“Killer ‘Canes!” Florida’s 20th-Century Hurricane History

Summary Dipping into the Gulf of Mexico like a toe extending into a warm bath, the Florida Peninsula is a balmy paradise for millions of residents and vacationers, the great majority of which have never experienced the destructiveness of a hurricane. But Florida has had a long and brutal hurricane history, especially in the last century, when rapid settlement and development increased our vulnerability to major storm events. In this lesson, students will explore ten of the most vicious hurricanes of 20th-century Florida. Objectives Students will:

1.) become introduced to the physical nature of a hurricane; 2.) read one of ten accounts of hurricanes that plagued Florida in the 20th century; 3.) plot the track of a hurricane using coordinates and a hurricane tracking map; 4.) create a newspaper front page detailing the exploits of a hurricane.

U.S. History Event or Era This lesson covers Florida’s 20th-century hurricane history, and the storm’s effects on the settlement of Florida. Grade Level This lesson could be implemented into a middle school or high school classroom; with adaptations, it could also be used in the elementary school classroom. Materials Digital photo of satellite image of hurricane or hurricane-induced damage found on the Internet, transparency of photo, overhead projector, hurricane tracking maps for students (can be downloaded from various websites, or picked up at various local Publix supermarkets), “Hurricanes in Florida” reading passage (found at http://fcit.usf.edu/florida/lessons/hurricane/hurricane.htm ) and discussion questions; PDF version also available), colored pencils, copies of individual hurricane readings, computer lab (optional), class matrix headings, a class bulletin board to include student “newspaper headline” creations, and newspapers Lesson Time Allow two forty-five minute periods for the completion of this lesson.

Lesson Procedures

1.) Before students enter your classroom to participate in this lesson, you will need to make several copies of the hurricane-tracking charts. Students will make mistakes on tracking storms occasionally, so when they do, the easiest thing to do is to give them another tracking chart. If you decide to use the hurricane-tracking charts found in Publix’s “A Guide to Hurricane Safety,” the best copies are made by cutting out one of the charts from the guide, taping it to an 8” X 14” piece of copy paper. Then, print the “Hurricane Matrix” headings for each hurricane included in this lesson and run them in order across the top of the wall (or whiteboard) in the front of the classroom.

2.) As students enter the classroom, have a visually-appealing photograph of a hurricane or hurricane-caused damage showing on the overhead projector or on a scan converter from your computer monitor. Have your students answer several spiraling questions about the picture for 5-7 minutes (Optional: you may want to play some hurricane sound effects for students; there are many different sound-effect CD’s available at local stores, or your school TV studio may have one). Hurricane photos can be found at http://www.photolib.noaa.gov/historic/nws/index.html . Two examples are provided in the Activities section.

3.) Allow students several minutes to discuss their answers to the questions on the opening picture. Then, tell the students that they will be learning about hurricanes in today’s lesson; specifically, exactly what a hurricane is, where the word “hurricane” comes from, and the number of categories for a hurricane. After they learn the ins and outs of hurricane science, they will read about a particularly devastating hurricane(s) that has struck Florida sometime in the last century.

4.) Place students in heterogenous, mixed-ability pairs and give each pair a copy of “Hurricanes in Florida,” found at http://fcit.usf.edu/florida/lessons/hurricane/hurricane1.pdf (if your computer can not open PDF files, either go to www.adobe.com and download the free Adobe Reader, or open the file at http://fcit.usf.edu/florida/lessons/hurricane/hurricane.htm ). Instruct the students to read the passage and answer the discussion questions together. After students have begun the reading of “Hurricanes in Florida,” pass out to each pair the discussion questions found in the Activities section. Note: depending on the number of students, you may have to have more than one pair learn about the same hurricane, or place students in groups of three.

5.) Allow students to share their answers to the discussion questions on “Hurricanes in Florida.” After 5-7 minutes, or whenever you feel that your students have a firm grasp of the information, give each pair one of the ten individual 20th-century Florida hurricane reading passages found in the Activities section. Also give each pair a copy of “Hurricane Reading Notes (found in the Activities section),” a hurricane-tracking chart (either found on the Internet, at Publix, or some other source) and a colored pencil that corresponds to their hurricane’s coordinates. Each hurricane’s track is color-coded to better enable you, the teacher, to check each pair’s work for accuracy with your Hurricane Tracking Chart Answer Key (provided in the Assessment section).

6.) Explain to students that their tasks include reading the account of their hurricane, plotting the hurricane’s coordinates on their hurricane-tracking chart, and taking careful notes about what they read on their “Hurricane Reading Notes.” Later, pairs will use these reading notes to create the front page of a newspaper from a city in Florida that has just experienced the hurricane they read about, complete with sensational headlines, eye-catching photos or drawings, and short articles.

7.) Allow 25-30 minutes (more or less depending on the abilities of the students) to finish completing the reading notes and charting their hurricane. When all pairs are finished, have them come up to the front of the classroom and present the information on their reading notes about their hurricane. Then, have them tape their reading notes and hurricane-tracking chart underneath their hurricane’s heading on the classroom’s “Hurricane Matrix.”

8.) (Optional) Allow students to work in the computer lab as pairs to find several (4-5) pictures/photos on the Web to include in their newspaper front page. Show them how to use a search engine and type in keywords in order to find information about their hurricanes. Then, allow class time for students to view real newspapers and develop their own “Hurricane! Special Edition!” newspaper, dated appropriately.

9.) After students have completed their “front pages (they may use regular copy paper),” display them on the bulletin board.

Activities

Picture G-5-1: A piece of plywood driven through the trunk of a royal palm What do you see in this picture? Using the visual clues in this picture, where do you think that it might have been taken? Is there anything in nature or man-made that you can think of that could accomplish this? The picture above was taken just after Hurricane Andrew struck southern Dade County, Florida, in late August 1992. When the damage was assessed, Andrew became known far and wide as the most destructive hurricane that had ever hit the United States. Picture found at http://www.photolib.noaa.gov/historic/nws/andy2.html

Overhead Transparency G-5-1

Picture G-5-2: Damage caused by Hurricane Andrew on cul-de-sac and surrounding neighborhood in Miami

Picture G-5-3: Homes destroyed in Miami neighborhood after Hurricane Andrew passed through. Notice the front door to the house across from the car is still standing.

What do you see in these pictures? Do you think that the event that caused this damage was an act of war or of nature? If you think it was a natural event, how would you prepare for something like this? Both of these photos are of damage caused to residential areas by Hurricane Andrew, a Category 5 hurricane that hit the Miami area in August 1992. As evidenced in the pictures, Andrew was the costliest natural disaster to ever strike the United States. The property damage was well over $30 billion! Pictures found at http://www.photolib.noaa.gov/historic/nws/andy2.html

Overhead Transparency G-5-2

Discussion Questions for “Hurricanes in Florida”

1.) What was probably the earliest origin of the word “hurricane”? a. The Spanish b. The Taino Indian word “huracan” c. “Huraken,” the Mayan god of bad weather 2.) Why is Florida vulnerable to hurricanes? _____________________________________________________

3.) Which of the following statements about hurricanes is incorrect? a. Hurricanes are severe tropical storms that form over warm ocean waters—usually starting as storms

in the Caribbean or off the west coast of Africa; b. As the storms drift slowly westward, they gather heat and energy through contact with warm ocean

waters; c. Evaporation from the seawater decreases their power; d. The most violent part of a hurricane is at the edges of its eye, called the eye wall.

4.) What three things associated with hurricanes can cause damage to buildings, trees, and cars? a. _______________________ b. ________________________ c. _______________________

5.) When does the Atlantic hurricane season begin and end? ______________________ to ______________________________

6.) What are the differences between a hurricane watch and a hurricane warning? Hurricane watch: ___________________________________________________________ Hurricane warning: ___________________________________________________________

7.) Why were no hurricanes prior to 1953 named? ____________________________________________

____________________________________________________________________________________

Following are a few hurricanes that have struck Florida in the last century. How strong was each hurricane? 8.) Hurricane of 1926 Category _____ 9.) 1935 Labor Day hurricane Category _____ 10.) Hurricane Donna Category _____

Hurricane Coordinates (for teachers)

October 1906-Blue October 1909-Red 13 N, 57 W 16 N, 82 W 14 N, 67 W 18 N, 84 W 15 N, 70 W 19 N, 84 W 16 N, 75 W 20 N, 85 W 18 N, 80 W 22 N, 84 W 21 N, 83 W 24 N, 82 W 24 N, 82 W 25 N, 80 W 26 N, 80 W 27 N, 79 W 29 N, 79 W 29 N, 77 W 32 N, 77 W 31N, 76 W October 1921-Green September 1926-Orange 10 N, 82 W 18 N, 45 W 13 N, 83 W 20 N, 55 W 16 N, 84 W 21 N, 65 W 19 N, 85 W 22 N, 70 W 23 N, 86 W 25 N, 74 W 26 N, 85 W 26 N, 78 W 28 N, 83 W 26 N, 80 W 29 N, 81 W 27 N, 84 W 30 N, 77 W 29 N, 87 W 29 N, 75 W 31 N, 88 W September 1928 & 1945-Purple September 1935-Aqua 17 N, 48 W 24 N, 67 W 17 N, 53 W 24 N, 72 W 16 N, 61 W 23 N, 77 W 19 N, 67 W 24 N, 80 W 22 N, 72 W 26 N, 83 W 24 N, 76 W 28 N, 84 W 26 N, 79 W 29 N, 83 W 28 N, 82 W 32 N, 83 W 31 N, 82 W 35 N, 80 W 33 N, 79 W 37 N, 70 W

September 1950-Black September 1960-Yellow 18 N, 83 W 17 N, 50 W 28 N, 83 W 18 N, 62 W 29 N, 84 W 21 N, 69 W 28 N, 85 W 23 N, 78 W 29 N, 83 W 26 N, 82 W 30 N, 84 W 28 N, 82 W 29 N, 85 W 31 N, 80 W 28 N, 81 W 33 N, 78 W 30 N, 82 W 35 N, 75 W 33 N, 84 W 39 N, 73 W

