time Streenburg tried to complain. At this point, Streenburg stopped objecting and the board continued to distribute plans for the privy.39

With the issue settled, the FSBH could get back to work. With the end of the

CWA and FERA, it found itself allied with another New Deal Program, the Works

Progress Administration (WPA), established in 1935. FDR was worried about federal aid demoralizing beneficiaries, and he wanted to give them a job instead of a handout.

In 1935, he signed the Emergency Relief Appropriation Act, which created the WPA. It included several programs such as the National Youth Administration. There was also a Women's Division that helped ladies find employment in sewing rooms and canneries, and as domestics. The Federal Arts Projects employed artists, writers, and musicians.

38 The author never explained why this plan was more suitable for Florida’s environment. Ibid.

39 Ibid, 66-67.

During the time the WPA was active, it contributed to public health in several ways. It engaged in the construction of new hospitals and repairs to those already in operation and worked to control the spread of malaria through drainage projects. The WPA provided personnel to local health departments, hospitals, and clinics; helped the PHS conduct the National Health Survey; trained women to provide housekeeping services in homes where the mother was ill; started a school lunch program; and sponsored numerous special projects in conjunction with local health departments.40

The largest part of the WPA was, however, its public works program. It was similar to the CWA in that it provided employment on public works projects for relief recipients. But the appropriation for the WPA was much larger than the CWA's and the

WPA was meant to last for more than a few months. In fact, it went on until 1943. One of the largest of its public works program was its Community Sanitation Program. It was similar to the programs conducted by FERA and the CWA. Like its predecessors, the

WPA partnered closely with the PHS to build privies in areas where sewer connections were not available. The program's goal was to help prevent the spread of waste-borne illnesses. By April of 1939, the WPA had constructed almost 1.8 million privies across the country. The New Deal agency built some of these privies in Florida, with the FSBH willing to participate in the Community Sanitation Program, and it served as a supplement to the activities already put into place by county health units. The WPA

40 Robert S. McElvaine, The Great Depression: America, 1929-1941, (New York: New York Times Books, 1984), 255, 322; and John M. Carmody, "The Federal Works Agency and Public Health," AJPH 30 (August 1940): 890-94.

provided the labor while the FSBH directed the workers. The homeowner paid for the privy's materials, which cost from twelve to eighteen dollars.41

In addition, the Farm Security Administration took advantage of WPA labor through its own program. Its administrator understood the importance of sanitation and in 1937 conducted a nationwide environmental sanitation program to curb the spread of disease. This was a cooperative effort between the FSA, local health departments, the

National Youth Administration, and the WPA, which provided labor. The agency made grants and loans available for the purchase of the materials necessary to construct sanitary privies and window screens, and even new water supplies for its members. By

1944, the FSA's Environmental Sanitation Program was responsible for the erection of almost 75,000 sanitary privies nationwide. In 1940 alone, farmers in twenty-nine counties received money to improve the sanitary condition of their property. The program lasted until 1942, when the FSA closed its doors.42

For the most part, the WPA's Community Sanitation Program was successful.

According to E. S. Tisdale and C. H. Adkins, two sanitary engineers with the PHS,

“during the period from December 1933, through June 1942, 2,911,323 sanitary privies were constructed in 38 state and in Puerto Rico through the cooperative effort of CWA,

FERA, WPA, state health departments, and the U. S. Public Health Service.”43 By

October of 1937, 18 counties in Florida were participating in the program and 238 men had jobs installing privies. Federal officials expected that number to increase to 34

41 Carmody, "The Federal Works Agency and Public Health," 891; FSBH, Annual Report, 1937, 96, 166; and FSBH, Annual Report, 1940, 96-97.

42 Camp 27F, A Souvenir (Orlando, FL: Untidy Press, 1945), 57; Roemer and Mott, Rural Health and Medical Care, 31-39; and FSBH, Annual Report, 1940, 98-99.

43 Tisdale and Adkins, “The Sanitary Privy and its Relation to Public Health,” 1320.

counties and 483 laborers within a month. By August of 1940, the number of privies constructed nationwide by the WPA had grown to almost 1.8 million, and Florida had received 32,852 of them. The FSBH estimated that at this point it was halfway to its goal of replacing the 110,000 unsanitary privies in the state, which would not have happened so quickly without the aid of the WPA and other New Deal agencies.44 The

FSBH seemed to appreciate this assistance, and so did most of the communities involved with the program.45

Interestingly, there was one spot of trouble concerning the WPA's privies.

Someone from the community of Avon Park, a small town in Central Florida, complained in the town's local newspaper about the appearance of the privies. Federal officials saw the article and contacted M. E. Covington, the town's mayor. K. E. Miller, the senior surgeon of the PHS's domestic quarantine division noted, that "the real bone of contention seems to be the lack of harmony between the architectural design of the sanitary privy units and the prevailing architecture of the local community." Apparently, the city was slightly altering the plans for privies to make them more attractive. He went on to say that "your published articles give the impression that you are able to deal with this phase of the subject in such a manner as to uphold the uniform standards." He finished by warning the mayor that if the plans deviated too much from the standards

44 The FSBH estimated that it still had nine years left to go before it would able to replace all of the state's unsanitary privies. It also noted that "the 32,852 figure quoted does not include the number of sanitary privies installed by private individuals or the number of privies eliminated by extension of sewerage facilities and septic tanks. Quite a large number of insanitary privies have been eliminated by private funds either through construction of septic tanks or construction of approved types with private labor." "Privy Program Approaching Half-Way Mark--Hillsborough Leads in Number Installed," FHN 32 (August 1940): 96-97.

45 Ibid.; K. E. Miller to W. A. McPhaul, 29 October 1937, folder 0875-Hygiene and Sanitation, box 750, General Subject File 1924-1935, Works Progress Administration Files, Record Group 90, Records of the Public Health Service, NARA; and Carmody, "The Federal Works Agency and Public Health," 891.

set for privy construction, that "the Public Health Service would have to consider cancellation of responsibility for the supervision of the privy construction program in your community."46 Not wanting to lose the privy construction program, the mayor rushed to address the concerns of the PHS. He claimed to have been working towards removing the "insanitary, menacing outside toilets" in Avon Park for several years and that he was "delighted" to have the WPA and the PHS help in this endeavor, especially since the project made sanitary privies affordable for even the poorest residents. He added that he really did not object to the design of the privies and had only heard good things about them. Covington then said that he was the one who started the controversy "in order to bring the matter forcibly to the attention of the public," and "as a result, this WPA project has had invaluable publicity and a great demand created for the privies." He went on to thank the PHS for its efforts and said that he would continue his own efforts at removing all of the unsanitary privies in Avon Park.47

Avon Park and other small communities greatly benefitted from New Deal public health initiatives. The federal government’s efforts to establish health programs affecting urban dwellers were much larger in scale, however. The federal government funded a program of public works that included the construction of streets, bridges and buildings. These programs may have been one of the greatest benefits of the New Deal for the South. Historian David L. Smith notes that “the federal government paid for the capital facilities in southern cities that northern cities had paid for themselves in earlier

46 K. E. Miller to M. E. Covington, 29 April 1938, folder 0875-Hygiene and Sanitation, box 750, General Subject File 1924-1935, Works Progress Administration Files, Record Group 90, Records of the Public Health Service, NARA.

47 M. E. Covington to the Surgeon General, U.S. Public Health Service, 18 May 1938, folder 651.106, January 1939-January 1941, Record Group 69, Works Progress Administration, box 1092, Central Files: State, 1935-1944, Florida 651.105-651.108, Records of the Public Health Service, NARA.

decades and on which they were still paying off the debt. The almost free modernization received by southern cities would prove to be an important economic advantage in subsequent decades.”48

New Deal agencies supplemented sanitation efforts by helping municipalities construct sewage disposal systems. One of the agencies responsible for these efforts was the Public Works Administration (PWA), which was a part of the National Industrial

Recovery Act (NIRA) of 1933.49 A number of cities used PWA funds to build sewage treatment systems as a way to mitigate stream pollution. A 1938 inventory of sewage facilities revealed that “no section of the country has more than 70% of its urban population served by sewage treatment works.”50 The national leader, in providing urban sewage treatment, was the Middle West. The South was near the bottom of the pack; only 31.4% of the urban population in Southern cities was served by sewage treatment facilities. To help protect water resources, the PWA “made allotments for

1,527 sewage systems costing more than $466,000,000, representing n percent of the estimated cost of all PWA non-Federal work. Sewage-treatment plants alone accounted for 873 projects costing $325,358,000.51

48 Douglas L. Smith, quoted in “The New Deal in Dallas,” by Roger Biles, in The Making of Urban America, 2nd edition, 250; McElvaine, The Great Depression, 152-53; Roger Biles, A New Deal for the American People, DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 1991), 212-13; and United States. Public Works Administration, America Builds: The Record of PWA (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1939), 6-7.

49 McElvaine, The Great Depression, 152-53; Biles, A New Deal for the American People, (212- 13; and Public Works Administration, America Builds: The Record of PWA (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1939), 6-7.

50 This inventory divided the country into six areas: the Middle West, the far west, west of the Mississippi River, the South, New England, and the middle Atlantic. The South was in second-to-last place, followed by New England. PWA, America Builds, 158.

51 Ibid., 159.

The FSBH was eager to secure PWA assistance for Florida cities, so it conducted a statewide publicity campaign. In 1933, the PWA was offering grants that would cover thirty percent of the cost of a project and 25-year loans at four percent interest to cover the remainder of the price. This deal would have brought down the price of sewage systems to a level that many towns could afford. Florida Health Notes told its readers that "Florida cities can now avail themselves of this opportunity to place their waste and sewage facilities on a satisfactory basis for the future, or they can sit still and let this golden opportunity, which probably will never be repeated, pass."52 Local officials were receptive to this plea, but only a few cities benefitted from the grants and loans. With help from the FSBH, Florida cities submitted applications to the PWA for eight million dollars’ worth of funds. Congress had not allocated a large amount of money to the PWA so the number of municipalities it could have helped was limited.

Nevertheless, Pahokee, Lake City, and Miami successfully applied for assistance from the PWA before its funds were exhausted.53

Although Congress granted money to the PWA at "irregular intervals," this first appropriation was far from the last. In fact, by 1935 the government had allotted more money to the PWA and changed the terms for receiving funds. Now cities could receive a grant that would cover 45% of a project's cost while a loan at 4% interest would cover the remaining 55%. Some states, as did Florida, also changed their laws to make it easier for cities to obtain these loans.54 Again, local governments, persuaded by the

52 FHN, 25 (July 1933), 88.

53 FSBH, Annual Report, 1933, 120.

54 The author of a guide to the PWA explained why it was necessary to have legal changes for cities to receive loans. The revenue to back the loans came from bonds, and most states, "Instead of setting down simple, guiding statements of fundamental principles, they wrote into their constitutions

FSBH, rushed to apply. The projects needed approval from the FSBH and investigating each consumed a lot of the board's time. Some of the projects winning approval at the state level included Pensacola's plan to build two sewage treatment plants that would utilize screening, sedimentation, and chlorination of effluent, while Lakeland hoped to extend its existing system.55

As hard as the FSBH worked with municipalities to complete and approve applications for federal funding through the PWA, most cities did not receive the grants and loans they needed to build new sewage systems or improve older ones. The FSBH explained that even though "an enabling act was passed by the Legislature making it possible sewer rental changes that would liquidate bonds for municipal contribution . . . the State Supreme Court Ruled that even then, bonds could not be legally sold without a vote of the people."56 The number of towns that were able to hold this type of election was small, so assisting most of the cities applying for aid was beyond the PWA’s capacity. The FSBH also noted that of the cities lucky enough to secure a federal grant, most of the money went to building septic tanks. This was still unsatisfactory because the FSBH claimed that "for municipal use," they were "negligible as treatment," although the board did not explain why this was so.57

highly restrictive provisions that made every detail of a bond-issue procedure a stumbling block. In the main, these solons intended not to be obstructive or arbitrary; reflecting the spirit of their times, they merely sought to protect taxpayers from outlandish extravagance. In the South particularly, they were primarily interested in preventing a recurrence of the wildcat public financing of the carpetbagger and post-Civil-War days." PWA, America Builds, 53.

55 FHN 27 (June 1935), 91-92; and FSBH, Annual Report, 1935, 26-29.

56 FSBH, Annual Report, 1937, 89.

57 Ibid.

The cities that did not receive assistance from the PWA could have turned to other New Deal agencies for help with the construction of sewage disposal facilities.

For example, the WPA constructed six sewage disposal plants in Florida, in addition to its other projects. FERA, along with the WPA, was responsible for one of the most prominent New Deal sewage construction projects. In 1934, the city of Key West fell into bankruptcy and declared a state of emergency, turning over governing power to

Governor David Scholtz. The small island was just over seven square miles in area, was five million dollars in debt and had lost most of the industries that had brought in money. Cigar-making and collecting natural sea sponges had moved to other cities, while high tariffs caused it to lose the market for its canned pineapple. In addition, the federal government shut down its Coast Guard station and abandoned the old naval base at Key West. The Great Depression then struck the final blow to Key West's economy and the city found itself in dire straits. The small community's local government was so poor that it could not even provide basic services and most of the people in town were on relief. Scholtz accepted authority over the city and in turn granted control to Julius Stone, Jr., who was FERA's director for the southeastern part of the country. Both believed that the New Deal's programs would be able to save the city.58

Stone came up with a plan to totally remake Key West as a profit-making resort town that catered to the needs of tourists. First, Stone enlisted the aid of the thousands

58 Durwood Long, "Workers on Relief, 1934-1938, in Key West," Tequesta 28 (1968): 53-61; Garry Boulard, "State of Emergency: Key West in the Great Depression," FHQ 67 (October 1988): 166- 83; and "Memorandum: Water Supply for the City of Key West, Monroe County, Florida," 1-6, folder 651.108, Florida, Key West Sewer, Water, and Electric, Record Group 69, Works Progress Administration, box 1092, Central Files: State, 1935-1944, Florida 651.105-651.108, Records of the Public Health Service, NARA.

of residents who answered his call to volunteer their time to improve the city.59 They started by cleaning up the mounds of garbage that had built up on the streets after the city could no longer afford to remove it. Once the trash was gone, Stone organized efforts to remodel the small, wood-frame houses that dotted the island. He also used

FERA funds and labor to landscape the major streets and painted the buildings that housed restaurants and pubs. The latter worked in tandem with an art project that employed the city's artists, hiring them to paint murals throughout the city. These endeavors, and many others, gave Key West a much needed facelift. The town's improved appearance and Stone's efforts to publicize the new Key West were successful at attracting tourists. From November of 1934 to February of 1935, the number of people staying in hotels was 7,909, up from the 4,264 visitors during the

1933-1934 tourist season.60

In addition to these cosmetic changes, FERA sought to implement more permanent improvements to Key West by building parks and streets. The WPA joined in as well, launching several public works projects. In fact, in 1935 the WPA appropriated over one million dollars for infrastructure to distribute both water and electricity, along with a new sewer system to serve just under thirteen thousand residents.61 The plans for the sewage system included 18.3 miles of sewers and two sewage treatment plants, one of which went online in 1940. There was still a lot of work

59 Many of the citizens of Key West found jobs because of the New Deal, but many were happy to pitch in and help Stone with his ideas. The people of Key West gave two million hours of their time to help improve the city. "Key West Brushes Off Dust and Tourists Flock to See," Christian Science Monitor, 8 April 1935.

60 Long, "Workers on Relief, 53-61; Boulard, "State of Emergency, 166-83; and "Memorandum: Water Supply for the City of Key West," 1-6.

61 "Memorandum: Water Supply for the City of Key West," 6; and "Key West Brushes off Dust and Tourists Flock to See," Christian Science Monitor, 8 April 1935.

to be done, however. The Miami Daily News noted that “when the sewers were laid under FERA and WPA programs . . . only about half of the connections were laid to the curb lines. Approximately 1,000 connections must be laid to enable householders and property owners to tie in with the system."62 A visitor to Key West in 1940 agreed with this assessment, noting, "the improvements that the WPA has installed are paradoxical .

. . there are miles of sewers, but no connections. Cesspools are still in use in Key

West."63

The WPA, FERA, and the other New Deal agencies operating in Florida during the 1930s helped the FSBH improve sanitation. Without this assistance, the board would never have been able to construct so many sanitary privies or urban sewage disposal systems. There were, however, a number of major changes to public health administration in Florida that had little to do with the New Deal and occurred as its programs were ending. In fact, the 1940s were vitally important to the development of the modern state board of health in Florida. The first step was a survey conducted in

1939 by the American Public Health Association on health conditions in Florida. The

APHA acknowledged that the FSBH had grown since its establishment as an emergency organization created to control the spread of yellow fever. Nevertheless, the board still had a considerable amount of work to do. The survey found that the incidence of hookworm disease was as high as 70% of the white population in three

Florida counties, while four counties had a malarial death rate of "over one hundred per

62 "Key West Plans Opening of Sewage Plant in 1940," Miami Daily News, 7 January 1940.

63 "Visits Key West and Is Glad She Did," Chicago Daily Tribune, 3 March 1940.

one hundred thousand population, an exceptionally high rate."64 It also concluded that one out of every ten adults in Florida suffered from syphilis.65

This study also offered recommendations on how to improve health through the

FSBH's administration. Its suggestions included having FSBH members, instead of the governor, select the state health officer and that board members should serve longer terms that extended beyond a governor's time in office. It also recommended that well- qualified personnel be assured a reasonable salary and merit-based promotions. The surveyors wanted to see every county in the state served by a full-time local health board as well. The FSBH still had five health districts in place, mostly to cover the areas without a county health department. The APHA wanted the costly health districts abolished and their funding applied to county health boards instead. It also wanted the state to increase funding for health services and for the Florida Medical Association to foster a stronger relationship with the FSBH.66

When Dr. W. A. McPhaul, the state health officer, requested that the APHA conduct the survey, he and the rest of the board created a citizens committee, consisting of two thousand members, to address public health concerns. Albert Hardy and Mae Pynchon, chroniclers of public health in Florida, claimed that the committee was "an interpretive group, dispensing to the public information on the health situation in

Florida as found by team members."67 Overall, the committee was successful.

64 American Public Health Association, The Health Situation in Florida: Summary Report of a Study Made by the American Public Health Association, January 1 to June 30, 1939 (New York: American Public Health Association, 1939), 10.

65 Ibid., 8, 12.

66 Ibid., 18-34.

67 Hardy and Pynchon, Millstones and Milestones, 45.

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Educating the public and advising the FSBH meant that "within two years [by 1941] the

State Health Officer was able to report that 58 per cent of recommendations presented by the study had been, or were being, put into effect."68

In 1941, the FSBH enacted several more measures designed to make Florida a cleaner and healthier place to live. It established a registry to track typhoid carriers as part of a broader effort to ascertain the cause of the disease during outbreaks. Once located, carriers had to be isolated and provide two negative stool samples before being released. Identifying carriers was particularly important. The FSBH found that several typhoid epidemics could be traced to healthy carriers who handled food, especially those working with shellfish.69

The most important milestone of 1941 was the creation of Florida's first state sanitary code. The board had long sought a policy "embodying sanitary rules and regulations for the control of communicable diseases based upon standardized and accepted procedures and practices."70 The state legislature responded in 1939 by passing the State Sanitary Code Law. With this newly granted authority, the board drew up a list of regulations, which appeared in 1940. Most of the new rules covered water pollution; sewage disposal; and food sanitation in canning plants, restaurants, and facilities packing shellfish. Among its new rules, the board accepted the responsibility for supervising ground and surface water quality as it related to public health. It also

68 Ibid., 45.

69 In the early 1900s, bacteriologists discovered that people who were otherwise healthy could harbor typhoid bacteria in their bodies after being exposed to the disease. Many of them unknowingly spread typhoid to others through their feces and urine. One of the first, and most famous, healthy typhoid carriers was Mary Mallon (also called Typhoid Mary), an Irish immigrant who worked as a cook, spreading typhoid through the food she prepared. For more on Mallon, see Judith Walzer Leavitt, Typhoid Mary: Captive to the Public's Health (Boston: Beacon Press, 1996); and FSBH, Annual Report, 1941, 2.

70 FSBH, Annual Report, 1941, 3.

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required the installation of septic tanks in place of privies in areas not served by public sanitation systems. In 1941, the FSBH issued an expanded version of the sanitary code, granting itself broader authority over public health, including rules on garbage disposal, industrial hygiene, and swimming pools, among others.71

In this same year, the FSBH participated in a program that strove to improve sanitation in the home. During the 1930s, there was a shortage of safe, sanitary housing across the country. In 1937, the Wagner-Stegall Act helped states afford to build homes for low-income families through the United States Housing Authority. In

1938, Congress also passed the National Housing Act to assist individuals with higher incomes pay for new homes by having "the federal government . . . act as a mortgage guarantor for projects which conform to certain specified conditions including minimum health standards."72 As a part of this program, administered through the Federal

Housing Administration, local health authorities had to approve the plans for private wells and septic tanks on home sites before the FHA would grant a loan. In Florida, city or county boards of health conducted the actual inspections based on rules set forth by the FSBH.73

After the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor on 7 December 1941, the FSBH had to put the Wagner-Stegall Act and many of its other programs on hold. Florida quickly became an important part of the war effort. It had a lot of flat land for runways and

71 Hardy and Pyncheon, Millstones and Milestones, 46; Florida State Board of Health, Florida State Sanitary Code (Jacksonville: Florida State Board of Health, 1940), 1-25; and Florida State Board of Health, Florida State Sanitary Code (Jacksonville: Florida State Board of Health, 1941), i.

72 C.-E. A. Winslow, "Opportunities and Responsibilities of the Health Officer in Connection with the Federal Housing Acts," AJPH 28 (November 1938): 1271.

73 FSBH, Annual Report, 1942, 143; and FSBH, Annual Report, 1941, 47.

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ample clear days suitable for flying. This made Florida the perfect place for military bases. According to historian Gary Mormino, by the end of the war, 172 military installations were operating in the state. There were so many recruits pouring into

Florida bases that the armed forces had to lodge them in coastal resort hotels that were usually filled with tourists. The war also required an increase in industrial output and

Floridians rushed to help meet production quotas. Naval yards in Pensacola and

Jacksonville produced ships for the war effort, while farmers increased citrus and sugarcane products. All of this activity was good for Florida's economy, especially after the budgetary shortfalls of the depression.74

In spite of the economic benefits, the war effort had its downside. Wives, with children in tow, were trying to be near their husbands in the military, but housing in

Florida was hard to find. Local law enforcement officials arrested hundreds of African

Americans on vagrancy charges solely to provide workers for the fields where labor shortages existed. Some of the greatest problems came in the public health sector, though. The large number of departing military draftees and volunteers left the FSHB shorthanded, which meant that it had become harder to administer most of its programs.75

At a time when the board was already overworked, the war also forced it to take on new responsibilities. The board established a health defense program to deal with emergencies during the war. For example, Dr. Thomas Parran, the surgeon general of the PHS, asked states to help protect municipal water supplies from enemy attack. The

74 Gary Mormino, "World War II," in The New History of Florida, 323.

75 Ibid., 330-32.

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FSBH responded by putting into place "anti-sabotage measures" and increased the amount of chlorine in water systems to help prevent the spread of intestinal diseases such as typhoid. The FSBH started stocking up on vaccines and laboratory supplies in case of epidemics if civilians had to be evacuated; planned to exterminate rats that could carry plague or typhus; and put some of its equipment, such as mobile laboratories and X-ray machines, at the ready to treat war injuries. It asked Floridians to get vaccinations against typhoid, whooping cough, diphtheria, and small pox in case of

German assault that would disrupt food and water supplies, thereby placing civilians at risk of contracting these diseases. In addition, the PHS had chosen Florida to help test wartime malaria and mosquito control measures, setting up a trial in Leon County because of its "strategic location." The FBSH provided supervision for the project through its own malaria control bureau.76

The expansion of military installations compelled the FSBH to redouble its efforts at reducing "social diseases." The board had been concentrating on reducing venereal disease rates for several years before the number of cases exploded during the war.

The presence of libidinous young men and prostitutes shot the rate skyward. The problem was most acute in large cities and the areas around military bases. In 1941, only two other states had higher syphilis rates among white men between the ages of

21 and 35. The rate among African American men in the same age group was the highest in the country. The FSBH worked hard to raise awareness about venereal diseases and went so far as to convert three former Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC)

76 "Municipal Water Supplies Protected," Mount Dora Topic, 1 January 1942; "Florida Health Board Puts Its Force on Alert," Orlando Sentinel, 18 January 1942; "Floridians Told to be Immunized," Ft. Lauderdale News, 8 February 1942; "U.S. Will Try Out Malaria Control in One Florida County," Winter Haven Chief, 18 March 1942; and "Florida Chosen for Mosquito Control Work," St. Petersburg Times, 18 March 1942.

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camps into quarantine hospitals for prostitutes with sexually transmitted diseases. In

1942, it also cracked down on houses of prostitution in defense areas, requiring all

"establishments or houses to which venereal cases are traced, will be placed under quarantine."77 With fewer employees, though, the FSBH struggled to provide these services.78

The war also made sewage disposal more difficult. Many of the towns near military installations found that their sewage systems could not handle the waste produced by a burgeoning wartime population. The situation was worse in rural areas.

