Sometimes the Best Isn't Good Enough

Saturday, 11 July 1896 - Galveston, Texas

Many have asked why no one was warned in time to flee the 1900 Hurricane that devastated Galveston. Had the U.S. Weather Bureau fallen down on the job? Were they not paying attention?

The U.S. Weather Bureau has a main outpost here on Galveston Island. I decided to visit it office. The weather service is in its infancy with new offices cropping up all the time. They government has a problem with some of them being run shoddily.

Dr. Isaac Cline

Not so with this office. It appeared very business-like with a flurry of activity. The place was full of equipment, desks and five chaps in suits. A very serious-looking man of about thirty-five with a dapper mustache greeted me and introduced himself as Dr. Isaac Cline. I told him I was a freelance journalist. I wanted to do an article on the U.S. Weather Service for the folks back in England.

“Certainly, sir, you may interview me if you do not mind constant interruptions.” As if on cue, the phone rang. He talked to the person on the other end while I sat there. When he hung up, he smiled at me. “Ah, I see you are still here. You are welcome to ask me questions, but I won’t stop working.”

I told him that was quite all right, if he didn’t mind I would follow him about, observing him, until he chased me off. I asked him how he ever got interested in weather.

Cline said there hadn't been a weather service when he was a boy. He was the oldest of eight children growing up on a farm in the Smokey Mountains. His folks weren’t rich and he knew he would have to make his own way. He left home at sixteen to attend Hiwassee College in Tennessee. He had to take odd jobs to pay for his tuition. “At first I studied to be a preacher, but decided I was too prone to tell big stories. Then I considered a degree in law, but learned I was not good at evading facts. I needed a career where I could tell big stories and tell the truth.”

General William Hazen

The US Weather Service started out as a part of the Army Signal Corp. The Chief Signal Officer General William Hazen envisioned a troop of college-trained personnel commissioned into the US Army. Hazen contacted college presidents, asking them to recommend likely candidates. J.H. Bruner asked Cline, who now had a Master’s degree but no real direction, if he would be interested. “I jumped at the chance!”

The Signal Corp was part of the Calvary, so Cline was taught horsemanship. Then he had to learn how to signal with flags, torches and heliographs. He not only had to study how to send a telegraph, but how to repair and setup one, too.

That was just the beginning. The recruits were taught everything then known about meteorology by the top experts of the day. The courses came at them so fast and furious that many could not keep up.

Weather stations were opening up faster than they could be filled. One day the recruits were all given a tough exam. The top sixteen, with the highest grades, would be sent out as assistants with high probability of advancement in the near future. Cline came out 16th highest and was sent to Little Rock, Arkansas.

“I had to take measurements and weather observations several times a day from five in the morning until eleven at night. I also had to decipher raw data telegraphed from Washington and write up bulletins for the farmers and businessmen. I also did a study on the local locust outbreak and how that might be affected by weather. Luckily for the farmers, the plague ended. Unlucky for me, because I then got bored.”

“Bored?” I asked. “I would think working eighteen hours a day would be exhausting.”

“It wasn’t hard labor. There was a lot of free time in between. I had heard stories of how some lads put that free time to shady endeavors. I wanted to do something that would be useful. The office was only three blocks from one of the best medical schools in the country. The effects of weather and climate on health and medicine had had very little research. I decided that would be a good avenue of pursuit. So I got a medical degree.”

Becoming a doctor seemed an extravagant hobby to me. “Have you been able to do much research?”

Cline then told me all about the course he taught on Medical Climatology at Texas Medical College here in Galveston. In 1893 he gave thirty lectures, the first fifteen being on the science of Meteorology since his class was medical students. The next fifteen being on how weather affects certain diseases and body functions. He was quite excited because he was preparing his lectures to be published as a textbook later this year. “When I was a boy a read Jules Verne. I decided someday I would write a book on a science subject that would help mankind.”

Checking my history files later I found out that this coming November his finished manuscript and his reference material will all be lost when his house burns down. Undaunted he will start over, just to have the second manuscript swept out to sea.

After Little Rock, Cline’s next assignment was in a tiny weather station in Concho, Texas, where he not only headed it, but was also the staff. The office was in a cottage that was also his living quarters. It was decided moving the office to the growing city of Abilene made more sense.

