The first post in this two-part series concluded by observing that Peter D, Sarah, and their kids probably did not realize the severity of the 12 January 1888 Children’s Blizzard until some time later. How can we know this? The newspaper accounts of the day hint that that was the case.
The 14 January 1888 issue of the Aurora News-Register, which was published just two days after the storm, mentions the blizzard and its effects in a sort of light-hearted manner. The paper writes (page 5):
A week of sleighing.
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That was a regular old fashioned rip snorter of a blizzard Thursday.
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The trains were all abandoned Thursday afternoon on the B. & M. lines here.
Five days later, on 19 January 1888, exactly one week after the storm, reports of losses were beginning to trickle in. The Aurora Republican, for example, reported (page 8):
J. B. Cain, southwest of this place, has lost 25 head of hogs on account of the blizzards of late.
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Mr. C. Weliver reports the loss of three hogs during the blizzard, also the loss of eleven more by Mr. Ottergreen.
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Considerable stock perished in the blizzard of January 12.
That same newspaper issue also offers the first reference to the loss of human life:
During the late blizzards a number of lives lost, have been reported from Dakota and other places.
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In another place will be found an account of the worst blizzard that ever struck Nebraska. The blizzard of 1873 was longer in duration, but not so cold and terrific as the late blizzards—up to date, it is reported that 130 lives have been lost on account of it.
It appears that the “another place” referenced was on page 1 of the same issue, which contains the following report:
The Blizzard Fatalities.
MINNEAPOLIS, Minn. Jan. 17.—The Evening Journal’s revised list of the blizzard fatalities shows 97 dead in Dakota, 18 in Minnesota, 6 in Iowa, 17 in Nebraska, and 2 in Montana. Total, 135, besides 55 reported missing.
Specials from various portions of Wisconsin indicate that Sunday night was the coldest in years. The thermometer at Washburn observatory, in Madison, registered 30 deg. below, Eau Claire reports 48 below, Richland Center 55, Sparta 50, and Chippewa Falls 60.
The 21 January 1888 issue of the Aurora Sun offered additional details:
The late blizzard was the fiercest and most destructive of any like storm for many years. The loss of life all over the west was something appalling. Not less than 200 lives were lost, perhaps many more. Nebraska suffered rather severely. No lives were lost in this county. At Neligh five men named Stickle froze to death while four were looking for the other; a man named Gloze, a boy named Miller, at Plainview Miss Royce, schoolma’am, started home with three children and they all died on the way, while Miss Royce froze both feet so they will have to be amputated. At Foster, Henry Kreckhafer and his son froze to death 80 rods [440 yards] from the house. At Fremont two school children were froze to death. At Tekamah Chas. Gray and one other party. One at Beatrice, and here and there everywhere turns up a victim of the raging storm.
Coverage of the storm by East Coast papers demonstrate just how much a national story the blizzard was. The 15 January 1888 New York Times, for example, devoted several columns on page 1 to reports of the storm’s effects in places such as Watertown, Dakota; Minneapolis, Minnesota; Sioux Falls, Dakota; Garrison, Nebraska; and St. Joseph, Missouri. The Omaha report recounts the following:
Reports of the effects of the terrible blizzard of Thursday night throughout Nebraska are beginning to come in, and they show that the amount of suffering was something terrible. Hundreds of people were badly frozen, several got lost in the storm, and a few deaths are reported. In Gage County John Sparks, a farmer, is missing and cannot be found. He was at Beatrice, 12 miles away, and started home. His team turned up all right, and it is thought he has perished in the snow. Ed and Charley Maxwell, living in the same county, also had a narrow escape from freezing to death. They tried to go a distance of two miles, but got lost and had to camp all night in a hay stack. Charley's feet and legs were badly frozen and one horse died. Near Sutton an old man name Mathews got lost in going from his house to the stable, not over 20 rods [110 yards] distant, and perished. Frank Skinner, a railroad man, attempted to walk home from Sutton, 10 miles, where his child lay dead, but would have died himself had he not by accident fallen into a shed among a lot of calves and sheep, where he remained until morning.
About six miles from Sutton the storm overtook Mrs. Campbell and Maggie Skirving, two young women, who were driving home from town in a buggy, and they were soon hopelessly lost. Fortunately the team ran against an old sod house, in which they took shelter for the night, but suffered badly from frozen feet, hands, and faces. At Schuyler M. Cline, a farmer, started to go to the schoolhouse after his children, and has not been heard of since. John Miller, a farmer, near Columbus, got lost while trying to corral his stock, tramped the prairie in a circle all night. There are numerous reports of stock perishing and other disasters.
Contemporary accounts of the suffering inflicted and the loss exacted by the Children’s Blizzard could be multiplied. The reference to Sutton in the last account strikes particularly close to home, since that was only 10 miles south of the Buller family farm.
However, news in late nineteenth-century Nebraska did not travel as quickly or as widely as it does today, and it is most likely that many rural residents did not learn of the severity of the storm until much later. That would explain the, once again, light-hearted tone of the “Henderson Clippings,” a report of local news by an amateur correspondent writing under the nom de plume Dulcie, in the 25 January 1888 issue of the York Republican (page 2):
Fearing you would think us snowed under I write to let you know that we are still on top of the drift.
The only thing of importance this week is a genuine old blizzard—coming down from—well we don’t now exactly where, but it came just the same, from a northwesterdly direction. Some drifts are upwards of ten feet deep, while good sleighing will be had for some time on the level. A good many farmers lost stock more or less. Some wandered away in the blinding storm and has not yet been found. Fortunately for stock and owners alike it was not very cold. The thermometer not registering much below zero, while Sunday it was down to 32 below. Trains were stopped from the 12th to the 15th, partly on account of the snow storm, and partly on account of a wreck which had occured [sic] a short distance west of Henderson. All of the train men were thrown to the ground. The engineer received slight injuries. Help came and took the wreck back on Sunday.
Supposing you have all realized that we have had a snow storm.
Although we have no evidence for what Peter D, Sarah, and their children knew about the blizzard and its deadly effects, it seems most likely that their concern was mostly local, perhaps even with the wreck on the train tracks that lay a mere half-mile north of their farmstead. Perhaps someday we will find more evidence, whether in a diary or a letter to a loved one, of their experience during the Children’s Blizzard of 1888. Until then, we can only imagine both their worries and their gratitude for having everyone, including their livestock, safe during such a terrible ordeal.
For additional reading on the Children’s Blizzard, see the Nebraska State Historical Society article here.
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