Magic Valley and the Winter of ’49
While many of us have experienced winters of heavy snow and brutal cold, they are so often forgotten with summer’s arrival. However, should you ask an old-timer about the worst winter they remember, and odds are they’ll recall the winter of ’49. The stories dad told me sounded exaggerated, or at the least embellished by time and fading memory. He spoke of driving through the town of Oakley and finding himself eye level with the power lines, as city crews gave up trying to remove the snow and resorted to packing it down. Fences buried so deep that a car could drive over them just to reach the main road, and drifts reaching the eaves of the house. The Burley Sheriff, with whom dad was friends, spent five days stranded on a train in Wyoming, handcuffed to a prisoner he was returning to Idaho.
Fantastic stories assuredly, but all true.
November 1948 ended normally enough, but December came with deep snow and temperatures that would turn extreme. The December 3rd issue of the Minidoka County News reported a record snowfall followed by another 2 ½ inches, adding that:
"Rupert's city mail carriers had a vote of appreciation to extend this week - to the people who cleared their sidewalks of snow after the record storm over the weekend.
'We wish we were able to extend that vote to everyone,' one of the carriers stated after trudging around his route, much of it through snow knee deep.
The moral is - shovel off your walks if you want [to] keep your mailman in a happy frame of mind."
By December 16, newspapers were already making claims of the "Weather Man Busy 'Bustin' Records Of Past 28 Years". While the December snowfall was heavier than normal, temperatures had been rather moderate; as of December 16, the coldest day had been a mild 13 degrees above zero. Within three weeks, the temperature would plummet to minus 23 degrees. The Burley Bulletin reported January 4, 1949 that:
"Old Man Winter cut loose with a horse laugh at the machine age Sunday night when he traveled around Burley and vicinity chopping the bottoms off all the thermometers.
Motorists in the area woke up Monday Morning to discover that their ordinarily reliable automobiles were suffering from hardening of the water system.
Quite a number of local residents had prepared for the onslaught of freezing weather by equipping their iron steeds with anti-freeze, but there were enough shivering car owners peering under assorted hoods around town to indicate that plenty of them forgot."
Roving reporters observed many such sights but most notable involved a new 1949 automobile being towed by a hefty work horse.
That first week of January 1949 saw temperatures in the Minidoka Irrigation District at -2 degrees on Sunday, January 2; -21 on Monday; -22 on Tuesday; and -17 on Wednesday. Despite the extreme temperatures, the week’s snowfall totaled only 3.4 inches. Still nothing spectacular until “Old Man Winter” hit with another round of storms the following week. The January 18 edition of the Burley Bulletin reported:
"All highway traffic to and from Burley was cut off Friday night and Saturday by the drifting snow which was carried by 35 to 50 mile winds and deposited in huge drifts over the highways surrounding the town.
Greyhound and Trailways busses were stranded, and Empire Airlines had to bypass Burley, one of its scheduled stops. Skyways planes equipped with skis, were kept busy looking for stranded motorists and bands of sheep and cattle."
January 16 and 17 saw temperatures hitting -16 degrees both nights. By now, many had given up on driving their cars and returned to horse-and-buggy or horse-and-sleigh as a means of transportation. Brief respites between storms did little to raise hopes, as temperatures remained in the deep freeze and fears of more storms to come, in what was now being called a “Merciless” winter.
The Burley Bulletin, February 1, reported:
"What with atomic bombs, guided missiles, flying saucers, presidential inaugurations and the like, the weather must have decided it wasn't rating very high as a topic of conversation and decided to do something about it.
Result - Burley and most of the rest of the Western United States has one of the longest extreme cold spells in history; cattle and sheep freeze and starve to death; all-time low temperature readings are chalked up at many points in the western part of the nation; hay is flown to starving cattle; water supply is threatened in some towns; houses burned when frozen oil lines are being thawed; Burley has its own 'operation chicken-feed' to aid starving game birds."
During the week of February 1, ice on Little Wood River was reported to average 4 ½ feet thick, and the town of Shoshone implemented contingency plans to house and feed rural students if the roads closed before busses could take them home.
Snow fell on an almost daily basis, and each week saw an additional 5-6 inches along with temperatures dropping well below zero. From November through January, the weather service recorded 29 days with a minimum temperature reading of zero or below and 37 inches of snow with heavy winds that created drifts well over ten feet.
February came with a sense of relief, a belief and hope that the worst was over. Thoughts were now turning to the flood potential. But Old Man Winter pounded the area with one final, 3-day barrage that would prove to be the worst of the winter. It was a blizzard that would kill Kenneth Bright of Murtaugh and leave two of his friends in serious condition as they attempted to walk 23 miles to town when their car became stuck.