Migrants flowed into Florida looking for construction jobs near places such as Camp

Blanding. There were no accommodations for these people near the base, so job seekers camped in the countryside in much the same way that tin can tourists had, with no sanitary facilities or running water. Once the construction ended, these migrants rushed to south Florida, joining the other workers in the East Coast stream hoping to find work harvesting crops. The state estimated that over 50,000 people would be moving into Florida for agricultural jobs by February 1941. Although the FSA had built camps for migrant workers, there was a severe housing shortage and public health officials fully expected the health situation to be poor, including malnutrition and the

77 "State Drive to Close Houses of Prostitution," Jacksonville Journal, 30 April 1941.

78 One newspaper article suggested that the war would be a major benefit to public health, at least in terms of sexually transmitted diseases. The unnamed author attributed this trend to the "the importance of the demands of the Army and the Navy that the State , and the various cities throughout Florida that may be visited by service men , increase their programs for prevention and control." It also went on to not that "Dr. L. C. Gonzales, director of the division of venereal disease control of the State Board of Health reports that 87 clinics in the State are averaging 8,843 persons under treatment each month." The subject also became less taboo, which made it easier to spread the word about the seriousness of the diseases and also to obtain the resources necessary to build clinics and institute control measures. "Defense Program Aids Health," Florida Times-Union, 9 February 1941; "State to Place Prostitutes in Old CCC Camps," Tampa Morning Tribune, 24 July 1942; and FHN, 34 (December 1942), 158-59.

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spread of sexually transmitted diseases.79 To make matters worse, the production of sewage systems in Florida had almost come to a standstill because the materials necessary for their construction were in short supply, so there would be few opportunities to provide sanitary facilities for migrants.80

Communities across the nation faced the same predicament. As a result, the

PHS stepped in to help. In 1940, it conducted surveys of health facilities in cities that hosted military installations or that supported the war effort in other important ways.

After the survey, the PHS increased its grants and provided personnel to the communities that were particularly shorthanded. For most cities, the PHS was helpful, but what they really needed was assistance with building water supplies and sewage systems. In 1941, Congress responded to this need by signing the Defense Housing and Community Facilities and Services Act. One of its purposes was to provide housing for employees working on projects related to national defense. The second part of the measure, which was also called the Lanham Act, addressed the need for infrastructure.

Charles P. Taft of the PHS explained that the Lanham Act "provided $150,000,000 in federal funds to aid in the construction of needed public works, including health and sanitation installation, in communities where increased populations or war industry developments imposed excessive strain on existing facilities, and the community did not

79 The FSA was trying to improve health outcomes for migrants by providing $55,000 for a "medical and hospital program" for the migrant work camps in South Florida. The plans included creating the Migrant Labor and Health Association and building a hospital. "Migrant Hospital is Being Planned for Florida Camps," ______, 10 February 1941; and "FSA Will Sponsor Migrant Hospital for Farm Workers," Belle Glade News, 21 February 1941.

80 Hardy and Pynchon, Millstones and Milestones, 47; and Merriman Smith, "Migrant Workers' Living Conditions Becoming Grave," St. Petersburg Times, 3 January 1941.

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have the funds to pay for them."81 This first appropriation was not enough, so Congress added another $150,000,000 for cities to build schools, sewer systems, water systems, and hospitals, and to provide for "social protection," i.e., preventing prostitution and venereal disease.82

With the state's military activity, the Lanham Act became a vital part of sewage financing and construction in Florida. Cities had felt the burden of a growing population and needed assistance but there were just too many material shortages to allow for large-scale infrastructure improvements in all of the places that needed them. In addition, the lack of trained personnel further hindered efforts to improve sanitation.

This problem was so severe that the FSBH, working with the General Extension

Division of the University of Florida, had to provide training programs in sanitary engineering to county health unit personnel. With so many of their personnel devoting time to the war effort, most counties had been forced to employ individuals with very little training in sanitation. The passage of the Lanham Act, however, meant that cities could receive help. In fact, most of the waste disposal projects in Florida during the war years were in defense areas and funded through the Lanham Act. For example, Key

West benefitted from its funds. The U. S. Navy decided to open an air station on the island. Because of its defense activities, Key West then applied for and received almost

$200,000 to build two sewage disposal plants and an outfall line. In fact, federal funding

81 Charles P. Taft, "War and the Health Department," AJPH 33 (January 1943): 16.

82 To receive these funds, the PHS determined a city's need, while the Federal Works Agency was responsible for the actual construction of the new facilities. In 1939, Franklin Roosevelt created the Federal Works Agency (FWA) as part of the Reorganization Act, which helped him reorganize federal organizations to increase their efficiency. The FWA drew together a number of agencies concerned with public works, including the PWA, the WPA, the National Parks Service, the U. S. Housing Authority, and several other organizations of this type. Joseph La Rocca, "Providing Community Facilities In Defense Areas," Journal of Education Sociology 15 (April 1942): 498-505.

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during the war was responsible for leading Florida into a new era of sanitation. The

FSBH claimed that "the year 1941 has marked the introduction of modern sewage treatment to the state," which would not have been possible without the help of the federal government.83

Many small, rural communities were not directly involved in the war effort, so they were not eligible for assistance from the Lanham Act. The economic boost provided by the war led to the discontinuation of most New Deal agencies, such as the WPA. With their passing, much of the assistance with the construction of sanitary privies that small towns enjoyed during the depression ended. Soon the federal government found a way to fill this gap left by state services, at least in some areas of Florida. This aid came from conscientious objectors (COs).84 Men who objected to military service for political,

83 FSBH, Annual Report, 1941, 139; FSBH, Annual Report, 1941, 154; and FHN 35 (August 1943), 133-35.

84 CPS in World War II took shape as a result of the treatment of conscientious objectors in World War I. The Selective Service Act of 1917 prohibited the fees and substitutes that some pacifists (and wealth citizens) used to avoid military service. It also narrowly defined who could claim CO status, limiting it to "any well recognized religious sect. . . whose principles forbid its members to participate in war in any form."84 Furthermore, COs still had to join the military and serve in noncombatant positions, which was unconscionable for some members of the Historic Peace Churches.84 The men who refused to cooperate once they arrived at military training bases were often abused by their superiors and over five hundred of them faced a court martial. Four hundred fifty COs resisting the draft served prison terms while seventeen faced a death sentence. The treatment that the COs received gradually improved over the course of the war, though. In June of 1918 Secretary of War Newton D. Baker created the Board of Inquiry that considered the problem of the most ardent pacifists and their rejection of military authority. Baker did not want to allow COs to engage in civilian jobs, but Congress took the current labor shortage into consideration and passed the Farm Furlough Act of 1918. It allowed COs to work as agricultural laborers, to assist the American Friends Service Committee with relief projects overseas, and to hold jobs in industry. After examining their sincerity, the Board of Inquiry assigned roughly 2,000 men to these types of positions.

After the war, the Historic Peace Churches began working together to improve the treatment of conscientious objectors. When it became clear that there would indeed be another armed conflict, Congress passed the Selective Training and Service Act of 1940, which defined conscientious objection in the same way as the Service Act of 1917. Objecting to the provisions of the act, the Historic Peace Churches sent a delegation to President Franklin Roosevelt on behalf of COs. Advocates for COs also spoke before the Senate and House Military Affairs Committees. They were able to convince legislators of the need to change the provisions for the treatment of COs, so Congress added Section 5(g) to the Selective Training and Service Act. It allowed for pacifists outside of the Historic Peace Churches to claim CO status and provided for noncombatant civil service. Quoted in Mitchell Lee Robinson, "Civilian

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religious, or ethical reasons, were required to register as conscientious objectors and conduct "work of national importance" in lieu of military service.85

The roughly twelve thousand men who chose CPS over military noncombatant service labored on a variety of different projects. Several of the camps worked in conjunction with federal agencies that included the Soil Conservation Service, the

National Parks Service, and the U.S. Forest Service. According to Steven J. Taylor, who studied COs, the men "maintained parks and nurseries; constructed roads, bridges, and truck trails; dug ditches; fought forest fires; and engaged in other public works projects."86 CPS included projects in the medical and public health arena as well.

Some men participated in medical experiments in which doctors infected them with diseases such as malaria and hepatitis, while others worked with scientists from the

University of Minnesota in starvation experiments intended to help with the rehabilitation of Europeans who faced famine during the war. The men of CPS also worked in mental

Public Service During World War II: The Dilemmas of Consciousness and Conscription in a Free Society," (Ph.D. diss., Cornell University, 1990) ," 51; Heather Frazer and John O'Sullivan, eds., "We Have Just Begun to Not Fight": An Oral History of Conscientious Objectors in Civilian Public Service during World War II (New York: Twayne Publishers; London: Prentice Hall International, 1996), xiv; R. R. Russell, "Development of Conscientious Objector Recognition in the United States," George Washington Law Review 20 (1951-52): 48-60; and Mulford Q. Sibley and Phillip E. Jacob, Conscription of Conscience: The American State and the Conscientious Objector, 1940-1947 (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1952), 10- 16.

85 For the most part, COs came from three religious groups: the Society of Friends (also called Quakers), the Mennonites, and the Church of the Brethren, which, as a group, were called the Historic Peace Churches. Their members believed in pacifism and so to them, participation in military action was morally wrong. In smaller numbers, COs came out of the Roman Catholic, Jehovah's Witnesses, Methodist, and Episcopalian churches, whose members became COs. Finally, an even smaller number of COs emerged from secular organizations such as the War Resisters League and the Fellowship of Reconciliation. Robinson, "Civilian Public Service During World War II," 2; and Russell, "Development of Conscientious Objector Recognition in the United States," 409-11.

86 Steven J. Taylor, Acts of Conscience: World War II, Mental Institutions, and Religious Objectors (Syracuse, New York: Syracuse University Press, 2009), 1.

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health institutions, where they were exposed the brutal treatment that mental health patients received at the hands of the doctors and staff charged with their care.87

The need for labor in public health work led to the creation of CPS Camp Number

27, which was devoted to the construction of sanitary privies. This camp was located in

Florida, with the FSBH providing technical supervision.88 Before CPS discontinued its operations in Florida, men in the CPS camps at Crestview, Tallahassee, Mulberry, and

Orlando constructed thousands of privies. Letters and writings from these men revealed that they thought their work amid some of the poorest residents of Florida really was work of national importance, unlike CPS projects in other parts of the country.

They met members of the communities located near their camps and saw firsthand how hookworm affected its victims. They also engaged in other public health activities that

87 CO's became particularly well known for efforts at smoke jumping, in which they parachuted out of planes to extinguish wild fires. In fact, COs helped perfect firefighting techniques that are still being used by the U.S. Forest Service.

Although CPS was an improvement over the provisions put in place during World War I, it was far from perfect. Franklin Roosevelt was not in favor of the CPS experiment. It took several tries on the part of Selective Service and the NSBRO before he would approve the program, and the Historic Peace Churches had to agree to pay for the administration of CPS before he would approve. It was an expensive burden for the churches, costing over seven million dollars, and the peace churches paid for not only their own members, but also for the needs of COs outside of their denominations. The federal government did provide equipment and the use of CCC camps for the work projects, but placing the men in some of the remotest areas of America was more for separating COs from the rest of the population than it was about a smart use of existing resources. In addition, unlike their counterparts in the military, for the most part COs did not receive benefits or payment for their efforts. Their work during the war was considerable; COs provided over eight million hours of labor between the beginning of the program in 1941 and its end in 1947. Had the project only been of a short duration it would not have been such a hardship on the men of CPS and their families, but their service, which was only supposed to have been for a year, stretched out to the end of the war and beyond. Finally, CPS did not meet the needs of all pacifists. Some men objected to all forms of conscripted service, including CPS, and so their only alternative was to serve a prison sentence. Frazer and O'Sullivan, "We Have Just Begun to Not Fight," xx-xxi; Edgar L. Money, "An Analysis of Civilian Public Service Camp Twenty-Seven F, Orlando Florida," (M.A. Thesis, Florida Atlantic University, 1975), 25; Mark Matthews, Smoke Jumping on the Western Fire Line: Conscientious Objectors during World War II (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 2006), 4; Taylor, Acts of Conscience, 1-5; "Men Starve in Minnesota," Life Magazine, 30 July 1945, 43-46; and Albert Q. Maisel, "Bedlam 1946: Most U.S. Mental Hospitals are a Shame and a Disgrace," Life Magazine, 6 May 1946.

88 Collectively, the various CO outposts in Florida fell under the designation 27F.

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supported the efforts of the FSBH. During its time in Florida local disapproval forced

CPS to move two of its camps. Nevertheless, when the COs left the state, it was a much more sanitary place than when they arrived.89

CPS opened its first Florida camp, operated by the Brethren Service Committee, in March of 1942 in the panhandle town of Crestview. It was a small operation, starting with four men on six acres. For privy construction, they used a power saw to cut out the wooden pieces for the upper portion of the structure, relying upon a pattern that they created to make construction easier and faster. They then cast a leak-proof concrete base for each unit. After preparing their materials, they put the pieces together and painted the privy. Once they arrived at the homeowner's property, they dug a hole, set the precast base, and attached the wooden portion to the bottom.90 After the COs were done, the property owner and his or her family had a fly proof, sanitary privy that was often in better condition than the home that it served.91

The COs had clients that were as varied as their tasks. Most of the people they worked for were private homeowners, but they also assisted schools, churches, and

89 FSBH, Annual Report, 1943, 164-66; and "War Objector Camp to be Established in West Florida," Tampa Morning Tribune, 8 April 1942.

90 In some of the camps, the COs did not preassemble the privy, preferring to construct it on site.

91 When not designing a standardized construction model for, the COs had other duties to fill their time. CPS had agreed to work with the FSA's clients, so they built sanitary privies and dug wells for farmers. The well digging was different from privy construction in that a pair of men spent the week boarding with their client while they dug the well, then returned to the camp on the weekend. In addition, the COs constructed septic tanks for the homeowners who could afford the materials, and the two men assigned to this task also stayed with the homeowner for the duration of the job. Most of the other tasks did not require the men to be away overnight, such as installing screens on homes to keep out mosquitoes. They also helped families coping with tuberculosis by erecting isolation rooms for the ill. Finally, they fashioned dish sterilizers for local restaurants and assisted veterinarians testing cows for brucellosis. Leslie Eisan, Pathways of Peace: A History of the Civilian Public Service Program Administered by the Brethren Service Committee (Elgin, IL: Brethren Publishing House, 1948), 274-75; "Health Work Underway," Crestviews 1 (August 1942): 1; and "Migrants," Crestviews 2 (November 1943), 1.

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restaurants. At first, their pace was slow; it took nine days to complete one privy. At

Crestview, this was mostly the result of a war-time lumber shortage and a lack of transportation. The camp did not have its own truck to deliver the privies, so COs borrowed one from the City of Crestview. Once they were able to secure more supplies and a truck (they received their own from Selective Service in January of 1943), the

COs were able to get through their backlog of orders and gradually reduced the time it took to complete a privy to five days. As they constructed more privies, and more of the residents of Crestview saw the units, the number of requests for privies increased.

Because COs received no compensation for their efforts and because they were so efficient, they helped bring down the cost of privies so that more people could afford them.92

92 Okaloosa County, where Crestview was located, had a hookworm incidence rate of 70%, so it was the perfect choice for a CPS camp. Other counties with large numbers of hookworm sufferers wanted to benefit from CO labor as well. As a result, the camp leadership at Crestview agreed to send out some of the men to work with health authorities outside Okaloosa County. They established a side camp in Walton County, in the community of DeFuniak Springs. It only lasted two weeks, but during that time the COs built one privy, installed two wells, and completed a couple of small tasks for the county school. Camp Crestview also opened a second side camp of five men at the town of Milton in Santa Rosa County. It was meant to be more permanent than the camp at DeFuniak Springs; the COs lived in a couple of small buildings that had once been part of the Santa Rosa County poor farm. They also outfitted the camp with running water and a small WPA building contributed by the county served as a shower room.

After establishing their camp, the men in Milton planned to work independently, only returning to Crestview once a month. They secured their own lumber, which was as big a challenge in Milton as it was in Crestview. Besides the lumber problem, the camp's existence was at stake when the county sanitarian resigned. Without a local health director to work with, the men left for Crestview, but returned when the county hired a new sanitarian. "Civilian Public Service Hookworm Project," Gospel Messenger, 19 September 1942; "Health Work Underway," 1; Roland Bartel, "Hookworm Sanitation for the Public Health Service," Men at Work, Spring 1943, 25; "The American Friends Service Committee Participation in Programs of Mental Hygiene and Public Health Through Administration of Civilian Public Service," 3, folder Service Detached Medical Sanitation Hookworm Project-Orlando January-June 1945, Box 39B, Series M,3 Service--Detached Medical, Section 1: Civilian Public Service Administration Files,1940-1946, Records of the American Friends Service Committee, (hereafter AFSC), Swarthmore College Peace Collection (hereafter SCPC), Swarthmore College, Swarthmore, Pennsylvania; "Crestview Notes," 25 January 1943, 1, folder Service Detached Medical Sanitation-Hookworm Project Misc., Box 39B, AFSC Files, SCPC; Ralph Townsend to Harold Row, Henry Fast, and Paul Furnas, Subject: General Report, 16 February 1943; folder Service Detached Medical Sanitation-Hookworm Project Misc., Box 39B, AFSC Files, SCPC; and Ralph Townsend to W. H. Row, Henry Fast, and Paul Furnas, Subject: General Report,

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Although they tried hard to foster goodwill, there were some citizens who objected to the COs' presence. The men at Milton had done a lot for the schools, but the superintendent decided that he did not want them to do any more work. Then the local lumber mill refused to sell them wood so they had to travel to Pensacola for their supplies. They returned to work, however, when the county commissioners said they wanted the COs to stay. They also stirred up trouble at a side camp established in the town of Baghdad. At first they received a warm reception from their neighbors, who thought they were members of the army. When word got out that the men were COs, rumors started to spread, including one claim that they were spies or "undesirable aliens" working on some mysterious project. They had to move their campsite from the grounds of a school when eight men from Baghdad, whose sons were in the army, complained to the superintendent of schools. They relocated to premises near the county's poor farm. They became acquainted with the warden, his family, and some of the African American prisoners. In fact, the warden's son and five of the prisoners joined the COs in a friendly baseball game. All of the COs were white and they also freely discussed race relations with the black prisoners, which helped the COs gain a greater understanding of the race problem in the South.93

10 December 1942, folder Service Detached Medical Sanitation-Hookworm Project Misc., Box 39B, AFSC Files, SCPC; "Health Work Underway," 1,4; "Crestview Notes," 26 March 1943, 1, folder Service Detached Medical Sanitation-Hookworm Project Misc., Box 39B, AFSC Files, SCPC; "Side Camp Opens," Crestviews 1 (September 1942), 1.

93 "War Objectors in Camp Here," Milton Gazette, 23 July 1942; "Crestview Notes," 25 January 1943, 1, folder Service Detached Medical Sanitation-Hookworm Project Misc., Box 39B, AFSC Files, SCPC; Ralph Townsend to Harold Row, Henry Fast, and Paul Furnas, Subject: General Report, 16 February 1943; folder Service Detached Medical Sanitation-Hookworm Project Misc., Box 39B, AFSC Files, SCPC; and Ralph Townsend to W. H. Row, Henry Fast, and Paul Furnas, Subject: General Report, 10 December 1942, folder Service Detached Medical Sanitation-Hookworm Project Misc., Box 39B, AFSC Files, SCPC; and Smedley Bartram to Dane, 20 August 1942, folder Service Detached Medical Sanitation-Hookworm Project Misc., Box 39B, AFSC Files, SCPC.

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These incidents were quite small compared with the trouble at Crestview. Ill will toward conscientious objection, led, in part, to the closure of the camp. One of the local newspapers launched a campaign against the COs. Eisan claimed that "a careful reading of the published articles [in the town's newspapers] leaves the feeling that the dominant motive of the newspaper was to criticize and discredit those local government officials who had consented to the establishment of the unit in Crestview and who were the political opponents of the group represented by the paper."94 As a result, the administrators of CPS decided that the camp at Crestview should relocate to a different part of Florida.

After making this decision, CPS selected a new site for Camp 27 in Wakulla

County, on the other end of the panhandle about 15 miles south of Tallahassee. The 21 men at Crestview finished their projects and prepared for the move. During their time at

Crestview, they built 575 privies, 55 wells, 38 septic tanks, 3 tuberculosis houses, and screened 31 homes. They looked forward to doing similar work at their new camp, which would serve both Wakulla and Franklin counties. Although the hookworm incidence rate was only around 30%, there were few sanitary privies and a poor population that could not afford to install them.95 The camp was located in Apalachicola

94 A memo from the NSBRO that detailed an investigation into the matter came to a similar conclusion, noting that "the controversy seems largely political, an effort of the 'outs' to involve certain men now holding public office." In other words, the COs became the scapegoats in a local political dispute. Unfortunately, their supporters were of little help, as the memo said that "the opponents were more vociferous and more willing to express themselves than the others, and most of those who were favorable to the Camp seemed rather hesitant in expressing their sentiments." Eisan, Pathways of Peace, 284; and NSBRO, Executive Camp Directors Memorandum No.152, Subject: Rural Public Health Units in Florida, 25 June 1943, 1, folder Service Detached Medical Sanitation-Hookworm Project Misc., Box 39B, AFSC Files, SCPC.

95 Back in Crestview, the response to the move was one of surprise. Ralph Townsend, the camp's director, noted that "the reaction we have received to our moving has been largely one of wonderment as to why it is necessary for us to move and an increasing realization of the need for the work we are doing." He also claimed that "many people have wanted to know what could be done to

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National Forest, which provided employment for 40% of the residents in Franklin and

Wakulla Counties. The administration of CPS wanted to find a way to benefit employment in the area, so it joined with the U.S. Forest Service. Half of the COs in the camp installed sanitary privies while the other half fought forest fires and engaged in forestry work to preserve and improve forest resources. In this arrangement, the FSBH provided the tools for privy construction; the U.S. Forest Service contributed logging tools and a truck; while the camp was responsible for procuring a saw mill.96

Health officials estimated that Franklin and Wakulla Counties needed 1,200 sanitary privies. The COs perfected their privy building technique, taking only five days to build one unit, which included cutting the timber and the lumber. In addition, the

FSBH hoped that the COs would assist other counties as well, including nearby

Jefferson, which needed 500 privies of its own. The COs did reach out to their neighbors. When sanitarians from several county health units visited the camp, the

COs taught them their production methods, supplied their guests with their templates, and also gave them of their some prefabricated privies (minus the concrete base).

These actions had a far-reaching effect. Eisan explained that "through their work the

keep the camp here." Ralph Townsend, Special Report of CPS Camp No. 27, Crestview FL, 8 November 1943, 1, folder Service Detached Medical Sanitation Hookworm Project 1943, Box 39C, AFSC Files, SCPC; and Ralph Townsend, Wakulla Unit CPS Camp No. 27 Florida Health and Sanitation Project, 29 February 1944, 1-3, folder CPS Orlando, box 48B, AFSC Files, SCPC.

96 The development of the Wakulla camp was much like that of Crestview. The COs' first assignment was to build the quarters and outbuildings for the camp. Once established, it became functional and work began. Privy construction was slightly different, though, because the men had to cut their own timber, use the sawmill to form the lumber, and then construct the privy. The FSBH had permission to cut as much lumber as needed free of charge; consequently, they avoided the material shortages that plagued Crestview. Townsend, Wakulla Unit CPS Camp No. 27, Florida Health and Sanitation Project, 2-4; Memo #456 Second Supplement to Memo #443, from W. Harold Row, to Directors and Men in BCPS, RE: Additional Information on Florida Hookworm Project, 27 December 1943, folder Service Detached Medical Sanitation-Hookworm Project Misc., Box 39B, AFSC Files, SCPC; and Eisan, Pathways of Peace, 288.

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members of the Tallahassee unit stimulated the growth of other similar projects, contributed to more efficient production methods, and in a time of shortage, furnished a source of lumber supply to projects which otherwise would have been handicapped severely or totally curtailed."97 If CPS had been able to provide more men for the project, then the camp could have been even more productive.98

The decision to move the COs from Crestview to Tallahassee was only one of the changes that the CPS camps in Florida went through in 1943. At the same time, the camp also split into three separate units.99 One of those units found a home in Polk

County near the town of Mulberry. Like the Crestview camp, this project was administered by the Mennonite Central Committee and worked with both the FSBH and the county's board of health. The camp also received support from the county commissioner, who lent tools and a truck to the COs in addition to paying $150 per month in rent to a phosphate mining company for the camp site.100

Once the COs arrived at the camp they began by assigning two of their men conduct a sanitary survey of every home in Polk County. In November 1944, the head of the Polk County Health Department, Dr. Lawrence M. Zell, became involved with the project. He dramatically changed the way the COs conducted the survey, organizing the work according to the county's precincts. The survey party, which had increased to four men by March of 1945, was a popular assignment in the camp because it gave the

97 Eisan, Pathways of Peace, 288.

98 Memo #456, 27 December 1943, 2; and Memorandum of Understanding, n.d., 4, folder CPS #27-Orlando, box 48B, Series O, , AFSC Files, SCPC.

99 The administrative headquarters for Florida's CPS project was at the Tallahassee camp.

100 Townsend, Wakulla Unit CPS Camp No. 27 Fl Sanitation Report, 1; and Special Report of CPS Camp #27, Polk County Unit Mulberry, Florida, 2 November 1945, 1.

