Transcript

Conquering Polio | The Cutter Fiasco | American History Tellers

From American History Tellers · Episode page · Watch on YouTube

· 36 min · 5,972 words · 45 timestamped sections

This is the full, timestamped transcript of "Conquering Polio | The Cutter Fiasco | American History Tellers", an episode of American History Tellers published January 21, 2026 (36 min, about 5,972 words). It mentions 15 people, works and ideas, including National Foundation for Infantile Paralysis, Albert Sabin, Thomas Francis, American History Tellers, Leonard Sheiley.

What this episode is about

The narrative centers around the alarming aftermath of the 1955 polio vaccine rollout, highlighting the case of a young girl named Susan who contracts polio shortly after receiving her vaccination. It explores the complexities and challenges associated with vaccine efficacy, the timing of exposure to the virus, and the broader implications of the Cutter Incident, where a significant portion of the vaccine was contaminated, leading to numerous cases of polio.

Key takeaways

  • In April 1955, a bad timing tragedy turned hope into horror for the first polio vaccine recipients.
  • Sulk's vaccine triumph hinged on community mobilization; success is as much about logistics as science.
  • Rivalry in science: Sabin's live virus versus Sulk's killed virus epitomizes the high stakes of vaccine development.
  • Polio wasn't seasonal; viruses have their own agenda, often outpacing scientific preparation and public health expectations.
  • Even with favorable results, breakthroughs like vaccines can unveil hidden dangers, reminding us that science is an imperfect journey.

Who speaks in this episode?

What is discussed, and when

  1. – 5:00: National Foundation for Infantile Paralysis, Michael and Susan, American History Tellers, Center for Disease Control
  2. – 10:00: Thomas Francis, Basil O'Conor, Albert Sabin, March of Dimes
  3. – 15:00: Walter Winchell, Thomas Francis, Park Davis
  4. – 20:00: Thomas Francis
  5. – 25:00: Basil O'Conor, Leonard Sheiley, Cutter Laboratories
  6. – 30:00: Basil O'Conor, Albert Sabin, March of Dimes
  7. – 35:00: American Medical Association, Albert Sabin, March of Dimes
  8. – 36:09: American History Tellers, Albert Sabin, Albert Sabin, the life of a polio vaccine pioneer

Notable quotes from "Conquering Polio | The Cutter Fiasco | American History Tellers"

  • From Wondery. I'm Lindsey Graham and this is American History Tellers. Our history, your story.
    about American History Tellers · at
  • Result with painstaking precision. And it was done with no money from the federal government. The NFIP single-handedly mobilized the nation in the hopes that modern science…
    about National Foundation for Infantile Paralysis · at
  • National Foundation on his side, he could not escape the scrutiny of his fellow scientists. In June 1953, Albert Sabin's simmering rivalry with Sulk exploded into the open. At…
    about Albert Sabin · at
  • Counties held two-day workshops to train tens of thousands of teachers, doctors, nurses, and local volunteers. Basil O' Conor wrote letters to parents in each of the counties to request permission for their children's participation.
    about Basil O'Conor · at
  • Substantial profits. So with the supply of vaccines secured, in February 1954, Thomas Francis opened the vaccine evaluation center at the University of Michigan. He soon found…
    about Thomas Francis · at
  • On April 4th, 1954, the famous gossip commentator Walter Winchell used his popular Sunday night radio show to attack the salt vaccine. He claimed that the vaccine may be a killer and announced that seven out of 10 tested.
    about Walter Winchell · at
  • Manufactured by Cutter Laboratories in Berkeley, California. And on April 28th, the US Surgeon General Leonard Sheiley persuaded Cutter to recall its vaccine, which had already…
    about Leonard Sheiley · at
  • 1956, the NFIP introduced a new slogan, polio isn't licked yet, but enthusiasm and donations waned. In the late 1950s, Basil O'Conor steered the March of Dimes in a new…
    about March of Dimes · at

Who and what is mentioned in this episode?

People

  • Albert Sabin — Person · Referenced expert (rival vaccine developer) · 5 mentions · first at
    Presented as Salk’s chief scientific rival, criticizing the killed-virus approach and later advancing the live oral polio vaccine as the preferred alternative.
  • Thomas Francis — Person · Referenced expert (trial overseer and evaluator) · 4 mentions · first at
    Leads oversight and statistical evaluation of the 1954 field trials and delivers the definitive 1955 report declaring the vaccine safe and effective.
  • Leonard Sheiley — Person · Referenced government official (decision-maker during crisis) · 2 mentions · first at
    As U.S. Surgeon General, he pressures Cutter to recall vaccine lots and suspends the national vaccination program amid rising cases.
  • Walter Winchell — Person · Referenced media figure (critic/amplifier of controversy) · 2 mentions · first at
    His radio broadcast spreads alarming claims about live virus in vaccine batches, undermining public confidence and reducing trial participation.
  • Michael and Susan — Person · Dramatized case vignette (child patient) · 3 mentions · first at
    A narrative device representing a child who develops polio shortly after vaccination, foreshadowing the Cutter incident and public panic.
    Blank. That certainly seems that way, but we'll have to do a spinal tap to confirm. But how could this happen? She was vaccinated for polio only a few days ago, just this past…