August 1992-Lime Green August 1995-Maroon 18 N, 55 W 25 N, 60 W 24 N, 63 W 25 N, 65 W 26 N, 67 W 26 N, 70 W 26 N, 71 W 26 N, 75 W 26 N, 75 W 27 N, 79 W 26 N, 84 W 28 N, 81 W 26 N, 87 W 29 N, 85 W 27 N, 91 W 29 N, 87 W 29 N, 92 W 31 N, 88 W 32 N, 93 W 34 N, 89 W

Hurricane Tracking Answer Key (for teachers)

The ‘Canes of October 1906 & 1909

Throughout the 1880s and 1890s, financier and developer Henry Flagler planted the seeds of future growth along Florida’s entire eastern shore. His Florida East Coast Railway steadily grew southward, from St. Augustine to Palm Beach to Miami. Along the way, Flagler built elegant resorts like the Ponce de Leon Hotel in St. Augustine, which opened in 1888. These grand resorts attracted wealthy and adventurous northerners who brought further development to Florida’s growing cities. But Flagler’s most astonishing feat was yet to come. Extending his railway southward to Key West was his next great ambition, and this massive engineering effort began early in 1905. The isolated existence of the Keys pioneers was about to be changed forever with the construction of the Overseas Railroad. Building the railroad was a huge undertaking. Hundreds of workers cut through thick mangrove forests and hardwood hammocks and dumped millions of cubic yards of rock and fill into the shallow waters that surrounded the Keys. The project was sure to take years, even if the weather cooperated. Apparently, the weather had other plans, for two great hurricanes would strike the Keys in the span of three years. On October 11, 1906, a hurricane was first observed as a tropical storm near the Windward Islands. Within a few days, it was rounding the western tip of Cuba as a hurricane and turning toward the Straits of Florida. The storm was already starting to blow as Flagler’s workers went to bed on the night of October 16th aboard the large houseboats they lived on at Long Key. They got very little sleep. Early on the morning of the seventeenth, the hurricane roared up the Keys and swept through the labor camps that housed the men. Almost all of the houseboats were swept out to sea in the storm, and at least 124 workers were killed. One of the most tragic events was the sinking of House Boat No. 4. The Tampa Morning Tribune printed a firsthand report from one of the wreck’s survivors, W.P. Dusenbery:

“At 5AM on the morning of the hurricane, with 150 men, he was aboard House Boat No. 4. This boat was moored to six pilings that were driven into solid rock to a depth from 6 to 8 feet. This mooring was lost at 5AM by the breaking of the chain, which was felt no more than if a thread had been pooped. The vessel drifted in a southeasterly direction into the Gulf Stream and toward the Bahamas. One hour after reaching the Gulf Stream, with seas breaking over her 50 to 60 feet high…, the craft was beaten to pieces. The men were then left to fare for themselves. The lumber of the houseboat was very light and most durable and…many found rest and safety clinging to wreckage. Other men before his eyes, while not drowned, were cruelly beaten to death by timbers hurled against them. Thus far of the 150 men that were with him, only 73 have shown up, and as far as he knows, only 77 out of 210 workmen have been accounted for.”

The storm apparently cut a narrow path across the Keys. The hurricane’s eye passed over Long Key, where groves of coconut trees were split to pieces and destroyed, whereas in areas twenty miles to the east and west, trees were not damaged. Winds near the storm’s center were estimated to have been over 100 MPH. Damage was also reported in Miami (street flooding, telegraph wires blown down, and the telegraph office flooded), Jupiter, and even St. Augustine, which experienced its highest storm tide in over a decade. Considering the combined losses from the Keys, the Florida coast, and Cuba, the October 1906 hurricane was a truly tragic storm. A Miami newspaper estimated the death toll at over 400. Almost three years later to the day, another hurricane would strike the Keys, causing more damage to Flagler’s dream of an Overseas Railway. On October 10th, 1909, a particularly strong hurricane passed over western Cuba, and the national Weather Bureau issued warnings that a storm was on the way. The next morning, the hurricane drew closer, finally passing over the Keys on a northeasterly track that carried it to the Bahamas on the morning of the twelfth. At Sand Key, about eight miles southwest of Key West, the Weather Bureau maintained a station. At 8:30AM on the day the storm passed through the Keys, the station was abandoned, and the weather instruments and supplies were taken to the nearby lighthouse. Shortly thereafter, the storm’s winds were measured at 100MPH before all trees and fences on the island were blown away and a storm tide washed over the island. The Weather Bureau building was even washed out to sea! At Key West, winds were clocked at just under 100MPH and over six inches of rain fell in two hours and fifteen minutes. Four hundred buildings were either swept away by the tide or collapsed by high winds. High tides floated many structures off their foundations, placing them in city streets and on vacant lots. In the harbor and along the waterfront, over 300 boats were completely destroyed. Flagler’s Overseas Railroad suffered heavy damage; it was reported that portions of track and other equipment were carried away. Because of the advance warnings, however, loss of life was kept to a minimum; in all, about 15 people in the Keys were killed. Finally, in 1912, Flagler’s railroad to Key West was finished. The nation marveled at the ingenuity and hard work that was instrumental in completing this endeavor, but most didn’t realize that it could have been finished many years earlier, if only the weather had cooperated.

Hurricane Coordinates October 1906-Blue October 1909-Red 13 N, 57 W 16 N, 82 W 14 N, 67 W 18 N, 84 W 15 N, 70 W 19 N, 84 W 16 N, 75 W 20 N, 85 W 18 N, 80 W 22 N, 84 W 21 N, 83 W 24 N, 82 W 24 N, 82 W 25 N, 80 W 26 N, 80 W 27 N, 79 W 29 N, 79 W 29 N, 77 W 32 N, 77 W 31N, 76 W

The Hurricane of October 1921

In the fall of 1921, one of the most explosive periods in America’s real estate history was under way in Florida; it would later be called the “Big Boom.” At the end of World War I, Americans were bursting with new capital. Factory workers made good salaries, farmers became wealthy, and bankers and industrialists made millions. It seemed that everyone was experiencing the new-found American Dream with money to spare. Northerners discovered they could afford vacations, and they headed south to the bright sunshine of Florida. They traveled in private railroad coaches, shiny new yachts, and caravans of newly purchased automobiles. Those who traveled by car packed tents and boxes of canned food and headed for Florida’s rapidly sprawling resort camps, where they earned the nickname “Tin Can Tourists.” Wealthy and middle-class visitors quickly bought up cheap land, and some made magical profits by reselling it within days at much higher prices. They poured millions of dollars into the state; across the nation, “Florida fever” was spreading fast. The wild speculation was especially rampant on the east coast, but in 1921 the growth of Tampa was just beginning. In October of that year, Tampa experienced its worst hurricane in over seventy years. The destruction was not as great as in other Florida hurricanes of the period, but many feared that news stories about the hurricane would frighten winter tourists away from the west coast and thwart development in the Tamp area. This was not the case, however; the boom was under way, and this hurricane couldn’t stop it. Like many October hurricanes, this storm was born in the far reaches of the western Caribbean. It passed through the Yucatan Channel on the 23rd, and at noon on the 24th, after the storm’s winds had been measured at over 100 MPH, hurricane warnings were issued across the Gulf Coast of Florida. On the afternoon of the 25th, the weakened storm made landfall near Tarpon Springs with winds of approximately 70 MPH, crossed the peninsula, and headed into the Atlantic. The recorded rainfall in the Tampa Bay area was over 8 ½ inches, but according to many sources, much more probably fell and was blown out of the measuring devices. Rain and wind were not the most damaging parts of this hurricane, however. The greatest destruction was caused by the tides. In Tampa the tide swept over the seawall along Bayshore Drive and into some of the finest homes in the city. The flooding was even more severe at Palmetto Beach, Edgewater Park, and DeSoto Park, where no seawall offered protection. These areas suffered the greatest damages; some houses had water lapping at second-story windows, and many were demolished by breaking waves. At Palmetto Beach at least fifty houses were destroyed by the missile-like bashings of a fleet of storm-tossed cedar logs. The logs, many still chained together, had been rafted off the beach while in route to the Tampa Box Company on 22nd Street, where they were to be made into cigar boxes. Large waves drove them onto the waterfront, where they smashed through the walls and doors of sturdy houses along the shore. Some of the logs were later found split open, revealing hollow chambers that held bottles of bootleg rum, illegally smuggled into the country in violation of Prohibition. Odd occurrences were reported from locations around the bay. One resident said his home at Sunset Beach began to float down the street during the storm, and he and his family abandoned it for the safety of a small raft. Another man, caught in the rushing tide on 22nd Street, began swimming, only to have a stray pig climb on his back. Other livestock struggled to escape the rising water; some were said to have climbed into houses. Debris of all kinds was strewn among the treetops, including one family’s piano, which was later discovered high up in a pine tree. Also found in the aftermath of the hurricane were numerous streetcars, washed off their tracks and buried in sand up to their windows. Across the bay at the fifty-room St. Petersburg Beach Hotel and Casino, employees swam amid floating furniture in the lobby as they made their way toward a stairway to safety. The hotel later collapsed. Elsewhere in St. Petersburg all four downtown piers were badly damaged or destroyed. Many vessels of all sizes and descriptions were wrecked in the storm; for instance, the steamer Pokonoket was washed ashore high on the grounds of the Tampa Bay Hotel. One story that received much attention was the adventure of Carrie Green, who had accompanied her husband to secure a boat near Ballast Point. While assisting her husband, Carrie boarded an adjacent ten-foot skiff, only for the skiff to break its moorings and be set adrift in the violent seas, her husband helpless to reach her. She lost one oar and was swept into the bay with only the remaining oar. Tossed about in the storm, she guided the boat through the waves by shifting her weight and finally washed ashore some ten miles away at Delaney Creek. The Tampa Morning Tribune described her arrival:

“Upon reaching the eastern side of what would ordinarily have been the bay’s confines, Mrs. Greene’s skiff kept right on going, driving into the woodland, which was six or eight feet in water at the time. Inevitably, the skiff crashed into a pine tree and overturned. Mrs. Greene, clinging to the upturned boat, swam for about a mile, pushing the little craft along until she could reach bottom. She then waded ashore and walked for another two miles, until she located a light in the residence of the Moyer family, where she arrived at 4:30AM, eleven hours after her boat went adrift on the Bayshore waterfront.”

