“Door County Ladies in Hurricane” and “Writes of Horrors of Storm on Island” from the 1928 Door County News and Door County Advocate
[from the September 20, 1928 Door County News]
Door County Ladies in Hurricane
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STORM STRIKES PORTO RICO; OVER THOUSAND DEAD
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Mr. and Mrs. Ed Bebeau Await Word from Daughters
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With no word from their two daughters at San Juan, Porto Rico, since the hurricane on Thursday in which 700,000 were left homeless in the wake of the storm and the dead will reached 1,000, it is believed, Mr. and Mrs. Ed Bebeau, of Sawyer, have expressed fear for their daughters’ safety.
Mr. and Mrs. J. C. Blanco, the former who is superintendent of education on the island, and Miss Natalie Bebeau, instructor, visited here during the past summer and returned but recently, landing at Porto Rico on August 27.
Mrs. Bebeau sent a cablegram to them on Saturday but up until yesterday had received no reply. On Tuesday she wired officials at Washington, D. C., but in reply the government officials stated that they were not in a position to receive any information of individuals as yet. It is stated that there are seven cables to the island and it requires but two to three hours to reach them in this manner, under ordinary conditions. It has been customary for the Door county ladies to wire their parents several times a year. It is probable, however, that the government has taken over the cables which prohibits them from sending word in this manner.
Crops were completely wiped out it is stated. Both the coffee and citrus fruit crops, which would have provided a $15,000,000 income during the dead season, between the sugar crops, during the next four months, is practically a total loss.
Local Chapter to Help.
The American National Red Cross has made an initial donation from national funds of $50,000 to aid the sufferers. One-half of the local fund at the end of each campaign is sent to headquarters. In addition to this however, the local chapter of Red Cross plans to further aid and anyone wishing to send donations may leave them with Chairman Miss Clara Egan at the Chamber of Commerce or Miss Vera Miles, treasurer of the chapter in this county at the Sturgeon Bay News Stand.
Wednesday morning Mrs. Egan received a more urgent call for aid. The telegram follows:
St. Louis, Mo.,
Sept. 18, 1928
Mrs. T. A. Egan:
Chairman Door County Chapter
Red Cross,
Sturgeon Bay, Wis.
Latest reports West Indies, Florida hurricane confirm demand for extra ordinary relief measure. Pres. Coolidge proclaims call for generous contribution to relief fund for all areas affected. Clearly evident Red Cross faces serious responsibility with relief needs exceeding Florida hurricane disaster nineteen twenty-six. Therefore suggested one hundred dollars goal for your chapter.
Wm. M. Baxter, Jr.
The storm’s damage is estimated at over one hundred million dollars. Three hundred thousand are in need of food. According to officials it will no doubt be weeks before an actual record of the dead can be made.
It is thought that the Bebeau girls were the only two from Door county on the island at the time of the storm.
[from the September 28, 1928 Door County Advocate]
WRITES OF HORRORS OF STORM ON ISLAND
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Letter of 14th Reaches Here Tuesday Night
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After ten days of anxious waiting, Mrs. Ed Bebeau of Sawyer received a cablegram Tuesday morning from Porto Rico from her daughter, Mrs. J. P. Blanco, saying, “All safe. Love, Leah.”
Mrs. Blanco and sister, Natalie, who is teaching on the insular possession, thus survived the hurricane, together with Mr. Blanco, and are none the worse for their experience except for considerable damage to their property.
A letter written September 14, the third day of a continuous storm which made day almost as black as night and kept everyone from venturing out for fear of their lives, arrived here from Natalie Bebeau Tuesday night, long delayed by lack of mail boat service. It gives probably the most vivid description of the storm ever made available and only lacks statements as to the loss of life because the writer was still indoors waiting for the storm to abate completely. The letter written to Mrs. Bebeau follows:
Porto Rico, Friday p. m.
September 14, 1928.
Dearest Mother, and All:
Don’t know how to begin or how to end this awful story of the last three days. But most important, we are alive and well—only have bad colds, etc.
By rights our house is only half here—as roof—well, there’s an excuse of one left. The report circulated from Weather Bureau that Sept. 12—a hurricane would strike—that everybody should be prepared was at school when it started But how can one prepare against a hurricane?
