1919 Storm

Duane's take

Here's how the official marker tells it, and I'll do my best to do it justice. August 31, 1919. Somewhere down in the Caribbean Sea, a tropical storm quietly took shape.

Nobody knew it was coming. That right there is the thing that makes this story what it is — two full weeks that storm grew in intensity, undetected, drifting up into the Gulf of Mexico while the people of Corpus Christi went about their Sunday lives, completely unaware. By midnight on September 13, a hurricane was bearing down on the south Texas coastline.

And still, the folks in that thriving resort town weren't told a thing. Not until 9:45 in the morning on Sunday, September 14, did residents finally receive word to seek higher ground. Think about that timing.

By noon — just a little over two hours later — water flowing in from the Gulf had already reached three feet deep in the city. Now, here's the twist that history doesn't always lead with: in terms of wind velocity, this was considered a minor hurricane. Minor.

But wind wasn't what Corpus Christi had to fear that day. The storm's most devastating force came in the tidal waves it generated. And the most powerful of those hit the city in the late afternoon.

The tide reached more than twelve feet in height in Corpus Christi. Higher still out at White Point. Debris and oil riding those waves crashed onto North Beach and into downtown.

Fourteen thousand bales of cotton — fourteen thousand — were hurled at the shorelines of Corpus Christi and Nueces bays. Downtown houses and buildings were devastated, with two exceptions standing amid the wreckage: the Nueces Hotel and the power plant. North Beach bore the worst of it.

Three hundred to four hundred homes were destroyed there. When Monday morning came, only three buildings were left with more than rubble. Twenty million dollars in property damage across the area.

And then there are the lives. Three hundred and fifty-seven people died in the surrounding area — Port Aransas, Rockport, and beyond. Two hundred and eighty-six of those victims were from Corpus Christi.

The city didn't wait long to answer. The campaign to rebuild commenced immediately. And in a detail that still carries weight, the deep water port and channel to the Gulf was dedicated on September 14, 1926 — the seventh anniversary of the storm that had nearly undone everything.

But the story wasn't finished yet. Corpus Christi remained at the mercy of tidal waves and storms until a seawall was finally built in 1941. Twenty-two years after that August morning when a storm no one could see was already on its way.

What the marker says

On August 31, 1919, a tropical storm developed in the Caribbean Sea. For two weeks it grew in intensity, undetected, and moved into the Gulf of Mexico. By midnight on September 13, a hurricane was approaching an unsuspecting south Texas coastline. Residents of the thriving resort town of Corpus Christi finally were told to seek higher ground at 9:45 a.m. on Sunday, September 14. By noon, water flowing into the city from the Gulf had reached a depth of three feet. A minor hurricane in terms of wind velocity, the storm's most devastating force was in the tidal waves it generated. The most powerful of these hit the city in the late afternoon. The tide reached more than twelve feet in height in Corpus Christi and was higher at White Point. Debris and oil borne on the waves crashed onto North Beach and downtown Corpus Christi. Fourteen thousand bales of cotton were hurled at the shoreline of Corpus Christi and Nueces bays. Downtown houses and buildings, except the Nueces Hotel and the power plant, were devastated. Three hundred to four hundred homes were destroyed on North Beach, where only three buildings were left with more than rubble by Monday morning. Property damage was estimated at $20 million. Three hundred and fifty-seven people died in the surrounding area, including Port Aransas and Rockport; 286 of the victims were from Corpus Christi. The campaign to rebuild the city commenced immediately, beginning with the deep water port and channel to the Gulf dedicated on September 14, 1926, the seventh anniversary of the 1919 storm. Corpus Christi remained at the mercy of tidal waves and storms until a seawall was built in 1941. (2000)