The Winter of 1856-57, Iowa's Most Severe Ever

LARRABEE

Posted By: Marilyn Holmes
Date: 9/29/2014 at 17:08:07

Oskaloosa (IA) Daily Herald
Saturday, Dec. 14, 1968

THE WINTER OF 1856-57,
IOWA'S MOST SEVERE EVER

By Bernice Ott
Special Staff Writer

The most severe winter ever experienced in Iowa occurred during 1856-57.

The October 15, 1856, issue of the Oskaloosa Herald chronicled the following sure signs of a long, hard winter; bee hives overflowing with honey, husks on the corn extra thick, fur of all animals very heavy, squirrels putting away more nuts than ever before, and rats traveling east in great numbers.

Sure enough, early in November, snowstorms began, one after another, blanketing the countryside, blotting out roads and covering fences. In their wake, strong, icy winds howled across the prairie day and night.

By the second week in December, the temperature dropped to below zero, where it remained for more than four weeks.

On that bleak Christmas day, the mercury stood at 22 degrees below zero. The snow continued to fall day and night, while the gusty winds packed it into mountainous drifts. Not a windmill remained standing. Horses, cattle and sheep were left to take care of themselves. They drifted with the wind and snow, sometimes 15 or 20 miles away in a direct line with the storm.

The pioneer families, imprisoned in their cabins, watched the whirling snow, hard-driven by blasts of ruthless wind, which seemed to come endlessly from the darkened sky.

Half-starved wolves prowled around the cabins, seizing pigs, sheep and poultry. Deer, prairie chickens and quail died by the thousands. Almost every farmer in the northern part of the state lost most or all of his stock. One farmer in Humboldt county reported that 300 of his flock of 400 sheep perished. Small animals starved to death in their burrows.

Often the storms became so severe and the snow so blinding that it was impossible to see more than three or four feet. A trip to the woodpile was sometimes so hazardous that a wise man secured a long rope to the house before venturing out, and tied the other end around his waist.

The scattered families in the sparsely populated part of northern Iowa, described as "a desert of snow," suffered the most. Many of them were new settlers -- some from foreign lands -- who had arrived too late to raise crops during the preceeding summer.

A few of them had not even finished their log cabins when the first blizzard began. Their food supplies dwindled, and as the storms continued day after day, they became completely isolated, ill and lonely. More often than not, they had little hope of surviving the winter.

A story is told about two young brothers in a large family living near Charles City, who took it upon themselves to hunt in the nearby woods to replenish the family's food supply. After they had been gone a short time, the storm increased in intensity. Soon they became lost and wandered about for hours, unable to find their way out of the woods.

When brother Will saw that Frank was getting drowsy and ready to give up, Will grabbed him by the collar and forced him to walk on and on, until they finally stumbled to a settler's cabin. Will's hand had frozen fast to Frank's collar, and had to be amputated.

A Black Hawk county pioneer wrote an account of the fierce blizzard of December 21, 1856, which came up while several families were attending church.

He described the air as looking blue, and told of a sound like loud humming just before the storm reached its height. The terrified families huddled together in the church, unable to return to their homes for three days.

By the first of January, cabins were covered to their roof-tops. Tunnels were dug to get out. On January 9, after more than five weeks of almost constant snow, the temperature suddenly rose to 50 degrees.

Then came a torrential rainstorm, which lasted over eight hours, followed by a drop in the temperature to 20 below zero. A thick coating of ice covered everything, causing even more hardship and distress for the weary people and half-dead animals.

A sfory is told about a young man who lost his way in a blinding snowstorm in northern Iowa on the last day of the year of 1856. With the temperature at 20 below zero, the wind was blowing a gale.

He had nearly given up hope of surviving when he saw a flicker of light shining from what appeared to be a large snowdrift. He made his way toward the light, which proved to be a candle in the window of a half-buried settler's cabin, where he was taken in, more dead than alive.

Two young boys in the family pulled off his boots, while a pail of warm water was brought to thaw his frozen hands and feet. After a hot supper he was put to bed by the fire. By morning he was on his way to recovery but it was a close call.

The young man was William Larrabee, who later became governor of Iowa.