Soon after the storm’s arrival, a rumor circulated that a tidal wave had completely “wiped out” Pass-a-Grille and drowned over a hundred residents. All communications were cut off, power was out throughout the bay area,

and bridges were washed away, so it would take a while for search crews to make their rounds to sort out the losses and recover the dead. The following day, Red Cross officials loaded relief supplies and dozens of pine caskets aboard a U.S. Navy boat to take to Pass-a-Grille. Fortunately the rescue ship discovered that no lives had been lost there and the rumored devastation had not occurred. The hurricane’s impact was spread beyond the shores of Tampa Bay and the west coast of Florida. Significant losses were reported to crops and farms in the inland portions of the state, and some boats in the Atlantic were listed as either missing or heavily damaged as the storm made its way across the central portion of the state. The total number of deaths attributed to the hurricane is not known, but it was reported that at least died in the bay area. Many more lives could have been lost if not for the advanced warnings from the national Weather Bureau. Another reason for the seemingly light damage is that in 1921, the combined population of Hillsborough, Pinellas, Pasco, Citrus, and Hernando counties was only 135,000. Today that figure stands at over 2 ½ million people. It is estimated that with all of the growth in the bay area in recent years, if a hurricane similar to the one that hit in October 1921 were to hit today, it would cause over $13 billion worth of damage in Pinellas County alone. Hurricane Coordinates October 1921-Dark Green 10 N, 82 W 13 N, 83 W 16 N, 84 W 19 N, 85 W 23 N, 86 W 26 N, 85 W 28 N, 83 W 29 N, 81 W 30 N, 77 W 29 N, 75 W

The Hurricane of September 1926

In the thirty years between 1896, when Henry Flagler’s Florida East Coast Railway first rolled into Miami, and 1926, the steady growth of Miami and its surrounding communities was nearly unprecedented. Florida’s great land boom was most explosive in southeast Florida, and between 1923 to 1925, frenzied land dealings sent growth out in all directions. Few of the mangroves that had dominated the landscape in the late 19th century remained. In their place were hotels, casinos, luxurious homes, shops, and streets. New subdivisions pushed westward toward the Everglades so quickly that many new settlers to the area were forced to live in tar-papered buildings located around new neighborhoods. Miami was called the “fastest-growing city in America.” By the end of 1925, over 300,000 people lived in the area stretching from Fort Lauderdale south to Miami. But by the spring of 1926, the land boom was beginning to fade in Miami, and the real estate market dropped. Unfortunately for the Miami area, another occurrence just over the horizon was threatening to further deteriorate the land boom. It would later be called the “Great Miami Hurricane,” and was largely responsible for turning South Florida’s boom to bust. This storm was first recorded as a tropical disturbance on September 11, 1926, with little concern. For the next six days, the storm quietly passed to the north of many Caribbean islands as it strengthened, eventually achieving a top wind speed of 150 MPH. Finally, the storm passed through the Bahamas on the afternoon of September 17th. Meanwhile, in Miami, none of the warning signs of an approaching hurricane were observed; the only weather seen was clear skies and light breezes. By late afternoon, however, the Weather Bureau stated that the storm was approaching, and that destructive winds were expected by late evening. The word “hurricane” was never used, and the people of Miami had no idea of the turmoil they were about to experience. The storm’s first squalls raked the southeastern Florida coast just before midnight, and over the next twelve hours, Miami was pummeled by the most severe hurricane conditions to that point in Weather Bureau history. The eye of the storm passed directly over the city of Miami, and thousands awoke to the wind’s horrifying roar. The awesome winds, rains, and tide swept through the streets of Miami and its neighboring communities, delivering massive destruction to buildings and vessels of all kinds. Not a single structure in downtown Miami was spared damage. The winds topped at 138 MPH before the measuring device was destroyed just after 8:00AM. At the time, this wind speed was the highest ever recorded in the United States. The waterfront of Miami was flooded two to three blocks from Biscayne Bay, and most sections near the Miami River were under several feet of water. Water filled the first floors of hotels, shops, and homes around Biscayne Bay to a depth of three to five feet. The storm tide pushed a tidal wave up the Miami River, wrecking many boats that had retreated there for safe anchorage. All along the bayfront, boats of all shapes and sizes were tossed into the streets; at least 150 ships were driven onto land or sunk in the bay. Perhaps the greatest disaster occurred at the time the storm’s center passed over Miami. After hours of increasingly powerful gusts of wind, an eerie silence fell over the city at 6:00AM. The eye of the hurricane had arrived, but few knew what it was since so many of Miami’s residents were newcomers to the area and had never before experienced a hurricane. Thousands of people fled their houses, apartments, and hotel rooms and poured into the streets to survey the damage. Some were seen kissing the earth and praying aloud with their faces turned upward toward the rolling gray skies. Within minutes, a stream of cars began racing across the bridge from Miami Beach. At 6:45AM, the “second storm” struck Miami with even more ferocity. Dozens of people were trapped in the debris-filled streets with no protection from airborne wreckage. The cars on the causeway never made it to the other side. All around the area, people were caught outside of shelter. Many whose homes were severely damaged by the first winds were crushed when the winds shifted and their homes collapsed on top of them. When the storm finally passed through, survivors slowly staggered into the streets to see the destruction. Wreckage was everywhere. A seventeen-story building in the downtown area was left leaning over the street after having been rocked and swayed for hours. Few glass windows remained intact, electricity was out all over the area, and dry goods from shops littered the streets. In nearby Hialeah, seventeen people were killed instantly in one building when the walls and roof suddenly collapsed. The official estimate was that over 70% of the homes in Hialeah were damaged or destroyed. Of all the areas affected by the hurricane, the small village of Moore Haven suffered the most in terms of lives lost. Located on the southwestern side of Lake Okeechobee, hundreds of people were killed when the hurricane passed through Miami on its northwesterly course, sending a massive flood of wind-driven lake water toward Moore Haven (the actual number of dead has never been verified, though some estimates are as high as 300). Townspeople who were able to escape their homes as the storm surge came through were forced to their roofs; many parents saw their children torn from their arms and swirled away with the currents. As the storm passed inland, its effects stretched far beyond the Miami area and Lake Okeechobee. Powerful winds took their toll on citrus groves as far north as the Orlando area. High winds blew out windows and toppled trees and utility poles in Tampa, Fort Myers, and Naples. After passing through the peninsula on its way to the Gulf of Mexico, the hurricane then took aim on the northern gulf coast near Pensacola. By daybreak on September 20th, with the storm’s eye just south of Pensacola, the storm began to weaken. By the next afternoon,

after dumping over 8 ½ inches of rain on the Pensacola area, the storm diminished and drifted over Louisiana, but not before almost every pier, wharf, boat, and warehouse on Pensacola Bay was destroyed. Although the storm in Pensacola had been severe, the focus of the nation was on South Florida. In the wake of the hurricane, Miami gathered itself together and dealt with the scope of the disaster. Hospitals not destroyed by the storm were soon overflowing with hundreds of injured residents, and numerous hotels, schools, and other buildings became temporary hospitals. Water was in short supply, but the city quickly implemented a rationing system. To protect the citizens, signs were hung up on cars and buildings encouraging people to boil their water. At least 200 children were found whose parents were missing. Martial law was declared, and eleven people were shot for looting. Aid for the people of South Florida poured in within days. Money, food, and medicine were delivered from places as far away as Cuba. Benefit concerts and performances were staged around the nation to generate funds. Hundreds of Boy Scouts cleared the roads of debris, escorted ambulances, and carried messages throughout the city. A newspaper from Chicago even sent a train to South Florida loaded with doctors, nurses, medicine, food, and milk. The Great Miami Hurricane of 1926 remains one of Florida’s most tragic and destructive storms. An official report released by the Red Cross two weeks after the storm hit Miami estimated the deaths at 373, with 6,381 injured, 43,000 homeless, and almost $160 million in property losses. The death toll did not count over 800 people who were missing and presumed dead. Its effects extended far beyond the crushed homes, sunken boats, and shattered lives of the people of Miami. The great land boom that had turned South Florida into a showcase had been virtually deflated overnight. Unfinished subdivisions were leveled, and the profits of the previous years were taken away by the winds. Land that sold for $60,000 in 1925 was soon available for $600. Some believed that the storm had struck because of the “wickedness” of the great prosperity. One historian wrote, “A lot of people who’d come down to speculate left because of the hurricane. It squished the boom and started our depression three years early.” Hurricane Coordinates September 1926-Orange 18 N, 45 W 20 N, 55 W 21 N, 65 W 22 N, 70 W 25 N, 74 W 26 N, 78 W 26 N, 80 W 27 N, 84 W 29 N, 87 W 31 N, 88 W

