POWER OF A HURRICANE: Nellie Collins sifts through debris at her demolished house at Misquamicut after the Hurricane of 1938.
12.19.99
Rhode Island's worst maritime disaster of the 20th century occurred on Feb. 11, 1907, when the ferry Larchmont was hit on its Providence-to-New York run by a coal-hauling schooner off Watch Hill. About 200 passengers went down with the ship; 77 bodies were recovered, many frozen solid.
Who knew the flu could be so deadly?
In a few short months in 1918 and 1919, more than 20 million died around the world; of the 600,000 Americans killed, 2,300 were in Rhode Island. The flu killed more soldiers during World War I than the guns did.
The Spanish flu pandemic was the worst of the century's medical plagues -- at least until AIDS emerged in the 1980s. It's a rare family even today that didn't lose a great-uncle or other kin to "the plague of the Spanish Lady.''
To this day, scientists aren't sure what made the 1918 strain so deadly. And they are uneasily aware that it could happen again.
Up until the 1950s, when Dr. Jonas Salk developed the vaccine that he so generously refused to patent, polio terrified the country. The best-known victim was President Franklin D. Roosevelt, who spent most of his time in a wheelchair and could barely stand, even with help.
In Rhode Island, patients like 9-year-old Eddie Leahy, above, needed braces to bring his paralyzed muscles back to strength. On the right, he stands as straight as he can, alone; on the left, a brace holds him upright.
It was a century of tremendous advances in medicine, from the smallpox vaccine to open-heart surgery and the MRI.
Yet there is still no cure for AIDS, which now infects at least 33 million people worldwide, including 688,000 in the United States. Unlike flu, it's a slow-moving disease, often taking 10 years or more to kill victims. So far 14 million have died, including 410,000 in the United States.
And by the end of the 1990s, politicians were once again preoccupied with skyrocketing health care costs, crumbling health insurance programs, and what to do about the 44 million Americans (including 75,000 Rhode Islanders) who have no insurance.
In the days before the Weather Channel, major storms could wreak havoc by sneaking up on people before they could defend themselves. That's just what happened to Rhode Island when the Hurricane of 1938 struck at 3:30 p.m. Sept. 21.
A 30-foot tidal surge hit the coast and rolled up into downtown Providence, killing more than 300 people and causing more than $100 million in damage.
Most of those killed were in the Westerly-Charlestown area. In the photo above, Nellie Collins sifts through debris at her demolished house at Misquamicut. Out of some 500 houses in her neighborhood, only five escaped damage.
The streets of downtown Providence were flooded by more than 7 feet of water; cars were swept away by the waves.
The damage stretched from Napatree Point off Westerly (which was swept clean of houses) to the mills of Woonsocket.
One reason the death toll was so high was that so many people ignored public safety officials' calls to evacuate, opting instead to ride out the storm out in their homes.
Woonsocket's Social District survived the Hurricane of 1938, and Hurricane Carol in 1954. But when two storms hit in quick succession in 1955 -- Hurricane Connie and Hurricane Diane -- the saturated ground could hold no more, and the subsequent flooding destroyed the heart of French Woonsocket.
Much of Providence's black community was clustered in a few blocks on the city's East Side in a neighborhood known as Lippitt Hill . It was a stable, working-class area that was targeted in the late 1950s and early 1960s for urban renewal -- or people removal. Tenements were razed to make way for the University Heights apartments and shopping center. The destruction of Lippitt Hill forced blacks to move to other areas, mostly in South Providence.
The saddest Christmas season in Providence College history was in 1977.
Ten college women died in a fire on Dec. 13 that engulfed the fourth floor of Aquinas Hall, a dormitory that had been elaborately decorated for Christmas.
Two hairdryers apparently ignited the decorations; the tragedy led to a national outcry for safer college dorms. Rhode Island was one of several states to impose tougher fire codes on college buildings.
No event of the 1970s lives on in the minds of Rhode Islanders like the Blizzard of 1978. It began modestly on Feb. 6 with a few flurries at 10:10 a.m., picked up force and didn't end until 10:44 p.m. -- the next day. Route 95 was a frozen parking lot, with about 2,000 cars and trucks locked in place, some buried to their roofs. Three thousand cars had to be towed from city streets to clear the way for plows. The deepest snowfall in the state was in Woonsocket and Lincoln, where 54 inches fell.
