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Born during the snow storm of 1950

By James Pletcher, Jr. 4 min read

Another snow bunny called. Last week, I mentioned in my column I was born during the paralyzing snowstorm of 1950. My mother called me her “snow bunny.’

Seems I’m not alone.

Marcy called to say she, too, was a snow bunny.

There are some people who can recall that storm. Naturally, having just been born, I have no idea what it was like. I rely on the stories, archives and other information passed along to me.

The storm commenced over the weekend prior to Nov. 27, 1950.

Marcy’s story was similar to mine. Her mother was trapped in her home by the heavy snow (at least up to three feet in places, according to press reports). She said her father bribed some local fellows to help him dig her out so he could get her to the hospital. Apparently the guerdon (how’s that for a new word) wasn’t cash but something more liquid, which probably helped them complete their chore in high spirits – if you know what I mean.

In my case, my mother was at home with my older brother (who would have been about two-and-a-half at the time) and her mother. We lived in the country, about eight miles from the nearest town and more than a mile from the closest neighbor. Dad was stuck at his parent’s home several miles away.

The house we lived in at the time was frame construction and this was long before insulation became the standard. Mother told me everyone huddled together in one bed while a fierce wind rocked the house, buffeted the walls and rattled the windows. My grandmother was terrified I was going to arrive at any moment. Dad finally made it home and got everyone safely to the hospital. Because he knew how to operate heavy equipment, he joined crews to open highways and dig people out. I arrived at about 3 a.m. on a Tuesday. It was a week before Dad could get back to the hospital to see his newest son. Mom said she was never more relieved to see him when he finally arrived because some of the other women in the hospital were beginning to whisper that maybe she wasn’t married.

Anyway, snow bunnies that survived that storm were fortunate. Scanning some of our archives here at the newspaper I learned the winter squall killed at least four people locally. One was an expectant mother who walked four blocks “through almost impassable snow,’ according to the news story, to a police patrol car that took her to the hospital. She died in childbirth and her baby was kept alive in an oxygen tent.

Two men succumbed to carbon monoxide poisoning after their car apparently became bogged down on a hill near Haydentown. They wrapped themselves in blankets but kept the engine running. A fourth man’s body was discovered in deep snow about a half-mile from his home in Ralph.

Everyone was called into service to try to clear away the snowfall. In Uniontown, volunteers joined what became know as “Operation Snow Shovel.’ Schools closed, traffic was halted, trolleys and trains stopped running. There was one news story about a local dairy that was getting only about 20 percent of its normal milk supply from area farmers. I’m sure local markets had been cleaned out, too.

When schools finally reopened, students had to walk in the streets to get to their classes because of the snow piled along sidewalks.

The opening of one story, written several days after the storm, said “Fayette County – the heart of the nation’s bituminous coal industry – today faced prospects of additional snow flurries and sub-normal temperatures for the sixth consecutive day.’

The account continued, “But in general the outlook is brighter. Main highways are ‘passable,’ train service almost ‘normal,’ and industry ready to ‘fire up.”

I have lived through other snowstorms, although none that could even come up to the 1950 storm’s ankles. And, for the most part, our winters are just about devoid of any major snowfall.

Of course, the storm of 1950 was heralded as one of the worst in the area’s history.

Could it happen again?

Probably. And if it does, I’ll have to deal with it directly this time, if you get my meaning.

Have a good day.

James Pletcher Jr. is Herald-Standard business editor. He can be reached at 724-439-7571 or by e-mail at jpletcher@heraldstandard.com.

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