For those of us that are old enough to remember, do you realize that the big snow of ‘73 will mark 50 years Feb of 2023? Boy, that makes me feel old. I got to thinking about that snow with the events of our last two weekends, especially this past one. Of course all snows will forever be compared to that of 1973 for its magnitude.
When I reminisce of that blustery weekend right around Valentine’s Day so many years ago, there are several things that stick out in my mind as I am sure some do for you.
Joe Pinner of WIS-TV, Mr. Snow, was confident we would get some snow out of this storm, but only a dusting. Apparently Dad told Mom he didn’t care if it snowed up to the hubcaps of his pickup. Of course for those you that know my Dad know that he is so prim and proper and succinct with his articulation; yeah right.
Well he got his wish alright and then some. It not only snowed up to the hubcaps, but when we got up and looked outside the next morning, (actually several mornings later for it snowed for a few days) you couldn’t see the wheels on his pickup. Now this is the same man that when we had that big ice storm in ‘68 was so determined to make his coffee and with all the pine limbs falling on the top our mobile mansion, he went and got his hard hat and put it on to finish brewing his cup of mud. (Old fashion term for coffee) He is a sick man, but all that know him, love him.
I remember looking East onto the Brewington rd and seeing this winter wonderland where everything was level, almost eye level; our yard, the road and the “ditches.”
I asked Dad if he remembered how deep the snow was on the Brewington rd in front of the house and I swear I should known better but I asked anyway. He told me 36”.
Now Dads middle initial is “E” and that stands for “Embellishment”, not just his Moms maiden name. For the sake of this article and from the fear of a lightning strike, let’s just say 24” plus. That would not be a stretch at all and we are safe from being struck down for lying.
In all seriousness Dad dressed up in his warmest winter garb and walked to I-95 which was less than a quarter of a mile of our house to see if he could help some of the stranded motorists. Because he was already so tired from the trek to the mighty I, he felt like there was only car he could reach safely and be able to get back home. He walked up to this vehicle and knocked on the widow to check on them. When they rolled the window down , the smoke from the, how shall I say, wacky tobaccy liked to have knocked him down. The occupants of this particular party mobile said, “Hey man, like when are you cats coming to rescue us, like far out man.” Dad retorted, “Like someone will be here shortly man.” The group grinned and said “Far out” and rolled up the window. Dad said as he turned to go” Yeah, way to far out.”
When we were able to, all the community kids met at our local mountain, I -95 overpass, and boy did we have fun. We slid down that bridge embankment until there was no snow left on that side of the bridge. Mom had a calf length coat and to this day I don’t know what that coat was made of, but it was so slick, she and my little brother, at that time, won every down hill race in Olympic style fashion.
Closer to Manning, I heard how one particular family helped so many people stranded from the storm, both local and tourist.
John and Clyde Knowles, the grandparents of someone “very special” to me and the owners of the Manning Restaurant fed everybody they could. They even sent farmers with their tractors to pick up the cooks. They fed law enforcement, EMS workers, linemen; you name it, they fed them. I also heard that they put up a bus load of women that their tour bus had become stranded. What I heard was that when Mr and Mrs Knowles caught wind of their snowy peril, “Ms. Clyde” told whoever to bring them to the restaurant and some how she got enough cots collected and she put those ladies up in an unfinished, yet heated, room for the duration of this trying time. Mr and Mrs Knowles benevolence was as well known as her fried chicken.
By the way, most of those meals were free. You can’t beat southern charm and hospitality.
I am sure for every tale I tell, you that are reading this has your own stories plus some, but I do want to leave you with this one.
As I referred to it earlier, the Mighty I was at a complete stand still and you need to realize that not everyone had 4 wheel drive, and all wheel drive and “smart-trac”, I think they call it, was unheard of.
Well this particular farmer that lived relatively close to the interstate figured he would help for apparently things were not getting any better a few days into this situation. So he decided that he would get his tractor and see if he could make his way to the stranded motorists.
As the story goes, this farmer put his winter gear on and went out to the shed and got on his farm tractor, John Deere 5020 I think, for you nostalgic farmers reading this, fueled it up, wraps a chain around the three point hitch, and headed out on his 20 minute ride to help these unfortunate tourist.
He basically “plows” through the snowdrifts, rides partly on the side of the overpass embankment to get around the fence, and finally makes it onto this parking lot of stranded vehicles.
He goes up to the first car, pulls past it, and begins to back up to it to get close enough to hook the chain to this snowed in car. Well as he’s looking back over his shoulder to get close enough to connect the chain, he sees this car, a CADILLAC I am told, start to shake as if the motorist is trying to get the door open. Mr farmer is thinking this person wants to either help or at least thank me. Now you need to understand, at this stage of the aftermath of this unbelievable snow storm, the SCDOT motorgraders had made one pass and those vehicles, mostly cars, trucks were not as nice and prevalent as they are now, could at least slowly travel towards their destination. Well as soon as the car door cracks, this man jumps out and runs toward the tractor swinging and flailing his arms shouting “Wo Wo” and by now, slipping and sliding, was almost under the tractor. This farmer has to slam on brakes not to run over this man. This stranded motorist hollers at this farmer shouting very indignantly in that northern brogue “What are doing?” Now this motorist sees the chain dangling off the back of the tractor. All this motorist needs is to be pulled over 25’ and he will be in that groomed strip and can be on his way, at least to some where he can stay over until the roads are more passable.
Oh no, not this yankee. He hollered at the farmer “ I know you aren’t going to hook that chain to my $10,000 Cadillac?” The farmer calmly shuts his tractor off and turned around and said to this unappreciative so and so, “You know you’re right. I’m not going to hook my $50,000 tractor to your $10,000 Cadillac.” He turned back around, cranked his tractor up, and drove back home. He put his $50,000 tractor under shed, went in his warm house and enjoyed his time off with his family.
Not quite sure what happened to that motorist, but I am sure from now on when he travels south, his attitude is in check as he crosses the Mason-Dixon Line.
That was a storm we in this area won’t soon forget. I think, however, the stories of the benevolence and generosity of our county residents far outweighs the the severity of that storm. The effects of that storm lasted for a few days, but the resolve to help others from our beloved Clarendon county residents spans many decades and generations. I am proud to be a resident of Clarendon county.
