THE SCHOOLCHILDREN'S BLIZZARD OF 1888
Google image of school teacher trying to lead her pupils to safety
local stories of the blizzard of 1888
avis dopp taylor, pupil at table rock school, age 12
charlie mccourtney, hired hand, age 19
Seymour dopp, country school teacher, age
John tlustos, farmer, age
jan sochor, age 60
forward by the editor
Do you remember learning in school about the Schoolchildren's Blizzard of 1888? I do. My 3rd grade teacher Alice Covault told it.
There was bad weather in January 1888, and then it became warm. Midwesterners did not know that a blizzard was sweeping down upon them. I ran across an account -- which I cannot now find -- that when it came, it was moved so fast and fierce that it ripped up the prairie sod and threw it in the air as it came forward. A Lincoln Journal-Star article on the 125th anniversary of the blizzard called it a "White Hurricane." Not only was the wind ferocious, but also the temperature had dropped to 40 degrees below zero.
Sadly, children were still in school. Some teachers let their students go home, when the temperature first began to drop, but others r kept their children in the schools and tried to keep them warm. Of those, some tried to lead the children to safety. Some were successful, some not.
Children were not the only ones affected by the blizzard. Indeed, most people were. It's just that that the stories haven't been passed down, or at least shared with me!
In 2024, Betty Davis of the Pawnee Repubublican newspaper said that in 1888, her family was building a barn, one which stood on the farm where she grew up. She said, "They were on the roof and could see the blizzard coming." That must have been a terrifying sight. One might expect a tornado in summer, or even a blizzard, but a blizzard so ominous that it's front is approaching like a sci-fi horror film I would not envy them.
There was bad weather in January 1888, and then it became warm. Midwesterners did not know that a blizzard was sweeping down upon them. I ran across an account -- which I cannot now find -- that when it came, it was moved so fast and fierce that it ripped up the prairie sod and threw it in the air as it came forward. A Lincoln Journal-Star article on the 125th anniversary of the blizzard called it a "White Hurricane." Not only was the wind ferocious, but also the temperature had dropped to 40 degrees below zero.
Sadly, children were still in school. Some teachers let their students go home, when the temperature first began to drop, but others r kept their children in the schools and tried to keep them warm. Of those, some tried to lead the children to safety. Some were successful, some not.
Children were not the only ones affected by the blizzard. Indeed, most people were. It's just that that the stories haven't been passed down, or at least shared with me!
In 2024, Betty Davis of the Pawnee Repubublican newspaper said that in 1888, her family was building a barn, one which stood on the farm where she grew up. She said, "They were on the roof and could see the blizzard coming." That must have been a terrifying sight. One might expect a tornado in summer, or even a blizzard, but a blizzard so ominous that it's front is approaching like a sci-fi horror film I would not envy them.
background information
From http://troytaylorbooks.blogspot.com/2013/01/thechildrens-blizzard-horroron-great.html?view=snapshot:
On this date, January 11, 1888, an unseasonably warm current of air moved out of the Caribbean and surged north into the American Great Plains. It was the first in a series of events – a perfect storm that would create a blizzard that would change the face of American history forever.
Early the following morning, a dark cloud appeared on the horizon. The air grew still for a long, eerie moment and then the sky began to roar and a wall of ice dust blasted the prairie. Every house, barn, fence row, wagon and living thing was instantly covered with shattered crystals, blinding, suffocating, smothering and burying anything exposed to the wind. The cold front raced across the open landscape, freezing everything in its path.
It swept across Montana first, and then buried North Dakota around the time that farmers were doing their early morning chores. South Dakota was frozen as children were finishing their morning recess at school and in Nebraska, school clocks were nearing the time for dismissal. In three minutes, temperatures in every region dropped more than 18 degrees. As night fell, the temperature kept dropping steadily, hour after hour, deluged by the cold from the northwest. The cold front brought snow, ice and subzero temperatures – and it also brought death.
By the morning of Friday, January 13, hundreds of people lay dead on the Dakota and Nebraska prairie, many of them children who had fled – or been sent home from – country schools at the same time the wind shifted and the sky was exploding.
It was a disaster created by bad luck and bad timing. The January blizzard – which has become known as the “Children’s Blizzard” or the “Schoolhouse Blizzard” – affected an entire region and its population. There was not a family among the farmers, settlers and town-dwellers on the prairie who was not personally affected by death caused by the storm, or who at least knew another family that was. It was a terrifying event and after it passed, the region was never the same again.
Here is an excellent video, and the best essay I've ever seen on the subject generally,
in table rock
the story of Avis Dopp
12 year-old in table rock caught in the open,
survived the schoolchildren's blizzard
avis dopp's story recounted by glee covault.
Avis told Glee, and Glee tells schoolchildren each year, just as her mother-in-law Alice Covault once did.
avis dopp's story as re-told by the editor
The Dopp family – Seymour and Flora Dopp and their daughters Ida and Avis -- came to Table Rock three years before the blizzard. They were not unused to snow, having come from Rome New York. They were headed to Colorado then, but when they were changing trains in Table Rock, Seymour saw a sign “Carpenter Wan ted.” He was a carpenter by trade. He took the job, and when hey stayed on, he also taught school.
Avis was to share her story with family. Gleora Covault, Avis’s grand daughter-in-law, tells the story each year on Living History Day, which is held for fourth and fifth graders. Gleora refreshes her memory with a tape she made of Avis telling her story when Avis was 98. This is the story as Gleora told it at the 2015 Living History Day, as she stood in the Maple Grove Country School Museum.
