The Great Blizzard: Tale of the Tape

The powerful northeaster that walloped New England, especially coastal Massachusetts and Rhode Island, over two days in February 1978 (the 6th and 7th), was a cataclysmic meteorological event (the number of storm-related deaths was put at 54 by some estimates) the details of which were etched in the memories of those, like Mary Casey Forry, who happened to be around that first week of February.

Born on Feb. 5 in the merger off the Middle Atlantic states of a large mass of cold air from the Midwest and a dense low pressure system moving north along the coast from the Carolinas, the storm quickly assumed the powerful swirl of the classic northeaster of legend – a counter-clockwise rotation that moves a system to the northeast while its pinwheel arms, their fetch reaching far out to sea, draw back to the coast from the northeast hurricane winds that engender enormous amounts of precipitation and overwhelming flood tides.

These storms are usually moving quickly as their centers cross eastern Massachusetts en route to points north and east, often clearing the area in less than a day, but in this case, a large high pressure system in eastern Canada blocked the onrush of the blizzard, which pounded eastern New England for the better part of 36 hours before moving on.

Peak winds along the Massachusetts and Rhode Island coasts for the period of Feb. 6-7 reached beyond hurricane force (75 mph). Snowfall levels were hard to categorize because such heavy winds meant enormous drifting of snow, up to 15 feet in many places, but Logan Airport came in with a tally of 27.1 inches, a record for Boston, while localities to the south and east near the Rhode Island border poste levels close to 40 inches.

The blowing snow stopped all traffic in its place in Boston and environs. In the most celebrated scene, some 3,000 vehicles were stranded along Route 128, their operators unable to move them once vehicles around them began to stall in the drifting piles of snow. There were eight deaths recorded in stranded cars across the region, five of them from carbon monoxide poisoning. In Boston, Mayor Kevin H. White’s team declared an emergency that until the following Sunday closed the city’s roads to all but emergency and commercially necessary vehicles.

And because it was the time of a new moon, the ebb and flow of four high tides, with waves reaching 20 feet during the storm’s extended time over the region, caused the heaviest coastal flooding in memory. Scores of beachfront homes were washed away, some 1,800 were badly damaged or destroyed and up to 45,000 sought refuge in emergency shelters.

Mary Casey ForryThe following is the story of a truly stormy week in February 1978 as told by the late Mary Casey Forry, the co-founder of the Dorchester Reporter. Mrs. Forry died in 2004. -Ed.

Monday, February 6
We woke relatively early (around 8 a.m.) because we heard we were going to get some snow. Mum stayed overnight last night after returning from the local Bingo game where we proceeded to be relieved of our shirts. But when I awoke, she was already up and had the tea on. After a couple of cups to get our blood circulating, we headed for Belmont where we hit the bank, Ben Franklin’s, and Friendly’s for breakfast.

The wind was blowing at a good rate when we left, but no sign of snow. I thought I saw a flake or two outside of the bank, but Mum said I was imagining things. (We had just recovered from a storm two weeks before which had dumped 24 inches on us, and I guess I was getting a little gun shy.) We finished at the bank where Mum replenished her funds after the night at Bingo, and headed for the Five and Ten to get Bill’s daily prize for being born. He got a Bingo game and a Star Wars (what else!) notebook.

Finished there, we headed for Friendly’s and were in the middle of our bacon and eggs when I first noticed it. Swirling up Trapelo Road past the fruit and vegetable store and the drug store and on downwards to Cambridge, there it was, the snow they had been forecasting since Friday, heading northeast from the Rockies, they said. Might pick up a low pressure area headed up from the south. Could be the worst storm of the year.

I turned to Mum and she must have noticed the panic in my face because she said, “You’ve not even going to stop. I’ll jump out at Vincent Ave. and you keep going. I’ll be a nervous wreck until you get home.” We finished our meal and headed for the car. As we started down Trapelo Road, I turned on the radio and Don Kent said not to worry, this wasn’t the big storm, just some squalls. Good. That would give me an hour and a half to get home. I told Mum I would see her on Thursday for Bingo in Belmont. (Gamblers Anonymous is looking for me.) I headed for Dorchester without too many delays, and Richmond Street looked darn good to me as I turned into the driveway.

I had just about convinced myself that this was just another false alarm, and was taking Bill and his things out of the car and heading towards the house when a gust of wind hit us that damn near knocked us over. Well, at least it waited until I get home, now all I had to worry about was Eddie getting home.

3:30 p.m. Eddie finally pulled into the driveway. It’s getting pretty bad out now. The snow wasn’t really settling on the ground yet. It’s being blown around pretty well by the wind. Eddie had a lot of calls to make because he left work early, and I had a hell of a time keeping Bill downstairs and out of Eddie’s office. I had to go up four or five times to throw him out, and he just shot me with his finger in that dear way he has. I gave up and made myself a drink.

5 p.m. I hadn’t heard from Mum if Jim had gotten home, so I called and Mum told me that he had decided to stay in Providence until after the storm and he would see her tomorrow.

6 p.m. Settled down to dinner and the news. Heard all about the delays caused by the storm, and that commuters would be several hours late so all you wives out there be sure to keep dinner warm.

