A Survivors Account

September 21, 1938 Hurricane -- Saltaire, Fire Island
taken from Hopkins Family History

In 1938 we were moving back to Burnside Street after four years in Essex Falls. We had rented our house on Burnside Street and so we couldn't move in until October 1st. We decided it would be fun to stay at Saltaire for the month of September, which is always a beautiful month there. The days are generally clear—-if a little cooler——and crisp.

September 21st dawned, and it was very rainy and soggy as it had been raining for three days straight. Some of the Saltairians had decided to head for home before this as the weather had been very discouraging. Camp Cheerful--the Rotary camp for crippled boys at Kismet--had closed down the week before. So the summer population was quite reduced in numbers. What a piece of good fortune!

The Hopkins family were reduced to amusing themselves on this very rainy day. You children were running in and out of the house--in bare feet --- remarking on the accumulation of water in the front yard, a remark which I paid little attention to. We got out the card table and spread out a puzzle on the table. Then we started some fudge on our coal range. This always proved to be a very satisfying thing to do on a rainy day.

There was a knock on the front door and Mike Pryor called "get out of your house at once, don't stop for any thing, the ocean is sweeping the Island, get to the dock." was then aware that this was a good deal more than Just an other rainy day. I told Carol and Nat to go ahead and I would follow with Jeri, who was then only three years old. I grabbed the raincoats from the closet and gave them to you. Nat was putting his on as he rounded the corner on Harbor but the wind took it and it was gone. Nannie had heard Mike when he came to the door with his advice to get to the dock immediately, but she decided to go upstairs to gather some jewelry she had there before leaving. When Jeri and I arrived at Harbor there was Nat who wouldn't go without Nannie. Finally we all got to Broadway. I think the moment of truth was at that particular moment for me as I looked around and saw this large house on the corner of Broadway and Ocean Promenade being turned slowly by the force of the waves, and the water rushing down Broadway. The water was about a foot over the boardwalks, and of course was swirling with pieces of wood and debris in it.

We all managed to reach the Eladio, with the wind blowing 80 an hour. This was not easy. Henry Kelly, the Captain, had intended to take off from the dock, but the Eladio, which was in the elbow of the dock, was by this time hopelessly locked in by the wreckage of the houses from Kismet. How fortunate! As we never could have made it to Bay Shore I don't know how many there were on the Eladio, but too many for comfort. We finally decided to put on the life preservers and this created an even more crowded situation.- People were standing not saying a word; occasionally one of you would com plain someone was stepping on your toes. There were several people with dogs, and not one dog made a yip. They sensed the seriousness of the situation. The wind continued to howl, and the flying pieces of wood broke some of the windows in the cabin. Henry was a very calm Captain. We found out later Captain Adams had warned him not to leave Saltaire. He had us hold life preservers over the broken windows while everything on top of the Eladio was blown off. He cautioned us all to remain calm. There was just one lady who started to get hysterical, and he took care of her in short order. He was very much in command of the situation.

We stayed on the Eladio for several hours. The wind kept howling, and more and more wreckage was building up in the bay. We Just hoped it wouldn't prove too much for the Eladio. I decided I should make some plans in case it did. There were three of you to be taken care of, so I decided I would take Jeri, Nanny would take Nat, and Father Dunham, the minister of the Episcopal Church, would take Carol-- just in case the Eladio could not hold up. After about three hours on the crowded quarters on the Eladio (not like the conditions of those who were on "the Seahorse," a converted battleship—tender) it was decided the waters had subsided. The ocean was no longer coming over the island and it would be safe to head for the Village Hall. The wind was still blowing furiously, but one by one they conducted us off the dock. The dock had buckled with the stones which it was filled with, making mounds for us to walk over. The dock was covered with debris. The bay was solid with houses and debris. We could have walked ashore on rooftops. We had noticed one house from Kismet which had been washed down. A dog was standing near it. The body of the wife of the school teacher from Kismet was found in this house. She had been killed by the collapse of the roof and this was her dog. Fortunately for us, just the year before the dock had been made into a solid dock, which probably saved our lives.

We managed to reach the Village Hall and it was decided that those with children should occupy the upstairs. Downstairs had been flooded with a couple of feet of water. It was getting late and we had had nothing to eat. The Lange's store was still intact, so I made a trip to the store, being careful not to trip over the debris that was everywhere. I bought milk and toilet paper for General consumption. (He asked me whom he should Charge it to, and I said "Me" well, he did. I got the bill the next Spring.) In the meantime, some of the others foraged in the cottages that were more or less intact, and they came back with blankets, anything they could find in refrigerators, plus plenty of bottles of liquor.

As the night wore on, it got quite gay and noisy downstairs. You children were lying on blankets upstairs, but naturally you were too excited to sleep more than a few winks, and you didn't want to miss any of the fun 'downstairs. Captain Baldwin, who was feeling no pain, was singing "When the Moon Comes Over the Mountain," and enjoying himself. We couldn't wonder. He had spent the hurricane floating around, or rather being pushed around the bay on his shack. After that his shack and boat were in Clam Cove, a more sheltered spot. Miss Burgess decided she never did indulge, but this should be an exception, she needed something. We all agreed. A man who was feeling no pain tried to persuade his wife to remove her stays and relax. He was completely relaxed and she was mad. There was a general air of camaraderie about the whole evening, and one of forced gaiety. We wondered how many people had made it.