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men greater contact with the people they were attempting to help. They gained information by knocking on a homeowner's door, asking questions about sanitation in the home, and putting the information on a pre-printed card provided by the FSBH. The survey revealed that 57% of the county's rural residents used an insanitary privy.101

Meanwhile, the rest of the COs worked on sanitation projects at the Mulberry camp. During their first month, the men initially prepared enough materials to install 25 privies, with a goal to install 50 per month. They were working hard, one report explained, because "with the large investment in camp location, equipment, etc., which the local health officers have made, it is important that we be able to increase the output so the overhead costs per privy can be reduced."102 With fourteen men working on construction and installation, the COs surpassed their goal and completed 68 units during their first month at Mulberry. By October of 1944, the total number of privies completed had risen to 1,015.103

The third CPS unit that formed after the move from Crestview, was located in

Orlando. Orange County had a 30% hookworm incidence rate, so it needed assistance with sanitation. It would have also been close enough to nearby Seminole and Lake

101 Ibid.; and "Survey Reports on Sanitation," Box 96 (March 1945), 5-6.

102 Special Report Of CPS Camp #27, Polk County Unit Mulberry, Florida--November 2, 1943, 1, folder Service Detached Medical Sanitation Hookworm Project, 1943, box 39C, AFSC Files, SCPC.

103 When the COs took time away from privy building, they found other tasks to keep busy. One of their duties included making wire baskets used to clean dishes in local school cafeterias. In September of 1944 they added the construction of septic tanks to their agenda. They constructed five in that first month alone, and their recipients included two widows and a beer parlor. The men who installed the septic tanks decided that they would only work on them at times when privy orders slowed down because it took longer to build a septic tank than a privy (they could build three privies for every septic tank) and the people at greatest risk for contracting hookworm were those with insanitary privies. They also seemed less inclined to provide their services to commercial establishments, like the beer parlor, which could afford to hire professionals to do the job. Ibid.; and Walfred Lindstrom, Report On Visit to Various Units, CPS Project No. 27, Florida, October 19, 20, 21, 30 1944, 2, folder Service Detached Medical Sanitation Hookworm Project (Orlando), box 39B, AFSC Files, SCPC; and "Septic Tank Corps," Box 96, September 1944.

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Counties to establish side camps, where there were large numbers of people suffering from hookworm.104 First and foremost on the agenda was the construction of sanitary privies, with 1251 of them completed between September 1943 and November of 1945.

This effort required 4,180 man-days of labor with an average of 3.4 days to complete one privy. Meanwhile, one of the COs, Lawrence Lantz Miller, worked for the FSBH's

Bureau of Dental Health, helping to alleviate a personnel shortage. Miller served in the

"Dentomobile," which was a traveling dental office housed in a 24-foot long trailer that provided free dental work to the poor. Meanwhile, his colleagues back in camp created a "hundred silk-screen process signs warning shellfish hunters of polluted waters," in addition to signs for health clinics. The COs were also particularly active in the schools, painting, plumbing, and making repairs on the facilities at both black and white institutions. Finally, they made enclosures around baby beds to protect infants from

104 The Orlando unit had a very different experience with public relations. At first, CPS administrators had every indication that the people in and around Orlando would accept the COs in their midst, such as an assurance from the editor of the Orlando Sentinel-Star that the town's two newspapers would not try to interfere with the camp. Finally, the mayor of Orlando, the County Commissioners, and the local health department were all in favor of having the camp in Orlando. With everyone who was involved with the project in agreement that Orlando was a good spot, the camp went forward. A local resident rented part of her lakefront property to the COs, while the FSBH, the Orange County Health Department, and Selective Service all contributed the necessary tools and supplies to get the camp on its feet. Instead of being overseen by the Mennonite Central Committee, the American Friends Service Committee ran the camp. The COs at Orlando also bent the rules set by CPS. For example, several of the men had their wives and children living with them at the camp. Some kept private automobiles, while others had part time jobs outside the camp or even owned their own businesses. CPS did not allow any of these activities in the camps, yet the men at Orlando went about them without punishment. Money, "An Analysis of Civilian Public Service Camp Twenty-Seven F," 41, 47; Lester Clarke and Werner L. Janney, eds., Camp 27F, A Souvenir, 2.Memo to J. B. Miller from R. G. Carter, Subject: Proposed CPS Camp for Orange County, 20 May 1943, 1-2, folder Service Detached Medical Sanitation-Hookworm Project Misc., Box 39B, AFSC Files, SCPC; and NSBRO Memorandum to Executive Camp Directors, # 139, 31 May 1943, 1, folder Service Detached Medical Sanitation-Hookworm Project Misc., Box 39B, AFSC Files, SCPC.

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flies, made repairs at two health units, and one CO, along with his wife, provided a month's care for a typhoid patient.105

It was these miscellaneous projects that led the COs into trouble. A number of the men in the camp had requested placement in the Orlando unit because they believed it would help them to better study race relations. Their faith led them to believe very strongly in racial equality and they tried hard to treat their many African American clients with respect. The men had been working at the Hungerford School, which was an African American institution. The COs invited its principal and his wife to have dinner at their camp. A memo from within the camp noted that once word spread about the

COs having an African American couple as visitors, the men "were advised that it would be well to exercise caution in the future, that a delicate matter of public relations was involved."106

The COs vowed to be more careful, but they created controversy a second time.

While working at Jones High School, they became friendly with the African American students and decided to hold a party in celebration of the graduating seniors. At the party, which they held at the school, students, teachers, and the COs played games, had refreshments, and tried square dancing. A couple of weeks after the event, a teacher at the school, who had had issues with the principal, told the Klu Klux Klan about the party. The Klan contacted the school board, the county commissioners, and the American Legion. After an investigation, the county commissioners asked the

Orange County Health Unit, which oversaw the privy construction, to ask for the unit to

105 Camp 27F, A Souvenir, 3; Supplement to "Information," 1 (February 24, 1944), 1-2; Special Report of CPS Camp #27 Orange County Unit--November 2,1943, 1.

106 "The Race Problem and the Orlando Unit," 4 June 1944, 1-2, folder Service Detached Medical Sanitation Hookworm Project (Orlando), box 39B, AFSC Files, SCPC.

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be disbanded. Because of negotiations between CPS, the FSBH, and the health unit, the camp stayed, but the men who had thrown the party had to transfer to another camp if they could not abide by local practices regarding race. Ten of the 25 COs at Orlando agreed to leave.107

After the incident, the camp was unsettled for several weeks. Morale was low and activities decreased. Eventually, though, camp life returned to normal, as new men replaced the ones who had transferred. Some of the COs were still interested in working on race relations, proposing the establishment of parks and recreation facilities; a credit union; a store based on cooperative buying; and relationships between African

Americans and white church groups. With public sentiment against them, however, none of these plans came to fruition. Work on the privies continued, even as camps in other parts of the country protested against CPS as Selective Service grew stricter in its administration of the program towards the end of the war. As time went on, relations with the leaders of Orange County soured once more. The COs had trouble with the

Orange County Health Department when a physician who was opposed to conscientious objection became its new director. The county commissioners also changed expected work quotas for the camp, so at this point the AFSC moved the camp in November of 1945.108

The AFSC chose a location near Gainesville for the new camp. The University of

Florida received money to train personnel from the PHS and wanted a privy-building

107 Memo #452, to Camps and Units from Lou Schneider, Subject: Orlando, Florida, Unit CPS No. 27, 6 July 1944, 1-2, folder Service Detached Medical Sanitation Hookworm Project (Orlando), box 39B, AFSC Files, SCPC; and letter from Robert Savage to ?, 1 June 1944, 1, folder Service Detached Medical Sanitation Hookworm Project (Orlando), box 39B, AFSC Files, SCPC.

108 Money, "An Analysis of Civilian Public Service Camp Twenty-Seven F," 113-28; and "Race Problem and the Orlando Unit," 4.

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plant like the ones that the CPS had been operating, so the AFSC agreed to move its operations to Gainesville. COs from Mulberry put the privy plant together and the men from Orlando began building privies for families in and around the city. The project was short lived, though. The war had ended and in February 1946, the AFSC began withdrawing from CPS. The Brethren Service Committee took over the camp, but some of the men were already receiving their discharge orders. The camp gradually shut down, and by 1947 CPS was over.109

The COs and the federal laborers that came before them were responsible for the construction of thousands of privies. Had they not been available, sanitation in

Florida would have suffered a serious setback during the Great Depression and World

War II. Federal assistance—the manual labor end of executed by relief workers and military conscientious objectors, permanent Florida residents and temporary residents— allowed the FSBH to continue and expand its programs during hard times that might have otherwise meant the end to its agenda. Seemingly antimodern technologies, though improved, remained in operation but would soon after the war reach its end. As a result of the federal assistance in depression and war, public health in Florida emerged from the 1930s and 1940s in a better place than anyone expected. This was fortunate, because the nature of public health in Florida started to change. After the war soldiers returned home en masse, and Florida became a coveted place for families looking for a fresh start. The late 1940s and the 1950s would present new challenges in

109 John Bard McCallister to Louis Schneider, 1 October 1945, 1, folder Service (D)-Medical Sanitation Hookworm Project-Orlando January-June 1945, AFSC Files, SCPC; and Eisan, Pathways of Peace, 283.

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public health as the population swelled and Florida joined in the post-war prosperity sweeping the nation.

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CHAPTER 4 POST-WAR PROSPERITY, GROWTH, AND CHANGES IN SANITATION

During the early 1940s, the FSBH was preoccupied by the war effort. This did not mean it neglected its responsibility to the people of Florida. In fact, the war years brought the first of many major changes to public health in Florida, in spite of a lack of personnel and a shortage of supplies. At the same time, the 1940s were really the end of an era. Florida was the nation’s fastest growing state. The 1950s and the 1960s brought with them economic prosperity, a population and building explosion, and the rise of Florida as a Sunbelt state.

The 1950s and 1960s also was a period of transition for public health. The spread of the suburbs brought new challenges and forced the FSBH to change how it would address sewage disposal. It would no longer encourage the construction of the sanitary privy. It also found that use of the septic tank, which sanitary engineers had previously encouraged, was not the answer either. In previous years, for families living outside metropolitan centers, the septic tank was a good solution for sewage-disposal problems, if they could afford to have one installed. After the war, however, developers created entire communities of nearly identical, affordable houses on farmland and wetlands. Some were not close enough to cities to have a connection to municipal water and waste disposal systems, so the septic tank became the norm. But property owners and sanitarians soon found out that what worked in the country was not necessarily suitable for the suburbs.

The problems with septic tanks were, in part, a result of federal legislation. The

FHA and the VA programs to encourage home ownership led to the creation of cookie- cutter subdivisions. These same agencies also encouraged the installation of septic

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tanks. When widespread failure of septic tanks occurred, the federal government did little to remedy the situation. Instead, the FSBH had to find a new approach to sanitation. It now attempted to stop pollution by creating new standards and rules for septic tanks and encouraged the construction of sewage treatment plants. Many communities failed to recognize the environmental and health benefits of sewage treatment plants or could not afford them, and found ways to circumvent the FSBH's regulations regarding sewage. Other interest groups, such as the septic tank companies and developers, stood to lose money if the FSBH prevailed and attempted to stop the new regulations from taking effect. Furthermore, the growth of infrastructure could not keep up with the growth of the population. Industry, communities, and health officials had to work together to arrest this alarming trend. Jacksonville serves as a good example of the negotiations between municipal leaders and the FSBH. The city had to balance the need to provide sewage disposal facilities with the need to provide for other civic improvements. It also had to face the requirements of the FSBH, which threatened to take legal action against the city if it did not comply with standards. To make matters more complicated, race played a part in the decision to extend sewer lines. Officials chose not to provide expensive connections to the city sewage treatment system to African American communities and chose to situate treatment plants in black neighborhoods. Nevertheless, the FSBH did convince cities and individuals of the importance of sanitary sewage disposal, and Florida was well on its way to protecting health by doing away with privies and attempting to limit the number of septic tanks in favor of sewage treatment plants.

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After World War II ended, the FSBH stopped worrying about war-time health concerns and turned back to its normal agenda. In fact, the mid-to-late 1940s brought substantial gains for public health in Florida. The FSBH received good news in 1947 when the state legislature doubled the board's appropriation. This extra money helped fifteen counties establish their own health departments in 1948. Now sixty out of the state's sixty-seven counties had their own health boards and Florida had earned a new distinction: no other state had a higher percentage of its population being served by a county health organization. The increase also helped support several other projects, including mosquito control efforts, a "cancer control" program, and a new branch laboratory to be located in Orlando. At the same time, the FSBH accepted new responsibilities. With the passage of the Hospital Survey and Construction Act in 1946, the FSBH had to inspect and regulate hospitals in the state.1 The federal government also gave Florida money to start a mental health program, and the governor placed the project in the hands of the FSBH.2

The FSBH also achieved similar results with mosquitoes; it had been contending with this insect since its founding as it attempted to control the spread of mosquito-

1 The Hospital Survey and Construction Act of 1946, or the Hill-Burton Act, was a major piece of legislation that financed hospital construction across the South. According to public health Karen Kruse Thomas, “From 1947 to 1971 Hill-Burton underwrote the creation of a modern health care infrastructure with $3.7 billion in federal funding and $9.1 billion in matches from state and local governments. Space for nearly a half million beds was constructed in 10,748 projects, including nursing homes, mental health and other specialized facilities, and public health centers as well as hospitals." She also notes that “Hill- Burton was the first federal program to incorporate a graduated, need-based allocation formula that favored the South, paving the way for federal sponsorship of health, education, and welfare as well as costly new infrastructure that made Sun Belt prosperity possible while allowing southern states to maintain low taxes. " The bill required equal funding for both black and white patients in areas where segregation by defended by law, leading Southern hospitals to admit black and white patients into the same hospitals and then segregating them by ward or floor. Karen Kruse Thomas, “The Hill-Burton Act and Civil Rights: Expanding Hospital Care for Black Southerners, 1939-1960, Journal of Southern History (November 2006): 823-25.

2 FSBH, Annual Report, 1947, i-ii.

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borne illnesses. The board still struggled with mosquitoes in the 1930s, when Florida received support to investigate malaria. The state's entomologists found that their studies took on a new urgency during World War II with the United States government's pressing need to protect its soldiers from malaria as they trained in Florida or served overseas. As a result, the military established mosquito-control programs in its installations across the South supported by the PHS. During the course of their investigations, scientists studying mosquitoes found that a chemical called dichloro- diphenhyl-trichloroethane, or DDT, was devastating to insects. After the war, when

DDT became readily available, the FSBH began liberally spraying the substance in counties across Florida. The results were dramatic. The communities that had participated in the spraying program reported significant reductions in local mosquito populations and the FSBH considered malaria to have been eradicated by 1950. It seemed that for the first time the mosquito had almost been vanquished in Florida.3

The FSBH's new triumphs and challenges were only a small part of what was happening in Florida in the 1940s and 1950s. The state experienced unprecedented growth and economic development. The state of Florida was not alone in its transformation. The rest of the nation was also undergoing sweeping changes. Former

GIs and their wives, many of whom had delayed marrying and starting their families because of the war, caused the nation's birthrate to increase dramatically after 1945.

They wanted new homes for their growing families, but a housing shortage after the war meant that young couples had to live in small apartments or move in with family

3 Raymond Arsenault, "The End of the Long Hot Summer: The Air Conditioner and Southern Culture," Journal of Southern History 50 (November 1984): 597-628; Gary R. Mormino, Land of Sunshine, State of Dreams: A Social History of Modern Florida (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2005), 83, 236-41; and Hardy and Pynchon, Millstones and Milestones, 56.

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members. The availability of the G.I. Bill allowed many men to get better jobs and afford their own homes. It became possible for them to do so after Congress created the Federal Housing Administration (FHA) in 1934 to create jobs and increase construction of houses. The program guaranteed loans by private lenders, reducing their risk and allowing them to loan more money. It also established minimum standards that Kenneth T. Jackson claimed were to ”insure with at least statistical accuracy that the dwelling would be free of gross structural or mechanical deficiencies.”4 In spite of this shot in the arm to the building industry, construction slowed during the depression and war years. After the war was over, the need for housing was so great that the federal government granted billions of dollars to the FHA to spur the construction of five million homes to satisfy the demand. In addition, the government reached out to veterans through 1944's Servicemen's Readjustment Act, which created a mortgage program through the VA that was similar to the FHA's.5

The FHA and VA policies directly benefitted larger builders that produced multiple houses at one time. John W. Wakefield, an official with the FSBH, explained that “federal agencies were empowered to guarantee payment of mortgages, not merely for the ultimate buyer, but for the builder or developer of entire subdivisions. This led to the development of whole subdivisions by builders who not only laid out the land, but also built the houses in wholesale numbers before retailing them to the public.” 6

4 Kenneth T. Jackson, Crabgrass Frontier: The Suburbanization of the United States (New York: Oxford University Press, 1985), 205.

5 Ibid., 232-33

6 John W. Wakefield, “Fringe Area Sanitation Problems In Florida,” in “Community Planning and Development: Proceedings of the 7th Florida Municipal and Public Health Engineering Conference, March 9-10, 1954," Engineering Progress at the University of Florida, 8, no. 5 (May 1954): 11.

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Contractors began to produce large numbers of identical homes at prices that most families could afford.7

Cheap gasoline and the National Highway Act of 1956, which created 41,000 miles of new highways almost entirely funded by the federal government, supported the dominance of the automobile and allowed suburbs to spread far outside urban areas.8

New highways also encouraged people to hit the road for their vacations, and Florida was one of their top destinations. Although the Sunshine State had long been a tourist hotspot, new roads led even more visitors to its sandy beaches.9 Many of these visitors decided to make Florida their home. Sunny skies, the spread of the air conditioner, and

7 The large housing tracts built after World War II are most commonly associated with the Leavitt family. They limited the number of floor plans and built thousands of almost identical houses in subdivisions with decorative trees, open green spaces, and swimming pools to serve its residents. This community, called Levittown, was an immediate success. Jackson, Crabgrass Frontier, 231-38. For more on suburbanization see, Andrew Wiese, Places of Their Own: African American Suburbanization in the Twentieth Century (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2009); Anne Marie T. Cammarota, Pavements in the Garden: The Suburbanization of Southern New Jersey, Adjacent to the City of Philadelphia, 1769 to the Present (Madison, N.J.: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, 2001); and Mohl, Making of Urban American, 2nd ed,

8 The flood of people travelling into Florida, and the South in general, was part of a post-war demographic shift that brought thousands into the South and Southwest, a region that scholars began to call the Sunbelt. Migration of people from the North into the South; economic growth stemming from defense spending during and after World War II and highway construction; the use of air conditioning; a mild climate; and support for conservatism and the Republican Party were all part of the modernization of the South in the second half of the twentieth century. Lizabeth Cohen, A Consumers' Republic: The Politics of Mass Consumption in Postwar America (New York: Vintage Books, 2004), 121-127; Jackson, Crabgrass Frontier, 248-61; and Raymond A. Mohl and Gary R. Mormino, "The Big Change in the Sunshine State: A Social History of Modern Florida," in The New History of Florida, 431.

9 Florida served as the perfect example of a Sunbelt state. Its economy moved from an agricultural basis to one dependent on tourism, military installations, manufacturing, and the space industry. By 1960s, three fourths of Florida’s population lived in cities. It became home to migrants from states including New York and Ohio, in addition to immigrants from around the world, especially Latin America. According to Gary Mormino, “Florida was fast becoming the first southern state to become by dint of population distinctly nonsouthern.“ Mormino, Land of Sunshine, 16, 11-29, 149-177; Bruce J. Schulman, From Cotton Belt to Sunbelt: Federal Policy, Economic Development, and the Transformation of the South, 1938-1980 (Durham: Duke University Press, 1994), ix; and Richard M. Bernard and Bradley R. Rice, Sunbelt Cities : Politics and Growth Since World War II (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1983), 1-12.

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the eradication of mosquitoes made the state a comfortable place to live.10 Florida soon filled with subdivisions like those in the North built by the Leavitts. The rush of soldiers, seniors, and others hoping to bask in the Florida sun led to a real estate boom that rivaled that of the 1920s.11 Between 1949 and 1953, developers constructed 742 subdivisions in Dade County alone. Investors were gobbling up as much land as possible. A lot of this property had once been used for agriculture, and after it had all been sold, developers bought wetlands. The developers and real estate agents were successful, and Floridians bought thousands of homes in the suburbs.

In the midst of all this activity came a dramatic improvement in sewage disposal and treatment. In the first years after the war, high costs of materials restricted sewer system upgrades. Gradually, the price of supplies went down and cities used the funds advanced by the Federal Works Agency to make infrastructure improvements. Many towns had been increasing water supplies as their populations grew, but sewage disposal lagged behind and they hoped to reduce the deficit in their facilities. The

FSBH refused to approve extensions of sewage systems without treatment facilities, so some municipalities began to rely on trickling filters to treat waste, which was a step up

10 Originally used for industrial purposes, the air conditioner gradually spread to other buildings, such as movie theaters, hotels, office buildings, hospitals, and department stores. During the 1950s, many Florida hotels installed air conditioners. Most tourists usually travelled to Florida in the winter, but air conditioning allowed the state to attract visitors year round. Gradually, air conditioners also spread into the home. Window units became available in the 1950s but they were still prohibitively expensive for most families. By the 1960s, the price of air conditioning had gone down. This allowed more and more Floridians to afford the luxury of a climate-controlled house. Arsenault, "The End of the Long Hot Summer," 597-628; and Mormino, Land of Sunshine, 83, 236-41

11 Florida's population grew phenomenally, fueled in part by senior citizens. After the passage of the Social Security Act, senior citizens could then afford to retire and Florida was one of their top destinations. The Mackle brothers, who owned a large construction company in southeastern Florida, placed an advertisement in a national magazine about housing for retirees and received over 20,000 responses. Their company and many others hoped to cash in on the boom by promising future residents a home in Florida for a low down payment and low monthly installments. Carter, The Florida Experience, 29; William W. Rogers, “Fortune and Misfortune: The Paradoxical Twenties,” in The New History of Florida, 301; and Mormino, Land of Sunshine, 123-130.

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from using septic tanks.12 In 1947 alone the board approved 32 sewage improvements, costing over ten million dollars.13

The changes to sewage disposal were exciting, but one of the greatest accomplishments of the FSBH in this period had been decades in the making. A study in 1947 showed a significant decrease in the number of hookworm cases. Frederick

Eberson, a hookworm scholar, wrote that “although nearly 40% of the white children examined were found to have hookworm, in less than 4% was the worm burden of sufficient intensity to classify them in the moderate or heavy category. This means that less than 4% had clinically significant disease as compared to the 11.5% in the 1937-

1938 survey.”14 Although hookworm disease had not been eradicated, it had been substantially reduced. After working on hookworm eradication since the beginning of the twentieth century, the FSBH’s hard work had finally paid off. 15

The successful reduction in hookworm infection rates was due, in part, to suburbanization and the movement away from privies. The new houses in Florida and

12 According to Syed R. Qasim, an environmental engineer, “The trickling filter consists of a shallow bed filled with crushed stones or synthetic media. Wastewater is applied on the surface by means of a self-propelled or mechanical rotary distribution system. The organics are removed by the attached layer of microorganism (slime layer) that develops over the media. The underdrain system collects the trickled liquid that also contains the biological solids detached from the media,” Syed R. Qasim, Wastewater Treatment Plants: Planning Design, and Operation, second edition, (Boca Raton, FL: CRC Press, 1999), 418.

13 Eberson, “Eradication of Hookworm Disease in Florida,” 55.

14 Ibid., 742.

15 Reductions in hookworm were similar in other parts of the South. In the mid-1920s, the Rockefeller Foundation claimed that hookworm disease had "almost disappeared" in this country. What the group meant was that there were no longer people suffering from the heavy infestations that characterized the disease in the past, and that most sufferers had much lighter parasite burdens than in previous years. While it was possible to argue that the Rockefeller Foundation had overstated the case, it was true that hookworm had been substantially reduced and was almost eradicated in the United States by the 1960s, although there were still some reports of hookworm disease in the early 1970s. Ettling, The Germ of Laziness, 210-211; and John C. Ward and Christian Warren, eds., Silent Victories: The History and Practice of Public Health in Twentieth-Century America (New York: Oxford University Press, 2007), 174.

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the rest of the United States used sanitary means of sewage disposal, especially urban sewage treatment plants. There was, in fact, a surge in infrastructure improvements after the war. In a 1990 study of infrastructure expenditures, the authors Syed Abu

Hasnath and Lata Chatterjee note, "during the 1950 to 1968 period, construction indexes exceeded GNP growth rates."16 This meant that nationally, expenditures for public works increased from about $12,000,000 per year to almost $30,000,000 per year over the course of this period. This construction, however, was not in the suburbs being erected in the 1950s. Most of these housing developments were located in the middle of the countryside, so the goods and services that people expected to find near their homes, such as grocery stores and shopping centers, were far away. They also lacked access to municipal sewers and water lines. Instead, construction companies put in septic tanks and private wells. In the 1950s and 1960s, septic tanks in housing developments were often hastily installed and began to fail as their leach fields flooded.

According to Adam Rome, author of The Bulldozer in the Countryside: Suburban Sprawl and the Rise of American Environmentalism, “the FHA soon found that as many as one- third of the systems in suburban subdivisions [nationally] failed within the first three years.”17 With homes densely collected in suburbs, waste disposal system malfunctions caused serious pollution problems. This situation was eerily similar to the turn of the century and its waste management dilemma. As Rome notes, “now the reliance on septic tanks in fast-growing suburbs seemed to threaten a dangerous turning back of

16 They claim that part of this increase came from the need to build water and sewer systems so that communities could comply with the Water Pollution Control Act of 1948. Syed Abu Hasnath and Lata Chatterjee, "Public Construction in the United States: An Analysis of Expenditure Patterns," The Annals of Regional Science 24, no. 2 (1990): 135, 137.

