Hurricane Earl

Hurricane Earl.

And so Hurricane Earl marches up the eastern seaboard toward my younger brother near Boston.
It reminds me of Hurricane Carol in late August of 1954; it’s following more-or-less the same path.
Out to sea, but brushing the coast. (I guess Hurricane Carol also hit Long Island and New England.)
Our family was staying at my uncle’s cottage in Ship Bottom on Long Beach Island in the south Jersey seashore.
Our family and my paternal grandparents.
My younger brother Tommy had died of leukemia in January of 1953. He hadn’t even made age four.
The uncle was my father’s younger brother.
The cottage was rather rudimentary; no heat, and no cellar.
It was on cinder-block pilings.
But it did have running water.
What I remember most was its living-room was finished in knotty-pine, not plaster.
And the ceilings were sponged plaster.
1954 was before wallboard.
It also had no air-conditioning. You had to open windows.
No lawn either; it was sandy orange gravel.
If ya had a lawn, ya hadda sprinkle it.
The cottage was about 4-5 blocks from the ocean-beach, and less than a block from the bay.
The vast bay, also salt-water, separated the island (a barrier island) from the mainland.
The hurricane struck with fury, even though 100 miles offshore.
It wasn’t serious enough to evacuate, but I will never forget it.
The wind was a-howling (80+ mph), and rain was lashing us.
My mother piled us kids into our humble ’41 Chevy; we were going to the beach.
In 1954 I woulda been age 10.
The beach was normally 150-200 feet wide, breakwalls to ocean, with about a 20 foot rise.
200 feet is two-thirds the length of a football grid.
The windshield-wipers on our ’41 were utterly swamped. No way could they keep up with the torrent.
And that was back when wipers were vacuum-powered; not electric, like they are now.
We managed to get up to the beach, and the ocean was clear up to the breakwalls.
Huge waves were crashing where we usually sunbathed.
Storm-surge, I guess.
My mother had brought along a flimsy cotton bedspread, and wrapped it around herself.
She got out of the car, and got deluged; I don’t think we ever got out.
The wind wanted to slam the door.
After the storm passed, we walked down the street to the bay.
Boats were tossed topsy-turvy, even some up in the street.
Our cat had survived outside by climbing up between the floor-stringers of the cottage.
I will never forget it; and that was 100 miles offshore.

• A ’41 Chevy in 1954 seems a bit crazy, but it was a really nice car in excellent shape. I think my parents had purchased a used ’53 Chevy with only 5,000 miles earlier that summer.
• The “breakwalls” were where the beach ended. They separated the beach from the houses and streets behind. They were usually made of old railroad ties (back then).
• Windshield-wipers were previously powered by engine manifold vacuum, but began using electric motors as an option during the middle ‘50s.