latimes--2020-04-21--Bay Area health officers got ahead of the COVID-19 crisis. Here's how they did it

Sunday was supposed to be a rare day off for Dr. Tomás Aragón after weeks of working around the clock .
Instead , the San Francisco public health officer was jolted awake by an urgent 7:39 a.m. text message from his boss .
“ Can you set up a call with San Mateo and Santa Clara health officers this a.m. , so we can discuss us all getting on the same page this week with aggressive actions , thanks , ” said the message from Dr. Grant Colfax , director of San Francisco ’ s Department of Public Health .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ , ” Aragón responded .
It was March 15 , two days before St. Patrick ’ s Day , a heavy partying holiday and nightmare scenario for public health officials .
The novel coronavirus was spreading stealthily across the San Francisco Bay Area and public health officials were alarmed by the wave of deaths in Italy and elsewhere around the globe .
Silicon Valley would be next , case counts indicated .
Until then , they had primarily focused on banning mass gatherings .
But they knew more had to be done — @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Within a few hours of the text , Bay Area public health leaders jumped on a series of calls to debate options , including the most dramatic — a lockdown order that would shutter businesses , isolate families and force millions of residents to stay home .
They decided they had no choice .
And they were able to move swiftly because they had a secret weapon : a decades-long alliance seeded in the early days of the AIDS epidemic that shields them from political blowback when they need to make difficult @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the nation ’ s first stay-at-home order , probably saving thousands of lives and charting the course for much of the country .
Three days later , Gov .
Gavin Newsom followed with his own order for California .
New York came next , as have dozens of states since .
“ This was one exhausting and difficult day for all of us , ” Aragón later wrote in his journal .
“ We all wish we did not have to do this.
” Now , as officials nationwide weigh how to lift @ @ @ @ @ @ @ transmission slows — and protests against the orders mount — the Bay Area is again poised to lead , but with a warning : All of this could be for naught if it isn ’ t done right .
The coalition of county public health officers didn ’ t set out to lock down the Bay Area that fateful Sunday morning in mid-March .
But as they discussed the exponential increase in Santa Clara County cases , where the hospitals were becoming overwhelmed by infected patients falling ever sicker , what they needed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” said Dr. Sara Cody , the county ’ s public health officer .
“ It felt huge to me , ” she recalled , “ because I knew how disruptive it would be.
” Elsewhere in the region , diagnosed cases were sparse .
But decades of experience had shown the health officers that while they represent different jurisdictions , they are one region when it comes to infectious diseases .
“ We knew that it would be a matter of time before that was our experience , ” said Dr. Matt @ @ @ @ @ @ @ health officer , who contracted COVID-19 days later .
Cody told her colleagues that Italy was under siege , and her county was just two weeks away from a similar fate .
If she could have locked down sooner , she told them , she would have .
“ That was compelling , ” said Dr. Lisa Hernandez , the public health officer for the city of Berkeley , which had not yet recorded any cases of community transmission .
“ We knew there was going to be St. Patrick ’ s Day @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was critical.
” Dr. Scott Morrow , California ’ s longest-serving public health officer , who heads operations in San Mateo County , said he also felt the urgency .
“ We thought , ‘ Yes , the clock is ticking , ’ ” he recalled .
County health officers in California have immense power to act independently in the interest of public health , including the authority to issue legally binding directives .
They don ’ t need permission from the governor or mayors or county supervisors to act .
Even for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ its collective strength , telling millions of Californians to shelter in place seemed risky at first .
But the health officers involved had grown to trust one another , even if they don ’ t always see eye to eye .
For instance , they currently disagree on whether to require residents to wear face coverings .
Some counties , including San Francisco and Marin , are requiring them in public , while others , like Santa Clara , are not .
On the first Sunday morning call , Aragón floated the idea @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Area residents stay at home .
By the next confab , Cody , Santa Clara County ’ s health official , made the case that for social distancing to work , it had to be an order .
“ Sara Cody was the courageous leader !
” Aragón later wrote in his journal .
So forceful a move can be unpopular , but evidence shows it can also be the most effective , in the absence of treatment or a vaccine .
“ Here ’ s the rub on these methods — they @ @ @ @ @ @ @ early , ” said Dr. Howard Markel , a medical historian at the University of Michigan and an expert on the 1918 flu pandemic .
“ When you do a quarantine , you stop the commerce , you stop the flow of money , ” he said .
“ But on the other side of that are those whose lives are saved.
” This isn ’ t the group ’ s first pandemic .
The alliance , formally called the Assn .
of Bay Area Health Officials , was born in 1985 in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Dr. David Werdegar , who became health officer for San Francisco that year , was analyzing AIDS data for surrounding counties and asked their health officers to join him for dinner at Jack ’ s , an old bordello-turned-political hangout in the city that has since shuttered .
Most of the infectious disease research was happening in San Francisco at the time , but HIV was spreading , and one city couldn ’ t fight it alone .
“ It was important that we share all the information we had , ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and retired .
Dr. Robert Melton , a former Monterey County health officer , said that working for nearly two decades with Bay Area public health giants taught him tremendous lessons .
“ Camaraderie is important in maintaining the energy to be able to focus on the common good , through good and bad , ” he said .
That close-knit relationship among the 13 health officers — representing counties stretching across a large swath of Northern California , from Napa to Monterey — continues to this day .
Collectively , their public @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
They meet monthly and communicate regularly on Slack , a messaging app .
Their diverse backgrounds and expertise , especially in an era of funding cuts , provide a deep wellspring of public health knowledge .
Together , the group has joined forces to combat youth vaping , air pollution and measles outbreaks .
And they have also tackled various influenza scares , which is why they had an emergency response blueprint at the ready when cases of what would later be called COVID-19 first cropped up in Wuhan , China .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ a region thinking about pandemic planning , and that really helped us come a long way thinking about these policies for COVID-19 , ” said Dr. Erica Pan , the interim health officer for Alameda County .
So when they jumped on the call that Sunday , they were already in mid-conversation about how to respond .
They brought their lawyers and , working into the predawn hours , translated their lockdown plan into legalese , one that would be enforceable with fines and misdemeanor charges .
They would make prime-time announcements across @ @ @ @ @ @ @ elected officials .
“ This is not the moment for half-measures , ” said San Jose Mayor Sam Liccardo .
“ History won ’ t forgive us for waiting an hour more.
” But they don ’ t always speak as one .
Morrow , who is known affectionately among the group for his crankiness and wry sense of humor , later rebuked residents who weren ’ t following the orders , saying “ you spit in our face and you will contribute to the death toll that will follow.
” And at @ @ @ @ @ @ @ just to the “ Big Seven ” counties surrounding the San Francisco Bay , whose officers peeled off from the larger group to issue it first .
They shared their model ordinance with the others , who quickly followed .
Dr. Gail Newel , an OB-GYN and Santa Cruz County ’ s health officer , is not an infectious disease expert .
She has relied heavily on the group ’ s expertise throughout her career , and especially now .
“ It ’ s this incredible bank of knowledge and wisdom and experience @ @ @ @ @ @ @ members , ” she said .
“ And the whole Bay Area benefits by that shared knowledge bank.
” Roughly one month after they made the unprecedented decision to close the local economy , the risk seems to have paid off .
It will be years before researchers have fully analyzed its impact , but officials across the Bay Area are cautiously optimistic .
Others haven ’ t been so lucky .
Though there are important differences between the two regions , New York City , which issued a stay-at-home order four days @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hospitals completely overwhelmed and had recorded more than 14,600 deaths as of Monday .
By comparison , the counties represented by the alliance have documented more than 205 deaths and hospitals haven ’ t been overtaken by a surge .
In fact , hospitals brought online specifically to accommodate an overflow of patients are sitting largely empty .
Even within California , communities that waited to issue lockdown orders have emerged as COVID-19 hot spots , including Los Angeles , where Mayor Eric Garcetti followed suit three days after the Bay Area .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ health officials have wondered if they made the right call .
But “ anytime I have any doubt , I just read another news report from New York or Detroit or New Orleans , ” said Dr. Chris Farnitano , Contra Costa County ’ s health officer .
And the close-knit band is already undertaking its next task : reopening the economy without causing another spike in cases .
Before the orders are lifted , the officials say there must be rapid , widespread testing across the population .
They want to hire @ @ @ @ @ @ @ not the thousands , to trace the virus and quarantine those who have been infected .
And until there is a vaccine , they may ask people to wear masks in public and continue social distancing , even in bars , restaurants and schools when they reopen .
“ I was concerned that we might get a lot of resistance and it might get interpreted as alarmist and overreach , ” said Marin County ’ s Willis .
“ Time has shown that it was really a vital step to take when we @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for Kaiser Health News ( KHN ) , which publishes California Healthline , an editorially independent service of the California Health Care Foundation .
KHN is not affiliated with Kaiser Permanente .