17 Adam Rome, The Bulldozer in the Countryside: Suburban Sprawl and the Rise of American Environmentalism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 92.

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the clock—‘the recrudescence,’ in the words of two authorities, ‘of an old and presumably solved problem.'”18

The “problem” is that septic tanks frequently cause groundwater contamination.

If a flood occurs, the drain field may become saturated and lose its ability to properly filter microbes, thereby allowing disease-causing organisms to enter groundwater.19

Too many tanks in one area can overload and clog the soil, preventing adequate wastewater treatment. In many cases, homeowners fail to correctly maintain their septic tanks. This maintenance includes regular inspections to check for problems and cleaning undigested sludge from the bottom of the tank or removing scum that builds up on the top of the water. Too much sludge and scum can cause the tank to overflow and

18 Ibid., 96; “Septic Tanks Serious Problem,” Florida Trends in Public Health 1 (July 1968): 1; and Hardy and Pynchon, Millstones and Milestones, 167.

19 When the tank fails, the ground around it can become soggy and untreated waste can reach the surface, which causes a smelly mess that is dangerously filled with disease-causing bacteria. In addition, flies will more than likely be attracted to the exposed fecal matter, potentially spreading waste- borne infection to other people in the surrounding area. Furthermore, an inappropriately sited tank that is too close to a well can foul the drinking water source for a family unfortunate enough to find the two near one another. Pathogens in sewage have serious health implications for the public, but they are only one of many threats. According to Chester D. Rail, “septage is highly variable anaerobic slurry having large quantities of grit and grease, a highly offensive odor, the ability to foam, poor settling and dewatering abilities, high solids and organic content, and, quite often, an accumulation of heavy metals.” One component of this concoction is chemicals used in the home. Only a tenth of wastewater contains solids, but it includes both organic and inorganic components. The organic material includes feces, urine, kitchen waste, soaps, and detergents. The inorganic matter is comprised of household chemicals such as paint, cleansers, borax, chlorine, and photo chemicals. Since most people would not intentionally ingest most of the substances found in their homes for fear of endangering their health, they would be shocked to discover that they could be drinking some of these materials in the water coming from residential wells or municipal wells surrounded by septic tanks. They would probably be even more alarmed by the fact that they could also be consuming waste-borne bacteria and viruses coming from the same source. William H. Bender, Soils and Septic Tanks (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1971), 3-4 State of Illinois, Institute for Environmental Quality, Septic Tanks and the Environment by J.W. Patterson, R.A. Minear, and T.K. Nedved (Springfield, IL: Institute for Environmental Quality, 1971, 47. Chester D. Rail, Groundwater Contamination: Sources, Control, and Preventative Measures (Lancaster, PA: Technomic Publishing,1989), 25. Peter Warshall, Septic Tank Practices (New York: Anchor Books, 1979), 9-10; Environmental Protection Agency, Nutrient, Bacterial, and Virus Control as Related to Ground-Water Contamination, by James. F. McNabb, William J. Dunlap, and Jack W. Keeley (Ada, OK: Office of Research and Development, 1977), 6-8; and Gunther F. Craun, “Waterborne Disease-A Status Report Emphasizing Outbreaks in Ground-Water Systems,” Ground Water 17 (March- April 1979): 183.

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release untreated sewage into the drain field. The owner can be unaware of his or her tank’s location and build something above it or on top of the drain field. In addition, it is also possible for excessive watering of a lawn to flood the drain field.20

Floridians are at a high risk for ingesting water polluted by sewage released from septic tanks. Its geology and climate affect the way septic tanks function.21 As bad as

20 In some cases, the owner of the tank does not cause the problem. The contractor who installed the septic tank may have chosen the wrong location, placing a tank on an incline or where the soil of the drain field may have been unsuitable for sewage treatment. There may also be too little space between the tank and leach field on one hand and ground water or a well on the other. If a septic tank is located in an area with a high water table and is separated from groundwater by less than the four feet required to adequately treat effluent, then the water released from the tank may not have enough time for filtration before trickling into the rock below. The size of the septic tank may also be inappropriate for the number of people living in the home. Finally, the tank could have been improperly installed or built, causing cracking, leaky connections, or “unequal distribution of effluent through the absorption system.” Florida Department of Health, Determination of an Appropriate Onsite Sewage System Setback Distance to Seasonally Inundated Areas by Mark T. Brown et. al. (Tallahassee, F.L.: Florida Department of Health, 2000), 34; Warshall, Septic Tank Practices, 131-33; State of Illinois, Septic Tanks and the Environment , 56; Rome, The Bulldozer in the Countryside, 91, 136; Craun, “Waterborne Disease,” 187; Bender, Soils and Septic Tanks, 7; Department of Environmental Regulation, State Water Quality Management Plan: Septic Tank Nonpoint Source Element (Tallahassee, FL.: Department of Environmental Regulation, 1979), 2-3; and Florida Department of Health, Impact of On-Site Sewage Disposal Systems on Surface Ground Water Quality, by Thomas J. Bicki, et. al. (Tallahassee, F.L.: Florida Department of Health, 1984), 7.

21 Florida lies within the Atlantic and Gulf Coastal Plain, which is “characterized by a seaward- dipping sequence of mostly unconsolidated gravel, sand, silt, clay, marl, and limestone.” Florida’s bedrock is composed of twelve thousand feet of limestone and dolomite formed from the buildup of organic substances over thousands of years. The rock contains pores that are often filled with water, forming underground reservoirs called aquifers. Most of the state lies above the Floridan aquifer, which underlies most of the Panhandle, a large portion of Southern Florida, and is even under other aquifers. It provides most of the groundwater for potable use in the state. Other aquifers in Florida include the Biscayne Aquifer in the southeast, the Sand-and-Gravel Aquifer at the western part of the Panhandle, and the Shallow aquifer, which underlies most of the state. In some areas of Florida the aquifer is only a few hundred feet below the surface of the ground, which means that the water table is high. The extensive use of this groundwater can sometimes cause the redistribution of water, resulting in sinkholes.

Florida’s climate also contributes to the problems associated with septic tanks. The state is humid with high average annual rainfall, occurring mainly in June through October. The amount of precipitation in Florida can cause a lot of water to fall on a small area in a short period of time, causing flash floods that interfere with proper functioning of septic tanks. The high water table prevents water from being adequately filtered before it flows into groundwater reservoirs. Sinkholes can also easily transport sewage into the aquifer where it will pollute water. Finally, Florida’s sandy soils can allow water to pass through them too quickly, preventing the drain field from removing pathogens.

A lot of the flooding that imperils septic tank performance is the result of tropical weather systems. Florida is situated in the part of the United States that is visited yearly by hurricanes. From 1871 to 1996, over one thousand storms occurred in the North Atlantic, Caribbean Sea, and the Gulf of Mexico. Approximately 174 of these storms passed over Florida. Over half these systems had tropical

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septic tanks are for Florida, builders installed them with thousands of homes. In the late

1940s and early 1950s, material shortages drove up the cost of building materials.

Where local governments failed to build central sewage systems, home builders installed septic tanks. Replacing the privy, they became the standard means of waste disposal in Florida. As John W. Wakefield of the FSBH noted, "in the early part of the

[the housing-boom] period there was little question as to the method to be used; it was almost invariably individual septic tanks and drain fields." 22 In fact, the FHA, which had restarted its cooperative agreement with the FSBH, expected the septic tank to be the method of disposal for houses with federally backed mortgages.23

The number of septic tanks had increased so dramatically that the FSBH itself called Florida "the septic tank state."24 The use of what Wilson Sowder referred to as

storm-force winds of 39 to 73 miles per hour while the rest were strong enough to be classified as hurricanes. The storms can cause millions of dollars in property damage and loss of life. They bring high winds, torrential amounts of rainfall, and surging seawater. Typically, they will dump six to twelve inches of rain before they cross the peninsula. The flooding can have serious effects on public health because the excess water can interfere with septic tank operation. Florida Department of Health, On-Site Sewage Disposal Systems, 8, 162; Office of Research and Development, Groundwater Pollution, 130; Subcommittee on Water Resources, Committee on Earth and Environmental Sciences, Federal Coordinating Council for Science, Engineering, and Technology, Federal Ground-Water Science and Technology Programs: The Role of Science and Technology in Addressing Four Significant National Ground-Water Issues (Washington, D.C.: Subcommittee on Water Resources, 1992), 12; Department of Environmental Regulation, State Water Quality Management Plan, II-2; John M. Williams and Iver W. Duedall, Florida Hurricanes and Tropical Storms (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1997), 3- 5.Office of Research and Development, Groundwater Pollution in the Southeast (Ada, OK: Office of Research and Development, 1977), 22, 27, 3, 40; Derr, Some Kind of Paradise, 199, 202; Albert R. Veri, William W. Jenna, Jr., and Dorothy Eden Bergamaschi, Environmental Quality by Design: South Florida (Coral Gables, FL: University of Miami Press, 1975): 18; and U.S. Department of the Interior, U.S. Geological Survey Ground-Water Studies in Florida, open-file report, (Reston, VA: U.S. Geological Survey, 1988), 1; and Florida Department of Health, On-Site Sewage Disposal Systems, 159-162.

22 Wakefield, "Fringe Area Sanitation Problems in Florida,"10.

23 Ibid., and FSBH, Annual Report,1955, 193.

24 An estimate of the number of septic tanks in Florida during the 1950s and 1960s is hard to come by. The U.S. Census did collect data on sewage disposal, but it only counted houses with flush toilets versus houses without them. Almost two millions homes in Florida had flush toilets in 1960. The 1970 census expanded its statistics on sewage disposal, and began counting houses connected to a public sewer, houses with septic tanks or cesspools, and houses with other means of sewage disposal (such as chemical toilets or privies). In 1970, roughly 1.5 million households had a connection to a public

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the "horse and buggy" method of sewage disposal ultimately caused considerable headaches for property owners, real estate agents, and health authorities. Dense urban living and heavy rain, particularly in 1947 and 1948, led to wide-scale failures of septic tanks. As the rain water interfered with the drain fields, homeowners found themselves with flooded yards and sewage solids rising to the surface of the ground. The media reported complaints from concerned parents, who objected to their children coming into contact with flood waters polluted by sewage.25

The FSBH rushed in to avoid a potential disaster. Federal regulations had caused the creation of these large housing developments and the use of septic tanks in tract housing, but provided very little assistance to the state as it attempted to prevent a major outbreak of waste-borne disease. The board started by working with the

Veterans Administration (VA) and the FHA, which had a cooperative agreement with the

FSBH. The FHA would not provide funding for a home site until the board approved the builder's plan for sewage disposal. In September 1952, representatives of the FHA, the

VA, and the FSBH held a meeting in which all the parties involved agreed that, according to John Wakefield of the FSBH, "preliminary commitments would be made for subdivision development . . . until the State Board of Health had supplied the developer

sewer, while almost a million homes (almost 38%) used septic tanks. Many of the other southern states had similar rates. For example, 30% of the houses in Mississippi relied on septic tanks, and 34.6% of homes in Alabama did as well. Usage of septic tanks in other parts of the country varied, from 0.2% in Washington, D.C. to 19.8% in Arizona, and 45.6% in Vermont. “Historical Census of Housing Tables: Sewage Disposal,” http://www.census.gov/hhes/www/housing/census/historic/sewage.html, accessed 10 September 2013.

25 "Florida Is 'Septic Tank State,' Board Says," St. Petersburg Times, 13 January 1957; "Septic Tanks Outdated, Says Health Officer," St. Petersburg Times, 17 November 1964; and Wakefield, "Fringe Area Sanitation Problems in Florida," 11.

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with a preliminary engineering report stating approximately what type of sanitary facilities would be required in order to proceed with the development."26

The federal government also assisted through Public Law 660. Passed in 1956, the new rule was responsible for "making available grants to water pollution agencies for the development of suitable programs and providing grants to assist municipalities in the provision of appropriate sewage treatment facilities."27 The law did have its limits.

A group studying sanitation in Brevard County said of Public Law 660, “The priority for these grants . . . is recommended by the Florida State Board of Health on the basis of public health necessity and economic need. Funds available for the 1957-58 fiscal year have already been expended, and there is a backlog of applications from all parts of the state requesting several times the amount of funds which will normally be available for fiscal year 1958-59. It is understood that this is not true in all sections of the country and that there are actually a few sections where the entire allotments will not be used.

There is no provision in Public Law 660 for redistribution of funds . . . .”28

Instead, the FSBH had to find its own solutions to the septic tank problem. It began by issuing two memoranda that clarified its policies. The first memorandum, released in 1952, listed its criteria for the approval of land to be developed. The second memorandum, coming early the following year, spelled out the FSBH's policies on sewage disposal so that health officials at the state and local levels would all be on the

26 This requirement was necessary because percolation tests (used to determine the suitability of soil for septic tanks) came after land had been cleared and divided into lots. At this point, it was often impossible to change the developer's plans, so a preliminary report could have helped forestall such a problem. Wakefield, "Fringe Area Sanitation Problems in Florida," 11.

27 FSBH, Annual Report, 1956, 141.

28Brevard County Task Force, (n.p., March 1958), 33.

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same page. David B. Lee, of the FSBH, claimed that the regulations would "eliminate the use of septic tanks in large parts of the state."29 Now the board required subdivision to connect to a sewer system "whenever economically possible;" a homeowner with a lot less than 10,000 square feet had to connect to a sewer system; and if municipal sewage treatment became available, health authorities expected homeowners to abandon their septic tank in favor of the new system.30

On occasion, the FSBH also chose to tighten sanitation rules by making changes to the state sanitary code. In 1958, for example, an addition to the code required that new schools, hospitals, and other public buildings have their plans for sewage disposal approved before construction could begin, in much the same way that homeowners did.

The FSBH also required these facilities to have one collection point if the daily sewage output exceeded 1,200 gallons. This rule forced the businesses in question to connect to a sanitary sewer instead of using multiple septic tanks for waste disposal. In 1963, similar changes came for residential areas. The FSBH now required that homes have a minimum 750-gallon septic tank instead of a 500- gallon tank, which had been the old standard. The new code also required larger lot sizes, so that septic tanks and wells providing drinking water would be at least 100 feet apart.31

To enforce these rules, the FSBH could take offenders to court. It had the authority to issue injunctions against polluters who violated the regulations set forth in

29 Quoted in "New Policies on Subdivision Sanitary Facilities Outlined," Palm Beach Post, 12 April 1953.

30 Ibid.

31 "State Board Bolsters Sewage Regulations,” Daytona Beach Morning Journal, 5 December 1958; and Stan Moran, "More Stringent Sanitary Code Received," Sarasota Herald Tribune, 12 April 1963.

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the sanitary code and for failing to install sanitary sewers. Miami was one of the worst offenders. Many of its residents relied on improperly sited septic tanks, and the waste from homes connected to sewers ended up in the Miami River or Biscayne Bay with no treatment. The city had been trying to construct a treatment plant and voters had approved a bond issue in 1946. Unfortunately, post-war inflation meant that the amount of the bond would not be enough to cover the increased costs. By 1949, the head of the FSBH, Wilson Sowder, was so concerned about the conditions of Biscayne Bay that he considered requesting a court order forcing the city of Miami to stop dumping raw sewage into the bay and the river. The city's only recourse would have been to build a sewage treatment plant.32 There could also be serious consequences for those who failed to adhere to the law. Ormond Beach was in this position after the FSBH said it had to install a sewage treatment plant. City commissioner Leonard Rizzo warned residents that the FSBH could halt all construction in the city and condemn buildings if it did not comply. Venice Gardens faced a similar outcome when the board took local homeowners to court after they failed to abandon septic tanks and connect to the city's sanitary sewers when they became available.33

Some of the regulations concerning sewage came from outside the FSBH.

County and local-level policy makers also influenced the rules for septic tanks and sewers. For example, city commissioners in Deland approved new requirements for

32 Miami did begin the process of building sewers and a sewage treatment plant in 1952. "Bonds for Sewage Disposal a Health Insurance Policy," Miami News, 25 May 1952.

33 "Florida Ranks High in Treatment Plants," Daytona Beach Morning Journal, 24 October 1964; Phillip Wylie, "Florida: Polluted Paradise," Life magazine, March 1949, 26-37; Grace Wing, "State Can Force Miami to Build Sewer System, Health Head Says," Miami News, 19June 1949; "Officials Promise Delay in Acting on Ormond Beach Sewer Project," Daytona Beach Morning Journal, 18 November 1960; and "Health Board Asks Injunction on Septic Tanks in Venice," Sarasota Herald Tribune, 27 January 1968.

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subdivision builders, making them responsible for all capital improvements, including sewers. Near Daytona Beach, the North Peninsula Zoning Commission was considering an ordinance that would prohibit the installation of a septic tank without prior approval from the County Health Unit. In 1951, the state legislature also gave counties the authority to create their own sanitary districts, which would allow them to collect taxes and provide sewage disposal for residents in the district. The advantage of these districts was that they could extend beyond the bounds of single municipalities and include suburbs, which were usually not serviced by nearby cities. The legislature required that counties needed a referendum for approval of both the district and plans for funding.34

Several limitations reduced the effectiveness of the new state and local regulations. The first, and the most crippling, was a shortage of funds. In 1951, the

FSBH reported the federal government was reducing the amount of money it gave to

Florida for public health work. Even though the state planned to make up part of the loss, it was not enough to prevent a reduction in services in all but four of the FSBH's bureaus. This lack of funds, along with an increase in the cost of supplies after the war, seriously limited the board's activities. There was also very little improvement over time.

In 1958, the FSBH still complained that it needed more money and that the increasing population stressed its already overextended staff. The county health boards were in a similar position. Part of the funds for their operating budgets came from the FSBH, which meant that in lean times county health organizations received a lot less help from

34 "Rules for Developers Approved," Daytona Beach Sunday News-Journal, 3 March 1959; "Septic Tank Ordinance Considered by Zoners," Daytona Beach Sunday News-Journal, 18 September 1957; John T. Bills, "How the Press Looks at the Subdivision Problem," in “Community planning and development," 8; and Lowell Brandle, "Septic Tank Problems Call for Courage, Not Money," St. Petersburg Times, 31 January 1959.

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the state. To make matters worse, the FSBH said that by 1962 many county health departments had "gradually depleted their financial reserve over the past several years and at the same time have either reached or are very near the maximum of the allowable millage for their operations."35

The limited budgets of the FSBH and the county health departments resulted in severe personnel shortages. The FSBH could not afford to pay competitive wages, so it had trouble attracting and retaining trained public health workers. The board's staff was stretched thin, with most of the employees in the Bureau of Sanitary Engineering devoted to septic tank inspections for the VA and the FHA. This was a time-consuming process that became a bigger part of the bureau's duties as the number of subdivisions increased. The lack of trained engineers was particularly noticeable in the area of sewage treatment plants. In 1958, fewer than half of the municipal treatment plants had submitted monthly operating reports and the only solution was more personnel to help enforce the rules.36 The FSBH had to reduce the number of septic tanks inspected by its engineers. Instead, county health departments began to conduct the surveys. This did not solve the problem; county health departments also had a difficult time retaining engineers. Pinellas County, for example, had only enough personnel to inspect septic tanks in homes with FHA financing. Since many developers began to find other means to finance their projects, this meant that thousands of septic tanks went uninspected and unapproved by health authorities. Pinellas was not alone. Construction of homes

35 FSBH, Annual Report, 1962, 24; FSBH, Annual Report, 1953, 2; and FSBH, Annual Report, 1958, 153.

36 FSBH, Annual Report, 1958, 153, 160; and FSBH, Annual Report, 1952, 172.

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without federal support was increasing statewide, so the number of uninspected septic tanks had increased everywhere.37

Adding to the FSBH's woes were municipal and county officials who balked at state sanitary regulations. By 1968, only two counties, Brevard and Pinellas, were strictly enforcing the septic tank rules from the FSBH. Obeying these rules came at a cost: in Pinellas, stringent septic tank permitting meant that the county lost over

$600,000 in tax revenue. Florida law dictated that vacant lots had to have either a septic tank or a sewer connection. Without some form of sewage disposal, the property could not be used and the county only required that the owner pay a $100 assessment rather than taxes based on the full assessed value. In other words, owners of vacant lots were requesting percolation tests on their property, knowing that they would probably not be issued a permit, as a way to avoid paying taxes.38

When local officials tried to enforce the rules, they faced opposition from the building trades. In October 1959, the Polk County Sanitation Department decided to require a permit for the construction or installation of a septic tank, as required by

Florida law. A group calling itself the Citizens and Builders Committee complained about the permits and other requirements, including one that required a septic tank be sited on land that had the water table four feet below the surface of the ground at the wettest time of the year and the health department's insistence on only one septic tank per acre for subdivisions. In addition, Burney Cowden, the head of the Polk County

Sanitation Department, would not relax the rules unless the county created a sanitary

37 FSBH, Annual Report, 1958, 153, 160; FSBH, Annual Report, 1952, 172; FSBH, Annual Report, 1963, 24; and John Perry, "Officials Say County Health 'Endangered," St. Petersburg Times, 12 July 1954.

38 Joseph Castello, "Septic Tank Law Hurting Tax Roles," St. Petersburg Times, 7 March 1968.

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district and moved toward the construction of sewage treatment plants. The group argued that the enforcement of the rules was causing some builders to go out of business, which, they claimed, was beginning to produce economic disaster in Polk

County.39

Builders in other parts of the state had a similar reaction. The Home Builders of

Sarasota went to their county commissioners and complained about regulations put in place by the local health department. Its members seemed to be particularly concerned about the new minimum size of septic tanks, which had increased from 500 gallons to

750 as part of changes to the state sanitary code. Health department representatives told the commissioners that these were statewide rules and there was little they could do to change them. The FSBH also had no plans to alter the regulations. It refused to relax the rules, even after the Florida Homebuilders Association suggested that they caused "a hardship on the public." The board disagreed. These policies had already been in effect for several months while the FSBH revised the new sanitary code and made it ready for publication. Anyone who might have been affected by the change had already been notified. Furthermore, Sam Johnson, who represented West Coast Shell, which cast concrete septic tanks, claimed that the 500-galllon tank was going out of favor as homes became larger and used more water.40

39 The dire economic consequences predicted by the Citizens and Builders Committee did not come to pass. In fact, in 1973, Lee Kerner, a regional engineer with the State Department of Pollution Control claimed that development was destroying the "fragile ecological balance" of Polk County. In fact, fearing the consequences from sewage pollution, the Polk County Commission encouraged the proliferation of sewage treatment plants and discouraged the installation of septic tanks. It also created the Polk County Water and Sewer Department, which acquired three water systems and two sewage treatment plants from private companies. "Attention--Citizens of Polk County," Lakeland Ledger, 20 November 1959; and "Combating Polk Pollution," Lakeland Ledger, 22 May 1973.

40 "Septic Tank Rules Rapped by Builders," Sarasota Journal, 25 August 1965; "Septic Tank Rules Stay, State Says," Miami News, 28 March 1966; and Stan Moran, "More Stringent State Sanitary Code Received," Sarasota-Herald Tribune, 12 April 1963.

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Developers objected just as strenuously to the new regulations. They worried that the rules would affect their profits and tried to skirt the FSBH any way they could.

Real estate agents in Manatee County complained about the new parameters passed by the County Commission in 1956, which aimed to limit the spread of septic tanks by requiring that all “subdivisions would need their own sewage disposal installations when a sewage line was not available.”41 They claimed that such a rule would restrict growth within the county. In Volusia County, Firstamerica Development Corporation, which sold land parcels by mail, threatened to sue members of the county’s zoning board.

The board opposed the company’s plans for an area called University Heights after geologists working for the state said that drainage in the development would negatively affect the county’s water supply. The board then decided to zone the land as a watershed, which is when the threats began. All the members of the zoning board resigned when three county commissioners refused to defend them against

Firstamerica’s lawsuit, claiming that the zoning board was overstepping its authority.

Two of these commissioners and Firstamerica’s vice president tried to influence the county health director after the chief sanitarian refused to allow the installation of septic tanks in University Heights. Developers also seemed to be succeeding against the

FSBH, forcing the state to overturn a 1965 ban on septic tanks.42

Outside of the septic tank and real estate businesses, residents had their own reservations about changes in municipal sanitation for a number of different reasons. In

1960, the city commission in Belleview was eager to hold an election so that its

41 “Manatee Board Passes New Sanitary Regulations,” St. Petersburg Times, 24 April 1956.

42 “Volusia Featured in Syndicated Land Expose,” Daytona Beach Morning Journal, 17 August 1963; and “Septic-Tank Ban May Fail,” Palm Beach Post, 1 November 1971.

