Every Hospital Turned Him Away, So the Health Officer Decided to Open One Himself
A contagious patient with nowhere to go, a council that won't pay its bills, and a health commissioner who dug up a forgotten ordinance and stopped asking permission.
The city hall was thrown into a flutter this morning by the report that spread through the building of a pestilence case in the health office.
"Smallpox," said one; "scarlet fever," said another, and clerks in the various offices began looking toward the doors with ideas of getting out of the building.
Health Commissioner Sargentich diagnosed the case as diphtheria and measles. It was a malignant case, and with no place to put the patient and the doors of all the hospitals closed to him, the health officer came to a sudden determination to open a city hospital, whether the council likes it or not.
About 10:30 o'clock a young man named Sims from one of the lodging houses walked into the health office of the city hall. He was sick, and Dr. Sargentich at once discovered that it was a case of contagion.
Dr. Sargentich attempted to get the man into a hospital, but they all refused to take him. They said they would take no more city cases because the council will not pay the bills. This left Sargentich in a bad predicament, and he appealed to City Attorney Baker, who dug up an old ordinance which authorizes the health board to establish a city hospital. Immediately the health commissioner started out to get the board together to take action.
The health commissioner has been at loggerheads with the council for several weeks. There has been considerable contagion in the city and he has had to take care of it. Having no hospital, he sent some cases to the Fannie Paddock hospital. Then the city refused to pay the bills. Two were turned down Wednesday night for over $100 for Fannie Paddock hospital. The other hospitals refused to take the cases at all.
To make matters worse, the council recently passed an ordinance providing that the health officer may only employ nurses after getting permission from the council. As the council is never in session when the contagious cases appear, the doctor has no authority to employ nurses. Further, he was limited to paying $2 a day, which is less than any nurse will serve for.
The commissioner has repeatedly called the attention of the council to the conditions in the city, but the council has paid no attention to his recommendations. His letters are not even read.
With the case of contagion tied up in his office this morning, the doctor concluded things had reached a crisis. He asked the attorneys what to do, and they told him to go establish a city hospital. An old ordinance gives this authority, and the health commissioner says he will do it and not wait any longer on the council.
The attorneys say the city will have to pay the bills, and if the council refuses it simply means that the city will be sued and will have costs to pay in addition.
“They said they would take no more city cases because the council will not pay the bills.”
In 1909 Tacoma's health officer had to hunt for a forgotten ordinance to shelter a man no hospital would admit — a reminder that public health capacity is a budget line, not a given. The question of who pays for the care of the poorest and sickest patients, and what happens when a council simply ignores the health department, is still being fought out in county budgets and emergency rooms today.
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