The Hurricane of September 1928

“The Great Okeechobee Flood,” as the hurricane of September 1928 came to be known, killed more people than any other natural disaster in Florida history. The official death toll in South Florida was 1,836, but many sources insisted that it was actually much higher, maybe as high as 3,500. It arrived on the Atlantic coast near Palm Beach, on the night of September 16, 1928, just two years after the Great Miami Hurricane, and just like its predecessor, it saved its most horrifying damage for the southern edges of Lake Okeechobee. Lake Okeechobee is the fourth-largest natural lake in the United States, and its shape is that of a saucer—shallow and round. With a diameter of forty miles and a depth of no more than 15 feet, it has served as the catch basin and primary water supply for central Florida. During the 1910’s, canals were dug to control the flow of water in the region and to drain portions of the Everglades for farming. A land boom then ensued in which hundreds of acres of what was once wet saw grass were sold as rich farmland. Soon huge fields of beans, celery, carrots, and sugarcane stretched for miles around the lake. Towns grew up along the lake’s edges, where supply stores and juke joints provided necessities to landowners and their imported laborers. Engineers designed embankments around the lip of Okeechobee to restrain floodwaters and protect the farming communities. But as was seen with the passing of the Great Miami Hurricane in 1926, these dams were never able to match the fury of a hurricane. The hurricane of September 1928 started in the far eastern Atlantic Ocean, off the coast of Africa. It was first reported by the crew of the SS Commack, thousands of miles east of the United States. After developing significant strength, it devastated the Caribbean islands of Guadeloupe, St. Kitts, and Montserrat on September 12th. The next day, the storm passed through Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands. At least 300 lives were lost in Puerto Rico alone, with many more dying in the weeks that followed due to starvation and disease. All told, this particular hurricane was responsible for the deaths of over 1,500 people in the Caribbean. The storm’s destruction of Puerto Rico slowly made the news in the U.S. as the storm itself leveled the Bahamas on September 15th. Mindful of the tragedies of the hurricane two years before, many South Florida residents secured their homes while others evacuated. By dusk on the 16th, the hurricane made its lunge over the Florida coast near West Palm Beach with a large tidal surge, winds in excess of 150 MPH, and over ten inches of rain. The resorts and homes of the Palm Beach area were reduced to rubble. Damages were heavy along the coast from Fort Pierce to Boca Raton. In West Palm Beach, 1,711 homes were destroyed, and another 6,363 were damaged. All along the coast, piers, docks, and waterfront structures were lifted by the tide and carried for hundreds of yards. In some instances, houses were raised from their foundations and spun ninety degrees, twisting the porches and steps into tangled arrangements. Trees were knocked down, wrapped in webs of electric cables. Thirty-six hours after the storm first attacked the coast, newspaper headlines across the nation announced the hurricanes arrival: “Florida Destroyed! Florida Destroyed!” All of the damage seen on the southeast coast of Florida was nothing compared to the damage the storm was about to inflict on the communities surrounding Lake Okeechobee. By noon on September 16th, many of the residents around the lake had already heard of the approaching gale. Many men drove the maze of roads around the lake to warn others and to urge people to seek shelter. But as the afternoon progressed and the great storm drew nearer, hundreds of people went about their work on the broad, flat terrain with no idea of what was about to occur. Normally, the water level in the lake was maintained slightly above the level of the surrounding farmland so that the water could be drained off as needed. In the weeks before the storm, heavy rains had kept the lake level high and filled the ditches and canals around the lake. When the intense hurricane-force winds finally hit the lake, they lifted the waters out of Lake Okeechobee and tossed them southward, completely washing away entire communities and the dams that were built to protect them. Few were able to survive this gigantic wall of water. On Torry Island, about a mile from the lake’s southeastern edge, residents tried to escape to the mainland when word spread of the hurricane, but by this time, the bridge joining the lake isle to the mainland was already under water. Twenty-three people then returned to a packinghouse, where they perched on tractors, trucks, stacks of crates, and anything else above the approaching waterline. However, as the sturdy structure rocked and swayed, floodwaters covered the dirt floor and chased the people into the rafters. After the building was battered by uprooted custard apple trees, it heaved and then folded into the dark waters of a nearby canal. One man kicked out a gable near the roof of the structure just before it sank and escaped into the branches of a tree. He was able to pull his fiancé out as well. They were soon swimming in the pitch-black waters until they were able to grab hold of a passing dredge. Several others from the doomed packinghouse also were able to be saved when they grabbed the dredge. Others were swept into treetops, and one woman even tied herself to a telegraph pole. All of these people survived. Sadly, ten others who shared the packinghouse with them were not so fortunate. Other amazing feats of survival occurred during the storm. A family of two men and one woman took refuge in an ash tree after the roof of their home had blown away. The family nearly drowned many times as the tree kept bending under the force of the heavy winds; luckily, the tree was able to rebound between gusts, allowing the

family the opportunity to breathe. Nearly all of the trees in their vicinity were uprooted, but theirs remained and all three survived. Another ordeal occurred as a group of eleven people took refuge in the “storm-proof” home of Mahlon Eggleston. As floodwaters lifted the house off the ground, it soon crashed into another floating structure. It was then discovered that two women and a man were clinging to a windowsill outside of the Eggleston dwelling. The occupants broke a windowpane and brought all three inside the drifting home. The house soon crashed with a thud into some unknown object, pitched to one side, and came to a stop. Two rooms on one side of the house rolled under the water, and the pressure broke out half the windows. In one of these rooms was Mrs. Eggleston, her six-year-old daughter, and her infant son. Their quarters submerged in the flooded darkness, they could only survive by breathing the air trapped near the ceiling of the room. Immediately after the house came to a stop, Ray Browne, Mrs. Eggleston’s nephew, struggled through the house to their door. He dove through the submerged doorway and swam up to the air pocket where the three were trapped. One by one, Ray rescued all three by swimming back through the doorway while clutching one of the three. Soon all the occupants were gathered in the attic, the only remaining refuge. Because they feared the house might collapse and sink in the howling storm, they decided to cut a hole through the roof to escape. After three hours of cutting a hole with a pocketknife, , the survivors emerged from the house to find that it was lodged on the opposite bank of the canal where it had once stood, over a quarter-mile away from the original foundation. In the days following the disaster, help was slow to trickle in to the Okeechobee region because most roads were covered under huge mounds of debris. No cars in the area could operate, and food and drinking water were nonexistent. All of the surviving women and children were evacuated on foot to West Palm Beach, over forty miles away, while the men were left to sift through the wreckage. The unsettling process of recovering the dead went on for days. Efforts to identify the bodies, however, were quickly abandoned; because of the deterioration of the corpses, it soon became impossible to even identify a body’s race. The stench was overwhelming, not only from the decay of human bodies but also due to the rotting carcasses of fish, alligators, and other animals. The recovery of bodies went on until November 1st. Many of the bodies were never buried but were torched instead in makeshift funeral pyres. Since not all of the bodies were recovered, farmers through the years in the southern lake region have reported unearthing bones of storm victims in their fields. President Herbert Hoover visited the region in February 1929, and afterward a plan was announced to rebuild the failed barriers on the lake’s southern shores. A giant rock levee, 85 miles long and 36 feet high, was built along the lake’s southeast, south, and southwest banks. This new wall was 18-20 feet higher than the lake’s normal level. The Hoover Dike was later put to the test with major hurricanes in 1947 and ’49, both considerably stronger than the September ’28 flood, and suffered only minor erosion. Hurricane Coordinates September 1928-Purple 17 N, 48 W 17 N, 53 W 16 N, 61 W 19 N, 67 W 22 N, 72 W 24 N, 76 W 26 N, 79 W 28 N, 82 W 31 N, 82 W 33 N, 79 W

The Hurricane of September 1935

During the summer of 1935, the Great Depression gripped Florida along with the rest of the nation. Tourism was down, and the boom years of the 1920’s were long gone. Jobs were hard to come by. In an effort to create jobs, the federal government employed laborers for construction projects throughout the country, including many in Florida. During that summer, hundreds of World War I veterans were sent to the Florida Keys to work on several large projects. These vets were among the thousands of unemployed “Bonus Marchers” who had gathered in Washington, DC, three years earlier demanding payment of the “adjusted compensation” bonuses Congress had promised them. Then-President Hoover ordered troops with bayonets and tear gas to break up their camps around the capital. In 1935, President Roosevelt tried to appease the veterans by giving some of them jobs repairing Fort Jefferson in the Dry Tortugas just west of Key West, and constructing a massive project—the new Overseas Highway to Key West. Their work camps on the Keys were little more than tents and small shacks that lined the crushed coral roadbed they were constructing. The 684 men labored each day under a baking sun, with little relief from their task. During the Labor Day weekend of 1935, nearly 300 who could afford to leave the brutal conditions of the camps went to Miami for a few days. The laborers left behind soon faced disaster. It started as a small hurricane, with an eye only eight miles wide. On Sunday, September 1st, both the Weather Bureau and the Miami Herald only made brief mention of the storm that had crept quietly toward the Straits of Florida. Wise Keys residents began boarding up their homes, stocking their “hurricane houses” (small, sturdily built shelters on high ground) with needed supplies, and generally preparing for the impending gale. Thirty hours before landfall, the storm was barely a hurricane. By the next day, Labor Day, when the storm finally struck the Keys, it had developed into one of the most powerful hurricanes in recorded history. During the evening of September 2nd, the eye of the storm passed over the Middle Keys with winds of unbelievable force. All wind instruments were destroyed. Some estimates suggest that some gusts approached 250 MPH. Though the winds were remarkable, it was the massive storm tide that did the most damage, drowning hundreds of victims and completing the ruin of the Middle Keys. This wall of water was responsible for most of the deaths in the hurricane, including many of the WWI veterans working on the Overseas Highway on Matecumbe Key. All day on September 2nd, prior to the storm’s arrival, the chief of the veterans’ work camp made repeated anxious calls to the Miami Weather Bureau for storm updates. At noon, he wired the East Coast Railway office in Miami to request the evacuation train that had been promised. While local residents of the Keys gathered their belongings and fled, the vets left their barracks and waited next to the tracks for the train. Some played poker in the now-stinging rain, others drank, and a few returned to their quarters. Meanwhile, because of the national holiday and a general lack of concern, the train that was supposed to be on standby in Homestead was not there. Finally, a group of volunteers put together a train in Miami. It took two hours for the locomotive to build up enough steam and assemble the train with six passenger cars, two baggage cars, three boxcars, and a car loaded with ninety tons of shell to act as counterweight against the strong hurricane winds. Finally, at 4:45PM, the train departed Miami, only to be delayed at the Miami River. When the train arrived in Homestead after 5:00PM, the engineer stopped in order to move the locomotive from the front to the rear of the train in order to provide more speed for the return trip. By the time the rescue train made it to the Keys, the skies had darkened with rain, and winds had begun to whip the surface of Florida Bay. Several times the train had to be stopped so that the crew could clear the tracks of storm debris. The train continued slowly southward into ever-increasing wind as waves broke over the railway embankments. By this time, the veterans waiting by the tracks were drenched and their faces bled from airborne sand. When the train finally reached the vets at Islamorada at 8:20PM, the engineer could not even see the station and passed it. As waves washed over the island, the train reversed course and returned. As the train slowed to a stop, the crew gathered the evacuees into the cars and out of the storm. Suddenly, the massive storm surge arrived, and a wall of water at least seventeen feet high swept over the island, carrying with it houses, trees, construction vehicles, and most of the rescue train. The seawater had risen high enough to put out the fire in the engine’s boiler. According to one survivor, the track was “turned on its side like a fence,” and ten cars were swept sideways almost 100 feet. Surprisingly, a few of the railway crew survived by holding on to the locomotive engine, which was too heavy to be carried off the tracks. The same storm wave that washed the train almost completely off the tracks overcame almost every structure built on Islamorada. The so-called “hurricane houses,” built to withstand heavy hurricane-force winds, were no match against this storm. Many families were tossed into the raging flood when their hurricane shelters buckled under the pressure of 200 MPH and high water. Their ordeal was made more horrific by the deafening roar of the wind and the blackness of night, occasionally disrupted by an eerie illumination—high winds lifted sand particles into the air, generating static electricity that caused flashes in the sky like a swarm of fireflies. The storm’s incredible winds and tide left death in its wake throughout the Middle Keys. Historian Gene Burnett later wrote:

