The Great Blizzard of 1888

On March 16, 1888, The Phoenix ran the following report on the Great Blizzard of 1888, which had happened just a few days earlier.

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“Snowed Under.

Brattleboro’s Experience with a Dakota Blizzard.

40 in. of Snow in a 90-mile Gale.

Sights, Scenes and Incidents in Brattleboro on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday.

THE STORM ELSEWHERE – THE BLOCKADED TRAINS, MAILS AND PASSENGERS – PREVIOUS GREAT STORMS – NOTES OF HAPPENINGS DURING THE STRANGE VISITATION AT HOME AND ABROAD.

Vermont, with the rest of the old-fogy, slow-going East, sends greeting to Dakota and the whole of the big, booming Northwest. She has heard a great deal about what a western blizzard is like, and this week she has tried on a very lively miniature copy, about three-quarters life size, and found out a good deal about it by actual experience. The storm which prevailed during last Monday and Monday night was by far the most severe ever known by any man now living, or of which there is any record. The fall of snow was not only phenomenal in amount, but it was accompanied by a terrible gale from the northwest and north against which it was almost impossible for man or beast to make headway.

The snow began to fall Sunday evening. The day had been mild, following a bright, spring-like day on Saturday. It fell continuously during the night and at 7 o’clock Monday morning 10 inches had accumulated, the temperature still remaining mild. The morning despatch from the signal office said a cold wave was coming, and that the thermometer would fall 15 degrees before 3 o’clock. The warning proved a true one but it was not till rather later than 3 o’clock that people indoors began to realize how severe was the storm that was upon us. The snow steadily grew thicker and the wind rose as steadily. The 3:30 mail train from the north reached here nearly on time, but very soon after news came from Springfield that the Connecticut River road had discontinued all trains north, and the mail train did not go below this place. At that time snow was falling so as to partially darken the atmosphere. Enquiries at the Brattleboro weather office revealed the fact that the wind was blowing on top of Wantastiquet at the rate of 60 to 72 miles an hour, and the weather vane showed that it was “flawy,” varying from north to northwest and northeast. Down through Main st. the snow drove in almost horizontal lines. Outside it fell so thick that the outlines of buildings could not be discerned 10 rods away. From the rear windows of business blocks on the east side of Main street the Connecticut river could barely be seen. All beyond was a thick wall of falling snow. At this time the mercury had dropped to about 18 above zero. The accumulation of new snow at 5 o’clock, as shown by Mr. Child’s government registering apparatus, was 23 inches. The wind was piling it in great drifts in all the streets, and it was a serious problem how women employed in the shops and stores should get home. In point of fact, many did not attempt to go, but staid at the nearest available places.

The letter carriers stuck to their routes delivering the northern mail as long as possible, but could not in all cases complete their rounds. Mr. Malcolm Moody started to drive to his home in Centreville, but was stopped by the drifts when part way up Western Avenue, and turned back. A little later one of Ray’s coupes undertook to make the trip, but also had to give it back up. The West Brattleboro coach started up about 5:30, going by the Brook road, and was an hour and a half making the trip.

There had been no trade since noon, and the stores closed at 6 o’clock; at that hour, even merchants, clerks, and employees in the various factories found it a serious matter to breast the gale, which steadily increased in force, and make their way through the drifts. One experience of many was that of Patrick Manning, the well-known carpenter, a stout, rugged man used to out-door life, who started from Main street to go to his home on Forest Square at about 6 o’clock, and was an hour and a half getting there. He went as far as A.E. Doolittle’s at this end of the Avenue, without much difficulty, but from there one it was a hard battle with snow and wind. When he reached Cedar street he was in total darkness, and wallowed the street all over repeatedly. When he finally reached his own place on the corner he literally pitched over the hedge into his dooryard, with scarcely strength enough to get to the house.

