Disaster

Get a first-hand account and fascinating new details of the story behind The Finest Hours, the film portraying the harrowing rescue of the SS Pendleton in 1952.

On February 18, 1952, off the coast of Cape Cod, a fierce nor'easter snapped in half two 503-foot oil tankers, the Pendleton and the Fort Mercer. Human grace and grit, leadership and endurance prevail as Theresa Mitchell Barbo and Captain W. Russell Webster (Ret.) recount the historic, heroic rescue of thirty-two merchant mariners from the sinking Pendleton by four young Coast Guardsmen aboard the 36-foot motor lifeboat CG36500. A foreword by former Commandant Admiral Thad Allen (Ret.) and an essay by Master Chief John ""Jack"" Downey (Ret.), a veteran of thousands of modern-day small boat rescues, round out the special third edition of this classic work on Coast Guard history.

Beginning on Easter Sunday, March 23, 1913, Columbus and the Ohio Valley endured a downpour that would produce the largest flood in one hundred years. Heavy rains came on the heels of an especially cold winter, resulting in a torrent of runoff over saturated and frozen ground. Rivers and streams quickly overflowed and levees failed, sending tsunami-like floodwater into unsuspecting communities and claiming four hundred lives. There were ninety-six deaths in Columbus alone when the swollen Scioto River emptied water that ran nine to seventeen feet deep through the streets of the near west side. Join Conrade C. Hinds and the Columbus Landmarks Foundation in a closer look at a flood disaster that reshaped the American Midwest.

For the first time under one cover, here are the tales of Cleveland's greatest blizzards, most destructive tornados, nastiest snowstorms and worst floods--and so much more. A pseudo tidal wave once pounded the Lake Erie shore from Bay Village to the Pennsylvania border. A phantom ice age caused scientists to predict that glaciers would soon return to Cleveland. A river burned, mayflies swarmed the downtown area by the millions, credible UFO sightings are still unexplained and a June blizzard raged in the city. Citizens perfected the art of throwing rocks at volunteer firefighters. Secret assistance in developing the atomic bomb created a radioactive neighborhood. Join Cleveland author Alan F. Dutka as he explores intriguing stories of famous and lesser-known Forest City disasters.

Families watched in horror as walls of water swept away homes and businesses, and men held onto saplings for their lives while the winds howled.

The destruction was beyond belief. Buildings on Atsena Otie were swept away so completely that only cracked stone foundations remained, and the forests of red cedar that gave the islands their name and livelihood were flattened. Resulting in dozens of deaths and millions of dollars in damage, Hurricane Number 4 in 1896 changed the Cedar Keys forever and set the city on a path to the present. Historian Alvin F. Oickle, drawing on firsthand accounts and extensive archival research, tells the story of ordinary Floridians who were faced, like so many before and so many since, with nature's fury.

For passengers of the steamboat Wawaset, August 8, 1873, began with a pleasant cruise from Washington, D.C., down the Potomac River. As the Wawaset came into sight of a small Virginia landing, fire broke out below decks, and frantic passengers leapt from the flames only to be pulled down by the swift waters. Author Alvin F. Oickle puts a human face to the tragedy as he profiles some of the seventy-five who perished, among them young mother Alethea Gray and six members of the Reed family. With a fast-paced style and firsthand accounts, Oickle masterfully narrates the last run of the Wawaset against the backdrop of a tense post-Civil War society.

With its rocky coast and treacherous shoals, shipwrecks were a common occurrence in nineteenth-century Massachusetts. Few claimed as many lives as the City of Columbus. The night was clear and the route familiar for Captain Schuyler Wright and his experienced crew as they sailed a ship equipped with the latest technology. Yet with all this, the City of Columbus went down with 103 souls. Over a century later, Eric Takakjian and the Quest Marine Services team located the wreckage of the City of Columbus on the north ledge of the Devil's Bridge, off the southern tip of Gay Head. Historian Thomas Dresser takes us into the icy waters of the Atlantic as he recounts the terrible chain of events that led to disaster on that fateful night.

The National was once the grandest hotel in the capital. In 1857, it twice hosted President-elect James Buchanan and his advisors, and on both occasions, most of the party was quickly stricken by an acute illness. Over the course of several months, hundreds fell ill, and over thirty died from what became known as the National Hotel disease. Buchanan barely recovered enough to give his inauguration speech. Rumors ran rampant across the city and the nation. Some claimed that the illness was born of a sewage effluvia," while others darkly speculated about an assassination attempt by either abolitionists or southern slaveowners intent on war. Author Kerry Walters investigates the mysteries of the National Hotel disease."

In 1844, the USS Princeton" was the most technologically sophisticated warship in the world. Its captain, Robert Stockton, and President John Tyler were both zealous expansionists, and they hoped that it would be the forerunner in a formidable steam-powered fleet. On a Potomac cruise intended to impress power brokers, the ship's main gun--the Peacemaker--exploded as the vessel neared Mount Vernon. Eight died horribly, while twenty others were injured. Two of Tyler's most important cabinet members were instantly lost, and the president himself had a near miss--making it the worst physical disaster to befall a presidential administration. The tragedy set off an unpredictable wave of events that cost Tyler a second term, nearly scuttled plans to add Texas to the Union and stirred up sectional rancor that drove the nation closer to civil war. Author Kerry Walters chronicles this little-known disaster that altered the course of the nation's history."

Jan Johnson provides a definitive account of Galveston's fight against outbreaks of Yellow Fever, which transformed an island paradise into the City of Dreadful Death.

In the summer of Galveston's founding year, a mysterious malady accompanied by black vomit descended upon the inhabitants. Names for the devastating plague came quick and fast as the body count rose. Saffron Scourge. Bronze John. Yellow Jack. Yellow Fever. The disease's cause and cure remained elusive, as did the medical institutions Galveston would need treat the illness. Four thousand souls perished in nine epidemics between 1839 and 1867. By the time of Galveston's final Yellow Fever outbreak in 1903, however, residents were better informed and equipped. Discover the key figures and pivotal events of the island city's experience with the mosquito-borne disease.

While World War I raged in Europe, America scrambled to supply the Allies with ammunition, and several munitions plants were constructed near the Jersey Shore. The hastily built plants hummed with hardly a mishap until the fateful night of October 4, 1918, when a series of explosions killed one hundred people. Firemen and other volunteers were powerless to stop the destruction as it devastated the Morgan-South Amboy area and terrified the surrounding region. Strangely, though, this woeful disaster has been forgotten by history. New Jersey historian Randall Gabrielan re-creates this terrifying night and its aftermath in the context of Middlesex County's role in the Great War.