The Arctic blast we’ve experienced this past week brought back vivid memories of another late January event 49 years ago, when Buffalo was in the midst of one of the worst blizzards—and worst winters—in its history. The city is no stranger to heavy snows, but this 1977 storm was notable for a number of reasons, among them, 70-mph winds, 18-foot snow drifts, wind chills of −60 °F, and sadly, the deaths of nearly 30 people, some buried in their cars. Those of us who lived through the thing will never forget it.
I remember distinctly how the storm unfolded. It began on a sunny Friday morning when most Buffalonians were at work. It had been a tough winter up to that point, with temperatures well below average since November, and snow every day from Christmas until January 28th when the real blizzard began. Normally Buffalo’s plowing equipment can easily handle the average snowfall, but with more than five feet of hard-packed snow already on the ground, the machines were overmatched. Many side streets were already impassable when the storm hit.
I was sitting at my typewriter at the North Buffalo Rocket newspaper that morning when one of my co-workers came in and told the boss, “I just got a call from my sister in Michigan. She says this storm is a really bad one, and we should head home now. Otherwise, we might not get home.” Fortunately the boss, who also happened to be my father, took the hint. He sent all the employees home, cleared off our car, and drove to the YMCA to pick up my mother and siblings.
Within what seemed like minutes, the weather turned from clear skies to ominous grey clouds, then a tsunami of white blanketed everything at once. The temperature plummeted to zero and the wind howled. I remember the snow falling faster than my father could brush it off the car. Around noon, the whole family left North Buffalo for what was typically a 15-minute drive home to the West Side. We didn’t make it home for nearly five hours, and we were among the fortunate ones.
We were driving south on Delaware Avenue, a four-lane major road that on this day quickly narrowed to only one lane open in each direction. We hadn’t gone far when we came to a complete stop. The car in front of us was spinning out in the deepening snow and blocking all southbound traffic. My father got out of our car to help others push the stalled vehicle out of the way. When he got back in our car, he was covered in snow from head to foot, ice had formed around his eyes and nose, and the skin on his face was a vivid red. Many times on the way home we would have to stop the car to push someone out of the way or clear the snow from our windshield so my father could see. At one point we drove over the median strip to the other side of the road to get around abandoned cars. We were all frightened.
We made it to the Roc-Mar Bowling Alley on Grant and Amherst Streets, where we went inside to warm up and assess the situation. My father stood at the door, watching the storm intensify, trying to decide what to do. Eventually, he saw a city bus heading down Grant Street. Dad decided if the bus could make it so could we, so we jumped back into the station wagon and followed it. It was slow going but we eventually made it all the way home.
For the next four days the storm raged. An estimated 13,000 people were trapped in buildings downtown, some not making it home for several days.[1] For the first time in American history, the President (Jimmy Carter held the office then) declared a “federal disaster” to address the devastating impacts of a winter storm. The National Guard was called in to assist with snow-clearing efforts, as was the Army Corps of Engineers, and later, Army airborne troops, the Air Force, and the Marines. Schools were closed for more than a week.
I remember venturing out after the storm was finally over and tripping over something metal. It was the top of a stop sign. The snow mounds were so high and cement-hard you walked on the top of them like a mountain range. We were snowbound for nearly a week, but we were lucky. We had heat and food, and the pipes in our house never froze.
The storm’s legacy lives on in another way, I have to add. In the soon-to-be-published, second book of my Buffalo trilogy, the main character, Cosi McCarthy, will become infamous as a result of the Blizzard of ’77. How does that happen? I won’t say more—you’ll have to read the book to find out!
As always, I would love to hear about your memories of the storm in the comments section, below.
Moxie Gardiner is a writer, gardener, and traveler who grew up on the West Side of Buffalo, NY. In a previous life she was a journalist, magazine editor, speech writer, and policy wonk. Back in the day she made three solo parachute jumps, flew in an F-15 fighter jet, and crawled through mud pits at the Jungle Operations Training Course in Panama. She now meditates, grows tomatoes, and enjoys a good online Zumba routine at home on winter evenings. Virgin Snow is her first novel, and she is currently working on Book Two in the trilogy.