Books & papers

  • Albert Sabin, the life of a polio vaccine pioneer — Book · Primary recommendation · 1 mention · first at
    Upcoming book about Albert Sabin, a key figure in the development of the oral polio vaccine.
    Of our three-part series on conquering polio from American history tellers. In the next episode, I'll speak with Karen Tgaley, an epidemiologist and author of the upcoming book…

Companies & orgs

  • National Foundation for Infantile Paralysis — Company · Business focus · 4 mentions · first at
    Key organization funding and organizing polio vaccine trials, pivotal in the development and distribution of the Salk vaccine.
  • Cutter Laboratories — Company · Case study · 1 mention · first at
    Manufacturer of a contaminated polio vaccine batch leading to the Cutter incident, a major public health crisis.
    Emerged in Illinois, Georgia, and California. So, government investigators sprang into action. They traced the infections back to vaccine lots manufactured by Cutter…
  • March of Dimes — Company · Business focus · 3 mentions · first at
    Successor to the National Foundation of Infantile Paralysis, continuing efforts in children's health.
  • Eli Lilly — Company · Business focus · 4 mentions
    Pharmaceutical company involved in the production of the Salk polio vaccine.
  • Park Davis — Company · Business focus · 2 mentions · first at
    Pharmaceutical company involved in the production of the Salk polio vaccine.
    Manufacturers. He made agreements with pharmaceutical companies Eli Liy and Park Davis to produce the vaccine lots needed for the trials. To scale up production, government…
  • American Medical Association — Company · Referenced expert · 3 mentions · first at
    Organization that endorsed Sabin's oral polio vaccine over Salk's, influencing public health policy.
    Despite Jonas Sulk's protests, in the summer of 1961, the American Medical Association endorsed Sabin's oral polio vaccine, and the federal government licensed it for commercial use. Sabin's.
  • Center for Disease Control — Company · Referenced expert · 1 mention · first at
    Public health organization mentioned as the forerunner to modern CDC, involved in vaccine safety.
    1950s, the federal government had almost no machinery for guiding vaccine development, apart from the rudimentary public health service, the forerunner to the Centers for…

Media & podcasts

  • American History Tellers — Media · Host · 3 mentions · first at
    Podcast presenting the historical narrative of the polio vaccine development and its challenges.

Sponsors

  • Basil O'Conor — Person · Referenced leader (program organizer/funder) · 6 mentions · first at
    As NFIP director, he organizes the massive field trials, manages manufacturers, and clashes with the Surgeon General during the Cutter crisis.

Full transcript with timestamps

Wonder. Imagine it's April 24th, 1955 in Pocutello, Idaho. You and your 7-year-old daughter, Susan, are sitting in an exam room at her pediatrician's office. The room smells of rubbing alcohol and floor polish. You hold your daughter next to you, her face drawn, her arm hanging uselessly by her side. And at last, the doctor enters the room, his gaze fixed on his clipboard. All right, let's see. When did this start? You take a deep breath and run your fingers through Susan's hair, trying to stay calm for her sake. Yesterday, it began with a little neck stiffness, but by nighttime, she had a fever. When she woke up this morning, she couldn't move her left arm. Is this what I think it is? Does she have polio? The doctor examines her quietly, moving her head, tapping her knees, testing her grip. You try to read his face, but it stays blank. That certainly seems that way, but we'll have to do a spinal tap to

confirm. But how could this happen? She was vaccinated for polio only a few days ago, just this past Monday. Was there something wrong with the vaccine? I followed last year's field trials closely. The vaccine is safe. It may not be perfect, but it's not dangerous. So, what happened? Susan was probably exposed to the polio virus just before she received her injection. I'm sorry to say this is just a case of bad timing. The vaccine was unfortunately just too late to protect her. But that doesn't make any sense. I don't I don't know of anyone else who's sick with polio. There have been no other cases in Susan's class. It's April. I've never heard of anyone getting polio this early in the year. Polio season usually starts when it warms up in June. Yes, but viruses don't always follow the calendar, you know. Uh, let's not jump to conclusions.

