Texas as seen through the eye of its hurricanes. 1900, continued.
"It is a time for courage of the highest order: it is a time when men and women show the stuff that is in them..."
Part One: August 19, 1886-September 8, 1900 (first two days)
September 8, 1900 — Galveston, continued
By Monday afternoon, September 10, 1900, Galveston officials had established two sources of clean water. The Galveston brewery had survived the storm unscathed (one Post reporter thought that ironic, since “all but three churches were demolished,” and he included a synagogue among those surviving churches). Along with the local ice plant, the brewery furnished free ice which would quickly become drinking water.
Although Galveston’s water works had not restored service to the city, Galvestonians could trek to the water works plant and haul water themselves. “This was a great relief to the people,” Quarles wrote.
Quarles documented story after story, good after bad, bad after good. John Bonner brought many to safety. Railroad man Rogan joined workers on a construction crew, not knowing whether his family lived or died; when he found “destitute people,” he did all he could to help them. Some with boats refused transportation to those who could not pay, while others made their vessels available to all.
Colonel W.L. Moody placed his family aboard his yacht and spirited them away from the devastation of Galveston. But another wealthy Galvestonian – Mr. Bryan Heard – used his private steamer to take every member of his office staff at McFadden Brothers to safety. Quarles said of Mr. Heard’s employees, “[They] had been bereft of homes and possessions by the storm and had no place to live or be protected by the weather.” McFadden was a cotton export firm. Mr. Heard cared more about his employees than he did about sales they would lose by his action.
One man’s misfortune often turned into another’s fortune. As Mr. Kinsey sought safety for his youngest daughter, his wife and two sons fended for themselves in Texas City. The three family members who had been left behind clung to a cedar tree for seven hours as the winds howled and water rose.
Just as they gave up hope, the roof blew off the house next door. They were injured by flying debris, but they were able to climb on top of that roof until it floated to dry land next to Mr. Cooper’s residence. Mr. Cooper’s home was one of the few in that neighborhood that had not been flattened. That night, and several more to follow, fifty-five people lived in his small house.
Offers of assistance continued to flood Houston and Austin. Clara Barton personally oversaw relief efforts provided by the American Red Cross.
The mayors of Philadelphia, Chicago, San Francisco, and New York asked Governor Sayers what they could do. Indianapolis wired several thousand dollars. New Orleans, Memphis, Kansas City (Missouri), Denver, the Commonwealth of Kentucky, and London (England) all responded by close of business September 11 or early on the 12th. The city of Chicago promised to ship three thousand more tents.
One person commented regarding Galvestonians and those who went there to help, that these were “heroes as great as in war.”
For once, the heroes lauded in news reports were not all white Anglo-Saxon Protestant males. “Colored” men labored alongside white. The wealthy who did not board yachts and head for calmer locales hauled debris side by side with working stiffs. More remarkably, women toiled with their male counterparts, stronger than male observers expected. Female contributions to Galveston’s rebuilding were reported with utmost respect.
After all, as more than one person wrote, the storm had been no respecter of persons. Rich, poor, Black, white, business owner, apprentice, barkeeper, and priest, all had been pummeled by the same ferocious waves. It had hardly mattered whether their homes were rooms in boarding houses or the finest mansion. Most of them had lost their earthly possessions. They had seen one another stripped of clothes and usual modesty by winds they could not have imagined. Their fates had been joined by twelve fear-full hours.
By Wednesday September 12, a few of the trappings of civilization had been restored, even if streets were not navigable because of debris and corpses. The United States Postal Service once again brought mail to Galveston. A person had to go to the main post office to pick it up. It would be weeks before mail delivery was restored. But finally those who lived could jot short notes to family outside the region, and notes and cards from the mainland could make their way to the island.
The next day, water service and telegraph were both fully operational. Of course, one had to have a home to enjoy water service, but these baby steps were psychologically important.
The Houston Daily Post ran more comprehensive lists of people known dead, and those known to have survived. On September 12, the list of survivors was grimly short. Less than seventy-five names graced that register.
Now they began to suspect the terrible truth: As many as 8,000 to 12,000 had perished in the storm. That number would later be confirmed. It was impossible to arrive at a more exact count, since “98 out of 100” bodies could not be identified.
The relief committee soon stopped burying bodies at sea. Decomposition had set in to such a degree that no one could (or would) touch the corpses. Bodies, or pieces of bodies, were thrown on bonfires along with rubble and burned.
And in Galveston, “hello” became a thing of the past. Those days, one greeted friends and neighbors with a heart-felt “I am glad to see you alive,” the short sentiment speaking volumes.
Friday September 14, the mood on the island improved perceptibly. The five trains that had left Chicago and New York days before started to arrive. The trains were off-loaded where the tracks ended, their supplies and personnel transported the rest of the way by grateful boat owners.
Immediately, physicians and nurses from farflung locales set up a makeshift hospital in the city auditorium. The disinfectant they brought with them was put to good use.
