Historic Pelham

Presenting the rich history of Pelham, NY in Westchester County: current historical research, descriptions of how to research Pelham history online and genealogy discussions of Pelham families.

Thursday, March 01, 2018

Destructive Blizzard Hammered Pelham 104 Years Ago Today


With yet another Nor'easter bearing down on the little Town of Pelham and expected to howl over us beginning this evening, it seems appropriate to recall another Nor'easter that slammed Pelham and the New York City region one hundred and four years ago today and tomorrow (March 1-2, 1914).  The massive storm was, at that time, the largest and most destructive storm to crash into Pelham since the massive Blizzard of 1888 that hit on March 12-13, 1888.  To make matters worse, the storm followed on the heels of another blizzard that had blanketed the area with snow on February 14, 1914.  The snow from that Valentine's Day storm had not yet entirely melted.

At about 7:00 a.m. on Sunday, March 1, 1914, rain began splattering across the Pelham region.  Though the temperature was about 35 degrees all day long, by mid-morning the rain turned to a heavy snow that began to collect as slush on the streets, sidewalks, ground, and grass.  It clung tenaciously to trees throughout the region.

Around noon that day, the wind began to howl.  At times later in the day wind gusts reached 85 miles per hour -- well above hurricane-force winds.  As one might expect, trees and large tree branches throughout the region began toppling -- many onto electrical lines, trolley lines, telephone lines, and utility poles.  Others fell across roadways including a particularly large tree that fell across Boston Post Road at Fowler Avenue in Pelham Manor, taking down electrical lines with it.

Trolley lines ground to a halt.  The storm became so bad that trolley cars in the Village of North Pelham and in the Village of North Pelham became stranded on the tracks.  The problem often was not that the trolley cars were stuck in heavy snow but, instead, the tracks became so slippery with the slushy snow that trolley motormen inadvertently burned out the motors of the trolley cars trying to get the cars to move along the slippery tracks.  Trolley cars sat stranded in the midst of Pelham streets for much of the day and evening as the storm raged.

Only ten or twelve inches of snow fell in the Pelham region during the Nor'easter of March 1, 1914.  The howling wind of the gale, however, did tremendous damage.  The next day, United Press reported that at least eight people had died in the New York region during the storm.  The same report stated:

"With railroad tracks piled deep with snow, telegraph and telephone lines down, and traffic of every sort completely tied up, the entire east was today paralyzed in the grip of the worst storm in years.  A blinding snow driven before a high gale continued to swirl and drive through the storm section this afternoon.  Railroads canceled trains entirely.  No attempt was made to carry passengers and reports were lacking on trains from the west due in here yesterday.  Losses as the result of the storm will probably run into the millions.  Meagre reports received from the railroads indicates staggering damage has been done by the high winds and the heavy snow.  A foot of snow has fallen here up to noon today.  Weather bureau officials said the storm might abate this afternoon or tonight, but the tie-up is now so complete that it will require days for the cities and town of the east to dig themselves out."

The region, of course, dug out of the snow, cleaned up the damage and, where necessary, rebuilt.  The Nor'easter of 1914, it seems, was merely another reminder like the Great Blizzard of 1888 why we say that March comes "in like a lion."



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"MOST DESTRUCTIVE BLIZZARD IN TWENTY YEARS SWEEPS SECTION
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Trolley Service Completely Out of Commission Up to an Early Hour this Afternoon -- Telegraph and Telephone Service Crippled for Time -- Lighting Company Kept Busy Repairing Breaks as Falling Trees Tear Down Wires -- 85 Mile Gale Brings Ruin in Its Path -- Money Loss is Going to be Heavy -- Streets Filled with Snow and Slush
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Spreading ruin in its path, a blizzard that was more destructive than that of any in the last 20 years swept over Mount Vernon yesterday and last night.  Today the following are grim reminders of the visitation:

Ten-inch sheet of snow, ice and slush over everything, making many crosswalks impassable and converting sidewalks and gutters into slushy lakes which look innocent enough but in which pedestrians sink ankle-deep in water.

Much property damage, consisting of broken windows, signs, doors, trees, telephone poles.

Crippled traffic on railroads and trolleys.  Trains behind tine, while for nearly 24 hours not a wheel has turned on the trolley lines except where men tried to operate snow plows and sweepers, but the snow is so heavy that they made little progress.

Lighting system threatened by falling trees and poles.  Southern section of city without light.

Hundreds of telephones out of commission caused by snapping wires.

Deliveries of foodstuffs delayed or entirely prevented.

More snow fell today, considerably hampering the work of digging Mount Vernon out.  To make matters worse, the temperature began to drop this afternoon.  A cold wave would convert the slushy snow into thick ice.

Public schools in Mount Vernon are shut down today, it being realized that to send children out of their homes in such weather would be jeopardizing their lives.  While the storm was at its height last night few persons ventured out on the streets and consequently many churches were dark.

A northwest gale that at times attained a velocity of 85 miles blew unceasingly last night, accompanied by a precipitation that alternately turned from snow to rain and some times mixtures of both.  All in all, it was one of the worst nights on record here.  While the storm did not result in nearly as much snow as the famous blizzard of 1888, nevertheless while it was far more destructive and fierce than anything within the memory of the present generation.

With snow covering the ground from the blizzard of February 14, which had succumbed somewhat to three days of thaw, rain began to fall yesterday morning about 7 o'clock.  Those seeing the rain welcomed it, thinking it would be the means of washing away what remained of the previous snowfall.  However, the rain soon turned to snow and soon the streets were full of slush.

People emerging from church at neon, found that they could not step anywhere without sinking over their rubbers into the watery slush.  The temperature was over 35 degrees all day.  In the early afternoon the wind arose, flinging rain and snow all about.  The snow fell fast, great big flakes that soon covered up the slush.  There were few flakes although the wind raged.  The snow, very damp and heavy, lay where it fell.

Those who had left their homes in the morning to go visiting found themselves in a bad fix on returning home.  Persons were thrown to the ground and became soaking wet.

Mayor Fiske was at his office yesterday afternoon and with Deputy Public Works Commissioner Benedetto did what they could to relieve the conditions that were fast growing worse.  A half hundred snow shovelers were sent out to clear the crosswalks, but at 7:30 p.m., buffeted about by wind and wet to the skin, they gave up their task.  City snowplows and gutter plows were sent out, but the snow was so heavy that little could be done yesterday.

Today sixty men were sent out to clear the crosswalks and drains.  No further steps will be taken to remove the snow, Mayor Fiske said, until it is seen what new developments take place.  It is impossible, he said, to haul the slush.  Consequently no carting of snow was carried on.  No garbage collections were made today.

Everybody clean off sidewalks, not only the walks, but their gutters, too, was an order issued by Mayor Fiske.  The mayor notified the police department to enforce strictly the city ordinance which provides that snow and ice must be removed in a certain time.  The ordinance in question will be 
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(Continued on Page Five.)

