Friday, March 31, 2017

Heroism of the 'Hello Girls'


Amidst broken glass and rising floodwaters and despite risks to their own lives, telephone operators stuck to their switchboards night and day, connecting victims with emergency aid and informing the world. Their heroism in 1913 put telephone technology on the map.

“I am from Dayton and doing research for personal history,” reader Bonnie Stalter wrote to me in March. “My husband’s grandmother Goldie Toman Miller was a long distance operator.  It had been reported that she was with John Bell on a rooftop for three days helping with emergency calls to the governor, Red Cross, National Guard etc. Can you verify that information?”
Could this be a sketch of Goldie Toman Miller in Dayton? The only description is: “The lone operator, her switchboard submerged, her companions gone, the building crumbling, mounts to the roof and, cutting into the single remaining circuits, sends out her dire news to a waiting world. This, or its equivalent, occurred not in one, but in many places throughout the afflicted region. Deeds of heroism were performed by telephone employes of both sexes…”
Telephony , April 5, 1913 , p. 1, 27.
Pursuing the elusive trail of Goldie Toman Miller on behalf of Bonnie Stalter sent me deep into exploring tantalizing allusions and snippets in newspapers that I’d been running across for over a decade.

John Bell’s legend
During the nightmare depths of the Great Easter 1913 flood in Dayton, Ohio (the city that put a human face to the multistate natural disaster), John A. Bell was District Plant Chief of the Central Union Telephone Company in Dayton. On Tuesday, March 25, after levees gave way and released devastating 10-foot walls of water through the streets of Dayton, Bell was at Central Union’s Main Exchange on West Third Street.

According to the May 1913 “Flood Edition” of Bell Telephone News, muddy floodwaters invaded the basement of the Main Exchange, putting most batteries out of service. But Bell and toll wire chief W. B. Stowell (Stowell’s initials are also given as M.B.) rescued a test magneto telephone before the rising waters could submerge it, and carried it up to the upper stories and the roof of the building. There they rigged up the test phone to get a solitary line working to Phoneton, Ohio, a tiny crossroads town eight miles north that played a huge role in the burgeoning telephone network of the new American Telegraph and Telephone Company (AT&T).
The Great Easter 1913 flood had reached halfway up the first story of the Dayton Main Exchange of the Central Union Telephone Company (gray building in the center) when someone with a small Kodak camera photographed it from the YMCA building across the street. It was from the roof of the Main Exchange that telephone personnel kept Ohio Governor James M. Cox in Columbus apprised of flood and fire in Dayton, via an emergency line patched out to Phoneton. (Floodwaters ultimately topped out well above the tops of the second story windows.)
Bell Telephone News, Flood Edition, p. 7.

In 1913, the telephone was still relatively new technology. The telegraph was still king for getting messages quickly over either short or long distances; barely one home in four had a telephone. AT&T was competing with dozens of independent telephone companies, all vying to convince the public that talking live with another human had value for both residential and business customers.

Through pure luck of geography, two farm roads crossed property somewhat elevated above Dayton right where the expanding AT&T network needed a repeater station to amplify signals in wires between Chicago and Pittsburgh. So there in the midst of farm fields, AT&T built a major communications hub in its long-distance network; supporting businesses and homes sprang up around it and came to be called Phonetown, quickly shortened to Phoneton. And so there, above the worst of the 1913 flood, Phoneton had lines and emergency circuits.
Was this romanticized drawing for an ad “Why They Stick” in the April 1923 issue of AT&T’s Long Lines magazine on the tenth anniversary of the 1913 flood meant to depict John A. Bell? It’s possible, but it would be inaccurate. Although Bell did not man a switchboard and was not an operator, the March 26, 1913 issue of the St. Louis Star said he was “chief operator” and “sat on a chair surrounded by water, working the only wire he could command;” in fact, Bell patched that line together using a lineman's test set from the roof of Central Union’s Main Exchange building.

And so, contend both newspapers and enduring legend still alive today in Dayton, Bell was able to stay on the line for three nights and days with Ohio Governor James M. Cox, keeping him informed of the outbreak of fires and other emergencies around Dayton, as well as getting news out to the rest of the world (see “The Governor’s Ear”). For his yeoman service, Cox presented Bell with a medal.

