March is a time to look forward to the upcoming change of season, and New Yorkers were very much in the spirit over the weekend of March 10th and 11th, enjoying the balmy weather and cheerful air of the city. The Barnum and Bailey circus had come back to Madison Square Garden and hosted a torch-lit parade, the theaters and dance-halls were packed, and folks went to the concert decked out in all their finery. Few, if any, had much indication that The Great White Hurricane would soon arrive and cause immense destruction in New York, Brooklyn, and beyond.
A train stranded on the Park Avenue viaduct, with several others behind it. They were not able to reach Grand Central Depot, as the rescue engines couldn’t make it through the snow. To the right is one of the tremendous snow drifts that could be seen across New York, formed by the immense winds. Thousands of men would be hired to shovel the snow around the city over the next few days. From Scientific American, March 24, 1888, Volume 58, Number 12.
The storm arrived after what had been another rather pleasant day. Local newspapers foresaw clear, warmer weather for the next day, eventually giving way to some rain. The New York Tribune looked forward to the upcoming baseball season, while the Brooklyn Daily Eagle admonished its city’s officers for neglecting the dirty streets, noting that “they have [had] a very liberal winter vacation.” The Sun reported that the weather station, then located on top of the seven story Equitable Building, predicted “fresh to brisk, southeasterly winds, slightly warmer, fair weather, followed by rain” for the next day.
The Equitable Life Insurance Company Building (top), located on Broadway between Pine and Cedar Streets. The U.S. Weather Bureau observation station was moved here in 1871 (bottom). From King’s Handbook of New York City, published by Moses King, 1893.
An 1891 U.S. Weather Bureau map showing conditions during the Blizzard of 1888. The high and low pressure systems collided and remained in the area for several days, creating the ideal conditions for a blizzard: snow, wind, and freezing temperatures. From The Engineering Magazine, Volume 1, Number 6, September 1891.
It began raining that evening, light at first, then turning into a downpour that was accompanied by severe wind gusts. The temperature plummeted in the early hours of the morning of March 12th, causing the streets to slick over with ice. Thick, heavy snow began to fall, and the increasingly powerful wind gusts deposited it into lofty snowdrifts. Intrepid folks who went outside were met with near white-out conditions and bitter cold, and upon trying to navigate the streets were blown into them, knocked into each other, or hurled into the growing snow banks.
The perils of trying to make it through Union Square. Hats, veils, scarves, mittens, purses, and other accessories were apt to be torn from each person. From Harper’s Weekly, March 17. 1888, Volume 32, Issue 1631
The chaotic scene in the thick of the blizzard at the junction of 5th Avenue, Broadway, and 23rd Street. The wind was well known to whirl around the “cowcatcher” building (later site of the eponymous Flatiron Building) even during fair-weather days. This view gives a good sense of the confusion of trying to make one’s way through a tremendous storm. From The Engineering Magazine, Volume 1, Number 6, September 1891.
A photograph taken on 14th Street during a lull in the storm. The flakes are thick, and the snow drifts are quickly growing. From New York Illustrated, 1900.
During the morning hours, the elevated lines continued to run sporadically, but the rails were slick with ice and switches frozen into place, slowing progress along the lines. In order to overcome the grades between stations, some trains ran with two engines. On the 3rd Avenue elevated one such train rear-ended another, killing an engineer, injuring several passengers, and causing even more delays. By 1 o’clock in the afternoon, trains stopped running altogether on the Manhattan elevated lines, leaving countless passengers stranded. Intrepid rescuers used extra long ladders or lashed two together so folks could climb down, although some charged for the “rescue.”
Scenes showing ladder rescues. Some folks genuinely helped those who were stranded, while others did so for a price. From Harper’s Weekly, March 17. 1888, Volume 32, Issue 1631 (top), and Scientific American, March 24, 1888, Volume 58, Number 12 (bottom).
Only one early morning express train was able to approach Grand Central Depot, although it got stuck in the snow at 59th Street and required the assistance of a rescue engine. The open-air yard was soon buried in the drifts, and engines couldn’t make it to the other trains. 30 trains were stranded between 110th Street and Riverdale, and passengers were faced with a decision about whether to take their chances and try to reach their destination on foot, or stay inside. Such decisions would become a matter of life or death, as anyone who left ran the risk of freezing to death.
Trains stranded at the entrance to the Yorkville Tunnel. They were backed up beyond Spuyten Duyvil. From Scientific American, March 24, 1888, Volume 58, Number 12.