MOST DESTRUCTIVE BLIZZARD IN CITY
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(Continued From Page One).
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found in an advertisement on the first page of the Argus.  Prosecutions will follow neglect to obey the law, Mayor Fiske said.

A wagon manned by three city employes started out this morning to make the rounds of the city, picking up parts of broken trees.  Eight snow plows were also put to work.  Six gangs of seven shovelers each were sent to the various wards, one gang going to each ward except in the Fourth ward, where two gangs were detailed.

'There's no use trying to haul this stuff away,' said Public Works Commissioner Harlow.  'It is too heavy.  It is packing down well and the wagons and autos are not having so much difficulty as they did two weeks ago.'  The commissioner added that there has been one continual round of complaints from persons wanting crosswalks cleared.

Lieutenant Clark at police headquarters is suffering from writer's cramp today after the many reports of storm damage that occurred.  The flag pole on the city hall snapped under the pressure of the gale.  Three men were sent onto the roof today to pick up the remnants.  The following reports of damage were made at the police station.

Telephone wires down at Stevens avenue and West Lincoln avenue.  East Sidney avenue near the fire house.  Electric light wires down at Fifth avenue and First street, Sand street and Gramatan avenue.  Lights were reported to have burned the Fourth avenue and Fifth avenue bridges slightly before being put out.  An electric light wire burned a tree on Third avenue near Third street where the cable broke.

A large branch was reported to be hanging from a tree on Ninth avenue near Fourth street.  It was removed by the department of public works.  A Western Union cable snapped on South Railroad avenue.  Scores of large limbs were blown from trees, and in some instances whole trees went down.  Trees were damaged at Brookside avenue near Fourth street, Mount Vernon avenue and Short street, before 137 Summit avenue, Third avenue, and Fourth and Fifth streets, Fourth street between Third and Fourth avenues.

Windows were blown in at the Anderson Realty office, Third avenue and First street;  Marcus Bros., grocers, 495 West Lincoln avenue.

A broken trolley pole was found hanging from some wires at Mount Vernon avenue and West street.

A section of the large sign board on top of the building on the northeast corner of Fourth avenue and First street, facing East First street, was blown down.  The signboard was plastered with wet snow and this fact together with the wind caused the board to collapse and topple over.  The section facing Fourth avenue did not blow over.

For the first time in years the no school signal, '9-9-9' was sounded this morning at 8 o'clock at headquarters by order for the board of education.  It was a rather unusual coincidence that the no school signals in this city, New Rochelle and Tuckahoe were all sounded at the same time.

Fire Commissioner Howland, early yesterday afternoon instructed Fire Chief Nicholas Ehrbar to issue orders to all of the paid firemen to immediately go on duty at their respective fire houses and to sleep there.  They will remain there until countermanding orders are given.  Chief Ehrbar said that the arrangements at the several fire houses for drawing the pieces of apparatus in cases of fire are the same as those which went into effect on the day of the first blizzard.  There are chains and ropes on the wheels of the automobile apparatus.

In case the auto apparatus of Truck 1 cannot be used the light truck now at headquarters will respond.  It is hoped that residents of the city will continue to exercise diligence in regard to leaving waste paper in the cellar and at the foot of the stairs so as to avoid any possibility of fires breaking out by matches being thrown about.

Not in years has the trolley service in this city been so badly crippled.  Not a trolley car has been operated in this city since last night, up to press time this afternoon.  The trouble is due to the ice on the tracks which formed after the cold set in early last evening and froze the slush in the grooves, and also to the fact that the water in the tracks coming from the melting snow and the slush, got into the motors and caused them to burn out.  More cars were crippled by burned motors than in any other way.

Late in the afternoon the real trouble began and Supt. William B. Wheeler and his assistants were kept busy trying to operate at least a few cars.

First, one of the Chester Hill cars became stalled on East Lincoln avenue near Fletcher avenue about 5 o'clock.  Prior to that the cars had simply crawled along their lines.  Then another car became stalled on the same street and still another one was unable to be operated beyond North Columbus avenue.

It was 7 o'clock when trolley service on the line east of Fulton avenue and Third street went out of commission for about an hour.  This was due to the fact that one of the high tension wires of the Westchester Lighting Co., covered with a blanket of snow, was blown down by the gale and it fell across the trolley wires on Echo avenue, New Rochelle.  Not a car was operated until this wire was removed.  The Pelham manor trolley service was affected also.  Then a short time after that, another of the lighting company wires fell across the wires on the corner of Fowler avenue and Boston Post road in Pelham Manor, and Boston Post road in Pelham Manor, and once more the trolley service between New Rochelle and East Third street was put out of commission.  The trouble was overcome and the situation improved, but not to a great extent as from that time on only a few cars were run between New Rochelle and 177th street.

The Third avenue elevated cars and the Williamsbridge and Mount Vernon cars crawled along until 2 o'clock this morning when one of the big red cars operated by the Union Railway Co., on the Williamsbridge-Mount Vernon line became stalled at 233rd street and White Plains road and then came a blockade.  Not a car was operated on the main line into this city.  After that hour no more New Rochelle cars were operated to 177th street, the cars simply making the loop around First street from Fourth avenue to Fifth avenue and then back to New Rochelle.

The one Harlem station car became crippled when the motor burned out late last night at Scott's bridge.  Both of the North Pelham cars were stalled as were the Fifth avenue cars.  The Fifth avenue line was blocked by a car which could not be moved from Seventh street, near the switch.

The Sixth street and Fulton avenue car became stalled at 1 o'clock this morning at the foot of the hill on Union avenue and Sixth street, the motors burning out as a result of the water and slush on the tracks.

The blockade on the White Plains line began at 3:30 o'clock when one of the large double truck cars on its way to this city got as far as a point between Williams and Cedar streets on Gramatan avenue, when it could not be operated any farther in the snow and there it remained.  The passengers walked to this city in the storm and wind.

No cars were operated between Harlem station and Yonkers this morning and the West Mount Vernon cars could not be run in Webster avenue.

The Westchester Lighting company considers that its escape from any great amount of damage is quite remarkable in view of the fact that in New Jersey and vicinity thousands of poles were blown down.  No a pole owned by the Westchester Lighting company, was blown down in this city and vicinity according to information given out at the offices of the company.  All of the trouble with the lighting system was due to the fact that wires were torn down by falling trees.

While the gale was at its height a tree was blown down on Third avenue, between Second and Third streets.  It carried lighting company wires with it.  It was then about 6 o'clock and the system on Third, Fourth, Fifth and Sixth avenues south of Third street was out of commission all night.  Superintendent Green had a gang of men at work all night.