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residents would hopefully approve the construction of a new sewer system financed through revenue certificates. Opposition came from Leonard Bingham, the town’s former mayor, who believed that septic tanks were not a health hazard and that many citizens could not afford the $36 yearly fee necessary to support the system. In

Lakeland, city commissioners planned a $4,000,000 expansion of its sewers. Before they could proceed, they needed to work out objections from residents—including the owners of apartments who did not want to pay fees when their units were unoccupied during the summer months. Long Key faced a lawsuit before a voter referendum to approve a $2.1 million dollar sewer system. The nearby city of Pasadena and “private individuals” opposed the plan because “the proposed offshore site infringed on rights of

South Pasadena," according to the lawyer representing the city.43

Convincing city officials, businesses, and citizens of the need of sewers and sewage treatment plants was a lengthy and complicated process. It was also more difficult in Florida's larger, older cities. Jacksonville serves as a prime example. The lack of a sanitary way to dispose of sewage caused pollution of the St. Johns River and affected the health of local residents. The FSBH offered several recommendations, including hiring an engineering firm to plan improvement’s to the city’s sewage treatment facilities. After receiving advice from Dr. Abel Wolman and the firm of Metcalf

43 In each of these cases, the cities overcame the opposition and their plans went forward. Belleview received a $280,000 loan from the Community Facilities Administration and a Federal Water Pollution Control Grant of $39,000. Lakeland began its sewer expansion in 1961, and the citizens of Long Key approved the construction of a sewer system in December of 1955. Long Key went on to complete a sewage treatment plant in 1966. “Proposed Sewage Disposal System Stirs Up Heavy Interest in Town of Belleview,” Ocala Star-Banner, 28 July 1960; "Loan is Approved for Belleview Sewage Plant," Ocala Star-Banner, 27 March 1962; “Engineers Defend City Sewage Disposal Plans,” Lakeland Ledger, 18 December 1959; "Pumping Station Rises," Lakeland Ledger, 21 August 1961; “McGarry Replies to Sewer Project Attack Threat,” St. Petersburg Times, 4 December 1955; "Long Key Sewer Wins Approval," St. Petersburg Times, 14 December 1955; and “Long Key’s Treatment Plant’s Work Okayed,” Evening Independent, 9 August 1966.

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and Eddy, the city decided on a course of action. City leaders ran into problems with the FSBH, however, which did not agree with the city’s plans and threatened legal action. Eventually, after extensive debate, municipal authorities and the FSBH arrived at a plan for Jacksonville that balanced the need to protect health with the need to contain cost of major infrastructure improvements.

During World War II, the city's population grew so rapidly that sewage disposal could not keep up with the pace and public health leaders began to worry about the condition of the St. Johns River. Jacksonville had no treatment plants and its sewers deposited raw sewage directly into the water. There were reports of sewage solids collecting along the banks of the river and other small streams running through the city.

In 1945, city leaders received assistance from the FSBH, the United States Geological

Survey (USGS), and the PHS to study pollution levels in the St. Johns. By the time sanitary engineers had finished their survey in 1946, they had collected hundreds of samples of river water from 22 sampling stations. According to Walter C. Daniel, the city engineer for Jacksonville, "the results of the survey indicate that the main stream of the river is safe from the standpoint of supporting fish life and that sewage treatment will not be required until there is a demand to bring the waters of the river up to bathing beach standards."44 Although the main channel was not grossly polluted, some of its tributaries did have high coliform counts. Some samples from these areas showed a

44 Office of the City Engineer, City of Jacksonville, "Supplementary Report: Sanitary Sewers, Storm Drains Program for 1952," Box 6.19, Series 6 Projects, MS 105, Abel Wolman Papers, Special Collections, Milton S. Eisenhower Library, John Hopkins University.

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coliform most probable number of over 1 million per 100mL of water, which greatly exceeded the 1000 per 100 mL recommended for bathing waters.45

Pollution in the St. Johns was part of a greater problem with sewage disposal in

Jacksonville. The city had not made any major improvements to its sewage and storm water drainage systems since the 1920s. The WPA built 125 miles of sewers and commissioners approved small additions when there was money in the budget, but none of these changes could accommodate the growth of Jacksonville's population. By the 1950s, there were large sections of the city with no sewers and septic tanks failed regularly. Allendale, a subdivision in northern Jacksonville was in particularly bad condition. Many of the community's septic tanks failed and effluent flowed into drainage ditches bordering homes. Children played in the polluted water and residents complained about the smell of the ditch in the summertime. Homeowners in another subdivision outside the city, Roosevelt Gardens No. 2, were trying to convince their neighbors to sign a petition in favor of the creation of a sanitary district in the hopes that the county would then have to install sewers. Malfunctioning septic tanks flooded yards and created fly breeding grounds. Parents also reported that their children suffered from conditions that included impetigo and pin worms.46

To protect both the river and the citizens of Jacksonville, the FSBH made several recommendations. First and foremost, the board said that the city needed to extend

45 Ibid., 2, 4; and "Final Report on Sewers to the City Commission of the City of Jacksonville, Florida From the Citizens Advisory Group on Sewers and Drainage Facilities, September 6, 1955, 1, Wolman Papers; and H. W. Streeter to David B. Lee, 15 December 1947, Wolman Papers.

46 Office of the City Engineer, City of Jacksonville, "Estimates--Reports, Sanitary Sewers-Storm Drains Program 1952," 1, Wolman Papers; Douglas Danford, "State Health Lab Finds Allandale Polluted by Septic Tank Overflow," Jacksonville Journal, 19 March 1952; and Douglas Danford, "Roosevelt Garden No. 1 Takes New Action for Sanitary District," Jacksonville Journal, 20 March 1952.

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centralized sanitation into unsewered areas and at least provide preliminary treatment of sewage before releasing in into the St. Johns. The FSBH also wanted the city to hire an engineering firm to plan this system. In addition, the city commission needed to consider extending sewers to the areas outside the city limits, which were growing rapidly and had no municipal services. Finally, the board suggested that authorities post warnings near the river to warn residents that the water was not suitable for recreation or swimming. Officials in Jacksonville responded by hiring Dr. Abel Wolman, a nationally recognized sanitary engineer employed by the city of Baltimore, and by creating a citizens advisory group to study the issue.47

The situation became more complicated after Wolman's report. He agreed with the FSBH that Jacksonville would eventually need sewage treatment plants, but he thought they would not be necessary for several years. Instead, as a lower-cost option, the city could have built sewers in areas that lacked them. Since most of the outfalls extended less than three hundred feet into the St. Johns, he recommended that the city construct several outfalls that would direct waste into the river's current to help dilute and purify the sewage. He also wanted city engineers to study the tributaries of the St.

Johns flowing through Jacksonville, which were, unlike the main channel of the river, heavily polluted. He suggested that this pollution, which came from both sewage and industrial sources, be collected and discharged through interceptors and into the St.

Johns along with the rest of the city's sewage. In addition, Wolman recommended that the city should begin searching for appropriate sewage treatment plant sites and secure the land so that it would be ready to begin construction when economically feasible.

47 W. E. Sheddan, "The Jacksonville Situation," address at the 2nd annual Public Health Engineering Conference, Gainesville, FL, 18 November 1949, Wolman papers.

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Finally, he said that Jacksonville and Duvall County should coordinate their efforts. The population in the areas outside Jacksonville was growing, and he thought that "as this growth occurs the problems of the City will gradually merge with those of the metropolitan area."48

As Wolman finished his report, the Citizens Advisory Committee had serious decisions to make about sewage in Jacksonville. Constructing a sewage treatment plant would have been very costly, especially since the St. Johns River was mostly a commercial waterway. The group hesitated to commit making the river's water clean enough to reach bathing beach standards. The committee had approached the Florida

Yacht Club of Jacksonville and the Jacksonville Recreation Department, which both said that collection and treatment of waste would not change their members' use of the

St. Johns. In addition, the Army Corps of Engineers and the Jacksonville Fish

Company noted that there had not been a commercial shellfish industry in the St. Johns

River for many years.49

The committee did decide that extending sewers inside the city and the heavily developed areas just outside its borders was vitally necessary. It also wanted to avoid having the expansion occur in the piecemeal fashion that had defined sewer construction in previous years. In addition, committee members wanted to plan for future improvements, including sewage treatment plants, so as to avoid wasting money on disjointed projects that would have to be redone when it was time for a new major

48 Abel Wolman and John C. Geyer, "Report on Sewerage and Sewage Disposal Problems of Jacksonville, FL," May 1953, 26-31, Wolman papers.

49 Downing Nightingale to E. T. Owens, 17 April 1953, George O. Robinson to Walter G. Daniel, 21 April 1953, Harold A. Martin to Walter Daniel, 20 April 1953, and A.L. McKnight to Walter G. Daniel, 21 April 1953, Wolman Papers.

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expansion. To this end, the city agreed to hire Metcalf and Eddy, a nationally recognized engineering firm, to complete a sewage master plan for Jacksonville. It recommended a multi-step approach; the first step was to construct sewers in the unsewered parts of the city; build an interceptor in the southern part of town that would eliminate several outfalls in to the St. Johns; purchase land for a primary treatment facility to be built in the future and begin construction on the site of "plants needed to break up gross sewage solids by use of aerated grit chambers and fine screens;" and to construct a new outfall that would direct this broken up sewage into the main channel of the river.50 This phase would have cost an estimated $20,460,000. The second and third stages, to be completed in the following ten to twenty-five years, involved building interceptor trunk sewer lines that would stop the worst of the "visible fouling" of the river and collect all the city's sewage in one place. The fourth and last stage, which it estimated to cost over $60,000,000 and would probably not happen for another twenty- five years, was the extension of sewers to areas outside of Jacksonville and the construction of a sewage treatment facility.51

The city decided to implement the first stage of the plan, extending sewers within

Jacksonville and building the new outfall, which it wanted to finance through a revenue bond that would be covered by an increase in charges for use of the sewer system.

The FSBH, however, did not support this course of action. First, it disagreed with

Metcalf and Eddy's timeline, arguing that the city could not wait twenty-five years to extend sewers to suburban areas, especially since the population was growing so

50 "Final Report on Sewers to the City Commission from the Citizens Advisory Group on Sewers and Drainage," 6 September 1955," 5, Wolman Papers.

51 Ibid., 2-8.

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rapidly that an estimated 100,000 people outside the city needed sewer service.

Second, the board also thought twenty-five years was too long to wait for a sewage treatment plant, and that its policy in the previous fifteen years had been to reject changes or additions to sewer systems without including sewage treatment. Third, the

FSBH thought that Jacksonville's assessment of recreational activities on the St. Johns

River was greater than the city reported. Wilson T. Sowder, the state health officer, said, "a brief visit to Trout River, the Arlington River or the St. Johns River on any given week-end afternoon during the summer months will show that not only are these tributaries being used for recreational purposes, but that such water sports as swimming and water-skiing are very rapidly increasing."52 Fourth, the board opposed the city's location for a sewage outfall, saying it would pollute the Trout and Arlington rivers.53

The FSBH was prepared to move against the city of Jacksonville if it went forward with the proposal by Metcalf and Eddy. Sowder explained that "the State Board of Health intends to resist by all the legal means available any attempt to materially increase the presently sewered area of Jacksonville without the approval of this office, and such approval will only be give if it is coupled with adequate treatment of the sewage." 54 The FSBH did not resort to legal action, however. The city commission and the FSBH settled on a compromise. Jacksonville's leaders agreed to include primary treatment of sewage in its initial plans for all areas connected to the new sewers. The neighborhoods already sewered would continue discharging waste into

52 Wilson Sowder to mayor, members of city commission, and members of city council, City of Jacksonville, 1 November 1955, 2, Wolman Papers.

53 Ibid., 5.

54 Ibid.

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the river. During the second and third phases of its plan, the city would construct interceptor sewers to direct all sewage to the treatment plant, which it would expand so that it could handle all of the city's waste and that of the nearby suburbs.55

The installation of Jacksonville’s sewage treatment facilities was many years in the making. The process of encouraging municipal leaders to make the necessary improvements to wastewater systems was a difficult task. In addition to financial and health-based considerations, the decision to build sewers and sewage treatment plants in a particular section of town was based on race. Most cities were more willing to pay for municipal improvements in wealthy suburbs and ignored poor, African American neighborhoods with more immediate sanitary problems. For example, in the late 1940s, the Coconut Grove section of Miami had a so-called slum, inhabited by African

Americas, which relied on privies sewage disposal, only to have them foul drinking wells.56 In 1959, an African American community outside the city limits of the town of

Safety Harbor faced an outbreak of dysentery after unsanitary privies contaminated private wells. In response, the city had to truck in fresh water to the affected neighborhood. African Americans in Kissimmee begged the city to provide capital improvements, including the construction of a sewage lift station. The city refused, saying that septic tanks were sufficient to suit their needs.57

55 FSBH, Annual Report, 1955, 183.

56 Miami did clean up Coconut Grove, but only through the urging of Mrs. Vladimir Virrick, the wife of a local architect, who started a crusade to ameliorate the poor condition of the slums. Helen Muir, Miami U.S.A., expanded edition (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2000), 228-31.

57 “Adequate Water Assured Negroes,” St. Petersburg Times, 22 February 1959; “Discrimination Leaves Mark on History Kissimmee’s Past Includes Laws that Kept Black, White Residents Apart,” Orland Sun Sentinel, 5 October 1986.

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Most African Americans lost out to their more affluent, white counterparts when municipal leaders decided where to offer sewage treatment services. They often lost a second time when those same city officials decided to place sewage treatment plants in their neighborhoods. Brooksville, a small town in Hernando County, was notorious for its poor treatment of African Americans. In the 1920s, Hernando had more lynchings per capita than any other county in the country. Although the lynchings declined, racism remained. In 1948, the city passed a zoning law requiring that neighborhoods be racially segregated, and in 1958, it decided to build a sewage treatment plant in the black section of town, next to the city’s only school for African American children. Miami made a similar choice. In 1945, the city allowed African Americans to use a stretch of the beach along Virginia Key for bathing. Before this time, African Americans were prohibited from swimming at other access points around Biscayne Bay. The black beach could only be reached by boat through dangerous currents, but it became a source of pride for African Americans in Miami. The city eventually built a carousel and a bathing house on the site, and it became a popular gathering place for families. As popular as the beach was, it had declined by the late 1960s. Desegregation and a sewage treatment plant constructed on Virginia Key caused people to go elsewhere.58

Some of the worst conditions existed outside of cities. Migrant workers suffered as much, or more, than African Americans in urban areas. Farmers hired thousands of

African Americans to harvest crops, paid them little, and if employers provided housing, it was little more than crowed shacks with no plumbing or toilet facilities. These

58 Gregory Bush, “Politicized memories in the Struggle for Miami’s Virginia Key Beach,” in To Love the Wind and the Rain: African Americans and Environmental History, (Pittsburg, PA: University of Pittsburg Press, 2006), 177-80; and Jay Weaver, “Remaking History—Push Is On For Civil Rights Park and Museum on Virginia Key,” Sun-Sentinel, 30 March 1999.

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conditions came to light in 1958, when a freeze left one thousand workers with no jobs.

They had no food or shelter, and relief organizations rushed in to feed starving families.

In response, Governor LeRoy Collins toured the area and created a fact-finding committee to recommend legislation that would improve housing for migrant workers.

He legislature passed a bill allowing the FSBH to license workers’ camps and conduct inspections, but it had little effect. In 1961, Dale Wright, a journalist for the New York

World Telegraph and Sun, spent six months working along migrant agricultural laborers as they moved from Florida to New York. The camp that he stayed in had no toilet or kitchen facilities, and the only source of water was an irrigation pump for the tomatoes that he and his fellow workers had come to pick. There were also no toilets on the farm, so workers relieved themselves in the fields.59

African Americans obviously, in both urban areas, faced discrimination from state and local leaders in the provision of sanitary sewage disposal facilities for black communities. This disparity was part of a larger problem of improving sanitation throughout the state of Florida. The FSBH had a hard time convincing cities to convert from septic tanks to municipal sewage systems. Its advocacy bore fruit in the growing number of cities building sewers and treatment plants, funded by bond issues and federal monies provided through legislative acts such as Public Law 660.60 Between

59 Robert Delaney, “ 2 Top Officials into Immokalee: Migrants’ Plight to Get Action,” Miami News, 30 January 1958; Frank Eidge, Jr., “Economic Status of Migrant Worker Suffers Via Freeze,” Times- News, 14 January 1958; Grubbs, "The Story of Florida's Migrant Farm Workers," 120; and Dale Wright, “America’s Forgotten People,” Negro Digest, May 1962, 88-96.

60 Passed in 1956, Public Law 660 was responsible for "making available grants to water pollution agencies for the development of suitable programs and providing grants to assist municipalities in the provision of appropriate sewage treatment facilities." The law did have its limits. A group studying sanitation in Brevard County said of Public Law 660, “The priority for these grants. . . . is recommended by the Florida State Board of Health on the basis of public health necessity and economic need. Funds available for the 1957-58 fiscal year have already been expended, and there is a backlog of applications from all parts of the state requesting several times the amount of funds which will normally be available

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1946 and 1954, Florida municipalities devoted $95,000,000 to sewage treatment. From

1954 through 1963 this amount increased to $446,000,000, and in 1958, 66.2% of the state's population lived in homes served by a sewage treatment plant. The state's reputation also improved on the national stage when Look magazine awarded Pinellas

County with its All-American City Award in 1967 for having 90% of its population sewered.61

Pinellas County’s recognition at the national level for its extension of sewers was a major accomplishment that highlighted Florida’s move away from the septic tank. In fact, this process had been one of the major public health issues in the decades immediately following World War II. As Florida had become a Sunbelt state, it faced serious growing pains. The way communities popped up on land that had been inundated with water or plowed under for crops led to the increased use of the septic tank. What had once been a key to controlling the spread of waste-borne illnesses became a major source of contamination, and the failure of the septic tank showed the state's need for expensive wastewater infrastructure. The FSBH took a two-pronged approach to the sewage disposal problem. First, it discouraged the use of septic tanks through new regulations. Second, the board encouraged and assisted cities with the construction of new sewers and sewage treatment plants. This was by no means an easy process. Many Floridians did not understand the importance of switching from for fiscal year 1958-59. It is understood that this is not true in all sections of the country and that there are actually a few sections where the entire allotments will not be used. There is no provision in Public Law 660 for redistribution of funds. . . .” FSBH, Annual Report, 1956, 141; and Brevard County Task Force, 33.

61 Although the All-American City Award normally went to an individual city, Look did choose the entire county for the honor. According the St. Petersburg Times, “it is only the sixth time in the 18 years that the awards have been given that a county has won.” "Health Board Reports Progress in Water Pollution Problem," Ocala Star-Banner, 31 July 1959; and "Sanitary Sewers Key to Honor," St. Petersburg Times, 23 March 1967.

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septic tanks to a municipal sewage disposal system. Some communities ignored the

FSBH's rules and others, like Jacksonville, had a difficult time planning not only for current necessities but also for future growth. Florida’s municipal leaders also chose to extend sewers into African American neighborhoods, further complicating a move toward more sanitary forms of sewage disposal. Nevertheless, many urban areas followed the FSBH's lead and spent millions of dollars on infrastructure upgrades that eliminated some of the hazards associated with sewage disposal. The FSBH’s work was far from over, however. Its efforts to improve sewage disposal continued into through the end of the century, and gained a new urgency with the dawning of the environmental movement

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CHAPTER 5 SEWAGE, WATER, AND THE ENVIRONMENT

After World War II, economic growth ushered in a period of prosperity that was almost unprecedented in the history of the United States. Millions of Americans got married, started families, and moved to the suburbs, where they enjoyed a comfortable existence that they had earned after years of war-time sacrifice. This utopian vision was not as perfect as most people wanted to believe; suburban living had a definite downside aptly demonstrated by the malfunctioning septic tanks in back-yards. Once scientists and engineers realized the seriousness of the septic tank problem, the risks to health became obvious. The negative aspects of suburban communities extended beyond the threat of waste-borne disease, however. This way of life was devastating to the environment as well.

A burgeoning environmental movement growing out of the publicity surrounding

Rachel Carson's 1962 book Silent Spring and popularized by the Earth Day protests of

1970 led to a spate of environmental protection laws at both the state and federal levels.

For Florida, water, or rather its loss to pollution, drought, and increased water usage by a growing population, drove the state to find ways to protect this diminishing resource.

Preventing septic-tank pollution became an important part of the efforts to conserve water, and it had made significant advances. In spite of the efforts of health authorities to curtail their use, Florida still had thousands of septic tanks and the threat of waste- borne epidemics still existed, as evidenced by disease outbreaks in several Florida communities. In response, scientists studied sewage pollution and the legislature provided funds for the construction of municipal sewage treatment facilities. Sewage itself also became a resource, as scientists began to experiment with biosolids and

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reclaimed water. Furthermore, controlling pollution from sewage gained urgency as sewage threatened two major industries in Florida: tourism and shellfish cultivation.

Some communities, like Cedar Key, embraced model regulations that prevented shoreline sewage pollution, and used them to protect their shellfish-cultivation areas.

Other towns, such as Suwanee, ran afoul of state authorities and threatened the nearby coastal environment. Thus, by the end of the century, Florida’s environment and people still suffered as a result of sewage pollution, but scientists, health officials, and legislators continued to search for ways to protect health, resources, and the industries that fueled the economy.

As suburbanization increased in the 1950s and 1960s, the destructive and unsustainable nature of housing development slowly came to light. Many hallmarks of suburban living contributed to the decline of the environment. The automobile, which was at the heart of post-war life, was one of the worst offenders. As incomes increased, more families purchased cars. The number of vehicles on the road quadrupled between

1946 and 1955, and by the end of the decade, two-thirds of American families owned an automobile. All of these cars contributed to an alarming decline in air quality.1

Solid waste presented its own challenges. After World War II, Americans increased their consumption of goods, which also caused an increase of materials entering the waste stream. Starting in the 1920s, manufacturers created more products intended to be used once and then discarded, and marketed these wares as being more sanitary and more convenient. Packaging made of plastic, aluminum, and paper

1 James J. Flink, "Three Stages of American Automobile Consciousness," American Quarterly, 24, no. 4 (October 1972): 469.

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became important in the 1940s with the rise of supermarkets and other self-service industries. By 1965, only 7% of municipal waste was being recycled. Most of it ended up in sanitary landfills or incinerators, raising questions about both air and land pollution. In addition, as suburbs grew and the population moved away from city centers, the costs for collection and transportation of solid waste increased.

Furthermore, municipal authorities had trouble finding locations for landfills as developers built more subdivisions on the fringes of cities. Most important, there was almost no state or federal oversight of refuse collection and disposal.2

The concern over pollution of land and air also extended to water, and yet again the septic tank was one of the main offenders. In the 1950s, homeowners in suburbs across the country began to report the presence of foul odors and tastes from their drinking water; just as alarming was the appearance of suds coming from their taps.

Public health authorities found that washing machines emptied into septic tanks and the effluent leaving the tanks carried synthetic detergents, which then travelled into ground water and contaminated household wells. According to Adam Rome, who studied the effect of suburban growth on the environment, this problem was widespread. He explained that "in a review of 30 studies from 13 states, the director of water conservation studies at the U.S. Public Health Service reported that detergents had shown up in 37 percent of the drinking wells tested for contaminants. In some divisions,

2 Melosi, The Sanitary City, 176-77, 190-94; and Garrick E. Louis, "A Historical Context of Municipal Solid Waste Management in the United States," Waste Management and Research, 22 (2004): 317.

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the figure was almost 100 percent."3 Detergents also drained into surface waters, creating large concentrations of suds in rivers, streams, and lakes.4

At this point, Congress started enacting legislation to protect the environment. In

January of 1970, several months before Earth Day, President Nixon signed the National

Environmental Policy Act. Its supporters were concerned about "leisure time consumptive uses of Nature" as the middle class began to engage in more activities out-of-doors. After the bill's passage, the tone of legislative debate shifted course.

Several environmental catastrophes, such as the Cuyohoga River in Ohio catching fire, moved Congress away from a purely conservationist approach to one based on controlling pollution. As a result, Congress signed into law several bills designed to reduce pollution, including 1970's Clean Air Act, 1972's Water Pollution Control Act

Amendments (now known as the Clean Water Act), 1972’s Resource and Recovery Act,

1974’s Safe Drinking Water Act, and 1976's Resources Conservation and Recovery

Act.5 The federal government also needed an organization to enforce its new environmental policies. These duties had been spread between several different

3 Rome, Bulldozer in the Countryside, 106.

4 Ibid., 105-107.

5 The Safe Drinking Water Act (SWDA) was the first major bill to establish drinking water regulations. It was designed to foster cooperation between the states, local utilities, and the Environmental Protection Agency, which was created to help regulate pollution control programs. The Resource Conservation and Recovery Act's primary measure allowed the federal government to pull financial support from any projects that contaminated aquifers and failed to stop the pollution. It also established the Primary Drinking Water Regulations, designed to control pollution from public supply sites. Joseph A. Contruvo, “Implementation of the Safe Drinking Water Act,” in Drinking Water Quality Enhancement Through Source Protection, Robert B. Pojasek, ed., (Ann Arbor, MI: Ann Arbor Science Publishers, 1977): 5-7; U. S. Geological Survey, Land Application of Domestic Wastewater in Florida— Impact on Ground-Water Quality by Bernard J. Franks (Tallahassee, FL: U. S. Geological Survey, 1981): 4.

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agencies until December of 1970, when the Nixon administration consolidated pollution control under the aegis of the new Environmental Protection Agency.6

The environmental movement had a huge impact in Florida and became an integral part of its political landscape at this time. For years developers had altered the environment with little concern for the consequences. They extolled the virtues of

Florida’s natural resources while altering its landscape to attract more and more people.