The courageous ‘hello girls’
But Bell was not the only dedicated and fast-acting telephone employee who announced news to the world and saved lives. Nor was Dayton the only city from which Phoneton relayed crucial information to Governor Cox. Nor were men the only heroes.
“Some day an epic will be written about the heroism of the telephone operator,” declared the front page of the March 29, 1913, issue of Telephony. The next week’s issue (April 5) assembled many of the press dispatches into this two-page collage.

Accounts abound about the selfless bravery of the highly trained female telephone operators—dubbed “telephone girls” or “hello girls” despite the fact that many were mature women with families—who ensured that emergency communications got through despite clear and present danger to themselves. Unfortunately, too many were anonymous, so the identity of the specific women is not always known (men, however, were usually identified by name).

About 4 AM on March 25 in northeast Ohio, operator Mrs. Harry Robbins in Gates Mills was wakened by the signal from the telephone exchange behind the grocery store across the street. (Many operators in small communities had such a signal so they could connect midnight emergency calls; some rural operators even had a switchboard  in their own homes.) When Mrs. Robbins discovered floodwaters pouring into her own basement, she began calling all the telephone subscribers in Gates Mills to warn them to get to safety from the rising Chagrin River.

In Peru, Indiana, operator Katherine Gilbreth stayed at her post for 48 hours surrounded by floodwaters eight feet deep, warning, informing, and calming telephone subscribers.
Coshocton Daily Times, March 25, 1913, p. 1.

In Warsaw, Ohio (northeast of Columbus), telephone operators stayed on duty as long as possible, despite the fact that their office was filling with floodwaters, forcing them to kneel on their chairs.

Splintered glass + unconsciousness
Meantime, several states west and two days earlier as part of the same mammoth storm system, the Great Easter 1913 Omaha tornado—still the deadliest single tornado ever to strike Nebraska—roared through the city at dinner time Sunday evening, laying waste to a track blocks wide and miles long and killing more than 100 souls (see “‘My Conception of Hell’”). The Omaha tornado directly struck the Webster Exchange of the Nebraska Telephone Company. In the moving words of an official report written by C. W. Hall, the company’s vice president and general manager within 48 hours of the tragedy (quoted in the Flood Edition of the Bell Telephone News),

The Omaha Bee, March 29, 1913, p. 7.
Webster exchange, in the center of the storm’s pathway, stood the shock well. Its windows were blown in and the glass globes from the chandeliers fell on the heads of the operators and crashed on the key-shelves. The girls themselves were blown away from the [switch]board. This was only for a moment, however. They returned at once, some bruised and many cut and bleeding. Thus injured, they worked on through all the trying hours… [T]hrough it all the poor, bleeding hands nimbly flew; the question ‘Number?’ rang out clear and distinct. Only when they had to say, ‘They don’t answer,’ did their faithful voices falter.
Some of the 176 women remained because their own homes had been destroyed, so they had nowhere to go; others stayed because of the pure call of duty and dedication. Adding to their tribulations, tornado victims rendered suddenly homeless began flocking to the Webster Exchange for aid, as the building was one of the few solid structures left in the track of the tornado. The telephone operators’ locker room was turned into a temporary first aid station and hospital, with some of the operators themselves acting as nurses; another room became a temporary morgue.
Omaha Evening World-Herald, March 26, 1913, p. 2.

Off-duty telephone operators also suffered ordeals. According to the March 27, 1913 issue of The Omaha Bee (“Telephone Girls Heroines,” p.7), one operator was walking to her job at the Douglass Exchange when the tornado roared past scarcely a block away. The strong winds picked her up bodily and blew her between two trees, knocking her unconscious. Two police officers spotted her perilous position and chopped away part of the trees to free her. She regained consciousness, but still insisted on finishing her walk to the telephone exchange, where she worked all through the night and the following day.

What about Goldie Toman Miller?
Returning to the original query from reader Bonnie Stalter: During the 1913 flood, was Goldie Toman Miller on duty working with John A. Bell to maintain connection with Phoneton? “More clarification,” Bonnie Stalter wrote. “Goldie was a chief night officer at the telephone exchange as per census record,” referring to the occupation given for her in the 1910 U.S. Census.
Head shot of Goldie Toman Miller,
courtesy William and Bonnie Stalter.

