This is Part 3 of this story, taken from accounts by my grandfather and great
aunt, as well as historical record. (If you didn't read Part
1 and Part 2 go on over
there and then come back here!)
The Storm of 1919 that decimated Corpus Christi, Texas, is the fourth most intense and deadly hurricane of the 20th century. It would have been rated a Cat. 4 hurricane by modern scales.The official death toll was upwards of 700 people, counting 10 ships at sea that were swallowed by the storm, but modern historians put the toll at closer to 1200.
Rosa's panicked shriek as her arms were ripped from Rob's waist still rang in his ears as the front of the hotel sheared away and he was carried away by the furious, sixteen foot storm surge. He worked to keep his head above water, while debris, other people, and even a horse battered into him in the frenetic ride to the sea. Frothy water slapped at him, driving up his nose and down his mouth. His arms flailed and his legs kicked as he struggled to stay above water and to grab at anything; anything that would keep him from being swept out to sea. His arms closed around part of a roof that sailed along next to him, but the force of the current raked his hands over the exposed nails and the jagged wood.
In a moment when his focus contracted to a single point ahead, he spotted his last chance, a three story building with the roof still above water. He made one last desperate heave for it as the water funneled him past. His bloody fingers just managed to latch a grip onto it, and with strength from an unknown reservoir, he pulled himself over the edge and onto the top. When he came to, the winds had subsided and the water was already receding. The devastation before him was untenable. His refuge was the only building he could see left standing, and then only partially, as the southwest corner of it had washed away. Rosa, Rosa, Rosa...was all that filled his head.
Mama, the girls, and little Henry felt the wagon lifting off the ground with the force of the wind just as the schoolhouse came into sight. She jumped out and pushed each child to the doorway. Others already inside held the door open against the wind and pulled them in the rest of the way. Mama sat on the floor, held little Henry in her lap, and slumped at the effort of it. The little girls were soon playing while the wind blasted the stone walls and the rain drove like darts against the covered windows. Oh Lord, let my men be safe, she silently prayed. Just let them be safe.
Maria was losing the battle, the sucking power of the sea still unrelenting and unsatisfied. She knew she was being swept past the Spohn Sanitarium, the city hospital, and she had seen people on the top of the long steps, but she was being pulled under again, not even sure if she was right side up or upside down. She felt something pull, grab her long hair and pull hard. Even as she was being lifted from the water with those tight holds on her hair, she didn't want to let herself believe she was being saved, and yet she was. Those two men who hauled her by her hair out of the water, nabbing hold of it as she was swept past, did not let go, and pulled her all the way inside, passing her off to others inside who carried her up the stairs to the second floor.
Rob stumbled through debris, trying to get his bearings in a landscape that looked more like one of the bombed cities he'd seen in action in WWI than that of a booming beach vacation spot. He found the sign of the Pavillion Hotel, where he'd spent such sweet days with his bride Rosa, but not one stick of the building was left. Not one.
M. C. and Father spent long hours huddled under the little outcropping, shielding the three newborn calves they with them. They felt the aberrant eye of the storm pass over, with stillness so profound M.C. heard a leaf touch the ground just beyond them. And then like a tag team match, the infuriated backside winds of the storm roared after them. When finally all was past, M. C. and Father ventured out with the calves. At the bloated river crossing, with no horse, wagon, or bridge, M. C. had an epiphany on how to cross, desperate as they were to find Mama and the other kids. Hay bales floated past and jammed at a narrow point. He and Father picked their way gingerly across, ferrying each calf with them.
"If I know your Mama, she took the kids and headed for the schoolhouse," Father said as they surveyed what was left of their empty home. "Let's head there."
Maria found safety with the others in the hospital, and they were plucked out of the highest windows by boat that ferried them to stable ground. Bleeding, battered, and bruised, she rubbed her belly gently and breathed a prayer of thanks.
Epilogue:
Among the rolls of the deceased in Corpus Christi in the Storm of 1919 were:
Mrs. Rosa Robnet, Rob's beloved bride
Jose Hernandez, husband of Maria
Pablita Hernandez, daughter of Maria
George Hernandez, son of Maria
Rob moved back to the east coast, mired in his own devastation. He healed from his physical injuries and began a law practice. He never remarried.