For the first time, boosterism’s shortcomings were truly coming to light. According to the late water scholar Nelson Blake, “For 150 years progress had been measured in the number of new residents, tourists, railroads . . . Whatever ‘developed’ the state was good; whatever hindered development was bad. Then development became suspect.”7

Unrestrained growth had destroyed wetlands; wildlife; ecosystems, particularly in lakes and bays; and in general affected the quality of life in Florida. The problems were most severe in the southern part of the state, where most of the population growth had taken place.8

Development’s shortcomings became visible among the one resource that was most abundant: water. Florida had always had more than enough water. In fact,

6 Robert Gottlieb, Forcing the Spring: The Transformation of the American Environmental Movement (Washington, D.C.: Island Press, 1993), 124-33. The Safe Drinking Water Act (SWDA) was the first major bill to establish drinking water regulations. It was designed to foster cooperation between the states, local utilities, and the Environmental Protection Agency, which was created to help regulate pollution control programs.

7 Blake, Land Into Water, 196.

8 David R. Colburn and Lance deHaven-Smith, Government in the Sunshine State: Florida Since Statehood (Gainesville: University Press of Gainesville, 1999), 126-27. For more on Florida’s environmental history see Jack E. Davis and Raymond Arsenault, Paradise Lost?: The Environmental History Of Florida (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2005); Howard T. Odum, Elisabeth C. Odum, and Mark T. Brown, Environment and Society in Florida (Boca Raton: Lewis Publishers, 1998); Lance deHaven-Smith, Environmental Concern in Florida and the Nation (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1991); and Blake, Land into Water.

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removing surplus water had been one of the state’s greatest challenges. Over time, however, water use had increased. At the beginning of the century, people only needed about thirty gallons of water per day. As time went on, they started to use dishwashers, washing machines, and swimming pools, which all require large amounts of water.

They also started bathing more, they washed their cars, and they flushed gallons of water down the toilet. By 1963, average water use, according to the State Board of

Health, had increased to about one hundred gallons per day. Pollution further reduced the amount of fresh water available for consumption. With a population of 4,951,560 in

1960, Florida started to seriously deplete its aquifers.9

The Florida legislature attempted to protect the state’s water. In 1957, it passed the Water Resources Law, which created the Department of Water Resources, to be overseen by the State Board of Conservation. One of its main purposes was to allow the State Board of Conservation to "authorize local government units to store, divert, and use surface and underground waters."10 In 1965, a committee on water resources recommended that the legislature ban petroleum-based detergents that caused foam to form on the surface of lakes, bays, and streams. These detergents had been banned in other parts of the country, but soap companies had found an unrestricted market for them in Florida. The legislature voted against the bill. In 1967, the legislature created a five-member board responsible for setting water quality standards. If a city was not

9 Nelson, Land into Water, 223; “A Lurking Danger,” Florida Health Notes, 11; and T. Stanton Dietrich, The Urbanization of Florida's Population: An Historical Perspective of County Growth, 1830-1970 (Gainesville, FL : Bureau of Economic and Business Research, University of Florida, 1978), 11.

10 FSBH, Annual Report, 1957, 159.

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doing enough to bring sewage treatment to certain levels, the board held the power to limit or prevent any more hookups to the wastewater system.11

At this point, state government in Florida underwent a radical change and the environmental movement greatly benefitted. Legislators from rural north Florida, who had dominated politics for years, lost control of the senate in 1967.12 Florida also adopted a new constitution in 1968, and one of its provisions limited the executive branch to twenty-five departments.13 The FSBH had been responsible for tracking pollution for decades through its department of sanitary engineering. This changed in

1969 when the legislature did away with the FSBH after eighty years of existence and replaced it with a new Department of Health under the Department of Health and

Rehabilitative Services. It also created the Department of Air and Water Pollution

Control "which assumed rule-making authority and responsibility for the total statewide program" of pollution abatement.14

With the new constitution and the election of new representatives, Florida officials began to address the environmental problems of south Florida. The task took on a sense of urgency when, in the early part of the 1970s, the state suffered from

11 "Florida May Legislate Foamy Detergent Away," St. Petersburg Times, 21 September 1964; "Pollution Neglect is Expensive," The Evening Independent, 7 May 1965; and Carter, Florida Experience, 53.

12 These senators, called the Pork Chop Gang, were interested in maintaining the racial status quo and resisted reapportionment, which would give south Florida representatives more say in state politics. According to David R. Colburn, “Washington removed the civil rights issue from state control by adopting the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965. The Federal District Court followed in 1967 by ordering the implementation of the principle of one person, one vote in Florida and dismantling opposition to reapportionment with one stroke of the pen. The world of the Pork Choppers had collapsed, and with it the Southern cause that they had so vigorously championed.” David R. Colburn, “Florida Politics in the Twentieth Century,” in New History of Florida, 363-64.

13 "Reorganization of State Government," Florida Trends in Public Health 2 (February 1969): 1.

14 FSBH, Annual Report, 1967, 249.

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serious water shortages. The central part of the state found that its water supply was in danger. Pinellas County placed a moratorium on building as St. Petersburg suffered from salt water intrusion in its municipal wells. The southeastern coast was in an even worse position. From 1970 through 1971, the area was in the throes of the worst drought in forty years. Governor Reubin Askew was understandably concerned and responded by sponsoring a workshop to address the water shortages in September of

1971 and creating a fifteen-member taskforce to offer recommendations on environmental policies for the 1972 legislative session. In that year, the Florida legislature passed four major bills on environmental protection. Two of the bills related to water. The Florida Water Resources Act placed the Department of Natural

Resources in charge of creating a state water use plan that would inventory resources, prevent waste, and improve water quality. The Department of Pollution Control (which used to be known as the Department of Air and Water Pollution Control) would also create water quality standards systems to be used along with the plan. In addition, the

Florida Environmental Land and Water Management Act allowed the governor and cabinet to establish areas of critical state concern, which all came under special regulation coordinated between state and local agencies to protect water resources. It allowed these same agencies to limit development that would affect the health and safety of the people in more than one county. Finally, the act created five water- management districts that were based on geological and ecological lines rather than political ones.15

15 Nelson, Land into Water, 224-29.

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The state also passed laws to limit or stop pollution and to punish offenders.

Many of these new regulations were signed in accordance with the stricter federal laws of the 1970s. In 1979, the state strove to comply with the Clean Water Act, which required “that a process be developed by states to control the entry of pollutants into ground and surface waters, including septic tank related water pollution.”16 Florida legislators continued to prepare a state water-quality management plan, which, according to the Department of Environmental Regulation, addressed “management and maintenance of individual on-site sewage disposal systems; problems such as regulations forbidding the use of alternative systems, proper monitoring of septage disposal and grey-water treatment, and enforcement of regulations.” One of the strategies employed by the state was the creation of the Ad Hoc Technical Advisory

Committee, which assisted the Florida Department of Environmental Resources in researching septic tanks. Five years later, in 1984, Florida legislators tightened drinking-water standards, by establishing upper limits for the amount of eight volatile organic compounds in municipal water systems. The state also prohibited discharge of any toxic substances into groundwater by new industries and developments. In addition, the Florida Department of Environmental Protection and the U. S. Geological

Survey developed a database to track water use and withdrawal. In 1990, the database incorporated information on wastewater discharge. The goal of this system was to help identify alternate water resources and to determining quality of the water supply. By the beginning of the 1990s, the state had the strictest water protection laws in the country.17

16 Department of Environmental Regulation, State Water Quality Management Plan, I-ii, I-2.

17 Ibid., Florida Department of Environmental Regulation, Florida: State of the Environment (Tallahassee, FL: Department of Environmental Regulation, 1984): 30, 35; USGS, Estimated Discharge

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These state and federal regulations, influenced largely by the environmental movement, altered the way Florida managed its water. Conservation legislation was only one of many strategies necessary to protect Florida's potable water reserves. One of the best was to prevent pollution. In spite of the public health establishment's efforts to control it, improper sewage disposal was an important contributor to water pollution and a serious threat to health. The number of citizens utilizing septic tanks was still remarkably high. In 1979, the Department of Environmental Regulation noted, “When compared to other states, Florida boasted the third highest number of septic tanks in use and the seventh highest percentage of housing units served by septic tanks, as opposed to public sewers or other types of sewage disposal facilities.” This issue had considerable significance because of the amount of groundwater used as a potable- water source in the United States. A 1977 report stated that 20% of the nation’s water came from groundwater. Florida’s usage was even higher: in 1970, 70% of the water supply came from groundwater and 91% of drinking water came from this source.18

Two outbreaks of waterborne illness demonstrate how easy it was for sewage to spread disease. The first of these cases occurred at the South Dade Migrant Farm

Labor Camp. Two hundred ten people in the camp contracted typhoid fever between

February and March of 1973. Two wells (located near a septic tank) that had a history of contamination were implicated in the outbreak. For an unidentified reason, of Treated Wastewater in Florida, 1990 by Richard L. Marella (Tallahassee, FL: U. S. Geological Survey, 1994), 2.

18 Department of Environmental Regulation, State Water Quality Management Plan, I 1-2; U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, Nutrient, Bacterial, and Virus Control as Related to Ground-Water Contamination by James. F. McNabb, William J. Dunlap, and Jack W. Keeley (Ada, OK: Office of Research and Development, 1977), 1; U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, Groundwater Pollution Problems in the Southeastern United States (Ada, OK: Office of Research and Development, 1977), 14- 15; and “ ‘Immigrants’ From North Find that Florida Is Different,” Christian Science Monitor, 3 December 1955.

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chlorination of well water stopped for a short time. A child attending a daycare center located near the well contracted typhoid fever, and investigators believed that the child’s illness caused the outbreak. A second occurrence of disease at a Florida migrant labor camp led to the discovery of echovirus in well water, sewage, and the bodies of camp inhabitants suffering from a gastrointestinal disturbance. The camp’s well was near a solid-waste field and several septic tanks. The water was chlorinated, but for some reason the chemical did not kill the virus. In addition to the gastrointestinal disease, fifteen people contracted hepatitis A six weeks after the outbreak.19

A similar incident occurred in Richmond Heights, Florida, from 17 January to 15

March 1974. Twelve hundred of this small community’s 6,500 residents suffered from a gastrointestinal illness caused by Shigella sonnei bacteria. Health officials traced the infection to a septic tank serving a church and daycare center. The tank was only 150 feet from one of the wells that supplied drinking water to members of the community. A malfunction caused the well’s chlorination system to fail, releasing one million gallons of untreated or insufficiently treated water.20

The state sought ways to reduce the threat that sewage posed to potable water and to public health. The first strategy involved major research projects. The

Environmental Protection Agency and the U. S. Geological Survey supported a number

19 As a result of the publicity from the typhoid outbreak, the Subcommittee on Agricultural Labor of the Committee on Education and Labor conducted an investigation on conditions in Florida’s migrant worker camps. The committee found that most of the workers lived in substandard housing with poor sanitary conditions. Congress, House of Representatives, Subcommittee on Agricultural Labor of the Committee on Education and Labor, The Typhoid Outbreak and General Conditions Relating to Farmworkers in and Around Dade Country, Florida, 93rd Cong., 1st sess., 6-7 April 1973, 1-6; and Bruce H. Keswick and Charles P. Gerba, “Viruses in Groundwater,” Environmental Science and Technology 14 (November 1980): 1291.

20 J. Kneeland McNulty, Effects of Abatement of Domestic Sewage Pollution, and the Fouling Organisms of Biscayne Bay, Florida (Coral Gables, F.L.: University of Miami Press, 1970): 31; and Craun, Waterborne Disease, 189-90.

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of studies in various parts of the state during the 1980s and 1990s. Between December of 1986 and September of 1987, scientists examined the effects of septic tanks on groundwater near the Florida Keys. The study determined that septic tanks caused an elevation in the nutrient concentration of the groundwater in the Keys. These nutrients included ammonium, nitrate, and phosphate. According to Brian E. Lapointe and Julie

O’Connell, who were the authors of the report, the threat occurred during the summer, possibly caused by “increased groundwater during summer” and “increased mixing of groundwater with OSDS [on-site sewage disposal systems, also called septic tanks] during the seasonally high sea levels that occur during late spring-early summer.”21

A second study conducted in 1992 on an area near Palm Beach County confirmed that septic tanks were inappropriate for some regions of Florida. An unincorporated area of the county had no public sewage or water services, so residents in this zone relied on septic tanks and private wells instead. The results of the investigation revealed traces of sewage in groundwater and demonstrated that the local geology impeded filtration in septic tank drain fields.22

A third report in 2000 focused on seasonally wet areas, which authors of the report defined as “wetlands that experience annual inundation.”23 The article mentioned previous studies that found viruses from septic tanks flowed into the surface waters around the Florida Keys, Charlotte Harbor, and Phillippi Creek in Sarasota. During the

21 Florida Department of Environmental Regulation, The Effects of On-site Sewage Disposal Systems on Nutrient Relations of Groundwaters and Nearshore Waters of the Florida Keys, by Brian E. Lapointe and Julie O’Connell (Tallahassee, FL: Florida Department of Environmental Regulation, 1988), iv-v.

22 U.S. Department of the Interior, Hydrogeology and Mitigation of Septic-Tank Effluent in the Surficial Aquifer System in the Northern Midlands Areas, Palm Beach County Florida by Wesley L. Miller (Water-Resources Investigation Report, U.S. Geological Survey, 1992), 1.

23 Florida Department of Health, Determination of an Appropriate Onsite Sewage System, 5.

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seasonally inundated areas study, scientists from the U.S. Geological Survey discovered that “It is this storm flood zone around SIAs [seasonally inundated areas] which presents the potential for interaction of ground and surface waters and may threaten public health when ground waters containing human pathogens from OSTDs can emerge as surface water.” If groundwater that was infected by sewage came into contact with the surface waters above them, then there was a much higher chance that pathogens would have been released.24

The state also encouraged the construction of systems for the proper disposal of sewage. In 1988, Florida officials started working with cities and small communities to pay for infrastructure improvements. According to the Florida Department of

Environmental Protection, “the mammoth cost of building the facilities and financing the other actions necessary to handle all of this wastewater and storm water--more than

$10 billion over the next 20 years—falls mainly to local governments, and ultimately, rate-paying residents.” The answer to the problem was Florida’s State Revolving Fund, which granted low-interest loans to communities for internal improvements.25 Many of the recipients of this money used the funding to either improve or build municipal sewage disposal systems, sewage pump stations, and water-reuse facilities, which helped to reduce reliance on septic tanks. To be eligible for the program, the community had to agree to build environmentally friendly and cost-effective systems, allow the public to participate in planning, determine how to repay the loan, and obtain

24 Ibid., 3, 5.

25 Congress amended the Clean Water Act in 1987, doing away with its Construction Grants program and replacing it with the Clean Water State Revolving Fund program. States created a revolving fund, financed through federal grants and their own matching funds to support water quality improvement projects, including ones devoted to wastewater treatment. “How the CWSRF Program Works,” http://water.epa.gov/grants_funding/cwsrf/basics.cfm, accessed 25 October 2012.

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all the required permits. A similar revolving fund program established in 1997 provided loans specifically for systems that provide drinking water. Finally, the Pollution Control

Bond Loan Program used full faith and credit bonds to give loans to small towns in order to build water-distribution systems, storm-water treatment facilities, and water pollution control equipment.26

While the state’s efforts at research and support of community efforts helped alleviate the difficulties of dealing with sewage, the sheer volume of waste produced every year was a problem in and of itself. By 2000, almost sixteen million residents and visitors discharged 800 million gallons of wastewater per year. While treating sewage in municipal plants did make it safer by removing most of the bacteria and some of the viruses, the treated water still had to be disposed of somewhere. Added to this burden was the sludge pumped out of septic tanks in the course of routine maintenance, which also required safe means of disposal.27

One of the first waste-management techniques was dumping sewage in the ocean. Coastal communities have been relying on this approach for centuries. The metropolitan area in Florida most closely associated with ocean disposal, however, was

Miami. Most people relied on septic tanks or small, cheap sewage systems. As part of the first centralized system, engineers ran sewer lines into the Miami River and jade- colored Biscayne Bay. As early as 1922, residents complained about the smell. City

26 Florida Department of Environmental Protection, Florida and the Environment: Naturally, More Protection Less Process (Tallahassee, F.L.: Florida Department of Environmental Protection, 2001): 28; Florida Department of Environmental Protection, State Revolving Fund: Drinking Water Financial Assistance (Tallahassee, F.L.: Florida Department of Environmental Protection, 1999): 1; Florida Department of Environmental Protection, State Revolving Fund: Wastewater Facilities Financing for Local Governments (Tallahassee, F.L.: Florida Department of Environmental Protection, 1999): 1; and Florida Department of Environmental Protection, Loans for Local Governments Under the Pollution Control Bond Loan Program (Tallahassee, F.L.: Florida Department of Environmental Protection, 1999): 1.

27 Florida Department of Health, Distance to Seasonally Inundated Areas, 3.

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officials took no action, and the problem lingered for decades. First the hurricanes of

1926 and 1928, then the Great Depression, and finally World War II prevented the city from improving its wastewater systems. After an outcry from local residents, the city authorized a pollution survey of Biscayne Bay in the 1940s. The results of the study were disheartening. Biscayne Bay, local rivers, and area canals were all severely polluted. Seventy sewage outfalls and many commercial septic tank cleaners dumped large amounts of human waste in the bay. The authors of the study concluded that at least thirty million gallons of waste entered Biscayne Bay daily, while on some days the amount topped forty million. The coastal region around Miami was unsafe for swimming, fishing, shellfish collecting, water skiing, and other water sports. The condition of Biscayne Bay came to the attention of the public when Philip Wylie, a famous fiction and nonfiction author, published an article in Look magazine entitled

“Polluted Paradise,” which discussed the pollution in the waters around Miami. After the magazine article appeared, citizens were appalled and demanded that the city help save the bay. In this case, it was largely the response from citizens that forced health officials to act.28

The city finally accepted responsibility and attempted to end the pollution. In

1952, local government financed a new sewage treatment plant. By 1960, Miami engineers said that the treatment plant had reduced the amount of raw sewage in

Biscayne Bay by ninety-nine percent. They did note, however, that it would take a hurricane to wash out thirty-five years of accumulated sludge on the floor of the bay.

28 Florida State Board of Health, Biscayne Bay Pollution Survey: Biscayne Bay, Dade County Florida May-October 1949 (Jacksonville: Bureau of Sanitary Engineering, Florida State Board of Health, 1949): 1-21, 75; Blake, Land into Water, 295; Helen Muir, Miami, U.S.A. (Coconut Grove, FL: Hurricane House Publishers, 1953): 223-24; and Davis, An Everglades Providence, 438-55.

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Actually, a storm would have to clean up more than thirty-five years’ worth of pollution because Biscayne Bay was in deplorable condition again in the 1970s. Forty percent of

Dade County’s citizens were using septic tanks (many of which leaked sewage effluent), while some of the towns around Miami were still dumping untreated sewage into surface waters. A report from the Hoover Environmental Legal Defense Fund, founded in 1969 by Herbert Hoover Jr. (of the vacuum-cleaner family) concluded that the waters of

Biscayne Bay were badly polluted and that swimming should have been banned in several areas of the bay. A group calling itself “Eco-Commando Force 70” attempted to demonstrate how bad the pollution was by dumping dye into Miami’s sewage treatment plant. The next day, the dye had turned inland canals yellow. They also dumped 700 bottles in the water near Miami’s ocean outfall. The bottles showed up all along the coast, with a message inside saying, “This is where Miami’s sewage goes.”29

When local officials in and around Miami realized the danger presented by the lack of adequate sewage disposal, they took steps to stop the pollution. Miami and

Dade County established a new metropolitan government and then the Miami-Dade

Water and Sewer Authority, which brought all the small local sewage systems together and placed them under the control of one organization. It also relied upon ocean disposal, which had been practiced since the end of the 1930s. Instead of releasing untreated wastewater into Biscayne Bay, pipes would dump the sewage into the Atlantic

Ocean. By the 1970s, there were at least nine outfalls in the Dade, Broward, and Palm

29 Mormino, Land of Sunshine, 345-46; “Biscayne Bay Now 99 Pct. Pure, Miami Herald, 15 May 1960; Carter, Florida Experience, 147; and “Businessman Prods Own Company on Pollution,” Christian Science Monitor, 19 June 1974; Herbert W. Hoover and William M. Fogarty, Results of the Coliform Sampling Program for Biscayne Bay (Miami, FL: Hoover Environmental Legal Defense Fund, 1969): 2; and Robert B. Rackleff, Close to Crisis: Florida’s Environmental Problems (Tallahassee, FL: New Issues Press, 1972): 68.

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Beach county area that deposited over one-hundred-thirty-million gallons of wastewater per day.30

The use of ocean outfalls had certain advantages. They prevented the pollution of surface waters and moved waste away from densely populated areas. This method was by no means foolproof, however. Scientists disagreed how safe the practice was and whether it was ecologically harmful. There had not been enough studies on ocean disposal in the 1970s to determine how sewage would affect the marine environment.

The same could not be said about Miami. Most of the towns operating outfalls near

Miami were only using minimal treatment on sewage before releasing it. Two separate reports in 1973 found that the recreational waters around the city were aesthetically unpleasing and were a threat to public health due to sewage effluent. Strong winds offshore often pushed the wastewater into swimming areas, bringing the bacteria count far above the state’s regulations for bathing waters. Finally, the federal government affected ocean outfalls through the national Water Pollution Control Act of 1972 that required states to prevent all pollutants from entering navigable waters by 1985. In other words, the cities in southeast Florida would have to treat wastewater before dumping it in the ocean. By 1990, thirty-two percent of Florida’s wastewater still went into the Atlantic Ocean. In addition, as sewage pollution decreased, conditions in

Biscayne Bay improved.31

30 Blake, Land into Water, 295; Mormino, Land of Sunshine, 346; Environmental Protection Agency, Ocean Outfalls and Other Methods of Treated Wastewater Disposal in Southeast Florida: Environmental Impact Statement (Atlanta: Environmental Protection Agency, 1973): IV-36.

31 EPA, Ocean Outfalls and Other Methods of Treated Wastewater Disposal, III-2, IV-36, V-5, V- 7; Alexander W. Reed, Ocean Waste Disposal Practices (Park Ridge, NJ: Noyes Data Corp, 1975): 32; Thomas N. Lee, The Use of Ocean Outfalls for Marine Waste Disposal in Southeast Florida’s Coastal Waters (Miami: University of Miami Sea Grant Program, 1973): 1, 10, 14; USGS, Land Application of

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Another approach to wastewater reuse was the practice of using sewage for irrigation of crops, which became the subject of intense study in the 1970s.32 The

Southwest Florida Water Management District, one of the five districts created under the 1972 Florida Water Resources Act, and the U.S. Geological Survey conducted an experiment in 1977 to determine if sewage use in fields harmed groundwater. To minimize the risks to health, treatment plants removed harmful microorganisms and

Domestic Wastewater in Florida, 3; USGS, Estimated Discharge of Treated Wastewater in Florid, 3; and Mark Derr, Some Kind of Paradise, 365.

32 Land application of human wastes is an old practice. The first recorded application of sewage to soil as a fertilizer was in Bunzlau, Germany, in 1559. It was most popular in during the nineteenth century, when the water closet introduced more liquid into sewage, making disposal more difficult. Farmers in France were particularly successful with this technique. In 1867 and 1868, A. Mille began to experiment with sewage filtration by spreading human waste on a tract of land at la Villette and at Bondy. He then spread nonhuman sewage on another piece of land at Clichy. Mille also put both sand and soil in a cistern and then poured water filled with sewage over it. From these tests he found that soil successfully filtered out the sewage and that it worked better than the chemical filtration favored by some hygienists. Another engineer named Alfred Durand-Claye assisted Mille, and in addition to the experiments on filtration, the two aimed to prove that sewage would serve as an excellent fertilizer for crops. They raised vegetables on the land where they conducted their filtration studies and at another site at Gennevilliers. They used nonhuman sewage to fertilize a plot of land owned by the city of Paris that was sandy and poorly suited for agriculture. Despite initial resistance from local residents, the test produced a bounty of vegetables.

French lawmakers were skeptical about sewage farming. In 1889, however, Mille’s and Durand- Claye’s efforts to sway doubtful officials were successful, leading to the passage of a law that offered monetary support for an aqueduct, pumping stations, and addition land for sewage irrigation. Before being pumped out to the fields via pipes on bridges along the Seine, engineers filtered sand and other “debris” from the sewage. The sewage farms produced excellent produce for the people of Paris and allowed agriculture to develop in new areas. Tenant farms and small truck farms flourished, relying upon the sewage provided free of charge by the city. While the fields at Gennevilliers dwindled as new industries entered the area around World War I, farmers in other fields continued to use the wastewater, filtering a large part of Paris’s sewage well into the twentieth century. With the expansion of the suburbs, rising land prices made sewage farming less economical and pumping sewage farther from the city was not feasible because it would start to decay. As a result, Paris began to chemically treat some of its waste. Sewage farming persisted, however, with roughly two thousand hectares still under cultivation as late as the 1980s.

Farmers in the United States experimented with sewage farming, but sewage farming never caught on the way it had in Europe. It did find a place in western states, where the arid climate required water conservation. Donald Reid, Paris Sewers and Sewermen: Realities and Representations (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1991), 69,80-83.Committee on the Assessment of Water Reuse as an Approach to Meeting Future Water Supply Needs, National Research Council , Water Reuse: Potential for Expanding the Nation's Water Supply Through Reuse of Municipal Wastewater (Washington, D.C., 2012), 23; and Lawrence K. Wang, Norman C. Pereira, Yung-Tse Hung, eds. Biological Treatment Processes (New York: Humana Press, 2009), 30.