Dr. Tomás Aragón, health officer for the city and county of San Francisco, speaks during a coronavirus news conference headed by public health directors spanning six Bay Area counties on March 16, 2020, in San Jose.
Sunday was supposed to be a rare day off for Dr. Tomás Aragón after weeks of working around the clock.
Instead, the San Francisco public health officer was jolted awake by an urgent 7:39 a.m. text message from his boss.
“Can you set up a call with San Mateo and Santa Clara health officers this a.m., so we can discuss us all getting on the same page this week with aggressive actions, thanks,” said the message from Dr. Grant Colfax, director of San Francisco’s Department of Public Health.
Advertisement
“Will do, getting up now,” Aragón responded.
It was March 15, two days before St. Patrick’s Day, a heavy partying holiday and nightmare scenario for public health officials.
The novel coronavirus was spreading stealthily across the San Francisco Bay Area and public health officials were alarmed by the wave of deaths in Italy and elsewhere around the globe. Silicon Valley would be next, case counts indicated.
Until then, they had primarily focused on banning mass gatherings. But they knew more had to be done — and wanted to present a united front.
Within a few hours of the text, Bay Area public health leaders jumped on a series of calls to debate options, including the most dramatic — a lockdown order that would shutter businesses, isolate families and force millions of residents to stay home.
They decided they had no choice. And they were able to move swiftly because they had a secret weapon: a decades-long alliance seeded in the early days of the AIDS epidemic that shields them from political blowback when they need to make difficult decisions.
Together, they would issue the nation’s first stay-at-home order, probably saving thousands of lives and charting the course for much of the country. Three days later, Gov. Gavin Newsom followed with his own order for California. New York came next, as have dozens of states since.
Advertisement
“This was one exhausting and difficult day for all of us,” Aragón later wrote in his journal. “We all wish we did not have to do this.”
Now, as officials nationwide weigh how to lift isolation orders as the rate of COVID-19 transmission slows — and protests against the orders mount — the Bay Area is again poised to lead, but with a warning: All of this could be for naught if it isn’t done right.
::
The coalition of county public health officers didn’t set out to lock down the Bay Area that fateful Sunday morning in mid-March. But as they discussed the exponential increase in Santa Clara County cases, where the hospitals were becoming overwhelmed by infected patients falling ever sicker, what they needed to do “started to crystallize,” said Dr. Sara Cody, the county’s public health officer.
“It felt huge to me,” she recalled, “because I knew how disruptive it would be.”
Elsewhere in the region, diagnosed cases were sparse. But decades of experience had shown the health officers that while they represent different jurisdictions, they are one region when it comes to infectious diseases.
“We knew that it would be a matter of time before that was our experience,” said Dr. Matt Willis, Marin County’s public health officer, who contracted COVID-19 days later.
Cody told her colleagues that Italy was under siege, and her county was just two weeks away from a similar fate. If she could have locked down sooner, she told them, she would have.
California How Silicon Valley became California’s epicenter of the coronavirus The drivers of Santa Clara County’s economy — tech companies, foreign travel and close human interaction — made it a ripe target for the coronavirus.
“That was compelling,” said Dr. Lisa Hernandez, the public health officer for the city of Berkeley, which had not yet recorded any cases of community transmission. “We knew there was going to be St. Patrick’s Day parades and celebrations, so the timing was critical.”
Dr. Scott Morrow, California’s longest-serving public health officer, who heads operations in San Mateo County, said he also felt the urgency. “We thought, ‘Yes, the clock is ticking,’” he recalled.
County health officers in California have immense power to act independently in the interest of public health, including the authority to issue legally binding directives. They don’t need permission from the governor or mayors or county supervisors to act.
Even for this group, though, with all its collective strength, telling millions of Californians to shelter in place seemed risky at first. But the health officers involved had grown to trust one another, even if they don’t always see eye to eye.
For instance, they currently disagree on whether to require residents to wear face coverings. Some counties, including San Francisco and Marin, are requiring them in public, while others, like Santa Clara, are not.
On the first Sunday morning call, Aragón floated the idea of developing a coordinated recommendation that Bay Area residents stay at home. By the next confab, Cody, Santa Clara County’s health official, made the case that for social distancing to work, it had to be an order.
“Sara Cody was the courageous leader!” Aragón later wrote in his journal.
So forceful a move can be unpopular, but evidence shows it can also be the most effective, in the absence of treatment or a vaccine. “Here’s the rub on these methods — they only work if you do it really early,” said Dr. Howard Markel, a medical historian at the University of Michigan and an expert on the 1918 flu pandemic.
“When you do a quarantine, you stop the commerce, you stop the flow of money,” he said. “But on the other side of that are those whose lives are saved.”
::
This isn’t the group’s first pandemic. The alliance, formally called the Assn. of Bay Area Health Officials, was born in 1985 in the early days of the AIDS epidemic.
Dr. David Werdegar, who became health officer for San Francisco that year, was analyzing AIDS data for surrounding counties and asked their health officers to join him for dinner at Jack’s, an old bordello-turned-political hangout in the city that has since shuttered.
Most of the infectious disease research was happening in San Francisco at the time, but HIV was spreading, and one city couldn’t fight it alone.
“It was important that we share all the information we had,” said Werdegar, now in his 80s and retired.
Dr. Robert Melton, a former Monterey County health officer, said that working for nearly two decades with Bay Area public health giants taught him tremendous lessons. “Camaraderie is important in maintaining the energy to be able to focus on the common good, through good and bad,” he said.
That close-knit relationship among the 13 health officers — representing counties stretching across a large swath of Northern California, from Napa to Monterey — continues to this day. Collectively, their public health actions touch about 8.5 million people.
They meet monthly and communicate regularly on Slack, a messaging app. Their diverse backgrounds and expertise, especially in an era of funding cuts, provide a deep wellspring of public health knowledge. Together, the group has joined forces to combat youth vaping, air pollution and measles outbreaks.
And they have also tackled various influenza scares, which is why they had an emergency response blueprint at the ready when cases of what would later be called COVID-19 first cropped up in Wuhan, China.
“We spent a couple years as a region thinking about pandemic planning, and that really helped us come a long way thinking about these policies for COVID-19,” said Dr. Erica Pan, the interim health officer for Alameda County.
So when they jumped on the call that Sunday, they were already in mid-conversation about how to respond. They brought their lawyers and, working into the predawn hours, translated their lockdown plan into legalese, one that would be enforceable with fines and misdemeanor charges.
They would make prime-time announcements across the region the next day, alongside elected officials. “This is not the moment for half-measures,” said San Jose Mayor Sam Liccardo. “History won’t forgive us for waiting an hour more.”
But they don’t always speak as one. Morrow, who is known affectionately among the group for his crankiness and wry sense of humor, later rebuked residents who weren’t following the orders, saying “you spit in our face and you will contribute to the death toll that will follow.”
And at first, even the stay-at-home order applied just to the “Big Seven” counties surrounding the San Francisco Bay, whose officers peeled off from the larger group to issue it first. They shared their model ordinance with the others, who quickly followed.
Dr. Gail Newel, an OB-GYN and Santa Cruz County’s health officer, is not an infectious disease expert. She has relied heavily on the group’s expertise throughout her career, and especially now.
“It’s this incredible bank of knowledge and wisdom and experience that’s freely shared among the members,” she said. “And the whole Bay Area benefits by that shared knowledge bank.”
::
Roughly one month after they made the unprecedented decision to close the local economy, the risk seems to have paid off. It will be years before researchers have fully analyzed its impact, but officials across the Bay Area are cautiously optimistic. Others haven’t been so lucky.
Though there are important differences between the two regions, New York City, which issued a stay-at-home order four days after the Bay Area, saw its hospitals completely overwhelmed and had recorded more than 14,600 deaths as of Monday.
By comparison, the counties represented by the alliance have documented more than 205 deaths and hospitals haven’t been overtaken by a surge. In fact, hospitals brought online specifically to accommodate an overflow of patients are sitting largely empty.
Even within California, communities that waited to issue lockdown orders have emerged as COVID-19 hot spots, including Los Angeles, where Mayor Eric Garcetti followed suit three days after the Bay Area.
Internally, some of the Bay Area health officials have wondered if they made the right call. But “anytime I have any doubt, I just read another news report from New York or Detroit or New Orleans,” said Dr. Chris Farnitano, Contra Costa County’s health officer.
And the close-knit band is already undertaking its next task: reopening the economy without causing another spike in cases.
Before the orders are lifted, the officials say there must be rapid, widespread testing across the population. They want to hire disease investigators by the hundreds, if not the thousands, to trace the virus and quarantine those who have been infected. And until there is a vaccine, they may ask people to wear masks in public and continue social distancing, even in bars, restaurants and schools when they reopen.
“I was concerned that we might get a lot of resistance and it might get interpreted as alarmist and overreach,” said Marin County’s Willis. “Time has shown that it was really a vital step to take when we took it.”
Hart and Barry-Jester write for Kaiser Health News (KHN), which publishes California Healthline, an editorially independent service of the California Health Care Foundation. KHN is not affiliated with Kaiser Permanente.


latimes--2020-04-21--Chaos and competition for vital coronavirus test could slow reopening of the economy

