In the belly of the beast
(this is the first installment in a series of stories about Hurricane Sandy and the aftermath of the storm for one family in Rockaway.)
for video click here
The morning
high tide, the prelude of what was to come, came
down the street to the levels of Irene last year.
It is a pretty intense sight to see your street, Beach 119th
Street, a river flowing into a deeper river on Newport Ave.
However like last years’ storm the water wasn’t enough to come up my
driveway to my basement door. This
morning high tide was good for taking pictures but just like every other “storm
of the century” nothing for seasoned Rockawayites to worry about.
The only one who wanted to leave was Trish, and that was only because she
just got off work at the hospital at eight in the morning and wanted to go visit
her boyfriend Theo in Jersey.
Nobody wanted her to go for various reasons but she can be stubborn.
We convinced her to at least wait an hour for the high tide to recede
before heading out. In that time
period though, a few things happened to convince her to stay.
First our neighbors BMW got stuck in the river on Newport Ave.
It got flooded from underneath and lost all power.
We couldn’t get it out of park so it was stuck in the middle of
intersection. Trish was beginning
to realize that a long road trip was not wise.
So when the tide subsided we
drove around looking at the ocean at various points to see some damage and then
found higher ground to leave her car.
When we got back home preparations were under way for the evening Tiki
Party in my backyard. We even
inquired if the band Indaclulture could come to make the night’s Hurricane party
more memorable and festive.
In retrospect it would be fair to ask why?
Why after so many warnings from governors and mayors to mandatory
evacuate would anyone stay? Why
would 90% of Rockaway residents stay?
The answer is in the saying, “the boy who cried wolf.”
Every year we are warned of the “storm of the century” and every year it
turns out to be greatly exaggerated.
Especially last year, when many residents fled to upstate New York only
to be sent into the wrath of Hurricane Irene.
It’s not like we totally ignored the warnings.
We made sure we had flash lights, even though spare batteries were
impossible to find. We purchased
plenty of beer and ice and threw three
cases of water into the wagon. More
beer. Rita, Mikey and I even went
down to the beach and filled over forty sand bags which we strategically placed
around anywhere the water could attack.
We were way more prepared for any storm that we had ever seen in
Rockaway. We even raised some stuff
up in the garage and basement a few feet, not really thinking that it was
necessary.
As the afternoon turned toward evening, Brian
and Trish came down to the Tiki Bar for a pre Hurricane cordial.
I joined them as we cleaned up the bar and had a drink.
I was wondering where Mike, Liz and Kath were so I took a walk up front
and saw Mikey and Liz tying a tarp over the opening that led to under the porch
and the basement door. I noticed
that there was an inch of water in the street already.
Nothing to worry about, except that the next high tide wasn’t due for
over four hours. The wind started
gusting and my neighbor Kenny pointed out that my aluminum siding was beginning
to bubble with the wind. I went to
get the ladder, some long screws, and a screw gun in the garage.
Ryan Ford showed up to help but we realized that we had no chance as
pieces of siding started to tear off threatening to knock me off the ladder or
worse slice me. If the siding
didn’t throw me the winds might.
The problem with siding is that it is all interconnected so when one piece pulls
out, the pieces below it and above it start to go to a lesser degree until it is
there turn etc. We decided to
treat it like a wildfire and secure the siding 20ft. down the driveway by
cutting it free of the siding that had no hope of surviving.
Our plan worked to save the last quarter, but the damage was already
done.
That siding distraction, which only lasted 20
minutes, ended with a terrible
realization. Turning our attention
to the street , reality hit us like a cold ocean wave.
The water had risen to heights like we have never seen in Rockaway and we
were still over three hours away from high tide.
The party was over.
I raced back to get Brian and Trish from the
Tiki and into the house. An all
hands on deck was called to evacuate everything we could get from the basement.
Me, Rita, Brian, Trish, Mike, Liz and Kathleen were going to have to
defend the house from whatever Sandy was going to throw our way.
We frantically picked up all of Mikey and Liz’s belongings we could carry
and bring them to higher ground on the first floor living room floor, racing
against the water which had begun to breach the sandbag defense and was rising
on the floor under the porch toward the basement door.
The seven of us were like an assembly line carrying anything we could
lift. The water was rising at an unbelievable pace, climbing the basement door,
entering through the back walls and windows. We would never get everything out
so whatever was of value that we couldn’t carry we put as high as we could get
it. Water was getting in by the inch.
We had to kill the power in the basement but unfortunately our circuit
breaker boxes are not that clearly marked.
We flicked the breakers one by one attempting to identify which ones were
for the basement. Another problem
is that the way the house was originally wired some breakers controlled some
sockets in the basement and some upstairs.
We shut as many as we could and got flashlights.
The water could now be seen rising above the window level of the basement
door. The assembly line was over
when the lock on the door gave way by the weight and force of the ocean and a
four foot wave of water crashed through and roared through the apartment.
It was now time to for us to evacuate upstairs.
For a brief minute we were in shock at what had happened.
It all came so suddenly and we were in reactionary mode during it all
that we never had time to think of what was happening.
It was beginning to dawn on us that Rockaway would not be the same for a
long time. We were more amazed at
what was happening then scared, more excited than worried.
The implications for the future never crossed my mind, it was all about
the present and the next two, two and a half hours.
That was the time that Cubby told us the tide would peak.
There wasn’t much we could do until then, or so we thought.
We went outside to see how things looked in the street.
We watched as a white car on the corner sunk further and further into the
ocean. Debris floated past with the
ocean. We were no longer on a
peninsula; we were actually on a sand bar which was out in the ocean far from
the new shoreline somewhere in Howard Beach and Flatbush.