We We can confirm the diagnosis first and I'll keep a close eye on things. Make sure the Susan receives the best care possible. The doctor makes a note on his chart and then leaves the room. You squeeze your daughter's shoulder and try to give her a reassuring smile, but deep down all you feel is dread. As her eyelids flutter closed, your gut is telling you that something has gone horribly wrong.

from Wondery. I'm Lindsey Graham and this is American History Tellers. Our history, your story. In April 1955, a 7-year-old girl in Idaho came down with polio just days after receiving a polio vaccine. And when similar cases surfaced, health officials began to question whether it was a coincidence or something far more troubling. One year had passed since the National Foundation of Infantile Paralysis executed an unprecedented field trial of Jonas Sulk's polio vaccine. In the spring of 1954, the country held its breath as hundreds of thousands of children known as polio pioneers rolled up their sleeves to receive Sulk's experimental vaccine. It was a logistical triumph with no parallel in American history, requiring the mass production of a carefully formulated vaccine. Teams of doctors, nurses, and volunteers in nearly every state and scientists monitoring the result with painstaking precision. And

it was done with no money from the federal government. The NFIP single-handedly mobilized the nation in the hopes that modern science would finally defeat the era's most terrifying disease. But then the unthinkable happened and scientists scrambled to discover what went wrong. This is episode 3, the cutter fiasco. In the spring of 1953, Jonas Sulk pushed forward with his efforts to develop a polio vaccine made from a killed virus. His Pittsburgh lab now occupied 6,000 square ft across three floors of the city's municipal hospital. It was a bustling operation with dozens of staff members and a colony of 500 monkeys used for developing his vaccine. And it was all made possible by funding from the National Foundation of Infantile Paralysis. Sulk received $400,000 in grants in 1953 alone. And he would need that money because his goal was to start large-scale field trials as soon as his vaccine was ready. But in the early

1950s, the federal government had almost no machinery for guiding vaccine development, apart from the rudimentary public health service, the forerunner to the Centers for Disease Control. So the privately funded National Foundation for Infantile Paralysis stepped in to support Sulk's research. And once Sulks vaccine was ready for field trials, it was the foundation that would control every aspect of the operation with critical support from local communities. And that spring, Sulk felt confident enough with his formula to vaccinate himself and his family. He had three boys under the age of 10, and blood tests showed that after their injections, all three had elevated levels of polio antibodies, and none of them had suffered side effects. Sulk's laboratory staff also received injections. But while Sulk had favorable data and the steadfast support of the National Foundation on his side, he

could not escape the scrutiny of his fellow scientists. In June 1953, Albert Sabin's simmering rivalry with Sulk exploded into the open. At a national meeting of pediatricians, Sabin attacked Sulk's vaccine and ridiculed the public's impression that a vaccine was almost ready for testing. Sabin's primary argument against Sulk's killed virus vaccine was that it contained an inactivated version of an extremely potent strain of polio virus. Sabbin argued that if anything went wrong with the inactivation process, it would be a recipe for disaster. In contrast, Sabbin had spent more than two years working on a live virus vaccine containing a weakened version of a live polio virus, and he insisted his approach was the only viable option. He also condemned the NFIP, declaring that the organization was publicity mad. But Sabin's criticism did nothing to hinder the momentum for Sulk's vaccine. In

November 1953, NFIP director Basil Okconor made the long- aaited announcement that large-scale polio vaccine trials would be held in the spring of 1954. It was a momentous decision. The foundation would be testing an experimental vaccine on hundreds of thousands of children across America. To oversee the trials, Okconor enlisted leading epidemiologist Thomas Francis, who was Sulk's former mentor. Not only would Francis supervise the trials, but he would also evaluate their results at his lab at the University of Michigan. And to do all this, Francis planned a double blind study focusing on children in the first, second, and third grades. Roughly 420,000 children would receive the vaccine in three doses, while 200,000 children would receive saline placeos. Nobody involved would know who got what until the trials were over. A third group of 1.2 2 million children designated as a control group

would receive nothing. And when the polio season arrived in the summer of 1954, scientists would measure the rates of polio in all three groups. The NFIP sought volunteers from a broad range of children from different races representing urban, suburban, and rural populations. And they chose counties that had previously seen high rates of polio and seemed likely to experience outbreaks again. They also focused on counties with public health departments equipped to handle the trials. And after finishing their evaluations, they narrowed the list down to 211 counties in 44 states. The sheer size of these trials demanded extensive logistical planning, and the foundation relied on its large network of local chapters to coordinate support. Each of the 211 counties held two-day workshops to train tens of thousands of teachers, doctors, nurses, and local volunteers. Basil O' Conor wrote letters to parents in each

of the counties to request permission for their children's participation. Downplaying potential risks, he framed participation as a historic act, writing, "This is one of the most important projects in medical history. We feel sure you'll want your child to take part." But he had little trouble convincing parents to give their consent. In the early 1950s, polls showed that public fear of polio ranked only second to fears of the atomic bomb. Americans were desperate for a vaccine that could finally end polio, the most dreaded childhood disease. They also had faith in the power of medical science, and they trusted the NFIP. Many had volunteered for the March of Dimes or donated their money to the organization.

