#1900 storm

[quasarlasar]

"I am death incarnate! I do not like this love-y dove-y stuff!"

"Don't--BURR-UP!--squeeze me that hard!!!"

10 years ago I drew this drawing of mini-Labor Day and mini-Camille just kind of affectionately hanging out.

September 8 this year was the 125th anniversary of the infamous 1900 Galveston hurricane, the deadliest natural disaster in U.S. history (in-story he's just referred to as 1900). I had intended to do some art of 1900 for the anniversary but I never finished it in time. I do have some creepy art of him for Halloween but it's kind of nonsensical if you haven't read Melissa and the Allies of Gaia.

The predicted tango between Humberto and Imelda reminded me of the old Labor Day + Camille drawing, and I realized I needed to do a version with Carla and 1900. With Labor Day and Camille, their affection is mutual. With Carla and 1900, it's mostly one-sided. Carla cares a lot about 1900 and loves him, while 1900 mostly is incapable of loving anyone who doesn't also share his hobby of killing people. His soul was summoned back from the spirit world accidentally combined with the souls of his victims, such that he is not only a new physical form of the original hurricane, but also that of all the living things that died in the storm.

...This is a very convoluted way of saying that 1900 has a mishmash of human and animal anatomy inside him, which means he can get stuff like acid reflux. I imagine he suffers from GERD pretty bad due to his bad habit of eating entire barrier islands*, and it can get triggered if Carla hugs him too hard.

The reason why Carla loves him so much is unclear. Their personalities and values are complete opposites. Carla is kind (or at least as kind as you can be and still be a hurricane) and doesn't derive joy from death. And she can't really be expecting to change him because...c'mon it's been 125 years.

I suspect Carla feels like she has to love him because nobody else does. Humans hate him for obvious reasons. The normal hurricanes hate him for prioritizing killing people over balancing the atmosphere and preserving Earth's habitability**. The evil hurricanes hate him because they're evil from our perspective for hating humans, and 1900 is part-human now, so they hate him too.

-* He would probably tell Carla he doesn't actually eat the barrier islands, only the stuff on top of them. Which doesn't really help his case at all. Needless to say buildings are hard on anyone's digestive system, and even more so on one used to nothing but warm seawater most of the time.

-** 1900 insists that causing death and destruction is part of a hurricane's role in nature. Most other hurricanes prefer to brush this aside and just not think about it. 1900 is evil and proud of it, but he thinks of himself as honest at least.

[interpretingtexas]

The 1900 Galveston Hurricane

Galveston Galveston is located on one of the barrier islands that line the Texas coast. In 1900, Galveston was a booming port town. One of the largest cities in Texas and one of the largest ports in the US, it was known for its number of wealthy residents and extravagant buildings. It was also highly cosmopolitan, since many African Americans had come to the city after the Civil War and Galveston was a port of entry for immigrants, many of whom settled there. At the turn of the century, Galveston had a population of 37,000 people, which swelled in the summer months with beach-going tourists. Despite the destruction of Indianola on the Texas coast by two storms in the previous decades, it was the professional opinion of many in the US Weather Bureau, and particularly Isaac Cline, who was stationed there, that the city of Galveston was perfectly positioned to be safe from all major storms. They were wrong.

Path of the Galveston Hurricane. [source]

The Storm On September 1st, 1900, a tropical storm formed in the Caribbean. It made landfall as a weak tropical storm in the Dominican Republic, then Puerto Rico, before reaching Cuba on the 3rd. The Cuban meteorologists were familiar with hurricanes - they'd studied them for hundreds of years - and Father Lorenzo Gangoite, head of the Belen College Observatory had been watching the storm develop. As it passed over Cuba and into the Gulf, he told the US Weather Bureau station on the island that the signs all pointed to a storm that would strengthen as it entered the Gulf and head for the Texas coast. The US Weather Bureau disregarded the Cuban meteorologists' expertise. They thought that the storm would swing and head up the Atlantic Coast. To that end, the Weather Bureau issued storm warnings along the Florida, Georgia, and Carolina coasts. The Cubans, of course, were right. On the 6th, the storm that had strengthened to hurricane winds passed over the ship Louisiana in the Gulf. The US Weather Bureau was confused, initially thinking that they'd lost the Cuban storm headed up the coast and discovered another major storm that had appeared in the Gulf. Even after they realized it was the same storm, they underestimated it's intensity. Willis Moore, director of the Weather Bureau, refused to call it a hurricane or issue more than strong wind warnings for the Texas coast. He also forbid the station in Galveston to issue them, worrying that it would cause a panic. On the afternoon of September 8th, Galveston was hit nearly directly with a Category 4 hurricane with almost no warning.