As debate intensifies about how and when the country can resume regular life , immunity testing widely seen as essential for that reopening is mired in the same competition and chaos that marred earlier diagnostic tests .
“ It ’ s already a case of the continuing wild , wild West , ” said David Relman , a professor of microbiology and immunology at Stanford who is on a White House advisory panel on testing .
“ The sequel is certainly live and in action.
” Dozens of companies have rushed tests onto the market that promise to tell users @ @ @ @ @ @ @ virus , and therefore may have some kind of immunity .
These serology tests , which look for antibodies in blood that have the ability to fight off the virus , are rolling out at a rapid pace both for private individuals looking for hope and clarity , and public health officials increasingly pressured for timelines for reducing social restrictions .
They range from simple sticks that work like a pregnancy test and rely on a few drops of blood , to complex lab tests that use the live virus and can be @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the tests may face much of the same lack of availability as their diagnostic counterparts .
In some cases , the screenings require the same mixing liquids that are in short supply for those earlier tests , potentially sparking another round of fierce competition between states , cities and counties — and even the federal government — all vying for the same limited resources as more places begin immunity testing .
“ We are going to have shortages , ” said Thomas Denny , professor of medicine and global health at Duke University @ @ @ @ @ @ @ North Carolina using a European-made test .
Denny recently spent $ 45,000 on kits to test up to 4,000 people in an attempt to determine how long the virus may have been circulating in his state .
But he is uncertain how quickly he will be able to get more tests for subsequent rounds of bloodwork because of the demand .
“ I think we may be able keep the work going but not with the speed we ’ d like , ” Denny said .
“ This is same problem we went @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” The reliability of the tests is also unknown , creating a marketplace where buyers should beware , with questions of balancing need with uncertainty .
To avoid the seething criticism it faced on red tape and mishaps involving diagnostic testing , the Food and Drug Administration removed many rules for the approval of serology tests .
The result has been more than 90 tests from manufacturers worldwide hitting U.S. shores with little data to back up their claims .
The problems with the tests range from high percentages of false results to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ antibodies mean when they are present in accurate tests .
While most scientists are hopeful the presence of antibodies does bring some immunity , no one yet knows how long it could last or if it ’ s possible to get the virus more than once .
That makes it difficult to know what the tests mean , and how to manage public expectations .
“ Just because you have antibodies doesn ’ t mean you are immune , ” said Michael Gunn , professor of medicine at Duke University .
“ It @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to have figured out what the reliable markers are for true immunity.
” Relman and others said that along with questions about the tests themselves , the federal government has failed to use its muscle to coordinate community testing and supplies , increasing the potential for cutthroat competition .
As with finding ventilators and protective gear for medical workers , President Trump has been clear that it is up to the states to figure out procurement and how they use the tests and equipment they procure .
“ There are things that you @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for providing and that would include standards and guidance , ” Relman added .
“ Those really need to come from the top because you want everyone playing by the same set of rules.
” In the absence of federal help , there is little choice but for states and institutions to forge their own paths as pressure mounts for a return to normalcy , he said .
“ It ’ s like waiting for Godot .
You could sit around waiting for the CDC [ Centers for Disease Control and Prevention ] @ @ @ @ @ @ @ know zip , ” Relman said .
Many states aren ’ t waiting .
On Monday , New York announced its own program to randomly test 3,000 residents in an effort to better understand how far the virus has spread .
Dr. Mark Ghaly , California ’ s secretary of health and human services , said last week the state would move forward with more community testing in coming weeks , though details on where or how have not been released .
“ Thank God California is rich ” in scientific and technical @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for more serology testing .
“ If we are ever going to understand what it means to relax and loosen , modify some of the various orders including the stay at home … you have to begin to understand prevalence and incidence of disease , ” Ghaly said .
But Dr. Bob Kocher , an adjunct professor at Stanford University School of Medicine and a member of Gov .
Gavin Newsom ’ s task force on testing , said the state is being selective as it sorts through the options , and hasn @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on the majority of them .
“ We want to validate them first , ” he said .
Public health officials in places including Santa Clara and Los Angeles are already starting broader pilots of serology testing .
Results released Monday of a first round of testing in Los Angeles found that the virus may have had greater community spread than previously known , a finding mirrored in Santa Clara .
Other medical systems including UC San Francisco and Stanford are also running surveys of patients and workers to provide better treatment and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ immunity .
But each of those surveys are running independently , left to their own devices to choose and purchase tests .
They are making those decisions largely based on their quick research on what works and what doesn ’ t , understanding that what they purchase today may not be available for future rounds of testing because of the competition .
Alan Wu , a professor of laboratory medicine and head of the clinical lab at Zuckerberg San Francisco General Hospital , said his facility is starting a serology testing program for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ an antibody test produced in China .
Though he has vetted the test over the last month , he still has questions because much remains unknown about the virus , including what antibodies mean .
“ The test results I am producing , I don ’ t know if this produces immunity or not , ” said Wu .
But he said he believes that it ultimately provides useful information , even if it is not the “ gold standard.
” Wu is also concerned whether he can continue getting a supply of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ effective , the serology efforts need to retest people over months or longer to determine if they remain immune .
“ The manufacturer is having difficulty getting [ them ] into the United States , ” Wu said .
“ There are only a handful of planes that come in from Shanghai every day.
” Los Angeles is facing the same pressure .
Neeraj Sood , professor at USC ’ s Price School of Public Policy and lead researcher on the L.A. County serology test , said Monday that the county has “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” After that , the county is “ actively looking to figure out how to get the next batch of tests.
” He also is unsure about the reliability of the tests ; currently , the study is using a rapid antibody test from a supplier in Minnesota .
“ We are looking for data from other scientists as well as from federal agencies like the CDC and the FDA , who are actively trying to test these dozens of test kits that are available in the market , to sift out the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” Sood said .
“ So we are waiting for the data to come to figure out which are the best kits to use .
”

Anita Chabria, Emily Baumgaertner, Melanie Mason

As debate intensifies about how and when the country can resume regular life, immunity testing widely seen as essential for that reopening is mired in the same competition and chaos that marred earlier diagnostic tests.
“It’s already a case of the continuing wild, wild West,” said David Relman, a professor of microbiology and immunology at Stanford who is on a White House advisory panel on testing. “The sequel is certainly live and in action.”
Dozens of companies have rushed tests onto the market that promise to tell users whether they have been exposed to the virus, and therefore may have some kind of immunity.
Advertisement
These serology tests, which look for antibodies in blood that have the ability to fight off the virus, are rolling out at a rapid pace both for private individuals looking for hope and clarity, and public health officials increasingly pressured for timelines for reducing social restrictions.
They range from simple sticks that work like a pregnancy test and rely on a few drops of blood, to complex lab tests that use the live virus and can be performed only in high-security settings.
But the tests may face much of the same lack of availability as their diagnostic counterparts. In some cases, the screenings require the same mixing liquids that are in short supply for those earlier tests, potentially sparking another round of fierce competition between states, cities and counties — and even the federal government — all vying for the same limited resources as more places begin immunity testing.
“We are going to have shortages,” said Thomas Denny, professor of medicine and global health at Duke University who has started a pilot program in North Carolina using a European-made test.
Denny recently spent $45,000 on kits to test up to 4,000 people in an attempt to determine how long the virus may have been circulating in his state. But he is uncertain how quickly he will be able to get more tests for subsequent rounds of bloodwork because of the demand.
“I think we may be able keep the work going but not with the speed we’d like,” Denny said. “This is same problem we went through scaling up for the diagnostic testing.”
The reliability of the tests is also unknown, creating a marketplace where buyers should beware, with questions of balancing need with uncertainty.
To avoid the seething criticism it faced on red tape and mishaps involving diagnostic testing, the Food and Drug Administration removed many rules for the approval of serology tests. The result has been more than 90 tests from manufacturers worldwide hitting U.S. shores with little data to back up their claims.
The problems with the tests range from high percentages of false results to a lack of scientific certainty about what antibodies mean when they are present in accurate tests.
Advertisement
Tracking the coronavirus in California The latest maps and charts on the spread of COVID-19 in California.
While most scientists are hopeful the presence of antibodies does bring some immunity, no one yet knows how long it could last or if it’s possible to get the virus more than once. That makes it difficult to know what the tests mean, and how to manage public expectations.
“Just because you have antibodies doesn’t mean you are immune,” said Michael Gunn, professor of medicine at Duke University. “It’s just too early for us to have figured out what the reliable markers are for true immunity.”
Relman and others said that along with questions about the tests themselves, the federal government has failed to use its muscle to coordinate community testing and supplies, increasing the potential for cutthroat competition.
As with finding ventilators and protective gear for medical workers, President Trump has been clear that it is up to the states to figure out procurement and how they use the tests and equipment they procure.
“There are things that you need to depend upon a federal system for providing and that would include standards and guidance,” Relman added. “Those really need to come from the top because you want everyone playing by the same set of rules.”
In the absence of federal help, there is little choice but for states and institutions to forge their own paths as pressure mounts for a return to normalcy, he said.
California Newsom resists pressure to ease California’s coronavirus stay-at-home order Newsom said that while areas across the state have been affected differently by the pandemic, the “virus knows no jurisdiction, knows no boundaries” and could easily spread into neighboring counties if they ease restrictions prematurely.
“It’s like waiting for Godot. You could sit around waiting for the CDC [Centers for Disease Control and Prevention] to figure this out and we would know zip,” Relman said.
Many states aren’t waiting. On Monday, New York announced its own program to randomly test 3,000 residents in an effort to better understand how far the virus has spread.
Dr. Mark Ghaly, California’s secretary of health and human services, said last week the state would move forward with more community testing in coming weeks, though details on where or how have not been released.
“Thank God California is rich” in scientific and technical experts, Ghaly said of the plans for more serology testing. “If we are ever going to understand what it means to relax and loosen, modify some of the various orders including the stay at home … you have to begin to understand prevalence and incidence of disease,” Ghaly said.
But Dr. Bob Kocher, an adjunct professor at Stanford University School of Medicine and a member of Gov. Gavin Newsom’s task force on testing, said the state is being selective as it sorts through the options, and hasn’t yet come up with recommendations on the majority of them.
“We want to validate them first,” he said.
Public health officials in places including Santa Clara and Los Angeles are already starting broader pilots of serology testing. Results released Monday of a first round of testing in Los Angeles found that the virus may have had greater community spread than previously known, a finding mirrored in Santa Clara.
Other medical systems including UC San Francisco and Stanford are also running surveys of patients and workers to provide better treatment and help identify which employees may have some immunity.
But each of those surveys are running independently, left to their own devices to choose and purchase tests. They are making those decisions largely based on their quick research on what works and what doesn’t, understanding that what they purchase today may not be available for future rounds of testing because of the competition.
Alan Wu, a professor of laboratory medicine and head of the clinical lab at Zuckerberg San Francisco General Hospital, said his facility is starting a serology testing program for patients and staff this week that uses an antibody test produced in China.
Though he has vetted the test over the last month, he still has questions because much remains unknown about the virus, including what antibodies mean.
“The test results I am producing, I don’t know if this produces immunity or not,” said Wu. But he said he believes that it ultimately provides useful information, even if it is not the “gold standard.”
Wu is also concerned whether he can continue getting a supply of kits for future testing. To be effective, the serology efforts need to retest people over months or longer to determine if they remain immune.
“The manufacturer is having difficulty getting [them] into the United States,” Wu said. “There are only a handful of planes that come in from Shanghai every day.”
Los Angeles is facing the same pressure.
Neeraj Sood, professor at USC’s Price School of Public Policy and lead researcher on the L.A. County serology test, said Monday that the county has “enough tests to do one more wave.” After that, the county is “actively looking to figure out how to get the next batch of tests.”
He also is unsure about the reliability of the tests; currently, the study is using a rapid antibody test from a supplier in Minnesota.
“We are looking for data from other scientists as well as from federal agencies like the CDC and the FDA, who are actively trying to test these dozens of test kits that are available in the market, to sift out the good ones from the bad ones,” Sood said. “So we are waiting for the data to come to figure out which are the best kits to use.”