M. C. helped in the recovery efforts and even weeks later, found bodies washed up into the river flats, so coated with oil from breached oil storage tanks and in such bad condition there was no way of ever identifying them. He and Father worked ceaselessly with the others until all the dead were recovered and buried, many of the unidentifiable in mass graves. Mama prayed a prayer of thanks everyday for the rest of her long life that her family was spared. M. C. didn't like to talk about that time, but he made sure his children and his grandchildren, including me, respected the power and fury of nature.
Maria wanted to die herself when she found out her entire family was gone. She couldn't imagine what she had left to live for. But her suspicions proved correct and she was already pregnant when she was pulled by her long hair out of that killer storm. Even though she'd miscarried several babies before the storm, this new baby held onto life in her womb as ferociously as she had in the storm. She had a son, and named him Jose, after his father.
Showing posts with label hurricane. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hurricane. Show all posts
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Sunday, July 1, 2012
A Storm (Part Two)
(This is Part Two of this story, taken from accounts by my grandfather and great aunt, as well as historical record. If you didn't read Part 1, go on over there and read it. Then come back here! And here is Part 3.)
...And yet, even into the night when the heavier rain began, people didn't abandon their feelings of security, although under the ebony, water laden skies, the sea had already begun silent deliveries of an ominous cargo, depositing them onto the beach with the high tide.
The silent deliveries the agitated sea pushed onto the beach that night would have chilled the souls of anyone who had seen them, as well as given stark warning as to what was furiously churning a bulls- eye into Corpus Christi. But no one saw them, not until it was much too late. Wreckage from one of the ships the clandestinely raging hurricane had chewed up and spit out reached land before the storm. Among the splintered wood and ephemeral flotsam were several broken bodies of the sailors of that ship.
Although it was raining, Rosa pressed her nose to the window of their honeymoon suite. It was still early, and the breaking sun was barely visible, but she wanted one last drink of the breathtaking vista. "Look, Rob, isn't is gorgeous, even with the rain?" Rob pulled open the curtain even as he latched his long arm around her tiny waist. His brow furrowed in concern as he took in the the wild frenzy of the distant, wind whipped waves. "What's wrong, honey?" Rosa asked, seeing his concern.
"Don't you worry, my sweet Rosa. I'm going to talk with the manager. That looks like a nasty sea out there. You finish packing and we'll be on our way quickly home," he assured her, his long legs already striding for the door.
Father shouted to M.C. over the gusting wind, even as he slapped the reins, urging the horses on. "Son, we've got to get those newborn calves back up here into the wagon and back into the barn. The rest of the cattle will follow if we can get the calves into the wagon. I really don't like the looks of this storm. This makes me thankful we're inland ten miles. Old Parker, right there so close to the island, is going to have a hard time with this, coming in from the east like it is."
M. C. nodded in agreement as the wagon bumped over the small bridge spanning the river. He pulled his hat down tighter over his head to try and provide a better cover for the rivulets of rain already flowing inside his jacket.
Maria called out, "Be careful, Jose! I don't like you and the kids being out in this storm- This wind is blowing hard and the rain is really picking up!"
"Don't worry, Mama. We'll have that mule picked up in no time. Then, we can go to noon mass together, when this storm lets up. It won't take us long," Jose said over his shoulder to her as he, twelve year old Pablita and ten year old George hustled down the road from their seaside shanty to pick up the mule and get it back into the small stable he'd built for it in the back.
Maria rubbed her belly nervously, not liking the look of the sea or the feel of the stinging rain, slung down from the sky with such force that it felt like small stones. She suspected, but hadn't yet told Jose, that she was pregnant again. She'd lost the last three babies early in those pregnancies, and this was one she wanted with all her heart. She relaxed a little as she thought of her blessings in her hard working man, Jose, who had such big dreams for the future, of Pablita, the shy girl with liquid brown eyes and glossy, braided hair, and of George, who was smarter already than many adults. She prayed and asked God to keep her family in His care.