Rhode Island's worst maritime disaster of the 20th century occurred on Feb. 11, 1907, when the ferry Larchmont was hit on its Providence-to-New York run by a coal-hauling schooner off Watch Hill. About 200 passengers went down with the ship; 77 bodies were recovered, many frozen solid.
Who knew the flu could be so deadly?
In a few short months in 1918 and 1919, more than 20 million died around the world; of the 600,000 Americans killed, 2,300 were in Rhode Island. The flu killed more soldiers during World War I than the guns did.
The Spanish flu pandemic was the worst of the century's medical plagues -- at least until AIDS emerged in the 1980s. It's a rare family even today that didn't lose a great-uncle or other kin to "the plague of the Spanish Lady.''
To this day, scientists aren't sure what made the 1918 strain so deadly. And they are uneasily aware that it could happen again.
Up until the 1950s, when Dr. Jonas Salk developed the vaccine that he so generously refused to patent, polio terrified the country. The best-known victim was President Franklin D. Roosevelt, who spent most of his time in a wheelchair and could barely stand, even with help.
In Rhode Island, patients like 9-year-old Eddie Leahy, above, needed braces to bring his paralyzed muscles back to strength. On the right, he stands as straight as he can, alone; on the left, a brace holds him upright.
It was a century of tremendous advances in medicine, from the smallpox vaccine to open-heart surgery and the MRI.
Yet there is still no cure for AIDS, which now infects at least 33 million people worldwide, including 688,000 in the United States. Unlike flu, it's a slow-moving disease, often taking 10 years or more to kill victims. So far 14 million have died, including 410,000 in the United States.
And by the end of the 1990s, politicians were once again preoccupied with skyrocketing health care costs, crumbling health insurance programs, and what to do about the 44 million Americans (including 75,000 Rhode Islanders) who have no insurance.
In the days before the Weather Channel, major storms could wreak havoc by sneaking up on people before they could defend themselves. That's just what happened to Rhode Island when the Hurricane of 1938 struck at 3:30 p.m. Sept. 21.
A 30-foot tidal surge hit the coast and rolled up into downtown Providence, killing more than 300 people and causing more than $100 million in damage.
Most of those killed were in the Westerly-Charlestown area. In the photo above, Nellie Collins sifts through debris at her demolished house at Misquamicut. Out of some 500 houses in her neighborhood, only five escaped damage.
The streets of downtown Providence were flooded by more than 7 feet of water; cars were swept away by the waves.
The damage stretched from Napatree Point off Westerly (which was swept clean of houses) to the mills of Woonsocket.
One reason the death toll was so high was that so many people ignored public safety officials' calls to evacuate, opting instead to ride out the storm out in their homes.
Woonsocket's Social District survived the Hurricane of 1938, and Hurricane Carol in 1954. But when two storms hit in quick succession in 1955 -- Hurricane Connie and Hurricane Diane -- the saturated ground could hold no more, and the subsequent flooding destroyed the heart of French Woonsocket.
Much of Providence's black community was clustered in a few blocks on the city's East Side in a neighborhood known as Lippitt Hill . It was a stable, working-class area that was targeted in the late 1950s and early 1960s for urban renewal -- or people removal. Tenements were razed to make way for the University Heights apartments and shopping center. The destruction of Lippitt Hill forced blacks to move to other areas, mostly in South Providence.
The saddest Christmas season in Providence College history was in 1977.
Ten college women died in a fire on Dec. 13 that engulfed the fourth floor of Aquinas Hall, a dormitory that had been elaborately decorated for Christmas.
Two hairdryers apparently ignited the decorations; the tragedy led to a national outcry for safer college dorms. Rhode Island was one of several states to impose tougher fire codes on college buildings.
No event of the 1970s lives on in the minds of Rhode Islanders like the Blizzard of 1978. It began modestly on Feb. 6 with a few flurries at 10:10 a.m., picked up force and didn't end until 10:44 p.m. -- the next day. Route 95 was a frozen parking lot, with about 2,000 cars and trucks locked in place, some buried to their roofs. Three thousand cars had to be towed from city streets to clear the way for plows. The deepest snowfall in the state was in Woonsocket and Lincoln, where 54 inches fell.
A
yearlong Providence Journal series about life in Rhode Island.
Produced
in cooperation with the Rhode Island Historical Society.
Copyright
© 1999 The Providence Journal Company
Produced by
www.projo.com