A tree was blown down on the corner of Brookside avenue and Fourth street, but the wire which was carried down, only provided current for the pumping station near there and for one or two houses.  Another tree was blown down on Gramatan and more wires of the lighting company were torn down, but again the company was fortunate in that only a few houses on Gramatan avenue were cut off from light.  A part of the lighting system of Bronxville was affected, but as a gang of men was rushed to the scene of the trouble, the wires were put back into place again by 8 o'clock.  A wire came down on First street and South Fifth avenue at a point near the New Haven cut.

The most serious trouble occurred on Fowler avenue and Boston Post road in Pelham Manor about 7 o'clock when a large tree covered with snow collapsed.  The emergency cut in was quickly made, otherwise Mount Vernon would have been in darkness.

The Corcoran Manor section was cut off from electric light in the evening when the when three trees were blown down on California road and wires were short circuited.

Superintendent Green had gangs of men at work all over the city and in neighboring towns untangling wires from trees.  The men were taken to the various places in conveyances and there was one accident.  A wagon was upset in a snow drift on White Plains road opposite Westchester Park.  The driver and his helper were thrown out but escaped injury, but the shafts of the wagon were smashed.  The men could not reach the place they were sent to, so they were ordered to find sleeping quarters for the rest of the night, it being then 1:30 o'clock.

Two hundred telephones in this city and about 600 in the county were put out of commission.  Owen G. MacKnight, traffic manager of the telephone company, said today that the company escaped serious damage.  There was, of course, intances where some wires in trees in parts of the city were carried down by falling branches and these had to be repaired.  The principal trouble occurred where the wires extending from the cable in the subways to the house of the subscriber became covered with ice.  This morning at 11 o'clock there were not more than 50 telephones in the city out of commission.  Mr. MacKnight said the trunk lines held well.  Business was unusually heavy and the entire force of telephone operators, with extra girls were at work at 7:30 o'clock."

Source:  MOST DESTRUCTIVE BLIZZARD IN TWENTY YEARS SWEEPS SECTION -- Trolley Service Completely Out of Commission Up to an Early Hour this Afternoon -- Telegraph and Telephone Service Crippled for Time -- Lighting Company Kept Busy Repairing Breaks as Falling Trees Tear Down Wires -- 85 Mile Gale Brings Ruin in Its Path -- Money Loss is Going to be Heavy -- Streets Filled with Snow and Slush, The Daily Argus [Mount Vernon, NY], Mar. 2, 1914, No. 7387, p. 1, cols. 1-7 & p. 5, cols. 1-4.

"Conditions Worse In New York -- Railroads Cancel Trains And Death List Is Reported Growing
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(By United Press)
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New York, March 2. -- With railroad tracks piled deep with snow, telegraph and telephone lines down, and traffic of every sort completely tied up, the entire east was today paralyzed in the grip of the worst storm in years.  A blinding snow driven before a high gale continued to swirl and drive through the storm section this afternoon.  Railroads canceled trains entirely.  No attempt was made to carry passengers and reports were lacking on trains from the west due in here yesterday.  Losses as the result of the storm will probably run into the millions.  Meagre reports received from the railroads indicates staggering damage has been done by the high winds and the heavy snow.  A foot of snow has fallen here up to noon today.  Weather bureau officials said the storm might abate this afternoon or tonight, but the tie-up is now so complete that it will require days for the cities and town of the east to dig themselves out.

Eight deaths have been reported so far in New York and vicinity.  Five have perished in New York.  One man was killed by a fallen live wire in Trenton.  Two cleaning railroad tracks were killed by a train on Long Island.  Reports from outlying districts are lacking.  The coal and milk situation is acute.  Not in years have coal dealers received such demands for fuel while being absolutely unable to fill orders.  No milk was received in the city today.  Most of New York went to business today on the subway.  Surface cars stood on their tracks, snowed in by great drifts, and Brooklyn was completely snowbound.  From all parts of the coast came reports of vessels in distress.  None left their piers today and incoming steamers were held up outside the harbor.  So great was the danger of disastrous fires in New York that 500 firemen were detailed to patrol the streets.  'Way Down East' village scenes were enacted in upper Broadway.  The wind during the night drove the sleet into keyholes and when the temperature dropped, locks were frozen solid."

Source:  Conditions Worse In New York -- Railroads Cancel Trains And Death List Is Reported GrowingThe Daily Argus [Mount Vernon, NY], Mar. 2, 1914, No. 7387, p. 1, cols. 2-3

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Monday, March 13, 2017

Another Account of The Great Blizzard of 1888 that Raged in Pelham 129 Years Ago Yesterday and Today


As Pelham awaits Stella, the Nor'easter threatening to overrun the region tonight and tomorrow, it seems appropriate to remember that one hundred twenty nine years ago yesterday and today, Pelham was overrun by "The Great White Hurricane," also known as the "Blizzard of 1888."  As one Pelham resident wrote more than fifty years later, it "became one of the times from which things were dated.'  The blizzard's fury reached its height on March 12, 1888.

One of the most colorful stories about Pelham residents during The Blizzard of 1888 is one that could have ended in tragedy but, happily, did not.  Like thousands of other working men and women who awoke to nearly 10 inches of snow early in the morning on Monday, March 12, two Pelham residents failed to grasp the magnitude of the massive storm and tried to reach the City for work early that day.  

The two residents, Henry W. Taft and Alfred L. Hammett, clambered aboard the tiny little Harlem River Branch Line train that left Pelham Manor Depot at 7:37 a.m. Monday morning.  Little did they know the life-threatening risk they were taking. 

The tiny little train on which they traveled was so small it was called “the little peanut train”.  It consisted of a steam locomotive, a fire tender and two passenger cars.  At that early date there reportedly was no steam heating system for the passenger cars, so “the cars were heated by a stove at the end of each car.” 

After leaving Pelham Manor, the little train passed Bartow Station and Baychester Station (and its bridge) and made it to Westchester Station.  Just past Westchester Station, however, the tracks passed through a “cut” that had filled with drifting snow.  The train plowed into the deep snow drift until it began "to labor" and after a few "convulsive" thrusts, stopped dead in its tracks, unable to proceed.  Shovels were quickly deployed to attempt to remove snow from the front of the train, but the effort was futile.  The train was hopelessly stuck just as the storm entered its most furious phase, stranding the crew and the few passengers on board like those of so many other trains in the region. 

The furious winds blew tiny particles of through every crack around every window where the snow melted inside and dampened everything.  Soon the passengers and crew had depleted all available fuel for the little stoves that heated the cars.  Next they began to break up and burn the seats of the cars for additional warmth. 

The poor engineer of the train began to suffer "an agony of rheumatic pain" as the terrible hours slowly passed.  According to one account, his groans of pain began to mingle with the whistling of the wind.  As the day wore on and it became devastatingly clear that the storm was not subsiding and no help was coming, the passengers and crew were faced with a terrible conundrum.  Should the exit the train and head into the storm on foot to find shelter, or should they remain on board the little peanut train?  Either choice risked freezing to death.

