The Blizzard of '67

In January of 1967, I was halfway through my senior year in college at Illinois State University at Normal, Illinois. It was semester break. It was my plan to use the first day of break to transfer all of my belongings to a new dorm with the help of a boyfriend who had a car. Then we were going to go to Peoria where I planned to spend a day or two with his family, then I would take the train home to Oak Park--a western suburb of Chicago where my parents lived.

The day of the move was unusual. It was totally warm outside. I think the thermometer topped out at 65 degrees, and I remember wondering if we were going to pay for that, somehow. I was lucky, however, in that having it be that warm sure helped in getting my things moved into the new dormitory. Nice!

That afternoon, Bill and I drove to Peoria where we were welcomed at his family's home. We visited the rest of that day and the next. The day after that, January 26th, we awoke to nine inches of snow on the ground. Trains weren't running. I figured I'd stay over another day until the tracks could be cleared, so I'd better call home to let my folks know the plan.

My parents were both teachers at the time. Dad taught high school in Elmwood Park, IL, close by, and Mom was teaching 2nd grade in Addison--a 30-minute commute, mostly on Lake Street (which is a busy suburban street in the western suburbs). I'd heard that the Chicago area had been socked with snow, but I figured they were both snug at home, worried about me. Au contraire!

Dad answered the phone. Hmmm...that's unusual. Dad NEVER answered the phone.

"Hi, Dad. We've had nine inches of snow here, and the trains aren't running. I'll be home as soon as they start running again. Let me talk to Mom."
"She's not here."
"What do you mean she's not there??????"
"We've had a lot of snow. She never came home from school yesterday."
"Have you called anyone??"
"I called the police department. They said there are a lot of people stranded in their cars. I wanted to go out and look for her, but they told me I absolutely couldn't because they didn't need one more person stuck out there."

So, of course, all I did was worry after that. I could tell that Dad was worried enough for both of us. That was before the days of mobile phones. He had heard nothing from Mom, and he felt helpless. (In light of the events of that day, I'm sure he was not the only person concerned for the safety of loved ones!) I called home several times, aware that I was running up a long distance phone bill for my boyfriend's family, but finally, Mom was home--with a story to tell!

What happened that day was a strange weather phenomenon. A storm with a lot of moisture in it was predicted to drop about four inches of snow on the Chicago area before it moved on, but it didn't move on. It totally stalled over northern Illinois and northern Indiana. Snowfall started just pre-dawn and was coming down at the rate of two inches per hour--and just kept coming down. The Principal at Mom's school came into her classroom and said, "Margaret, you have the farthest to go to get home, so I will watch your class. You need to leave now." She did, but not before she stopped to top off her gas tank. (Later, she said that getting gas was the best decision she had ever made in her life!)

On her way home on Lake Street, Mom became entangled in a knot of cars that were stuck in snow. She couldn't move. She had no choice but to spend the rest of the day and night in the car, in full sight of civilization that was paralyzed in bitter cold and 23 inches of snow! She had to await a rescue. She had the presence of mind to save gas by running the car only when she got cold. I guess, in the morning, someone was making the rounds of stranded motorists, offering coffee. When a snow plow finally arrived, the driver decided to dig her out first because she had snow tires on her car and had the best chance of actually getting out. She made it home a full 24 hours after she had left--tired and hungry, but safe.

About those snow tires. No one had them back then. (After that storm, I think snow tire sales spiked!) My father was a good man. He made sure that Mom (and his daughters, as well) drove cars with safe tires. It made a big difference to Mom that day!

I actually don't remember how I got home after that storm, or when. I know I took the train to Chicago, which meant that Dad would have to brave the streets to pick me up at Union Station. I guess he did. There is a picture of me standing on the sidewalk in front of our house on Forest Avenue amid huge mounds of snow. The storm is still the record-holder for Chicago. Forty-five years ago today.