General McKibbin filed his report with the War Department in Washington. Still noting that Galveston had yet to officially apply for federal aid, he asked that 20,000 military rations be sent by courier to Galveston, describing the residents as homeless and absolutely destitute. This was not a time to stand on ceremony and quibble over paperwork. It was, he said, “impossible to adequately describe the conditions here.”
It may have been impossible, but reporters tried hard to describe exactly those conditions. If bodies were found that were not disfigured beyond recognition, reporters noted gender, race, clothing (if any), identifying marks, and jewelry, in the hopes that at least some could be identified. Girl, aged 4: hair in curl papers, blue and white gingham dress with small check. Or, Woman, 35 years, one shoe saved.
About one hundred Galvestonians had walked (or swum) the thirteen long and treacherous miles to Hitchcock. They had arrived late Monday afternoon, most nude, not having eaten or drunk for forty-eight hours. Their survival was greeted with great enthusiasm, and the people of Hitchcock rallied around them.
The nation and the world continued to join forces in support of Galveston’s citizens. Louisville, Kentucky sent $10,000. (When thinking about the sums of money in terms of what it would buy today, multiply by about 30. $10,000 therefore is around $300,000.) Atlanta, almost $4000. Nashville, Tennessee; Erie, Pennsylvania; Scott and Houma, Louisiana; Beaumont, Texas; Newark, New Jersey; Liverpool, England – people opened their pocketbooks and prayed for Texans they did not know.
Beaumont also packed up stores of lime and creosote for reconstruction, plus bread, oats, bran, hay, and clothing. Houma sent twelve tubs of oysters (15,000!). The state of Colorado shipped a railcar of mineral water. Scott, Lousiana’s relatively small donation of $10 was accompanied by a note promising as many able-bodied men as Galveston needed. Meyer & Gimble Department Store of New York City sent clothing.
Wells Fargo handled most of the financial transactions, waiving all fees and service charges for wires sent to the relief funds in Austin or Texas, bound for Galveston. American Express matched Wells Fargo’s generosity. Clothing, provisions, money – well, actually anything – bound for Galveston would be shipped free of charge on American Express’ lines.
The Texas & Pacific Railroad stopped charging Galvestonians who left the island for Houston. The War Department overrode General McKibbin’s request and sent 30,000 army rations, along with seven carloads of tents. And the mayor of New York City advised Governor Sayers that he should expect $500,000 by wire — $15 million in 2024 funds — with more money to come.
A country that had been bitterly divided only thirty-five years earlier pulled together as one. There was no North and South, no Yankee blue and Rebel gray. The Galveston hurricane of 1900 did not obliterate the damage done by the civil war. But it provided a very good start.
All this generosity did not mean that the Houston Daily Post would let Washington off the hook on one critical matter, however. On September 14, the Post’s editors ran a scathing article blasting the U.S. Weather Bureau for its poor forecasting. Noting that the predictions of the 7th had called for rain on Saturday with “high northerly winds,” and that on Sunday it would continue to rain, “followed by clearing,” they wrote:
It was indeed ‘clearing’ Sunday, but on such a ruin as no man in this section had ever seen before.
The editors called for the U.S. Weather Bureau to stop devoting so many resources to the East Coast and start looking out for Americans who lived in the Southwest, West, and South.
As if to somewhat offset that harsh critique of the federal government at a time when ‘the Feds’ were doing so much for Galveston, the Post editors also called on the wealthy in Galveston and Houston to pitch in. The region should not rely solely on the generosity of the nation and world.
Among other things, the editors denounced price gouging for materials needed to rebuild Galveston. In a story directed at Butler Brick Works and no other firm, a Post reporter said that a general contractor named Mr. Humphreyville had received a quote of $15 per 1000 brick from the Houston branch of an unnamed brick company, while its Elgin parent company (and that could only be Butler Brick Works) asked $10 per 1000 brick. The Post ran the story based on Mr. Humphreyville’s statement, without verifying his information. I am glad I was not sitting next to my great-grandfather when he read that story in the newspaper!
Similarly, in an editorial entitled The Wisest Kind of Charity, the Post asked Houston businessmen to take money out of their vaults – and use it to build factories and hire those who had been displaced by the storm. They correctly recognized that investment in the local infrastructure and local economy would jump-start reconstruction in ways that relief committees across the world could not. Outside money was needed, of course, to provide food and shelter in the interim. People with capital (the Post editors felt) should provide the funds for long-term growth.
But the editors took great care to assure the nation of gratitude for the money that would not stop flowing in. “If the desolation here has been awful, the sympathy and humanity of a great Nation has been ample, and very soon the local committees will be enabled to assist the destitute thousands.”
The “local committees” did exactly that. The best of human nature surfaced. There were few reports of cronyism, or of wealthy citizens receiving aid while their poorer neighbors languished. If anything, the relief committees in Galveston and Houston seemed intent on forcing those whose capital had not been lost to pay their own way, so the middle class and the poor could receive adequate assistance.
The “no alcohol” rule of September 11 was now relaxed. Those who buried the dead got free whiskey. Free coffee and free shoes were handed out to all. Local merchants turned food and necessities over to survivors in their neighborhoods. The Galveston relief committee ensured that no one went hungry. They issued ration cards so citizens could obtain supplies, at no cost.