8 p.m. Bedtime. Eddie took Bill upstairs. It’s hard to see out of the windows now, because the wind is blowing snow against the windows and it’s beginning to pile up on them. I was almost afraid to let Eddie put Bill to bed because the wind was so strong I’m afraid (as I am in every storm) that the big beech tree outside the house will fall down and split the house in half. But, I let it go because the possibility of the house falling down is less than the probability of Bill’s driving me insane if he stayed up.

8:30 p.m. Told Eddie to check the attic because I heard some strange noises. When he yelled for me to come up I knew I was sorry I asked. The wind was blowing snow through the attic, and there were little piles of snow on the floor. Wonderful! Buy an old house, I thought! We threw down pieces of blankets and spreads to catch the snow. There wasn’t a damn thing we could do about it until spring.

9:30 p.m. We sat and watched television and waited for the electricity to fail. It didn’t.

11 p.m. More news. More delays. More snow.

Tuesday, February 7
Woke up and found myself on the sofa in the den, snow still blowing all around. I went up to bed thinking that if that damn tree falls, it will take all the front bedrooms with it, but what the hell, we might as well all go together. If we live through this, I’m going to petition the City of Boston to take that damn thing down this summer.

Blizzard of '786:30 a.m. The front doorbell rang. I punched Eddie and he jumped up and put his trousers on. “I think it’s Cheryl next door delivering the Globe,” he said. He didn’t want to get caught in his underwear again (but that’s another story). I rolled over, still asleep and after a minute or two I heard men’s voices.

I went to the landing and someone was talking about having to crawl up Richmond Street on his hands and knees to get as far as our house. I grabbed my robe and a blanket and ran down to find Paul Forry, Eddie’s cousin, in the front hall. His color ranged from red to a rather sickly blue, and for a while I thought we were going to have a body on our front hall floor.

I put the kettle on and wrapped him up in the blanket, and when he could talk, he told us that he had been in his car in Lower Mills since 1:30 a.m. and couldn’t move because two MBTA buses, a couple of snowplows, plus about ten cars were blocking Adams Street. So when it got light out, he thought of us and decided to walk to our house. It took him over an hour to make an otherwise seven-minute walk. We thawed him out, called his wife, gave him some dry clothes, and put him to bed.

7:30 a.m. Turned on television. The news wasn’t good. A state of emergency had been instituted in the state. Between 3,000 to 5,000 cars had been abandoned along Route 128. The governor had called out the National Guard. Everything in the city has been shut down.

9 a.m. Got through to Mum. All was well there. Jim called from Providence, where he spent the night at the Holiday Inn. Everything in Rhode Island was shut down too.

1:30 p.m. It’s still snowing and blowing. Paul was awake and almost back to normal. He and Eddie went to check on his car and it’s buried along with all the others in the area. No streets are passable.

2 p.m. A tractor that looks like a Sherman tank comes up Richmond Street. It’s followed by two more snowplows, one of which is stuck and having a hard time moving the snow. The tank circles around and makes another pass so that they can move again. We start to make a tape recording for Margaret. She’ll never believe this one.

3 p.m. Paul decides to walk home; he’s worried about his wife and the horses.

4 p.m. Still snowing.

4:30 p.m. Still snowing. Paul called to say that he made it home on foot. It took him an hour and a half.

5:30 p.m. It’s still snowing.

7:30 p.m. Ditto.

9 p.m. We’re still waiting for the snow to let up.

10:30 p.m. I’m not sure, but I think it has stopped.

11 p.m. News. Governor is asking for Federal troops to be flown in as soon as they can clear Logan so a plane can land.

Wednesday, February 7
9 a.m. The sun is shining. It’s a beautiful day. I can’t believe all of this. There is snow everywhere. Eddie’s car, which is at the end of the driveway, has disappeared. But I know it’s there because I can see about seven inches of antenna.

I get dressed and start to clear a path to the front of the house, but it’s hard because the snow is up to my waist. People are stranded everywhere, including the television stations. They are just sitting around staring at one another and trying to make conversation. At Channel 5 they brought out a camera to the front of the building to show what Route 128 looked like. All we can see are buried cars. There is an abandoned catering truck along the exit ramp, and they are wondering how they can get to it because there’s no food at the station and no way of getting it in.

9:30 a.m. Mum is fine. Jim naturally, is still in Providence. He’s going to try to walk as far as Kane’s house. Mum’s snow plower promises he’ll get there as soon as he can.

10 a.m. We decide to go for a walk. The street is plowed fairly well, because it’s the only access route to the Carney Hospital. Everyone is walking because there is a ban on car travel. Anyone caught driving is subject to a $500 fine and a year in jail. It’s warm (high 30’s) and I think we’ve overdressed.

On Dorchester Avenue, we meet a nurse who is on call at the Carney and is getting there via cross country skis. She tells us that they are busy there doing deliveries for babies whose mothers couldn’t get to intown hospitals. The area is like a science fiction movie, with cars everywhere and no one in them. We are stepping over them in some areas. We got a few things at the local market and head home. I’m really tired because I’m not used to walking in snow, not to mention breathing fresh air.

