1900 - Galveston's "Great Storm"

[Bianca]

                                     Memories of killer 1900 storm haunt Galveston ahead of Ike






by Kate Murphy
Thu Sep 11, 2008
 
GALVESTON, Texas (AFP) - Residents here are warily following the progress of Hurricane Ike -- currently bearing down on the Texas Gulf coast -- mindful of the anniversary this month of a storm that devastated the island city in 1900.
 
Galveston's history of barely surviving the "Great Storm" of 1900 makes residents inclined to prepare for the worst.

The 1900 hurricane produced a storm surge that submerged Galveston and killed 6,000 people.

News reports and letters written at the time told of bodies washing ashore and stacking up on the beach like driftwood, then attracting clouds of black flies. With food and water in short supply, vigilantes shot and lynched looters and those suspected of looting.

"For those of us who had relatives who survived the Great Storm and heard the stories and saw the photographs -- we are very aware of the lessons learned," said Galveston Mayor Lyda Ann Thomas.

"It informs and has led to a high level of preparedness here even today," said Thomas, whose grandparents lived through the 1900 storm.

City officials have already been testing back-up generators and mobilizing police to patrol evacuation routes.

The Port of Galveston has been helping its tenants, which include Del Monte Fresh Produce, ADM Grain and Holcim Cement, to move cargo inland and secure loose items that could become projectiles in hurricane force winds. The port is also home to several ship and offshore rig repair yards.

Preparations for the hurricane started early, said Steven Cernak, the Port of Galveston's director and CEO. "We don't want any hiccups."

The University of Texas Medical Branch at Galveston, the city's largest employer, also begun disaster preparations.

The university has stockpiled dry ice, and every department has been warned they might have to lock down research sites, postpone surgeries and ready patients for evacuation.

"It's not only the memory of the Great Storm but what happened after Katrina," said UTMB spokesperson Marsha Canright. "We had a number of doctors and nurses who went to New Orleans and saw what happened to the medical facilities there and that is just not going to happen here."

Galveston also has a 90-day cash reserve to begin recovery efforts immediately after a storm rather than having to wait like New Orleans for the federal government to release funds. The city was also able to push through a state law that allows it to borrow up to 20 million dollars to rebuild without a voter referendum.

Additionally, Galveston has contracted with private companies like Home Depot and Wal-Mart to bring in provisions and building supplies after a hurricane. Carnival Cruise line has also committed to provide one of its passenger ships in the event it is needed for emergency housing.

"Because of The Great Storm we have a great respect for the devastation a hurricane can bring," said Gina Spagnola, president of the Galveston Chamber of Commerce. "We're constantly looking at how we can be more prepared."

The Chamber has published an extensive guide on things businesses should do ahead of a storm, like backing up data files and storing them off-site.

During hurricane season Galveston residents tend to keep their gas tanks full in case they need to quickly evacuate and their cupboards stocked with water, food, candles and batteries.

Among them is Shrub Kempner, an investment manager and native islander whose ancestors weathered the 1900 hurricane.

"Memories are long here and that makes us take storms very seriously," he said.

[Bianca]

                             

                               Texas State Library Photo







                    T H E   1 9 0 0   S T O R M   -   G A L V E S T O N   I S L A N D ,   T E X A S   





REMEMBERING THE GREAT HURRICANE                                                       A GALVESTON COUNTY

           SEPTEMBER 8, 1900                                                                 DAILY NEWS PRESENTATION






                                                    S T O R Y    U N T O L D






 
The story of Galveston's tragedy can never be written as it is.

Since the cataclysm of Saturday night, a force of faithful men have been struggling to convey to humanity, from time to time, some of the particulars of the tragedy.

They have told much, but it was impossible for them to tell all, and the world, at best, can never know all, for the thousands of tragedies written by the storm must forever remain mysteries until eternity shall reveal all.

Perhaps it were best that it should be so, for the horror and anguish of those fatal and fateful hours were mercifully lost in the screaming tempest and buried forever beneath the raging billows.

Only God knows, and for the rest let it remain forever in the boundlessness of His omniscience.

But in the realm of finity, the weak and staggered senses of mankind may gather fragments of the disaster, and may strive with inevitable incompleteness to convey the merest impression of the saddest story which ever engaged the efforts of a reporter.




