The harrowing and disastrous January blizzard of 1888 was commemorated in Plankinton every January 12 with a winter dance. Now, 125 years later, both the local dance and the blizzard are forgotten history. Bringing back those memories, The Children’s Blizzard, a book by David Laskin, examines this remarkable episode of destructive weather. Describing the low-pressure system that brought arctic air to the barren prairie, Laskin presents fascinating accounts of people throughout the Midwest caught in this frightening blizzard.
How bad was it here in Aurora County? Newspaper accounts barely exist and official records don’t tell the local story. Due to the foresight of community members in 1983, several first person accounts were recorded for posterity in the Aurora County History, published by the Aurora County Historical Society.
According to those who remember, the day opened extra-warm, about 25 degrees above zero, with black clouds on the northwest horizon. Some report the day started with dense fog, others remember a lovely sunny morning. After weeks of deep cold, many farmers took advantage of this break in the temperature to water and feed their stock, moving them out of the barns and onto the plains. About ten o’clock in the morning, the weather changed suddenly and drastically, instantly dropping the temperature with forceful, freezing winds whirling the new-falling, blinding and suffocating snow.
Willis Shouse describes the moment the storm hit as he sat in his seat at the Plankinton schoolhouse, “The world was immediately wiped out so far as one could see. I peeked out at the howling mass of snow.” Fathers and businessmen found the school following fences and sidewalks, holding on to a rope as they walked the children to nearby homes where they spent the night. Shouse describes another strange phenomena of this storm as the students were lead out of the school, “Terrific electricity was in the air and we passed current of electricity through about 20 and then would draw long streams of fire from the nose of one not in the line, or hold a hand over the head of one not connected up and his hair would stand on end and sparks fly.”
Those caught in the storm used their ingenuity to survive, finding shelter by huddling up to the body of animals, finding cover in creek beds and hay stacks or by following corn rows, trees on a timber claim, and walls of buildings and sheds to reach the welcome warmth of a home or barn. One man was lead to safety by his dog. Another man and his son took cover in the pipestems of Firesteel Creek. Teachers kept the children in school or were rescued by parents who walked the children to the nearest home. Without phones and with so many children at school when the storm hit, parents could not know if their children were safe until the next morning. Many people caught outside or without enough fuel survived the storm but lost toes, fingers, legs and feet.
Ella Wilson tells this story of three men caught on the road from Plankinton to Mitchell. “When the storm struck and they couldn’t see to go on, they tied the horses on the side away from the storm and two of them kept from freezing by running around and around the sled until the storm ended, but Mr. Hilton decided he couldn’t so he sat in the sled. At dawn they saw a house about a quarter of a mile down the road and hitched up the horses. They had to carry Mr. Hilton to the house, both legs were frozen to the knees.” She continues, “As he sat with his legs in a tub of water on which ice formed as his legs thawed, he said he’d never let them take his legs off. He had them wrap him in blankets and take him home and miraculously his legs healed, but he was always a bit lame.”
Others in the county were not so lucky. Miss Fischer and two children of Mrs. Scott froze to death on the prairie. A Mrs. Jenson was found frozen in a field, while her 21-month old daughter was found dead in the home near a baby boy found alive in the cradle. A farmer, Mr. Dougherty, lost his way and his life.
By the next morning, temperatures were forty degrees below zero and the skies were clear. Laskin estimates the number of total deaths from this storm across the Midwest at 250-500. These first-hand, local reports indicate 112 people froze to death in South Dakota. In addition, Aurora County farmers lost 200 head of cattle in the storm.
Aurora County was very new when this storm occurred. Most of the families had arrived only five to eight years earlier to homestead virgin land on the open prairie. Living conditions were still quite primitive and people were just starting to build community. They were not prepared for such a catastrophe. The wide-open land, distance between homes, sudden drop in temperature, and pure, white-out conditions combined to produce a unique and harrowing episode in the lives of these pioneers. The annual dance remembered nature’s destruction in the terrifying blizzard of 1888, but, more importantly, the dance celebrated community survival on the prairie.
It Happened Right Here: The Great Blizzard of 1888, by Ruth Page Jones. Published in the South Dakota Mail, Plankinton, South Dakota, January 3, 2013.
RPJ Histories - Ruth Page Jones 