latimes--2020-04-21--Students are in 'desperate need' of computers amid coronavirus distance learning

As the school year slips away , state officials are far behind in a race to provide students the computers and broadband they need to continue learning that was interrupted by campus shutdowns due to the coronavirus pandemic .
Although Monday brought some good news from Gov .
Gavin Newsom — that 70,000 computers and 100,000 hot spots have been pledged to date — those figures fall well short of the state ’ s tally estimating that over 400,000 more computers and hot spots are needed .
About 200,000 additional households with students are without computers or hot spots .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ by the California Department of Education .
Other officials and experts as well as other surveys peg the need much higher .
First Partner Jennifer Siebel Newsom on Monday cited estimates that as many as one in five of California ’ s more than 6 million K-12 students — perhaps 1.2 million — lack either connectivity or an appropriate device for remote instruction .
The state estimates don ’ t necessarily count school systems , including L.A. Unified , that hope to be reimbursed after recently dipping into reserves or spending at an @ @ @ @ @ @ @ spots .
The need is staggering , said Linda Darling-Hammond , president of the state Board of Education .
“ It ’ s a desperate need now , it will continue to be a very intensive need , ” Darling-Hammond said .
The same communities of color who need to connect their children to their teachers are also experiencing higher rates of infection and mortality , she added , and can ’ t connect to tele-health services or apply online for benefits and jobs or order groceries online to avoid the risks of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is really a survival issue for families as well as an issue for the education of their kids.
” In one survey conducted earlier this month by the California School Boards Assn.
, 39 % of school districts reported that less than half of students have laptops courtesy of a school or a school partner .
And 50 % said that less than half their students have more than one device with internet access at home — a problem when multiple students or adults need the family computer at the same time .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ the state ’ s school systems took part .
In L.A. County , access both to devices and the internet before the pandemic correlated with income and race , according to a report from USC based on estimates from the 2018 American Community Survey .
Among the poorest fifth of households , only about half had a desktop or a laptop and subscribed to residential broadband .
This compares to about nine in 10 families in the top 20 % of earners .
And “ regardless of income , ” black and Latino @ @ @ @ @ @ @ have the technology they need to learn digitally , according to the analysis .
In announcing a wave of philanthropy Monday as well as corporate donations and discounts , Newsom also acknowledged the shortfall .
“ We continue to need to do much , much more , ” Newsom said .
“ We ’ re not done .
This is the beginning of a process.
” For the briefing on schools , Newsom brought forward Siebel Newsom , who cited recent surveys indicating that 50 % of low-income families and 42 % of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ learning for their children because they don ’ t have a device at home .
“ The fear these parents have that their children will fall behind without internet access and devices is very real , ” said Siebel Newsom .
She added , “ We have your back and will continue to fight for you.
” Also speaking at the governor ’ s daily coronavirus briefing was state Supt .
of Public Instruction Tony Thurmond , who has convened a task force to address the digital divide .
“ Our digital divide @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , ” Thurmond said .
“ It is something that has gone on for decades.
” The current situation presents an imperative to close that gap “ once and for all , ” he said .
The encouraging words from state officials did not placate fears about limited resources among school districts .
“ A lot of focus has been placed on the need for distance learning and we completely agree that that ’ s appropriate , ” said Troy Flint , a spokesman for the California School Boards Assn .
“ But @ @ @ @ @ @ @ have the resources to do distance learning effectively .
The answer to that is no .
“ We need to accelerate even beyond what they ’ ve done in this very short period of time , ” Flint said .
He added that the state is making progress .
The state ’ s campuses shut down abruptly in early to mid-March , with little time to plan what or how to switch to distance learning .
While the state has provided academic guidance , it ’ s provided few material resources .
Schools @ @ @ @ @ @ @ government to pay for computers and broadband are largely still waiting as the end to the traditional academic year approaches .
Sacramento Unified is experimenting with turning seven school buses into mobile Wi-Fi hot spots , hoping literally to roll out the initiative by May 1 .
Newsom hailed that approach as promising — as something that , if it works , other school systems could begin to emulate .
But the state already is about seven weeks into the campus closures .
Los Angeles Unified authorized spending $ 100 million for computers @ @ @ @ @ @ @ purchase higher-priced devices because adequate , less-expensive devices were not available .
Hot spots were not immediately available to many families either , despite the district ’ s willingness to pay for them .
L.A. Unified also faced other challenges : After two weeks , 15,000 high school students , about 12.5 % , had not yet logged on , percentages that have since improved .
On Monday , the number of disconnected high school students had dropped to 3,000 , the district said .
Additional concerns persist .
About 7 % of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ electronically with their teachers every week .
And verifying learning is more complex than tracking who has logged on and for how long , said L.A. schools Supt .
Austin Beutner .
Among the donors highlighted Monday by Newsom were Google , Microsoft , Lenovo , HP , Sprint , T-Mobile , Zoom and Apple , along with individuals including internet entrepreneur Jack Dorsey and foundations including the Chan Zuckerberg Initiative .
Newsom also announced that the California Public Utilities Commission will make $ 30 million available to help school districts provide hot @ @ @ @

Howard Blume, Paloma Esquivel, Sonali Kohli

Tenth-grader Fredy Rubio, 16, center, with his mother, Carolyn Chavez, picks up a laptop at Marquez High School in Huntington Park so he can do schoolwork at home.
As the school year slips away, state officials are far behind in a race to provide students the computers and broadband they need to continue learning that was interrupted by campus shutdowns due to the coronavirus pandemic.
Although Monday brought some good news from Gov. Gavin Newsom — that 70,000 computers and 100,000 hot spots have been pledged to date — those figures fall well short of the state’s tally estimating that over 400,000 more computers and hot spots are needed.
About 200,000 additional households with students are without computers or hot spots. That figure is based on information assembled by the California Department of Education.
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Other officials and experts as well as other surveys peg the need much higher. First Partner Jennifer Siebel Newsom on Monday cited estimates that as many as one in five of California’s more than 6 million K-12 students — perhaps 1.2 million — lack either connectivity or an appropriate device for remote instruction.
The state estimates don’t necessarily count school systems, including L.A. Unified, that hope to be reimbursed after recently dipping into reserves or spending at an unsustainable pace to buy computers and hot spots.
The need is staggering, said Linda Darling-Hammond, president of the state Board of Education.
“It’s a desperate need now, it will continue to be a very intensive need,” Darling-Hammond said. The same communities of color who need to connect their children to their teachers are also experiencing higher rates of infection and mortality, she added, and can’t connect to tele-health services or apply online for benefits and jobs or order groceries online to avoid the risks of going out.
“The connectivity issue is really a survival issue for families as well as an issue for the education of their kids.”
In one survey conducted earlier this month by the California School Boards Assn., 39% of school districts reported that less than half of students have laptops courtesy of a school or a school partner. And 50% said that less than half their students have more than one device with internet access at home — a problem when multiple students or adults need the family computer at the same time.
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The association said about a third of the state’s school systems took part.
In L.A. County, access both to devices and the internet before the pandemic correlated with income and race, according to a report from USC based on estimates from the 2018 American Community Survey.
Among the poorest fifth of households, only about half had a desktop or a laptop and subscribed to residential broadband. This compares to about nine in 10 families in the top 20% of earners. And “regardless of income,” black and Latino students were less likely than others to have the technology they need to learn digitally, according to the analysis.
In announcing a wave of philanthropy Monday as well as corporate donations and discounts, Newsom also acknowledged the shortfall.
“We continue to need to do much, much more,” Newsom said. “We’re not done. This is the beginning of a process.”
For the briefing on schools, Newsom brought forward Siebel Newsom, who cited recent surveys indicating that 50% of low-income families and 42% of families of color are worried about distance learning for their children because they don’t have a device at home.
“The fear these parents have that their children will fall behind without internet access and devices is very real,” said Siebel Newsom. She added, “We have your back and will continue to fight for you.”
Also speaking at the governor’s daily coronavirus briefing was state Supt. of Public Instruction Tony Thurmond, who has convened a task force to address the digital divide.
“Our digital divide has gone on longer than this pandemic,” Thurmond said. “It is something that has gone on for decades.”
The current situation presents an imperative to close that gap “once and for all,” he said.
The encouraging words from state officials did not placate fears about limited resources among school districts.
“A lot of focus has been placed on the need for distance learning and we completely agree that that’s appropriate,” said Troy Flint, a spokesman for the California School Boards Assn. “But what deserves equal attention is whether schools have the resources to do distance learning effectively. The answer to that is no.
“We need to accelerate even beyond what they’ve done in this very short period of time,” Flint said. He added that the state is making progress.
The state’s campuses shut down abruptly in early to mid-March, with little time to plan what or how to switch to distance learning. While the state has provided academic guidance, it’s provided few material resources. Schools that waited for the state or federal government to pay for computers and broadband are largely still waiting as the end to the traditional academic year approaches.
Sacramento Unified is experimenting with turning seven school buses into mobile Wi-Fi hot spots, hoping literally to roll out the initiative by May 1. Newsom hailed that approach as promising — as something that, if it works, other school systems could begin to emulate.
But the state already is about seven weeks into the campus closures.
Los Angeles Unified authorized spending $100 million for computers and hot spots, but had to purchase higher-priced devices because adequate, less-expensive devices were not available. Hot spots were not immediately available to many families either, despite the district’s willingness to pay for them.
L.A. Unified also faced other challenges: After two weeks, 15,000 high school students, about 12.5%, had not yet logged on, percentages that have since improved. On Monday, the number of disconnected high school students had dropped to 3,000, the district said.
Additional concerns persist. About 7% of high school students still are not connecting electronically with their teachers every week. And verifying learning is more complex than tracking who has logged on and for how long, said L.A. schools Supt. Austin Beutner.
Among the donors highlighted Monday by Newsom were Google, Microsoft, Lenovo, HP, Sprint, T-Mobile, Zoom and Apple, along with individuals including internet entrepreneur Jack Dorsey and foundations including the Chan Zuckerberg Initiative.
Newsom also announced that the California Public Utilities Commission will make $30 million available to help school districts provide hot spots and computers.