It began to blow terribly at 7:00 o’clock and soon all lights were out. We had candles though — pitch black outdoors and the wind began to tear at things. All night I prayed while it stormed and hit things helter skelter. At 8 o’clock a. m. it still was dark, but we all got up and managed a breakfast. You couldn’t see anything outside save leaves, sticks, and debris being hurled every which way. At 10 a. m. it developed such force that it snapped roofs off and hurled them before our eyes. The house next to us on the corner was ripped here and there, big holes all over. Then the trees. We would sit or stand praying that our trees would not be taken. But as we’d watch, a palm tree, full grown, would blow over like a feather and fall on a house; tree after tree fell with a terrible crash—big and little. Our favorite palm didn’t stand it long. Then our cute flowering pair of trees in the front blew over onto our porch. Next went our beautiful purple vines that covered an entire side of the house. Not a stalk remaining. Next our pink vines on the west side torn to shreds and blown away. Then our own roof began. The strips were torn off like nothing and away they’d fly down the street. Tin plates from all houses landed in strange places, eaves, sticks, anything blew in thru the shutters and under cracks of doors, until we felt like babes in the woods. And all the hours from early morn till 7 o’clock last night, things continued flying and being torn away. Cars on streets ripped tops off.
Then the flood began! Our roof being torn, like many others, the water flooded in every room save Leah’s bedroom and my own—otherwise, every room flooded. Hurriedly getting pails, dishes and drain pipes we made a drain in the dining room and sitting room—but nothing could stop it. A miracle only saved our two rooms. Leah’s new dining set is completely white—ruined; her other furniture is all soaked, ruined beyond repair. Curtains—every thing—is ruined, save our beds and trunks and clothing.
The storm gaining violence hour after hour lasted from 7 o’clock Wednesday night until THIS MORNING at 11 o’clock (Friday). At 2 o’clock this p. m. it was still raining in torrents, but the crisis had passed and we have dried all floors successfully within the last hour.
None dared leave their houses, for fear of being blown to the moon. Jack left for the city to get provisions and look after his business at 3 o’clock this afternoon (got more candles); so am anxious to hear of the damages done.
Our section is the saddest thing to see. Muramar used to be a beautiful suburb but now there are perhaps a half-dozen trees remaining.
They say the sea section got caught bad, washing out houses also a school ruined (not mine tho). Tomorrow we’ll take the car and try to get through to see. All telephone and electric wires are broken and down. One can hear the hammers agoing full swing at every house now while there is a lull In the storm. Sky is still dark and sun hasn’t come out yet, so we may be in for more rain tonight. They can’t fix our house until about Monday.
We sent our one maid home the first day and she has just returned now.
Everybody seems to be moving into friends’ homes. Funny sight to see, furniture lugged in a hurry here and there.
You can’t begin to imagine our fears when that hurricane was raging. I couldn’t cry—I was too stunned.
Two ships broke away, one went on reefs, perhaps you may hear of it through cables sent to U. S. by now. The ship was to leave yesterday, but haven’t left yet. Was no possible way of getting a letter off to you before—no mail carriers appeared, no milk men, no ice men, no grocery men—and we couldn’t get out. You’ll be getting this SOMETIME, though, that is certain. Last night, I wouldn’t have dared make that last statement.
Remember Lorraine, Ohio, a few years back? Well, guess at a city of 12,000 then and then at the entire island.
Will write you more when we get exact reports from all around. The sun came out and it’s 5:30—a welcome sight after these three days! We’ve been eating in beds, and all living in our two bedrooms.
Queer thing—there would be calm of perhaps 2 minutes, then in a swoop there would be ades. We’ve been living on canned soup, sardines and crackers. Leah is alright but we all have colds. I only reported one-half day at school this whole week. It’s COLD—wore my coat all yesterday and today in house.
Well, dears, so long until I can write a decent letter with better news. We thank God he saved us.
Airplanes are circling above, perhaps to get view of damaged places. God help the poor, is what we all say now. Love,
NATALIE.
Both are courtesy of the Door County Library Newspaper Archive
[“ades” could be an idiom, possibly misspelled, but I am uncertain. The version of the letter printed in the Door County News omits the sentence where it occurs:
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