- As published

Sept. 13, 1900,

in The Galveston Daily News

[Chastity]

That was one hell of a hurricane, Bianca!  I think it left over 20,000 people dead.  They had bodies in the town for weeks.  At one point, they had so many bodies that they tried to tie them all to a raft and push them out to sea, only to have the raft come back again. 

Grisly!!!

See that documentary, "Isaac's Storm," tells all about it.

[Bianca]

So true, Chastity!

I get all chocked up when I read about it, but it must be told and retold, so that it may never
happen again - just like Katrina.

Thankfully it seems at least the evacuation is about 90%.  This IKE  is a monstrous size. The winds
don't seem to be so bad, but the water surge is already terrific.  I am in St. Petersburg, Florida and
already this morning, our water level (Gulf Side) was way over the normal.  And we are only getting
the effect of the very outer bands......

I have not seen the documentary, but I would greatly appreciate it if somebody could try to find
a copy and put it here.

Let us send prayers and/or love and light to all who will be affected.

[Bianca]

                                   

                                           Courtesy of Rosenberg Library









                           One night of terror became a lasting part of Galveston's identity


 
 

 
 
By HEIDI LUTZ
The Daily News

A Galveston Daily News reporter in 1900 said the story of the Sept. 8, 1900, hurricane could never truly be written.

Linda Macdonald's grandfather said nothing could ever make him forget the sounds of that night.

And for many, no words could ever be spoken again about the deadly hurricane that reshaped the Gulf Coast forever.

As Galvestonians and the rest of the country mark the centennial of the deadliest hurricane in U.S. history, its story continues to linger in the minds of virtually everyone who lives along a coast. It is the reminder of what can happen when the winds blow and the tides rise along the hurricane-prone coasts of America.

Its tale of death, devastation and eventual recovery is close to the hearts of Galvestonians. And as its centennial anniversary comes and goes, and its stories are passed on again, the 1900 Storm will become part of the history of another generation.







'The storm'



For locals, any reference to "the storm" is obvious. If someone says a house survived the storm, there is no doubt it predates Sept. 8, 1900.

If people say they had family who died or survived the storm, there is no doubt that they are referring to a family history that goes back more than 100 years.

For in Galveston, "the storm" always refers to the hurricane that tore across Galveston on Sept. 8, 1900, and left the city in ruins.

Those who managed, either by sheer luck or the grace of God, to survive the storm faced the challenge of moving forward.

In his memoirs, meteorologist Isaac Cline referred to the morning after the storm as "a most beautiful day."

It was indeed a sunny, warm day, the kind of day people came to Galveston for at the turn of the century. But few visitors would walk the sandy shores for months after the infamous hurricane.

Instead, bodies of the dead that were improperly buried at sea washed ashore on those beaches, leaving even more treacherous work for the cleanup crews.

The storm left behind a legacy that extends across the country. As families moved from the island, they carried with them the story of that night.

[Bianca]

                                   

                                    A few surviving structures, seen in the distance,
                                    tower above the destruction.

                                    Associated Press file photo.









                                                           Before the storm






In the years before the great storm of Sept. 8, 1900, Galveston had grown from a small settlement on the Texas coast into one of the wealthiest cities in the country.

Its natural deepwater channel made Galveston the most important seaport in Texas. Trains carried cargo to and from the port, and ships traveled across the seas.

In fact, more than 70 percent of the country's cotton crop at the time passed through the port of Galveston, and some 1,000 ships called on the port annually.

The wealthy from throughout the state and country visited Galveston to bathe in the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico.

The shallow waters made it easy for bathers to wade safely several yards offshore and enjoy what was considered to be a therapeutic bathing in the Gulf. At the time, the entire stretch of the beach was level with the surf. The Beach Hotel, which burned before the 1900 Storm, was a vacation destination.

The city was home to about 37,000 people. Galveston, with its wealth and prosperity, was home to numerous firsts for the state, such as first electricity and first telephones.

But the same characteristics that made the city attractive to its residents and guests left it vulnerable to disaster.

"That same proximity to the sea that made Galveston prosper changed Galveston forever," said Macdonald, a descendent of a 1900 Storm survivor and author of a driving tour about the history of the storm.

[Bianca]

                                   

                                    Debris litters an island avenue in this photo taken
                                    by Melvin Verkin in the days following the storm.