Late in the day on Monday, March 12, it became apparent that they were on their own.   Messrs. Taft and Hammett of Pelham Manor decided to take matters into their own hands, concluding that “their only escape lay in an attempt to get back on foot through the drifts.”  They decided to exit the train and attempt to make their way in the blinding snow and high snow drifts back to Pelham Manor.  



Only Known Image of The Little Peanut Train on the Branch
Line Stuck in the Snow Near Westchester Station.  Photograph
Taken Several Days After the March 12-13, 1888 Blizzard.
Photo Courtesy of The Office of The Historian of The Town of
Pelham.  Note:  Click on Image to Enlarge.

At about 4:00 in the afternoon, Taft and Hammett pried open the door of the train car and climbed into the snow.  The pair began trying to follow the train tracks hidden beneath snow and drifts that stood face-high in some places.  They had to push through banks of snow and, occasionally, could not make out where the train tracks were, so they found the barb wire fences that stood along the tracks and used the wire to guide themselves along.  

After hours of effort, the pair reached the railroad bridge over Eastchester Bay at the mouth of the Hutchinson River.  There the railroad tracks rested on short pilings across the waters of the Bay.  Completely exposed to the elements, the howling wind and piercing pellets of ice and snow had the "impact of shot from a gun."  The high winds risked blowing the pair into the water below to certain death.  All the men could do was to hold onto the planking and the railroad cross-ties and crawl across the trestle, holding on for dear life.  During any lull in the wind, the men would spring to their feet and try to sprint along the cross-ties to "make the best use of that always short interval."

After exhausting efforts, the pair made it across Eastchester Bay and bulled their way along the tracks through the snow to Bartow Station.  Night had fallen and an ink-black darkness descended.  

At Bartow residents helped the men warm up and offered a horse to help.  Recognizing that a horse would be useless in the high snow banks and drifts, Taft and Hammett declined.  The two men were anxious to return to their families to allay worries and to help them pass through the remainder of the storm safely.  The two never even removed their outer garments at Bartow.  They simply warmed themselves, then plunged back outside along the railroad tracks to return to Pelham Manor.  

According to one account, as the men made their way between Bartow Station and Pelham Manor:

"The snow was deep all along and the drifts frequent and formidable.  The darkness was so nearly utter and total that these would not be discovered until all of a sudden a white wall, apparently sheer and insurmountable, would rise within a few inches of their faces.  How best to flank or surmount them was then the question.  Sometimes there was resort to the fence, and a hand over hand progress was made through them despite the wounding of the iron barbs.  Again those constantly recurring barriers were overcome by lying down and rolling over them!"

Late that evening, Taft and Hammett noticed a light in the distance.  That guiding light came from within the Pelham Manor Station along the railroad tracks near their homes.  They quickened their pace and stumbled to the station, onto the station platform, and toward their homes near the station.  Taft left Hammett in front of Hammett's home and, luckily, did not depart immediately.  Hammett stumbled and fell in the snow in front of his home and did not get up.  Taft helped him up and into the home before continuing to his house.  Hammett insisted for years thereafter that had Taft not helped him at that moment, he would have frozen to death in front of his own home after nearly completing his ordeal.

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I have written about The Great White Hurricane of 1888 and its effects on Pelham.  See:

Tues., Apr. 22, 2014:  Another Story of the "Great White Hurricane" that Struck Pelham and Surrounding Regions in 1888.

Thu., Mar. 13, 2014:  The Great Blizzard of 1888 in Pelham: 126 Years Ago Yesterday and Today.

Tue., Feb. 14, 2006:  An Account of the Blizzard of 1888 by Pelham Manor Resident Henry W. Taft

Thu., February 20, 2014:  Pelham Manor in 1883 and in its Early Years - Recollections of An Early Pelham Manor Resident.

Bell, Blake A., The Blizzard of 1888: Pelham in the Midst Of the "Great White Hurricane," The Pelham Weekly, Vol. XIII, No. 34, Aug. 27, 2004, p. 9, col. 1.

Below is yet another account of the travails of Messrs. Taft and Hammett as they fled the little peanut train for their homes at the height of the Blizzard of 1888.  The account is reprinted from The New York Evangelist.  This strongly suggests that the account was written by John Henry Dey, a Pelham Manor resident and close friend of Messrs. Taft and Hammett, who served as Associate Editor of The New York Evangelist at the time.  The text appears immediately below, followed by a citation and link to its source.

"A TALE OF THE BLIZZARD.
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A Graphic Account of the New York Snow Storm.

The following is taken from the New York Evangelist concerning the snow storm.  In speaking of being caught out the writer says:  

The writer only escaped a similar or worse experience by missing a train on the branch road extending from New Rochelle to the Harlem river, and which was quite out of time on that furious morning.  Three of his neighbors were at the station, however, and as in the case of the early bird, caught the passing worm.  And this was a subject of much felicitati on, as we are assured, for the next fifteen minutes or so.  But just on the hither, side of the Westchester station, their train and themselves encountered 'the unkindest cut of all.'  They left that station on time and cheerful, but ere they were fairly under way the locomotive began to labor, and presently after a convulsive effort or two, there was no more progress.  Shovels were used for a little, thereby enacting Mrs. Partington's broom against the tide; but even the track made in coming, was quickly obliterated, and the snow banked behind as well as before the train.  There were only a few passengers, but several of these spent two nights just there.  And miserable nights just there.  And miserable nights they were -- as miserable nights they were -- as miserable as deficient warmth and covering and food and a temperature without close to zero, could make them.  The fine snow particles sifted in at every window, so that at last there was not a dry seat in the single car to which they were confined in order to economize the fuel.  The engineer of the train was of the number, and poor fellow, he was in an agony of rheumatic pain all those terrible hours.  His groans mingled constantly the last night with the whistling of the wind.

Several soon became impatient to learn how their wives and little ones were faring in the waxing storm.  With such preparation as they could make, which was but little, they crowed open the door of their car, and sallied forth a little after four o'clock, resolved to make the four or five miles they had traversed so speedily and gaily in the morning, and over the same route, as on the whole, the best and safest.  It was a struggle from the start.  A hat blew off, and was secured with difficulty.  Their course was nearly in the teeth of the storm, and they could only average about a mile an hour.  They were not very long in coming to a stage of their journey entirely exposed to the force of the wind, and it seemed to come down upon them at times with a full fifty-mile an hour sweep and momentum.  We refer to the salt meadows section between Timberson's and Bay Chester stations, the level reach of which extends well toward Mount Vernon on the west, and on the east to the Sound, which it finds between the uplands of Westchester on the south and Fort Schuyler on the north.  This great level area is, at intervals of perhaps two or three years, and under pressure of a long prevalent and powerful wind in the right quarter, quite overflowed from the piled-up waters of the Sound, and turbulent as an arm of the sea.  The railroad track hence rests upon short piles, and one needs to walk with some circumspection upon it at any time.  On this terrible day the wind and snow played upon this bare scaffolding with something of the impact of shot from a gun, and there was nothing for it but for our two friends to seize the planking or crossties [sic] and cling for dear life until the lull came, and then to spring to their feet and make the best use of that always short interval.  Had it not been that nature herself seemed to require a moment to recover her spent breath, their case would have been hopeless.

