As I write this, it is the blizzard of January 29, 2022. I can’t see out many of my windows due to the snow against the panes. The wind is howling around this old house, and I am hoping that it will weather another gale-swept blizzard as it has done so for two centuries. The birds are fiercely hanging onto the bird feeders as they sway back and forth in the wind, trying to eat and stay warm in their fluffed-up wintry feathers. The woodstove is happily warming the living room, but I sit here in my cool office working on this month’s Tale of Tiverton for visitors to our website. Obviously, I chose the blizzard theme for my research into old papers. The first is an extract from the diary of Daniel Howland of Tiverton that was in one of our Whipping Post newsletters. The others are excerpts from articles in the Newport Mercury newspaper. So settle back with a cup of hot tea or cocoa and enjoy these reflections on blizzards, snowy gales, and cold weather in the years 1741 to 1888.
Extract from the Diary of Daniel Howland of Tiverton:
December 1741 and the first of January following there fell 6 or 7 snows, one upon another without a thaw between. Bristol Ferry was so frozen that said winter that people passed upon the ice from December 23 to January 10. January 30 Father came away from Boston and got home February 5th, there being 13 in company most of the way. And travelling every day. The bad travelling was caused by a great snow which fell the 28th and 29th of January, which, with the rest of the snows that was then remaining on the ground was counted five foot deep upon a level. Our well that’s three or four and twenty feet deep was frozen to a solid body of ice for three weeks, so that we got no water in that time.
1742 June 2, the ice thawed in John Howland’s well. June the 6th there was snow. Brought to a town meeting held at the town house in Portsmouth half a hat crown full from Job Lawton’s farm. June the 10th at the wedding of Joseph Freeborn, we the guests drank punch made of snow. The likes was never known in these parts before.
From the Newport Mercury, February 3, 1883:
The mayor of a Montana town went out during the recent blizzard to get a bucket of water. On his way to the house he spilled a little on the ground. Into which he put his foot. It froze so quickly that he had to be pulled out of his boot and leave it there until a thaw came.
From the Newport Mercury, November 24, 1883:
Reports from northern Maine show most disastrous results of the gale. Old inhabitants remember no gale of such velocity. Many buildings have been destroyed, several persons seriously injured and millions of dollars’ worth of valuable timber in Maine forests destroyed. The extent of damage in Oxford County alone is estimated at $75,000. The loss in the one town of Bethel is upwards of $20,000. J. H. Carter of Bethel was hurled thirty rods and taken up senseless. Many cattle were buried in the ruins of barns. Franklin County reports $50,000 damage. The Sandy River Railroad bridge at Phillips was moved and Cabal bridge at Strong was broken. At Wilton the largest sailboat on the lake, owned by Bartlett & Son, was sunk. The blizzard in Rangeley Lake region was fearful, no particulars being yet furnished, as roads are impassable and stages stopped.
From the Newport Mercury, January 30, 1886:
Severe and sudden changes have long been considered characteristics of a Newport winter and according to present indications this season is to be no exception. Within the past two weeks we have had days and nights with the thermometer several degrees below zero and days and nights with it several degrees above the freezing point. Blizzards, followed by sleighing, coasting and skating, and a real old-fashioned January thaw, with the usual accompaniment of slush and flooded streets, have been here within that time and hundreds of men then engaged in cutting handsome ten and twelve inch ice are now anxiously waiting for a freeze.
From the Newport Mercury, March 17, 1888:
The New England and Middle States have this week experienced a genuine Dakota blizzard. Snow commenced to fall in most places in the region mentioned at an early hour Monday and continued with more or less earnest till Wednesday afternoon. In this region it rained much of that time, only a few inches of snow fell and the sun of Thursday dispersed what there was. The New York blockade was not broken till Thursday, and papers and letters from New York and the West could not reach here till Thursday night.
The storm began in New York with a slight snow fall about 8 o’clock on Sunday night, which hardly whitened the earth, and steady rain followed, lasting until 4:30 o’clock Monday morning. A cold wave had flung itself across the region surrounding the city by 5 o’clock, and the steadily falling rain became snow. By 8 o’clock it was blowing a gale, and the snow was falling at a remarkable rapid rate. The wind increased, until at 6 o’clock on Monday evening it was blowing like a hurricane, and people on the street had difficulty in standing up. The stores and offices closed before 3 o’clock that afternoon, and by evening every one seemed to realize that a storm which would be long remembered was at hand. The wind was high and the snow continued to fall very rapidly until midnight of Monday. By Tuesday morning the wind had gone down a great deal and the snow had stopped, but it was not clear weather. There was more snow and an increase of wind again as Tuesday advanced, but by night wind and snow had almost disappeared. Wednesday morning the sun arose amid clouds, and the clouds brought snow about 11 o’clock, but the day closed fairly pleasant.
The snow fell to the depth of two and a half feet on a level over all the country within a radius of 30 miles of New York. It lay in drifts of six and eight feet high on all the streets. When the medium early risers, those who get up at 7.30 to 8.30 o’clock in the morning, were ready to go to business on Monday, they found the horse cars gradually being tied up. The snow which had fallen after the heavy rain froze down hard and had rendered the use of the snow plows futile. It was but an hour or two later when the elevated roads began to be troubled, and by noon every traction vehicle in the city was useless. It grew bitterly cold, too, six degrees above zero being generally recorded, and by early evening, the exposure of the nose or ears to the storm was in the case of most people attended with freezing, thought about which was put out of the question by the stinging violence of the storm as one tried to make way in it.
In the afternoon, as has been said, New York began to prepare for a bad night, and the hotels began to fill up. Many who were residents in distant parts of the city went to the hotels at once and registered for the night. By 8:30 o’clock it was impossible to get a room in any hotel down town unless the rent was paid in advance, and by midnight there were hundreds of persons sleeping on mattresses and couches in the hallways of the best hotels. It is a fact, though perhaps hard to believe, that after a Monday night a person who was unwilling to pay a small fortune for a room, say $25 to $50, could not get one. On that Monday night, too, the hacks and cabs charged, and received, fares ranging the cabs from $3 to $10, and the hacks $5 to $25 for a single trip.
Business was paralyzed everywhere. Trains were stalled on all the great through lines, and passengers were compelled to suffer both from cold and hunger. The Old Colony was the only road leading out of Boston that could run trains. On the New York Central between New York and Albany there were forty trains stalled from Monday till Thursday.
History.com offers this synopsis of the Blizzard of 1888:
After a stretch of rainy but unseasonably mild weather, temperatures plunged and vicious winds kicked up, blanketing the East Coast in snow and creating drifts up to 50 feet high. The storm immobilized New York, Boston, and other major cities, blocking roads and wiping out telephone, telegraph, and rail service for several days. When the skies finally cleared, fires and flooding inflicted millions of dollars of damage. The disaster resulted in more than 400 deaths, including 200 in New York City alone. In the decade that followed, partly in response to the 1888 storm and the massive gridlock it wrought, New York and Boston broke ground on the country’s first underground subway systems.