“That’s where I met Cora May. She is the most beautiful, brilliant and cultured woman I have ever known. She could have had any man, but she wanted me.” Cline pointed to a framed photo he had on his desk of a woman with three young girls. His serious expression softened as he picked it up. It was evident the man was madly in love with his wife.

In 1889 the Signal Corp decided to setup an office in the booming city of Galveston and make it the head of the Texas Section of the US Weather Service. In 1891 the Weather Service was switched from the Army to the Department of Agriculture, becoming the US Weather Bureau.

Cline said he liked Galveston. Besides teaching at the Texas Medical College, he also taught Sunday School and just this year got a Doctor of Philosophy degree from AddRan Male and Female College. His younger brother, Joseph, had come to join him as an assistant four years ago. He has been living with Cline and his family. He said his brother showed real promise and was a diligent worker.

A typical weather Bureau office in the 1890s

Cline then went into detail about what he and his assistants did to predict the weather. He showed me some of the instruments. He said one of their major duties is to predict storms coming into land. I asked him if he thought Galveston might be hit by a hurricane sometime in the future.

He laughed at the idea. “Galveston doesn’t get tropical cyclones. We get with high winds and rain, but no cyclones. Besides the Gulf has a long slope. Any incoming surf would be broken up and made less dangerous. Even if we did get a storm pushing a high surf or a storm tide, this water would simply flow past Galveston into the bay behind the island and into the Texas Prairie. I know a few years back there was a big discussion about whether or not to build a seawall. I wrote the editor of the Galveston News and assured him it would be a waste of money. Anyone who believes otherwise is the victim of an absurd delusion.”

I managed not to show any emotion at that statement. If I hadn’t known the future, I think his argument would have convinced me. The truth is he has never seen a hurricane or the destruction it is capable of. Few in Galveston have.

And that was the problem on 8 September 1900. According to all the reports Cline got, according to all his equipment, this squall was just a tropical storm. There would be some wind damage, but that was nothing new. By the time it became evident this was a hurricane bearing down on them, all the bridges had been washed away. So he hoisted the hurricane flags without Washington’s permission, an action that could have cost him his job.

It wasn’t the wind that destroyed Galveston, it was the storm surge. Water came rushing from the Gulf like an overflowing bathtub, flooding the entire island. Ironically the few buildings that survived were saved by the hurricane itself. Homes closer to shore were shoved inland forming their own sort of seawall for a lucky few. Even so, every building suffered some damage.

Cline will build his new home next year to survive any storm. What it won’t survive is the iron trestle that the waves will slam into it. His house, his family, and his fifty neighbors seeking refuge in his home will become part of the flotsam.

Cora May and the girls

The rushing water will nearly drown him. When he finds the surface he’ll discover his youngest daughter, then six, and save her. They will cling to debris until by a miracle he will find a makeshift raft with his brother and two other daughters on it. Joseph will have jumped out of the window of the house, but not without first grabbing his two eldest nieces, then 11 and 12. They never do find Cora May. She and her unborn child are swept out to sea to become one of the 6,000 to 12,000 fatalities.

Despite physical injury and emotional trauma, both Isaac and Joseph will show up for work on the 9th as soon as the water resides. They will finally give in to their injuries and be hospitalized. The Bureau will praise Isaac Cline for going against orders to hoist the hurricane flag which did save some lives. As a reward, Isaac Cline was sent to New Orleans to head the new regional office.

In 1903 he will get in trouble with his superiors by issuing a warning that the Mississippi River would rise 21 feet in the next few weeks. They told him it was nonsense. It rose 20.7 feet. The Bureau was livid, but Louisiana would not let them reassign him. After predicting another flood in 1912 and saving many lives, the new Bureau head told him to issue all the warnings he wanted.

Isaac M. Cline award

Cline made a study of hurricanes, accurately predicting the 1915 one that hit New Orleans, saving thousands of lives. He wrote a book in 1926 called Tropical Cyclones with all the research he had gathered. He even predicted the Great Flood of 1927 two weeks ahead of time. Dr. Isaac Cline is considered one of the great pioneers of Meteorology with 53 years of service. Starting in 1999 the US Weather Bureau will give out an annual award to employees for exceptional contributions. It is their highest honor. They will call it the Isaac M. Cline Award.