But finding volunteers was not the only logistical hurdle. The NFIP also had to produce enough vaccine doses for the trials. Sulks lab would not be able to handle the required volume on its own. So Okconor turned to commercial manufacturers. He made agreements with pharmaceutical companies Eli Liy and Park Davis to produce the vaccine lots needed for the trials. To scale up production, government experts compiled detailed specifications based on SulkQ's notes and tough quality controls were introduced. Each batch was triple tested by the manufacturer, Sulks lab, and the public health service. It was rigorous and expensive. The pharmaceutical companies needed to cover the costs of manufacturing throughout the trial period. But if the trial succeeded and the federal government approved the salt vaccine for commercial use, these companies stood to gain substantial profits. So with the supply

of vaccines secured, in February 1954, Thomas Francis opened the vaccine evaluation center at the University of Michigan. He soon found himself inundated by questions from the community participants in the trials. Local health officers asked him whether he was certain there was no live virus in the vaccine, and they expressed their fears about potential contamination. Francis worked hard to assuage concerns, but just before the trials were set to begin, a popular radio broadcaster sewed new doubts. Imagine it's early April 1954 in Lancing, Michigan. You're the veriologist in charge of the salt polio vaccine trials, which are scheduled to begin at the end of the month. And with time running out, you're suddenly fighting a new wave of public uncertainty. That's why you're here at the medical practice of Dr. Baker, the president of the Michigan State Medical Society. Baker gives you a look of

recognition as you sink into the wing back chair across from his desk. With a small sigh, he folds his newspaper neatly in half. May I help you, doctor? I hope so. I want to know what the hell you're thinking. Recommending Michigan parents pull their children out of the vaccine trials. Well, what can I say? Walter Winshell hosts one of the most popular radio shows in the country. You can't expect people not to listen when they hear him calling the vaccine a killer. I've been feeling calls all day from spook parents. Walter Mitchell is a gossip commentator. He's trying to create sensation. I mean, he's not an epidemiologist. He doesn't know what he's talking about. The solid vaccine is triple checked while it seems clear that Winchell's so-called reporting isn't even checked once. Well, are you denying that problems were found with the commercially produced vaccine? I admit that a handful of batches failed to pass

extremely rigid safety tests, but don't you see that's a good thing? It's proof of how well the triple testing process is working. Oh, I don't know. I don't see why Michigan children need to be guinea pigs. I'd feel better leaving it to the other states. But we need a large sample size, Dr. Baker. I can't have an entire state pull out of the trials. I don't know what more proof you need. Dr. Sulk has already inoculated hundreds of children in the Pittsburgh area, including his own three sons. Not a single mishap. And I'm glad to hear that, but I can't risk the public's trust. I expected you to know better.

You shove your chair back and walk out of the office, anxiety coiling in your chest. You fear what all this means for the trials. If they're not up and running by the start of the summer polio season, they'll have to be put off for a year, wasting months of effort and putting more American children at risk. On April 4th, 1954, the famous gossip commentator Walter Winchell used his popular Sunday night radio show to attack the salt vaccine. He claimed that the vaccine may be a killer and announced that seven out of 10 tested batches at one facility contained live polio virus that killed several monkeys.

He also claimed that the NFIP was stockpiling little white coffins in the expectation that the trial would cause fatalities. Winshell based these claims on a tip he received from a disgruntled former NFIP associate who had learned that traces of live virus were found in four vaccine lots produced by Park Davis and Eli Lily. But Winshell's broadcast was a gross exaggeration of the truth. The NFIP responded by confirming the tainted batches had been found and eliminated by rigorous safety testing. Thereafter, the NFIP put additional safety measures in place. Manufacturers were required to produce 11 consecutive lots of vaccine that passed safety standards before any could be approved for public use. If even one batch failed, all 10 of the other batches would be discarded. But Winell's broadcast damaged public confidence nonetheless. Several local and state medical societies withdrew their support

and parents pulled roughly 150,000 children out of the field trials. Still, the vast majority of participants trusted the NFIP and planned to continue. So on April 25th, both the vaccine advisory committee and the public health service voted to approve the field trials on the salt polio vaccine. The next day, April 26th, 1954, a group of first graders lined up in the gymnasium of an elementary school in Mlan, Virginia. Cameras flashed as a 6-year-old boy named Randy rolled up his sleeve and became the first to receive an injection. He boasted, "I could hardly feel it." The same procedure was repeated thousands of times over the next several weeks. Each school had a five member volunteer vaccination team which included a doctor, a nurse, a recorder, and two aids. Together, they oversaw identification, consent forms, preparation, injection, and disposal of syringes. But despite meticulous

planning, logistical problems did arise, from children receiving extra or missed doses to doctors stealing vaccines to use on their own families. But nonetheless, by late spring, more than 600,000 children had received an injection with 95% of that number completing all three doses. This unprecedented achievement was a testament to the NFIP's careful planning and publicity and the dedicated involvement of more than 300,000 volunteers. The field trials amounted to the largest peacetime mobilization of volunteers in American history. But with the injections over, now all eyes turned to Thomas Francis, who faced the mammoth task of analyzing the data and determining whether Sulk had finally created a safe and effective vaccine for polio, bringing an end to 40 years of fear.