latimes--2020-04-20--California's unemployment call center is still struggling to process claims

California has expanded phone assistance to those filing unemployment insurance claims during the COVID-19 pandemic , but the state Employment Development Department continues to receive criticism from people who have not been able to get through on jammed lines despite making dozens of calls to the agency .
California Labor Secretary Julie Su acknowledged Monday afternoon that jobless Californians were still having a difficult time reaching live representatives for help with their unemployment claims and said her office is working to resolve the issue .
“ I know that people have continued to have trouble today reaching someone on the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ are still not getting through , ” Su said during a Facebook Live chat in which residents peppered her with 1,500 questions and messages , many of them showing frustration .
The EDD has shifted 1,340 state workers to answer phones and process requests for assistance in response to more than 2.7 million new jobless claims filed in the last month .
Su said Monday that she has heard from some people who have gotten through on the phone line but added , “ I know that is not the experience for the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ now , and I want you to hear from me directly that that is not acceptable and we are going to fix it.
” Gov .
Gavin Newsom announced last week that EDD phone services previously available from 8 a.m. to noon on weekdays would begin operating from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m. seven days a week starting Monday .
While many people are able to file jobless claims online without issue , others have specific problems they are trying to resolve , including addressing denied claims , which require talking to a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ an Orange County resident who lost his job as a salesperson in the steel industry , said he was unable to get through the EDD phone lines Monday to obtain answers about how to arrange a 13-week extension of benefits recently granted by Congress .
“ I have tried to reach the unemployment office for the last three hours .
You can not get through to them , ” said Jaffe , 80 , who says the loss of income is making it hard to pay bills .
Calls by The Times to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a recording that says : “ We are currently receiving more calls than we can answer and are unable to assist you at this time .
Please try again later.
” Alameda resident Eva Cazares , 50 , faced similar frustrations .
She was furloughed by Macy ’ s at the end of March and is trying to get information from EDD about how to update her claim , which was initially denied .
Cazares said she called the line 100 times on Monday and couldn ’ t get through .
“ I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hour straight and still haven ’ t been able to contact anyone , ” she said .
Su said she hears the concerns .
“ I acknowledge that problem .
I own it , ” Sue said Monday .
“ We need to be accessible and we are definitely going to fix that problem.
” In directing the expanded hours for EDD phone services , Newsom said Wednesday that he understands the frustrations of unemployed Californians .
“ Many Californians are one paycheck away from losing their homes or from being able to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ COVID-19 has only made these challenges worse , ” Newsom said .
“ California is focused on getting relief dollars and unemployment assistance in the hands of those who need it as quickly as possible .
”

