And The Name of the Wind Was CAROL

It is 1954, in August, I believe…
mid hurricane season. . We are
expecting a hurricane. And I am 14.
What do I know about hurricanes????…
all I know is they have a heck of a
wind and rain storms. And of course
there are the stories each time,
of THE BIG ONE… meaning 1938.
That was before they gave hurricane’s
names. And it really was a big one.
It flooded Providence to the first floor
of some of their big buildings. The
Atlantic Ocean just flowed up the
Narraganset Bay and into downtown
Providence.

Years later they built gates up by
Providence…Hurricane gates.
After I left I believe. So that doesn’t
happen anymore. I wonder if they
ever had to close them? I think after
I left they had a few good ones in the
1980’s. We, old time Newport County
people were wishing they would have
one huge hurricane and take down all
the waterfront condos that were
allowed to be built. We knew if there
ever was a really big one of the 1938
strength, that those condos would be
gone. And we could walk the water
front again. As we did as children…
but it never has happen.

But this is 1954, and my mother has
woke me up early. Hurry, feed the
horses and come with me, she says, as
she is throwing things into the pick
up truck. . We jump into the old
1948 Ford pickup and start heading
for Newport, the town near us. We
lived in Middletown. We had a boat
tied up at the docks of Newport.
Mom was afraid it wasn’t tied down
well enough and we could loose her.
The MaryJo. She was 26 feet long.
She was an old lobster boat. But she
was lots of fun for us. Fishing, swimming,
and just riding around the islands.
Dad worked for the government at
Quonset Point, and he was there
battening down the hatches on the base.

So we headed down Broadway, but the
traffic was getting bad so Mom decided
to take one of the back roads. As we
are driving down, the wind is whipping
around us. The rain is so hard it is hard
for the wipers to keep up. Then we heard
a loud bang and the ground shook, but
Mom kept driving. I looked out the back
window and a saw the loud noise was
from a huge tree that fell across the road.
Well, we have to keep going now… we
can’t turn around. She cut across the
town and trees are falling across the
streets and along side of the streets on
the sidewalks. We make it down the wharf,
where the MaryJo is. We park to the side,
and run down the dock with rope. I
jumped down to the first boat, and hold
it against the dock so Mom can climb
down. We pulled the MaryJo over to us.
And then boarded her. Throwing out
ropes and anchors as far away from the
docks as we can. We anchored her down
4 different ways. By this time the water
is raising. And some of the other boats
are coming close but not knocking on her.
Satisfied that we had her secured, we
ran and jumped on the boat near her as
it came back around to us. Then pulling
that boat to the dock we stepped off on
to the dock as the boats were almost level
with the docks.

Debris was flying every where from the
top of the buildings. We ran to the
pickup and back up to the street between
the 3 story buildings. Hiding next to
them. We sat there for an hour. Watching
the debris flying everywhere. Pieces of
the roofs, objects that once were laying
on the docks were flying like kites around.
We watched as 77 year old, Ernest
Coggeshall stayed with his 109 foot fishing
boat. He was of the old standard where
the Captain went down with the ship. His
son Ernie, had arrived as we were backing
in next to the building. So he sat with us,
and watched his father. It was too late to
join him, the wharf was under water. We
watch boats that broke loose from the moorage,
that sail by. Bobbing like a fishing bopper in
the rough waters. All of them went by the
end of the dock. Luckily never coming to
the harbor part, near the dock, as they surely
would have broken the boats tied there. The
howling was so loud it was hard to hear
each other talk. So we sat in silence a good
share of the time.

And then as quickly as it came, it left.
One minute such howling, so much wind,
things were flying sideways, rain is
going sideways… and then SILENCE…
almost too quiet.

We got out to check the damage.
The water started to go down. Still high,
but at least you could walk the wharf.
Ernie walked down to go out on the tip
to see if he could join his father. Ernest
brought the Viking along side, and threw
the ropes to Ernie. So he could tie the
boat back to the dock. On the next wharves
was a sailboat stuck with a piling up
thru the middle and the water leaving it
up high and dry.

Mom and I drove home to the farm going
around cut trees. And as I went around
picking up wind blown objects in the yard.
My brother went back with her to the dock
so they could check on the MaryJo.

There was a lot of damages. I don’t
remember there being a FEMA at that time.
I know we didn’t get any money to fix the
roof on the barn and the house. Dad just did it.
And help the neighbors with theirs.