In the summer of 1954, Thomas Francis and his team in Ann Arbor, Michigan, began evaluating the results of the salt colo vaccine. Every day, bulging mail sacks arrived containing data in the form of letters, telegrams, laboratory reports, and health records. All of it needed to be collected and analyzed by statisticians that Francis hired from the US Census Bureau, as well as dozens of Michigan graduate students. In total, 1.8 million children had participated in the trial. So now a staff of 120 kept records on all of them, constantly updating the files as new information arrived. Much of the data entry was done by hand. But Francis also sent some of it to Detroit to be processed by early IBM computers. But despite intense interest in the outcome of the trials, Francis refused to rush his work, insisting that it would be finished when it's finished. It took a full year to process and interpret the data.

Anticipation mounted in the spring of 1955 as the annual summer polio season approached. But at last, Francis told Basil Okconor that he was ready to release his final report. On the morning of April 12th, 1955, hundreds of reporters and scientists packed a University of Michigan auditorium, eagerly awaiting advanced copies of the report. One journalist described his colleagues as hungry dogs at a garbage pail. And at 9:20 a.m. the news went nationwide when an NBC correspondent went on air and declared, "The vaccine works. It is safe, effective, and potent." Shortly after, Francis stood in the auditorium and delivered a lengthy lecture confirming the vaccine success.

He said that it was roughly 60 to 90% effective in preventing paralytic polio with a degree of success varying based on the type of polio virus. Though he had some caveats about the integrity of the data, the overall conclusion was unmistakable. The Sulk vaccine was a triumph. Next, Jonas Sulk himself took to the stage to a standing ovation. He thanked the school children known as polio pioneers, the NFIP, and Basil Okconor, calling him the one person without whom all of this would not have been possible. He announced that he was already working on improvements for the vaccine, predicting the potential for 100% protection from polio. Later that same day, Edward Aruro of CBS News interviewed Sulk, asking him, "Who owns the patent on this vaccine?" Sulk replied, "Well, the people, I would say.

There is no patent. Could you patent the sun?" This remark came to symbolize the spirit of the polio crusade, a volunteer-driven effort made possible by millions of small donations. All across the country, Americans celebrated their shared victory. School children cheered, church bells rang, and parents wept with relief. Sulk returned to Pittsburgh to a hero's welcome. He was an instant celebrity hailed as the man who conquered polio. He explained that his vaccine had been built on ideas and techniques developed by many scientists before him. And by doing so, he acknowledged the critics who had long insisted that there was nothing novel about the science of his vaccine. But his comments did nothing to diminish his star power. The public credited him for single-handedly defeating polio. And on April 22nd, the White House held a ceremony in Sulk's honor. President Dwight D. Eisenhower fought back tears

as he declared, "I have no words to thank you. I am very, very happy." Eisenhower promised to give the vaccine formula to every country that welcomed the knowledge, including the Soviet Union, and called Sulk a benefactor to mankind. But though it was only hours after the release of the Francis report that the Eisenhower administration approved the Sulk vaccine for commercial use, supplies were still limited. All across the country, pediatricians were inundated with calls from parents demanding that their child be vaccinated. And 10 million doses were released over the next 2 weeks, but most doses had already been promised to first and second graders, the age group considered most vulnerable to polio, and to children who had received placeos in the 1954 trials. This left most American children unprotected as summer approached. So Americans urged the federal government to step in. But the

Eisenhower administration had made no plans to coordinate vaccine distribution. Secretary Ovetta Kulphabi, head of the newly formed Department of Health, Education, and Welfare admitted as much. Many Americans reacted with disbelief when she told the Senate committee, "I think no one could have foreseen the public demand." Letters flooded the White House, calling her incompetent and heartless, and editorials demanded her resignation. But Secretary Javi and her colleagues in the Eisenhower administration insisted that the government's only role was to license the vaccine, not to distribute it. In the 1950s, at the dawn of the Cold War, even limited government intervention in the health industry sparked accusations of socialism, and the pharmaceutical companies warned that government control of distribution would stifle innovation. But with supplies of the vaccine falling short of demand,