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substances from the sewage. The scientists used the treated water to irrigate a pasture of Bermuda grass located near Lakeland, Florida. The study revealed that the sewage did not increase the amount of nutrients in groundwater or clog the soil after two and a half years of application. The scientists recommended using reclaimed water, as it was called, to irrigate fields because the practice was successful at conserving water, recharging the aquifer, fertilizing the soil, and filtering sewage effluent in the same way a septic tank’s drain field does.33

Scientists conducted similar studies in Tallahassee during the 1970s and the

1980s. Tallahassee was probably the first city in the state of Florida to use this method of sewage disposal. Before the 1960s, treatment plants in Tallahassee released all treated and untreated wastewater into a nearby lake. The wastewater changed the nutrient levels in the lake, resulting in algal blooms and fish kills that alarmed nearby residents. To counteract the lake’s destruction, engineers began applying treated wastewater to land with a high-rate trickling filter in 1961 that sprayed the wastewater onto the ground. In 1966, they installed a second filter that released a larger amount of water. In the 1970s, scientists began inquiries into the efficacy of this form of sewage treatment through a series of studies. The results of separate investigations in 1971,

1975, and 1986 were similar to those of the 1977 Lakeland, Florida, report. The use of wastewater for irrigation near Tallahassee was useful for treating raw sewage, supplying nutrients to the soil, avoiding the contamination of surface water, and

33 The state of Florida sees land application of wastewater as both a method of disposal and as a means of treatment. It does, however, still require all effluent to be treated before application in order to protect groundwater. USGS, Land Application of Wastewater, 34; Florida Department of Environmental Protection, Florida and the Environment, 28; Brown, et al, Utilization and Treatment, 1; U.S. Department of the Interior, Water Resources Division, Effects on Ground-Water Quality From Irrigation Pasture with Sewage Effluent Near Lakeland, Florida, by R.C. Reichenbaugh (Open-file report, U.S. Geological Survey, 1977): 2, 52-54.

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recharging the aquifer. There were very small traces of wastewater in the aquifer, which were mostly in the form of chloride and nitrates. These substances did not significantly alter the condition of the water, however, and reducing the amount of effluent sprayed on the soil lowered the amount of nitrate in groundwater to an acceptable level.34

Although using wastewater to irrigate fields is an environmentally friendly practice, there was a small possibility that sewage effluent could trickle into groundwater, as it did in one of the Tallahassee surveys. Studies revealed that sewage effluent was infiltrating ground water. A study in 1982 noted that substances found in the sprayed effluent had reached the aquifer, but the amounts were not high enough to exceed state drinking water standards. There were a number of factors that determine whether bacteria and organic substances will reach groundwater, including the pH of soil being irrigated, the soil’s moisture content, the amount of sunlight, temperature, soil microorganisms, and the organic matter within the soil. Sixty centimeters of well- drained soil should have existed between the surface of the ground where the waste was being applied and bedrock or groundwater sources below it. There should have been no channels or fractures in the soil that pathogens could travel through. If the

34 The wastewater irrigation was successful for Tallahassee. It was still in use in 1984, irrigating two thousand acres of corn, soybeans, ryegrass, and millet. This system cost seven million dollars and helped treat the sewage from 116,000 people. In addition, Orlando was constructing a $180,000,000 structure that would irrigate citrus groves rather than discharge into Lake Tohopekaliga. Florida Department of Environmental Regulation, Florida: State of the Environment, 32; U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, Wastewater Irrigation at Tallahassee, Florida by Allen R. Overman (Ada, OK: Office of Research and Development, 1979): 1; Brown, et al, Utilization and Treatment , 69; U.S. Department of the Interior, U.S. Geological Survey, Effects on Ground Water Spray Irrigation Using Treated Municipal Sewage Southwest of Tallahassee, Florida by Michael C. Yurewicz and Jack C. Rosenau (Tallahassee, Fla.: U.S. Dept. of the Interior, Geological Survey; Denver, Colo. : Books and Open-File Reports Section, 1986):1- 2, 48; and U.S. Department of the Interior, U.S. Geological Survey, Hydrologic Environmental Effects of Sprayed Sewage Effluent, Tallahassee, Florida by Larry J. Slack (Tallahassee, FL: U.S Geological Survey, 1975): 41, 49.

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area to be treated was on an incline, then the waste should have been worked into the soil immediately or the land should have been terraced in order to prevent wastewater runoff. The waste should have also been carefully treated prior to application in order to disinfect it and remove any toxic organics, using methods such as free residual chlorination. In addition, at least one to two months should have passed between wastewater application and harvesting to ensure the safety of the crops.35 Finally, pretreatment was necessary because there was also a small risk from bacteria being released through aerosols when the water was sprayed onto the soil.36

Wastewater irrigation also found use outside the agricultural sector. A number of towns across the state began to apply reclaimed water to golf courses, cultivated median strips, parks, and lawns. Some areas also used the water for recharging groundwater, firefighting, wetlands creation, dust control, and decorative ponds. The state encouraged the application of reclaimed water as part of its water conservation program. The Florida Department of Environmental Protection issued a set of

35 There are questions about the safety of raw vegetables irrigated with wastewater. If the water is sufficiently treated before application, then most of the bacteria should have been destroyed. To avoid any risks of contamination, the best crops to use with wastewater irrigation are forage crops, pasture crops, and perhaps citrus. U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, Human Enteric Virus Survival in Soil Following Irrigation with Sewage Plant Effluents by Bernard P. Sagik (Cincinnati, Ohio: Health Effects Research Laboratory, Office of Research and Development, U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, 1980): 12, 20.

36 T. M. Younos, ed., Land Application of Wastewater Sewage: A Report of the Task Committee on Land Application of Sludge of the Committee on Water Pollution Management of the Environmental Engineering Division of the American Society of Civil Engineers (New York: American Society of Civil Engineers, 1987): 59, 78; Brown et al, Utililzation and Treatment, 40; D. H. Foster and R. S. Engelbrecht, “Microbial Hazards in Disposing of Wastewater on Soil” in Recycling Treated Municipal Wastewater and Sludge through Forest and Cropland, William E. Sopper and Louis T. Kardos, eds. (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1973): 266; and D. O. Cliver, “Surface Application of Municipal Sludges,” in Virus Aspects of Applying Municipal Waste to Land: Symposium Proceedings, June 1976 (Gainesville, FL: Center for Environmental Programs, Institute of Food and Agricultural Sciences, University of Florida, 197679-80; USGS, Waste Water Application by Spray Irrigation On a Field Southeast of Tallahassee, Florida: Effects on Groundwater Quality and Quantity, 1980-82, by John F. Elder, James D. Hunn, and Calvin W. Calhoun (Tallahassee, FL: USGS, 1985), 1.

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guidelines establishing the amount of treatment and disinfection necessary before wastewater could be recycled. These rules were in accordance with limits set by the

Environmental Protection Agency. In 1995, Florida communities had completed about four hundred reclaimed water systems, with a total capacity of roughly 860,000,000 gallons per day, making it a national leader in wastewater reuse.37

A second process utilizing sewage that carried risks similar to those of spray irrigation was the use of biosolids. A biosolid is the solid portion of sewage that had been drained of water and dried. Biosolids contained many nutrients that plants need for proper growth, so they were often used as a fertilizer and a soil conditioner.

Biosolids had some components that commercials fertilizers lack, including “organic matter, trace elements, and slow nutrient release.” They were also used for ranching, land reclamation, forests, and public areas. Like sprayed effluent, wastewater treatment plants removed pathogens and other harmful substances from biosolids before they were applied to soil. Using biosolids was a natural, energy-efficient way to dispose of the 253,000 tons of dry waste material produced by Floridians and visitors every year.

There were also many lands that the biosolids could have been applied to in the state.

Besides farmland, in 1977 there were 81,000 hectares of unreclaimed land damaged by mining of various substances, including sand, gravel, and phosphate. In addition, pastures in Florida tended to be unfertilized because ranchers have few funds due to the low market value for cattle. A study in southwest Florida at two ranches revealed that biosolids increased forage yield and digestibility. Of course, there is the chance

37 In 1993, the Department of Environmental Regulation and the Department of Natural Resources were combined and became the Department of Environmental Protection. USGS, Discharge of Wastewater in Florida, 2; Florida Department of Environmental Protection, Reuse of Reclaimed Water: Use it Again, Florida! (Tallahassee: Florida Department of Environmental Protection, 1997): 3-7, 32; and FDER, Florida: State of the Environment, 32-35.

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that nitrates and microbes from biosolids involved in ranching and land reclamation could have reached groundwater, but there have been no reported infections in Florida due to the use of this material.38

Instead of recycling biosolids and sewage effluent or releasing wastewater into steams, some communities in Florida opted to use subsurface injection of waste. In subsurface injection, gravity or a pump forced treated wastewater into rock caverns deep within the earth. Sanitary engineers took the idea from the petroleum industry, which employed the process to dispose of brine used in refinement. Florida was a good candidate for subsurface injection because below it was one of the most porous rock layers in the world. Beginning in 1913, companies interested in using this technique had to obtain a permit from the State Board of Health. Well sites had to be chosen very carefully because an improperly situated well could have polluted groundwater or dissolved the layers of rock that the waste is injected. There was also a chance that the casing of the pipes transporting the waste into the ground could rupture or corrode and allow the effluent to leak out. Nevertheless, many cities opted to use subsurface injection wells because the land surrounding the towns was suitable for the practice.

The first well used to dispose of treated sewage appeared in Broward County in 1959.

As time went on, more and more local governments adopted the practice.39

38 Florida Department of Environmental Regulation. Biosolids Management in Florida: Beneficial Use of Domestic Wastewater Residuals (Gainesville, FL: Center for Solid and Hazardous Waste Management, 1997): 1-45; and Younos, Land Application of Wastewater Sludge, 45.

39 U.S. Department of the Interior, U.S. Geological Survey, U.S. Geological Survey Water-Supply Papers, Subsurface Injection of Liquid Waste with Emphasis on Injection Practices in Florida by John J. Hickey and John Vecchioli (Washington, D.C.: United States Government Printing Office, 1986): 1-18; and FDNR, Comprehensive Shellfish Harvesting Survey For St.Joseph Bay, Gulf County, Florida, by Ernest Barnett and John S. Gunter (Tallahassee, FL: Florida Dept. of Natural Resources, Shellfish Environmental Assessment Section, 1986.): 17.

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One area that was a prime candidate for injection wells was the southern part of

Dade County. The suggestion to use deep well injection there first appeared during a federal-state pollution abatement conference in 1970. After the group reconvened several times, the members concluded that subsurface injection was the best option for south Dade because there were so few suitable methods. Sewage could not have been dumped in Biscayne Bay or Everglades National Park, and ocean outfall was out of the question because there was no direct access to the Atlantic. There was a chance that the well could pollute the Biscayne Aquifer, but with so few alternatives, subsurface injection was the best answer.40

The use of biosolids, reclaimed water, and ocean disposal helped Florida reduce water pollution and increase water conservation. One of the driving forces behind this effort was economic self-interest. Since the 1920s, when the number of annual visitors reached half a million, the state had a vested interest in supporting tourism. Florida’s beaches, springs, and eventually rivers attracted millions of vacationers each year, while human-made draws such as Walt Disney World, which opened in 1971, also contributed to the large number of visitors. In 1977, 29 million tourists generated over eleven billion dollars for the state. By 1989, the number grew to 30 billion. No other industry in Florida produced as much money for sales tax revenues as tourism and

40 Subsurface injection caused problems in the Floridan aquifer as well. The city of Melborne found that one of its injection wells, constructed to avoid dumping waste in Indian River, was leaking and polluting the aquifer. To avoid dumping waste in the river, the city was building a second injection well to handle about half of the effluent. A study from 2004 showed that sewage from injection wells, sewage treatment plants, and septic tanks near Indian River County were polluting offshore waters, causing increased nutrient loads and algal blooms. David C. Scruggs, “Leaky Well Can Operate Until April,” Orlando Sentinel, 23 March 1989; Peter J. Barile, “Evidence of Anthropogenic Nitrogen Enrichment of the Littoral Waters of East Central Florida,” Journal of Coastal Research, 20 (Autumn 2004): 1237; and Carter, Florida Experience, 179.

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recreation. To keep the money flowing into the state, it was necessary to protect the environment and people’s health.41

Unfortunately for tourists and residents, the land and water were not always clean. One unsanitary situation appeared in 1999 in the Florida Keys. Long known for its bars and beaches, the Keys were a huge draw for tourists. The sensitive ecology of the island chain was particularly susceptible to disruption, especially since the islands held more people than they could comfortably support. In the 1970s, the population stood at about fifty thousand; by the end of the 1990s, the number had increased to eighty thousand. At the peak of the tourist season, the number swelled to 140,000. A problem occurred in the overtaxed islands when sewage was leaking (probably from old septic tanks and sewage lines) into the waters along the shore. Most coastal soils were unsuitable for septic tanks because they were excessively porous. Effluent moved through the soil quickly and was largely untreated when it reached groundwater or surface water. In roughly twenty-four hours, waste material from a home could have reached coastal water, frequently helped along by storms that churn the water. Philip

Caputo, a journalist and former resident of the Keys, reported that the county in which the Florida Keys was located (Monroe) “ranks 66th out of Florida’s 67 counties in soil suitability for septic tanks but first in septic-tank density per square mile.”42 The leaking septic tanks and sewer lines prompted local officials to prohibit swimming. Exposure to

41 Ronald R. Schultz and William B. Stronge, The Social and Economic Effects of the Florida Tourist Industry (Boca Raton: Florida Atlantic University, 1978): 5; Florida legislature, House of Representatives, Committee on Tourism and Cultural Affairs, Promotion and Protection of Florida’s Natural Tourism Resources: 1995 Interim Project (Tallahassee: Tourism & Cultural Affairs Committee, Florida House of Representatives, 1995): I; and Mohl and Mormino, “A Social History of Modern Florida,” 430, 435.

42 Philip Caputo, “Lost Keys,” New York Times, 15 December 1991.

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infected water and the pathogens it carried could have caused ear infections, sore throats, and even gastrointestinal illnesses. Finding notices about the water contamination at hotels upon arrival, some sightseers were cutting their vacations short rather than risk bathing in the polluted water.43

Another potential blow to the tourist industry was the destruction of the coral reef off of the Keys. The reefs are located in Biscayne National Park and John Pennekamp

State Park, two of the largest underwater parks in the country. Thousands of people visited the parks every year, taking glass-bottom boat rides or snorkeling in the clear water to see the coral and the thousands of sea creature that make the reef their home.

Large portions of the reef started to die, and biologist Brian LaPointe believed that the culprit was sewage. In the late 1990s, three hundred and fifty tons of waste from a sewage treatment plant and another three hundred and fifty tons from septic tanks and cesspits throughout the county entered the water and were carried by the tides to the reef. The nutrients in the waste promoted the growth of algae that used up large amounts of oxygen and made the coral more susceptible to disease. LaPointe’s theory was controversial and many scientists disagreed, but something was killing the coral, and sewage was one of the most likely perpetrators. The only solution was to improve sewage treatment on the islands and to reduce the amount of growth that was causing such a great burden on the ecosystem.44

Sewage was having an impact on other sea creatures as well. Shellfish, particularly clams and oysters, were affected by effluent washing into the oceans and

43 Ibid., “Crowded Florida Keys a Paradise in Trouble,” New York Times, 28 September 1999; and Florida Department of Natural Resources, Comprehensive Shellfish Harvesting Survey, 22.

44 “As Oceans Warm, Problems From Viruses and Bacteria Mount,” New York Times, 25 January 1999; and Caputo, Lost Keys.

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bays surrounding Florida. Small changes in the aquatic environment could have caused stress to shellfish and impacted the quality of their meat. In addition, excess nutrients could have encouraged the growth of microorganisms that produced toxins or consumed large amounts of oxygen.45 The biggest hazard, however, came from the bacteria and viruses within untreated or improperly treated sewage effluent. In 1980, scientists discovered a serotype of Vibrio cholerae in the waters of Apalachicola Bay.

There were also over thirteen cases of cholera contracted from oysters in Florida between 1979 and 1983. A case occurred when six guests at a party in “a small northwest Florida town near the Gulf of Mexico” who ate raw oysters became ill and suffered from nausea, diarrhea, stomach cramps, weakness, and headaches. Another outbreak involved the Norwalk virus. In early 1980, cases of shellfish-borne disease in

Wakula County led to increased monitoring of the coastal waters and eventually the closure of all shellfish-harvesting areas in the county.46

45 A prime example of excess nutrients causing harm occurred in Lake Apopka in 1972. The growth of a bacterium called Aeromonas hydrophila caused the death of many marine organisms. The nutrients came from sewers, citrus farms, and water hyacinths. National Research Council, Subcommittee on Aquatic Animal Health, Aquatic Animal Health (Washington: National Academy of Sciences, 1973): 14-15; R. D. Dunning, and C. W. Adams, Economic Analysis of the Potential for Oyster and Hard Clam Depuration in Dixie and Levy Counties, Florida ( Gainesville, FL: Food and Resource Economics Dept., Institute of Food and Agricultural Sciences, University of Florida, 1995):1; Florida Marine Research Institute, Clams: Florida’s Buried Treasure (St. Petersburg, FL: Fish & Wildlife Conservation Commission, Florida Marine Research Institute, 2000): 1; Gregory E. Ness, “Survival of Vibrio Species of Public Health Significance in Naturally Contaminated Gulf Coast Oysters,” (Master’s thesis, University of West Florida, 1982): 1-2, 8; and Robert John Carrick and Mark D. Sobsey The Development of an Improved Method for the Detection of Enteric Viruses in Oysters (Raleigh : University of North Carolina Sea Grant, North Carolina State University, 1997): 7.

46 This was probably the first incidence of gastroenteritis caused by Norwalk virus in the United States. The virus had not been detected before because there had been no a reliable and inexpensive test available. R. A Gunn, H. T. Janowski, S. Lieb, E.C. Prather, and H. B. Greenberg, “Norwalk Virus Gastroenteritis Following Raw Oyster Consumption,” American Journal of Epidemiology 115 (1982): 348- 49; Cheng-Shih Hu, “Incidence of Some Opportunistic Pathogens in the Suwannee River Estuary, Florida (Master’s thesis, University of Florida, 1983): 31; Scott Andree, ed., Apalachicola Oyster Industry: Proceedings of a Conference Held October 6-7, 1982 in Apalachicola, Florida (Gainesville, FL: Sea Grant Marine Advisory Program, University Florida, 1983): 17; Leslee A. Williams, Peter W Mason, and Joseph M Faircloth, An Assessment of Water Quality in Coastal Wakulla County, Florida, Based on Total

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Any traces of viruses in water and molluscan shellfish could have had an adverse economic effect. The shellfish industry was one of the primary employers in coastal areas and generated large amounts of money for the state; clam farmers reported about one-million dollars’ worth of sales in 1997 alone.47 Once consumers knew about disease outbreaks, they often stopped buying shellfish. The shellfish industry itself had some methods that helped improve the quality and safety of shellfish, which were depuration and relaying. Depuration involved placing shellfish in tanks of fresh water for at least forty-eight hours. As the shellfish fed, the water washed out the bacteria and viruses that the oyster or clam ingested. Relaying was a similar process, but instead of moving shellfish to tanks, they were placed in the ocean or a bay where the water was clean. These processes were not one hundred percent effective and they were often too costly to be employed on a large scale. Instead, shellfish producers had to rely upon the state of Florida to protect the shellfish growing waters.48

To prevent loss of revenue and to protect the health of its citizens, the state joined the Interstate Shellfish Sanitation Conference, which is an association of states with voluntary membership and the National Marine Fisheries Service. It also had ties to the U.S. Food and Drug Administration and the Environmental Protection Agency. In consultation with these agencies, the state passed laws and regulations regarding the sanitation of the shellfish industry, completed comprehensive shellfish harvesting area and Fecal Coliform Bacteria, July 1, 1980-February 1, 1981 (Tallahassee, Fla. : Bureau of Water Analysis, Biological Section, 1981): 1.

47 Most of Florida’s aquaculture industry is focused on clam cultivation, but there is a small number of oyster leases near Apalachicola, which generated $329,000 in sales in 1999.

48 Andree, Apalachicola Oyster Industry, 17; Suzanne Colson and Leslie N. Sturmer, “One Shining Moment Known as Clamelot: The Cedar Key Story,” Journal of Shellfish Research 19 (2000): 477; and Dunning and Adams, Oyster and Hard Clam Depuration in Dixie and Levy Counties, Florida, i-ii, 2.

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surveys, and instituted measures to ensure that shellfish growth, harvesting, and processing were safe and sanitary. It prohibited the growth of shellfish around wastewater treatment plants and marinas, requiring a buffer zone around them. The

Florida Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services managed shellfish harvesting areas. It classified the growing waters based upon a series of surveys involving sanitation, hydrography, meteorology, and bacteriology. The classification system divided waters into categories that included approved (which are usually open to harvesting, conditionally approved (which may be closed from time to time based on pollution), restricted (only open for relaying or depuration and requiring a permit), conditionally restricted (relaying and depuration could be suspended because of pollution), prohibited (no shellfish harvesting allowed) and unclassified (no harvesting until surveys could be completed). The Department of Agriculture also regularly tested the quality of for fecal coliforms.49

These laws had an effect on many Florida coastal communities. One town in particular took advantage of the state’s stance on protection of shellfish-growing waters.

The residents of Cedar Key, who called theirs a working waterfront, invested heavily in clam production. After a ban on gill-net fishing in 1995 and the closure of oyster beds because of pollution, the Federal Department of Labor and Employment Security offered job-training programs in clam aquaculture. The town embraced clam harvesting and many of its residents became involved in the shellfish industry. To protect their investment, clam growers attempted to stop storm water and sewage pollution. They

49 Florida Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services. Summary of Shellfish Harvesting Area Classification and Management (Tallahassee: Florida Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services, Division of Aquaculture, Shellfish Environmental Section, 2000, document in possession of author): 1-4.

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formed the Cedar Key Water Alliance, which works with politicians and federal agencies in an effort to keep the water clean. The town received funds from the state to develop a master storm-water plan and to improve storm-water disposal. The most notable achievement in Cedar Key, however, was its crusade against the septic tank. The town sought to remove every septic tank and connect all homes to a wastewater treatment system. Volunteers worked hard, using funds from the Suwannee River Water

Management District and the Florida Legislature to hook up all homes to the town’s sewage system by the year 2000. In Cedar Key, protection of a major industry and the will of the citizens determined how local government would manage sewage.50

Rather than taking advantage of regulations, other towns ran afoul of the law. In

1989, state and federal officials closed the oyster beds in the Suwannee Sound. About twelve cases of food poisoning related to salmonella occurred at the end of 1989 and the beginning of 1990. The oysters were contaminated with salmonella bacteria from septic tanks built along the Suwannee River. One of the biggest polluters was the town of Suwannee. Almost every piece of inhabited property in the town relied on a septic tank. There are few places more unsuited for septic-tank use than Suwannee. The area’s soil was unsuitable, the water table was high, and the coast was prone to storm surges. The Florida Department of Health and Human Services inspected septic tanks and determined that few functioned properly. Many of the tanks were less than twenty- four inches above ground water and were located within the ten-year flood plain of the

Suwannee River. As a precaution, the state closed the oyster beds and made no promises about whether oyster harvests would ever be allowed in Suwannee Sound

50 Colson and Sturmer, “One Shining Moment Known as Clamelot, 477-78.

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again. The state also instituted a moratorium on all new construction in Suwannee until a proper waste-treatment facility could be built. Finally, Governor Bob Martinez, who had dealt with faulty septic tanks when he was mayor of Tampa, banned the installation of septic tanks along the Suwannee, Santa Fe, and Ichetucknee Rivers.51

Residents of Suwannee and real estate agents criticized the ban. They claimed it went against the right of property owners to build septic tanks on their property and would prevent most people from building houses because they would have no way to dispose of waste. One property owner even filed suit against the state. As a result, the state decided to allow some septic systems along the Suwannee under a variance review process.52 As for the town of Suwannee, it received funding from the state to build a new sewage treatment plant. The town finished construction of the plant in

1997, and the state lifted the ban on oyster harvesting in 1998.53

Cedar Key’s story was one of success; a small town coming together to protect both the health and wellbeing of its citizens and the economic lifeblood of the

51 Doug Hamman, “Florida Village Replaces Septic Tanks with Vacuum Collection System,” Public Works 133 (October 2001): 38; “Oyster Waters Closed Monday,” Gainesville Sun, 25 January 1989; Cindy Swirko, “Suwanee Septic Tanks Fail Test, Team Finds,” Gainesville Sun, 6 December 1990; and Karen Voyles, “When the Old Ways are Gone,” Gainesville Sun, 8 October 1991.

52 An article in the Gainesville Sun explained that “HRS began developing a new rule regarding flood plain septic systems. Its proposed rule banned conventional septic tanks and mounded systems. Property owners could seek a variance if they used and alternative septic system and if specific criteria regarding soil depth were met.” The article went on to note that “alternative systems do not completely eliminate bacteria or pollution . . . . They are, however, more effective than traditional septic tanks and drainfields.” Mounded systems often contain two chambers for waste—one that holds solids and one that holds liquids. Instead of a traditional drain field, this type of system includes a mound that sits on the surface of the ground, and filters water through layers of gravel, sand, and soil. The mounded systems in Suwannee sat above the level of the floodplain, but they could erode. Cindy Swirko, “Septic Debate May Be Resolved,” Gainesville Sun, 1 April 1992.