Driven by 35 to 50 mile per hour winds, snow buried the Western U.S. in what was now recognized as the worst storm on record. A caravan of 20 cars followed a snow plow to Rupert, but the cars at the end of the caravan became drifted in, so powerful was the storm. Those in the rear cars were forced to abandon their vehicles and move in with the lead cars.
KBIO radio broadcast appeals for rooms for stranded motorists, and the Burley and Rupert Chambers of Commerce issued appeals to residents to take in the stranded motorists, as the hotels were filled and “stranded motorists continued to pour in to the two towns."
A situation developed at the Coldwater area where 26 people and 20 cars were stranded for eight days. Among the stranded were Mr. and Mrs. Winder from Portland, Oregon, who gave an account of the ordeal.
"The Blakes housed 26 people and fed them all during the time of the stay at Bonanza Bar, food was plentiful. This was augmented by produce from a stalled truck, providing them with fresh celery, lettuce, radishes and oranges. Once during their stay there they had "roast turkey", which was one of the 20,000 lbs. of frozen turkeys that were being taken from Portland, Ore. to Omaho [sic], Neb...
Mr. Blake or 'Bud' had just killed a pig a few days before the storm struck there and a day before that had gotten his fresh meat out of his locker, so provisions were ample for all needs.
The biggest cause of discomfort was that there was only one bedroom in the house, so many people had to slep [sic] in chairs or draped over the counters.
The Winders report that a Mrs. Osborn, who had walked along with her husband and daughter through deep snow from upper Raft River to Bonanza Bar, had frozen her legs so badly that her nylon stockings had to be peeled from her legs. She was brought to Burley via plane and met at Burley airport by a car.
The Winders say that the first plane that flew to Bonanza Bar sustained a broken propeller and a second plane sent to the rescue fell into the river at that point. However, the pilot was able to extricate himself from the plane, which sank..."
Winter spread across the entire northern plains with far reaching effects, such as creating a slump in the potato market. The produce could not be shipped to markets, not only because rail service was interrupted, but the warehouses themselves were inaccessible and had not been opened for fear of freezing all the potatoes.
Don Dean, who lived in Twin Falls, gave me an account of his experience as a “cat skinner”:
"I was a new father and the first outing with our new son, a blizzard stopped us from getting home but we did make it to my parents’ home. When the roads were opened we went home but a few days later the wind closed the roads again. The neighbors got to town by going on the canal banks and roads that were not closed. They brought back word that I was to get to the Cat that I operated for a living. The County and other Government Agencies declared an emergency, and every one with the right type of machinery was asked to help clear the roads.
It was seven or eight miles to the Cat, and the next morning I started out. It seemed that every one along the way knew I was coming. They met me with car, truck, or tractor taking me as far as they could through the field or road. Then I walked to the next ride.
When I got to the Cat someone had stolen the battery and rope that we started the Cat with. The Cat was sitting out in the desert, three or four miles from a house, so I cut some wire from the electrical system to start it with. Tying a knot in one end to hold it on to the flywheel, I wrapped the other end around my hand. When I pulled the wire, it caught on the deck and dug into my hand. Blood spurted out of my glove, but it was too cold to look. I made the knot smaller and started the Cat. When I stopped after that first trip, I took off my glove to look at my hand. All the skin and meat was torn from my knuckles.
I had left my wife and baby at home without a car or telephone. One of my sisters hiked a couple of miles to stay with them, but it seemed as if every body else had something more important to do than getting my wife and baby to a safer place. Finally my dad and brother-in-law walked in and carried our baby out in a bushel basket.
That same day I had to open the road to the airport where about twelve cars were stranded. After I got them to the airport, I plowed a road out through the sagebrush to get water to a band of sheep. Then back to get cars from the airport to town in a blizzard. I got to the Highway Yard in Twin Falls some time that evening and parked the Cat in the shop. I didn't get down from the Cat right away so the men in the shop came to see if I was all right. The wind had blown on only one side of my face and I guess it looked like a piece of ice. I hadn't had time to shave for some time and we figured the whiskers had insulated my face and kept it from freezing.
I saw a thermometer that said -26 that morning. The wind blew all morning and at noon we left town, plowing roads as we went. The drifts were very uneven, some places ten feet deep, five feet away you could see the pavement. Some time that night a Wessal past us, trying to get some milk and baby food to someone. A Wessel was an Army vehicle with tracks and it traveled pretty fast over the top of the snow. Shortly after they passed us we came to a home, and the door flew open just before I ran over the Wessal. They had driven one track on the high drift of snow and the other was one on the pavement, causing it to tip over. We hooked the Cat on to it and set it upright. The oil had run out of it and they added some more oil and tried to start it. No luck. I ended up pulling it about a fourth of a mile before it started.