price gouging became common. And although each shot cost $2, some doctors charged as much as $20 for a vaccination. Americans blamed Washington for the shortages, high prices, and poor planning. Even Republican newspapers that supported the Eisenhower administration demanded federal leadership to safeguard their children. One editorial affirmed, "This is an emergency answer to an emergency situation, not a step towards socialized medicine." Eisenhower responded to this public outrage by agreeing to a temporary federal role in vaccine distribution. But meanwhile, problems began to surface with a shift to mass production. On April 24th, an Idaho doctor diagnosed a 7-year-old girl with polio. She had received the salt vaccine earlier that week. 3 days after being brought in, she was dead. Similar cases emerged in Illinois, Georgia, and California. So, government investigators sprang into action. They traced the

infections back to vaccine lots manufactured by Cutter Laboratories in Berkeley, California. And on April 28th, the US Surgeon General Leonard Sheiley persuaded Cutter to recall its vaccine, which had already been administered to 400,000 children. As this investigation unfolded, public panic spread. The New York Times declared, "The nation is now badly scared. Millions of parents fear that if their children don't get the vaccine, they may get polio. But if they do get the vaccine, it might give them polio. And by April 29th, 26 cases had been confirmed, prompting cities to halt vaccinations altogether. When the count reached 44 on May 7th, the surgeon general faced an impossible choice.

Imagine it's late at night in May 1955 in Washington DC. You're the US Surgeon General and you're in your office at the public health service. You've just received the latest numbers of polio cases traced back to cutter labs. You've been fielding calls all night from scientific experts, drug manufacturers, and panicked state health departments. You never imagined such a nightmare scenario. Children falling sick from the very vaccine meant to protect them. You straighten up in your chair, bracing yourself as Basil O' Conor barges into your office, raw anger written all over his face. All right, give it to me straight. What are you planning to do?

You close your eyes in disbelief, letting out a long sigh. Uh, Mr. O' Conor, I see it wasn't enough to call me half a dozen times today. Well, I haven't gotten an answer. My advisers are urging me to pause the entire national vaccination program. Oh, you can't be serious. Do I look like I'm joking? I've got reports of 44 people with polio, all because of this vaccine. 44 is nothing compared to the millions who've received the vaccine with no problem. You can't punish the entire country just because of one sloppy laboratory. If you stop the program now, you'll be putting millions of children at risk of getting polio this summer.

But the consequences of letting the inoculations continue might be worse. Oh, no one is getting polio from any of the vaccines made by the other companies. God, I could have you fired, you know. Do I really need to explain that you have no authority over me? This isn't your foundation's call anymore. The government licensed this vaccine and that means the government is in charge of making sure the vaccine is safe. I cannot risk jeopardizing the public's trust. So, I'm going to suspend the program. Okconor shakes his head, his face bright red. Oh, you making a mistake. Telling you, you're going to regret this.

Okconor turns and storms out of your office. And as you face the likelihood of another sleepless night, a small part of you wonders if Okconor is right. But you know, you can't sit back and allow a man-made polio epidemic spiral out of control. As incidents of polio in vaccinated children climbed, experts urged Surgeon General Leonard Sheiley to stop the vaccinations. Basil O'Conor furiously disagreed, going so far as to threaten to have Sheilei fired. Nevertheless, on May 8th, 1955, Sheilei went on national television and announced that the government was temporarily suspending the entire polio vaccination program, pending a review of all six manufacturers. It was a stunning turnaround less than a month after the vaccine was declared a success. The New York Times affirmed that the air victory surrounding the vaccine had quickly devolved into confusion, conflict, and doubt. Fingers were pointed in every

direction. Democrats attacked the Eisenhower administration for negligence with one senator insisting that meat was tested more carefully than the polio vaccine. Basil O' Conor furious that his crusade had been tarnished condemned both the government and the drug companies and Jonas Sulk blamed the manufacturers for failing to carefully follow his exact specifications. Sulk was devastated by the damage done by a vaccine that bore his name and adding insult to injury, colleagues he admired publicly accused him of quack medicine.

He later confessed, "This was the first and only time in my life that I felt suicidal. There was no hope. No hope at all." For many researchers, what became known as the Cutter incident confirmed their long-standing fears that Basil O'Conor had allowed publicity and fundraising to take precedence over scientific rigor. But one man felt vindicated by the fiasco. Albert Sabin, who had long doubted the safety and efficacy of Salt's killed virus vaccine. For months, Sabin had watched as the country heaped praise on a man he considered little more than a kitchen chemist. He believed that America's children needed a safer alternative and was determined to be the man to offer them one.

