At the beginning of the 20th century, Galveston was one of the most prosperous cities in the United States. It boasted the first homes in Texas with electricity, streetlights at night, and telephone service. A major U.S. port at the time, its wealth earned it the nickname the “Wall Street of the South.” With that prosperity came hubris, though, and it cost Galveston almost everything.
On September 8, 1900, an unnamed Category 4 hurricane hit Galveston with 140 mile per hour winds, a torrential downpour, and a nearly 16-foot storm surge that submerged the island — which was only eight feet above sea level — under at least eight feet of water. According to Dr. Hal Needham, an extreme weather and disaster scientist based in Galveston, survivors described the city during the worst of it as rooftops poking through Gulf waters.
By most accounts, the hurricane killed between 6,000 to 8,000 people and destroyed roughly 40 percent of the city, making it the deadliest natural disaster in American history. However, the Great Storm also forced the U.S. Weather Bureau, the predecessor of the National Weather Service, to reevaluate the way it dealt with severe weather.
First, the hurricane forced the U.S. Weather Bureau to decentralize weather communications, according to Needham. Prior to Galveston, the bureau’s main office in Washington, D.C. evaluated weather reports and issued all storm warnings. When word came from Cuba of a storm heading toward the U.S., these officials predicted it would strike east of Galveston and warned that region.
As swells increased along Galveston’s beach and the tide rose despite an opposing wind, the bureau’s local chief meteorologist, Isaac Cline, who was on the ground in Galveston, realized the hurricane had changed course. By then, it was too late. With no way off Galveston Island and telegraph lines already down, Cline could only ask his brother to telephone Houston and have a telegraph company there wire Washington, D.C.
The storm cut off telephone communication immediately after, and Cline had to take action on his own. He raised the island’s hurricane flag and spread word for Galveston residents to prepare, but waiting to get the federal bureau’s permission to declare a warning cost time and probably lives, especially considering how quickly conditions changed.
In his official report filed on the storm, Cline described standing at his front door and the surge overwhelming him. He writes, “The water at this time was about eight inches deep in my residence, and the sudden rise of four feet brought it above my waist before I could change position.”
As a result of Cline’s report, the U.S. Weather Bureau recognized the importance of regional offices having the authority to issue warnings on their own.