Evidence strongly suggests that John Bell was not the only person working a line to Phoneton and to the Ohio State House from the Main Exchange in Dayton. Numerous newspaper articles plus a paragraph in the April 5, 1913 issue of Electrical World  (p 701) recount how “M. B. Stohl, wire chief of the Central Union Telephone Company at Dayton” reached the exchange Tuesday morning, March 25, just before the levees broke and flooded Dayton’s streets. After the ringing generators and storage batteries were flooded, “he quickly connected a lineman’s test set to one of the outgoing toll lines and made his headquarters on the roof of the local telephone company’s buildings. Over this improvised line he held conversation with Mr. C. D. Williamson at the telephone test station at Phoneton.”

Now, in the Bell Telephone News Flood Edition’s list of employees trapped in the Main Exchange during the flood (p. 13–14), there is no M. B. Stohl. There is, however, John A. Bell’s colleague M. B. (or W. B.) Stowell with the right title who did the same things. So, clearly, most press accounts almost uniformly misspelled Mr. Stowell’s name, even in a trade journal. Not only that, but in at least one newspaper account, C. D. Williamson is shortened to Williams, and Phoneton is said to be in Kentucky rather than Ohio. So during the depth of poor communications during the frantic worst of the Great Easter 1913 natural disaster, reporters could not always nail down every detail.

Bell Telephone News, Flood Edition, p. 9.
Other short articles recount how Governor Cox was in direct communication with a “young woman telephone operator” at the Dayton exchange, who described witnessing the collapse of the flood-weakened Leonard building opposite City Hall, taking many people with it. At least two articles say that the first news of Dayton’s disaster was flashed to the world by a “girl at the main office at the long distance board” in Dayton, who communicated through a Phoneton relay operator named Mrs. Rena White Eakin (or Eaken). The unidentified Dayton operator “on her own responsibility” got messages not only to Cox but also “to officials at Cincinnati and Columbus.”

Regardless of inaccuracies and discrepancies, it is apparent that over the 48+ hours of being trapped in the Main Exchange, multiple people at Dayton were relaying essential information from the flood zone through different people at Phoneton to the governor and other necessary personnel. The most likely explanation is that during the marathon ordeal of keeping the single line open and functioning, they were relieving one another  in shifts.

Tantalizing mystery: could that unidentified Dayton operator at the long distance board have been Goldie Toman Miller?
Bell Telephone News, Flood Edition, p. 13-14 (reformatted from the two pages to fit in one graphic)

In the Bell Telephone News Flood Edition’s list of employees trapped in the Main Exchange during the flood, there is no Goldie Miller; there are only a Mary Miller and a Bessie Miller—but Miller, of course, is a common last name. Could Goldie have been at a different exchange? Could she have been overlooked? Or could she actually have been off duty before the Main Exchange was surrounded by floodwaters? The census record said she worked nights. If so, then had her shift had ended and had she gone home after work just before the first levee collapsed around 7 AM Tuesday morning, followed by another half an hour later? Possibly, but once the levees collapsed and the streets started surging with floodwaters, it is doubtful she could have made it across the swollen Miami River to her home west of Dayton.

Absence of evidence is not necessarily evidence of absence. According to family history, Goldie Toman Miller was on duty for three nights and three days, even though she was seven months pregnant (gave birth do a daughter two months later). Even though definitive verification is not readily turning up in publications, might another reader have an account of a chief night operator serving heroically even though obviously pregnant, perhaps through letters or a journal from another Central Union employee at the Main Exchange in Dayton those fateful days? If so, please contact Ms. Stalter by emailing me.

‘…put the telephone on the map!’
And the larger picture for the comparatively new and still struggling-for-market-share technology of the telephone?

“Telephone companies, too, were terribly damaged” during the tornadoes and multistate flooding of the Great Easter 1913 natural disaster, reflected J.C. Kelsey in a round-up of “Lessons from the Flood” in the April 19 issue of Telephony. “But there is a compensating feature. The flood put the telephone on the map!”
Telephony, April 19, 1913, p. 27

“The public is so accustomed to telegraph wires that they can’t imagine getting news any other way,” the magazine reflection explained. But “this time the news came by telephone… A disaster is impending—the news to flee to the hills comes by telephone!… The telephone bids fair to be the most permanent public utility, because it fits so beautifully into human crisis.”

©2017 Trudy E. Bell
Next time: Brink of Disaster?