Arrived at Bartow a short halt was made, and there were offers of a horse or any other assistance of avail.  But the only progress possible was by foot and so the last half of the journey was begun, with a little rest, but without removing outer garments.  Fairly on the rails again, or rather over them, this was found to be the most 'laborious and dangerous' part of the adventure.  The stations here are far apart and the grade steadily rises, so that the charged wind -- as sometimes the engineers on this best stretch of the road -- rejoiced to run a race.  Toiling on for an hour, the situation grew forlorn and desperate.  The cold increased, also the wind and snow, and it became very dark.  There was not a star or friendly light to guide, and but for the wire fencing on either hand, and the driving snow which impinged constantly on the ice-laded [sic] face and ear, when progress was being made in the right direction, our friends would inevitably have lost their way.  

The snow was deep all along and the drifts frequent and formidable.  The darkness was so nearly utter and total that these would not be discovered until all of a sudden a white wall, apparently sheer and insurmountable, would rise within a few inches of their faces.  How best to flank or surmount them was then the question.  Sometimes there was resort to the fence, and a hand over hand progress was made through them despite the wounding of the iron barbs.  Again those constantly recurring barriers were overcome by lying down and rolling over them!  A blessed suggestion from the contrasted sunny days of youth coming to the rescue!  Finally, after long hours of this work, and when strength and resolution were sorely tried, if not quite spent, the welcome, thrice welcome light of the Pelham Manor station was discerned at only a little distance off!  

That such a genuine Dakotan adventure as we have here sketched could have occurred on the afternoon and evening of Monday week and within the bounds for the most part of one of our projected city parks, who would have believed possible."

Source:  A TALE OF THE BLIZZARD -- A Graphic Account of the New York Snow Storm, Randolph Register [Randolph, NY], Mar. 29, 1888, Vol. XXIII, No. 45, p. 8, cols. 1-2.  

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Tuesday, December 06, 2016

An Account of the Tragic Vaughan Livery Stable Fire in Pelhamville in 1907


A terrible blizzard raged across Pelham that night.  The winds were blowing furiously as the brutal cold and heavy snow pounded the little town.  Even the local police were hunkered down in their offices when, according to one newspaper account, the telephone rang.  A woman's voice on the other end of the line shrieked:

"Please send help quick.  The house is burning up.  I cannot get out.  Oh, for God's sake do something!"

One of the worst fires ever to rage across Pelham had begun.  Within a short time, according to various accounts, "it was feared that the whole town would be destroyed by fire" as gale force winds began carrying burning debris high into the air and depositing the flaming torches throughout the Village of Pelham and the Village of North Pelham where wooden frame residences and structures seemed like kindling.  By the time the fire was over, the woman who made the sad telephone call to the police and three others were dead.  Additionally, about thirty horses died in the fire.

I have written about this tragic fire before.  See Wed., Jan. 18, 2006:  Newspaper Report of the Infamous Vaughan's Livery Stable Fire in North Pelham in 1907.  

Known as the Vaughan Livery Fire of 1907, the tragedy frightened local taxpayers into finally passing a bond referendum to update their antiquated fire-fighting force.  Indeed, the Vaughan Livery Fire of 1907 was such a wakeup call that taxpayers voted a bond issue to build the fire station that preceded today's station (on essentially the same site).  The new firehouse included a large apparatus room and five stalls for horses on the first floor as well as a 40 x 70 feet hall above for entertainments that came to be known as "Firemen's Hall."  The tiny old fire building was moved to the rear of the same lot and attached to the new firehouse. Once the old building was attached to the new firehouse, it was used for company rooms upstairs.  On the first floor below were the Fire Commissioners' office and a room for the fire alarm system and motors.  The bond issue also furnished a steam fire engine and team of horses as well as a horse-drawn hook and ladder truck.  The two fire companies were enlarged to fifty members each.

The fire began in a livery stable owned by a man named Richard L. Vaughan.  It was a large livery stable located on Wolfs Lane roughly at today's 105 Wolfs Lane where famed Pelham restaurant "Rockwells American Restaurant" is located (see map detail below).  Vaughan and his family lived with a housekeeper and a boarder above the stable. 



Detail from Map Published in 1899 Showing Location
of the Livery Stable on Wolfs Lane in Lower Left Corner.
Source:  Fairchild, John F., Atlas of the City of Mount
Vernon and the Town of Pelham, Plate 21 (Mount Vernon,
NY:  John F. Fairchild, 1899).  NOTE:  Click on Image to Enlarge.

At about 4:00 a.m. on February 5, 1907, a blinding snowstorm accompanied by a forty-five mile gale raged throughout Pelham.  An acting police sergeant named Champion was at nearby Police Headquarters when he noticed a reflection on the snow that looked like fire. He ran outside and saw the livery stables ablaze.  He broke open the front door yelling “fire”!  He raced to a nearby apartment building known as “the Lyons flats” yelling “fire” and ringing doorbells.  In the apartment above the stables, liveryman Vaughan realized what was unfolding.  He woke his wife and child and began pushing them toward the front staircase of the building. Before reaching the staircase, Mrs. Vaughan collapsed from the smoke. As liveryman Vaughan tried to save his wife, child, housekeeper and a boarder named Thomas McKay, he collided with an iron column in the hallway, rendering him partially unconscious. 

The entire building was engulfed in flames.  Nearby Lyons flats (a tiny wooden apartment building) was next.  For the first time in the Town’s history, it looked as though the entire business section of Pelham would be wiped out by fire.  With the downtown at risk, fire fighters from Mount Vernon and New Rochelle joined the battle.  

Inside the inferno, Richard Vaughan regained consciousness and searched for his family. As he stumbled about, he fell down the stairs to the first floor where firemen rescued him, though he was badly burned. Seconds after rescuers carried Vaughan out of the building, the entire structure collapsed in a burning heap.  Vaughan’s family, the boarder and the housekeeper perished in the blaze.  Thirty horses died in the fire as well.  Some reports indicate that three people perished in the fire.  Others say it was four.  It appears that four died.  

The firefighters suffered brutal conditions that night.  Their water froze.  They were covered in ice in the midst of the brutal storm.  Nevertheless, after the building collapsed, the fire was brought under control. The business district was saved. The cause of the fire was never determined.



Livery Stable Fire in the Early 20th Century, Though
Not a Photograph of the Vaughan Livery Stable Fire
in 1907.  NOTE:  Click on Image to Enlarge.


