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What really happened on the circus train in 1918? Read the story of this tragedy for the entertainment industry of the time.

In the cool, pre-dawn hours on a June night in 1918, a train engineer closed his cab window as he chugged toward Hammond, Indiana. He drifted to sleep, and his train bore down on the idle Hagenbeck-Wallace Circus Train. Soon after, the sleeping engineer's locomotive plowed into the circus train. In the subsequent wreckage and blaze, more than two hundred circus performers were injured and eighty-six were killed, most of whom were interred in a mass grave in the Showmen's Rest section of Chicago's Woodlawn Cemetery. Join local historian Richard Lytle as he recounts, in the fullest retelling to date, the details of this tragedy and its role in the overall evolution and demise of a unique entertainment industry.

July 24, 1915 was supposed to be Chicago's social event of a lifetime, but turned into a tragedy unlike any other.

More than 7,000 people living in the Chicago area and Michigan City, Indiana, eagerly anticipated Saturday morning, July 24, 1915. This particular Saturday was going to be anything but a routine summer day. Plans had been carefully made for it to be the social and entertainment event of the year, and for some, a lifetime. The fifth annual midsummer excursion and picnic had been organized by the employees of the Western Electric Company's Hawthorne Works. Thousands of carefree merrymakers would enjoy a festive day including a lovely cruise across Lake Michigan to an awaiting parade and day-long picnic. The day would conclude with an evening cruise back to Chicago. For thousands of hard-working immigrant laborers and their families and friends, it was going to be a day to remember.

Instead, the day's scheduled event turned into a tragedy never before seen. The SS Eastland, while still tied to the wharf, rolled into the Chicago River with more than 2,500 passengers on board. Nearly 850 people lost their lives, including 22 entire families. The ensuing struggle for survival, and the resulting death, heroism, cowardice, greed, and scandal gripped the city of Chicago.

In 1948-49, Nebraska experienced a winter like never before. Brutal cold, unbearable winds and record snowfall made roads impassable and life difficult for locals. Farmers and ranchers struggled with hunger due to a dwindling supply of coal and food. The governor requested federal aid, and the U.S. Air Force dropped bales of hay into pastures for animals. Many locals perished in the weather, and icy roads forced the state to redesign and rebuild highways. Author Barry Seegebarth details the tragedy and courage of the Nebraska winter of 1948.

Chronicling the devastating Strand Theatre Fire of 1941 and celebrating the community's heroes and resilience in the face of adversity.

On March 10, 1941, at 12:38 a.m., the Brockton Fire Department responded to Fire Alarm Box 1311, which was pulled for a fire at the Strand Theatre. Fire Alarm dispatched the deputy chief, three engine companies, a ladder company and Squad A. Within six minutes, a second alarm was struck. Less than one hour after the first alarm, the roof of the Strand collapsed, and what appeared to be a routine fire turned into a disaster that killed 13 firefighters and injured more than 20 others. The disaster marks one of the largest losses of life to firefighters from a burning building collapse in the United States.

Southeast Minnesota has regularly felt the wrath of nature.

In 1890, a driving straight-line wind on Lake Pepin overturned the Sea Wing, killing ninety-eight people within minutes in the worst marine tragedy in Minnesota history. In 1940, a raging blizzard trapped duck hunters on islands in the Mississippi River and left motorists stranded across the region, leaving dozens injured or dead. Then, in 1965, flood waters of the Mississippi River and its vast network of tributaries kept area residents in fear for two months, shattering records for high water marks and destroying buildings and farmlands before receding and leaving behind damage that took years to rebuild.

Local author Steve Gardiner examines these powerful natural disasters and their ramifications on the people of Southeast Minnesota.

The fading memories of Greater Boston's Blizzard of 1978 return to life for those who experienced it and those who can only imagine.

The great blizzard of 1978 is an event seared in the memory of anyone who lived through it. Most of Greater Boston was quickly overwhelmed by the storm, which shut down all forms of transit, stranded thousands of cars and motorists along Route 128, and virtually shut down most of the state for a week. But for many coastal communities, the impact of the storm, which brought record high tides and pounding surf, was pure devastation. The common thread shared by almost everyone in the region was positive memories of neighbors and strangers helping each other and finding new bonds of community.