A surge in jobless claims in California has jammed phone lines to the state’s claims center despite a shift of hundreds of additional workers to answer phones.
California has expanded phone assistance to those filing unemployment insurance claims during the COVID-19 pandemic, but the state Employment Development Department continues to receive criticism from people who have not been able to get through on jammed lines despite making dozens of calls to the agency.
California Labor Secretary Julie Su acknowledged Monday afternoon that jobless Californians were still having a difficult time reaching live representatives for help with their unemployment claims and said her office is working to resolve the issue.
“I know that people have continued to have trouble today reaching someone on the phone center. I know that people are still not getting through,” Su said during a Facebook Live chat in which residents peppered her with 1,500 questions and messages, many of them showing frustration.
The EDD has shifted 1,340 state workers to answer phones and process requests for assistance in response to more than 2.7 million new jobless claims filed in the last month.
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Su said Monday that she has heard from some people who have gotten through on the phone line but added, “I know that is not the experience for the majority of people who are listening in now, and I want you to hear from me directly that that is not acceptable and we are going to fix it.”
1 / 83 Socially distanced bikers and walkers, against a backdrop of the Queen Mary, make their way along pedestrian and beach bike path on the first day that Long Beach reopened the path on Monday May 11, 2020. The city of Long Beach eased a few of its public health restrictions, allowing under certain guidelines the reopening of pedestrian and beach bike paths, tennis centers and courts. Beach bathrooms are also reopening, but the parking lots and beaches still remain closed. (Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times) 2 / 83 Traffic remains light on the southbound 110 Freeway headed toward downtown Los Angeles on April 28. (Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times) 3 / 83 Dominique Barrett, center, known as “King Vader” to his 2.4 million TikTok followers, prepares to shoot a video on April 30 in Glendora. (Dania Maxwell / Los Angeles Times) 4 / 83 Cody Purcell of Redondo Beach rides a wave, glowing from the bioluminescence, in Hermosa Beach, CA, after midnight Friday morning, May 8. (Jay L. Clendenin/Los Angeles Times) 5 / 83 Friends play spikeball, a game perfect for social distancing on an open but restricted San Buenaventura State Beach. (Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times) 6 / 83 The majority of golfers are wearing masks while hitting balls on the driving range at Van Buren Executive Golf Course in Riverside. (Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times) 7 / 83 Beaches including Harbor Cove Beach were open but beachgoers were not supposed to be sitting on the sand. (Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times) 8 / 83 Tango instructor Yelizaveta Nersesova leads a Zoom tango event from her Los Angeles home April 27 that brought together hundreds of dancers from around the world. (Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times) 9 / 83 Grocery store workers, joined by United Food and Commercial Workers International Union Local 770 representatives and community members, hold a rally in support of strict social distancing on May 1 at a Ralphs store in Hollywood where 19 employees have tested positive for COVID-19. (Kent Nishimura / Los Angeles Times) 10 / 83 Mostly masked commuters keep their distance from one another on a Metro bus in downtown Los Angeles on April 29. (Gabriella Angotti-Jones / Los Angeles Times) 11 / 83 Gregory Kuhl, 69, heads home after a shopping trip in Hollywood on April 28. Big cracks in the street, cars parked in driveways blocking sidewalks and uneven pavement levels make navigating his route difficult. (Dania Maxwell / Los Angeles Times) 12 / 83 Tenants and their supporters from across Los Angeles gather at city hall to call on L.A. Mayor Eric Garcetti, the L.A. City Council and California Gov. Gavin Newsom to cancel rent and mortgage payments during the COVID-19 crisis. (Luis Sinco / Los Angeles Times) 13 / 83 Aerial view of over 100 vehicles lined up at the West Valley COVID-19 testing center at Warner Center in Woodland Hills. (Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times) 14 / 83 Senior Mason Wise, left, helps his sister, Mackenzie, a sophomore, clean out her PE locker at El Camino Real Charter High School in Woodland Hills. School officials were allowing no more than five students at a time on campus to take home their belongings. (Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times) 15 / 83 Shuttered storefront businesses in the garment district of Los Angeles. California’s unemployment rate has skyrocketed since the statewide coronavirus shutdown took effect. (Luis Sinco / Los Angeles Times) 16 / 83 Healthcare workers celebrate as Claudia Martinez is discharged from the ICU after she recovered from COVID-19 at Scripps Mercy Hospital in Chula Vista. (Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times) 17 / 83 Carson residents Kaeli Burks, 3, left, and her cousin Bailey Watson, 5, look out the window of their car after their mothers helped them with self-testing at a new drive-up testing site for COVID-19 in Carson. Free COVID-19 testing is available to all city residents thanks to a partnership between the city and US Health Fairs. (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times) 18 / 83 Norm and Tracy Kahn enjoy eating dinner outside on a small cafe table sitting in blue chairs on their side yard during the coronavirus pandemic on April 27 in Riverside. “During this pandemic, eating outside offers us an opportunity to change surrounding and appreciate the calmness of being outdoors among trees, scents from nature and the sounds of birds,” she said. Also adding, “Mixing up where we eat puts variety into our days and takes away the sameness of feeling trapped at home.” (Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times) 19 / 83 Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center nurses carry supplies outside the hospital. (Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times) 20 / 83 Tom Sean Foley pauses on a walk with his kids, Cathelen Claire, “C.C.,” 3, and Timothy Joseph, 4, to take a photo in front of the “Love Wall,” mural by artist Curtis Kulig, outside of Smashbox Studios in Culver City. (Jay L. Clendenin / Los Angeles Times) 21 / 83 Protesters stand along Mission Blvd. in Pacific Beach during A Day of Liberty rally on April 26. The protesters were against the government shutdown due to the coronavirus. (K.C. Alfred / San Diego Union-Tribune) 22 / 83 People make orders at a food truck along Shoreline Avenue in Long Beach. (Luis Sinco / Los Angeles Times) 23 / 83 Medical staff, wearing protective gear, work inside a COVID-19 isolation area inside the emergency department at Los Angeles County-USC Medical Center in Los Angeles, where patients with the virus are being treated. (Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times) 24 / 83 Neighbors practice social distancing while enjoying the nice weather near The Strand in Hermosa Beach. (Gabriella Angotti-Jones / Los Angeles Times) 25 / 83 Counter-protesters attend a protest to call on state and local officials to reopen the economy in downtown Los Angeles. (Christina House / Los Angeles Times) 26 / 83 A group of protesters cheer on cars during a vehicle caravan protest to call on state and local officials to reopen the economy in downtown Los Angeles. (Christina House / Los Angeles Times) 27 / 83 Cedar Mountain Post Acute Rehabilitation staff member Navi Cavaltera waters a flower pot put up by the community to show their support for the nursing staff of the facility in Yucaipa. Eighteen of 20 coronavirus-related deaths in Yucaipa were residents of the skilled nursing facility. (Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times) 28 / 83 A pedestrian wearing a protective mask passes a mural on a store on Melrose Avenue in the Fairfax district of Los Angeles. (Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times) 29 / 83 Jonte Florence, a freestyle dancer, does a handstand on a mostly empty Hollywood Walk of Fame. Florence said he normally performs for hundreds of tourists along the busy street. (Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times) 30 / 83 The Tyrannosaurus rex overlooking the intersection of Hollywood Boulevard and Highland Avenue wears a protective mask while practicing social distancing. (Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times) 31 / 83 Businesses are shuttered and pedestrians are few and far between on Hollywood Boulevard. (Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times) 32 / 83 Daniel Rogerson wears a vintage military gas mask while riding a bike along the beach path in Santa Monica, which is closed to enforce social distancing because of the coronavirus pandemic. (Luis Sinco / Los Angeles Times) 33 / 83 A face mask seller in colorful dress appears to be part of a mural behind a bus stop on Soto Street in Los Angeles. (Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times) 34 / 83 Life around Cesar E. Chavez Boulevard and Soto Street has slowed down as California officials extended stay-at-home orders into May and residents entered Easter weekend with unprecedented limits on their movements. (Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times) 35 / 83 UC Irvine Medical Center health care workers return their gratitude as about 25 Orange County first responder vehicles participate in a drive-by parade of gratitude as they battle COVID-19 at the hospital. (Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times) 36 / 83 Billy Budd, 55, of Hollywood, walks along Hollywood Boulevard with a protective face covering. Budd is a scenic artist for movies and television who is currently out of work due to the coronavirus outbreak. (Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times) 37 / 83 Stuart Reyes and his sister, Stephanie, sell masks for $5 each on the 3000 block of West Century Boulevard in Inglewood. Stuart Reyes said he is selling masks to support his mother. (Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times) 38 / 83 A jogger runs on a closed trail past dozens of pieces of caution tape, torn off by hikers and mountain bikers at El Escorpion Canyon Park in West Hills. (Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times) 39 / 83 Alex Herron and nurse Mercy Pineda at a blood drive sponsored by USC athletics and the American Red Cross at USC’s Galen Center. (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times) 40 / 83 Los Angeles City Hall displays blue lights to show support for healthcare workers and first responders. (Gary Coronado / Los Angeles Times) 41 / 83 After being indoors for several days because of rainy weather and coronavirus stay-at-home orders, Olivia Jacobs, 4, and her mom, Cia Jacobs, enjoy a warm and sunny afternoon making chalk drawings on the sidewalk in front of their home in West Hills. (Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times) 42 / 83 An Oceanview Plaza security guard sports a whimsical mask while on patrol. (Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times) 43 / 83 Jacob De Wilde, left, and Lesli Lytle load a car with food during a food distribution organized to mark Good Friday. (Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times) 44 / 83 As a late season storm continues to make its way across the Southland, a young basketball player dribbles along an alley through an Elysian Park neighborhood in Los Angeles. (Kent Nishimura / Los Angeles Times) 45 / 83 People are silhouetted in a window of an apartment building in Hollywood, where a stay-at-home order remains in effect to help curb the spread of the coronavirus. (Luis Sinco / Los Angeles Times) 46 / 83 The Wilshire Grand Center display blue lights and a heart to show support for healthcare workers and first responders. (Gary Coronado / Los Angeles Times) 47 / 83 Women wear masks as they stroll along Highland Avenue in Hollywood. Wearing masks while outdoors is mandatory in the city of Los Angeles. (Luis Sinco / Los Angeles Times) 48 / 83 Patients are removed from Magnolia Rehabilitation and Nursing Center after 39 tested positive for the coronavirus and nursing staff was not showing up to work. (Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times) 49 / 83 A specimen is turned in at the new mobile testing site for people with symptoms of the coronavirus at Charles R. Drew University of Medicine and Science in South Los Angeles. (Christina House / Los Angeles Times) 50 / 83 Hippie Kitchen in Los Angeles hands out food, water and toiletries to homeless people and residents of skid row. Additionally, masks were offered to help reduce the spread of the coronavirus. (Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times) 51 / 83 Nurses pose for a fun photo during a break in drive-through public testing for the coronavirus at Arrowhead Regional Medical Center in Colton. (Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times) 52 / 83 A woman shows a notice from her doctor that allows her to obtain a test for coronavirus at a new drive-up testing site in a parking lot at the South Bay Galleria in Redondo Beach. (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times) 53 / 83 A person who wishes to remain anonymous strikes from her car to support McDonald’s employees who are demanding the company cover healthcare costs of any worker or immediate family member who gets sick from COVID-19 in Los Angeles. (Dania Maxwell / Los Angeles Times) 54 / 83 Cassidy Roosen, with Beach Cities Health District, holds up a sign that says, “We’re All in This Together,” while waiting to direct cars at a drive-through, appointment-only coronavirus testing location at the South Bay Galleria in Redondo Beach. (Jay L. Clendenin / Los Angeles Times) 55 / 83 Juliann Hartman, center, and her husband, Butch, wave signs they created to cheer up people on Calabasas Road in Calabasas during the pandemic. (Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times) 56 / 83 Grace Carter, 15, of Riverside, practices a dance routine at home after dance classes and school were canceled. She has to use the Zoom app on her iPhone to practice with her dance group. “It’s hard,” she said. “My bedroom is a smaller space. I miss all my friends at the studio.” (Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times) 57 / 83 A man works from his home in Long Beach. (Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times) 58 / 83 A San Bernardino County healthcare worker takes a sample at a coronavirus drive-through testing site at the county fairgrounds in Victorville. (Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times) 59 / 83 A Metro general service employee disinfects a bench in Boyle Heights. (Gary Coronado / Los Angeles Times) 60 / 83 A runner jogs past the Pottery Barn in Pasadena. Some businesses in the area have boarded up their stores. (Al Seib / Los Angeles Times) 61 / 83 Raquel Lezama and daughter Monica Ramos collect meals for their family at Manual Arts High School. Lezama was laid off from her $17.76-an-hour job at a Beverly Hills hotel. (Al Seib / Los Angeles Times) 62 / 83 The Iron City Tavern in San Pedro tries an incentive to lure takeout customers. (Carolyn Cole / Los Angeles Times) 63 / 83 Healthcare workers gather outside UCLA Ronald Reagan Medical Center to call for further action from the federal government in response to the COVID-19 outbreak. (Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times) 64 / 83 Kristen Edgerle, of Victorville, collects information from a blood donor before drawing blood at The Richard Nixon Presidential Library blood drive during the coronavirus pandemic in Yorba Linda. (Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times) 65 / 83 Shauna Jin, of Los Angeles, with her dog, Bodhi, practices social distancing with John Kiss, of Los Angeles, at the entrance of Runyon Canyon Park in Los Angeles. (Gary Coronado / Los Angeles Times) 66 / 83 A lending library had some additional useful items, including a roll of toilet paper and cans of beans and corn, in a Hermosa Beach neighborhood. (Jay L. Clendenin / Los Angeles Times) 67 / 83 Protesters drive by the Getty House, the home of L.A. Mayor Eric Garcetti, in Hancock Park. Tenant advocates are demanding a total moratorium on evictions during the coronavirus crisis. (Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times) 68 / 83 Venice residents Emily Berry and Gavin Kelley take a break at Venice Beach. Berry, a cocktail waitress at Enterprise Fish Co., lost her job due to the coronavirus outbreak. Kelley, a manager at a performing arts school with a focus on music, said that he still has a job and that classes at the school will resume online this coming Monday. (Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times) 69 / 83 The JW Marriott at L.A. Live is sharing a message of hope with red lights in 34 windows, creating a 19-story display on the hotel’s north side. (Gary Coronado / Los Angeles Times) 70 / 83 Juan Diaz Jr., a lifelong Dodgers fan, prays that the season will start by May in front of Dodger Stadium on what would have been opening day. (Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times) 71 / 83 Hayley, CEO and founder of Love My Neighbor Foundation, right, dances with Crystal Armster, 51, while she and her colleagues continue to feed the homeless on skid row amid the pandemic. (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times) 72 / 83 A masked passenger on a Metro bus in downtown Los Angeles. (Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times) 73 / 83 Dede Oneal waits for a coronavirus test at the Crenshaw Christian Center in South Los Angeles. (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times) 74 / 83 A man in a mask passes a closed restaurant along Spring Street in downtown Los Angeles. (Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times) 75 / 83 Artist Corie Mattie paints a mural on the side of a pop-up store as a man takes a picture in West Hollywood. (Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times) 76 / 83 Medical assistant Zoila Villalta works with Rosie Boston, 32, of Glendale, who is donating blood for her first time at L.A. Care Health Plan downtown. (Al Seib / Los Angeles Times) 77 / 83 A couple wait for a bus outside the Petersen Automotive Museum in Los Angeles. (Luis Sinco / Los Angeles Times) 78 / 83 With all Los Angeles schools closed until further notice, LAUSD buses sit idle in Gardena. (Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times) 79 / 83 A lone traveler makes his way to catch a flight in Tom Bradley International Terminal. (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times) 80 / 83 Denise Young looks on as her daughter, Allison, 9, a fourth-grader at EARThS (Environmental Academy of Research Technology and Earth Sciences) Magnet School in Newbury Park, receives a Chromebook. (Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times) 81 / 83 Hollywood Boulevard is devoid of the usual crowds. (Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times) 82 / 83 Michael Ray, 11, plays before a movie at the Paramount Drive-In. (Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times) 83 / 83 Isabella Leader, 15, counts how many flags have been left for World War II veteran Lt. Col. Sam Sachs who was celebrating his 105th birthday at the Mom & Dad’s House, an assisted living facility, in Lakewood. Lt. Col. Sachs appealed to the public for birthday cards after the coronavirus pandemic forced the cancellation of a big celebration and wound up receiving thousands, including a letter and photo from President Trump. (Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times)
Gov. Gavin Newsom announced last week that EDD phone services previously available from 8 a.m. to noon on weekdays would begin operating from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m. seven days a week starting Monday.
While many people are able to file jobless claims online without issue, others have specific problems they are trying to resolve, including addressing denied claims, which require talking to a live EDD representative.
Shelly Jaffe, an Orange County resident who lost his job as a salesperson in the steel industry, said he was unable to get through the EDD phone lines Monday to obtain answers about how to arrange a 13-week extension of benefits recently granted by Congress.
“I have tried to reach the unemployment office for the last three hours. You cannot get through to them,” said Jaffe, 80, who says the loss of income is making it hard to pay bills.
Calls by The Times to the EDD call center were answered with a recording that says: “We are currently receiving more calls than we can answer and are unable to assist you at this time. Please try again later.”
Alameda resident Eva Cazares, 50, faced similar frustrations. She was furloughed by Macy’s at the end of March and is trying to get information from EDD about how to update her claim, which was initially denied.
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Cazares said she called the line 100 times on Monday and couldn’t get through.
“I’ve been on it for an hour straight and still haven’t been able to contact anyone,” she said.
Su said she hears the concerns.
“I acknowledge that problem. I own it,” Sue said Monday. “We need to be accessible and we are definitely going to fix that problem.”
In directing the expanded hours for EDD phone services, Newsom said Wednesday that he understands the frustrations of unemployed Californians.
“Many Californians are one paycheck away from losing their homes or from being able to put food on their tables, and COVID-19 has only made these challenges worse,” Newsom said. “California is focused on getting relief dollars and unemployment assistance in the hands of those who need it as quickly as possible.”
Times staff writer Sarah D. Wire contributed to this report.


