Showing posts with label 1913. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1913. Show all posts

Friday, September 1, 2017

The Monster Blizzard of 1913 and Giveaway

Blogger: Amber Schamel

Denver 1913 Blizzard
Used by permission of Denver Public Library
Colorado is known for lots of snow, but the blizzard of 1913 was not our regular winter blizzard. In fact, it still holds the record yet today. I had a great time researching the event for my latest book. It was so much fun to research a city I grew up near and knew so well to see how it looked 100 years ago.

December 1913 decided to make a grand entrance. A light snow and rain began to fall on the 1st but left only an inch or two on December 2nd. The storm died down on the morning of the 3rd, and everyone thought it was just the typical storm. But in the late afternoon, the clouds thickened. Renewed with unforeseen vigor, the blizzard let loose during the night of December 3. The massive storm system deposited over 45.7 inches of snow in a matter of two or three days. But the biggest problem in Colorado is not merely the amount of snow, but the blowing winds that create monster drifts that could engulf livestock, cars, houses, and nearly anything in its way.
A boy on Skis
Used by permission of Denver Public Library
The snow was heavy and wet dumping what is estimated to be 38,887,619,004 pounds of water. Structures collapsed, all transportation came to a screeching halt, and survival became priority. The greatest concern was for the poor population that wouldn’t have enough coal to keep warm and couldn’t get out to find more.

Georgetown, Colorado was hit the hardest by the blizzard with 86 inches of snow.

But even with all that disruption, Coloradans didn’t lose their sense of humor. Denver Post Headlines claimed “Shimmering White Stops Activity and Everyone Jollifies!” Apparently somebody was jollifying, because they’d built a snowman in the driver’s seat of someone’s stranded vehicle, making for one of the cutest pictures in the historical record.


Used by permission of the
Denver Public Library

One of the most interesting things I discovered during my research of this event was the snow removal process. Unfortunately, Denver during 1913 had no supply of diesel plow trucks as they do today. So they had to employ a different method.
Using wagons to move snow.
Used by permission of Denver Public Library
Since the entire city was shut down, the tramway hired any man who would work to come dig out the snow. Men swarmed the streets, shoveling snow into barrels, dumping into wagons, and hauling outside the city or to any open space that could accommodate the slush. 


You can see the whole collection of pictures on the Denver Public Library Website.
 
In the long run, the blizzard made a huge positive impact on the Colorado economy. Skiing was just coming into fashion when the storm hit, and the massive amounts of snow in Colorado made it a prime place to learn. The 1913 blizzard is credited with kicking off the ski industry in the state.


The historic blizzard plays a big part in my newest book, Solve by Christmas which just released yesterday! Click here to check it out on Amazon. 

AND I'll be giving away one ebook copy to someone who leaves me a comment today! Tell me about the most extreme weather you've experienced for your chance to win! 
 *****
 Amber Schamel writes riveting stories that bring HIStory to life. She has a passion for travel, history, books and her Savior. This combination results in what her readers call "historical fiction at its finest".  Her title, Dawn of Liberty, was awarded the 2017 CSPA Book of the Year award in Historical Fiction. She lives in Colorado and spends half her time volunteering in the Ozarks. Amber is a proud member of the American Christian Fiction Writers Association. Visit her online at www.AmberSchamel.com/ and download a FREE story by subscribing to her Newsletter!

Saturday, March 25, 2017

1913 Italian Hall Massacre



At the turn of the century, the most prosperous copper mines in the world were in the Keweenaw Peninsula in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. Many of these were owned by the Calumet and Hecla Mining Company of Chicago (C&H), and from 1871 through 1880, the mines produced more than half of the United States’ copper.


Raw Copper

At the peak of production, the mines employed approximately 15,000 miners. Working conditions were poor, at best, and deadly, at worst. Due to the long hours, dangerous condition, and low pay, the Western Federation of Miners Union (W.F.M.) established a local office in the area in the year 1908. Though because miners were under the constant threat of C&H thugs, it wasn't until 1913 that the W.F.M. had a large enough membership to effectively strike.

During the strike of 1913, many of the miners and their families lived in the Calumet/Red Jacket area. Times were tough. The striking workers didn’t receive benefits during the strike, and the people’s finances suffered along with the optimism of the workers.
Dangerous, one-man mining


Many knew Christmas would be lean that year and wanted something to raise the holiday spirits of the town folks. A Christmas party, sponsored by the Ladies Auxiliary of the Western Federation of Miners, was planned. The ladies meant for the gathering to boost the morale of the striking workers, and the festivities were more than just a time of fellowship, but also an attempt to bring the people together and encourage one another to fight the good fight.

On Christmas Eve, 1913, on the second floor of the Italian Hall in Calumet Michigan, over four-hundred striking workers and their families gathered together. Wives huddled in groups at the food and beverage table trading recipes with one another and bragging on children. Husbands gathered in small groups and spoke of the hard times of the past and the better times to come. Children ran from one side of the hall to the other, chasing each other until they could no longer catch their breath or a parent waggled a finger in their direction as a sign to slow down. The mood remained light and festive and the people bonded in camaraderie. 


  
The Italian Hall, Calumet, MI
Until someone shouted, “fire!”.

Suddenly, horror ensued. Poorly-marked fire escapes on one side of the building and precarious, emergency-ladders located at the back of the building, which could be only be reached by climbing through the windows, left mothers and fathers frantic to get their children to safety as quickly as possible.

So, everyone—all four-hundred terrified people—panicked and ran for the narrow staircase leading outside. Little did they know the exterior doors wouldn’t open. The party goers packed tighter and tighter into the stairwell, crushing those who were first to enter.

Though highly debated, it’s been reported that the doors opened inward, but other reliable reports and supporting photos suggest that the exterior doors opened outward and were bolted from the outside by the ruffians attempting to get workers back in the mines.
  
Funeral march for those who perished

The true heartbreak of the false alarm is the deaths of 73 people. This number includes 59 children who tragically lost their lives on Christmas Eve, 1913.

In the first of several investigations into the disaster, the coroner’s inquest forced witnesses who did not speak English to answer their questions in English without an interpreter. After only three days, the coroner issued a ruling that stated no cause of death.

Then in early 1914, the United States’ House of Representatives arrived in Copper Country to probe the strike and the Italian Hall disaster. This time, twenty witnesses testified with the proper interpreters and under oath.

Eight of the twenty witnesses swore that the man who cried "fire" wore a “Citizens' Alliance” (a mine owner’s group) button on his coat.
  
Italian Hall Memorial

No one was ever prosecuted nor were any indictments made. The Italian Hall was demolished in 1984. Today, only the archway to the old hall remains.

This horrific story seems to be founded on greed and power, and those who perished should never be forgotten.





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Award winning author, Michele Morris’s love for historical fiction began when she first read Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House book series. She grew up riding horses and spending her free time in the woods of mid-Michigan. Married to her high school sweetheart, they are living happily-ever-after with their six children, three in-loves, and seven grandchildren in Florida, the sunshine state. Michele loves to hear from readers on Facebook, Twitter, and through the group blog, Heroes, Heroines, and History at HHHistory.com