                                    Courtesy of Paul Verkin.









                                                     An island washed away







It had been suggested before the 1900 hurricane that a seawall be built to protect the city from high tides and storm surges, but because the city had not been seriously hurt by hurricanes before 1900, the residents developed a sense of security.

Even as the waters began to rise on the morning of Sept. 8, 1900, residents continued about their daily business. Children played in the flood waters, which began rising as early as dawn.

When Cline, then chief meteorologist of the U.S. Weather Service station in Galveston, began his observations about 5 a.m., he noticed gulf water creeping over the low ends of the island.

From atop the National Weather Service bureau, which was at 23rd and Market streets, Cline watched storm swells rise, the barometer drop and the winds grow stronger.

According to his memoirs, he knew at that moment of impending danger. He rode up and down the beach on his horse urging visitors to go home and residents within three blocks of the beach to move to higher ground.

In 1900, higher ground was a relative term. The highest house in the city was at an elevation between 8 and 9 feet.

But even Cline's warning would prove fruitless as the night approached. By the peak of the storm, no part of the island remained dry.

"In reality, there was no island, just the ocean with houses standing out of the waves which rolled between them," Cline wrote in his memoirs "Storms, Flood and Sunshine," (1945, Pelican Publishing).

Throughout the day, Cline sent telegraph warnings to the Weather Service's central office in Washington, D.C. But by midafternoon, lines went down, and he could no longer relay messages.

He walked home through deep water and found refuge with some 50 people at his house near the beach.

[Bianca]

                                   

                                     Galveston's Sacred Heart Church
                                     was destroyed by the storm.

                                     Courtesy of Rosenberg Library.









                                                      Mother Nature's wrath







Little is known about the exact weather conditions of the 1900 hurricane.

The instruments Cline and other meteorologists used were far from the technologically advanced forecasting systems of today. Little was known about tropical cyclones, as hurricanes were called then.

Cline would spend much of his later career studying hurricanes so the world would not face the unexpected and sudden devastation it did that night in Galveston.

When the storm's fury was at its greatest, the wind speed could only be estimated.

Cline estimated that the winds exceeded 120 miles per hour. But with information available today, and using the knowledge learned from all of the hurricanes since, the National Weather Service estimates that it would take winds between 130 and 140 miles per hour to produce the extreme tide and storm surge of the 1900 Storm.

The 15 1/2 -foot storm surge rolled over the island from gulf to bay. Houses collapsed, and as the surge continued, a wall of debris described as at least two-stories high pushed across the island. This wall destroyed everything in its path, building force as it moved across the island.

Cline's family was in the path of destruction. A trolley trestle broke from its moorings and battered the house until it collapsed. Members of Clines' family were thrown into the waves.

In his memoir, Cline wrote: "The battle for our lives, against the elements and the terrific hurricane winds and storm-tossed wreckage, lasted from 8 p.m. until near midnight. This struggle to live continued through one of the darkest of nights with only an occasional flash of lightning which revealed the terrible carnage about us."

When it finally stopped, the wall of debris served to protect those buildings behind it from destruction. That is to say, it helped to prevent the buildings from crumbling into a pile of lumber. Few buildings escaped without damage, and according to newspaper accounts from that week, no one escaped loss of property or family.

The area from First Street to Eighth Street and from the beach to the harbor was destroyed, as was the area west of 45th Street to the end of the city. Between those two areas, the destruction stretched at an angle from Ninth Street to 45th Street. Houses were bulldozed flat for up to 15 blocks from the beach.

Pictures taken after the storm show empty streets. No people. No animals. No trees. No personal belongings. Only piles of debris that buried families beneath the remains of their homes. Bodies occasionally hang outside the debris piles. But, for the most part, an eerie emptiness paints a picture few words could describe.

The stench of decaying bodies and of fish and other animals rotting in the streets is unimaginable. What person could imagine the sheer bewilderment the survivors must have felt in the morning? For all practical purposes, the island was destroyed that night.

[Bianca]

 

                                   

                                    Sisters of Charity Orphanage, circa 1890s










                                                  The Sisters of Charity Orphanage







... The Ceremony
 


As they have done for many years, members of the Sisters of Charity of Galveston -- along with all Sister of Charity throughout the world -- gathers each year to honor the 10 nuns and 90 orphans who lost their lives in the Great Storm.

