Return to Old News home pageEditor's Note:
Dr. S. O. Young was not a professional meteorologist--he worked as Secretary
of the Cotton Exchange and Board of Trade in Galveston, Texas--but he enjoyed
trying to forecast the weather. On Tuesday morning, September 4, 1900, he
began to think that a cyclonic storm would soon blow into Galveston from
the Gulf of Mexico.
Cyclones often had dramatic consequences in Galveston, which was built on
a low-lying island two miles off the coast of Texas, between the Gulf of
Mexico and Galveston Bay. Many of the city's thirty-eight thousand citizens
lived in flood-prone areas, where the streets were sometimes covered by
storm-driven high tides. Dr. Young's own house-lot and sidewalk were elevated
four feet above street-level as a precaution against floods.
On Wednesday, September 5, heavy surf began pounding the beaches of Galveston.
The surf became even more violent on Thursday, confirming that a major storm
was developing over the Gulf of Mexico.
In 1900 there was no way of directly tracking storms at sea. Dr. Young tried
to guess the storm's location and course by noting changes in barometric
pressure in various American cities, as reported in daily telegraph bulletins.
At the request of some friends, Dr. Young drew a chart showing the probable
track of the cyclone. He believed that it was moving northeast from Yucatan,
and would strike the southern coast of the United States east of Galveston,
perhaps at New Orleans.
Dr. Young later wrote the following report:
by Dr. S. O. Young
The error I made was in placing the cyclone's course too far east.
My residence was within two blocks of the beach, so I had ample opportunity
to observe the Gulf. Friday night [September 7, 1900] there was a strong
wind from the north, and Saturday morning, about six a.m., I went on the
beach. I saw that the tide was high, but that it had fallen again and was
then at a stand. While I was out there the tide began to rise again, and
soon washed up to and over the street railway track. I was certain then
that we were going to have a cyclone, and as soon as I could get to town
I telegraphed my wife, who, with my children, was on a Southern Pacific
train coming from the West, to stop at San Antonio. I told her that a great
storm was on us, but not to say anything about it and not to feel anxious
about me.
By twelve o'clock the wind had increased in violence to between forty and
fifty miles an hour, blowing from the north, and the water, both in the
bay and Gulf, was very high and still rising. At one o'clock I visited the
wharf front. The wind had shifted to a point or two east of north, and was
over fifty miles an hour. The bay water was over the wharves and was slowly
encroaching on the Strand. All low places were completely inundated.
From the bay I went to the Gulf side, and found the tide very high and the
water very rough. At two o'clock I concluded to go home and look after things
there. My residence was on the northeast corner of Avenue P1/2 and Bath
Avenue. As both P1/2 and Bath avenues were low at that point, my sidewalk
had been curbed up about four feet and the whole lot raised four or five
feet above the level of the street. When I got home I found about two feet
of water on my lot. I sat on my front gallery [a two-story veranda] and
watched the water. It rose gradually until the third step was underwater,
when it apparently stopped rising and for over an hour remained stationary.
My house, a large two-story frame building, stood on brick pillars about
four feet high, so I had no fear of the water coming into the house. I dismissed
a Negro boy I had with me, went inside and proceeded to secure the windows
and doors, and to make everything shipshape before dark, for I felt pretty
sure the electric lights would all be knocked out.
At four o'clock the water was two feet deep on my ground floor and was rising
gradually. The wind had hauled further to the east and was blowing at a
terrific rate. I moved my chair near the window and watched the water as
it flowed down Avenue P1/2 to the west at a terrific rate, carrying wretched
shanties, boxes, barrels, wooden cisterns, and everything else that fell
in its power. The flow was almost exactly from east to west, just as the
streets run, for a box or barrel that passed my house, in the middle of
the street, kept the same position as far as I could see it.
Between five and six o'clock the wind became almost due east and increased
in violence. The debris fairly flew past, so rapid had the tide become.
At twenty minutes to six o'clock (I am exact because I noticed my large
clock had stopped, and wound it up and set it by my watch) there was a marked
increase in the violence of the wind. I went to a west window to watch a
fence I had been using as a marker on the tide. While I was looking, I saw
the tide rise fully four feet in one bound. In a few minutes several houses
on the south side of P1/2, between Twenty-fifth and Twenty-sixth, went to
pieces and floated away, and the debris from a number of large buildings
began to float by from the east.
It was then getting dark very rapidly. I turned on my lamps; but, as I had
anticipated, there was no electricity. I had found a candle and lit that,
then I thought I had best save it, so I blew it out, got a comfortable armchair
and made myself as comfortable as possible. Being entirely alone, with no
responsibility on me, I felt satisfied and very complacent, for I was fool
enough not to be the least afraid of wind or water.
About seven o'clock I heard heavy thumping against the east side of my house,
and concluded it was downstairs in one of the lower bedrooms. I lit the
candle and went to the stairs, and found the water was very nearly to the
top of them. I put the candle down, went to the front door, and opened it.
In a second I was blown back into the hall. I eased myself along the east
side, caught the door knob, then the side of the door on the gallery and
drew myself out far enough to catch hold of a blind, and, clinging with
both hands, I drew myself out on the gallery [on the second story] and stood
there. The scene was the grandest I ever witnessed. It was impossible to
face the wind which had now increased to fully one hundred miles an hour.