Although the relief committee recognized that they needed strong arms and hands to clear and rebuild the city, they also knew that most survivors were incapable of that sort of work. They worked out a deal with the railroads, allowing Galvestonians to head to Houston. If they could afford to pay the ticket (which cost on average $2.50, $75 in today’s dollars), they were instructed to do so. But no one was to be denied.
On Friday September 14, the Post summed up the previous week with these eloquent words:
It is a time for courage of the highest order: it is a time when men and women show the stuff that is in them, and we can make no loftier acknowledgment of the material sympathy which the world is extending to us than to answer back that after we shall have buried our dead and relieved the sufferings of the sick and destitute, we will bravely undertake the vast work of restoration and recuperation which lies before us in a manner which shall convince the world that we have spirit to overcome misfortune and rebuild our homes. In this way we shall prove ourselves worthy of the boundless tenderness which is being showered upon us in the hour of desolation and sorrow.
That “boundless tenderness” did not end with one-time gifts. Exactly one week after the hurricane hit Galveston, New York banks agreed to “extend credits and lend financial assistance to [the] desolated city.”
And the War Department adopted a project that had long been dear to Houstonians (over the objections of their neighbors in Galveston). The utter destruction of the barrier island had convinced the War Department that a port in Galveston was not such a good idea after all. The inland port that had been proposed and rejected, dredging Buffalo Bayou and making Houston the shipping center of the Gulf Coast, would now become a reality.
In news that had to have warmed the hearts of Houston’s business community, the War Department announced that $4 million [$120 million] had been allocated to this undertaking. Work would commence immediately.
With donations pouring in from all over the world, by September 15 Houstonians decided they should have a relief fund for “storm sufferers” too. Over the next couple of weeks, the Houston Daily Post listed all contributors to the fund, from Charles P. Schultz’s $5 to an anonymous donation from Hempstead in the amount of $1. Fayetteville Sängerbund contributed $58.45, Clede & Koenig $15. Interestingly, donations from outside the region flowed into the coffers of the Houston relief fund. Merchant & Company of Philadelphia sent $50; W.W. Manning of Delamar, Nevada wired $25.
Sunday September 16, the Post ran a paid advertisement from Butler Brick Works, responding to the price gouging charges leveled against it.
TO THE PUBLIC. The price of Butler’s brick has not been advanced as a matter of speculation, but has been raised on account of excessive losses sustained by reason of the late storm, the actual damage to us being in excess of $3000, and in addition thereto, out of 750,000 brick, we have succeeded in saving only 150,000 brick, which is our entire present stock.
In 1900, those losses to Butler Brick Works were not subsidized by insurance. Articles in the Houston Daily Post revealed that only $10,000 or so in insurance claims would be paid out to businesses and homeowners in Galveston. Insurance companies insisted that people had not had “proper” insurance. Reporters (and most likely, Galvestonians) believed that claims were not properly settled.
The flooding that destroyed 600,000 brick would have reinforced my great-grandfather’s resolve to move his family to higher, dryer ground. Life on the north side of Buffalo Bayou was too risky.
One thing about that paid advertisement seems odd, however. It was not signed by my great-grandfather Martin Sachs, General Manager of Butler Brick Works. The name under Butler Brick Works read “H.P. McLaughlin, Manager.”
But McLaughlin was not general manager of Butler Brick Works, not even a manager. He was a broker of building supplies, including but not limited to brick. He represented not just Butler bricks, but other brickyards as well. It had only been one day earlier when his name appeared on an ad for a different product.
There are no clues to the reasoning behind McLaughlin’s name on a Butler ad. Was he a paid consultant for the company, their spokesman? My great-grandfather’s poor English language skills never allowed him to assume public roles in Houston’s civic life. It is difficult to know, over one hundred years later. The only thing that can be safely assumed: Butler Brick Works’ losses during the hurricane were substantial.
And not just Butler Brick Works. Farmers had lost crops. Cotton may have gotten the most press, but the hurricane had wiped out the fruits, flowers, and vegetables that were to take center stage at the No-Tsu-Oh festival, scheduled for November.
On September 23, 1900, the Post announced that the storm would merely delay, not cancel, the year’s festivities. Now on the calendar for December, farmers would have plenty of time to re-plant and harvest. The Houston Business League stated that the hurricane had strengthened their resolve to make this year’s event bigger and better than the one in 1899.
(Continued tomorrow…)
Part Three: April 18, 1906 - May 1910 (includes how Texas responded to hurricanes in Louisiana and Florida, and to the earthquake in San Francisco)
Excerpted from One Family’s Houston, © 2012, 2024 Denise Elaine Heap. Please message me for permission to quote. And of course, please feel free to share!
My sources: Diary of my great-grandfather. Grandmother’s memories. Accounts of the Galveston hurricane as related in September 1900 by the Houston Post, New York Times, and other major news outlets. (Thanks to newspapers.com for such a valuable resource — started in Texas by University of North Texas in the early 2000s, carried on by Ancestry.)
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