Wednesday, March 1, 2017

Days of Warning


Why did Nebraska, Indiana, and Ohio suffer so many fatalities that fateful Easter Sunday, 1913? The violent tornadoes and flooding struck with no warning. Today many warning systems and weather safety awareness days help the public prepare. Here are a few resources.

What a difference a century makes. In 1913, meteorologists had no weather satellites or weather balloons, and did not yet know about high and low pressure areas, weather fronts, and how jet streams steer cyclonic systems across the continent (see “Be Very Afraid…”). Moreover, on Good Friday two days earlier, the commercial wireline communications systems of the era had been downed by a widespread, fierce windstorm, preventing the gathering of data or the distribution of warnings (see “The First Punch”).
To raise public awareness of severe weather akin to what afflicted the nation Easter weekend 1913, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) offers a spring safety resources outreach toolkit for tornadoes and other severe weather. Photo: Brad Goddard
Thus, no warning was relayed to people in tornado- or flood-prone areas. Indeed, fatally incorrect information was distributed in some areas. As a result, residents lacked precious moments to take shelter from tornadoes in cellars (see “‘My Conception of Hell’” and “Service Above Life”) or to clamber to higher ground to escape rivers rising with the speed of flash floods. As a tragic result, fatalities were stunningly high in regions with no warning (see “‘Death Rode Ruthless’). Fatalities were much lower farther down the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers, where cities had days to prepare for the devastating flood crests heading downriver.
Ruins of downtown Dayton, Ohio, immediately after the March 1913 floodwaters receded, while fires from ruptured gas mains were still smoldering. Library of Congress.

Warning systems
Thanks to various 20th- and 21st-century warning systems, if a repeat of the monstrous 1913 storm system struck the same areas, fatalities today due to the tornadoes and flood could well be only a fraction of what people suffered then—despite far higher population density (see “Like a War Zone”). On the other hand, infrastructure devastation could be much greater (see “Benchmarking ‘Extreme’”). 

 The National Weather Service offers any number of free email and SMS weather alert services. Smartphones can be equipped with any number of severe warning alert apps (through NOAA for free or through iTunes for a feesee websites at left). Individuals can purchase inexpensive portable NOAA weather radios (many offered online) capable of receiving the voice of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s National Weather Service, whose 24/7 broadcasts are updated every 1 to 6 hours (see NOAA brochure and comprehensive website).
 
More traditional media include The Weather Channel or other cable TV channels devoted to weather, severe weather, and history of weather disasters. To distribute flood and tornado warnings, emergency alerts also break into standard radio and TV broadcasts. Local municipalities may also sound outdoor civil defense sirens (a/k/a air-raid sirens) to warn of imminently approaching tornadoes, especially to warn farmers, construction workers, or other people outdoors who may be away from any media (see, for example, here).

The why behind the warnings
Even today during natural disasters, despite the urging of meteorologists and first responders, people sometimes elect to stay in their homes regardless of evacuation warnings due to rising floodwaters or risk of a dam break, or delay taking shelter despite tornado warnings. Or they eyeball a flooded road, judge it to be shallow enough to risk driving through what just looks like a giant puddle, and end up in a car swept away by an unseen current (water is massive, and moving water can have terrific momentum: six inches of fast-moving water can knock over an adult, and a foot to 18 inches can sweep away most vehicles, including heavy SUVs). 

Some such dismaying tragedies could be preventable if people could fully understand the deadly force of floodwaters and dangers of severe weather.
Federal Emergency Management Agency 
(FEMA) poster says it all. FEMA also 
offers a Severe Weather Safety Social 
Media Toolkit for public outreach.
To that end, many national, state, regional, and local organizations sponsor free annual public educational events about weather and dam safety, as well as about related topics such as water infrastructure. 

Despite concerning important life-or-death subjects, some awareness days in some locales are run almost like street fairs: open to the entire family, maybe with field trips or visits to laboratories or facilities, public speakers who answer questions, free literature and perhaps emergency kits for adults, and coloring books or other giveaways for kids. Even for someone with some expertise in meteorology or hydrology, these events can offer crucial “aha!” moments useful for folding into future outreach.

Below is a round-up of weather and water awareness events, starting this month (Google or contact local city or county public works departments for details about specific events in your area).

