Just 123 miles south of our hometown is the city of Galveston, Texas. On our most recent excursion to the island, Jeff and I decided to visit the Pier 21 Theater to preview its presentation of The Great Storm. This 27-minute multimedia documentary is of the greatest disaster in Galveston history, the hurricane of Saturday, September 8, 1900.
Digitally restored from a previously shown 35mm slide presentation, The Great Storm plays on a wide-screen in high definition. The documentary pulls from letters, journals, diaries, and other accounts from the surviving Galveston residents. It uses voice-overs, sketches, and black and white photos, taken both before and after the disaster, to tell its tale.
The Great Storm opens with several photographic captures of the hustle and bustle of the prosperous Galveston island seaport. Spoken in a deeply southern drawl, viewers hear a voice from the past:
“Galveston possesses perhaps more wealth than any other city in the United States, having a like number of population. Her provincial residents are numerous and her commercial and public buildings are among the finest in the South.”
According to the reel, business transactions were made in saloons and days could be spent “bathing” on the coast or lounging in attractive gardens, while evening entertainment included ballrooms, music halls, and “hastening to the darker areas of the porches” at The Beach Hotel.
There even was a system of electric streetcars that traveled along nearly 50 miles of track. These were:
“…liberally patronized by the younger classes who seem not to take too hastily to pedal exercise and by the good-laced class whose occupation gives little time to walking.”
Interestingly enough, the destruction of Galveston was seemingly foreshadowed about 40 years earlier in a quote published in “Braman’s Information About Texas” (1858) that stated, “…I should as soon think of founding a city on an iceberg as on Galveston Island, if I looked to its safety and perpetuity.”
And then, on September 4, 1900 at 4:00 PM an Advisory was sent:
“Tropical storm disturbance moving northbound
over western Cuba. Advise westward bound vessels
that high winds may be expected over east Gulf
and Florida west during the next two days.”
A few days later Joseph Cline, working as an assistant weather observer under the tutelage of his brother Isaac, reported that conditions on September 7th were ideal as far as weather was concerned, although the extremely heavy swell of the gulf startled him, keeping him from “bathing” in it.
By September 8 at 4:00 am things were changing dramatically as the waters of the gulf were already in the back yards of some homes, but even at 12:00 noon residents were undisturbed; ladies and kids were reported “wading in the water” and “picking up driftwood and other things floating down the street.”
“Unusually heavy swells from the Southeast.
overflowing low places south portion of the
city, three or four blocks from the beach.
Such high water with opposing winds never
Naturally, there were no photos caught in the midst of the storm, but as the voice-overs told the personal stories of those who were caught up in the midst of it I found the hairs on the back of my neck standing straight up imagining the horror of it.
Residents were forced to the second stories of their homes as the homes were battered with all manner of trash, from masonry to telephone poles, even to trestles ripped from the moorings of the railway lines.
As homes collapsed from the surge, residents who were not trapped and pulled-under by debris in the sea, grasped whatever floating items they could find, and held fast as the waves mercilessly whipped them out to the sea and back.
Sunday morning, September 9th, the storm waters receded.
A clear sky and brilliant sunrise was reported, as well as streets filled up to two stories high with the remains of houses, dead bodies, furniture, sewing machines, pianos, and animals.
Dazed men, women and children who survived the storm walked throughout the streets barely dressed, often bleeding from their heads and bodies.
The photos of the aftermath of the storm are ghastly enough to still the heart, but as is often the case after tragedy of this sort, law is ignored and vagrants abound.
Martial law was quickly and officially proclaimed to communicate the chain of command and for managing clean-up and looters.
Likewise, notices were released so residents knew who to contact to locate food. This really points to the extent of individual loss. With homes demolished by nature, nowhere to be found, people were unable to even fulfill their most basic need for food.
Documentaries like this strike at my very core. I think of the terror of not being able to protect my children. I cannot imagine searching for them or my husband, hoping not to find them among the bodies and debris, but wanting to know what happened to them at the same time.
The hurricane’s exact wind velocity is unknown as the last velocity measured, before the instruments were blown off the roof of the weather bureau, was 100 mph. The storm tide reached 16 feet above the sea wall and the barometric pressure was the lowest ever reported in the U.S. up to that date.
At least 6,000 perished in the storm of 1900. The morgue was unable to handle the sheer number of bodies, and while originally it was thought the bodies could be attached to weights and sunk out at sea, the ocean callously, yet promptly, returned the bodies to the shore to be dealt with once again.
Eventually it was determined the bodies would all be incinerated beneath piles of wreckage wherever they were found throughout the city.
In a matter of days relief poured in from all over the world. And as the city began to rebuild itself, in January 1902 recommendations were made to protect the city with a solid concrete wall that would extend 17 feet above sea level.
Beyond the wall the city would surmount the amazing task of raising the grade of the entire city.
Sand was excavated from the extreme eastern and western sections of the city, as well as the ship channel, and deposited in the town through dredge pipes and canals. Over 2000 buildings were raised on stilts, some raised as much as 13 feet.
The entire project cost around six million dollars (a significant amount of money NOW, but even more awesome in 1900). Surprisingly, the work was funded to a great extent by Galveston’s dedicated citizens.
Fifteen years later the seawall proved its value by protecting the city from a hurricane reported as equivalent to the storm of 1900. While 8 victims did die in this 1915 hurricane, it was a far cry from the thousands who died before.
This year Meredith is studying Texas History alongside many of her friends in our local homeschool co-op. Her class requires outside Texas History readings, so I found two historical fiction readers about the storm of 1900. She has completed Galveston’s Summer of the Storm and she is now reading Dark Water Rising.
Since The Great Storm is recognized as a significant part of the history of our “local” area, I was excited to preview the documentary and hoped it worthy of a return visit with at least my own children, if not a group of our co-op kids. It was worthy and I highly recommend it to anyone visiting Galveston island.
As Jeff and I walked throughout the city, we saw this “1900 Storm Survivor” seal on multiple buildings. I began to think if we did take a group of kids it would be exciting to follow-up the documentary with a historical scavenger hunt. Students could be divided into teams to scout-out buildings proudly bearing this seal. Along the way their guide could give them clues as to how to get to the next location, pointing out the architectural and historical significance of each building they came across.
If you ever find yourself in Galveston, Texas, take time to go and watch the The Great Storm. It is well worth the $5.00 fee. You will leave the theater feeling that swell of pride that comes after encountering a story of how people can pull together through hard times, and not only survive, but thrive.
Galveston: A City on Stilts, by Jodi Wright-Gidley and Jennifer Marines
Galveston and the 1900 Storm, by Patricia Bellis Bixel and Elizabeth Hayes Turner
Through a Night of Horrors: Voices from the 1900 Galveston Storm, edited by Casey Edward Greene and Shelly Henley Kelly
Story of the 1900 Galveston Hurricane, edited by Nathan C. Green
About the Author: Heather Sanders is a work at home mom who homeschools her three children. If you’d like to learn if it’s possible for you to pursue your passions and earn an income while staying home with your kids, subscribe today.