Objects careened through the air with deadly speed. Sheet metal roofs became “flying guillotines,” decapitating several victims, amputating the limbs of others. Whirling lumber became lethal javelins, impaling victims or jarring them loose from precarious grips on poles and trees…Pounding sheets of sand sheared clothes and even the skin off victims, leaving them clad only in belts and shoes, often with their faces literally sandblasted beyond identification.

After the storm swept over the Keys, it continued on a broad curve up the Florida Gulf coast, passing just west of Tampa and striking near Cedar Key on September 4th. It soon dropped to tropical storm strength and continued tracking through Georgia and the Carolinas before finally reaching the Atlantic Ocean, strengthening, and heading out to sea. The morning after the storm, those who survived were left to discover the bodies of their friends and families among the mangroves. Clifton Russell, one of the original Russell clan that had settled on Matecumbe Key in the 1850’s, survived; during the storm, Russell, his wife, and their four children rode out the storm in their hurricane house on the highest part of the island, twelve feet above sea level. The storm wave shattered the building, and each family member was left to struggle alone in the darkness. In a tragic twist, Russell’s brother John also lost his wife and four children. It was a gruesome scene the next day. Because the bridge at Snake Creek had washed away, the Keys were completely cut off from the rest of Florida. Communications were out, and no one in Miami knew of the disaster. Word finally reached the mainland when some men in boats made their way to Homestead to seek help. With no fresh water available, many injured survivors were left to die of thirst. With heavy rains the next day, some were able to gather enough rainwater to survive. The task of counting, identifying, and removing the dead from the Keys went on for days after the storm. At first, orders were given that all of the dead veterans were to be transported to Washington, DC, for burial at the National Cemetery in Arlington, Virginia. It quickly became clear, however, that transporting all of the rapidly decomposing bodies was not feasible. State health officials then decided to cremate the mounting corpses on site. As in other great hurricane disasters, the exact number of victims claimed by the Labor Day Hurricane of 1935 will never be known. The official Red Cross estimate was 408, but accurate death counts were made difficult because of the large numbers of bodies that were never found and the exact number of workers who spent the weekend in Miami was never known; many veteran workers did not return once they found out that their work camp no longer existed. Among the other casualties of this hurricane was Henry Flagler’s Florida East Coast Railway, which lost thirty-five miles of track and embankments. Already bankrupt, the railway never rebuilt in the Keys. Some of the remaining bridge structures were later used to complete the Overseas Highway, which finally opened in 1938. Hurricane Coordinates September 1935-Aqua 24 N, 67 W 24 N, 72 W 23 N, 77 W 24 N, 80 W 26 N, 83 W 28 N, 84 W 29 N, 83 W 32 N, 83 W 35 N, 80 W 37 N, 70 W

The Hurricane of September 1945

Just a week-and-a-half after a tropical storm struck Miami with heavy rains and 50 MPH winds, one of the fiercest hurricanes to ever visit South Florida roared ashore near Homestead in September 1945. It most likely began off the western edge of Africa, building to hurricane strength hundreds of miles east of the West Indies. Its stable westward course was well north of the Leeward Islands, and on September 13th, its weaker southern side brushed the coast of Puerto Rico near San Juan. On the morning of the 14th, its eye passed near the Turks Islands, where high winds disabled wind instruments and tore away the roofs of many homes. Its passage through the Bahamas was equally destructive, killing twenty-two people in thirty hours. The Weather Bureau office in Miami issued ample warnings concerning the fast-approaching hurricane, and oceanfront communities like Miami Beach were well evacuated. At first, the storm appeared to be headed for the Florida Keys, but in the hours just before landfall, it shifted to the northwest, edging the center of the storm toward the mainland. The storm finally came ashore just below Homestead (near Miami) on September 15th. The most severe damages occurred along a path about forty miles wide through the towns of Florida City, Homestead, Redlands, Princeton, Goulds, Perrine, Richmond Heights, Kendall, and South Miami. Two-minute-long wind measurements taken near the hurricane’s eye as it passed over Richmond Naval Air Base averaged 170 MPH; for a few seconds, the wind reached 196 MPH! High tides also battered the area, and large waves rolled over the local beaches. Waterfront damages to small craft, docks, and marinas were somewhat typical. One particular avenue on Miami Beach was under water and said to have been filled with the roofs of cabanas from nearby homes and hotels. Boats of all kinds were tossed out of Biscayne Bay across South Bayshore Drive and ended up in piles of rubble near Mary Street. Although significant damages were spread among numerous Dade County communities, the hurricane’s greatest damage occurred at the U.S. Naval Air Station at Richmond Heights. Three enormous hangars, designed to hold the Navy’s large blimps and warplanes, were blown down by the storm’s peak winds. This was the site where the 170 MPH winds had been measured a short time before, and it is thought that the 196 MPH gust brought all three hangars down. As they collapsed during the peal of the storm, their contents were scattered, and the disaster escalated as enormous fires erupted, fed by high-octane fuel and fanned by the incredible gusts. In all, 25 blimps, 183 military planes, 153 civilian planes, and 150 automobiles were destroyed. In addition, over 200 people were injured in the fire, many of which were hurt while attempting to fight the blaze where the hangars once stood. Others on the base were at first relieved that they had not stored their own cars in the hangars but instead had parked them in an open field nearby. After the storm subsided, however, they discovered that the storm’s incredible winds had blown sand across the runways and sandblasted the paint off one side of their cars, turning them from shiny colors to dull silver. Soon after landfall, the storm began weakening and turned almost due north, speeding up the peninsula of Florida. It eventually curved back out to sea near the Florida-Georgia border. From there it continued into the Carolinas and the Northeast and pulled out to sea again near Newfoundland, Canada, on September 20th. In addition to property damage in Dade County, agricultural damages were significant. Losses were especially heavy to the avocado and lime crops in South Florida and to the citrus crops in Highlands and Polk counties. The total loss to the state’s citrus industry was estimated at five percent. Heavy rains flooded the farms that bordered the Everglades, ruing a large percentage of crops. Pastures used for the state’s cattle industry along the Kissimmee and St. Johns River valleys were flooded. The storm caused four deaths in Florida and losses that approached $60 million. Hurricane Coordinates September 1945-Purple 17 N, 48 W 17 N, 53 W 16 N, 61 W 19 N, 67 W 22 N, 72 W 24 N, 76 W 26 N, 79 W 28 N, 82 W 31 N, 82 W 33 N, 79 W