Rob had only been gone a few minutes when such a blast of wind hit the hotel broadside that the floorboards groaned and the walls shrieked at the strain. Rob burst into the room to find Rosa, suitcase already packed, sitting wide eyed on the bed. "Hurry, darling! It's a hurricane! We must get to higher ground!" The shock rendered Rosa mute, but she held her beloved's hand tightly as he guided her to the stairs.
Already the salt water had erputed across the sand and the storm surge was pushing across the street and into the hotel lobby. Other panicked guests joined them in the flight up the stairs to the top floor. "Hold onto me!" Rob instructed Rosa. "Don't let go, no matter what!" Her small arms wrapped around his waist as he navigated a path for them.
The stairs swayed and then buckled as wind gusts over 110 mph tore through the boards like they were cardboard. Rosa screamed as her arms were torn from their grip on Rob's waist and he disappeared into the maelstrom as the whole front wall of the hotel sheared away in front of them. The swirling water gushed in like a hungry predator.
Father worked to control the team as the winds whipped the wagon back and forth. M. C. held onto the three young calves they had gathered in the back. "Son, we've got to take shelter! This storm is trying to carry us away!" They unhitched the horses and gave them their head while running for an outcropping that could provide some shelter. Each held a calf in one arm and shared the third calf between them. "Father, what about Mama and the girls and little Henry?" M. C. shouted as they reached the outcropping.
"Pray, Son, pray!" was all his undone father could reply.
Back at the house Mama gathered the girls and Henry and while she hitched a horse to the light wagon. "Hurry kids, we've got to try to make it to the schoolhouse! It's on the highest ground and the sturdiest building. We're going to ride fast. I need you to hang on tight! Girls, all of you need to keep a hand on Henry," she instructed even as they forced themselves against the wind into the wagon and she slapped the horse to a gallop.
"Mama, what about Father and M. C.?" her oldest girl shouted as they jolted along the trail to the school house.
Mama was glad the driving rain hid her tears. "Pray, baby, pray!"
Maria looked in horror at the twelve foot wall of sea coming across the beach. Her legs somehow found the strength to run, buffeted by the most powerful wind she'd ever encountered, and she reached the lawn of the Spohn Sanitarium, the city hospital, just in time to see their shanty disintegrate in a fusillade of surf. The surge knocked her knees out from under her and she was plunged under the water like a frenzied baptism. She choked in sea water as her knees scraped across what had once been the gravel road two streets behind. No! she thought. No! It will not end like this! I have my family!
She struggled to find footing even as she choked and gagged on the salty water. Her hands grabbed at holds under the water, only to be jabbed and scraped. The pull of the sea was relentless; a suction that seemed to even want to divide bone from marrow. She was being swept out to the sea and couldn't get her feet planted. She saw the doorway of the Spohn Sanitarium in one of the moments her head was above the water and saw there were others who made it to the steps. If only...
(The final installment, Part 3, will be coming soon. Thank you for sticking with this!)
...And yet, even into the night when the heavier rain began, people didn't abandon their feelings of security, although under the ebony, water laden skies, the sea had already begun silent deliveries of an ominous cargo, depositing them onto the beach with the high tide.
The silent deliveries the agitated sea pushed onto the beach that night would have chilled the souls of anyone who had seen them, as well as given stark warning as to what was furiously churning a bulls- eye into Corpus Christi. But no one saw them, not until it was much too late. Wreckage from one of the ships the clandestinely raging hurricane had chewed up and spit out reached land before the storm. Among the splintered wood and ephemeral flotsam were several broken bodies of the sailors of that ship.
Although it was raining, Rosa pressed her nose to the window of their honeymoon suite. It was still early, and the breaking sun was barely visible, but she wanted one last drink of the breathtaking vista. "Look, Rob, isn't is gorgeous, even with the rain?" Rob pulled open the curtain even as he latched his long arm around her tiny waist. His brow furrowed in concern as he took in the the wild frenzy of the distant, wind whipped waves. "What's wrong, honey?" Rosa asked, seeing his concern.
"Don't you worry, my sweet Rosa. I'm going to talk with the manager. That looks like a nasty sea out there. You finish packing and we'll be on our way quickly home," he assured her, his long legs already striding for the door.