Experiences similar to this could be related in all parts of the town – on Prospect hill, in Esteyville and elsewhere. One Estey workman, a man in delicate health, had to be carried into the house of Mr. Angier and cared for over night. Men living on Prospect street had to reach their homes by going round by some of the streets in the rear, taking a rest at neighbors’s as as they did so. Mr. B. Ranger, the veteran merchant, had a half-hour’s hard tussle making his way from Asylum street out to his house 12 or 15 rods away. Postmaster Childs encountered heavy drifts on Terrace street on his way home at 9 o’clock. He repeatedly laid down on the snow to rest, and finally reached his own door so exhausted that he had to be helped in. Mr. Wilcox, his assistant, became so exhausted in his struggle to get from the corner at A.B. Hall’s out to his house on Chapin street that he fell when half-way there and was helped into Ross White’s, where it took a half-hour’s rest to enable him to cross the street to his house. At this hour Mr. Childs’s registering apparatus showed that the wind was blowing 90 miles an hour on the mountain.

People who came up from the railroad station at 6:30 declared that they would not repeated the job for a good sum of money, and strong men were forced by the wind against the railing of the bridge and would have been thrown into Whetstone brook had it not been for the rail.

At half-past six all idea of trying to move the mail train south was given up, and the train men and passengers, some 30 or 40 in number, scattered to the hotels and various lodging places about town. Among the passengers were the lawyers from Bellows Falls, who expected to go that night to Newfane for the opening of the March term of court next day. Besides the 30 or 40 from the north were 12 or 14 Vernon men, who found themselves as far away from home as if the distance had been 100 miles instead of only five. C.P. Gibson had warning by telephone not to attempt to come home, for, his family said, even if he could get to the Dummerston station, it would be impossible for him to get across from there.

Brattleboro on Tuesday Morning

All night the snow fell and all night the wind raged. At daylight it was a strange spectacle which the town presented. It was simply one great expanse of snow with half-buried houses scattered thickly through it. There was no track of man or beast. The glittering expanse seemed to rise and fall in the streets like billows on the ocean, and here and there there were white peaks and ridges rose up 12 or 15 feet high. Many were the pranks played by the wind. Many a house-wife raised her curtains to find her accustomed view cut off by a white wall reared before the window during the night, and many a good-man opened his door to find a tall white wall barring the way. Gradually the town woke up , and here and there an individual, called by necessity, wallowed out. But in some cases even wallowing was impractical. We hear of two railroad men on Prospect hill who laid down and rolled in the big drifts, and of another long-legged denizen who threw a long ladder on the snow, walked its length, threw it in front again, and so reached a place where his legs could touch bottom.

If all the amusing experiences could be gathered up and printed they would form a long chapter. Perhaps one of the most picturesque incidents was that of our resident Judge of the State Supreme Court crawling out of his parlor window, and wallowing over to a neighbor’s telephone to send a message to the clerk of courts at Rutland, telling him that he would be on hand, when Providence permitted, and the railroads were opened, to hold the term of court set for that day.

Men who were fortunate enough to own a pair of snow-shoes put them on and came to their places of business by this primitive means of conveyance. Others less favored “tied down their trousers” and wallowed in. For once nobody was in a hurry, for the very good reason that it was a physical impossibility to hurry. The Estey factory, Smith & Hunt’s and the Carpenter factory were shut down to give time to clear away the snow, and work was not fully resumed until Thursday.

The selectmen, who had not yet become well used to their new offices as road commissioners, woke up with a sort of dazed feeling in their heads, but soon rallied, and by telephone summoned Fred Waite, Mr. Stockwell, Mr. Thayer, Mr. Allen and Henry Clark to start out with their teams in their respective sections, and do the best they could at road breaking. The first track on most of the village streets was made by a heavy pair of Stockwell’s oxen, which were drive through the drifts with a chain about their necks, making a trail where horses afterward followed. Fred Waite got down in the course of the afternoon, and most of the principal streets had a path made through them before night, but progress was slow, and there was little attempt during the day at getting about with sleighs. Dr. Holton mounted his horse and visited in this way some of the most pressing cases among his village patients. Dr. Miller was called to West Brattleboro Monday afternoon on an errand which is explained in a notice under the head of births. Although his professional services were not required after a seasonable hour in the evening, he did not get back to this village until late Tuesday afternoon, when he returned on horseback, his sleigh and harness having been left in a big drift in West Brattleboro.