Hurricane “Easy”- September 1950

Nicknamed “Hurricane Easy,” the hurricane of September 1950 was one of the most bizarre storms to ever strike Florida. Not only did it have an odd name, but its abnormal, almost lethargic movements puzzled the forecasters who tracked it. While it seemed to almost park itself over Florida’s upper west coast, it drenched residents with record-breaking rains. Its remarkable double-loop track caused it to make landfall at almost the exact same location twice in the same day! “Easy” began as a tropical low-pressure system in the western Caribbean on September 1st and remained almost motionless for two days before crossing Cuba as a weak hurricane. After the center of the storm passed just to the east of Havana at 6:00AM on the 3rd, it moved into the Gulf of Mexico, and storm warnings were issued from Key West to Pensacola. The hurricane swept just to the west of the Florida Keys around noon, causing “shredded shrubbery and toppled trees” in Key West. Its movements northward were inconsistent and slow, but high waters piled onshore as it paralleled Florida’s west coast. The tide in Tampa Bay rose six-and-a-half feet, the highest since the hurricane of October 1921. A dam on the Hillsborough River was washed away, flooding the north Tampa community of Sulphur Springs with two feet of water. About forty homes were destroyed and valuable beachfront property was damaged around St. Petersburg and Clearwater. The Associated Press reported, “Tides from six and a half to eight feet above normal swept the pretty resort area from Clearwater to Sarasota, washing out roads, toppling beachfront houses, sinking a few small boats, putting a tug [boat] in distress and piling sea water like lakes around homes and hotels.” Once the storm passed Tampa on the 4th, it slowed to a crawl, coming to a standstill about fifty miles west of Tarpon Springs. Above the warm waters of the Gulf the storm quickly intensified. Reconnaissance aircraft estimated the highest winds to be over 125 MPH. It sat spinning counter-clockwise for six hours, then made its move to the northeast at a rate of 5 MPH and coming ashore twenty miles south of Cedar Key at dawn on the 5th. However, no sooner had the storm moved inland than it turned sharply to the north and began making a loop to the northwest, circling around Cedar Key, reentering the Gulf of Mexico, and striking the coast a second time near Homosassa Springs, just below the first landfall. The people of Cedar Key, meanwhile, were pounded for several hours by fierce winds, dangerous tides, and unheard-of amounts of rain. To them, it was almost as if the storm had sat down and refused to leave. Eventually the storm weakened, though, and it moved in yet another broad curve through central Florida as a drenching tropical storm, flooding some crops but giving some much-needed rain to citrus groves. It then passed west of Jacksonville and into southern Georgia before dying over northern Alabama on the 8th. Radar images of the storm, a recent invention used during the tracking of Hurricane Easy, showed that while it was drifting in a loop offshore, its eye shrank. The resulting intensification that occurred was not good news to the people of Cedar Key, who endured the worst storm in the town’s history. Winds howled for a full day, and the devastation was heavy. Rainfall was at an unprecedented level; a 24-inch Weather Bureau standard rain gauge overflowed, and later squalls added at least another 1.2 inches, bringing the storm’s total rainfall to more than 25.2 inches. Several locations nearby reported over 30 inches of rain; at Yankeetown, a new 24-hour rainfall record of 38.7 inches was set! Even though the rain seemed unending, it was the combination of high tides and battering winds that caused the most destruction at Cedar Key. Few people of the town of 900 had evacuated after receiving the hurricane warnings. Instead, over 500 people jammed into the town’s two strongest-built structures—the grammar school and the high school. Crowded into the small classrooms were men, women, and children who had been forced to leave their homes in the terrifying gusts. Electricity and water were cut off, and many caught rainwater in buckets for drinking and bathing. Trees and telephone poles were downed everywhere, and wires were tangled across almost every street. Eight people were forced to abandon their cars when floodwaters drowned out their engines. The storm’s winds tore the roofs off of about 75 percent of Cedar Key’s 200 buildings and left the others with various damage. Among the buildings torn apart were a hardware store and the town bank. Roads throughout the area were under a foot-and-a-half to two feet of water. Bridges leading out or coming in to Cedar Key were covered with seaweed and timbers, and most were impassible. A highway patrolman reported that his car was nearly bashed by debris from a home that collapsed near Bronson, about thirty miles east of Cedar Key. The hurricane dealt a crippling blow to Cedar Key’s economy. The town’s two primary industries were wrecked—the fishing fleet and the fiber factory. The factory, where thirty-five people made brooms and brushes from palm fibers, was badly damaged. The town’s fishing fleet of 100 boats was similarly ruined, and another 50 to 100 recreational craft were wrecked. Virtually all of the town’s fish houses and docks were washed away, many of which had just been rebuilt after a fire in April. Fortunately, many who lost work as a result of the hurricane were able to find it again in the cleanup and rebuilding effort that took place after the hurricane. The majority of the hurricane’s damages occurred along a sixty-mile stretch of the Gulf coast from Cedar Key to St. Petersburg. Property losses in Florida totaled $3.3 million, and three deaths were reported, all of whom were electrocuted after touching live wires downed by high winds. In addition, 27 people were injured, 57 homes were destroyed, and 1,001 homes were damaged. One unusual story appeared in newspapers across Florida after Hurricane Easy passed through. Many concerned automobile owners reported that their cars had developed a mysterious case of the “measles” due to

the hurricane. Hundreds of people in Clearwater, Lakeland, Orlando, Jacksonville, and other cities verified that blisters filled with water had formed under the surface of the paint on their autos shortly after the hurricane had passed. The blisters, numbering in the thousands, gave the cars the appearance of having the measles. When the sun returned the following day, the blisters mysteriously disappeared. Researchers at the University of Florida studied the “disease” and developed several theories about its cause. They concluded that air pockets under the surface of the paint had expanded because of the lowered air pressure, causing the paint to blister. Hurricane Coordinates

September 1950-Black 18 N, 83 W 28 N, 83 W 29 N, 84 W 28 N, 85 W 29 N, 83 W 30 N, 84 W 29 N, 85 W 28 N, 81 W 30 N, 82 W 33 N, 84 W

Hurricane Donna- September 1960

On August 29, 1960, a large squall of heavy rains and high winds wrapped around the westernmost tip of the African continent. This was more than the usual summer thunderstorm; it was later blamed for the crash of an airliner and the resulting deaths of all sixty-three people aboard. The following day, heavy rains were reported near the Cape Verde Islands just off the coast of Africa. From there, this storm, named “Donna,” greatly intensified as it traveled west toward the Caribbean. Between the night of September 4th and the night of September 9th, Donna punished the island s of the Caribbean. Homes and boats were destroyed, crops were damaged, and massive rainfalls flooded rivers, causing them to overflow their banks and drown dozens in surrounding towns. As early as September 7th, the American press labeled Donna a “killer hurricane” and ran headlines that all of South Florida was in danger as Donna made a gradual turn to the northwest, straight for the Florida Keys. By 11:00AM on the 8th, the dreaded warning flags—red with black squares—were raised throughout the Keys. Many Keys residents packed their bags and fled for the peninsula; about half of the over 3,100 residents of the Upper Keys left. High winds were first felt in the early evening of September 9th, and conditions worsened as the night progressed. At about 2:30AM on the 10th, winds of over 150 MPH were recorded and a storm tide of thirteen feet pounded the islands. As Donna slowly passed over the Keys, she then turned slightly to the north and paralleled the Gulf coastline of Southwest Florida while passing over Naples and Fort Myers. Then, on the afternoon of the 10th, she abruptly turned to the northeast and passed through Central Florida with measured winds of over 100 MPH. Donna then left the state and headed back out into the Atlantic Ocean at 4:00AM on the 11th, but she wasn’t finished yet. Over the warm waters of the Gulf Stream, Donna intensified rapidly and accelerated toward the beaches of the North Carolina coast. Before she finally weakened due to cooler air over Newfoundland, Canada, Donna had wreaked havoc with tornadoes in South Carolina and heavy winds, record storm tides, and rain in North Carolina, Virginia, Maryland, New Jersey, New York, Connecticut, New Hampshire, and Maine. The ferocity of Hurricane Donna was evident by the pounding it administered to the Middle and Upper Keys. Measured wind gusts near the center of the storm were 135-150 MPH; reliable estimates from other locations showed sustained winds of 140 MPH, with some gusts up to 180 MPH. Heavy rains also fell throughout the region, but the exact figure was impossible to tell since Donna’s winds had destroyed most of the rain gauges. The destruction throughout the Middle Keys was awesome. The Overseas Highway was completely washed out in several places, the pipeline that supplied fresh water to the Keys was broken in six places, and telephone and electrical services were destroyed. Cars, boats, indoor furniture, and appliances were scattered with the storm tides and tossed into mangrove thickets and streets. Homes, resorts, and businesses of every kind suffered almost complete destruction. The Chesapeake Seafood House, which had opened just prior to Hurricane Donna, lost thousands of dollars worth of antiques and furnishings when they were carried into the Gulf as waves rolled through the restaurant. Poucher’s Supermarket was gutted by the storm after a large palm tree was hurled through a rear wall. Heavy rains and rising tides damaged most of its goods, but its total destruction did not occur until two days later; health officials ordered the market burned to the ground because of the risk of disease from its stocks of contaminated food. Amazingly, despite all of the damage that resulted from Hurricane Donna in the Keys, only four people died. Many people had heeded the warnings prior to landfall and evacuated the Keys; those that remained gathered in the few buildings known to be strong enough to withstand the blow. Eighty people took refuge in the Key Largo firehouse, while hundreds more found shelter in the Florida Keys Clinic and the Florida Keys Electric Cooperative warehouse on Tavernier. Others remained in their homes, or in businesses that they considered safe. Even though clouds still hung low over portions of the Keys through the early morning, dazed residents slowly emerged from their homes and shelters on the 10th. They encountered mounds of debris in every street and houses that had been swept to new locations. For those who had spent the night in shelters, upon returning to their neighborhoods, many became lost when familiar surroundings like trees, signs, and buildings had been blown down or washed away. Many lost all of their possessions. Physicians in Miami would later refer to the shock experienced in the storm’s aftermath as “hurricanitis.” Within hours after crossing the Keys, Donna blasted the coastal fringes of the Everglades with punishing winds and tides. Winds approaching 150 MPH battered Everglades National Park, destroying about 50 percent of the “largest stand of big mangrove trees in the world.” Wildlife suffered as well. The park had contained one of the nation’s largest concentrations of nesting American bald eagles, and virtually all of the eagle nests were destroyed. Four months after the storm, only twelve had been rebuilt. With the resultant flooding of the Everglades and other wild areas adjacent to urban settings, alligators, snakes, and rats became a menace in the weeks after the storm. Numerous snakebites were reported, mostly from snakes that had taken up residence in homes and furnishings. One truck driver had operated his vehicle for three days before discovering a rattlesnake coiled under the seat. The abundance of rats was a health concern and prompted the state to implement a rodent control program. Five thousand pieces of poisoned meat were distributed over South Florida by boat and helicopter in an effort to exterminate the pests. Leaflets were dropped from airplanes advising residents to boil all drinking water, and keep children from playing in contaminated streams and lakes. Amazingly, no one in Florida died from disease in Donna’s aftermath.

All along Donna’s course, windows were shattered, houses unroofed, and utility poles leveled to the ground. Winds uprooted or splintered trees in some locations; other trees were stripped of their leaves and fruit. The U.S. Department of Agriculture estimated that Florida lost 25 to 35 percent of its grapefruit crop and 5 to 10 percent of its oranges and tangerines. All of the fruit was immature, and none could be salvaged. Crops were flooded by the heavy rains that followed the storm. After Donna exited Florida, its rampage continued in the Carolinas, the mid-Atlantic states, and New England. The geographical distribution of the deaths caused by Hurricane Donna is a testament to the noteworthy staying power of the storm. In addition to 13 deaths in Florida, there were 11 in North Carolina, 3 in Virginia, 2 in Maryland, 1 in Pennsylvania, 9 in New Jersey, 3 in New York, 9 in Massachusetts, 1 in New Hampshire, and 1 in Vermont. Including the deaths in the Caribbean, Donna killed more than 320 people. In Florida, 122 people were hospitalized with some kind of injury. The storm destroyed 1,844 Florida homes, while 3,253 suffered major damage and 31,000 bore minor damage. Agricultural losses in the state topped $50 million, and the total damage estimate for Florida was over $300 million. In light of the amount of property damage caused by Donna, she was widely regarded at the time as the most destructive hurricane in Florida’s history. Its south-to-north journey through the eastern United States was unprecedented, and a new generation of coastal residents witnessed the power of a great storm. Perhaps a short summary of the storm in the 1961 National Weather Review could better define Donna’s place in history:

Donna was unique in that it gave hurricane force winds to Florida, the Middle Atlantic states, and New England. However, although it was one of the most destructive hurricanes of all time, loss of life was remarkably low. This can be attributed to three factors—timely and accurate warnings, effective dissemination by news media and other agencies, and the taking of proper precautions by the public. The accuracy of the warnings is in large part a reflection of the continuous tracking by aircraft reconnaissance and land-based radar, which was probably the most complete of any hurricane in history.

