The Blizzard of '78

Well, in a way, this is kind of a dangerous post. I mean, the more astute of you will put pencil to paper and one of my most closely-guarded non-secrets will be exposed. But, in the interest of responsible journalism, that is a risk I have decided to accept.

I will spare you the details of the infamous blizzard. Most likely you were either there or you have heard about it. The executive summary is that on the morning of January 26, 1978 it started to snow . And it just never stopped. Estimates of the snowfall range from 36 inches to 42 inches. I have heard that the storm produced one of the lowest barometric pressures ever recorded in these parts. Some say it was like a mid-winter, inland hurricane. What follows is an account of how I rode out the storm.

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The Blizzard of ’78 brought both bad news and good news for me. The bad news is that, like so many others, I was stuck at work for several days. How many days, I cannot remember. I suspect that thirty years blurs some parts of everyone’s memory. But I know it was at least three days and maybe as many as four or five. The good news is that at the time I was managing a motel, the old Howard Johnson on the corner of Cleveland Rd and then US 31 on the space presently occupied by the Comfort Suites. If one had to be snowed in at work they would be hard-pressed to find a better place to be marooned. I had a bed, a hot shower, a color TV and a restaurant and bar were right next door.

A grand total of five employees managed to make it in the day that the snow started falling. Actually, I think two of us – the night auditor and I – were simply unable to leave, but the net effect was the same. As luck would have it, three of us were able to run the front desk, and so we took turns in the office on 8-hour shifts. In addition, two high school boys who lived nearby swam through the chest-high drifts to come in as well. They kept the laundry going and performed whatever menial tasks had to be done. About the second day, one of them braved the drifts to reach a drug store in the North Village Mall where he bought toothbrushes and shaving supplies and whatever else we absolutely needed that we could not find in our storerooms. (In the spirit of hospitality, the young man informed the girl at the register that there would be a party in his room at the motel later that evening and that she was invited. She nearly accepted, but when she asked who would be there, he replied, "So far, just you.")

Needless to say, the guests staying at the motel were also unable to leave. Amazingly, they were very good sports about the hardships. The weather definitely brought out the best in them and in us. We were unable to provide maid service, but we did manage to keep them stocked with clean towels, soap and other basic necessities. A pot of coffee perked around the clock in our office, and several of our guests sat in the lobby drinking coffee and passing the time. About the third day, some of them even decided to try to dig out despite the fact that there was nowhere to go even if they did manage to escape the parking lot. We gave them what shovels we had and they gladly we nt to work. However, that operation was suspended when one of them hit something hard while digging only to discover that he was standing on top of a compact car that had been completely buried by the blizzard.

The snow on US 31 was completely impassable. Only snowmobiles and skiers were able to negotiate the depth of the snow. There were no 4-wheel drives and no plows. Just snow. Word got out that the Ramada Inn across the street had opened up a huge buffet at a very low price. My memory is failing me once again here, but it may have even been free. I am not sure about that. Because Ramada Inn was a larger and much busier place than Howard Johnson, they had a substantial inventory of food that was in danger of spoiling. They decided that virtually giving it away was preferable to simply t hrowing it out. I do know that some of us, traveling in teams as if on an Alpine adventure, made the long slow journey across the street to take advantage of their generous offer.

Finally, like the ever-repeating day in the movie “Groundhog Day,” it just ended. The snow stopped, plows cleared parts of 31, people found their cars, others trickled back to work and life eventually returned to near normal. The blizzard was over, but the legend had just begun.