The site is marked by a historical marker near 69th Street and Seawall Boulevard, in front of Wal-Mart Supercenter.

When the storm hit on Sept. 8, 1900, the nuns and the children were at St. Mary's Orphan Asylum near 69th Street and what is now Seawall Boulevard.

As the flood waters rose, the nuns took the children to the second floor of the girls' dormitory, where each sister used clothesline to connect a string of children to her waist. Both buildings of the orphanage collapsed that evening, killing all but three people.

The ceremony each year includes a wreath-laying and prayer time.
 

 
Wherever they are in the world on Sept. 8, the members of the Congregation of the Sisters of Charity of the Incarnate Word sing an old French hymn, "Queen of the Waves."

Whether in their ministry in rural Kenya, East Africa or one of the hospitals of the Sisters of Charity Health Care System, which they sponsor, the Sisters of Charity sing the same hymn that has been sung on that date every year since 1900.

The song provides the sisters and all those who co-minister with them an opportunity to pause and remember all who lost their lives in a devastating hurricane almost a century ago.

Striking Galveston on Sept. 8, 1900, the Great Storm is considered the worst natural disaster in the nation's history.

More than 6,000 men, women and children lost their lives. Among the dead were 10 sisters and 90 children from the St. Mary's Orphans Asylum, operated by the Sisters of Charity.

The sisters also operated St. Mary's Infirmary in Galveston. It was the first Catholic hospital in the state, established in 1867.

The sisters were called to Galveston by Catholic Bishop Claude M. Dubuis in 1866 to care for the many sick and infirm in what was the major port of entry for Texas. They were also charged with caring for orphaned children, most of whom had lost parents during yellow fever epidemics.

At first the Sisters of Charity opened an orphanage within the hospital, but later moved it three miles to the west on beach-front property on the former estate of Captain Farnifalia Green.

The location seemed ideal as it was far from town and the threat of yellow fever.

As Galveston entered the new millennium, it was one of the wealthiest cities per capita in the United States and one of the largest in the state.

It was a prosperous community with a bustling port. With a population of 36,000, Galveston appeared to be poised for greatness.

[Bianca]

                                                     








And then one weekend in September in 1900, the same proximity to the sea that had made the community grow and prosper as a port city, was to change Galveston Island forever. On Sept. 8, Galveston became the victim of a powerful hurricane of such destructive force that whole blocks of homes were completely swept away and one sixth of population was killed.

Beginning early on the morning of Saturday, Sept. 8, 1900, the winds began coming in strongly from the north. Despite the opposing winds, the tides of the southern gulf waters also rose sending large crashing waves upon the beach front.

Sister Elizabeth Ryan, one of 10 sisters at St. Mary's Orphanage, had come into town that morning to collect food. Despite pleas from Mother Gabriel, the assistant superior at St. Mary's Infirmary, for her to stay at the hospital until the storm passed, Sister Elizabeth said she had to return to the orphanage.

Sister Elizabeth said that she had the provisions in the wagon and if she did not return the children would have no supper. She didn't know that whether she returned or not there would be no more suppers at the orphanage.

During the afternoon the winds and rain continued to increase. The tides of the gulf rose higher and higher with fierce waves crashing on the beach sending flood waters into the residential areas.

St. Mary's Orphanage consisted of two large two-story dormitories just off the beach behind a row of tall sand dunes that were supported by salt cedar trees. The buildings had balconies facing the gulf.

According to one of the boys at the orphanage, the rising tides began eroding the sand dunes "as though they were made of flour." Soon the waters of the gulf reached the dormitories.

The Sisters at the orphanage brought all of the children into the girls' dormitory because it was the newer and stronger of the two. In the first floor chapel, they tried to calm the children by having them sing "Queen of the Waves." The waters continued to rise.

Taking the children to the second story of the dormitory, the Sisters had Henry Esquior, a worker, collect clothesline rope. Again they had the boys and girls sing "Queen of the Waves."

One of the boys later said that the children were very frightened and the Sisters were very brave.

By 6 p.m. the wind was gusting past 100 miles per hour and the waters of the gulf and bay had met, completely flooding the city. Residents climbed to the second stories, attics and even roofs of their homes. Flying debris struck many who dared venture outside their homes.