Damage Map of Galveston after the hurricane. Water covered the entire island and more than 3 thousand buildings were completely destroyed. Published in the Houston Post, September 27, 1900. [source]

Aftermath of the 1900 Galveston storm. Library of Congress. [source]

The Aftermath When the hurricane finally cleared Galveston, the damage was horrific. A 15 foot storm surge had covered the entire island and had knocked buildings off their foundations and into other buildings. About a third of buildings in the city were completely destroyed. The death toll was high.  Isaac Cline eventually issued a hurricane warning and spent some of the afternoon warning people to leave the city, or at least the beach front, but few did. Those who delayed were trapped when the bridges to the mainland were destroyed. Official death counts were around 6 to 8 thousand, but estimates range as high as 12,000. The train from Houston was unable to reach Galveston after the storm, due to debris on and damage to the track, and passengers reported seeing dead bodies from the train. With the island nearly destroyed, the bodies couldn't be buried and so instead were taken out on barges for a burial at sea. Horrifically, the bodies started washing up on the beaches with the next tide. Finally, funeral pyres were lit and continued to burn for weeks. The storm continued what is today considered a typical path, hitting Houston, Oklahoma, and the Midwest before swinging to the Northeast and finally leaving the continent through Nova Scotia. Even after being weakened by traveling over land, the remnants of the storm caused hundreds of casualties in Canada.

The Seawall, Galveston, Texas, 1907. University of Houston Digital Library. [source]

Galveston Today Galveston never completely recovered from the 1900 hurricane. They built a seawall almost 10 miles long and 17 feet tall and pumped in sand from the gulf to raise the entire city up about 7 feet. Though these measures protected the city from future storms - a Category 4 hurricane in 1915 resulted in significantly less damage and loss of life - they couldn't protect the city's image. Investors thought that Galveston was too exposed as a port and turned instead to the city of Houston, further inland. The Houston shipping channel was dredged in 1909 and Galveston's status as a port city was further eroded. Today, Galveston is known as a tourist destination. Tourists can stay in historic hotels, including one that survived the Galveston storm, and are drawn to the many activities available along the water front. But reminders of the storm still abound. The flood line is still visible on some of the historic buildings and every building that made it through the storm has a plaque that marks it, like the city itself, as a survivor.

If you want a fantastic book on this event, check out Erik Larson’s Isaac’s Storm.

[quasarlasar]

I Swear Harvey Acts Like It Is Sentient Part 11---Not Enough Rain to Wash Away Our Sins

The tone of Carla’s voice abruptly shifted towards the lower end of a contralto.

“Harvey, I have something I have to confess to you. When I said you were not the first hurricane to feel like you were just tossed into cities for no reason at all, I did not simply say this as a general statement. I said this because I literally felt like you, once, a long time ago.

Like you, I once was a naïve cyclone, fully convinced in my mission to deliver tropical heat and moisture to the poles. I did not understand why the winds blew me in the direction they did, or why I made landfall in the same place you did, but I accepted it. After all, as far as I knew, I was the only one suffering, feeling my circulation collapse over land.

When I finally dissipated, and ascended to the spirit world, I was happy. I had done what I had been sent out into the trade winds to do, and now I could spend my afterlife with the storms of the past. I met 1900, and I fell in love.”

“WAIT…you fell in love…with 1900?!” Harvey shouted in shock. “You loved THAT guy?”

“Love. As in, I still do.”

Harvey paused for a second, trying to process this information. “But, you are nothing like him!”