*          *          *          *          *

Below is an account of the Vaughan Livery Fire of 1907 that appeared in a local newspaper published in the Scarsdale Inquirer on February 7, 1907.  The text is followed by a citation and link to its source.

"THREE BURNED TO DEATH
-----
Fire at North Pelham Tuesday Morning Destroys A Whole Block
-----

In a mysterious fire which destroyed the large livery stable of Richard Vaughan, and an adjoining flat house at North Pelham near Mount Vernon, early Tuesday morning, Mrs. Vaughan the wife of the liveryman, their two-year old son and a hostler, who was asleep in the stable were burned to death.  At first it was feared that the whole town would be destroyed by the fire as there was a blizzard in full blast and big firey torches were carried by the wind for a long distance.

The firemen had a hard time fighting the flames as the water froze and the volunteer firemen became covered with ice and snow and suffered greatly from the cold.

It is believed Mrs. Vaughan died while calling over the telephone in her room for help.  It is definitely known that she called up the police station and shrieked over the wire 'Please send help quick.  The house is burning up.  I cannot get out.  Oh, for God's sake do something!'

The body of Mrs. Vaughan was recovered from the ruins but the bodies of the baby and the hostler could not be found.  Twenty-eight horses belonging to Mr. Vaughan were also burned."

Source:  THREE BURNED TO DEATH -- Fire at North Pelham Tuesday Morning Destroys A Whole Block, Scarsdale Inquirer [Scarsdale, NY], Feb. 7, 1907, p. 3, col. 3.


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Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Another Story of the "Great White Hurricane" that Struck Pelham and Surrounding Regions in 1888


The Great Blizzard of 1888, also known as the Great White Hurricane, was a monumentally-devastating nor'easter by which Americans who lived in the northeast measured their lives ever after:  time before the Great Blizzard or time after the Great Blizzard.  

I have written about the Great White Hurricane before.  For examples, see:  

Thu., Mar. 13, 2014:  The Great Blizzard of 1888 in Pelham: 126 Years Ago Yesterday and Today.

Thu., Feb. 20, 2014:  Pelham Manor in 1883 and in its Early Years - Recollections of An Early Pelham Manor Resident.

Tue., Feb. 14, 2006:  An Account of the Blizzard of 1888 by Pelham Manor Resident Henry W. Taft.

Bell, Blake A., The Blizzard of 1888: Pelham in the Midst Of the 'Great White Hurricane', The Pelham Weekly, Vol. XIII, No. 34, Aug. 27, 2004, p. 9, col. 1.



Only Known Photograph of The Little Peanut Train
on the Branch Line. Photograph Taken Several Days
After the March 12, 1888 Storm. Photo Courtesy of 
The Office of The Historian of The Town of Pelham.

Perhaps nothing can demonstrate the ferocity of the massive storm more than an account published in 1895 of the plight of poor soldiers stationed on Davids Island only hundreds of yards off the shores of Pelham and New Rochelle on the brutal night that the blizzard began.  The Officer of the Day refused to take pity and forced sentinels to walk their posts that horrible night.  Men nearly died.  Others lost their way trying to walk only hundreds of feet in efforts to relieve their comrades because the blinding snow made it impossible to see.  One man hoping to make it to the Officer of the Day to beg him to allow the sentinels to shelter nearly walked straight into the sea and had to return because he could not find his way a few hundred feet.

The account is a stark reminder of the brutality of the massive nor'easter.  The entire account is transcribed below, followed by a citation to its source.  

"STORY OF DAVIDS ISLAND.
-----
Bravery of Army Recruits During the Big Blizzard.
-----
STUCK TO POST THOUGH FROZEN.
-----

There is a hitherto untold story of the great blizzard which struck the Eastern states in the spring of 1888.  That storm was severe enough to overcome and kill a man in the sheltered streets of New York within fifty feet of his own doorstep.  This story has to do with the suffering and heroism of the members of the recruit guard at the government depot on Davids Island, New York harbor.

It was this wildest night on record in those parts, and the little unprotected island, given over to the government use as a recruiting depot, felt the force of the storm as did no other place on the seaboard.  

It had been the mildest kind of day.  The sentinel on the porch of the old frame guard house had dropped his overcoat and had buckled his belt and cartridge-box about his blouse.

Larks were singing in the strip of grass beyond the library, and robins piped in the pines by the Commandant's quarters.  At retreat parade it was growing cold, but the sun was clear in setting and touched with its beams the flag as it fell from the pole's head at gun fire.  At tattoo, 9 o'clock, it was snowing, and a gale was coming in in straight from the Sound from the east and the waves were beginning to pound the beach.  The first relief was posted, the chain of sentinels extending around the edge of the island from the guard house to the big coal sheds on the dock that pointed out toward Starin's Glen Island.  It takes ten minutes to post the Sentinel on Davids Island under ordinary circumstances.  The posting corporal returned and told Sergeant 'Billy' Pulshon, who had served from a time to which no soldiers memory ran, that it was going to be a wild night.  When the time came two hours later to post the second relief the gale had increased and was sweeping the island with fury, while the Sound was seething and  was hurling great waves on the rocks back of the barracks on the sandy beach above.

The corporal of the second relief managed to get his men posted in half an hour.  Then Sergeant Pulshon floundered through the already deep snow to the quarters of the Officer of the Day and asked permission to give orders that the sentinels might seek such shelter on their posts as they could find.  The officer looked out of the window.  A heavy porch and some big trees gave shelter to the place.  'Let them walk their posts,' he said, 'they can stand it.'  The Sergeant managed to get back to the guard.  At midnight it was a question whether or not the buildings would stand the storm's strength.  Every exposed light on the island had been blown out.  The guard house was full of snow, which came in through the window cracks.  The men were sleeping in wet blankets.  At 1 o'clock the corporal of the third relief called his men.  Outside one could see nothing, and the mingled roar of waters and howling of gale drowned all other sounds.  The relief formed in the hallway.  The Sergeant said:

'Corporal, I'll make another appeal to the Officer of the Day.  These men should be sheltered.'

He left the guard house, but in five minutes was back.

'I nearly walked into the sea,' he said.  'If it had not been for the light I never could have gotten back.'  

The Corporal turned to his relief and said:

'We must relieve the men on post.  You take what shelter you can find.  Exposure in this storm means death.'