Father shouted to M.C. over the gusting wind, even as he slapped the reins, urging the horses on. "Son, we've got to get those newborn calves back up here into the wagon and back into the barn. The rest of the cattle will follow if we can get the calves into the wagon. I really don't like the looks of this storm. This makes me thankful we're inland ten miles. Old Parker, right there so close to the island, is going to have a hard time with this, coming in from the east like it is."
M. C. nodded in agreement as the wagon bumped over the small bridge spanning the river. He pulled his hat down tighter over his head to try and provide a better cover for the rivulets of rain already flowing inside his jacket.
Maria called out, "Be careful, Jose! I don't like you and the kids being out in this storm- This wind is blowing hard and the rain is really picking up!"
"Don't worry, Mama. We'll have that mule picked up in no time. Then, we can go to noon mass together, when this storm lets up. It won't take us long," Jose said over his shoulder to her as he, twelve year old Pablita and ten year old George hustled down the road from their seaside shanty to pick up the mule and get it back into the small stable he'd built for it in the back.
Maria rubbed her belly nervously, not liking the look of the sea or the feel of the stinging rain, slung down from the sky with such force that it felt like small stones. She suspected, but hadn't yet told Jose, that she was pregnant again. She'd lost the last three babies early in those pregnancies, and this was one she wanted with all her heart. She relaxed a little as she thought of her blessings in her hard working man, Jose, who had such big dreams for the future, of Pablita, the shy girl with liquid brown eyes and glossy, braided hair, and of George, who was smarter already than many adults. She prayed and asked God to keep her family in His care.
Rob had only been gone a few minutes when such a blast of wind hit the hotel broadside that the floorboards groaned and the walls shrieked at the strain. Rob burst into the room to find Rosa, suitcase already packed, sitting wide eyed on the bed. "Hurry, darling! It's a hurricane! We must get to higher ground!" The shock rendered Rosa mute, but she held her beloved's hand tightly as he guided her to the stairs.
Already the salt water had erputed across the sand and the storm surge was pushing across the street and into the hotel lobby. Other panicked guests joined them in the flight up the stairs to the top floor. "Hold onto me!" Rob instructed Rosa. "Don't let go, no matter what!" Her small arms wrapped around his waist as he navigated a path for them.
The stairs swayed and then buckled as wind gusts over 110 mph tore through the boards like they were cardboard. Rosa screamed as her arms were torn from their grip on Rob's waist and he disappeared into the maelstrom as the whole front wall of the hotel sheared away in front of them. The swirling water gushed in like a hungry predator.
Father worked to control the team as the winds whipped the wagon back and forth. M. C. held onto the three young calves they had gathered in the back. "Son, we've got to take shelter! This storm is trying to carry us away!" They unhitched the horses and gave them their head while running for an outcropping that could provide some shelter. Each held a calf in one arm and shared the third calf between them. "Father, what about Mama and the girls and little Henry?" M. C. shouted as they reached the outcropping.
"Pray, Son, pray!" was all his undone father could reply.
Back at the house Mama gathered the girls and Henry and while she hitched a horse to the light wagon. "Hurry kids, we've got to try to make it to the schoolhouse! It's on the highest ground and the sturdiest building. We're going to ride fast. I need you to hang on tight! Girls, all of you need to keep a hand on Henry," she instructed even as they forced themselves against the wind into the wagon and she slapped the horse to a gallop.
"Mama, what about Father and M. C.?" her oldest girl shouted as they jolted along the trail to the school house.
Mama was glad the driving rain hid her tears. "Pray, baby, pray!"
Maria looked in horror at the twelve foot wall of sea coming across the beach. Her legs somehow found the strength to run, buffeted by the most powerful wind she'd ever encountered, and she reached the lawn of the Spohn Sanitarium, the city hospital, just in time to see their shanty disintegrate in a fusillade of surf. The surge knocked her knees out from under her and she was plunged under the water like a frenzied baptism. She choked in sea water as her knees scraped across what had once been the gravel road two streets behind. No! she thought. No! It will not end like this! I have my family!
She struggled to find footing even as she choked and gagged on the salty water. Her hands grabbed at holds under the water, only to be jabbed and scraped. The pull of the sea was relentless; a suction that seemed to even want to divide bone from marrow. She was being swept out to the sea and couldn't get her feet planted. She saw the doorway of the Spohn Sanitarium in one of the moments her head was above the water and saw there were others who made it to the steps. If only...