A 20 foot piece of boardwalk, totally intact, complete with railing on
both sides floated by like a raft heading from the ocean to the bayside.
Again more amazement. We
were resigned that the basement was ruined by now and felt pretty confident that
the first floor would be spared. We
felt that it was just a matter of wait for the tide to turn and then
theoretically the danger was over.
As we watched from the front porch the electric wires hanging over the street
started popping. Then sizzling,
then smoking and sometimes flaming.
We still had power at this point amazingly.
Do you smell smoke?
Yes I smell smoke and its coming from our basement.
Just like on the wires above the street our electrical box was starting
to crack snapple and pop. Smoke was
coming out of the wires. We stood
on the highest step we could without touching the ocean that was already four
feet deep in our basement. Brian,
the fireman son, extended himself over the water careful not to be in the water
and flipped the main breaker killing the power in the box.
In retrospect had we not stayed home and weathered the storm our house
would have been added to the long list of houses burned to the ground in
Rockaway and Breezy. Speaking
of which, it was apparent now that houses were burning all over Rockaway.
From the front porch you could see the orange glow in the sky somewhere
uptown. From the back deck you
could see the orange glow in the sky somewhere downtown toward the boulevard.
A bunch of us went up to Kathleen and Trish’s rooms to see if we could
determine where the fires were from that high vantage point.
Depth perception was difficult, the fires seemed like they were a block
or two away. In fact embers
were landing in our back and front yards.
We were worried that some might be coming from Tom Ford’s house, they
were coming from that direction.
Phones were still working and Facebook was flooded with rumors. “ St Frances de
Sales was burnt to the ground,” one
rumor said. (not true)
“The Harbor Light restaurant was burnt to the ground.”
(Unfortunately true) “The
Wharf was washed out to sea.”
(barely, but heavily damaged).
I
didn’t believe rumors in times like these.
Besides who could know such things unless you lived across the street
from the fire. Our street, the
water was now close to six feet deep.
Any cars that remained had disappeared either under the ocean, or floated
away to other blocks. Some landed
on top of other cars.
We felt relatively safe, unless the house collapsed or caught on fire we had a
long way to go to the third floor of the house.
If we had to evacuate we would have to swim for it though.
One fear we had in the light of the surrounding fires was the natural
gas. With the basement now filled
with over seven feet of water would any of the lines be compromised?
We never shut them down, one to the dryer, one to the oven in the
basement, one to the hot water heater.
A decision was made to shut off the gas coming into the house.
The valve though was 6 inches off the ground in the corner of the
basement. Someone would have to
swim under water with a wrench and shut the valve.
Once again Brian rose to the occasion and volunteered.
He stripped down naked and dove under.
On his first attempt he was able to adjust the wrench to the proper
fitting before he had to come up for air.
On the second attempt he nailed it and he was off to the showers.
The threat now was coming from two directions.
On the front deck the ocean had risen to the seventh and top step.
One more foot and it would be knocking on our front door.
In the stairs leading to the basement the water had risen to within two
bricks of entering our first floor hallway, and destroying our new apartment.
Kathleen and I were monitoring its progress every second.
We were almost at the high tide time that Cubby had given us but how
accurate was that? Was it exactly
or give or take a half hour depending on where you are?
And what about a big wave?
We were technically no longer on land.
We were actually in the ocean.
We were in a house built on a sand bar.
And the sand bar was too deep to stand.
It was time for a precautionary evacuation to the second floor.
We rallied the troops again, moving the most precious items up to the
second floor in case the water again attacked.
All the while Kath and I were monitoring the progress of the water up the
basement brick wall and the front steps.
Could it be true. It appears
the water is lower in the basement.
I can see the third brick now. We
ran to check the front steps. Yes,
it was receding. We had weathered
the storm! There was catastrophic
damage all over Rockaway and the north east coast, but for our little house, we
were safe. I didn’t even begin to
think about how bad things were.
Just how happy we were that it wasn’t going to get any worse.
Tomorrow and for months ahead I had no idea what was in store for us and
the community but that was not on my mind at all.
We all cracked a beer, and said a prayer thanking God for keeping us
safe. Then we played a board game
while the fires raged and the ocean receded outside and inside our doors.
We drank and played for hours and one by one we went to sleep.
We decided that one person though had to stay awake at all times to make
sure the flying embers of the raging neighborhood fires didn’t set our house on
fire. End of day one?
No. About three in the
morning, Liz was hearing growling sounds coming from the sink bathtub and toilet
bowl. Mikey didn’t believe her,
more out of exhaustion and not having to deal with anything anymore.
Then Liz noticed that water was spurting out of the radiator.
Mikey jumped up and woke up Brian, Kath, and Trish.
They tried closing the valves on the radiators, but it wasn’t working.
Trish covered her valve with
towels and screamed at the water to stop.
To no avail. They didn’t
want to wake me up, but they realized that there was no other choice.
Especially when Liz yelled at them that, “its your father’s house you
better wake him. I had the
same reaction as Mikey. I didn’t
really want to hear about it. I had
enough. Let the house fall down was
my attitude. But I begrudgedly got
up. What could be causing this I
pondered half asleep and more than half drunk.
We had this problem in the past, when we were filling the oil heater with
water and forgot to shut the water.
We went downstairs to the basement to investigate with flashlight in hand.
The water was down to three feet deep.
That was good. We stood on
the stairs above the water and shined the flashlight toward the oil burner.
Sure enough the valve was open.
How could this have happened?
Brian again volunteered to walk through the water and shut the valve.
He found the answer floating on top of the water.
Mikey’s mattress had been floating near the ceiling during the flood and
as the water went down the mattress was lowered onto the valve and pushed it
down. Whew.
Enough already. When
we wake up tomorrow, we will face reality.