There were eight men all told in relief.  They fell in in 'column of files' and left the guard house.  Once out from under the shelter of the porch the wind struck the members of the detail and bore its burden of snow full in their faces.  The Corporal could not see his command, so black was the night.  The soldiers were in momentary danger of piercing one another with their bayonets, their pieces being at 'secure arms.'  The Corporal ordered a halt and made his men unfix bayonets, come to a 'trail arms,' and then clasp hands.  He took the hand of the front file himself and led the way.  He headed as nearly as he could judge for the post of No. 7, back of D. Company barracks.  The distance was not more than 200 feet, but in the bewilderment of the blizzard the leader took his command to a bathhouse on the beach 150 yards from the place where the devoted sentinel stood awaiting relief.  New bearings were taken and an old soldier, who had recently re-enlisted and who was one of the relief, was brought to the front and, putting his head with that of the Corporal, a new direction was taken.  This time they found No. 7.  He was on the verge of being overcome, but was pluckily sticking to his post.  It is customary for each relieved sentinel to fall in and march with the relief until all his companions have been relieved, but the condition of No. 7 was such that it was necessary to return at once to the guard house with him, and the journey back, after posting the new man was undertaken.  The man had to be half carried and by the time warmth was reached he sank down utterly exhausted.  Hot coffee and a rubbing brought him around.  

The third relief started out again and headed for the hospital.  This building backs on the exposed east beach of the island, along which was the beat of Sentinel No. 6.The storm was from the east and this post caught its unbroken fury.  The sentinel was supposed to patrol the beach at the water's edge for its entire length of 400 feet.  When the relief finally managed to reach the hospital the men felt for the first time the full power of the storm.  As they came from the building's shelter the blast from the Sound threw them to the ground and broke the chain of hand clasps.  They struggled up and were ordered back under the lee of the building.  Then the Corporal took the man who was to relieve No. 6 and started for the beach again.  The two gripped hands and keeping close into the building managed to edge into the face of the wind.  

'If that man is on post he's dead,' said the Corporal to the recruit sentinel .  Blown here and there, soaked with the icy salt spray, and blinded by the drifting and falling snow they succeeded in covering the entire length of the post, but no sentinel could they find.  Back of the hospital and at the edge of the sentinel's post by the water stood a little wood shanty of one room and raised on brick foundations from the sand.  It was the island's dead house [i.e., a morgue].  As the Corporal and the sentinel passed in on their return the sentinel for whom they were looking came out of the door.  He was a colored lad waiting as a recruit to be sent to the negro infantry in the far West.

'I stood it out here,' he said to the Corporal, 'as long as I could.  I began to get numb and sleepy, and the wind was so strong I could not breathe, and then the spray froze on my arms and legs.  I found this door open, and saw that  could look out of the windows and so I came in.'

The Corporal led the way into the morgue again.  

'There's a dead man here,' he half gasped to the negro.

'I know it,' said the boy quietly.  'I was mighty scared at first, but I'd been dead too if I had not come here.'  -- New York correspondence of the Chicago Tribune."  

Source:  Story of Davids Island - Bravery of Army Recruits During the Big Blizzard, The New Rochelle Pioneer [New Rochelle, NY], Oct. 26, 1895, Vol. XXXV, No. 31, p. 2, cols. 1-2.  

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Thursday, March 13, 2014

The Great Blizzard of 1888 in Pelham: 126 Years Ago Yesterday and Today



It was “The Perfect Storm” of the 19th Century – one of the Great Nor’easters of recorded weather history.  Many called it “The Great White Hurricane”.  It was the Blizzard of 1888.  As one Pelham resident wrote more than fifty years later, it “became one of the times from which things were dated.”   The blizzard’s fury reached its height on March 12, 1888.  Pelham was in its midst.

One hundred and twenty six years ago today, Pelham – like much of the northeast – awoke to the waning storm and the subsequent aftermath of the “The Great White Hurricane.”   The nor’easter had struck the region with a vengeance.  Temperatures were mild on Sunday, March 11, but plunged to four degrees below zero with winds exceeding 80 miles per hour.  Records indicate that some parts of the region near Pelham received up to 32 inches of snow. 

Once the storm’s fury subsided, life in Pelham ground to a halt.  The Rev. Charles R. Gillett, retired Dean of Union Theological Seminary, lived in Pelham Manor at the time of The Blizzard of 1888.  He recorded his recollections in a manuscript now in the collection of The Office of The Historian of The Town of Pelham.  Much of the manuscript was published in 1991 in the book entitled THE PELHAM MANOR STORY.

Gillett recalled that townspeople were marooned in their homes for a week and that “[t]hey were entirely cut off from places in the neighborhood, and after the second day no one attempted to reach any of the nearby towns.”    Rev. Gillett further recalled that over the course of the week his family had only one visitor and that visitor, Henry E. Dey, had to use snowshoes to make his way over the massive snow drifts.

The Little Red Church at Four Corners, the tiny wooden predecessor to today’s Huguenot Memorial Church, showed evidence of the forcefulness of the massive storm.  During the gale, the fierce winds blew open the church doors.  The interior of the lovely little church was coated with snow, later described by one Pelham resident as “a beautiful layer of pure white snow, a very wonderful sight”.

In 1888, local government as we know it was non-existent in Pelham.  Villages had not yet been incorporated and the “Town” was entirely incapable of dealing with a storm of the magnitude of The Blizzard of 1888.  Pelham neighbors had to help one another through the ordeal, and they did.

Food, particularly meat and vegetables, was a concern.  According to one account, it was not until later in the week that Joseph English was able to make the rounds through parts of the Village of Pelham Manor to take orders from homeowners for the things they needed.   English was known as “Uncle Joe” English.  He has been described as a “lame man [who] presided for a good many years selling tickets and caring for the mail, the freight and such express matter” at the Pelham Manor Train Station on the branch line.

English and his men made a “toilsome” trip to New Rochelle to fill the orders for local residents and then delivered the supplies back to local homeowners “to the great relief of the housekeepers” who were still snowbound.

Coal for warmth was another concern.  There was no way to deliver coal on the snow-laden streets.  Thus, “those whose supply of coal was low, suffered severely”.

One of the most colorful stories about Pelham residents during The Blizzard of 1888 is one that could have ended in tragedy but, happily, did not.  Like thousands of other working men and women who awoke to nearly 10 inches of snow on Monday, March 12, two Pelham residents failed to grasp the magnitude of the massive storm and tried to reach the City early that day.

The two residents, Henry W. Taft and Alfred L. Hammett, clambered aboard the tiny little Harlem River Branch Line train that left Pelham Manor Depot at 7:37 a.m. Monday morning.   Little did they know the life-threatening risk they were taking.

The tiny little train on which they traveled was so small it was called “the little peanut train”.  It consisted of a steam locomotive, a fire tender and two passenger cars.  At that early date there reportedly was no steam heating system for the passenger cars, so “the cars were heated by a stove at the end of each car.”

After leaving Pelham Manor, the little train passed Bartow Station and Baychester Station (and its bridge) and made it to Westchester Station.  Just past Westchester Station, however, the tracks passed through a “cut” that had filled with drifting snow.  The train plowed into the deep snow drift and there it stuck, stranding its passengers like those of so many other trains in the region.

Soon the passengers had depleted all available fuel for the little stoves that heated the cars.  Next they began to break up and burn the seats of the cars for additional warmth.  Later it became apparent that they were on their own.  Messrs. Taft and Hammett decided to take matters into their own hands, concluding that “their only escape lay in an attempt to get back on foot through the drifts”.

