It is the benchmark of all storms. The Blizzard of ’78. Tales of the storm are passed from generation to generation of New Englanders, and this week marks its 35th anniversary.
The Blizzard of ’78 was a unique storm that battered New England for 36 hours. Its duration, combined with its monster intensity, is really what makes the storm so rare.
The storm took shape on February 5th as very cold air remained locked up to our north in Canada under unusually high pressure. High pressure remained nearly stationary over Greenland at the same time. That cold air to our north is a prerequisite for any snow storm to become major around Greater Boston, and is part of the reason why we haven’t had any biggies lately.
The contrast between the cold air over land, and a relatively warm ocean, fueled the intensification of a surface low pressure system diving out of the Great Lakes towards the Mid-Atlantic.
By the February 6, the storm roared in.
From 2-6 PM Boston logged blizzard conditions, meaning winds were sustained at 35+ MPH and visibilities were reduced to a quarter of a mile or less. It is the only time since 1961 that blizzard conditions have verified in the city of Boston. Peak gusts in the city hit 79 MPH, while a 93 MPH gust was clocked in Chatham.
The blizzard caught many commuters off guard, trapping at least 3,500 cars on Route 128. In just 24 hours Boston had measured 23.6″ of snow, a record that still stands today. The final snowfall total reached 27.1″ in town, but some places like Rockport (32.5″) notched nearly 3 feet of snow.
The 36 hour storm was most menacing along the coast, where four astronomically high tide cycles inundated neighborhoods from the North to South Shore. Tides were driven nearly 4 feet higher than normal thanks to a new moon, with waves adding nearly another 12 feet! A staggering 2,000 homes were destroyed in the storm, with Hull, Scituate, and Revere taking the biggest battering. Damages topped $1 billion dollars according to the National Weather Service, and the death toll hit 73 in the Bay State.
Interestingly enough the National Weather Service issued Winter Storm Watches 30 hours before the storm hit, and warned of near-blizzard conditions 15 hours before the storm struck. Prior botched snowfall forecasts, including during a storm in January of 1978 that produced nearly 2 feet of snow, left the public and many on-air meteorologists skeptical. Only at the last minute did many buy into the storm, and even then, no one expected such mass devastation.
With today’s modern technology it’s hard to imagine being so severely blind-sided by a storm in the future. At the same time, however, coastal development has progressed at break neck speeds since the blizzard, leaving even more people and property vulnerable to the next big storm.
Did you live through the blizzard? Leave your story below to relive the storm.
sending...
I remember it well! I was in the Navy and stationed at NAS South Weymouth and not allowed to leave the base for a week. Everyone was “volunteered” for assignments and since I knew how to run a switchboard – the old fashioned kind – I spent a week with a shipmate running the switchboard in the Admin Building. We even had our meals brought to us! I even got a medal for it – Humanitarian Service Award.
Congratulations, I didn’t realize you got an award out of the storm!
I was a senior in high school in Scituate. The coastline was ravaged. Houses damaged, taken off of their foundations, or had the wall that faced the ocean completely removed. It was like looking into a life-sized dollhouse. There were fishing boats tossed up into Cole Parkway and the parking lot at the old Welch Company. I spent the next three weeks riding an oil truck with Anderson Fuel out of North Scituate Village with my Dad, and my older brother, both of whom delivered fuel oil for the company. Scituate High School was closed as they were using the gym as a shelter for the people who had lost their homes. I remember being down on the Driftway with my Dad. WBZ’s helicopter had landed not far from where we were. A pilot got out, (Joe Green as we found out later), and asked us if this was Humarock? My Dad pointed across the river and said, “THAT’s Humarock.” The guy said he was trying to get over there to airlift out a woman who was going into labor. The roads were impassable. I remember military police out in force, with rifles that we were told had live ammunition in them. (There had been some instances of looting and vandalism a few days after the Blizzard.) Fuel oil trucks were one of the vehicles considered to be “essential” so I got to see quite a bit. One man who was out sightseeing, was told by the MP that he had to go home. He was a danger to himself and essential personnel that were out securing and protecting property. The man argued with the MP. The MP asked him for his license. He took it away from him, told him to get out of the car and lock it. They impounded his car and for all I know hauled him away in a Humvee. _They meant business._ It was an interesting time because so many pulled together to help others out. Human nature at its best.
What a great story, thanks for sharing!
Charles, those ARE such great memories – and the stories of people helping others are among my favorites recollections of that event. :0) I was a college sophomore and had left Bridgewater State for home after my last class of the day just as the snow started to pick up. I am pretty sure that if I had left an hour later I would have gotten stuck on route 24 – because once the storm got rolling, you couldn’t see 10 feet in front of you the snowfall was so heavy and the winds so fierce. It went on like that for what seemed like days. The aftermath of the storm was mind- boggling. I remember looking out my bedroom window on the second floor of my mother’s house – a drift had formed right up to the window. I probably could have slid straight down to the ground if I had needed to. There was what seemed like an impossible amount of snow–everywhere. My mom, who was a nurse at Goddard Hospital in Stoughton, was asked to work – which she said she’d willingly do if she could find her car in the driveway. lol. As it turned out, the National Guard came to pick her up with one of those huge transport trucks – and she stayed for a week straight to help care for the patients.My now-husband was at that time a psychologist at the Fernald State School. He never was able to leave work at the end of his shift because the storm was too intense – and because no one could get there to relieve him. He tells me he was also there for over a week with several others who had volunteered to stay with the students. One of the things I remember most was finally being able to walk out the front door about 4 days after the storm. Neither I nor my elderly neighbors had much in the way of staples in the house so I volunteered to go to the store for milk and eggs and such. By that time the National Guard had been able to do some plowing but, no one was allowed to drive. I dragged a sled from the cellar out the front door and made the two mile walk to the center of town right down the middle of one of the busiest streets in Randolph. Just me and the occasional National Guard truck. It was an amazing time, those days after the storm. It felt like time had stopped – and for those two weeks, everyone was kind.
What amazing memories!