New Polio Campaign

Baring her left arm, the Seattle housewife stepped around the fire engine and up to the doctor and nurse waiting at the rear of the firehouse. Deftly the doctor inoculated her with 1 cc. of Salk polio vaccine, and seconds later she was on her way home. "Why," she exclaimed to a fireman at the door, "that line moves faster than the free-coffee line in a supermarket."

Last week, in Seattle and across the nation, long lines of men and women quickly got their polio shots as local medical societies waged an all-out campaign to inoculate everyone under 40 before the polio season sets in. Although the campaign came too late in many cities to do the most good (the safest protection requires two shots a month apart, followed by a third seven months later), any polio shot is better than none at all. And just a few months ago, the present campaign seemed impossible.

Noon to Night. After the first wild clamor for polio vaccine when it was released two years ago, few seemed to care when, last summer, unused supplies of the vaccine started to pile up. Most doctors did little to persuade adults that they should get the same shots as their children, injected the vaccine in their offices at standard fees. The turning point came in January, when the American Medical Association -- which had been notably unenthusiastic about free or cut-rate inoculations -- finally urged its members to develop mass-inoculation programs.

In Seattle it was soon decided that the only way to set up a successful program --backed by newspapers, radio and TV--was to make it free. To foot the bills the city's United Good Neighbors' Polio Trust Fund donated $185,000, the local chapter of the National Foundation for Infantile Paralysis gave $30,000, and the county public health department agreed to pay for all vaccine used for persons under 20. Hoping to needle some 300,000 people in two weeks, the King County (Seattle) Medical Society rounded up 1,000 of its 1,200 members, plus 1,500 nurses and 2,500 clerical volunteers and set them to work for no pay in 50 fire stations in relays from noon until 9 at night. "My God," one psychiatrist as he took his "I haven't given a shot in 15 years."

Far to Go. Seattle doctors seemed sold the free program. "I've never known doctors to be so unanimous," said Dr. F. Lee, the obstetrician in charge of the drive. "Why in the whole thing, I've only been called an s.o.b. once." Most medical groups in other cities were either slicing or eliminating vaccination fees. Clinics in and around Pittsburgh have shot some 170,000 people under 20 in the past month. Houston hopes to inoculate 200,000 during a twelve-hour polio blitz on St. Patrick's Day.

But scattered around the nation, a few medical societies still huffily rejected free and cut-rate inoculations. In some cities only people willing to classify themselves as "indigent" could get free shots. Said one Ohio county health commissioner: "If a polio epidemic comes this summer, any doctor driving his car down the street is going to hear from the people, rotten tomatoes and all." For whatever reason, despite the vaccination campaign, nearly half of the nation's estimated 109 million people under 40 have so far received no polio shots, and only 10% have received all three.

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