Hurricane Coordinates September 1960-Yellow 17 N, 50 W 18 N, 62 W 21 N, 69 W 23 N, 78 W 26 N, 82 W 28 N, 82 W 31 N, 80 W 33 N, 78 W 35 N, 75 W 39 N, 73 W

Hurricane Andrew- August 1992

1992 had been a quiet year as far as the hurricane season goes. South Florida was still seeing its share of daily afternoon thunderstorms, but by mid-August, there still had not been any Atlantic or Caribbean storms worthy of being named. Finally, on August 17th, “Andrew” was identified over the open waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Created as part of a strong tropical wave near the Cape Verde Islands off the West African coast, Tropical Storm Andrew meandered northwest for five days with little escalation, passing well north of Puerto Rico on the 21st. On the 22nd, Andrew just barely officially became a hurricane, with top winds at 75 MPH. Then, some 800 miles east of Miami, Hurricane Andrew began to morph into the mother of all hurricanes, a gale that would be remembered by an entire generation as Florida’s Great Storm. While over warm Bahamian waters, Andrew quickly intensified: on the morning of the 22nd, Andrew’s winds were at 75 MPH; by 11:00PM that night, winds were measured at 110 MPH. Thirteen hours later, winds were up again, to 135 MPH. Andrew had exploded from a tropical storm to a Category 4 monster in less than thirty hours! Later on the 23rd, Andrew’s winds were gusting at 150 MPH, almost in Category 5 range. At the time, it was moving west at 15 MPH on a track that would carry it straight through the Bahamas toward South Florida. Warnings were broadcast immediately in the Bahamas before a 23-foot storm surge pounded the shores. By this time, residents along the entire South Florida coast fixed their eyes on the steady stream of storm updates that rolled across their television screens. All of the usual pre-hurricane rituals were under way—residents stockpiled batteries, canned food, and water; long lines formed for gasoline at filling stations; windows were boarded up and secured. All day on the 23rd, the entire coastline from West Palm Beach to the Keys was abuzz. Across South Florida, and especially the Greater Miami area, word was out that Andrew was coming—and with frightening strength. Many people packed their families in their cars along with bags, boxes, and pets and left for safer quarters. The total evacuation was estimated at around 700,000 in south Florida. On the afternoon of the 23rd, local highways were jammed with cars leaving the area. With each weather bulletin, the news worsened. The Miami Herald headline that afternoon perhaps summed up the storm’s approach best: “Bigger, Stronger, Closer.” As the hours passed after midnight on the 24th, Andrew strengthened and moved in on South Florida. At 4:30AM, the west eye wall of the storm moved over Biscayne Bay on a track that would take the eye through Cutler Ridge, Homestead, and other portions of south Dade County. Maximum sustained winds were around 165 MPH, with gusts above 200 MPH, making Andrew one of only three Category 5 storms to ever hit the United States. After blasting through marinas, shopping centers, acres of crops, and dozens of neighborhoods, Andrew’s core then rolled over the more sparsely-populated mangrove swamps and hardwood hammocks of Everglades National Park. Andrew’s cruise across the southern tip of the peninsula took lass than three hours, and the storm weakened to a Category 3 hurricane. By 8:00AM, Andrew had passed over Naples and was moving offshore, entering the Gulf of Mexico. It quickly began to rebuild, taking energy from the warmth of the Gulf waters. Not lingering over the Florida coast for long, Andrew advanced toward Louisiana. It was estimated that 1.25 million people fled southern Louisiana after seeing the damage caused by Andrew in Florida. After making landfall in Louisiana on the 25th, Andrew quickly lost power, still inflicting great damage with high winds, heavy rains, and hurricane-induced tornadoes. Louisiana was left reeling in the aftermath of Hurricane Andrew, but the toll was far greater in Florida. Because of Andrew’s compact size, the heaviest damages in Dade County were concentrated along a 30-mile-wide path that zeroed in on Cutler Ridge, Homestead, and Florida City, areas just to the immediate south of Miami. Homestead was razed almost beyond recognition: the nearby Homestead Air Force Base was “virtually destroyed,” according to Lawton Chiles, the governor of Florida who arrived on the scene quickly after the storm. In every direction as far as the eye could see, houses were ripped to pieces and debris of every imaginable origin was strewn across streets and lawns. Few trees were still standing, and those that were had been stripped of their leaves. Power lines and stoplights were nonexistent, ripped away from their supports. Entire neighborhoods were destroyed in tornado-like fashion, but the culprit was no twister—it was a hurricane the likes of which most Floridians, native or otherwise, had never seen. Andrew’s winds, among the strongest ever recorded in America, were strong enough to lift large trucks into the air, shred mobile homes, and hurl massive construction equipment for hundreds of feet. After the storm, planks and pieces of plywood were found impaling the trunks of large palms; 18-foot-long steel and concrete tie beams with roofs still attached were carried more than 150 feet. Paint was peeled from walls, and street signs were pulled out of the ground and hurled through houses. Flying fifty-gallon fuel drums were a hazard during the storm, as were signs, awnings, decks, trash barrels, and fence posts. Mobile homes not only blew apart during the storm, but disintegrated into aluminum shrapnel that became embedded in nearby structures. Although many remarkable feats of survival came out of Hurricane Andrew, there were also countless stories of tragic loss. Many lost all of their possessions; some lost family members or their own lives. Some died when their houses collapsed on top of them, while others perished from flying debris. One man died after falling off a balcony whose railing had been blown away. He was blind. In addition to the great losses suffered by people, animals of all kinds were tormented by the storm. Hundreds of horses were killed or wounded by wind-thrown debris. Because many evacuees fled to shelters that did not

allow family pets, thousands of dogs and cats were left behind in homes dismantled by the hurricane’s winds. Some died when their homes collapsed, but others roamed the streets with injuries, searching for their missing owners. At the Miami MetroZoo, Andrew’s winds flipped trailers, peeled away roofs, destroyed an aviary containing over 80 species of birds, and generally traumatized the animals. Chain link fences were torn apart by flying debris, freeing hundreds of birds, some monkeys, a herd of antelope, and several 500-pound Galapagos tortoises (which were later returned with a forklift). Many of the larger animals, such as the giraffes and the rhinoceroses, stayed in their enclosures and were miraculously unharmed. Others, like lions, tigers, bears, and gorillas, survived the storm in the safety of their concrete and steel night houses. The scale of the disaster in south Dade County was enormous. The zone of destruction left by Andrew’s winds was larger than the city of Chicago, and virtually every structure in the zone was damaged. About 80,000 homes were heavily damaged or destroyed, and another 52,000 received some damage. Furthermore, over 1.4 million people in the Greater Miami area were without electricity in the immediate aftermath of Andrew. This hurricane was unique in that the majority of the damages it caused in Florida resulted from its incredible winds. It was a relatively dry hurricane, with localized flooding being of minor consequence. Downtown Miami also suffered through Andrew’s nearly 17-foot storm surge, which shattered office windows, destroyed furnishings, washed away portions of buildings, and damaged or destroyed 15,000 pleasure crafts in Dade County. In fact, the losses from wrecked vessels alone totaled approximately half-a-billion dollars, which is more than the total property damage for most hurricanes! Soon after Andrew’s heavy clouds rolled away from Dade County, thousands of bewildered residents stumbled or crawled out of their homes and shelters and emerged into the streets. The immensity of the destruction was impossible to comprehend; the areas affected by Andrew’s wrath looked more like a war zone than an area beset by natural disaster. Southern Dade County soon became something of a war zone, as trucks of National Guard troops were called in to restore order in the area after looters helped themselves to goods and merchandise exposed by the storm. Soon thousands of small business owners were forced to leave the business of picking up the pieces of their own lives in order to guard their businesses with shotguns. Most stayed around the clock. Many looters then turned their attention to homeowners. One storm victim declared, “I think the looters were as bad as the storm. They took all my husband’s clothes…Took our TV and VCR.” Order was restored when the National Guard began to stand sentry over banks, stores, and shopping centers; helped to clear debris; distributed emergency medical supplies; provided food and water; and enforced mandatory curfews. Relief efforts became better organized, and food, water, and medical supplies began to pour into the area. Numerous groups such as the Red Cross and the Salvation Army set up mobile kitchens, distributed clothing, and administered first aid to those in need. Like refugees from a bizarre civil war, residents of South Dade lined up at various distribution points to pick up supplies while nearby, roadways were jammed as astonished residents who had evacuated attempted to find their old neighborhoods. This was not an easy task because few signs, trees, or recognizable landmarks remained standing. Also clogging the roads were hoards of tourists who came to photograph and videotape the wreckage. As the days passed, the great spirit of cooperation that had existed among hurricane victims diminished, replaced with depression as the gravity of the ordeal began to sink in. Crime increased, the number of domestic-violence incidents soared, and many—especially children—suffered severe emotional stress. The lack of sleep, excessive heat, inability to bathe, and absence of conveniences of modern life contributed to the stress. Adding to the anxiety were summer thunderstorms that frightened many who associated their noisy approach with the roar of Andrew. The damages racked up by Andrew are staggering. In all, there were 43 deaths in Florida, over $30 billion in property damages (far beyond the damage estimates for any other natural disaster in U.S. history), and 175,000 people left homeless. Over 100,000 people eventually left southern Dade County for good, unable to pick up the pieces of their lives at the scene of their greatest loss. But prosperity slowly worked its way back into the area, nurturing a new generation of hurricane watchers. Hurricane Coordinates August 1992- Lime Green 18 N, 55 W 24 N, 63 W 26 N, 67 W 26 N, 71 W 26 N, 75 W 26 N, 84 W 26 N, 87 W 27 N, 91 W 29 N, 92 W 32 N, 93 W