Few in Galveston blamed Isaac Cline for not warning them in time. It wasn’t like he was derelict in his duties. How many in Galveston would have taken a warning seriously if he had issued it? They might not have had Cline’s equipment, but they had eyes. At first it looked like any other tropical storm. No one remembered a hurricane hitting Galveston.

What if he had advocated a seawall before the storm? Would that have saved Galveston? Maybe not. I’m sure it would have been much lower than the 17 foot wall they built after the 1900 storm. And even that won’t be high enough to hold back Hurricane Ike in 2008.

Some call Isaac Cline a villain for having the hubris to trust science. Some call Isaac Cline a hero for doing what he could. The truth is Isaac Cline will be just another victim of the 1900 Storm. He will spend the rest of his life studying hurricanes so the Galceston tragedy would never be repeated.

And now I nurse a cup of tea, remembering that photo of Cora May. And remembering all the other lost souls yet to be.

First Citizen of Texas

Friday, 26 June 1896 - Galveston, Texas

Today I ran into the man Woodrow Wilson would one day call “the First Citizen of Texas.” Perhaps more accurately he nearly ran into me. I’m afraid I wasn’t paying attention when I stepped off the curb. A bicyclist smoking a cigar and wearing a dark mustache, frock coat and fedora came around the corner and nearly ran over me!

Henry Cohen

The poor fellow swerved in time and missed me. He stopped, apologizing profusely. His accent was part Southern without out the slow drawl. He spoke so quickly his tongue tripped over it in a slight stutter. There was also something very familiar about his accent.

“No please,” I said. “It was all my fault. I do apologize, my good man.”

He peered at me with those bright eyes. “I-Is that an English accent?”

“Yes, Cambridge.” I stuck out my hand.

He took it and shook it. “London, myself. Born and raised there. Name is Henry Cohen.”

“Wait a tick!” I peered at him. “I thought you looked familiar. Aren’t you the Rabbi?”

“Yes, I am.”

Temple B'nai Israel in Galveston

“I attended your service at the synagogue about two weeks ago. Erm, where is your prayer shawl and kippah?”

“I’m not presiding over a service now, am I? I’m a Reform Jew.”

“How in the world did a London Jew wind up in Galveston, Texas?”

“Now that is a long story. What do you say I buy a fellow Englishman a spot of tea?”

I followed the friendly chap to a nearby café. He had to tip his hat and say hello to almost everyone we passed. Everyone seemed to know him.

“Is this the Jewish section of town?” I asked.

He gave me an odd look. “No, I don’t know if any group of folks dominates in this neighborhood.” He tipped his hat to an African-American gentleman. As we passed by, Cohen grinned at me. “Now, I know Reverend Jefferson is not Jewish.”

“Everyone seems to know you.”

“I am a Jewish Rabbi but first I’m a citizen of Galveston. I believe it’s my duty to help out anyone where I can. And everyone seems to bring their problems to me. I believe I am what you would call a Yenta.”

“Yenta?”

“Busybody.” He chuckled. “I’m sorry, but if I see someone in trouble I just feel obliged to help them.”

Benjamin Disraeli
1st Earl of Beaconsfield

We made it to the café. I got Cohen to tell me his life story, which was anything but dull. Born is London in 1863, he was the son immigrants from Poland. While only fifteen Cohen got a job with the Board of Guardians who administered relief to the poor. At night he attended Jews College. One chap who frequented the Board was so impressed with the boy’s hard work that he nicknamed him “Little Henry.” Needless to say, Cohen was awestruck that the former Prime Minister, Benjamin Disraeli even noticed him.

“I grew up in a country where a Jewish boy could grow-up to become anything--even an English lord.”

“Why did you leave England?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Sense of adventure maybe. I decided to become a Rabbi, but when I was 18, I decided to take a break from my studies. So I went to Kimberly, South Africa and got a job in a dry goods store to pay my expenses. I’ve always been good with languages, so I picked up Zulu. I got so good the British army hired be as a part-time interpreter. But they insisted I learn how to use a rifle.