Days of Awareness
The National Weather Service (NWS) used to sponsor national weather safety weeks, but has replaced that approach with a year-found program for a simple reason: different kinds of severe weather can occur anytime, not just one week in March (or another month). The new NWS approach is a National Seasonal Safety Campaign, to prepare the public for hazardous weather year-round; see also this seasonal preparedness calendar at Ready.gov. 
Calendar of weather and water preparedness
awareness events is condensed from
 this NOAA page to focus on the 
meteorology and geography of the 1913 flood.

Relevant to severe weather of the type that afflicted the nation Easter weekend 1913, March 1 kicks off with safety awareness of spring tornadoes: see the Weather Ready Nation spring safety resources outreach toolkit for tornadoes and other severe weather, put together by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA).
 
Individual states offer their own severe weather awareness weeks, tornado drills, and/or flood safety awareness weeks at times of the year appropriate to their regional meteorology (see master calendar of these events by state for 2017) . Check details for each state’s events on that state’s website (such as this for Ohio or this for Illinois, Missouri, and Iowa).

Since the Red Cross was so instrumental in relief and reconstruction in Ohio after the 1913 flood devastated great portions of the state—a story to be detailed in the future—it is relevant to point out that March is also American Red Cross month.

In Albany, New York, and other cities during the 1913 flood, record flood crests on the Hudson or Ohio or other rivers inundated the purification works that filtered (and perhaps also chlorinated) the urban water supplies (see “Rescuing Albany’s Water”), endangering the populations with floodwaters contaminated with human and animal waste and other toxins.
This 2013 article "Angry Waters" recounts how 
sanitation engineers in Albany, New York, rescued 
the city’s water-filtration plant during the 1913 flood 
as well as demonstrated the effectiveness of 
chlorination in combating typhoid fever.

Drinkable tap water is something so easily taken for granted that people often are amazed to discover that tap water is a manufactured product requiring impressive engineering. To highlight the importance of safe drinking water for sanitation and the prevention of devastating water-borne diseases such as cholera and typhoid fever, an alliance of organizations spearheaded by the American Water Works Association (AWWA) and the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) annually sponsor Drinking Water Week in early May. The week also highlights the need for reinvesting in drinking water pipes and other infrastructure for tap water, which in many cities may be a century old. For 2017, Drinking Water Week is May 7–13; sample T-shirt art, a radio public service announcement, social media posts, children’s activity sheets, and other resources can be downloaded from this AWWA page.

Few dams failed in 1913, largely because few dams existed. But memories were fresh of the horrific Johnstown Flood of May 31, 1889 as the result of a failure of the South Fork Dam—still the deadliest U.S. dam disaster, claiming more than 2,200 lives. Thus during the 1913 flood, rumors of dam breaks that did not happen flew around Ohio and elsewhere—an incident in Columbus that led to a famous short story by humorist James Thurber (see “The Day the Dam Broke?”).

Newspaper account published in the Columbus Citizen 
 on March 27 during the height of the 1913 flood was almost 
James Thurber's plot for his famous short story “The Day the Dam Broke”
To perpetuate the lessons learned from the Johnstown Flood, since 1999, May 31 has been commemorated as National Dam Safety Awareness Day, spearheaded by the Association of State Dam Safety Officials (ASDSO) and recognized by FEMA and the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, among others. Sample resources for planning a local Dam Safety Awareness Day appear here. For a thoughtful analysis of three dangerous dam safety myths that still persist today, see “An Unnecessary Tragedy” by Indiana Department of Natural Resources engineer Kenneth E. Smith.

Miscellaneous
Related to water resources in general is National Groundwater Awareness Week, sponsored by the National Groundwater Association; this year it is March 5–11. Globally, groundwater provides 25 to 40 percent of the world’s drinking water, and 60 percent of the water used in agriculture—indeed, it is the world’s most extracted  raw material (who knew?).

If you're an engineering junkie, as I am, you'll love
visiting water works. One year, I joined a tour at
Crown Filtration during Drinking Water Week.

For a global perspective, every March 22 is World Water Day. An international day to celebrate freshwater recommended 25 years ago at the 1992 United Nations Conference on Environment and Development, the first World Water Day was held March 22, 1993 and annually since. Each year has a different theme to focus attention on different aspects of the importance of freshwater and the importance of sustainable management of freshwater resources. The theme for the 2017 day is “Wastewater.” Other water awareness events include World Plumbing Day on March 11. Some drinking water and sewage treatment facilities will also provide speakers or give tours at other times; for example, the Northeast Ohio Regional Sewer District (ya gotta love its URL) will schedule tours for school groups and others.