It was impossible for the grocers or butchers to serve their customers except as a few packages were sent here and there on foot. About 8:30 in the morning a half-dozen men from Richardson’s were seen trudging and wallowing up Main street with bags swung over their backs, which contained the day’s supply of sausages for the asylum. For 20 hours no team could get from the business part of Main street to the asylum. Mr. Thurber, who is making the bread for a few days during the illness of the asylum baker, attempted to send up a load Monday afternoon at 4 o’clock, but the team could only get as far as the top of the hill by the common, and it was not until Tuesday noon that the supply was got up there.

There was a milk famine which lasted until the milkmen got into town – some of them on Wednesday and some of them not until Thursday morning. Henry Clark succeeded in getting a supply to the Brooks House Tuesday afternoon in season for supper.

An illustration of the difficulty of locomotion is furnished by the fact that Mr. Doolittle of Hartford, brother-in-law of Mrs. F.F. French, whose husband then lay dead in the house, came down Monday afternoon to send a telegram to his wife, and was unable to get back until Wednesday morning.

Richardson & Co. found it impossible to bring their teams away from the slaughter house Monday night, and they staid there until Thursday.

The favors of the snow were pretty evenly distributed over town, but Grove street undoubtedly “takes the cake” for being “chock full.” A drift against J. Henry Pratt’s garden was full 15 feet high on Tuesday morning, and all the way down the street the snow was piled in six and eight deep by the lusty north wind. On the Avenue, from S.T.R. Cheney’s up to J.E. Hall’s at Spruce street corner, the snow was piled in 10 feet deep on the sidewalk, and this was about a fair sample of the Avenue all the way up. One of the sights in Esteyville was the space between two two-story houses piled in as high as the eaves. Canal street, not to be out-done, brags of the ell of Bradley Prentiss’s house being completely buried. Something similar happened to a house on Prospect hill. In the latter locality Washington, Pearl and Thomas streets were the worst drifted. On Tuesday a shovel brigade of 20 residents united their forces, and made a passage way through Washington and So. Main streets, and on Wednesday seventeen shovelers did a like service for Pearl and Thomas streets.

One of the near-by sights was Elliot street, less than a stone’s throw from Main street, drifted eight feet high between Market block and the buildings opposite, so that a man on one side of the street could not see his neighbor on the pavement opposite. On Main street, after the roofs and pavements were cleared, the snow was piled higher than men’s heads and higher sometimes than they could reach. In the morning teams had to take as much care in passing as through on a drifted road in the open country.

The common looked like a small section of the arctic circle.

Anxiety was felt about fire Monday night, and the firemen staid all night in the engine house ready for an emergency. It would have been impossible to get the steamers through the streets, but the boys say they could have carried lines of hose on their backs, and run them out from the headquarters.

During Monday afternoon, while Pullen Bros.’ grocery team was driving along Asylum street, a gust of wind swept across the common and the storm-cover or extension top off the forward traverse, dumped it in the snow, and horse, traverse and driver came to town thus dismantled. The storm-cover was whirled away and landed top down over alongside Dr. Draper’s house.

J.C. Howe spent Tuesday making views about town, and in due time he will exhibit some picturesque bits of winter scenery which it will be of interest for the great- grandchildren of this generation to compare with the big blizzard of, say, 1960, while they search the public library for a copy of The Phoenix of March 16, 1888.

The Railroads.

The most of the day Tuesday was spent in clearing away the snow in the railroad yard so as to make locomotion possible there. The new London Northern snowplow was started down the track and at 3:30 the stalled mail train of the day before was sent following on, but it only got as far as Vernon station, the plow being stuck in an immense drift at Whithed’s. The train was pulled back to Brattleboro and the passengers once more settled themselves in the Brooks House and elsewhere. About 11 o’clock Wednesday morning the Valley snow-plow came down from Bellows Falls with two big engines behind it, and the snow flying all about in an immense cloud. Half an hour later a passenger train followed, adding to the already large number of blockaded passengers who waited anxiously for the opening of the road below. The New London snow plow labored for more than 24 hours with the big drift on and beyond the curve at Whithed’s, but finally pushed down through and went on to Miller’s Falls Wednesday night. The Connecticut River road meantime had been opened from Springfield to Greenfield, but the snow plow and shovelers were still working at a long, deep drift at Bernardston. This was got through during Wednesday night, though the big plow was once broken by driving against the wall of snow. At 7:30 Thursday morning a train was despatched for Miller’s Falls and at 8 o’clock one for Springfield, and communication was once more established with the outside world after being shut off just 72 hours. The first mail from Boston came from the north at 10 o’clock that morning. It is needless to say that no living railroad man remembers anything like such an experience as that of this week.