Around 7:30 p.m. the main tidal surge struck the south shore.

Houses along the beach front were lifted from their foundations and sent like battering rams into other houses. Houses fell upon houses.

At St. Mary's Infirmary the flood waters filled the first floor. From the second story balcony, the sisters pulled refugees in as they floated by and brought them into the over-crowded hospital. Almost every window in the facility was broken out sending the wind and rain whipping through the building.

At the orphanage, the children and sisters heard the crash of the boys dormitory as it collapsed and was carried away by the flood waters.

The sisters cut the clothesline rope into sections and used it to tie the children to the cinctures which they wore around their waists. Each Sister tied to herself between six to eight children.

It was a valiant, yet sacrificial effort to save the children. Some of the older children climbed onto the roof of the orphanage.

Eventually the dormitory building that had been the sanctuary for the children and sisters was lifted from its foundation. The bottom fell out and the roof came crashing down trapping those inside.

[Bianca]

Only three boys from the orphanage survived: William Murney, Frank Madera and Albert Campbell. Miraculously all three ended up together in a tree in the water. After floating for more than a day, they were eventually able to make their way into town where they told the sisters what had happened at the orphanage.

One of the boys remembered a sister tightly holding two small children in her arms, promising not to let go.

The sisters were buried wherever they were found, with the children still attached to them. Two of the sisters were found together across the bay on the Mainland. One of them was tightly holding two small children in her arms. Even in death she had kept her promise not to let go.

The death and destruction in Galveston was unbelievable. More than 6,000 were dead and their bodies were littered throughout the city. It would be months before some would be uncovered. A complete list of the dead was never made.

It is estimated that the winds reached 150 mph or maybe even 200. The tidal surge has been estimated at from 15 to 20 feet.

Whole blocks of homes had been completely destroyed leaving little more than a brick or two. In all more than 3,600 homes had been destroyed.

A great wall of debris wrapped itself around St. Mary's Infirmary on the eastern end of the city and then zigzagged through the city to the beach. At places the wall was two stories tall.

Inside this great wall were destroyed houses, pieces of furniture, pots, pans, cats, dogs and people. Those who were dead and those who were dying.

At St. Mary's Infirmary, there was no food or water. While the main hospital building was still standing, the adjacent structures, had been destroyed.

The hospital was packed with those who were injured and those who had no where else to go. Two of the Sisters walked about the area until they found crackers and cookies that had been soaked in the water. They brought them back to the hospital and over a fire they built in the street they dried the food and served it to those in need at the infirmary.

Firmly committed to the healing ministry of Jesus Christ, the Sisters repaired St. Mary's Infirmary and, one year later, opened a new orphanage. Today the sisters have extended their ministry to other states and foreign countries.

On Sept. 8, 1994, a Texas Historical Marker was placed at 69th Street and Seawall Boulevard, marking the site of the former orphanage.

The descendants of two of the survivors, Will Murny and Frank Madera, returned to participate in the marker dedication.

As part of the ceremony, "Queen of the Waves" was again sung at the same time and place as it was during the Great 1900 Storm. And, as it continues to be each Sept. 8 by the Sisters of Charity of the Incarnate Word.




Linda Macdonald is Director of Communications,

Congregation of the Sisters of Charity of the Incarnate Word

in Houston.






MORE:


http://www.1900storm.com/

[Bianca]

 

                                  









                                                Q U E E N   O F   T H E   W A V E S




From a French hymn,

author unknown

 





Queen of the Waves, look forth across the ocean
From north to south, from east to stormy west,
See how the waters with tumultuous motion
Rise up and foam without a pause or rest.

But fear we not, tho' storm clouds round us gather,
Thou art our Mother and thy little Child
Is the All Merciful, our loving Brother
God of the sea and of the tempest wild.

Help, then sweet Queen, in our exceeding danger,
By thy seven griefs, in pity Lady save;
Think of the Babe that slept within the manger
And help us now, dear Lady of the Wave.

Up to the shrine we look and see the glimmer
Thy votive lamp sheds down on us afar;
Light of our eyes, oh let it ne'er grow dimmer,
Till in the sky we hail the morning star.

Then joyful hearts shall kneel around thine altar
And grateful psalms reecho down the nave;
Never our faith in thy sweet power can falter,
Mother of God, our Lady of the Wave.