And emergency radio first showed its power during the 1913 flood: read the full backstory at “Wireless to the Rescue! Birth of Emergency Radio.” Thus, each April 18, the International Amateur Radio Union (IARU) commemorates World Amateur Radio Day; at the centennial of the 1913 flood, the 2013 theme was “Amateur Radio: Entering Its Second Century of Disaster Communications.” 

©2017 Trudy E. Bell
Next time: Forgotten ‘Harvest of Death’

Bell, Trudy E., The Great Dayton Flood of 1913, Arcadia Publishing, 2008. Picture book of nearly 200 images of the flood in Dayton, rescue efforts, recovery, and the construction of the Miami Conservancy District dry dams for flood control, including several pictures of Cox. (Author’s shameless marketing plug: Copies are available directly from me for the cover price of $21.99 plus $4.00 shipping, complete with inscription of your choice; for details, e-mail me), or order from the publisher.



Wednesday, February 1, 2017

1913's Wild Weather


The unprecedented Great Easter Flood was only the beginning of a year of meteorological extremes. July 1913 brought the hottest recorded temperature on Earth—still the record—in Death Valley, and November a bizarre “white hurricane” in the Great Lakes. And, oh yes, a nationwide drought. Why?

1913 was a year of total weather whiplash. 

After monumental winter and early spring storm systems that brought unusually early tornadoes that still—over a century later—count as Nebraska’s deadliest, plus sustained intense rainfall across the Midwest that caused floods that still (2017) hold records across Ohio and Indiana, it was almost as if a meteorological faucet suddenly shut off.
In 1913, Death Valley reached the highest temperature on Earth. (This happened six months after Death Valley set its own record low temperature in January 1913. And 1913 was also Death Valley’s wettest calendar year on record for 102 years.) Credit: Trudy E. Bell

From April through August, rainfall over Indiana—so recently hammered by the worst flood in its history—virtually dried up in a sustained heat wave and drought. From June 15 through July 5, temperatures topped 90 degrees nearly every day, and soared above 100 on some. Parts of the state suffered rainfall up to 10 inches below normal, aggravated by hot winds, which damaged a wide variety of crops and diminished water supplies

Nor was Indiana alone: neighboring Illinois, Kentucky also sweltered. In Kansas and parts of neighboring states, the corn crop failed. In Oklahoma and parts of Texas, the cotton crop suffered. Over much of the country, fruits, nuts, and vegetables withered. Indeed, the 1913 heat wave and drought was felt from New England to the Rocky Mountains in a “period of about 12 weeks of almost continuous excess of heat,” according to Monthly Weather Review of the National Weather Service, which devoted more than 24 pages of its September 1913 issue to discussing the drought. The heat was accompanied by almost desert-like weather “with almost continuous sunshine, frequent hot winds, and deficient humidity” that “combined to produce one of the most disastrous seasons” on record.

In Death Valley, in the midst of its own 1913 summer heat wave that had temperatures bouncing off 125 and 130 degrees at Furnace Creek (then called Greenland Ranch), that the mercury soared to 134 degrees Fahrenheit on July 10. First cited as a high-temperature record for California, it later became recognized as the “highest authentic natural-air temperature that…had ever been recorded anywhere under approved conditions of equipment and exposure”—meaning anywhere in the world. (In 1922, it was claimed to be surpassed on September 13 by a temperature of 136 degrees in Azizia, Tripoli—now El Azizia, Libya—but in 2012 after nine decades of debate, an official investigation by the World Meteorological Organization overturned that claim due to instrumental and observer errors.) In short, the hottest temperature on the planet was recorded in Death Valley in summer 1913.

But wait, there’s more. On January 8, 1913, Death Valley also reached its own low-temperature record—9 degrees Fahrenheit. That may not sound like much to people in the Midwest and Northeast, but “the great freeze” (as it came to be called) devastated the citrus industry in southern California  and directly led to the U.S. Weather Bureau’s establishing of the fruit frost forecast program. And oh, yes, 1913 in Death Valley also set the record for being the wettest calendar year (4.54 inches from January through December, more than double the usual average annual rainfall of 1.94 inches)—a record sustained for more than a century until broken by the “superbloom” year of 2005 (4.73 inches).