Ferry boats operated on half hour headways but the ice-choked waters in the Hudson and East Rivers and the low visibility prompted captains to cut service back. Those boats that ran had to do so slowly, in order to avoid collisions, although several happened anyway. If the captains could guide the ferry to the correct slips without being blown off course, they found them blocked by ice, and workers had to climb the ice with ropes and pull the boats in. By the end of the day, ferries across the Hudson stopped operating, and those on the East River eventually followed suit when the ice floes began piling up. Some adventurers would go on to cross the ice bridge, as there had been others in recent memory, but this one was unstable and prone to breaking, resulting in people needing to be rescued by tugboats.
People crossing the East River on a shaky ice bridge. The river would occasionally freeze over during particularly cold winters, but this ice was unstable and broke apart. From Harper’s Weekly, March 17. 1888, Volume 32, Issue 1631.
As conditions worsened, vehicles were abandoned in the streets, with carriages, wagons, cabs, and even streetcars left behind as people struggled to save their animals and themselves. Other obstructions made travel even more hazardous, as the winds whipping through the streets carried away signs, sidewalk awnings, and fences, some of which smashed into storefront windows and caused immense damage. The weight of the heavy snow dismantled iron balustrades, caused smokestacks to crumble, and pulled down nearly half of the city’s telegraph poles. It was reported that the gale-force winds pulled off entire roofs, and rumors circulated that the Brooklyn Bridge might collapse. With the night approaching, the cities remained dark, as gas street lamps couldn’t be lit, and electric lights failed.
Downed telegraph poles, which were dangerous and could easily pull down others as they were weighed with more snow and ice. From Valentine’s Manual of Old New York, edited by Henry Collins Brown, 1927.
When the next day dawned, New York and Brooklyn were at a standstill. Telegraph operations had ceased with the toppling of the poles, and any letters that were dispatched would be received many days later. Those who could afford to do so took rooms at hotels, holed up in saloons, or even spent a night or two in their offices, ferry-houses, train stations, or corner groceries. Food and fuel became increasingly scarce and sold at a premium, with people charging double, triple, or quadruple prices for goods. However, there were many cases of friendly New Yorkers opening their homes and cooking for those who had been stranded in the blizzard, offering them sandwiches, sausages, and coffee.
Notices to dismayed passengers informing them that trains were no longer running. Many elected to sleep in the train stations. From Valentine’s Manual of Old New York, edited by Henry Collins Brown, 1927.
It took several days for folks to start digging out from the storm, as it was virtually pointless to do so before that given the ferocity of the wind, which would just blow the snow and debris back. Although the average snowfall was around 21 inches, the biggest problems were the bitter temperatures and the towering snowdrifts, some of which were 15 or 20 feet high and reached to the second story of buildings. Hundreds of workers, many of them immigrants, were hired by the mainline and elevated railroads, horsecar companies, and the city to clear the lines, streets, and sidewalks. The snow was so thick in places that instead of shovels they used pickaxes and sledgehammers.
Laborers digging out behind Grand Central Depot. The first of the stranded trains reached the depot on Wednesday night, thanks to the efforts of these laborers and the railroaders operating rescue trains. From The Great Blizzard of 1888 by Samuel Meredith Strong.
The size of some of the snow drifts on Madison Avenue near 46th Street, looking south. From The New Metropolis: Memorable events of three centuries, 1600-1900, edited by E. Idell Zeisloft.
The scene along 3rd Avenue in the aftermath of the storm. From Fifty years on New York Steam Service: The Story of the Founding and Development of a Public Utility by the New York Steam Corporation, 1932.
With the drifts being picked apart and starting to slowly melt (some business owners built bonfires in the drifts to get rid of both the snow and the accumulated debris), the enormity of the destruction became clear. An estimated 200 people lost their lives in New York, with even more perishing in the tri-state area and New England, which was also ravaged by the storm. Reports of people frozen to death took over the newspapers, and others died from complications sustained while trying to fight through the storm (as happened to the colorful former politician Roscoe Conkling). The storm caused upwards of $20-$25 million in property damages, with countless losses of animals, livelihoods, investments and the like.
West 11th Street after the storm, showing some of the destruction, with awnings torn from the fronts of buildings. From Appleton’s Annual Cyclopedia and Register of Important Events, for the Year 1888.
The Blizzard of 1888 was an immensely memorable event, to the degree that in 1929 survivors formed a club, “The Blizzard Men of ‘88,” getting together to share their memories of the storm (women were allowed to participate within several years). The toppling of so many telegraph, electrical, and other lines prompted city officials to discuss how to address this, resulting in an ordinance requiring companies to put these utilities underground. This may have also hastened the decision to discuss adding an additional mode of transportation that could operate in all weather conditions, and 16 years later the first subway in New York City opened.
Some people dug out a tunnel in a snowdrift on 14th Street, sticking a hand-painted sign on top that says “This Way to Canada.” One cannot say that New Yorkers don’t have a sense of humor about things. King’s Handbook of New York City, published by Moses King, 1893