In midMay 1955, the surgeon general allowed vaccinations to resume following careful inspections of all production facilities. But the public was still nervous about the deadly error in the vaccine. In the end, roughly 200 cases were traced back to six contaminated vaccine lots at the laboratory in Berkeley, California. The victims included vaccinated children along with family and community contacts. Most were severely paralyzed while 11 people died. Investigators concluded that technicians at Cutter Labs in Berkeley had not adequately followed the strict safety protocols developed by Jonas Sulk. They had allowed virus mixtures to sit too long in storage which permitted particles to clump together and shielded them from the formaldahhide used to kill the virus. Their negligence allowed live polio virus to get into six slots of the vaccine. And as a result of the tragedy, manufacturers were now required to

filter the virus liquid just before adding the formaldahhide. It was one of several new rules and safety tests introduced in the wake of the fiasco. These reforms prevented a repeat of the cutter incident, but it would take time to repair public trust. In the summer of 1955, several state and local health departments refused to administer the vaccine, insisting that starting the process that far into the polio season was not worth the risk. But that summer, Boston and Chicago saw major polio outbreaks. In the end, there were 28,000 reported cases in 1955. Experts believed most of the cases could have been avoided. And for many Americans, the cutter incident was proof of the need for greater government oversight of public health. And the next few years saw a major expansion in the federal health bureaucracy. Vaccine testing became a major function of the National Institutes of Health, and the NIH budget

soared from $81 million in 1955 to $400 million in 1960, marking a shift from private to government-ledd medical research. The 1954 polio field trial would be the last to be run entirely by a private organization. Public scrutiny also extended to the NFIP. Many blame Basil Oconor's aggressive campaign for rushing an unsafe vaccine. Some scientists argued that polio had been exaggerated as a national menace, and journalists began questioning why a disease that was far less deadly than cancer and heart disease dominated public donations. The cutter incident also had consequences for cutter labs.

They would pay out millions of dollars in damages to the victims of the botched vaccine lots with Sulk frequently testifying on the victim's behalf. But with improvements in testing, Sulk's vaccine proved to be safe and highly effective. Polio cases plummeted in the late 1950s from 28,000 in 1955 to 15,000 in 1956 to just 7,000 cases in 1957. The disease no longer caused widespread fear. Swimming pools reopened in the summer of 1956 and newspapers stopped printing daily tallies of polio victims on their front pages. Still, gaps remained. Many lowerincome children went unvaccinated, turning polio into a disease of the underprivileged. So in 1956, the NFIP introduced a new slogan, polio isn't licked yet, but enthusiasm and donations waned. In the late 1950s, Basil O'Conor steered the March of Dimes in a new direction beyond polio, focusing on prenatal care and other children's health issues. It continues

to this day. But the cutter incident also had far-reaching implications for the field of polio research, shifting focus from the kill virus vaccine to a live virus alternative. Albert Sabin received growing media attention for his argument that instead of killing an extremely virilent strain of virus, vaccines should be made from a live virus that is non-virulent to begin with. Sabin had been working away on his vaccine since 1951. His research progressed slowly because the process of weakening live polio viruses was far more complex than killing them. As one science writer explained, it's the difference between slaughtering an ox and breeding from it, between ringing a parrot's neck and teaching it to talk.

Sabin spent years conducting painstaking experiments to keep the virus strong enough to produce an immune response, but weak enough not to cause polio. The result was the oral polio vaccine administered in the form of a drop or a sugar cube given by mouth, making it cheaper and easier to manufacture and administer. It also had the benefit of following the same path through the digestive system as the naturally occurring polio virus. And Sabin believed that a single dose would guarantee protection for life without the need of multiple injections or boosters. In the winter of 1954 to 1955, while the country was waiting for the results of the Sulk field trials, Sabin tested his vaccine on himself, his daughters, and 30 prisoners in Ohio in exchange for $25 and time off their sentence. experiments were success, but with the Sulk vaccine in wide use in the late 1950s, the country had little interest in conducting another

large-scale field trial. So instead, Sabin turned to a surprising ally, the Soviet Union. Despite the ongoing cold war, US Soviet relations had thawed following the death of Joseph Stalin, and Washington's expanding science bureaucracy pushed for greater international collaboration. In a massive 1959 field trial, Sabin's oral vaccine was administered to 10 million Soviet children. Independent review by the World Health Organization declared the trial a success. The oral vaccine was cheap, safe, and easy to administer, and it soon became the world's polio vaccine of choice.

Crumbling support for Sulks vaccine. Imagine it's July 1961 in New York City. You're the scientific director of the American Medical Association and you're walking through a hallway in the New York Coliseum where the AMA is holding its national convention. In a few minutes, you're scheduled to deliver a presentation and you're silently running through your notes. As you round a corner, though, a tap on your shoulder stops you in your tracks. You turn around and find yourself face to face with Jonas Sulk. Hey, excuse me. Do you have a moment? You glance at your watch and then shake your head. Oh, not really, Dr. Sulk. This won't take long.