latimes--2020-04-22--How do we craft the narratives that will define a pandemic? Look to the numbers

Most of us will never know the name of the first victim of the novel coronavirus .
Nor we will know the last .
With more than 2.56 million cases and 177,000 deaths worldwide , we are awash for the moment in a statistical contagion that continues to spread .
Red dots cover the globe , details lost to the rising tide .
As of this writing , the United States has been hit the hardest .
COVID-19 has claimed more than 45,000 lives , and we have been asked to be prepared for nearly twice that number .
We @ @ @ @ @ @ @ outcomes unknown .
The numbers consume us .
Captured on dashboards , bar charts , straight lines and curves , they record and document the virus ’ reach and force us to ask whether we value one life more than thousands of lives .
Can we grieve for strangers as we grieve for those we know ?
The question has haunted survivors of catastrophes throughout history ( “ Lisbon is in ruins , and they dance in Paris , ” wrote Voltaire in 1755 after one of Europe ’ s most devastating earthquakes @ @ @ @ @ @ @ there is one — lies less in our ability to empathize than in the stories we tell to explain our losses .
Some narratives have already begun to take shape .
Early drafts have been circulated .
Politicians and bureaucracies failed to prepare ; missteps were taken .
Healthcare workers stand on the front line of heroism and fear ; they do their best .
But as we grasp at plausible story lines , something to sustain us , we sense something missing in these familiar tropes .
To blame or glorify isn @ @ @ @ @ @ @ design , Malthusian in its reach , this new virus is writing its own script , following its own imperative : first hitting hard , then drifting away .
For a culture accustomed to following and liking , such behavior is confounding .
Unprecedented is the word often used to describe this moment in our history .
There have been plagues before , but the sum total today — medical crises , plunging economy — is new .
So how do we tell a story that ’ s never been told before ?
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ of creating stimulus packages , building a new world order , but such hope and resolution fail to account for the chaos we ’ ve experienced .
Even as we parse the demographics and narrow in on social disparities , the boundaries of this pandemic remain blurred , and in this blurring — a beginning with no end — lies a terrible lingering .
Today ’ s crisis will provide little resolution .
There will be no dancing in the streets , no celebrations of a vanquished woe .
The story will merely @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the best we can do is follow the numbers .
With solemn recitation , they draw us into the past .
In 1937 , archaeologists , working in central Europe , discovered a notched wolf bone nearly 30,000 years old .
They identified it as a tally stick , a means of remembering a moment in time , a succession of events .
What the 55 marks on this artifact meant , we can not say , but we recognize the impulse : someone looking for a through-line .
Out of the welter @ @ @ @ @ @ @ order , and out of order , we hope to find meaning .
Little wonder that counting is often the first step , tragedy the object of our enumerations .
In her essay “ The Wreck of Time , ” Annie Dillard writes of the flooding that devastated Bangladesh following a cyclone in April 1991 , killing 138,000 people .
That is hard to imagine , she said to her 7-year-old daughter , who disagreed .
“ No , it ’ s easy , ” she said .
“ Lots and lots of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the aftermath of the Civil War , the nation engaged in a ferocious effort to tally the blue dots .
The numbers then were stunning , especially for a country whose population was a fraction of today ’ s : 3,968 killed at Vicksburg ; 3,675 at Antietam ; 3,969 at Chickamauga .
Historians might question such precision , but there was comfort in the mastery of the facts .
Counting helped , says historian Drew Gilpin Faust .
Her elegy to the Civil War , “ This Republic of Suffering , ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Americans , who lost loved ones in battlefields far from home , leaving families unreconciled to the news .
Death in America had had a theatrical familiarity : at home , surrounded by loved ones , prepared and ready to meet God .
But this war and the enormity of these numbers changed that , giving the loss of a father or son a ghostly , faraway demeanor , and a culture was forever changed .
“ One of the words that got used in the 19th century — that was arresting to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ‘ realize ’ that someone was dead , ” said Faust .
Without a corpse , the answer seemed unclear , but by counting , said Faust , you could connect yourself to those who had died .
Counting became such an obsession that Ford ’ s Theatre , the site of Lincoln ’ s assassination , was appropriated for the task .
Then in 1893 , two floors , bearing the weight of documents and personnel , collapsed , killing 22 .
But numbers alone didn ’ t tell the whole story @ @ @ @ @ @ @ : how “ to grasp both the significance of a single death and the meaning of hundreds of thousands , ” as Faust writes .
Eventually the culture adopted two storylines .
One asserted the value of life , and the other questioned that assertion .
One invoked sentimentality — the diaries and daguerreotypes of the killed , wounded and missing — while the other struggled to reconcile these “ sad pictures ” in the face of war ’ s mass brutality .
Today two competing accounts have emerged as well .
Twitter @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and coronavirus doubters believe everyone is overreacting .
The truth lies somewhere between sentiment and skepticism , and for that we turn again to the numbers .
Initially , forecasters estimated that between 100,000 and 240,000 people in the U.S. would die of COVID-19 .
More recently that number was dropped to 60,000 .
But for statistician Edward Tufte , the revision is inconsequential .
“ Almost everything is an underestimation , ” he said , citing suppression and politics in discounting the scope of this tragedy .
“ But the numbers are @ @ @ @ @ @ @ do ” — social distancing , behavior modification — “ even if they are underestimated.
” Tufte , who has written extensively on the interpretation of information , understands how challenging numbers alone can be for those who want a more empathetic connection , but that absence shouldn ’ t minimize the value of these lives .
“ We ’ re walking in their shoes , ” he said of those whose one life now counts among tens of thousands .
“ It is as if we did a brief interview with everyone @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with a number .
We would like more detail , but this tells us about the scope of the problem.
” Statistical lives matter , but numbers alone are not always enough .
Against any catalog of the dead , we must continue to look for the story that will reconcile us to these mostly impersonal deaths .
Perhaps the story we most need to hear is the story we least want to tell .
“ Death is taking a central place in a society that has pushed death from its consciousness , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the mid-19th century , when Americans believed that by contemplating death , one lived life to the fullest .
For modern Americans , she says , “ to live life to the fullest , you don ’ t think about death.
” Such reluctance might be attributed to the urgencies of our lives and an unwillingness to accept the simultaneity of both life and death .
We embrace one and believe we can forsake the other .
Faust argues that we have fooled ourselves into thinking that we have control over our lives @ @ @ @ @ @ @ an ordered society .
“ This pandemic , ” she said , “ shows we control nothing , which is humbling for a society that has not been humbled.
” And avoidance , like denial , will come with a cost , especially if we just pick up where we left off .
Not so long ago , we faced this dissonance , and it began with numbers as unavoidable and disconcerting as those we face today .
More than 1.3 million people died in the war in Vietnam , including 58,318 Americans @ @ @ @ @ @ @ tore through the country , begging for resolution .
In November 1980 , an open competition was announced for the design of a Vietnam War memorial .
Jurors were selected , rules laid out , and a 21-year-old architecture student at Yale submitted her winning proposal .
The Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington , D.C. , succeeds in merging two narratives , making the deaths of each American soldier feel intimate without minimizing the scale of the losses .
Even though its designer , Maya Lin , knew the monument would convey “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ she hoped that it would allow “ each individual to resolve or come to terms with this loss.
” “ For death is in the end a personal and private matter , ” she wrote in her 1981 submission , “ and the area contained within this memorial is a quiet place meant for personal reflection and private reckoning.
” But the memorial is more than an intimate encounter with death .
It is a story of grief that will play out over generations .
Visitors step close and reach out .
They @ @ @ @ @ @ @ as the world sees them — reflected in the polished black marble .
Lin ’ s work is a reminder that death is not anonymous .
Grief transforms us all , no matter the numbers , and that story bears repeating even as the pandemic leaves us counting .