[1] For a comprehensive recap of the storm, see the Wikipedia article (link below) that cites numerous articles and books written about this historic blizzard. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blizzard_of_1977
I was in morning classes at UB and they came in and told us the school was closing. I headed to the family tavern, Call’s, on Forest Avenue on the Westside. Friday lunches were always busy. The storm continued to intensify, till it came obvious most customers were not able to leave. The wind was howling like crazy and there was blinding snow. We were lucky, we didn’t lose power. There was plenty of food and drink. It was fish fry Fridays as always. A poker game broke out in the back and everyone settled in for the night. My mother went around the corner and stayed with our waitress. It was a couple of days before were were able to venture home in Tonawanda where my grandmother was stranded. The drive looked like a war zone with vehicles stuck everywhere and huge snowdrifts. Over the next week, we were able to keep the tavern open after Mayor Makowski closed all the roads except for food deliveries, with the amendment that beer was food!
Fantastic story Joe! First time I’d heard that beer was declared a food, but that makes sense to me! I’m sure there were many people grateful to your parents that weekend. Thanks for the comment.
The milk truck was stuck on the sidewalk in front of our store. It was fully loaded so we just brought it all into our walk in cooler. We stayed open 24/7 to help feed the neighborhood. We all stayed at my parents house on West Ave. walking back and forth to the store to relieve workers . The milkman stayed the whole time with us because he lived in West Seneca at the time. My brother, Rick, was getting married February 18th that year and they had no idea if the wedding was going to even take place. Betty was working the front desk at The Statler Hilton and was stranded for days there.
That storm was one for the history books, that’s for sure. It’s etched in my mind forever!
Thanks for the comment Cathy! One for the books indeed. Just like your parents to feed the whole neighborhood. They were such generous people. One question: did Rick get married on the 18th? Inquiring minds want to know!
Yes they married February 18th 1977❤️
I was a junior at Buffalo State College, and many places were closed due to the temperatures being so cold. If I remember correctly, the temperature was so cold that natural gas gelled up in pipes. Since college was closed I called into Tops Markets, were I worked and came in to earn some extra fun money since college tuition drained my bank account. I didn’t realize I would be there for 5 days. We stayed open for those who could walk there. Someone with a 4 wheel drive truck came by later to take the cashiers home or to a shelter. Oh darn, I had a crush on one particular cashier. We slept on mattress made of paper towels, and we ate pretty good. After 5 days, I walked home, got a nice warm shower and slept for hours. Oh, the cashier I liked, I had money and asked her out. We did go on several dates and drifted apart
Great story David! I particularly like the visual of Tops employees sleeping on a bed of paper towels. I also worked at Tops (on Niagara Street) during college. I wonder if we knew each other?
I lived in the City of Tonawanda and worked at the Tops in North Tonawanda. After I graduated from Buffalo State, I got married and moved to a Victoriana House in Parkside. Alas, I could not find a steady teaching position and eventually moved to Central Maryland. I still visit Buffalo and often feel at home when I do.
I was living in an outer borough of NYC then, but my parents kept me well-informed. To this day, I cannot fathom that kind of accumulation.
My favorite Blizzard story concerns my dad, and the way South Buffalo came together to help our neighbors. Dad owned a community pharmacy at the southeast corner of South Park Avenue and Marilla Street. Someone from the local police precinct would pick him up on a snowmobile and ferry him to the store by 10 am, and he would “open for business”. Doctors’ offices would call in new prescriptions; patients would call in to request refills. He worked on these until 3 pm. Then the precinct would send someone to Ski-Doo Dad home, and deliver all the meds.
This would never have happened in that Outer Borough (or most of the other places I’ve lived in the intervening years). Forty-nine years ago, I vowed I would return to western New York – the people here are simply The Best. Jobs and a kid got in the way. Five years ago, I finally made it happen. Friends in warmer places question my sanity during winters like this one, but I’m thrilled to be home.
And we are glad to have you back in the 716 Mary Ellen! Your dad sounds like he was a real trooper. Like you say, people in Buffalo are the best.
So many memories from the Blizzard of 77 that I’ll never forget! I was fortunate to be stuck at home, on Military Road in the Black Rock section, with my 9 month old son.
We rented a lower flat that, fortunately, did not lose heat or electricity. We had been advised on the news to lower our thermostats to conserve energy during this crisis. I closed off the front 2 rooms of our flat and spent a couple of stressed-out days in the kitchen & bedrooms. My husband didn’t make it home from work in Williamsville for a couple days.
My parents took in an elderly man that was out in the Blizzard and got lost.
We were among the lucky ones, suffering no damage, and having some incredible memories.
I love these stories about how good and kind people were to each other during one of the most difficult times in my living memory. The blizzard was bad, but it brought out the best in people.