Was Harvey imagining things, or was something like a tear condensing in the corner of Carla’s eyewall? It was probably nothing.

“1900 did not used to be quite as bitter as he is now. He was always disdainful of humans, and couldn’t care less about what happened to the innocents in his path. But, like you, I had known nothing of humans, and I soaked up what he said without question.”

Harvey couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “But didn’t he show you how you had killed humans, like how he showed me how I had devastated Texas?”

“No. For in those days, 1900’s hatred of mankind was not as well developed. He disliked how they destroyed the environment and altered the land, sky, and sea to suit their short-lived whims, but he was not so proud of killing them that he would show off the ways in which they died in storms.

So all that I learned from him was the ways in which humans had been changing the planet that made it harder for us to help keep the climate in balance. And I grew to the conclusion that as hurricanes, our goal should not be simply to redistribute heat, but to enact Gaia’s vengeance upon mankind.”

Harvey had met Gaia, the consciousness of the planet, once, when he was first sent forth on his journey across the Atlantic. All forces of nature knew her personally. And he knew that if Gaia could be convinced to wipe out a life form, it meant things were going to be bad indeed. Her magnetic field, plate tectonics, and chemical cycles normally helped to preserve the balance of life on Earth, but she could just as easily use them to cause mass extinctions.

“I went around the spirit world, and spoke to all the ghosts of the storms past, present, and future. I met the Labor Day Hurricane of 1935, who while not particularly angry at humans, also did not much care for them. I met Hurricane Camille, who felt that it was best to side with whomever might prevail. Time passed, and in the 80s, I met Hurricane Gilbert, who quickly became a leader amongst the hurricane spirits. And eventually, with 1900’s help, I persuaded everyone to call upon Hurakan, the creator of all Atlantic tropical cyclones.”

Strangely, while Harvey remembered Gaia very well, he did not remember even the face of Hurakan. Maybe a bluish figure, faintly visible in the winds over Cabo Verde. But he could have just as well been thinking of the sky. Hurakan breathed life into tropical disturbances, but he did not control their fate. He was at best an absentee father amongst storms.

“The humans had spoken of times when Hurakan had summoned a great flood to wash away mankind. They recalled a great sequence of worlds, each with its own people. Hurakan had played an instrumental role in creating the worlds, but he also destroyed them when the people proved to be wicked and sinful.”

“Did that…really happen?” asked Harvey. “Is there really…enough rain in all the world to wash away the sins of man?”

“I am not sure if the legends are true. Myths are always a mix of truth and allegory. But I nonetheless was convinced it was possible to at least deter mankind from destroying the environment with a flood, and Hurakan began to plan for the mobilization of such an event.

Since then, though…I have come to believe that there is not enough water in all the oceans to erase the effects of man.

What changed my mind is when I saw, through the frosty mists of time, what had transpired in the material world on the day of my landfall. I saw a person, in a house by the beach, get repeatedly told by his fellows to evacuate. Police banged on his door and put up notices on the walls. Family members begged him to leave. But he stayed put, and nothing could change his mind.

It was then that I realized that humans had something we storms completely lacked: free will. The strongest of winds could blow down on a human’s home, and he would not bow to them. And even if he died in the process, others would come back to the ruins, and rebuild it, with even more people than before.

Humans cannot be made to stop what they are doing. They choose, for reasons I still don’t fully understand, to do what puts them in harm’s way. They build their homes in floodplains. They drain swamps and replace them with condos instead. They’ll construct a seawall to protect the cities behind them, and then put their houses on top of it anyway.”

“Or even…create reservoirs to divert floodwaters, and then, decide to live in the places where the water would be diverted.”

“Exactly.”

Harvey thought about this some more. “But, if as you say, humans cannot be made to change what they do, doesn’t that mean that 1900 is correct, and we have to destroy them?”

Carla wiped something from her eye. Was it really not a tear?

“No. Because destroying them will not get rid of the damage they have done. I saw their refineries get torn apart in storms, and spill their toxic contents everywhere. I saw endangered mangroves, already weakened by man’s efforts, get washed away in storm surges. I saw oil slicks and chemical spills bake in the sun in New Orleans after Katrina struck that city.”

