Buffalo: Camaraderie and Tragedy

"It's William McKinley's revenge," muttered one Buffalo resident as he squinted through the slits of his frosted face-mask at the snow-encrusted monument to the President who was assassinated in the city in 1901. That explanation made as much sense as any. The 435,000 inhabitants of what local CBers call Nickel City could not help wondering why they and their rural neighbors had been selected for the vengeful Winter of '77's most punishing assault so far. In fact, Buffalo's location on a narrow peninsula, where it catches moisture-laden winds off Lake Erie, contributes to its singular attraction for snow. Since fall, Buffalo has been smothered by an incredible 14 feet of snowfall. Last week drifts as high as 30 feet buried the roads in the area, paralyzing all business and movement. Winds up to 85 m.p.h. generated a numbing chill factor of -60DEG, and 22 people died in the cold.

The worst blizzard in the city's history had howled with little warning across Lake Erie and trapped 17,000 workers in their downtown offices. Some 5,000 automobiles were abandoned by their owners when all traffic stopped; police in the suburban town of Lancaster counted 66 cars in just one two-mile stretch of roadway, some with the snow piled over their roofs. Drivers sought shelter wherever they could find it. Some 400 motorists and stranded downtown workers slept on chairs and the floors of the Liberty Bank Building.

Heroic Firemen. The Statler Hilton Hotel passed out sheets and towels and crammed four people into some rooms. "Even the lobby was wall-to-wall people," said one employee. The 500 patients at the Edward J. Meyer Memorial Hospital crowded a little closer so that some 2,000 unexpected visitors could find places to sleep. Near the city zoo, residents saw a strange sight befitting the arctic scene: reindeer roaming in their backyards. The herd had escaped from the zoo by simply walking across a snow-packed moat.

The storm fostered a new spirit of camaraderie in the city. Bars were jammed with customers who could not get home. At the Rail Bar, Bartender Casimer Kania ordered ten patrons to leave as each new group of ten entered; he feared the floor would cave in under the crowd's weight. At Salvatore's Italian Gardens Restaurant in Lancaster, free sandwiches for everyone replaced costly Chateaubriand. Fire departments set up soup and spaghetti lines. The Salvation Army served meals to 25,000 people, clothed 4,000, gave medical supplies to 3,000. Citizens offered their snowmobiles for emergency rescue missions. Residents without electricity or gas found others willing to take them into their homes.

But as Buffalo struggled to cope with its emergency, there were unavoidable tragedies. Five people were found frozen to death in their stalled cars; one was within a five-minute walk of numerous warm houses. For 32 hours, no ambulance could move. "We couldn't get out to people," recalled Dr. Joseph Zizzi, "and they couldn't get in to us. I've never seen anything like it." Doctors could only telephone stricken residents or send word through CB operators about what to do for stricken people suffering chest pains and fainting spells. A fire in one house spread to eight others before heroic firemen could drag hoses through four blocks of drifted roads. One truck driver inched his way for two days to cover two miles, to bring fuel to the elderly at the Erie County Home and Infirmary.

Costly Cabbie. Still, Buffalo also discovered its dark side during the siege. There was widespread looting of abandoned vehicles and vacant drug and jewelry stores. On a single night, 60 arrests were made by justifiably angry police. There were some profiteers too. One taxi driver would not take stranded people from the Greater Buffalo International Airport to a motel--a distance of about 100 yards--unless he could round up five-passenger loads at $10 per person.

Finally Buffalo got help. President Carter first declared a regional state of emergency so that federal funds could be used to remove snow and restore health and safety services. The Army flew in 300 men from an airborne engineer task force at Fort Bragg, N.C. They arrived with snowblowers and trucks. The Air Force sent a C-130 cargo plane from Cleveland with needed repair parts for snow-removal equipment, and another plane hauled in cots and blankets from Washington, D.C. More than 500 National Guardsmen pitched into the snowbanks. Later, Carter declared nine counties a major disaster area, thereby allowing local governments as well as individuals, businesses and farmers to get additional federal funds to cover losses.

The cost of the blizzard was staggering. Some 300,000 people were forced out of work; the total economic loss in Erie and Niagara counties was expected to reach $225 million, including property damage in the city of about $18 million. Nor was the area's crisis over. Several thousand residents in nearby rural homes were still snowbound, their condition unknown. And at week's end it was snowing again in Buffalo.

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