Among the millions killed by the 1918 pandemic was the last Hibs manager to win the cup.
SPORT IS not immune to the effects of swine flu, and never has been. As Scottish football prepares for the pandemic that could bring its season to a premature end, there are chilling echoes of the time, 90 years ago, when two of its own fell
victim to the same virus. According to some estimates, the notorious outbreak of 1918 killed up to 100 million people worldwide, 10 times as many as the First World War. The game in this country was not spared.
Dan McMichael, the manager who led Hibernian to their last Scottish Cup triumph, and Angus Douglas, a Chelsea striker capped by Scotland, are both listed among the "notable fatalities" caused by what is still the world's biggest outbreak of an infectious disease. Commonly referred to as Spanish flu because of its early effect on Spain, it spread to almost every corner of the civilised world, from the Arctic Circle and the remote Pacific Isles to Edinburgh and the docks of Leith.
That was where McMichael worked as a ship's carpenter, when he wasn't dedicating himself to Hibs. The Irishman was, and still is, central to the story of a club that emerged from the poverty-stricken ghetto of Edinburgh known as little Ireland, joining them in the late 1890s and filling every role from treasurer and physio to secretary and manager. He was the man behind their fabled Scottish Cup triumph in 1902, which has yet to be repeated. He also guided them to the league title a year later. Alan Lugton, who wrote The Making of Hibernian, describes McMichael as "a tall, serious-looking man with a bushy moustache", who fought to keep Hibs alive when they struggled during the war years. With players and staff called up to serve their country, and no money to compete with Celtic – who had replaced them as the Irish community's most popular club – he became adept at identifying young players with a bright future. "I don't need money to bring stars to Easter Road," McMichael said. "Hibs bring out their own stars."
It wasn't easy though. Rangers demanded that Hibs be dropped from the fixture list because they were not competitive enough. McMichael stubbornly refused. While some clubs closed down until the war was over, he saw football as an important device with which to boost the community's morale, even if results suggested otherwise. By the end of 1918, his team were bottom of the league, boasting just three wins in 19 outings that season. Jock Ward, owner of a chip shop in Easter Road, even said he would serve up free fish suppers in the event of a home win.
A depressing time on the field grew even worse off it. McMichael was already ill when he took Hibs to play Falkirk on February 1, 1919. There had been heart trouble and talk of a kidney complaint, but on his way back to Edinburgh from a 1-1 draw at Brockville, it was the flu that caused his collapse. Taken home to be with his wife, Jane, at 247 Easter Road, he was confined to bed, where he died peacefully five days later. After a big funeral, with an impressive cortege, and a club wreath in the form of a broken harp, he was buried in the nearby Eastern Cemetery, where he remains to this day.
One newspaper report, which described him as "about 60 years of age", said that "death was caused by heart trouble", but his grandson, Stan, now 83, and still living in Edinburgh, confirms that it was pneumonia brought on by influenza. "I don't think there can be any doubt that he fell victim to the flu epidemic," says Lugton. "He had heart and kidney trouble, but flu was the final nail in his coffin."
The pandemic hit Scotland much as it did everywhere else. Introduced to Britain in early 1918, probably by servicemen travelling through the ports, one of the earliest cases was at the Royal Navy's Grand Fleet in Rosyth. At its peak, there would be 40 deaths in Edinburgh every seven days. One week in Leith brought 26 fatalities. Children were banned from the cinema, schools were closed for three weeks at a time, and Boots the Chemist was open until midnight in order to cope with demand.
Edinburgh's death rate was the highest in Scotland, with a figure that peaked in the month when McMichael died. During the so-called 'flu period', between July 1918 and April 1919, Scotland's official death toll was 17,575, although experts believe the true figure was nearly double that. It was a filthy, brutal virus with the potential to kill its victims in a matter of days. While the bubonic plague wiped out large numbers in the course of several years, the Spanish flu wasted no time, inducing in some the dreaded heliotrope cyanosis, which turned faces lavender-grey, and signified imminent death.
Then, as now, young adults were under threat due to the over-reaction of their immune system. Among them was Douglas, a Dumfries-shire lad who made nearly 100 league appearances in six years with Chelsea. During that time, he played for Scotland in a 2-1 defeat of Northern Ireland at Celtic Park. After 18 months with Newcastle United, the outside right went off to serve his country. He survived the Great War, but within a month of the Armistice being signed, he was dead, killed by flu on December 14, 1918, shortly before his 30th birthday. The same happened to Reggie Schwarz, who died, aged 43, on November 18. Although best known as a South African cricketer, he was born in England, and played against Scotland at rugby in 1899.
America suffered most of the sporting casualties. The 1919 Stanley Cup finals were suspended five-and-a-half hours before the decisive game when the entire Montreal Canadiens team, as well as their manager, George Kennedy, fell ill. 'Bad' Joe Hall, a 36-year-old defenceman born in Staffordshire, died five days later. It is the only time in its 116-year history that ice hockey's showpiece event has had to be abandoned.
Baseball, too, was affected. In the season the Boston Red Sox won the World Series, their last for 86 years, their captain, Dick Hoblitzell, nearly died from the illness. In September alone, 1,000 of the city's residents were killed. The Boston Braves' Larry Chappell died at an army camp in France, aged only 28. Gina Kolata, who has written a book about the pandemic, describes a photograph of a baseball match taken at the time. "It's a surreal image," says Kolata. "The pitcher, the batter, every player and every member of the crowd are wearing gauze masks."
In the US last Wednesday, something similar was happening. When the Chicago Fire football team played a friendly against Mexico's Club America, hand sanitisers were installed throughout Toyota Park, and spectators wore surgical masks. All 176 of this weekend's professional matches in Mexico are being played behind closed doors. And, in Britain, plans have been drawn up to cut short the football season should the current outbreak be declared a pandemic. When America sneezes, the rest of the world catches cold.
Although Stan McMichael knew that his grandfather died from flu, it never occurred to him that it might be that flu. The 1918 outbreak, worse than any to have spread since, is sometimes referred to as the forgotten pandemic. Its impact is too often regarded as an extension of the war, which was always the US government's priority. To remember it, now more than ever, is to acknowledge the loss suffered by families all over the world, one of which was Scottish football.