(The final installment, Part 3, will be coming soon. Thank you for sticking with this!)
Thursday, June 28, 2012
A Storm
Morning broke that September Saturday, air pregnant with moisture and as stifling as a woolen blanket wrapped around the lungs. No wind stirred yet on the South Texas coast, making sweat almost immediately ooze and drip down the faces of those who ventured outdoors. Cicadas chirred furiously, agitated by something challenging their innate rhythm.
The post World War I economy smiled on Corpus Christi in 1919, and new wooden homes and buildings dotted the streets that ran to the bayfront and upwards to the 40 foot bluff. That bluff and the barrier islands, Mustang and St. Joe, made the residents feel more protected than their other Gulf counterparts. After all, they had weathered a major hurricane just three years earlier and had come back stronger than ever. They'd heard the reports of a hurricane that was skirting the Florida Keys, but it was far away and no threat to them. This was the last weekend of the summer season and vacationers filled the bayfront hotels, intent on squeezing out every last bit of fun they could.
Robert and Rosa, newlyweds, came to the Pavillion Hotel on the bayfront for their honeymoon. They had this one full day left to enjoy before leaving to return home and begin their new married life tomorrow, Sunday. Rosa shyly looked at Robert as they walked in the sand that morning, barefoot and holding hands. Rosa used one hand to slightly lift the hem of her long skirt to keep it off the sand. "Darling, I can't believe we are actually married now, here on this beautiful beach," she murmured as she leaned her head into his chest.
He stopped, looked down at her and paused for a moment, drinking her in. "You are completely beautiful, Rosa. I must be the luckiest man on earth to have you. I can't wait to start building our family. I think our kids are going to look just like you." He grinned, pulled her close and continued their stroll.
M. C. hustled to finish milking the cows and get them fed. Newly 18 and the eldest son in his family, he shouldered much of the responsibility for the cattle. Father had his hands full with the cotton crop. It looked finally like this would be a prosperous year for them. The last several years had been hard, but Mama's unfailing sunny optimism and Father's unceasing hard work gave him a good feeling about this year. His five younger sisters helped out when they weren't in school and it made him feel good to know there was finally going to be a good year, a year without lack, without going to bed with hungry bellies.
The girls, little brother Hank, and Mama were headed down to North Beach in the wagon to see the Splash Day Festivities that day. A new pirate queen would be crowned and they all had their own opinion about who would win. Then, there was an ice cream social at the school that night. M. C. didn't have time for that kind of frivolity now. "Son, need your help when you finish there," Father called.
"Be right there!" M. C. hollered back.
Maria patted out the last of the tortilla dough into a flattened disc and plopped it onto the comal over the fire in their one room shanty so close to the shoreline she could smell the salt in the air. She was already hot and working over the open fire of the stone fireplace made her even hotter, but she was thankful. Thankful they had escaped the endless violence in Mexico the warring governmental factions wreaked on regular folks like she and her family. Thankful she had her family with her: Jose, her husband; Pablita, their 12 year daughter, and George, their 10 year old son. She and Jose had wonderful dreams, especially for their children. These kids were going to have opportunities in this country they could never have dreamed of in Mexico, opportunties for education and prosperity she and Jose had never had.
She laughed as the kids gobbled down the last of their beans inside their tortillas and Jose wiped the crumbs from his full, dark mustache. "The kids and I are going to go look at a mule I want to buy," he told her. "We'll need it so I can start plowing. Yes, Mama, we're going to have a big farm. We'll start with cotton and raise sheep, too. Even Pablita's going to be helping, right mija?" he chuckled as he gently tugged her braid. The kids chattered as they jumped into the yard and Jose kissed Maria.
The day stretched onward and a cool breeze whispered in from the Gulf. Rain began to fall, gently at first, then with a slowly escalating force. Oddly, flocks of seabirds began hurried flights inland. Horses, cattle, and sheep became jittery. Wild animals left their daytime camoflauge and headed away from the water.
And yet, even into the night when the heavier rain began, people didn't abandon their feelings of security, although under the ebony, water laden skies, the sea had already begun silent deliveries of an ominous cargo, depositing them onto the beach with the high tide.