“Once when they troops were gone, the Zulus attacked the town. I was handed a rifle and drafted as a defender to hold off the natives until the army could return. I made a terrible soldier. I couldn’t bring myself to shoot anyone. So a Zulu warrior grabbed my rifle out of my hands and hit me over the head with it. Left a scar--see?” He pulled back his hair to show me.

“I take it you survived.”

“Yes, but unfortunately I found out I was on the list of fatalities. My parents had given me a shivah--a mourning ceremony. Needless to say my parents were overjoyed to find out I was still alive.

“Exactly two years later I returned to London and finished out my studies. I graduated a year later and got my first assignment down in Jamaica.” He shook his head. “It was there I learned what anti-Semitism was.”

“Oh dear. Was it the folks of European or African descent that were anti-Semitic?”

“Neither. It was the Jews themselves.” Cohen looked disgusted. “Kingston had just had a terrible fire that had destroyed both of it’s synagogues. The two congregations decided to pool their resources. And I wound up in the middle.”

“Were they Reform and Orthodox?”

“I think that would have been easier. They would have tried to work out their differences and respect each other. No, this was Sephardic and Ashkenazi Jews. I would give a service in Sephardic one Sabbath and then Ashkenazi the next. That didn’t make them happy. They both wanted it their way all the time. When I told my landlady that my parents were from Poland, she said she would kill herself if she found out she had one drop of Ashkenazi in her.”

“That’s horrible!”

“Yes, I couldn’t believe the stupidity. What is really strange it’s not religion they argued about, but slight variations in customs. I was so glad to get away from there. Problem was I really didn’t want to return home. My parents were Orthodox and I was leaning toward Reform. Then I heard a congregation in Woodville, Mississippi was looking for a rabbi--even one who was only a minister.”

“You’re not really a rabbi.”

“Not officially. England didn’t have any schools that could ordain a rabbi--a legal translator of the law. I couldn’t afford to go overseas to a school that could. In America in the South and out West, the Jewish communities are just so glad to have a teacher. Minister is close enough to a true Rabbi for them. However, they do call me rabbi anyway.”

“But Mississippi? Aren’t they prejudice there?”

“No. The Jews got along with each other and they got along with their Christian neighbors. In fact, the Christian businessmen wouldn’t open their shops on Saturday until after the Sabbath service. Some of them would even attend. They didn’t want to convert, they just liked my sermons. They were polite, so we welcomed them. I really liked Woodville, but it was a small town. They only had eighteen Jewish families. So in ‘88 when I got an offer from Congregation B’nai Israel here in Galveston, I would be a fool not to take it.

“Galveston is a very nice place, too. People accept Jews here. Did you know I was recently invited to a banquet for Cardinal Satelli to say the blessing? I did it in Latin. I think I was the only non-Catholic there. How many places would do that? I’m part of the community. They like me, I like them. I’ll probably stay here the rest of my life.”

Yes, Henry Cohen will. He will be very lucky in the 1900 hurricane. Not only will he and his wife and two children survive, but his home and synagogue will suffer minimal damage. In fact he will offer it to four ministers who had their churches destroyed, so they can have services on Sundays until they can rebuild. That will be the least of his help in rebuilding Galveston.

Galveston After the 1900 Hurricane

As soon as the storm let up, Henry Cohen was out to help the less fortunate. He found a wagon and mules and started scrounging for food and medical supplies, and headed for the hospitals. He helped Clara Barton and the Red Cross set up tents. When the Governor created an official Central Relief Committee several days later, he appointed Cohen the head. Why not? He was already the unofficial head.

As I mentioned before it will be estimated that 6,000 to 12,000 died in the 1900 hurricane. There was never an accurate count of the dead bodies. No one knows how many were swept out to sea. Also add to that those who just up and left, fleeing from the horror or just out of necessity, having lost their home and livelihood. Most buildings were smashed and the few standing were damaged. Galveston was quickly becoming a ghost town.

What Galveston needed was labor to clean up and rebuild. Poor Jews from Eastern Europe were pouring into New York, only to find crowded slums and no jobs. Cohen campaigned to bring them to Galveston. 10,000 came and he shook hands with everyone of them and helped them get settled. He helped other immigrants as well from Greece, Italy and Mexico.