It drove sheets of spray and rain which were blinding.
The roar was something awful. I could see to the right and to the left,
and so far as I could see, only my house and that of my next-door neighbor,
Mr. Youens, were left standing. All the others were gone, and we were left
practically out in the Gulf of Mexico. About two minutes after I got on
the gallery, I saw Mr. Youens's house begin to move forward. It turned partly
around and then seemed to hang as if suspended. Suddenly the wind increased
in violence. Mr. Youens's house rose like a huge steamboat, was swept back
and suddenly disappeared. I knew that he had his family with him, his wife,
son, and two daughters, and my feelings were indescribable as I saw them
go.
The new position of the wind and its increased violence caused a sudden
rise in the water, and at one bound it reached my second story and poured
into my room. The wind again increased. It did not come in gusts, but was
more like the steady downpour of Niagara than anything I can think of. One
of the front posts of my gallery blew out, split my head open, and mashed
my shoulder badly. I was knocked insensible for a moment, but pulled myself
together and hung on.
The constant shaking and jarring had loosened the front door, and I saw
I could tear it loose from the top when the crash came, so I kept hold of
it all the time. I had outlined a plan of campaign from the first and carried
it out to the letter. The other posts and railing of the gallery blew away
like straws. The top of the gallery was lifted up and disappeared over the
top of the house. The gallery floated away and, with one foot inside the
door, I was left hanging against the front of the house. It was an easy
thing to stay there, for the wind held me as firmly as if I had been screwed
to the house.
It is hard to believe, but still it is true. A little after eight o'clock
the wind actually increased in violence. I am confident I do not exaggerate
a bit when I say it was blowing fully a hundred and twenty-five miles an
hour. I could see into the hall, and saw a beautiful phenomenon when the
wind was at its height. Whether from phosphorescence of the sea water or
from electricity generated by the high wind, I can't say, but from whatever
cause it was, the drops of rain became luminous as they struck the wall,
and it looked like a display of miniature fireworks. The luminous particles
were about the size of a pin head, though one ball, about half as large
as a boy's marble, formed on the door facing and slowly slipped down into
the water.
The wind at a hundred and twenty-five miles an hour is something awful.
I could neither hear nor see when it was at its height, and it was difficult
to breathe. I am nearly six feet in height, and estimating the surface of
my body exposed to the wind at five square feet, my body sustained at that
time a pressure of three hundred and ninety pounds. I began to think my
house would never go. The wind acted as if it thought so, too, for it got
harder and harder and harder until finally I felt the house yielding. I
took a firm hold of my door, placed both feet against the house, exerted
my full strength, tore the door loose [and used it as a raft]. As the house
went I kicked myself as far away from it as possible, so as to avoid sunken
debris rising to the surface.
The house rose out of the water several feet, was caught by the wind, and
whisked away like a railway train, and I was left in perfect security [floating
on the door], free of all floating timber or debris, to follow more slowly.
The surface of the water was almost flat. The wind beat it down so that
there was not even the suspicion of a wave.
The current impelled by the wind was terrific. Almost before I had felt
I had fairly started I was over at the Gartenverein, four blocks away. The
next moment I was at the corner of the convent. Here I got in a big whirlpool
and caught up with a lot of debris. I was carried round and round until
I lost my bearings completely, and then floated off (as I found afterwards)
to the northwest, finally landing in the middle of the street at Thirty-fourth
and M1/2, or fifteen blocks from where I started.
It was very dark, but I could see the tops of some houses barely above the
water; I could see others totally wrecked and others half submerged. I knew
it was not so very late, and as I could not see a light or hear a human
soul I concluded that the whole of that part of town had been destroyed
and I was the only survivor. For eight hours I clung to my board, which
had found a good resting place, and during the whole time I did not hear
a human voice except that of a woman in the distance calling for help.
The wind beat the rain on me and nearly froze me to death. I was never so
cold in my life. I think I had at least a dozen good hard chills before
the water fell sufficiently for me to wade to a house half a block away,
a little elevated cottage of two rooms in which I found fifteen or twenty
colored people, who forgot their own misery when they saw me bareheaded,
covered with blood and shaking with cold. They pulled me in out of the rain,
wrapped some half-dry clothes about my shoulders to get warmth in my body,
and for a moment forgot their own misery.
When daylight came two of the men piloted me to town, where I met a friend
whose room had escaped destruction. He took me there, sent for a doctor,
had my wounds dressed, and by nine o'clock I was myself again, and, except
for weakness from loss of blood, was as well as ever.
In conclusion, I desire to say this of the storm. In my opinion it began
south of Cuba, developed fully near Yucatan, came to the northwest, landed
at Galveston, its center passing south of Galveston between six o'clock
and seven o'clock Saturday evening, and that it was from two hundred to
three hundred miles in diameter. It passed to the northeast, going out of
the United States, over the Great Lakes through Canada, and died out in
the far North Atlantic. I have seen absolutely no report of this storm,
but this is my conclusion from my observation.
Editor's Note:
Large sections of Galveston had been destroyed by the hurricane, which killed
at least five thousand people in the city. After cleaning up the wreckage,
the survivors rebuilt Galveston, and the city soon regained its former importance
as one of the world's greatest cotton-shipping ports.
SOURCE:
The Great Galveston Disaster. by Paul Lester. Globe Bible Publishing Co.
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. 1900.
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