(This is the first installment of a three part series. It is based on historical record and the accounts of my grandfather and great aunt. If there's interest in it, I'll put up Part 2 soon. And here is Part Two and Part 3.)
The post World War I economy smiled on Corpus Christi in 1919, and new wooden homes and buildings dotted the streets that ran to the bayfront and upwards to the 40 foot bluff. That bluff and the barrier islands, Mustang and St. Joe, made the residents feel more protected than their other Gulf counterparts. After all, they had weathered a major hurricane just three years earlier and had come back stronger than ever. They'd heard the reports of a hurricane that was skirting the Florida Keys, but it was far away and no threat to them. This was the last weekend of the summer season and vacationers filled the bayfront hotels, intent on squeezing out every last bit of fun they could.
Robert and Rosa, newlyweds, came to the Pavillion Hotel on the bayfront for their honeymoon. They had this one full day left to enjoy before leaving to return home and begin their new married life tomorrow, Sunday. Rosa shyly looked at Robert as they walked in the sand that morning, barefoot and holding hands. Rosa used one hand to slightly lift the hem of her long skirt to keep it off the sand. "Darling, I can't believe we are actually married now, here on this beautiful beach," she murmured as she leaned her head into his chest.
He stopped, looked down at her and paused for a moment, drinking her in. "You are completely beautiful, Rosa. I must be the luckiest man on earth to have you. I can't wait to start building our family. I think our kids are going to look just like you." He grinned, pulled her close and continued their stroll.
M. C. hustled to finish milking the cows and get them fed. Newly 18 and the eldest son in his family, he shouldered much of the responsibility for the cattle. Father had his hands full with the cotton crop. It looked finally like this would be a prosperous year for them. The last several years had been hard, but Mama's unfailing sunny optimism and Father's unceasing hard work gave him a good feeling about this year. His five younger sisters helped out when they weren't in school and it made him feel good to know there was finally going to be a good year, a year without lack, without going to bed with hungry bellies.
The girls, little brother Hank, and Mama were headed down to North Beach in the wagon to see the Splash Day Festivities that day. A new pirate queen would be crowned and they all had their own opinion about who would win. Then, there was an ice cream social at the school that night. M. C. didn't have time for that kind of frivolity now. "Son, need your help when you finish there," Father called.
"Be right there!" M. C. hollered back.
Maria patted out the last of the tortilla dough into a flattened disc and plopped it onto the comal over the fire in their one room shanty so close to the shoreline she could smell the salt in the air. She was already hot and working over the open fire of the stone fireplace made her even hotter, but she was thankful. Thankful they had escaped the endless violence in Mexico the warring governmental factions wreaked on regular folks like she and her family. Thankful she had her family with her: Jose, her husband; Pablita, their 12 year daughter, and George, their 10 year old son. She and Jose had wonderful dreams, especially for their children. These kids were going to have opportunities in this country they could never have dreamed of in Mexico, opportunties for education and prosperity she and Jose had never had.
She laughed as the kids gobbled down the last of their beans inside their tortillas and Jose wiped the crumbs from his full, dark mustache. "The kids and I are going to go look at a mule I want to buy," he told her. "We'll need it so I can start plowing. Yes, Mama, we're going to have a big farm. We'll start with cotton and raise sheep, too. Even Pablita's going to be helping, right mija?" he chuckled as he gently tugged her braid. The kids chattered as they jumped into the yard and Jose kissed Maria.
The day stretched onward and a cool breeze whispered in from the Gulf. Rain began to fall, gently at first, then with a slowly escalating force. Oddly, flocks of seabirds began hurried flights inland. Horses, cattle, and sheep became jittery. Wild animals left their daytime camoflauge and headed away from the water.
And yet, even into the night when the heavier rain began, people didn't abandon their feelings of security, although under the ebony, water laden skies, the sea had already begun silent deliveries of an ominous cargo, depositing them onto the beach with the high tide.
(This is the first installment of a three part series. It is based on historical record and the accounts of my grandfather and great aunt. If there's interest in it, I'll put up Part 2 soon. And here is Part Two and Part 3.)
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