Rabbi Cohen greeting immigrants
as they step off the ship
(that's him, second from the left)

Here is an example to give you an idea of the lengths Cohen would go to help out an immigrant. A ship came in from Russia full of Jews. However, they found a stow away onboard. Having no papers and coming into the country illegally, he faced immediate deportation. The poor fellow begged them not to. He was a political refuge. He would be shot for the crime of not agreeing with the government if they sent him back.

Cohen told the authorities to postpone deportation and he would get him amnesty. The rabbi, without stopping to pack, jumped on the first train to Washington, D.C. When he got there he jumped into a cab and went straight to the White House. At this point Henry Cohen was probably the most famous rabbi in America, so President Taft agreed to see him. Cohen pleaded the stowaway’s case. Taft shook his head. “If I make an exception for a Jew I will have to make it for everyone.” “Jew, hell,” Cohen responded. “The man is Greek Orthodox.” The amazed President Taft allowed the stowaway to stay in the country.

Henry Cohen
 years from now

Cohen will go on to be appointed on the state commission for prisons, bringing about many reforms. He will help raise the State’s age of consent from ten years to eighteen, making seducing ten years old statutory rape. In World War One he will join the army as a lieutenant, and help convince them of the need for Jewish Chaplains. In the 1920’s he will take on the Klu Klux Klan. (They never had a chance.)

He will work on so many committees and organizations, both locally and nationally, that he will become the most famous rabbi in America. Indeed, the U.S. Post Office will reroute all overseas mail addressed to “Rabbi Henry Cohen--United States of America” directly to Galveston.

Meanwhile he will remain rabbi of Congregation B'nai Israel for 64 years, until his death in 1952 at the age of 89. He will also remain a “busybody” helping anyone who needs it, no matter their religion, race, or social station.

Rabbi Henry Cohen pulled out his watch and shook his head. “I best be going. I have to a lot to do.” And he was off and running.

I watched him jump on his bicycle and speed away. I had to smile. Yes, he does have a lot to do--and somehow he will get it all done.



Here is a lecture Rabbi Henry Cohen gave at the Medical Department, University of Texas:
Hygiene and Medicine of the Talmud
(Did I mention Cohen took it upon himself to create the medical school’s first student loan fund?)

One of the many monographs Cohen wrote on the history of Jews in Texas: The Settlement of Jews in Texas

This plaque was erected in 1980 by the State of Texas in front of the Galveston Courthouse. It reads:
Rabbi Henry Cohen (1863-1952), called the "First Citizen of Texas" by U.S. President Woodrow Wilson, Rabbi Henry Cohen, an internationally known humanitarian, was born in London, England. He came to Galveston in 1888 as spiritual leader of Congregation B'Nai Israel and served for 64 years until his death.

In 1889 he married Mollie Levy (1862-1951) and they had two children. After the disastrous storm of 1900, Texas Governor Joseph D. Sayers appointed Rabbi Cohen to head the Central Relief Committee. From 1907 until World War I he helped shiploads of immigrants become settled in cities around the country. During World War I he was instrumental in influencing congress to provide Jewish Naval Chaplains. Appointed to the Texas Prison Board by Governor Dan Moody, Rabbi Cohen introduced measures for more humane treatment of prisoners. He assisted New York slum residents in Galveston today.

When Rabbi Cohen died, the Commissioners Court of Galveston County called him one of the country's greatest humanitarians and spiritual leaders.

Isle of Doom

Friday, 12 June 1896 - Galveston, Texas, USA

For years the University of Texas has been begging me to go back and record the city of Galveston at it’s zenith. I didn’t feel I could put them off any longer. You may wonder why I balked at visiting this beautiful Victorian boomtown. I will explain, but first let me tell you something of this remarkable city.

Galveston Island is a barrier island off the coast of Texas in the Gulf of Mexico. It is twenty-seven miles long and only three miles long at it’s widest spot. It is really little more than a sand bar.

Although discovered by Amerindians millennia ago, the Island was officially discovered by the Spanish explorer Juan de Grijalva, when he ran aground on it in 1528. He named it "Isla de Malhado" ("Isle of Doom").