I just want to know why the AMA voted to endorse Albert Sabin's vaccine over mine. Since when did this organization start weighing in on scientific debates? Well, we needed to pick a side. Doctors are confused about the competing vaccines. They wanted guidance and clarity from an unbiased source. Well, the [clears throat] AMA is hardly unbiased. I can name a halfozen of your colleagues who are friendly with Sabin. This this reeks of favoritism. Well, there's plenty of evidence that Sabin's oral vaccine is both more effective and more easily administered than your vaccine. It's based on evidence, not favoritism. There's nothing wrong with my vaccine. The only problem is it hasn't been used enough. Recent outbreaks all took place in neighborhoods with low vaccination rates. You know, this is a social problem, not a scientific one. But the AMA has continually refused to promote mandatory vaccination of my formula.

Seems to me that you and your colleagues have blood on your hands. Hearing this, you ball your hands into fists, your anger rising. Now, Dr. salt. Sabin's live virus formula has the overwhelming support of researchers in the field. It's as simple as that. Nothing about this is simple. If the AMA won't see reason, I'll just have to go to the surgeon general and convince him not the license savings formula. Oh, Dr. Sulk, you're facing a losing battle. I think it's time you accept that your vaccine is a relic of the past. Now, please, if you'll excuse me, you push past Sulk and hurry off to your presentation. Saul can rage all he wants, but you won't be swayed. His fame doesn't make him immune to scientific scrutiny. And as far as you're concerned, his command over the polio crusade is over.

Despite Jonas Sulk's protests, in the summer of 1961, the American Medical Association endorsed Sabin's oral polio vaccine, and the federal government licensed it for commercial use. Sabin's vaccine became the dominant polio vaccine in America for the next three decades. Sulk's son Peter later reflected on his father's refusal to accept defeat, declaring this was so terribly painful, so personally insulting to him as a scientist that he couldn't let it go. It's no exaggeration to say that it haunted him for the rest of his life. Still, together, the Sulk and Sabin vaccines brought an end to polio in the United States and throughout much of the world. The last case of polio was reported in the US in 1979. In the 21st century, the virus is only endemic in Afghanistan and Pakistan. Experts predict that polio will follow smallox and becoming the second infectious disease to be eradicated worldwide. The crusade

against polio stands as one of America's greatest public health victories. For two decades, the March of Dimes harnessed the power of mass media and grassroots fundraising to unite the nation in a common cause. The vaccine research it funded led to the defeat of a dreaded disease and ushered in a new era of government leadership in public health. So that today what was once one of the most feared diseases in the United States exists only in memory. A remarkable achievement made possible by the collective actions of millions of Americans bound by a shared civic responsibility and an unwavering faith in the power of scientific progress from Wondery. This is the last episode of our three-part series on conquering polio from American history tellers. In the next episode, I'll speak with Karen Tgaley, an epidemiologist and author of the upcoming book Albert Sabin, the life of a polio vaccine pioneer due to hit

shelves in June 2026. American History Tellers is hosted, edited, and produced by Ni Lindsey Graham for Airship. Audio editing by Muhammad Shazi. Sound design by Molly Bach. Music by Thrum. This episode is written by Ellie Stanton. Edited by Dorian Marina. Managing producer Desi Bllelock. Senior producers Alita Rosanski and Andy Beckerman. Executive producers are Jenny Lowour Beckman and Marshall Louie for Wondery.

Questions about this episode

Who speaks in "Conquering Polio | The Cutter Fiasco | American History Tellers"?

Lindsey Graham (Host), Karen Tgaley (Guest), Jonas Sulk (Guest), Albert Sabin (Guest), Basil O'Conor (Guest), Walter Winchell (Guest), Leonard Sheiley (Guest).

What is "Conquering Polio | The Cutter Fiasco | American History Tellers" about?

The narrative centers around the alarming aftermath of the 1955 polio vaccine rollout, highlighting the case of a young girl named Susan who contracts polio shortly after receiving her vaccination. It explores the complexities and challenges associated with vaccine efficacy, the timing of exposure to the virus, and the broader implications of the Cutter Incident, where a significant portion of…

What is mentioned in this American History Tellers episode?

15 people, works and ideas are mentioned, including National Foundation for Infantile Paralysis, Albert Sabin, Thomas Francis, American History Tellers, Leonard Sheiley, Cutter Laboratories. Each one on this page links to its own page with every episode that mentions it.

How long is "Conquering Polio | The Cutter Fiasco | American History Tellers"?

The episode runs 36 min; the transcript is about 5,972 words in 45 timestamped sections.

More from American History Tellers

About this transcript: the episode's spoken words as captioned on YouTube, split into timestamped sections. Reclip.Me locates every person, work and idea in the text, keeps the time it is first named, and quotes the words around it verbatim. Last updated January 24, 2026.