by Edward Ellis, Special Correspondent
When I was a kid, I loved hurricanes. Of course, I didn’t own property or pay for insurance then. But school was out. The fathers were off work. And everyone was excited. Focused. Busy. Toys and porch furniture had to be stowed. Men all over town made masking tape Xs on all windowpanes not covered with plywood. Women drew up water in everything, including bathtubs, and planned no-electricity meals. Saltine crackers, peanut butter, and Vienna sausages were in demand.
We waited for radio updates from WHIT-1450 AM. My father dutifully plotted the lat-long track in pencil on Atlantic Coast grid maps clipped from the Sun-Journal. That was like science and math combined.
New Bern experienced storms in 1952, 1954, three in 1955, one in 1958, and, finally, in 1960. 1954 was the legendary Hazel. One of my earliest memories is watching with my dad as men cut up huge fallen oaks to clear Pollock Street near the brand-new Tryon Palace restoration. Chain saws! Axes!
My most vivid memory, though, was Hurricane Donna. The strong Category 2 storm’s eye intersected New Bern in September 1960. Donna first headed into the Gulf of Mexico and raked Florida’s west coast before – Surprise! – crossing the state and roaring back into the Atlantic Ocean.
Donna screamed and shook us for hours. Water blew around window frames. Mom battled it with bath towels. During the eye, we went outside into the calm. A huge weeping willow she’d planted was down. It had been as tall as the house. My dad comforted her by suggesting that it might be winched upright. Even at ten, I doubted that. After the eye, the winds blew from the opposite direction. The willow lifted miraculously to its natural position … but was then broken in the other direction.
The day after was gorgeous. The power and water were out, though, and the ground was covered with roof shingles. Our roof was damaged, and the ceiling collapsed in one bedroom. The Neuse River was blown into downtown by one side of the storm and blown nearly empty by the other. It would take days to refill. Cliffs were eroded into the shore below town.
It was quiet after that until Bertha and Fran in 1996. By then, I was paying for insurance. So, not as much fun.