“Yeah…” Harvey sighed, becoming depressed. “I think I saw a chemical plant explode from the floodwaters created by my rain. You’re right. It would be much better for the planet if the humans change, instead of if we simply destroy them.”

“That is the issue. We do not have free will. In the spirit world, we are able to do as we please, but here our energies do not affect anything. Our ghosts are barely visible as atmospheric noise in the material world. It is the material world where the real work of the world is done, and it is not a place where storms have any control over their destiny. We cannot target our rage such that it only destroys what we want to destroy. We are at the mercy of chaos and randomness.

Once I figured this out, I tried to convince 1900 he had been mistaken. But he only had hardened in his hatred of humans. His heart had darkened to the point he now got off on their suffering, and he became consumed by a sadistic urge to continue the carnage he had visited on Galveston a century ago. I went back to Hurakan to tell him that the idea of a global flood was a terrible one, and that destroying mankind would just make things worse, but he had already made up his mind. The humans were causing the seas to rise, and when they had raised the sea level enough, he would send them storms that would put their civilizations underwater.”

Harvey shuddered. He wasn’t sure what to make of all this. Carla’s voice cracked, and it was clear she did not either.

“I…I-I-I…I just…I don’t….I DON’T WANT TO KILL ANYONE OR ANYTHING ANYMORE!” Carla shouted before finally bursting into tears. Harvey tried to comfort her, but he had no clue how. He was beginning to cry himself.

“I want to change the world, but I can’t even change 1900,” Carla choked out between sheets of driving rain. “No matter how much I try, he doesn’t seem to even notice that I love him.”

“I…could love you, Carla…” Harvey said teary-eyed. Carla embraced him and stroked his cirrus canopy.

“Oh Harvey…” she sobbed. “I wish I could love you back. But 1900 stole my heart, and I simply am not able to fall in love again.”

“That is okay, Carla,” Harvey sniffled. “I’m too delicate and sensitive to be much of a storm anyway. I can’t do anything except cry.”

“HARVEY,” Carla shouted. “DO NOT SAY THAT. We are all delicate, sensitive things. Any hurricanes who pretend otherwise are deluding themselves. It is okay to cry.”

Harvey wailed and cried torrents of rain. Carla did too. They kept on pouring rain into the night.

Eventually their rainfall rate lightened up, and they cried themselves to sleep.

The next morning, they watched the sun rise one last time.

Millions of people in Texas had hailed the sun that came after the long nights of rain. But now, it was Harvey and Carla’s turn. For the first time, and perhaps one of the only times, the humans and the storms felt the same sense of release. The golden light of the tropical sun evaporated their tears, and filled their hearts with warmth.

“Carla…” Harvey said, “What exactly can we do?”

Carla stopped gazing at the sunrise to look one last time at Harvey.

“I’m not sure there is anything we can do. Unless we are called back to the material world, there is little we can do to influence it. And even then, there is no guarantee we can change human behavior.”

Harvey looked over to the coastline. He saw the faint wisps of human towns, barely visible through the mists of the spirit world.

“Is there a place in the spirit world…for human spirits?” Harvey asked.

“Yes,” Carla said.

“Then I will find where it is, and confront the souls of those who died in my floodwaters.”

Carla staggered back in shock. “Harvey…you don’t need to do that.”

“I must face what I have done, even if it proves difficult. And maybe, just maybe, if I can address the horrors of what I have done, I might be able to to get mankind to do the same. If I cannot change the humans in the real world, then perhaps I can change them in the spirit world. And then…if the humans hear the lessons of the past, and the tales of their ancestors, they will be better prepared next time.”

Carla ran her spiral bands through Harvey’s hair. “I’m not sure they will listen to you. Humans are bad enough at listening to others of their own kind. I’m not sure if they will be patient enough to listen to the words of someone not of their species.”

“I will have to try.”

Harvey got up and started to head off into the planes of time. Carla did the same, but in a different direction.

“It might be possible, through the slightest influence, to speak to the storms of the present,” Carla said. “They won’t be able to change their course, but they might be able to make sure their message is heard.”