53 Gainesville Sun 19 November 1990, Cindy Swirko, “HRS Changes Mind on Tanks,”, Gainesville Sun,12 May 1991; “The ‘Right’ to Pollute,” Gainesville Sun, 17 May 1991,; Cindy Swirko, “Septic Debate May be Resolved,” Gainesville Sun, 1 April 1992; “Wastewater Facility to be Built Next Year, Gainesville Sun, 6 October 1994; Ron Matus, “Taking the Treatment,” Gainesville Sun, 19 September 1997; and Gainesville Sun, 14 February 1998.

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community. Most of the efforts to control pollution and protect water supplies were not nearly as effective. In fact, the state seemed no closer to finding solutions to these problems at the end of the 1990s than it had when the environmental movement began in the 1970s. One of the greatest challenges, and the one that caused both the loss of water resources and sewage pollution, was unrestrained population growth and urban development. In 1970, Florida’s population was 6.7 million; a decade later that number had swelled to almost 10 million. In response, the state legislature passed new laws designed to control development, with the most significant being the 1985 Growth

Management Act.54 It required local governments to formulate a comprehensive plan that lays out a strategy for development. A state agency, the Department of Community

Affairs oversaw the comprehensive planning process and set minimum standards for planning. Florida historian Gary Mormino describes its key component, concurrency, as a provision which “required that local government pay for infrastructure . . . with new growth, the so-called pay-as-you-build doctrine.”55 This ambitious legislation had not delivered on its promises. A 1987 effort by the legislature to raise taxes that would cover the costs of the infrastructure improvements associated with development did not work. The taxes would, according to geographer Christopher Meindl, “cover almost 40

54 David R. Colburn and Lance deHaven-Smith explain that “the first growth management system was created in the 1970s. It established a three-pronged system of land use controls. These controls included a framework of state, regional, and local land use planning; a process for regional review of developments of regional or statewide impact; and a program to designate and protect areas of the state in which unsuitable land development would endanger resources of regional or statewide significance.” Colburn and deHaven-Smith, Government in the Sunshine State, 141.

55 Mormino, Land of Sunshine, 31. For more on growth management in Florida, see Timothy S. Chapin, Charles E. Connerly, and Harrison T. Higgins, eds., Growth Management in Florida: Planning for Paradise (Burlington, VT: Ashgate Publishing, 2007); Gary Armes Mattson, Small Towns, Sprawl, and the Politics of Policy Choices: The Florida Experience (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 2002); and Robert A. Catlin, Land Use Planning, Environmental Protection, and Growth Management: The Florida Experience (Chelsea, MI: Sleeping Bear Press, 1997).

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percent of the cost of concurrent infrastructure, assigning 34 percent of the costs to local governments, and basically pretending economic growth would produce additional tax receipts to cover the other 26 percent.” He also noted that “The antitax backlash was so swift and severe that Governor Bob Martinez called the 1987 legislature back into special session to repeal the objectionable new sales taxes on services that had not been previously taxed—and left local governments to pay for most infrastructure themselves.”56 The state also chipped away at the authority of Regional Planning

Councils, while local governments have constantly amended their plans, often at the urging of developers.57

Unrestrained growth taxed water reserves, and in spite of the pollution prevention and conservation measures employed by municipal leaders, scientists, and health professionals, water shortages were still a problem at century’s end. Groundwater pumping to meet the needs of urban areas came at the expense of wetlands and springs, which slowly started to dry up. Drawing down the aquifer also led to saltwater intrusion in coastal areas. The problem was so severe in Sarasota, Manatee, and

Hillsborough counties that local officials claimed that they would not grant new groundwater pumping permits.58

56 Christopher F. Meindl, “Florida Water Management Since 1980: Challenges in a State Addicted to Population Growth,” in Land into Water - Water into Land: A History of Water Management in Florida, Updated Edition by Nelson Manfred Blake (Gainesville, FL: University Press of Florida, 2010), 439.

57 “Florida: Population Growth,” http://www.censusscope.org/us/s12/chart_popl.html, accessed 12 March 2013; Mormino, Land of Sunshine, 31-32; and Chapin, et. al., Growth Management in Florida, 308- 310.

58 In these three counties, water managers and developers created a permit-trading system that decreased groundwater pumping while still allowing new building. Cynthia Barnett, Mirage: Florida and the Vanishing Water of the Eastern U.S. (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2007), 35,161.

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Water shortages also pitted communities against each other. In Pinellas County, the cities around Tampa Bay, which included St. Petersburg, had overdrawn their wells, leading to saltwater intrusion. Instead, Pinellas County acquired groundwater pumping permits in inland neighboring Hillsborough and Pasco counties. Growth and increased water usage in these counties, along with the pumping to supply their neighbors in

Pinellas, caused wetlands to dry up, sinkholes to form, and dry wells for homeowners.

The three counties spent millions of dollars on litigation as they fought over water. In

1998, the Pinellas, Hillsborough, and Pasco counties came to an agreement and formed

Tampa Bay Water, a utility that supplied water to these three counties. By working together, they were able to cut groundwater pumping by a third.59

The state of Florida engaged in a similar fight with Alabama and Georgia over water rights. The Chattahoochee supplies water to the city of Atlanta, agricultural land in Alabama, and Apalachicola Bay. After a severe drought in the late 1980s, the Army

Corps of Engineers planned to increase the amount of water held by Lake Lanier, which is fifty miles north of Atlanta, to supply the city when water levels in the river ran low.

Alabama and Florida filed suit, worried that the plan would affect development in

Alabama and aquaculture in Apalachicola Bay. Attempts to form a water compact between the states had failed, and litigation continues.60

Limited water resources in the state meant that pollution control became even more important. Although municipal sewers and sewage treatment plants were common, one of the major pollution sources at the end of the century continued to be

59 Barnett, Mirage, 106-110.

60 Ibid., 114-21.

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septic tanks. Builders still relied on the septic tank to cut costs and to construct homes outside of cities where there would be no connection to municipal sewage disposal facilities. By the early 1990s, there were over 1.8 million septic tanks in use in Florida, and contractors installed an estimated 40,000 to 60,000 septic tanks per year. The landmark regulations of the early 1970s protecting Florida’s water had only so much effect, as they did not apply to septic tanks built before the legislation had been signed.

To make matters worse, the Florida legislature had been rolling back regulations designed to restrict septic tank use and protect the state’s waters. In 1979, Bob

Graham, who was well known for supporting legislation that protected the environment, chose not to veto a bill that allowed four septic tanks per acre, replacing the previous law restricting builders to only two septic tanks per acre. In 1980, lawmakers were considering a bill reducing the amount of sewage treatment necessary before effluent could be discharged to surface waters. An article in the St. Petersburg Times explains,

“the bill eliminates an existing requirement that sewage discharged into Tampa Bay and certain other bays be given advanced treatment. It instead sets a standard described as slightly more than secondary treatment.”61

Developers and septic tank companies were often behind the move toward weaker regulations. In 1972, a spokesman for the Florida Homebuilders Association claimed that restrictions on septic tanks would cause “economic disaster surpassing the great depression of 1929” and that “the state has to consider at some point what is more important—the economic welfare of its citizens, or the birds and the bees and the

61 “House Favors Drop In Sewage Treatment Standards Along Bay,” St. Petersburg Times, 17 May 1980; “Septic Tank Bill Raises Eyebrows,” St. Petersburg Times, 11 May 1979; “Environment Under Siege,” Palm Beach Post, 19 May 1979;

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fishes.”62 To this end, these groups lobbied to prevent the passage of septic tank legislation. For example, in 1983, the Florida House and Senate were considering bills on septic tanks. The Senate measure, which had been more restrictive, was then

“softened” by “amendments from the Homebuilders Association and General

Development Corp.,” according to the Sarasota Herald-Tribune.63 The changes included increasing the allowable daily flow from a home on a one-acre lot into a septic tank from 900 gallons to 1500 gallons. In 1999, the Florida Building Commission was trying to convince legislators to make changes to the state’s building code, which would take regulation of septic tanks out of the hands of state and county health departments.

Instead, they wanted local agencies responsible for building and code enforcement to oversee septic tanks. Opponents of the measure worried that placing the responsibility for septic tanks with people who were less experienced would lead to health risks.64

In many cases, legislators were involved in development, real estate, or septic tank industries, so it was in their best interest to repeal or reduce rules on septic tank installations. The 1983 bill being pushed through the House was supported by Senator

George Kirkpatrick, who quickly moved it through Health and Rehabilitative Services

Committee while resisting efforts from other senators who wanted to include tougher standards for septic tanks. Kirkpatrick was a homebuilder and a member of the Florida

Homebuilders Association. He claimed to have been convinced that septic tank restrictions were bad for the state’s economy by Charlotte County Commissioner Lee

62 “Builders See ‘Disaster’ In Pollution Crackdown,” Palm Beach Post, 29 September 1972.

63 “Senate Panel Passes Weakened Bill On Septic Tanks,” Sarasota Herald-Tribune, 11 May 1983.

64 “Whistle-blowing Research Engineer Given the Boot,” Sarasota-Herald Tribune, 30 January 1995; and “Controversy Brewing over Septic Tank Regulations,” Ocala-Star Banner, 11 July 1999.

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Eure. Eure worried that a strict septic tank law would mean that thousands of privately owned residential lots could not be developed and would then be removed from the tax rolls, costing upwards of six million dollars.65 Eure had his own ties to developers. In

1988, he was working for a mortgage broker and the Sarasota Herald-Tribune claimed that “his philosophy can be characterized as pro-development, and pro-growth.”66

Convincing homeowners that doing away with septic tanks was necessary was still a hard sell. One of the best examples comes from Sarasota County, which was hoping to move 8,500 homes from septic tanks to a central sewer system in an effort to clean up Sarasota Bay. The biggest polluter of the bay was nitrogen, 46 percent of which came from storm water, fouled with fertilizers, pesticides, and automobile oils, while only about 10 percent came from sewage. Replacing septic tanks would only reduce nitrogen concentrations by four percent, but the plan also included a provision that would move some users from small, privately owned treatment plants to a much larger municipal treatment plant that was better at filtering nitrogen from wastewater.

Eliminating septic tanks and moving homes to the public treatment plant would reduce nitrogen by 12 percent, which still seemed like a small amount, considering that the project cost $72 million dollars and homeowners would have to bear the expense. In addition, the proposal would have also benefitted Phillippi Creek and Roberts Bay, which drain into Sarasota Bay and receive more than 20 percent of their nitrogen loads from sewage. Proponents of the plan were quick to point out the health benefits, as sewage can spread disease. Nevertheless, public opinion was decidedly against the

65 Septic Tank Legislation Takes Aim at State’s Newcomers,” Sarasota Herald-Tribune, 20 May 1983; “Senate Panel Passes Weakened Bill On Septic Tanks,” Sarasota Herald-Tribune, 11 May 1983; “Charlotte Group Testifies Against Septic Tank Plan,” Sarasota Herald-Tribune, 3 May 1983.

66 “Charlotte County Commission,” Sarasota Herald-Tribune,19 August 1992.

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project and the costs associated with the conversion from septic tanks to municipal sewage disposal.67

Measures to stop wastewater pollution in places like Sarasota County,

Suwannee, and Miami demonstrated that the state of Florida was attempting to protect both the environment and its citizens. Unchecked growth, especially as a result of suburbanization, was destroying Florida's natural environment. Drainage projects siphoned off so much water that its citizens were suffering through a water crisis. The state moved to protect this resource through legislation and by reducing pollution caused by sewage. It also tried alternative methods of disposal, such as subsurface injection, and attempted to reuse the byproducts of the sewage treatment process.

These actions were vitally important for maintaining the potable water supply, but they also helped ensure that major revenue-generating industries dependent on a clean environment, namely tourism and aquaculture, would also be protected from the side effects of unsanitary sewage disposal practices. In spite of these efforts, the problems with water and sewage persisted. The unrestrained growth that taxed water resources did not stop, even though the state put rules in place to slow the spread of development.

As a result, severe water shortages continued. Pollution control measures also had a limited effect, as the number of septic tanks in Florida increased with the population.

Sewage continued to act as a major determinant of policy that affected the health and wellbeing of the citizens of Florida.

67 Although the Sarasota County Commission decided against the Phillippi Creek project after the public protest, its members reexamined the issue in 1999 and decided to go ahead with their plan to replace septic tanks along the creek. “Commission Oks Phillippi Creek Project,” Sarasota Herald-Tribune , 29 January 1999; “Sewer Project Looms on Horizon,” Sarasota Herald-Tribune, 2 January 1996; and “County Primed for Vote,” Sarasota Herald-Tribune, 10 April 1997.

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CHAPTER 6 CONCLUSION

By the end of the twentieth century, Florida had established itself as major growth state with a booming population, a tourist haven for those hoping to bask in the sun, and a major installer of septic tanks. It started, however, as a neglected colony at the edge of empire with little in the way of medical care for its citizens and few provisions for public health. Florida’s population was not large enough to necessitate the construction of wastewater infrastructure in its cities until long after statehood. In fact, it was not until the beginning of the twentieth century that Florida created an effective public health organization, and it was only out of necessity in the face of a major epidemic.

Once the legislature approved the creation of the FSBH, and the yellow fever epidemic that spurred its creation was over, public health officials began to create new programs that addressed major health issues. One of the most important was sewage disposal and the spread of waste-borne illnesses, starting with hookworm. After its discovery in the early 1900s, this disease became the target of prevention programs across the South. Florida struck out on its own, choosing not to join in the efforts of the

Rockefeller Sanitary Commission. Instead, public health officials in the state created their own agenda, which included education, laboratory testing, and treatment. Their plan was not terribly effective since the conditions that allowed hookworm to spread— warm temperatures, sandy soils, and a population that was often too poor to afford so much as a sanitary privy—were very difficult to overcome.

Florida’s leaders also seemed particularly unconcerned with public health. After dragging their feet to institute a public health organization, the legislature left the FSBH

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chronically underfunded. The lack of resources was particularly problematic in the

1920s when the state’s population was booming and tourism increased. The situation only grew worse as the country entered the Great Depression and tax revenues declined, leaving even less money to for public health in Florida.

Support for the FSBH’s agenda came from outside of the organization. Although at first reluctant to work with other agencies, the board came to accept help from other groups both inside and outside of the state. The assistance from the federal government, which was expanding its reach as a part of New Deal legislation, was vital to the survival, and expansion, of Florida’s public health program. Without the New

Deal, the cuts that the FSBH had to make to its operations would have been much deeper. One of the main benefactors of government largess was sanitation. FERA, the

CWA, and the WPA constructed thousands of privies in Florida, and helped, although to a lesser extent, build sewage treatment plants. This aid disappeared at the end of the depression, but Florida’s role in World War II meant that other assistance was available to the communities hosting military installations. The Lanham Act supplied funding for the construction of sewage infrastructure, while conscientious objectors constructed privies in small communities far removed from urban centers. COs perfected the privy building process right before this form of sewage disposal became obsolete. Lanham

Act funding helped launched modern sewage disposal practices in the state.

Post-World War II Florida had no room for privies. GIs moving into the state moved the population growth past the highs of the 1920s. Cities were building sewage treatment plants, and hookworm had almost disappeared, but the major growth in wastewater treatment was in the suburbs. Federal policies allowed developers to drain

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wetlands and dig up farmland for huge housing developments. Since most of this tract housing was in the countryside without access to municipal water and sanitation systems, developers installed thousands of septic tanks. While they were cost effective for builders, they were a nightmare for home owners. Within a few years of installation, the inappropriately sited septic tanks failed, flooding yards and threating the underlying aquifers. The FSBH had to work hard to deal with the mess. It had finally received the authority it needed to pass regulations concerning public health with the legislature’s approval of a state sanitary code in the early 1940s, and it put standards in place to hopefully curb the pollution. Developers and homeowners, who either did not see the need to make changes to their sewage disposal practices or did not want to lose money in the move away from septic tanks, pushed back against the FSBH. The process of having cities and surrounding unincorporated areas build sewage treatment plants was complicated, and often contentious, as seen by Jacksonville’s efforts to work with the

FSBH and complete a sewage treatment system.

By the early 1960s, the impact of post-war life was being expressed through environmental degradation. Reformers moved to protect the environment, and were successful in getting their message across to the politicians who in turn passed landmark legislation designed to protect air and water in the early 1970s. Activists and politicians in Florida had already come to see the importance of the environment and were passing regulations at the state level; water was becoming increasing scarce after years of population growth and drought. Sanitation was moving more towards pollution control to preserve water supplies and becoming less of a public health matter. To that end, many of the strategies to deal with sewage were directed towards recycling and

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reuse of waste. The public health aspects of sewage disposal could not be entirely divorced from the environmental aspects, as an outbreak of typhoid in the 1970s demonstrates. Septic tanks were also still a threat to groundwater supplies, and their numbers had only increased over time. Attempts to restrict or regulate their use were only marginally successful, as the same groups who protested about the rules in the

1960s—homeowners, septic tank companies, and developers—complained as much in the 1970s, 1980s, and 1990s. The lessons offered by environmentalists and public health officials did not fall entirely on deaf ears. There were some Floridians, such as the residents of Cedar Key, who saw the destructive nature of a method of a sewage disposal that is not right for Florida and successfully worked to protect the environment and their livelihood from septic tank pollution.

Most people who think that growth and development can be measured in terms of overcrowding, destruction of forests and other natural areas, and water pollution, but they rarely stop to consider the impact of sewage disposal. Sewage has been, and continues to be, a significant problem in Florida. The movement to create sewage infrastructure to address this issue has truly been a twentieth-century phenomena.

Before 1900, the state’s population was so small and there were so few cities that wastewater treatment was impractical and almost impossible with such a far-flung populace. Florida lacked a public health authority to direct any efforts to control the disposal of sewage, and the legislature was in no hurry to create such an agency until a yellow fever epidemic forced their hand. Once in existence, though, the FSBH quickly addressed sewage and waste-borne illness, starting with hookworm. In fact, human waste was one of the board’s main priorities and helped shape its development. The

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Bureau of Sanitary Engineering was one of the FSBH’s largest departments, and it required a large portion of the board’s personnel and resources.

The story of sewage also shows the close relationship between public health and the environment. Improper disposal of bodily wastes can have a profound impact of the state’s water supply, which in turn affects daily life for thousands of Floridians, both in terms of their health and their ability to enjoy the natural world around them. It also had a huge impact on the economy. Florida relies on tourism to generate a large portion of its revenue every year, and a polluted environment turns tourists away from its beaches and resorts. Leaky septic tanks and indiscriminate dumping of sewage into the state’s waterways adversely effects the clam and oyster industries, which is another contributor to the state’s coffers and a draw for visitors who love to catch or eat seafood.

Furthermore, sewage pollution undermines Florida’s image. The state has long been touted as a paradise on earth, with plenty of warm sunshine that could restore a person’s good health. Negative publicity from hookworm, dying coral, or polluted groundwater contradicted the way Florida portrayed itself and threatened to reduce the steady stream of visitors and potential residents necessary for the state’s economic survival. Florida had based its economy on growth, and any threat to that growth could have dire economic consequences.

The state could not provide the sewage disposal facilities necessary to keep up with its burgeoning population. Federal aid was necessary to create the modern waste disposal structure that cities relied on for continued growth. The state gladly accepted assistance with privy building, and then waste treatment facilities, and the support of federal agencies that included the PHS. At the same time, federal actions contributed,

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in part, to the immense population growth in Florida. The decision to train soldiers in the state during World War II brought thousands of potential residents to Florida, while federal housing policies supported the construction of tract housing that depended on the construction of septic tanks.

Septic tanks, and the broader issues surrounding sewage, were a major determinant of public policy for both public health and the environment. There are limits to the effectiveness of these rules, however. First, they are applied unevenly. Racial minorities and Florida’s poorest residents have, in many cases, been excluded from the benefits of sanitary waste disposal. Poorer residents of Jacksonville in the 1950s and migrant workers suffering from typhoid in the 1970s can attest to this fact. Second, wealthier Floridians, including some homeowners, developers, real estate agents, and installers of septic tanks have interfered in the policy-making process to further their own interests. These groups have limited or blocked efforts to change sanitary regulations for septic tanks and wastewater treatment plants to avoid paying more for sewage disposal facilities.

In the years since the turn of the twenty-first century, little has changed.

Population growth slowed down, from a rate of 6.2 percent between 2000 and 2003 to

1.9 percent during the recession years of 2007 to 2010. Economic recovery is allowing the population to creep back up, growing 2.4 percent between 2010 and 2013, which is still taxing Florida’s water resources. The Natural Resources Defense Council found in

2010 that Florida was one of fourteen states at risk of a water shortage by the year

2050. Sinkhole activity has increased in recent years, and some geologists point to groundwater overpumping for agriculture and development as the cause. Overpumping

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is also causing saltwater intrusion on the southeastern coast of Florida to move further to the west. Surfaces waters are still in poor shape, and the EPA said that Florida must set numeric limits for the amount of nitrogen entering its waters. Meline MacCurdy, a lawyer who writes about water and the environment, noted that “the State of Florida, local governments, wastewater treatment plants, and members of industry,” challenged the EPA, claiming that “ the numeric limits in the Final Rule place unreasonable economic burdens on local governments, stakeholders, and citizens.” 68 As a result, the

EPA allowed the state to set its own standards.69

As for sewage, the state is still struggling to control pollution from wastewater.

Over two million septic tanks serve a third of Florida’s population. Legislators did have the chance to institute new rules that would help protect Florida’s water supply, but they were once again influenced by groups that did not want stricter septic tank laws. In

2010, the legislature passed a measure that would require homeowners to have their septic tanks inspected every five years. Homeowners complained bitterly about the costs of the inspections, which some experts claimed could be as much as five hundred dollars. Many rural counties were against the rule as well, since most septic tanks are located outside urban centers. In the face of this opposition, the legislature, many of its

68 The septic tank law also included the provision of a subsidy to homeowners who had trouble affording the cost of the inspection. Meline MacCurdy, “EPA Faces Lawsuits Challenging Potentially Far- Reaching Rule Setting Numeric Nutrient Criteria in Florida Waters,” http://www.martenlaw.com/newsletter/20110210-florida-water-nutrient-criteria, accessed 28 August 2013.

69 Jeff Kunerth “Florida’s Population Growing Again, but Slowly,” Orlando Sentinel, 5 August 2013,; “Florida Among 14 States Facing Water Shortage,” South Florida Business Journal, 20 July 2010; Diana Olick, “Overdevelopment Widens Florida Sinkhole Problem,” 15 August 2013, NBCNews.com, http://www.nbcnews.com/business/overdevelopment-widens-florida-sinkhole-problem-6C10928482, accessed 28 August 2013; Andy Reid, “South Florida Drinking Water Faces Saltwater Threat,” Sun Sentinel, 12 September 2011; Jack E. Davis, “Lousy Water, Lousy Press for Florida,” Tampa Bay Times, 26 March 2013, http://www.tampabay.com/opinion/columns/column-lousy-water-lousy-press-for- florida/2111299, accessed 28 August 2013.

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members elected in the height of the Tea Party fervor and with Governor Rick Scott, a

Texan who put forth a pro-growth, anti-environment agenda, approved a new bill that would allow local governments to decide if they wanted to adopt the inspection requirement. Areas with first-magnitude springs, however, had to make a decision on this program before January 1, 2013. By December of 2012, all of the nineteen counties and three cities with first-magnitude springs had opted out of the program.70

Even after a hundred years, Florida is still struggling to find a way to dispose of its sewage. It has yet to achieve a balance between the protection of health and economic growth. There is no easy solution to this problem, and it will not go away as long as the state’s population continues to grow. Florida is also a bellwether; the way it handles sewage disposal will help determine how other states facing similar issues with water quality, development, and health will act. Perhaps, as time goes on, Florida’s leaders will find a way to steer developers away from the wholesale use of septic tanks, make a commitment to protect its dwindling groundwater, and enact health and environmental policy that is a benefit to both their constituents and their economy.

History can be their guide to this new course of action.

70 “Citing Cost, Some People Want to Flush a Septic Tank Inspection Requirement,”, http://www.politifact.com/florida/statements/2011/jan/27/dennis-jones/florida-septic-tank-inspections/, accessed 28 August 2013; Bruce Ritchie, “Backlash Brewing Against Florida Septic Tanks Requirement,” 22 September 2010, http://bruceritchie.blogspot.com/2010/09/backlash-brewing-against-florida- septic.html; accessed 28 August 2013; “Florida Department of Health Launches New Website for New Septic Tank Guidelines,” http://capitalsoup.com/2012/05/08/florida-department-of-health-launches-new- website-for-new-septic-tank-law-guidelines/, accessed 28 August 2013; and “Onsite Sewage Programs,” http://doh.state.fl.us/environment/septictanksystems/, accessed 28 August 2013.

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BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH

Bridget Bihm-Manuel was born and raised in Louisiana. She completed an honor’s baccalaureate in history from the University of Louisiana at Lafayette in 2002.

She moved to Gainesville, Florida, in 2003 and earned a master’s degree in history from the University of Florida in 2005. She finished her graduate studies in 2013 after earning a Ph.D. from UF. She currently resides in Gainesville with her husband, Keith

Manuel, and her daughter, Rebecca.

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