When the storm hit, no one knew it was coming.
September 21, 1938. The day dawned hot, murky and overcast in Northport, perhaps an indication of rain though it hardly seemed threatening. Off to the west and toward New York City, the sky was quickly puddling to a blue-black as the wind strengthened.
At Noon, rain was slicing across the Battery in New York with winds blowing 60 mph, raising 10 foot waves along the Hudson River waterfront at high tide. Despite hugging the shoreline, the fast-moving storm did not diminish in strength as it slid across Brooklyn and Queens, southwest to northeast, toward eastern Long Island and Connecticut. Winds had reached 150 mph when the storm made official landfall at Bellport, LI, at 3:15 pm.
On the East End, now in the way of the storm’s leading edge, the devastation had just begun. Ultimately, more than 800 people would be killed in New York, Connecticut, Rhode Island, and Massachusetts.
By then, Northport had been brushed by danger but was still largely intact. Water from Long Island Sound flooded Main Street, saturating businesses and ruining parked cars. Inland, trees fell like toys, downing wires, blocking streets and crushing structures, though it was said that there was little loss of life. Within days, after local road crews had sawed and removed downed logs, civilian volunteers from Northport decamped to Westhampton Beach and other hard-hit East End communities to console victims, bulldoze debris, and patrol streets.
Asharokan and Eaton’s Neck were not destroyed but fared much worse than town. The Asharokan peninsula was overtopped. Out at Port Eaton, four large gravel barges broke their moorings and were pushed by the wind into Northport harbor, damaging pleasure vessels along the way.
The Steers Gravel Company facility, including its outbuildings built on the sandbar, was completely destroyed. Later, the small remaining island would be called “Sand City.”
The Martin Family - Harry Sr., Frances, Janet and Harry, Jr. - were safely back in St. Albans by that time the hurricane arrived. Janet had started working in a local department store while Harry, Jr. began his sophomore year at Andrew Jackson High School in Jamaica as a captain of the swim team.
Harry Sr. waited for news of Valley Grove. It was not good. Water had cascaded down Essex Drive dragging sand bluff along with it while the raging Sound had rushed up the beach and into the road below the shanties. Many summer homes were buried under sand or had collapsed due to the combination of wind and accumulating wet sand.
But Harry, always optimistic, once again refused Frances’ entreaties to quit Valley Grove. Two summers’ on, the cottage had been rebuilt with the help of friends and the family was back in residence.
Now, Harry’s mind was preoccupied with the threat of World War. Too old to enlist, he had begun thinking about how he might engineer weapons to help the war effort, writing first to the Air Attaché to the British Embassy in Washington and then to Secretary of War Henry Stimson. His inventions, which he dutifully registered with the National Inventors Council, included a method for disarming enemy submarine projectiles and a boring technique for bullets to increase velocity.
Every idea was rejected.
Each languorous day passed without notice. Harry was frustrated. To pass the time, he wrote a short story called “The Hurricane” which he bound by hand, perhaps in the hope that his story might be continued.
Harry W. Martin, Sr. died in 1943, at the age of 52, never having been recognized for his creativity. “The Hurricane” passed to me when his son, my father, Harry W. Martin, Jr., passed away at the same age in 1976.
Here is Harry’s “Hurricane.”
Chapter 1 – Valley Grove
Valley Grove lies on the west coast of Eaton’s Neck, Long Island, about halfway between the Coast Guard Station at Eaton’s Point and the projecting strip of sand adjoining Sand City. This little summer colony does not appear on any of those triangular shaped charts shown on road maps from which road mileage between given points can readily be obtained, in fact on no known printed map has any attempt ever been made to indicate that Valley Grove exists. Proof of its existence lies in the fact that one can reach any of its inhabitants during the months of June to September through the medium of the postal service, by addressing all mail matter care of Robert Bergall Kelly. In addition to being honorary postmaster, Bergall Bob acts as Road Supervisor, Sanitary Commissioner; and is active head of the water supply system.
Included among Valley Grove’s most influential citizens is Captain Lester C. Hart, recently more familiarly known as Hurricane, master of the trim little power boat Muggins, formerly the Edna S. Dressed for a business trip to the city, Captain Hart’s sartorial appearance gives little indication of the nautical character he assumes when on vacation, or during the weekends, when he takes active command of the Muggins. Gone then is the strained look, the half-closed eyes, the protruding stomach, the flower in coat lapel; in fact, even the coat is missing. Dressed now in dirty white slacks and shirts, sneakers, no sox, a visored cap – usually reversed, Captain Les reverts in character to the happy-go-lucky chap he was when he first had fish and chips at Ma Williams. Shakes a mean horn pipe, knows all the chanteys, and in the telling of sailor’s yarns has no recognized peer. The one that he likes best to relate has its dramatic climax off Sand City late one afternoon in August during the summer season of 1940, just closed.
