The news media recently wrote about the Blizzard of 1978 because it hit all of Ohio. But I remember another one in Cleveland earlier than January 27.
Cleveland Mayor Dennis Kucinich had just been elected two months earlier. At one point, he had gone to the city garage and declared his administration was ready for snowfall. At the onslaught of the first blizzard, the crew found out they had just a few operable snowplows. One person who was the head of the Municipal Light system jump-started a plow using a floor polisher.
Dennis and I married in January 1977. I thought then I knew enough about the city and its politics to be fine. Blizzards were not part of my schooling.
I remember being at home and receiving a call from Dennis asking me to come to City Hall because a snowstorm was predicted. A half-hour later, the silver unmarked car used to transport us to different occasions pulled into our driveway. The snow was falling, but unconcerned, I took some of the plans I was working on, thinking I would have plenty of time to finish them. When I entered the section of the Mayor’s office where I worked, I stopped at the office of the Press Secretary. Andy Juniewitz was watching Dick Goddard’s midday weather report. He was predicting 80 mph winds and a foot of snow. Andy stood and said, “I’m going to go update Dennis.” I followed.
Dennis received the call that Cleveland had few working snowplows at this time.
Later that night, the winds were howling and shaking the outside balcony doors on the south side of the Mayor’s complex. Lakeside Avenue was covered, and snow was blowing horizontally. The street lights’ glow was being obliterated by the hurling snow. Reports came into the Mayor’s office that a Greyhound Bus was stopped on the highway known as the Shoreway. People were getting off. Some were heading north toward Lake Erie. Emergency crews were trying to get to them.
I don’t know why we thought we could help, but Dennis, his security guard, and I climbed into the Mayor’s vehicle. We were met with the smashing winds pulling out of the underground garage. Opening the window in the backseat of the car, I felt the vacuum caused by the velocity of the wind. The sideways snow never even flew in the window. On the police radio, Dennis let emergency personnel know to take the rescued people to the Rotunda at City Hall.
I don’t know how blankets and cots appeared, but they did. Possibly the Red Cross. Coffee urns and supplies lined the hallways. I took a break from answering the many phone calls jamming the Mayor’s Help Line when I looked from the second floor down to the Rotunda. I wondered if all the people there were only from the bus. There were so many.
The calls coming in ranged from mothers in tears who needed baby formula to a man angry because his alleyway was not plowed yet. Private contractors had been hired to plow streets. Emergency workers were working twenty-four hours. Little did we know another blizzard was on its way.
Cleveland's White Hurricane 1978