Hurricane Erin- August 1995

Even before the hurricane season was under way, forecasters were predicting that 1995 would be an extremely busy year in the tropics. William Gray, a professor of atmospheric sciences at Colorado State University and the nation’s most well-known storm predictor, forecasted that twelve named storms would swing through the Atlantic Ocean, Caribbean Sea, and the Gulf of Mexico that year. A few weeks later, on August 1st, he increased the original number of predicted storms to sixteen named storms, including nine hurricanes. Gray had predicted a busy season, but the actual numbers surpassed even his estimates. By the time the 1995 storm season was over, the National Hurricane Center had tracked nineteen tropical storms, eleven of which had become hurricanes. 1995 was the second-most active hurricane season on record (in 1933, there were twenty-one tropical storms, while twelve hurricanes were monitored in 1969). Considering all of this storm activity, it made sense that 1995 would also be a record-breaking year in Florida as well. Two tropical storms and two hurricanes—Allison and Erin—struck the state that year. Allison threatened the state in early June with minimum hurricane-force winds of 75 MPH. In fact, by the time Hurricane Allison made landfall in the Panhandle near Apalachicola on June 5th, she had already been downgraded to a tropical storm, with winds of 65-70 MPH. No deaths were reported, and total property damages from Erin amounted to $1.7 million, most of which were from damages to a newly completed million-dollar roadway at Alligator Point. The next storm to call on Florida was Hurricane Erin, which churned across the Bahamas on August 1st on a track toward South Florida. For a while, it appeared that the Category 1 storm was going to make a direct hit on Dade County, the area that was ravaged by Hurricane Andrew, the Category 5 monster, less than three years before. A half-million South Florida residents packed their cars and fled. But Erin surprised residents of Florida’s east coast with a surprise turn to the northwest, striking Vero Beach with maximum sustained winds of 85 MPH. Fewer residents up the coast from Miami and Palm Beach heeded the evacuation order, not impressed with the storm’s winds. In Miami many residents were furious about the “misleading” hurricane warnings, vowing to never be fooled by them again. Dade County radio talk shows took forecasters and television reporters to task for misreading the storm’s track and even accused some of hyping the potential threat to gain viewers. Officials at the Hurricane Center responded by saying that hurricane forecasting was an inexact science, and residents should take every hurricane warning seriously. Erin’s strength waned as it crossed the peninsula. Brevard County experienced up to eight inched of rain, while the storm also caused extensive flooding to Melbourne and Palm Bay. Many neighborhoods were swamped by floodwaters that reached their doorsills. Handmade signs that read “No Wake, Please” were taped onto speed-limit signs, urging drivers to move slowly through flooded areas to avoid pushing waves into nearby living rooms. Electricity was out to over 1 million people, forcing many to leave their homes in search of malls and fast-food restaurants that still had air-conditioning. Minor roof damage occurred across the middle of the state, and fallen trees struck scores of homes and cars. As Erin meandered to the Gulf Coast and out into open water, it held its course and threatened Florida’s Panhandle. Although its journey across the state had downgraded Erin to a tropical storm, forecasters expected it to quickly pick up strength over the Gulf’s warm waters. The Panhandle was placed under a hurricane warning on the afternoon of the 2nd, but suggested that Erin might only brush the coast on its way to New Orleans. As a result, many went to bed that night unprepared for Erin’s next move. At 4:00AM on the 3rd, Erin was back up to hurricane strength and had taken a sharp turn toward the northwest. By this time, it was too late for many Panhandle residents to leave. Erin came ashore at Pensacola about 11:30AM with winds of up to 100 MPH. Later that afternoon, as the storm cleared, residents emerged to survey the damages. Almost 500,000 people lost power, and downed trees and power lines filled streets and yards. Around Pensacola church steeples were toppled, countless windows were shattered, and signs and awnings were broken and crumpled. The city’s water-supply system suffered when lines were ruptured by uprooted trees, causing water to boil out of the ground and mix with puddles of rainwater. Erosion was severe along the beachfront, where dunes crumbled, undermining some of Pensacola’s older historic homes. In the days and weeks after the storm, truckloads of generators, food, clothing, water, and other supplies were brought into the region to aid victims. Some arrived from great distances, including one tractor-trailer full of supplies from Oklahoma City donated by Pensacola native Emmitt Smith, a star player with the NFL’s Dallas Cowboys. Relief stations were established to serve those in need, while Florida governor Lawton Chiles requested a federal-emergency declaration from President Bill Clinton and made preparations to seek disaster assistance. Many along the northern Gulf Coast felt they had been ambushed by the storm. Because of the storm’s relatively modest impact on the east coast of Florida and its loss of strength as it crossed the peninsula, thousands of West Florida residents ignored the hurricane warnings, thinking that Erin would likely be a weak storm that would pass them by. Caught unprepared, many people called 911 the morning Erin made landfall near Pensacola, begging authorities to come to their rescue. Afterward, many people criticized the Hurricane Center and local officials for not specifying the danger. Once again forecasters defended their actions, saying that

Panhandle residents had focused too much on a particular track or point for Erin, not realizing that it didn’t take much of an angle change to make a big difference. Only three lives were lost on land, but Erin did cause several deaths at sea. One episode involved the 240-foot cruise ship Club Royale, which left Palm Beach well before the hurricane arrived when its captain and ten crewmembers attempted to outrun the storm off Cape Canaveral. Unfortunately, a northward shift brought the hurricane directly over the ship, and the floating casino went down, killing the captain and two of the crew; the Coast Guard later picked the eight others up after they escaped in life rafts. Near Cape San Blas a father and his nine-year-old daughter were lost and presumed dead after they ventured into the Gulf in a 12-foot inflatable raft, just hours before Erin’s approach began to churn the seas. Hurricane Erin also caused over $375 million in property damages in southeast and northwest Florida. Hurricane Coordinates

August 1995-Maroon 25 N, 60 W 25 N, 65 W 26 N, 70 W 26 N, 75 W 27 N, 79 W 28 N, 81 W 29 N, 85 W 29 N, 87 W 31 N, 88 W 34 N, 89 W

Hurricane Reading Notes

Directions: Read your assigned hurricane passage carefully, then answer the following questions to the best of your ability. Name/date of hurricane (remember, what was important about 1953?): Origins of hurricane: Caribbean islands affected: What part(s) of Florida was/were struck? What were the maximum windspeeds? What Category was the storm when it hit? Number of people dead? Injured? Number of buildings/homes destroyed? Damaged? Other damages involved? What was the estimated value of the property damage? In just 2-4 sentences, relate a particularly interesting experience or tale from the hurricane (you may choose two if you like):

Classroom Matrix Headings

The Hurricanes of

October 1906 & 1909

The Hurricane of October 1921

The Hurricane of September 1926

The Hurricane of September 1928

The Hurricane of September 1935

The Hurricane of September 1945

Hurricane “Easy”- September 1950

Hurricane Donna- September 1960

Hurricane Andrew- August 1992

Hurricane Erin- August 1995

Assessment 1.) The word “hurricane” is derived from:

a. the Spanish word “jurricano,” meaning “big windy storm;” b. both the Taino Indian word “huracan,” meaning “evil spirit,” and the Mayan word “Huraken,”

which was the Mayan god of storms and bad weather; c. none of the above

2.) A hurricane can cause destruction in which of the following ways?

a. winds only; b. rainfall only; c. storm surge only; d. all of the above

3.) Florida is especially vulnerable to hurricanes because:

a. it is near the tropics, where hurricanes tend to form and strengthen; b. hurricanes that form off the western edge of Africa tend to travel westward toward Florida

due to the prevailing winds; c. neither of the above d. both a & b

4.) A hurricane’s most destructive winds are usually found:

a. near the eye wall of the storm; b. in the approaching rainbands, hours ahead of the eye; c. in the trailing rainbands of the storm, well after the eye has passed over; d. trick question! Hurricane-force winds don’t cause much damage.

5.) Read the following statement: “When an unusually destructive hurricane hits, that hurricane’s name is

never used again.” Based on this information, do you think that the names of Donna or Andrew will ever be used again for naming storms? Explain your answer.

6.) Read the following situation: “You have just come home from school. Your family is huddled around

the television set, watching a Weather Channel update. It seems that a monstrous Category 4 hurricane has just decimated the Caribbean island nation of Cuba, killing hundreds, and is on a northern track towards Florida. Though its journey over Cuba has weakened it to some degree, it may intensify once it passes over the warm waters of the Strait of Florida.” Write at least two paragraphs about what choice you and your family will decide on (whether to stay or evacuate), and what preparations you will need to make. Would you decision to stay or evacuate change if you lived closer to the coast? Why?

7.) Why, as the 20th-century progressed in Florida, has the amount of lives lost with each passing

hurricane gradually diminished, while the amount of property damage has steadily increased? Explain your answer.

Resources

Barnes, Jay. Florida’s Hurricane History. University of North Carolina Press: Chapel Hill, NC (1998). http://fcit.usf.edu/florida/lessons/hurricane/hurricane.htm -“Hurricanes in Florida” http://earthobservatory.nasa.gov/Library/Hurricanes/ http://www.wunderground.com/hurricane/images/at193502.gif -Map of Labor Day 1935 hurricane http://lumahai.soest.hawaii.edu/history/andrew/andrew_track.gif -Map of Hurricane Andrew http://www2.sptimes.com/weather/HF.1.html -Storms of the Century http://www.nhc.noaa.gov/ -National Hurricane Center website http://www.photolib.noaa.gov/historic/nws/index.html -The NOAA’s Digital Photo Library (lots of hurricane-specific pictures) http://www.noaa.gov/hurricaneandrew.html -NOAA’s official Hurricane Andrew webpage