On the train which came down Wednesday morning as a carload of Canadian Frenchmen, men, women and children, bound for Three Rivers, Mass. They had already spent three nights in the car en route and the one at Brattleboro made the fourth, but they seemed to be happy and comfortable after their fashion.

On the same train was Rev. Horton Fowler of Halifax, who had been on a visit to Canada. He brought with him a pair of snow-shoes, the gift of a nephew, and on these he skipped away “across lots” toward home in the afternoon, as if the snow was his native element. We imagine his performance, an old-time accomplishment, would have put our local snow-shoers to the blush had they seen it.

“We don’t count eight feet of snow anything here,” despairingly added Superintendent Mulligan to a telegram of information sent to Conductor Sampson of Brattleboro on Wednesday morning.

Among the detained passengers was Mr. Hiram Hitchcock, one of the proprietors of the Fifth Avenue hotel in New York. He arrived Monday afternoon from the north. Tuesday afternoon he had a despatch from the hotel saying that three feet of snow had fallen in the city and announcing the blockade of the Pennsylvania road.

The Oldest Inhabitant.

We confess that we have, on sundry former occasions, made sneering and offensive remarks about “the oldest inhabitant,” and his phenomenal memory, but in this instance we give him credit for truth, sincerity, and a clear head when he says that he remembers nothing like this storm. There have been many heavy falls of snow, and many high winds, but none where snow and wind came together as on Monday and Monday night. We suppose that, given a temperature of 20 to 40 degrees below zero, our experience would have been that of the great Northwest in a regulation blizzard. We did the best we could with the material at hand, and we hope our Dakota and Minnesota friends will no longer point the finger of scorn at us. 

Cupid Snowed In

One of the serio-amusing incidents of the situation on Monday and Tuesday was the case of the Putney bride-elect whose wedding day was set for Tuesday. She came to Brattleboro  Monday morning to make some final purchases of wedding finery, but when night came the trains were not running north, the walking was bad, and she was constrained to stay in Brattleboro over night. Tuesday was a long, long day, but the young woman’s face was longer than the day, and there was a suspicion of redness and wetness about the eyes when ever and anon she sought the telephone to assure the would-be benedict at the Putney end that she really and truly didn’t mean to leave him to mourn, and it was the horrid, horrid snow that kept her from flying to his arms. She got away home on the train Wednesday noon, and on Thursday morning she was once more in Brattleboro, but only so long as the ten o’clock train stopped here. This time her face was short and sweet and smiling; for had not the twain been made one, and were not they started on their wedding journey?

The Phoenix Extra

By Wednesday night, in the absence of any daily papers, and with no certainty that any would be received the next day, the public began to clamor for news of the outside world, and The Phoenix, with the assistance of Capt. Childs of the Springfield Republican, gathered by long distance telephone a summary of facts about the great storm, and at 7 o’clock Thursday morning this was issued in the form of a Phoenix extra. Nine hundred copies were printed, and these were eagerly seized and literally “devoured” throughout the village. The contents of the extra were given by telephone to the various offices on the exchange in the hill and West River towns, and gave them the first outside news about the great blizzard of 1888,

No News from the County

It is a curious and, in our day, an unheard of experience – that of going to press with no mails whatever from the interior of the county. Inquiry by telephone this morning brings this unvarying answer: “There is no news; we are blockaded – completely snowed in – and are doing the best we can to shovel out.” From West Dummerston we learn that the quarrymen could not get to the village Monday night, and after making the attempt, turned back and staid at the quarry.”

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The report goes on with news of  the storm in Washington, New York, Connecticut, Massachusetts, and around Vermont. It lists notable facts and related news, and reports on great storms of the past.