The evening wore on and it became very clear, a beautiful night. How could the weather change so in a matter of not too many hours? About two in the morning a boatload of newspaper men descended upon the Village Hall with some residents who had heard about the hurricane on the radio and gone to Bay Shore. They had chartered a boat and came to get a good story. We learned then that Madame Bassinelt, her sister, Miss Alice, and Mrs. Haas had not been accounted for. Mike Pryor had tried to persuade them to leave the Bassinelt large home on the ocean front, but she insisted that she had weathered many storms at Saltaire and intended to stay. Madame B. and Mrs. Haas were killed when the house collapsed. Miss Alice had gone out of the window and was found floating on a house top later on. Hers was the most harrowing tale. Of course, the newsmen were all anxious to have all the details which we filled them in on. I agreed on condition that they try to get hold of your father, as I knew how worried he must be if he had heard anything on the Eladio They agreed to have the telephone operator call him in Montclair, to tell him we were all safe. They did, and woke him out of a sound sleep to tell him we were safe. He had been blissfully unaware of conditions at Saltaire, as he hadn't heard the radio reports of the hurricane at Saltaire.

He was staying at 42, so he awoke Dad, told him and they called Bay Shore to find a second boat was going over at 5:30 in the morning. They persuaded them to delay the departure until they arrived, which they did. Were we glad to see them! They brought hot coffee, milk, etc. That was welcome too.

It was a beautiful, clear fall morning; as we looked out from the Village Hall we could hardly believe the devastation that had been wrought. We wondered how we had survived on the Eladio, with all that debris around. We looked up towards Kismet and saw some figures emerging from Mr. Lange's house waving
a sheet. They were the family who had been in the Gull cottage and had taken refuge in the Fry's, which had floated down to the bay only to be stopped by a telegraph pole, from being swept away in the Bay. They had taken refuge in Mr. Lange's house when the storm subsided. It was good to know they were safe, too.

Daddy and I decided we would try to reach our cottage, and get some dry clothes if we could. We started up Broadway, passed the church which was standing, by the Andren House to Clay House. We reached this by way of housetops, dining table tops, and finally our back door. There was the fudge still on the coal stove with a piece of a pine tree standing up straight in it. We went into the living room. There was the card table with the puzzle still on it. It was easy to see how high the water had been in the living room, as it left a mark on the wall, which we have preserved today a notch in the uprights. The picture window was gone, later discovered near Mike Coffey's unbroken. The water must have been about eight feet deep in one part of Saltaire. How lucky we had raised boardwalks and that they were still intact when we left our house. We went upstairs to claim some apparel to wear home. It was really weird as the house was off its foundation. The Cadys' house was Jammed against it and so the stairs were at a slight angle. I felt like Captain Baldwin the night before. We collected shoes and socks for the children as well as dry clothes. I had had on a blue linen dress. Those were the days before slacks and shorts. Nothing could have been more inappropriate. From our house we looked out at an absolutely flat expanse of land, generously dotted with toilet bowls, bath tubs, too heavy to be pushed any further. Across and around us were remains of houses. It was a sad sight. Our house was the first one left standing a quarter mile from the ocean.

We gathered a few belongings, went back to the Village Hall and boarded a Coast Guard boat at the dock. We wondered how we could have survived the destruction that was everywhere, and how so much could have been destroyed in a few hours. The Coast Guard boat got us safely to Bay Shore. We spent the next few days at 42 until we could move to 7 Burnside. Nanny went to Mountainside with a gall bladder attack and I suffered from neuritis in my neck and arm. You three enjoyed the publicity you had gained from being caught in the hurricane.

There were only about 90 houses left after the hurricane, just a little less than half what there had been.

The next spring it was our turn to go first. I didn't look forward to it. The place was pretty depressing. Most of the houses which could be salvaged were put back on their original sites. A house mover from Bay Shore had restored our house to its original foundation. Every day about 100 men from WPA were brought over by the Village ferry to clean up the debris. It looked like a hopeless process. If it hadn't been for Mayor Paul Schmidt's persistent effort to enlist the help of WPA, Saltaire would not have survived. I must say that I felt a bit uneasy at Saltaire that June. There were very few people except the WPA workers around and for the first time I felt more comfortable with the doors locked. There was an awful lot of beer consumed at Saltaire during that time. Aunt Helen Kirk and Doodie came down to visit us that spring and Carol and Doodie spent a lot of time collecting bottles and taking them to the store for a refund amid protests from Mr. Lange. I couldn't feel sympathetic towards him.

1938 certainly was a year we will never forget. For years no one wanted to build at Saltaire. Some of the old timers whose homes had been destroyed bought other homes. There weren't too many houses but everyone knew everyone, and we enjoyed our summers there.

Slowly things came to life..