3 p.m. I’ve just awakened from a nap. I get up, look outside, go downstairs and announce to Eddie that as soon as Logan is cleared, and the state of emergency is over, I am taking the first plane out of here. I will come back in the spring when the snow is melted and sell the house, and we will all move to Florida.

6 p.m. More bad news reports. Coastal areas are very badly damaged and they are evacuating people from their homes by boat. The hardest hit towns were Revere, Hull, Scituate, Rockport, and on down along the coast.

I forgot to mention that this afternoon Paul Forry came back for some things he left here. He came on one of his horses, and he tied him up on the railing on the front of the house. The girl across the street thought she was losing her mind and told me later that she heard a horse and kept telling herself to hold on, it would pass. But there really was one, and he made quite a sensation. Someone told us that Paul looked like General Patton coming up Dorchester Avenue.

11 p.m. I talked to Kathleen, who is freezing because the temperatures in Florida are in the 60’s and 40’s at night. I went into great detail about how badly I felt for her. She was concerned because she had heard down there what a storm it was, but felt better when I told her that we had all made it through.

Thursday, February 8
9 a.m. The state of emergency is still in effect. No one was allowed to be on the streets in cars. The state is closed down except for markets that could get people in to open them.

10:30 a.m. We went for another walk and there are still many streets that haven’t been plowed. There are lines of people at the markets and they have run out of bread and milk. There have been emergency numbers set up all over for people who have medical problems, and the Army (they made it!) and National Guard are doing a terrific job, transporting people back and forth to the hospitals, etc. We walked to Vera Street to check on Eddie’s parents, who are fine. It’s funny to be walking along the major arteries on the city and only find an occasional Army jeep or a police car going by. Everyone on the streets is very friendly and helpful. It’s amazing!

4 p.m. The governor has had his daily news conference and the state of emergency is being continued through Friday night. The Army and National Guard are continuing to clear cars from Route 128 and other main highways. Providence is in the same trouble and is getting help, too.

6 p.m. More bad news about damage. Rockport was badly hit, with Bearskin Neck receiving considerable damage by high tides and wind with several houses being washed away. Motif Number 1 was also washed out to sea, but they have promised to rebuild it in the future. In Boston, the boat that was moored alongside Anthony’s Pier 4 Restaurant, the Peter Stuyvesant, pulled up from its steel underpins and sank in Boston Harbor, but plans are to try to salvage it also.

Houses were washed away all along the coast and the damage to beach areas is severe, but Federal money will be available for restoring all of these.

11 p.m. Not much for us to do with the conditions the way they are. We certainly got away lucky, though.

Friday, February 9
9 a.m. This is our fifth day in the house, and we are all starting to get a little crazy. I started working on all the closest and cabinets in the house, and the place has never been so clean. Everything is still closed except the markets and the banks. Eddie went to work today and got permission to use his car to shuttle employees from one bank branch to another. He was stopped eight or nine times by National Guardsmen who are looking for unauthorized drivers. Bill was very upset because he thought dear old dad would get arrested and sent up the river.

It’s difficult being inside having absolutely nowhere to go. Bill was sent to his room this afternoon for talking back to me and he really lost his temper and yelled to me “How did I ever end up with a Mum like you?”

4 p.m. Governor says Logan may open on Saturday. But they are still not allowing cars on the streets, so anyone wanting to get there will have to walk! There’s very little public transportation running. He also said they are making headway getting cars cleared from Route 128, but in order to pick up a car where it was abandoned, you have to walk to the exit ramp closest to where you left it, and they will take you to your car. Paul Doyle across the street is a State policeman and he told us that they have had a lot of problems with vandalism of the cars along there, so people aren’t going to find the same cars they left.

4:30 p.m. Eddie got home from work. He has a terrible headache from all the problems he ran into trying to get around the city. He brought me home a gallon of milk, a half gallon of Coke, and a pint of rum. Guess which one I was happiest to see!

11 p.m. Going to bed. Terminal boredom is setting in.

Saturday, February 10
10 a.m. Just got up. Nothing to do. Even the cats are fighting with each other. I plan to dirty up the house a little but just so I’ll have something to do. I talked to Mum on the phone and she says that everything is fine. She talked to Jim and he can’t wait to get out of the state of Rhode Island.

11 a.m. We went for another walk to the village. Things seem to be picking up a bit. The newspapers are being delivered again, and people seem to be getting back on track. The snow plow made another pass up our street last night and snowed in all the people who had spent days shoveling out their cars. I passed one man, and commented that it was too bad they had to do that and I thought he was going to kill me. “I’m really getting mad now,” he said. And I didn’t wait around to see what he might do to me because he couldn’t get his hands on the guy who plowed him back in.

3 p.m. Eddie and I had a big fight because he took my sofa and I had to sit in his lousy chair. Plus, I’m noticing a lot of things that are wrong with this rotten house.

4 p.m. Governor has lifted the driving ban in a couple of communities, including Belmont. But it is still in effect through Sunday night at midnight in Boston. They are also not allowing any traffic into Boston on Monday, even though they plan to let businesses open, because, believe it or not, there is another snowstorm heading our way!