“What do you mean?” Harvey asked.

“We cannot force the humans to change. It is ultimately up to them to choose the right choice. But we can make ourselves available to their instruments, to their scientists, and to their historians. So that they can gather the information they need to recognize the damage they have done, and the risks they have accrued. And that…perhaps…in the future…next time it happens…they will be ready.

For there will be a next time. I have no doubt about it. And before it comes, they will have to choose. Will they risk the safety of their cities, of the environment, and the climate for short term gain? Or will they listen to the voices in the wind, the cycles of pressure that rise and fall over the Earth, and decide that ‘NO, the future is WORTH PRESERVING!’?”

Harvey turned to face Carla as he began to disappear into the mists of time. “I’ve been wandering the oceans for days now, but I think now, I have found my purpose. It is not a purpose I was made for, but it is one I have chosen. And I now realize that while our path is decided by forces outside our control, it is up to us what we make of it.”

And with that, the two parted ways, guided onwards to their uncertain futures by the grinding gears of the atmosphere.

Beneath them, in the material world, new storms gathered. Another piece of human civilization now found itself at the mercy of the wind and the water. Islands hunkered down. People fled the coasts by the millions. A few stayed behind, choosing to risk their lives for reasons only they could know. Resort towns found themselves besieged by the beautiful seascapes they had been built to overlook, and car engines were flooded by the oceans that had been rising under the heat of their collective exhaust.

Human nature and mother nature were about to collide, and nobody could know for certain what each would do. But such is the nature of the game. Computers ran their models. Economists tabulated potential loss rates. A dropsonde measured a lapse rate.

Mankind had the data. But would people make the right decisions? The fogginess of the future loomed.

Such is life.

I should note that the title is metaphorical. I don’t literally believe disasters occur because of sinful people. What I refer to as “sin” here is really the collective failure of our society to keep people safe from the ravages of nature. It’s got nothing to do with the behavior of individual people, but rather the aggregate flaws in our governments and markets.

For Part 1: https://quasarlasar.tumblr.com/post/164725073744/i-swear-harvey-acts-like-its-sentient

For Part 2: https://quasarlasar.tumblr.com/post/165020849884/i-swear-harvey-acts-like-it-is-sentient-part

For Part 3: https://quasarlasar.tumblr.com/post/165030132759/i-swear-harvey-acts-like-it-is-sentient-part

For Part 4: https://quasarlasar.tumblr.com/post/165062895664/i-swear-harvey-acts-like-it-is-sentient-part-4-a

For Part 5: https://quasarlasar.tumblr.com/post/165071721294/i-swear-harvey-acts-like-it-is-sentient-part

For Part 6: https://quasarlasar.tumblr.com/post/165097430704/i-swear-harvey-acts-like-it-is-sentient-part

For Part 7: https://quasarlasar.tumblr.com/post/165100390219/i-swear-harvey-acts-like-it-is-sentient-part

For Part 8: https://quasarlasar.tumblr.com/post/165125372209/i-swear-harvey-acts-like-it-is-sentient-part

For Part 9: https://quasarlasar.tumblr.com/post/165176548014/i-swear-harvey-acts-like-it-is-sentient-part

For Part 10: https://quasarlasar.tumblr.com/post/165201582949/i-swear-harvey-acts-like-it-is-sentient-part

[quasarlasar]

STORM SURGE

Oh hey, look, we don’t even have to go to the beach. The beach came to us!

[quasarlasar]

Hmm...

The page divider on the Galveston Daily News’ 1900 storm website looks kinda like something...

Just missing the slit pupil...

P.S. Here is the actual website lol, so you can look at it yourself

https://www.1900storm.com/

[shipsnsails]

Below the cut is an excerpt from Isaac's Storm by Erik Larson describing aftermath of the 1900 Storm, and people searching the dead for their missing loved ones. Total deaths are now estimated at eight to twelve thousand.

"Isaac checked the city's hospitals to see if they had survived, and whether anyone inside had seen his wife. The hospitals had weathered the storm well. He may have returned with his injured daughter. At the hospital he heard that a temporary morgue had been established on the north side of the Strand, between 21st and 22nd. He went there next.