Most of us will never know the name of the first victim of the novel coronavirus. Nor will we know the last.
With more than 3.1 million cases and 217,000 deaths worldwide, we are awash for the moment in a statistical contagion that continues to spread. Red dots cover the globe, details lost to the rising tide.
As of this writing, the United States has been hit the hardest. COVID-19 has claimed more than 58,000 lives, and we have been asked to be prepared for nearly twice that number. We have more than 1 million confirmed cases, outcomes unknown.
The numbers consume us. Captured on dashboards, bar charts, straight lines and curves, they record and document the virus’ reach and force us to ask whether we value one life more than thousands of lives. Can we grieve for strangers as we grieve for those we know?
The question has haunted survivors of catastrophes throughout history (“Lisbon is in ruins, and they dance in Paris,” wrote Voltaire in 1755 after one of Europe’s most devastating earthquakes), and the answer — if there is one — lies less in our ability to empathize than in the stories we tell to explain our losses.
Advertisement
Some narratives have already begun to take shape. Early drafts have been circulated. Politicians and bureaucracies failed to prepare; missteps were taken. Healthcare workers stand on the front line of heroism and fear; they do their best.
But as we grasp at plausible story lines, something to sustain us, we sense something missing in these familiar tropes. To blame or glorify isn’t enough.
Darwinian in its design, Malthusian in its reach, this new virus is writing its own script, following its own imperative: first hitting hard, then drifting away. For a culture accustomed to following and liking, such behavior is confounding.
Unprecedented is the word often used to describe this moment in our history. There have been plagues before, but the sum total today — medical crises, plunging economy — is new. So how do we tell a story that’s never been told before?
We talk of testing and vaccines, of creating stimulus packages, building a new world order, but such hope and resolution fail to account for the chaos we’ve experienced. Even as we parse the demographics and narrow in on social disparities, the boundaries of this pandemic remain blurred, and in this blurring — a beginning with no end — lies a terrible lingering.
Today’s crisis will provide little resolution. There will be no dancing in the streets, no celebrations of a vanquished woe. The story will merely taper off, and for now, the best we can do is follow the numbers. With solemn recitation, they draw us into the past.
Advertisement
In 1937, archaeologists, working in central Europe, discovered a notched wolf bone nearly 30,000 years old. They identified it as a tally stick, a means of remembering a moment in time, a succession of events. What the 55 marks on this artifact meant, we cannot say, but we recognize the impulse: someone looking for a through-line.
Out of the welter of life, we try to bestow order, and out of order, we hope to find meaning. Little wonder that counting is often the first step, tragedy the object of our enumerations.
In her essay “The Wreck of Time,” Annie Dillard writes of the flooding that devastated Bangladesh following a cyclone in April 1991, killing 138,000 people. That is hard to imagine, she said to her 7-year-old daughter, who disagreed.
A child sits among the wreckage of a village devastated by the 1991 cyclone in Bangladesh. (Peter Charlesworth / Getty Images)
“No, it’s easy,” she said. “Lots and lots of dots, in blue water.”
In the aftermath of the Civil War, the nation engaged in a ferocious effort to tally the blue dots. The numbers then were stunning, especially for a country whose population was a fraction of today’s: 3,968 killed at Vicksburg; 3,675 at Antietam; 3,969 at Chickamauga.
Historians might question such precision, but there was comfort in the mastery of the facts.
Advertisement
Counting helped, says historian Drew Gilpin Faust. Her elegy to the Civil War, “This Republic of Suffering,” chronicles the effect of that tragedy upon Americans, who lost loved ones in battlefields far from home, leaving families unreconciled to the news.
Death in America had had a theatrical familiarity: at home, surrounded by loved ones, prepared and ready to meet God. But this war and the enormity of these numbers changed that, giving the loss of a father or son a ghostly, faraway demeanor, and a culture was forever changed.
“One of the words that got used in the 19th century — that was arresting to me — was what it took to ‘realize’ that someone was dead,” said Faust.
Without a corpse, the answer seemed unclear, but by counting, said Faust, you could connect yourself to those who had died. Counting became such an obsession that Ford’s Theatre, the site of Lincoln’s assassination, was appropriated for the task. Then in 1893, two floors, bearing the weight of documents and personnel, collapsed, killing 22.
But numbers alone didn’t tell the whole story, leaving historians with a recognizable problem: how “to grasp both the significance of a single death and the meaning of hundreds of thousands,” as Faust writes.
Eventually the culture adopted two storylines. One asserted the value of life, and the other questioned that assertion. One invoked sentimentality — the diaries and daguerreotypes of the killed, wounded and missing — while the other struggled to reconcile these “sad pictures” in the face of war’s mass brutality.
Advertisement
Today two competing accounts have emerged as well. Twitter tributes celebrate lives lost too soon, and coronavirus doubters believe everyone is overreacting.
The truth lies somewhere between sentiment and skepticism, and for that we turn again to the numbers.
Initially, forecasters estimated that between 100,000 and 240,000 people in the U.S. would die of COVID-19. More recently that number was dropped to 60,000.
A small service was held April 15 at the Angelus Funeral Home in Los Angeles for Charles Jackson Jr., who died from COVID-19. (Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)
But for statistician Edward Tufte, the revision is inconsequential.
“Almost everything is an underestimation,” he said, citing suppression and politics in discounting the scope of this tragedy. “But the numbers are good enough to tell us what to do” — social distancing, behavior modification — “even if they are underestimated.”
Advertisement
Tufte, who has written extensively on the interpretation of information, understands how challenging numbers alone can be for those who want a more empathetic connection, but that absence shouldn’t minimize the value of these lives.
“We’re walking in their shoes,” he said of those whose one life now counts among tens of thousands. “It is as if we did a brief interview with everyone, and they are telling their story with a number. We would like more detail, but this tells us about the scope of the problem.”
Statistical lives matter, but numbers alone are not always enough. Against any catalog of the dead, we must continue to look for the story that will reconcile us to these mostly impersonal deaths.
Perhaps the story we most need to hear is the story we least want to tell.
“Death is taking a central place in a society that has pushed death from its consciousness,” said Faust, who looks to the mid-19th century, when Americans believed that by contemplating death, one lived life to the fullest.
For modern Americans, she says, “to live life to the fullest, you don’t think about death.”
Advertisement
Such reluctance might be attributed to the urgencies of our lives and an unwillingness to accept the simultaneity of both life and death. We embrace one and believe we can forsake the other.
Faust argues that we have fooled ourselves into thinking that we have control over our lives, our ambitions, our sense of an ordered society. “This pandemic,” she said, “shows we control nothing, which is humbling for a society that has not been humbled.”
And avoidance, like denial, will come with a cost, especially if we just pick up where we left off.
Not so long ago, we faced this dissonance, and it began with numbers as unavoidable and disconcerting as those we face today.
More than 1.3 million people died in the war in Vietnam, including 58,318 Americans. Ending in defeat, this tragedy tore through the country, begging for resolution.
In November 1980, an open competition was announced for the design of a Vietnam War memorial. Jurors were selected, rules laid out, and a 21-year-old architecture student at Yale submitted her winning proposal.
The Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C., succeeds in merging two narratives, making the deaths of each American soldier feel intimate without minimizing the scale of the losses.
Advertisement
Maya Lin designed the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington in 1981, when she was a 21-year-old student at Yale University. (Washington Post)
Lin said she hoped the memorial would allow “each individual to resolve or come to terms with this loss.” (John Tlumacki / Boston Globe)
Even though its designer, Maya Lin, knew the monument would convey “the sense of overwhelming numbers,” she hoped that it would allow “each individual to resolve or come to terms with this loss.”
“For death is in the end a personal and private matter,” she wrote in her 1981 submission, “and the area contained within this memorial is a quiet place meant for personal reflection and private reckoning.”
But the memorial is more than an intimate encounter with death. It is a story of grief that will play out over generations.
Visitors step close and reach out. They touch a name and see themselves — as the world sees them — reflected in the polished black marble.
Lin’s work is a reminder that death is not anonymous. Grief transforms us all, no matter the numbers, and that story bears repeating even as the pandemic leaves us counting.