Greater Boston's Blizzard of 1978is illustrated with approximately 200 photographs from government archives and private collections and is told by author Alan R. Earls, who somehow managed to drive through the worst of the infamous storm.

The Blizzard of 1977 is still remembered in Western New York, especially in Buffalo, which received the brunt of the storm. The blizzard occurred during the most extreme cold the area had ever seen, accompanied by some of the largest winter snowfalls on record. The blizzard struck with little warning on Friday morning, January 28, 1977, and the blowing snow and extreme cold paralyzed the Buffalo area until the first week of February. The storm made travel impossible and stranded thousands of people across the region, while snowdrifts buried houses up to the second story. This is a story not only of survival, but also of community. Neighbors helped neighbors, radio stations relayed messages and provided crucial information, and countless individuals donated their time and equipment to bring needed medicine or food to shut-ins across the region.

The blizzard occurred during the most extreme cold the area had ever seen, accompanied by some of the largest winter snowfalls on record. The blizzard struck with little warning on Friday morning, January 28, 1977, and the blowing snow and extreme cold paralyzed the Buffalo area until the first week of February. The storm made travel impossible and stranded thousands of people across the region, while snowdrifts buried houses up to the second story. This is a story not only of survival, but also of community. Neighbors helped neighbors, radio stations relayed messages and provided crucial information, and countless individuals donated their time and equipment to bring needed medicine or food to shut-ins across the region

The Sunshine State has a rich maritime history spanning more than five centuries. Tragically, part of that history includes thousands of ships that have met their fates in Florida waters.

Potentially more than 5,000 shipwrecks reside off Florida's 1,200 miles of coastline, with hundreds more lost in the state's interior rivers. In and of itself, the Florida Keys archipelago, consisting of approximately 1,700 islands stretching 200 miles, is littered with the remains of close to 1,000 shipwrecks. In fact, many features of the Florida Keys were named after various shipwreck events, such as Fowey Rocks, which earned its name after the 1748 wrecking of the British warship HMS Fowey, and Alligator Reef, where the schooner USS Alligator met her demise in 1822. Florida's Shipwrecks utilizes captivating images to illustrate dramatic stories of danger and peril at sea, introducing readers to a fascinating cross-section of Florida's shipwreck history.

Ever since ships began navigating the coast of North Carolina, the area has maintained a reputation for being dangerous. Weather, geography, war, piracy, and human error have all contributed to this dense shipwreck zone.

Today, the region that stretches from the Currituck Outer Banks south to Bogue Banks is referred to as the "Graveyard of the Atlantic." From the 1585 grounding of the English ship Tiger off the Outer Banks to the 2012 loss of the Bounty, more than 2,000 shipwrecks have occurred in the Graveyard of the Atlantic. The stories behind the shipwrecks illustrate the best and worst of mankind, showing courage and compassion as well as the atrocities of war. This history informs readers about commerce, technology, war, environment, maritime life, and the complexity of the human element.

Sodaro's book reveals the deadly 1967 tornado that struck towns of Belvidere and Oak Lawn in northern Illinois and left a 16 mile long path of destruction.

The morning of April 21, 1967, was crisp and clear, marking the arrival of spring. As the day progressed, dark clouds covered the skies over Oak Lawn, and a deadly tornado touched down in the village just before 5:30 p.m. Cutting through the intersection of 95th Street and Southwest Highway and striking elsewhere, the storm left mountains of debris and over 30 people dead in its wake. Oak Lawn Community High School, St. Gerald Catholic Church, and the Fairway Super Mart were among the structures damaged or destroyed by the high winds. After the disaster, rescue workers and volunteers poured into Oak Lawn to search for survivors, while Christ Community Hospital and other institutions treated more than 400 injured people. The immense cleanup, which took weeks to complete, saw debris hauled out or disposed of in controlled fires. Despite the scope of the devastation, many of the affected structures were repaired or rebuilt within 12 months.

Author Janis Thornton reveals the stories of a day in Indiana like no other.