The scent of putrefaction and human waste was at once sickening and heartbreaking. It made his loss seem more definite and filled him with sorrow. The warehouse was a large chamber with a ceiling supported at intervals by fifteen-foot iron pillars, between which the dead lay in rows that stretched from wall to wall. Men and women moved intently among the rows as if hunting bargains at a public market. Many bodies were uncovered, others lay under sheets and blankets, which survivors peeled back to expose the faces underneath. J.H. Hawley, an agent for the Great Northern Railroad, saw the faces of many friends. Under one he found the body of a Mrs. Wakalee, "with a faint smile on her lips... her gray hair all matted and streaming in disordered confusion about her shoulders." He saw his friends Walter Fisher and Richard Swain. Lacerations, bruises, and bloating distorted features and made it hard to tell people apart, even whether a man was black or white. The sun warmed the room, accelerating decomposition. "Odors arise," Hawley said, "making it most unbearable."

A photograph survives. It shows at least fifty bodies. In one row, two boys lie side by side. They could be twins. They wear matching shirts. One lies in the fetal position that young children often adopt when they sleep, but his neck appears to be broken. He looks upward over his right shoulder at an impossible angle. His brother watches with a frown. No one wears shoes; no one seems at peace. Many of the dead have the same expression, as if dreaming the same awful thing. Their brows are furrowed, their mouths perfect circles. They could be gasping."

[shipsnsails]

Below the cut is an excerpt from Isaac's Storm by Erik Larson, page 212, which describes events at Saint Mary's Orphanage on Galveston island during the 1900 storm.

"Three miles down the beach, the big St. Mary's Orphan with ninety-three children inside was under siege. It was a fortress of brick and stone that rose straight out of the grass just north of the tide line, a lonely Gibraltar shrouded most evenings in blue mist. Now waves crashed against its second story. Anyone watching from outside would have seen the lights of candles and lanterns move from room to room toward the back of the orphanage as the frontmost portions of the building collapsed into the sea like icebergs calved from a glacier.

The ten sisters who ran the place herded all ninety-three children into the chapel. Sister M. Camillus Tracy, thirty=one years old, the mother superior, ordered the other sisters to tie lengths of clothesline to the youngest children, then tie one end around their waists. They formed chains of six to eight children each, robed together like miniature climbing parties. A few older children, among them Will Murney, Albert Campbell, and Francis Bulnavic remained free. Sister Camillus led the children in hymns, including the children's favorite, "Queen of the Waves." The water rose. The children felt the concussion of each breaker as it struck the front of the building.

The sisters drew the children to the girls' dormitory at the back of the building, away from the beach. They heard the crash of wood and brick behind them as the boys' dormitory fell into the Gulf. The storm advanced through the building quickly and systematically, as if hunting the children. The chapel disappeared. Windows shattered. Hallways rose and fell like drawbridges. The children sang.

The sea and wind burst into the dormitory. In seconds, the building failed. Ninety children and all ten sisters died. Only Will, Albert, and Francis survived, all by catching hold of the same floating tree.

Later, a rescuer found one toddler's corpse on the beach. He tried lifting the child. A length of clothesline leaped from the sand, then tightened. He pulled the line. Another child emerged. The line continued into the sand. He uncovered eight children and a nun.

Sister Camillus had hoped the clothesline would save the children, but it was the clothesline, rescuers saw, that caused so many to die, tangling them in submerged wreckage."

[quasarlasar]

TONIGHT IS THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE 1900 STORM SO HAVE SOME CREEPY ART OF THE HURRICANE AS A NECROMANCER

From top to bottom:

-Solidifying human souls into a scythe while turning his outflow jets into wings

-Summoning a sentient storm surge that can hunt victims down with the ghosts of the damned

-1900 just eating Galveston Island like it’s a dead fish. He takes the phrase “into the teeth of the storm” way too literally, I guess.

-Some of what you’re going to see inside him. He’s basically a tempest made out of the souls that died in the 1900 hurricane.