Chapter 2 – Sand City
Sand City adjoins the spit of land that forms the extreme south-western tip of Eaton’s Neck, while between Sand City and this strip of land is an artificial lagoon, an ideal anchorage for small boats during heavy weather; but a cold and dreary spot during the mildest days of winter. On the east shore of the lagoon dwells Eddie Gejac, fisherman, lobsterman and clam digger, of whom many share the belief that a boat loose from its moorings anywhere in Huntington Bay will eventually end up at Eddie’s. Whether or not this be true, the fact remains that the majority of skippers, in the event they lose a boat, get in touch with Eddie First before taking their troubles to the Coast Guard. Captain Les may not place any credence to these reports, but nevertheless the lagoon at Sand City is the home port of the Muggins.
Chapter 3 – The Fishing Trip
Friday, August 23rd, dawned bleak and cloudy with every indication that it would storm before nightfall. Brooding over a vacation replete with similar weather during the preceding five days, Captain Les determined on a fishing trip to Buoy #4, located about one mile southeast of Sand City. All had been made shipshape on the Muggins the preceding day, bait had been dug, refreshments prepared and Irene notified to be ready to cook a fish dinner for the evening meal. By ten-thirty, all invited guests on board and the fishing trip was underway. While still overcast above, the surface of the Sound was fairly smooth, giving promise of a few pleasant fishing hours ahead. Captain Les entertained his guests by spinning yarns and singing chanteys, being joined in the singing by his guests. Arriving at the fishing grounds, with all hands still in a gay mood, lines were overboard before the Muggins swung to in the channel tidal current. Time and tide flowed on, sandwiches disappeared, dead soldiers rolled in the cockpit, fish refused to bite, conversation lagged, while Captain Les rued the day he gave up his Corona-Coronas! Two hours later, anchors aweigh and Valley Grove-bound, dejected and disheartened, all hands nursing a grouch and a desire to be back home in the Valley.
Chapter 4 – The Hurricane
Late that same afternoon we find Captain Les dozing in an old camp chair, legs spread-eagled, stomach relaxed and a smile of utter satisfaction on his cherubic face, extending up to and including the now fully closed eyes. Beyond this point lay a vast smooth expanse, utterly devoid of hirsute adornment, interspersed with freckles of varying size, which, when observed from a short distance, somewhat resembled the Asharoken mud flats showing above the water at low tide. Suddenly, Captain Les leaped to his feet, picked up his cap and – but now let us look into the log of the good ship Muggins as entered by Captain Les the following day.
“Awakened four-thirty in the afternoon by the blaring of radio to find NBC announcing ‘storm of near hurricane intensity cutting diagonally across Long Island, with center of disturbance approaching Huntington Bay.’ “Picked up cap and without a thought of dinner, or family, rushed at full speed to Valley Grove anchorage, keeping a lookout for Fishless Bill, Bergall Bob, De Louie, or anyone else who might volunteer assistance.’
“Reached Muggins without seeing anyone, loosed mooring and soon was underway. Off to northwest water was calm but visibility poor; to southwest streaks of lightning in sky and surface of water showing whitecaps. Gave Muggins full throttle and within ten minutes was approaching windward of sand spit. Rain now coming down in torrents along with hail stones up to size of gull eggs pounding on the cabin roof.”
“Over Huntington Harbor all was dark; to the northeast, could barely distinguish sand spit. Wind now at hurricane velocity, Muggins slowly but surely being driven ashore. With throttle still wide open rushed to cabin forward hatch and dropped anchor, praying aloud anchor would hold. Suddenly felt severe jar, was sure had been beached but could sense not port or starboard list.”
“Instead, believed we were going down aft until realization came that Muggins was high out of water at the head, at an angle of near 80 degrees, being held in this position by hurricane high wind striking under bow and the forward driving effect of motor. Immediately felt boat starting spin in clockwise direction, resulting from secondary reaction of propeller forward driving effect. Now had difficulty keeping hold of tiller wheel as both feet had left floor of cockpit. Realized that should anchor fail to hold or should rope break, the Muggins would go over on her back.”
“Managed somehow to close throttle, abruptly resulting in Muggins hitting water bottom up, bu due to continued spinning effect boat completed three revolutions before landing topside up. Found cockpit and cabin floor under one foot of water so again opened throttle wide. Up and up rose the bow, and again, as before, boat started to spin, resulting in all water spilling over after deck combing, or being thrown off by centrifugal force due to boat spin.”
“This time, with gradual closing of throttle to half speed, the Muggins settled on the turbulent waters right side up, and, except for a few gallons of bilge water, found later, the Muggins was as dry as when we had left on the fishing trip a few short hours before.”
“Gradually, the storm abated, my first sight of land being the yacht club just across the bay, then looking over the stern of the Muggins observed the projecting sand spit barely one hundred feet away. Opened up throttle and soon had anchor store onboard. Proceeded to lagoon and within ten minutes was safely moored off Sand City.”
Some yarn and well worth retelling but here comes Hurricane Les himself. Chances are his first words will be, “Did I ever tell you about the hurricane off Sand City?”
The End
Be sure to read “Fishless Bill” in which Der Louie performs an epic spleen operation.
OUT SOON.