Today’s posting to the Historic Pelham Blog transcribes yet another account by Henry W. Taft of his travails aboard the little peanut train and his and Alfred L. Hammett’s efforts to battle through the Great White Hurricane to get home that day.  Additionally, below is an actual photograph of the little peanut train, still stuck on the tracks in the giant drifts, several days after the storm.


Only Known Photograph of The Little Peanut Train on the Branch Line.
Photograph Taken Several Days After the March 12, 1888 Storm.
Photo Courtesy of The Office of The Historian of The Town of Pelham.

"Chapter II

THE BLIZZARD OF MARCH 12, 1888

If I were essaying to write an autobiography, my experience in the great blizzard of ’88 would occupy an important chapter; but my memory of such a freak of nature, fifty years after it had occurred, might be as vague as Irving’s when he confessed that he was ‘always at a loss to know how much to believe’ of his own stories.  Then too, to revive the controversies of fifty years ago as to (1) what individual had the most perilous experience, and (2) whether the storm of March 12, 1888, was a real blizzard comparable to those which frequently rage on the plains and in the mountainous regions of the great West, would be quite aside from my present purpose.  It is enough to accept the cautious statement of the weatherman of the day (Elias B. Dunn – ‘Farmer Dunn’) that two storms from opposite directions focused at New York and covered a few hundred miles radius, and that ‘the wind reached 84 miles an hour and the temperature touched 4 degrees below zero.’

With that background I may briefly summarize my own experience:  At 7:00 A.M. on March 12, 1888, I started from my home in Pelham Manor, Westchester County.  I took a train – already an hour late – which with ever-slowing pace, finally ran into a snowbank at Westchester, five miles distant, and there impotently reposed for about a week.  After eight hours of anxious [Page 16 / Page 17] waiting, with no information as to what was happening elsewhere, a neighbor and I, in the hope of receiving assistance, started for home.  We staggered through sleet and gales and mountains of snow, which obscured the roads and landmarks, and over long railroad trestles, creeping over the ties on hands and knees in the long stretches from station to station.  No human being was abroad.  No assistance was at hand and there was ‘darkness there and nothing more.’  The sense of desolation and the consciousness of impending peril marked every step.  Finally, after five hours of strenuous effort, we descried the lights of our homes and relieved our families from their natural anxiety.  I escaped any lasting physical results except that four fingers and an ear were frost bitten.

Relieved from danger and ignorant of what proved to be the enforced suspension of every business and professional activity, I was faced with the specter of a default in the case I was to try that morning, and the damage which my client would suffer and the reflex upon my own fidelity.  Telegraph and telephone communications, as well as the delivery of newspapers, were interrupted for a week.  Striving to believe that ‘They also serve who only stand and wait,’ I shoveled snow drifts ten feet high until, three days later, through favor of the railroad company, I was taken to the city on a work train. 

Reaching my office the next day (I have forgotten how), I was relieved from the anxiety suffered by everybody on account of their business obligations; for it proved that the disturbance of business and professional work was so general that there was a virtual moratorium for a week.  In none of the courts could a complete jury be impaneled.  Neither court officers nor witnesses were [Page 17 / Page 18] present.  Only one judge of several dozen of any of the courts succeeded in reaching the courthouse and in a few rooms he went through the form of announcing to empty seats an adjournment for a week.  The happenings in the courts, however, did not appeal to the reporters seeking more exciting news.  But they did gather together the news which centered around ex-Senator Roscoe Conkling.  The experiences of that conspicuous statesman had interest for everyone, and perhaps naturally, the accounts widely differed.  That generally current was that the day after the blizzard he was delirious, that an abscess on the brain followed and that he soon died.  But another account published in a weekly newspaper purporting to be from the Senator’s own lips, was to the effect that on Tuesday, March 13th, when the blizzard was still raging, he appeared in the Surrogates’ Court, and there in the presence of a group of lawyers recounted his experience of the preceding day.  But whatever the fact, the Surrogate adjourned the hearing in the Stewart will case, in which Senator Conklin and Elihu Root were among the trial counsel.  While the Senator was undoubtedly subjected to an unusual strain, he resumed his professional activities for some weeks, and it was not until April 4th that he took to his bed.  The eminent physician, Dr. Fordyce Barker, was in attendance.  There developed an ear abscess, perhaps caused by over-exertion in the month previous.  The first public alarm, however, as to the Senator’s condition, was not aroused until April 9th, when an operation was performed to free an outlet for the discharge from the abscess; but complications ensued and he died at 2 o’clock on the morning of April 17th or 18th, more than a month after his experience in the blizzard.

Excepting for what I have said, there was very little notice taken of the adventures of lawyers or the disloca- [Page 18 / Page 19] tion of the administration of justice.  This chapter may be closed, however, with one episode not heretofore noticed, which gives specific judicial confirmation to the severity of the storm.

At six o’clock on the morning of March 13, 1888, the car float of a railroad company which I represented, moored in one of the slips not far above the Battery broke her bow fastenings and swinging down collided with the boat of the plaintiff who filed a libel for damages, claiming that the fastenings were improper and insufficient.  The case was tried before Judge Addison Brown, an eminent admiralty judge.  After describing the occurrence, the judge referred to the ‘fierceness of the storm’ and the ‘immense floe of ice’ coming up the East River, causing a swinging of the car float so as to break all the lines that fastened her to a schooner lying alongside.  There had been no ice in the East River up to that time but ‘it came in in such quantities that people passed across the river, an extraordinary occurrence that happens only once in many years.’  Dismissing all of the cases of somewhat similar occurrences as presenting nothing which could have been anticipated, the judge closed his opinion with these words:

‘It was an extraordinary occurrence, not reasonably to be anticipated.  There was no previous ice to suggest the necessity of taking precautions against it, certainly none as respects such an immense floe as came in with the morning flood.  This distinguishes the present case from all those cited.  There was no time to provide any additional securities after this floe was seen coming; and the accident should, therefore be, in my opinion, ascribed, not to the omission of any reasonable precautions in fastening, but wholly to the extraordinary occasion, and to this almost unexampled storm and cold.’ 1
1 This case, Wishing v. The Transfer No. 2 and Car Float No. 12, is reported in The Federal Reporter, Vol. 56, at page 313.”

Source:  Taft, Henry W., Legal Miscellanies:  Six Decades of Changes and Progress, pp. 16-19 (NY, NY:  The MacMillan Company, 1941). 


Photograph of the Streets of New York City in the Aftermath of the
Blizzard of 1888.  There Were So Many Downed Lines within New York City
That the Storm Prompted the City to Move Utility Lines Underground.
Source of Photograph:  Wikimedia Commons.

For other accounts of the aftermath of The Great White Hurricane in Pelham, see:

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