The farther we got from town the more pleased people were to see me. Most of them asked us in for coffee and cake or pie. If it was mealtime, we ate with them. One place where we stopped hadn't been to town for a month. They had chickens that were laying eggs and another neighbor had butchered a hog. Since they were not out of flour, salt, baking powder, or sugar, we had breakfast with them at four in the morning. Just as we were finishing another neighbor came in and invited us to his place for cake. We had to pass it up.
Then there was one place we stopped that had the biggest dog that I had ever seen. I had plowed their driveway out, got off the Cat and had started for the house when the dog got up in front of me. I went way around him, and the people told me they had a pair of dogs; they had hair or wool that the people combed off them and wove into clothing.
When clearing the streets in Hollister I broke a rail and my dad spent some time getting the railroad on the phone to repair it. The train ran to Wells [Nevada] tri-weekly; it had gone down to Wells but couldn’t get back because of the broken rail."
Throughout the region came stories of heroism, sometimes successful, sometimes futile. Brad Messer, a reporter for the Burley Bulletin, reported in the February 22 edition:
"I have just returned from a trip by plane to the snow-bound little community of Moulton [now a ghost town], which consists of a school and a couple of houses. The purpose of the flight was to drop fuel oil and food to the school teacher and ascertain if there was any other need at the moment. Word was received by Burnell Wrigley, assistant super-intendant of Cassia County schools, that Lillian Doldeer, the Moulton school teacher, was in need of supplies. This word had come by way of messenger on horseback.
The first attempt to reach Moulton [which had no contact with the outside world for over two weeks] was made by snow-plane, but the winds had been so strong that the ground was either swept clean or buried under deep drifts. A second attempt was then made, in which the supplies were dropped.
Thursday afternoon Roundy flew back to Moulton with five 5-gallon cans of fuel oil, and in another plane, piloted by Bob Hellig, two boxes of food and candy were carried. I rode along in the second plane, acting as bombardier when it was time to drop the boxes, and taking pictures as Ken released the cans of fuel oil...
As the plane carrying the cans of oil made the first run over the yard to drop supplies, the children who had been running about the yard in the snow and waving wildly, huddled close to the building near the teacher. At roof-top altitude, Ken Roundy let go the first can of oil so that it would land in a deep drift beside the school. After each run, as soon as the can had hit the snow, the children and the teacher would all wave...
When Roundy had dropped all the cans of fuel oil, I prepared to heave the first of the boxes of food as Bob piloted the plane into position. The children dashed out into the snow to get the packages so quickly that it appeared they had hold of them before the packages actually came to rest...
In the deep snow in the yard, a large 'O" had been trampled in the snow, in accordance with CAP signals, indicating food was needed. When we returned to the airport, Roundy notified Wrigley and plans were made to fly more food supplies to the marooned teacher and pupils, as soon as proper steps could be taken."
In Albion, approximately 75 men, 50 of whom were students from the Albion Normal College, shoveled a mile-and-half path to rescue Mrs. Edna Perrins, who had suffered a stroke.
"The snow proved too deep for the V-type plow, and several men tackled the job of helping the plow by hand with shovels about 6:30 p.m. Approximately 50 men students at the college [Albion Normal College] joined in the shovelling later, and a detour was made thru an adjoining field where the snow was not so deep.
Talfer said that it was 3:30 a.m. Thursday when the crew finally reached the bottom of the Albion hill on the View road side, and at 4:30 an ambulance arrived, following a plow that had cleared the road from the Springdale area.
The ambulance went on to Albion where Mrs. Perrins was placed aboard and taken to the Rupert hospital."
Two days after that final blizzard, temperatures hit 51 degrees, roads opened and the threat of flooding was very real. In Burley, the main concern was Goose Creek, which ran from northern Nevada and Trapper Creek to the Snake River and dissected our property. Farming and development filled in the channel following the construction of the Oakley Dam. Our family also owned the Grandview Grocery for the better part of a century:
"The Goose Creek channel has been obliterated and encroached on in many places because the creek is usually dry, and while the natural grade for it is to the northwest, the creek could come into town...
Old timers have called at The Herald-Bulletin office during the past week telling of flood waters being three and four feet deep around the present Grandview Grocery, and how rowboats were used on the main streets of Burley in past years."
And so ended the Winter of ’49.
Many of Idaho’s worst storms have been forgotten, and even now there is little talk of the 2016-2017 “snowpocolypse” - a winter in which I plowed through 5-foot-plus drifts to reach my pigeon loft. Yet more than 70 years have passed since the winter of 1949 and memories of the struggle, heroism, and tragedy remain, as they say, indelibly etched in memory.
Sources: The Burley Bulletin, Jan. 4, 1949 to Feb. 22, 1949; Minidoka County News, Dec. 3, 1948 to Feb. 24, 1949.