The ‘white hurricane’
November 7–11, 1913, not even six months after the Great Easter deadly tornadoes and flood, another tragic weather catastrophe struck the Midwest: the nation’s greatest inland marine disaster. Sustained winds of 50 to 70 mph reached hurricane-force with gusts up to 90 mph whipped up waves as high as 35 feet on the Great Lakes, sinking at least 12 ships and killing at least 250. Cleveland was buried under more than 17 inches of snow dropped in less than 24 hours.

A centennial computational simulation revealed that (echoing the Great Easter storm system) disaster came as a devastating one-two punch: a “pre-storm” of Nov. 7–8 followed by the actual “white hurricane” to deliver what is called a “meteorological bomb.”
 
Whodunit? 
Weather around the world is always violent and setting records here and there. But the confluence of so many exceptional and powerful events in 1913 (and 1912) nonplused mariners and meteorologists alike at the time, along with others having trained astute weather eyes. “Atmospheric conditions have been deranged the world over for the last two years, and the oldest mariners say that nothing like it has been known within their memory,” reported one newspaper account. “Weather bureau officials say the last week or ten days” [meaning the time leading up to the Great Easter tornadoes and floods] “has presented the most extraordinary situation in regard to the weather that has existed since the creation of the bureau,” reported another.

When in March 2006 I was driving back from a conference in Omaha and discussing this by cellphone with the late historian of astronomy Craig B. Waff, he asked: “Do you think something like a volcano could have been a cause? I’ll google on 1912 and volcano. Bingo!” And he started reading aloud about Novarupta, the biggest volcanic eruption of the 20th century, on the Katmai peninsula in Alaska. 

Six months later, I was able to write an article (published October 3 in Science@NASA) about the possible effect that this high-latitude volcanic eruption might have had on weakening the 1913 monsoons in India, based on computational simulations at NASA’s Goddard Institute for Space Studies. In 2006, when I was interviewing one of the authors (Alan Robock of Rutgers), I asked about the possibility of Novarupta’s also having some influence on the Great Easter storm system, but he had not looked into U.S. effects. 

Quite independently, Air Force meteorologist Evan Kuchera—in his own reconstruction of the 1913 Nebraska tornadoes (see “To Build a Tornado”)—had also run across similar articles quoting the amazement of meteorologists at 1913 weather. “I take such comments very seriously, because meteorologists as a group are not given to hyperbole,” Kuchera said. 
My speculative question to the Omaha-Offutt chapter of the American Meteorological Society in a September 2014 presentation on the meteorology of the 1913 flood (same presentation was also the source of the other slides above).

In September 2014, when I was presenting an invited talk on the 1913 storm system to the Omaha-Offutt chapter of the American Meteorological Society, I asked the audience of meteorologists about the plausibility of some effect from such a major volcanic eruption. “Given its placement, it likely would have had the effect of strengthening the North Atlantic Oscillation, which could have had a forcing effect in the right direction,” Kuchera mused.

To be sure, a hypothesis is not a smoking gun, nor is a top-of-head hunch scientific proof. But a volume published by the U.S. Geological Survey in 2012 for Novarupta’s centennial noted that aerosols from the powerful eruption were still suspended in the stratosphere by late 1914, which likely would have affected the radiation budget of the earth. 

Historical measurements exist and modern feedback is encouraging that the question is at least worth exploring in a quantitative manner. I would welcome contact from any computational climatologist or other expert who would be willing/able to perform some kind of simulation using either the 20th Century Reanalysis Project (as Sarah Jamison did for the rainfall of the 1913 flood; see “Be Very Afraid… ) and/or another tool. Please e-mail me!

©2017 Trudy E. Bell

Next time: Desperate Medicine

Selected references
November's Fury: The Deadly Great Lakes 1913 Hurricane by Michael Schumacher was published by the University of Minnesota in 2014. See also the older White Hurricane by David G. Brown, International Marine, 2002. 

Bell, Trudy E., The Great Dayton Flood of 1913, Arcadia Publishing, 2008. Picture book of nearly 200 images of the flood in Dayton, rescue efforts, recovery, and the construction of the Miami Conservancy District dry dams for flood control, including several pictures of Cox. (Author’s shameless marketing plug: Copies are available directly from me for the cover price of $21.99 plus $4.00 shipping, complete with inscription of your choice; for details, e-mail me), or order from the publisher.