Apparently, it wasn’t until 1785 that anyone looked behind the island and found a huge bay there. In a well thought out career move, José de Evia named it after the Count of Gálvez, the viceroy of New Spain.

Jean Lafitte the pirate & "founding father"
(at least historians think this is Lafitte)

The first European settlement here was built in 1816 by pirates. Jean Lafitte had been sent by the US military to Galveston to spy on the Spanish. Instead Lafitte started his own colony of 100 to 200 buccaneers, until the US Navy booted everyone off in 1821.

By 1825, the island was no longer Spain’s but Mexico’s, who established the Port of Galveston and built a custom’s house. Then Texas revolted against Mexico, taking over the island and making it the port of the Republic of Texas’s navy.

Finally in 1830, the city of modern Galveston was founded by Michael Menard, a Canadian. It started out as an international city. Galveston is known as the “Ellis Island of the West.” Most immigrants from Europe heading for the western states come here instead of New York City. Many go no further than Galveston, not because they are poor and can’t afford train fare, but because they smell opportunity. A large portion of the newcomers are middle class.

downtown Galveston in the 1890s

Galveston is currently the busiest port in the Gulf of Mexico, surpassing even New Orleans. Indeed the only port in the US bigger is New York City. It is one of the largest cotton processors and shippers. It is the largest city in Texas and it‘s cultural center. Texas’s first telephone, gas lights, electric lights, opera house, post office, orphanage, Masonic Lodge, medical college, cotton compress, naval base, etc. were all in Galveston.

The population in 1890 was 23,000. By 1900 it will be 37,789. Galveston is a booming commercial center where the future is limitless. There is a great optimism in the air. Victorian mansions are springing up all around, attesting to the city’s prosperity. And it will all be swept away in one night.

As I said, Galveston is little more than a sandbar. It’s highest point is only eight feet above sea level. There is currently no seawall. Even if they had built one, it would probably not be high enough.

On 8 September 1900, Galveston will hunker down for a tropical storm. Too late they learn it is in fact a category four hurricane with winds estimated at 125 miles per hour. (We don’t know the actual speed. The anemometer will be blown off the local U.S. Weather Bureau building.)

What the winds don’t knock down, the 15-foot-high storm-surge waves will. The entire city will be flooded, as people cling to floating debris. It is estimated that 6,000 to 12,000 people will die (8,000 is the official number), making it the deadliest natural disaster in U.S. history!

Galveston after the 1900 hurricane

Why did it outdo stronger hurricanes? It’s 1900. There are no satellites to follow the storm. There isn’t even ship to shore radio for captains caught in hurricanes to warn those on land. Even though Isaac Cline, one of the top weathermen in the country, lives in Galveston, he only has Victorian technology to aid him. By the time Galveston realized what was coming, it was too late to evacuate the island. And outside of multi-story buildings that may or may not standup, there is no high ground to run to. Few buildings will even be left standing.

Despite this, Galveston will arise from the ashes, just as a much smaller phoenix. She will become a resort town, evoking her pirate roots during prohibition with boot-leg alcohol and prostitution. It won’t be until the 1950s before she gets cleaned up. Hardly the future her citizens now see for this shining city.

And that is why I have been putting off this project. It’s hard to look into the eyes of someone knowing they will die soon and not be able to warn them of the hurricane. It’s part of being a Temporal Anthropologist and knowing what the future brings. I will be walking about this city unable to warn anyone. Would they even listen to me if I was allowed to tell them?

University of Texas wanted me to come here in the summer of 1900, but that was too close. I gave myself a four year buffer. Instead of looking in every face and knowing that a horrible fate awaits him, I can console myself that he has at least four years of happiness and maybe won’t be here in 1900.

Still I will be looking up some of the more famous citizens, knowing their terrible future. This will not be an easy assignment.


Days after the event, Thomas Edison's film studio recorded some of the clean-up, making this some of the world's first "newsreels." video

An excellent documentary on the 1900 Galveston Hurricane:
Isaac's Storm
Although done in good taste, it is about a horrific event. You may not wish to watch.
(And yes, I know the last bit is missing on part 8.)