Palm Sunday 1965 started as the nicest day of the year, the kind of weather that encouraged Hoosiers to get out in the sun, fire up the grill, hit the golf course, or roll down their car windows and take a leisurely drive. That evening, however, throughout northern and central Indiana, the sky turned an ominous black, and storms moved in, quickly manifesting as Indiana's worst tornado outbreak. Within three hours, twisters, some a half-mile wide, ripped through seventeen counties, devastating communities and leaving death and destruction in their wake. When the tornadoes were finished with Indiana, 137 people were dead, hundreds were injured, and thousands more were forever changed.

Through firsthand accounts, interviews with survivors and a gripping collection of vintage photographs, author Michael Skidgell attempts to make sense of one of Hartford's worst tragedies.

Almost 7,000 fans eagerly packed into the Ringling Brothers big top on July 6, 1944. With a single careless act, an afternoon at the "Greatest Show on Earth" quickly became one of terror and tragedy as the paraffin-coated circus tent caught fire. Panicked crowds rushed for the few exits, but in minutes, the tent collapsed on those still struggling to escape below. A total of 168 lives were lost, many of them children, with many more injured and forever scarred by the events. Hartford and the surrounding communities reeled in the aftermath as investigators searched for the source of the fire and the responsible parties.

Sailing on the Chesapeake Bay's myriad inlets in summer, it is hard to imagine that come January icebreakers might be plowing the waters you cruised in July.

When portions of the Great Shellfish Bay are iced up the flow of commerce is impeded. At the turn of the 19th century, with the center of the new nation's government established in its arms, a frozen Bay meant that the United States' emergence to a status on par with the foremost nations of the world might be painfully slow. Throughout the 20th century years of extreme cold continued to halt navigation and fishing.

James Foster chronicles the disasters, large and small, which come with the coldest of winters.

Door County is the home to numerous shipwrecks of pleasure craft and steamers, on a photographic journey of the treacherous waters and those they have claimed.

Door County is the final resting place of many shipwrecks, from the first Euro American ship to sail the western Great Lakes, LaSalle's fabled Griffin that left Washington Island in 1679 never to be heard of again, to modern-day pleasure crafts that find the shallow inlets and bays hard to navigate. Door Peninsula Shipwrecks takes the reader on a photographic journey around the peninsula and back to a time of wooden ships and iron men. From Sturgeon Bay to the east coast of the peninsula to the northern islands and Green Bay, the journey encompasses early wooden sail craft to steel steamers, the brave sailors who sailed the treacherous waters, and the heroic lifesavers who rescued them.

Built by the City of Los Angeles' Bureau of Water Works and Supply, the failure of the St. Francis Dam on its first filling was the greatest American civil engineering failure of the 20th century. Beginning at dawn on the morning after the disaster, stunned local residents picked up their cameras to record the path of destruction, and professional photographers moved in to take images of the washed-out bridges, destroyed homes and buildings, Red Cross workers giving aid, and the massive clean-up that followed. The event was one of the worst disasters in California's history, second only to the San Francisco Earthquake and Fire.

Human action made one of the worst natural disasters in Indiana history even worse. Indiana and the Great Flood of 1913 reveals how this happened and how to avoid a similar fate in the future.

Indiana suffered enormous losses in the Great Flood of 1913, yet this disaster is largely forgotten. The combined tornado and flood barreled through Terre Haute, killing more than twenty. One hundred fourteen miles away in Peru, the circus lost most of its animals in the storm. At the southwestern corner of the state, a "sea of water,'? as local papers put it, washed over Evansville turning streets into canals. In the capital, levee failures left hundreds homeless and vulnerable to disease and famine. Pulling from archival photographs, newspapers, and local accounts, Dr. Nancy M. Germano shares stories from across the state to reveal how Indiana's history of settlement and development contributed to one of the state's worst disasters.

Central New York, a region renowned as one of the snowiest in the world, has a long and stormy relationship with its winters.

From the Lake Ontario port in Oswego to the busy streets of Syracuse and Utica, every community in the region has found themselves buried from brutal snowstorms.

Author Jim Fafaglia draws from personal memories, family diaries and newspaper accounts to craft a two-hundred year history of Central New York's whiteouts, blizzards and snowstorms.