“This is the story of my husband’s grandmother. She lived in town in a brick house right down the street from this building, only a block from school. On the day of the blizzard, she came home for dinner. It was such a beautiful day out that she did not wear her hat, her coat, or her mittens back to school. About 2 o’clock the wind came up with a tremendous roar . Everything turned dark, and it turned cold fast, really really fast. And they dismissed school.”
“She was 98 years old and we were in the kitchen doing dishes and I taped her story, so that I would have it. She had a really good mind at 98. Anyway, she said they dismissed school and she came home, and she said, ‘I was down as much as I was up.’ I asked, what do you mean? ‘Why,’ she said, ‘The wind!’ They wore long dresses, and the wind would hit the back of her skirt and knock her flat into the snow. She would try to get up and the wind would catch her skirt and knock her down again.
By the time she got home – and this was just a block - her hands were about frozen. She said she cried and she cried. She said , ‘Mamma knew what to do, she put my hands in cold water’ We know now that is not the thing to do, but that is what they believed.”
In the end, the only thing was that she lost her fingernails. But they grew back.
Avis was to share her story with family. Gleora Covault, Avis’s grand daughter-in-law, tells the story each year on Living History Day, which is held for fourth and fifth graders. Gleora refreshes her memory with a tape she made of Avis telling her story when Avis was 98. This is the story as Gleora told it at the 2015 Living History Day, as she stood in the Maple Grove Country School Museum.
“This is the story of my husband’s grandmother. She lived in town in a brick house right down the street from this building, only a block from school. On the day of the blizzard, she came home for dinner. It was such a beautiful day out that she did not wear her hat, her coat, or her mittens back to school. About 2 o’clock the wind came up with a tremendous roar . Everything turned dark, and it turned cold fast, really really fast. And they dismissed school.”
“She was 98 years old and we were in the kitchen doing dishes and I taped her story, so that I would have it. She had a really good mind at 98. Anyway, she said they dismissed school and she came home, and she said, ‘I was down as much as I was up.’ I asked, what do you mean? ‘Why,’ she said, ‘The wind!’ They wore long dresses, and the wind would hit the back of her skirt and knock her flat into the snow. She would try to get up and the wind would catch her skirt and knock her down again.
By the time she got home – and this was just a block - her hands were about frozen. She said she cried and she cried. She said , ‘Mamma knew what to do, she put my hands in cold water’ We know now that is not the thing to do, but that is what they believed.”
In the end, the only thing was that she lost her fingernails. But they grew back.
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Photograph 1000 - Avis Dopp is to the far left, the teacher in the dark dress. This is in front of the frame school building, built in 1874, which was used until a brick school was built in 1902. The photograph is labeled as circa 1892-1894. Avis graduated from high school in 1894, and appears very much a teacher, so a fair assumption is that this photograph is from 18i94 or shortly thereafter. Many of us still remember her as Mrs. Taylor, who lived to be 98 years old and was the mother of our grade school teacher Alice Taylor Covault, who herself lived to be be 98.
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Photo 778 -- Alice Covault, long-time grade school teacher, only child of Avis Dopp
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Dick Taylor's article about avis's experience
from table rock -- charlie mCcourtney, age 19
hired hand working south of pawnee city
blizzard hit as he picked up his boss's children at their country school
Charlie, almost 20 years after the blizzard
In 1947, a book titled “In All Its Fury” was published by “The January 12, 1888 Blizzard Club,” which compiled the stories of many, including Charles McCourtney of Table Rock. McCourtney had at the time of the blizzard been working for a farmer in Clay Precinct, south of Pawnee City, a “good-hearted” man named Lemuel Jordan.
Charlie recalled that on the day of the storm, it was pleasant in the morning, However, it seemed that something was amiss. He said, “The fat cattle were our only barometers at that time, and I had noticed that the night before they ate up everything in reach of them but on the morning of this memorable day they would not eat at all. They just sniffed, with noses in the air.”
He took the Jordan children to and from their country school each day. There were four daughters and a small son. That day, he took them to school as usual. Then he returned to work. He hauled a load of hay to market that morning. About Noon, it became hazy. After a dinner break, he got a load of loose hay. He said, “There was no wind to interfere with loading the hay.”
It came time to pick the children up from school, and he headed to the school, pulling up at the south side of the schoolhouse. That’s when it all started. “Just then the wind began to blow very hard. A man teacher from the district east of us came by just then with his horse on the run, and told us that a farmer living in his district had just come home from Pawnee where he heard that a message had come over the Western Union wires (there was no telephone) that the worst blizzard ever was headed our way from the northwest. He advised our teacher to dismiss school at once.”
“I loaded the Jordan children into my spring wagon and started for home. I kept the horses to a good, keen gallop until we met the storm.
The force of the storm was so strong that it slowed them down to a slow walk. I saw that they were riding their bits so hard on the check reins that I got down and loosened their reins. Those poor brutes then got their noses down to within four to eight inches of the ground.”
“The last quarter of a mile we went east and during that time I could not see our horses at any time, and I was sitting on the front seat of the wagon.”
“The horses took us to the south side of the house, our usual stopping place, and stopped.” He was able to get the five children into the house, and then he saw to the safety of the horses and himself.
He unhitched them and took off their bridles and the horses headed for the barn as they usually did. He grabbed one by the tail in order to get to the barn.
Inside the barn, he found the other hired man throwing down hay for the stock. The other hired man “asked what it was doing outside. I told him there was the worst storm that he had ever seen.” “Some of the snowbanks that were piled up that night were still there the first of May. ‘
Charlie added that “loosening the reins had been a God-send to the children and me as well as the horses and I promised myself right then that if I ever had mules or horses of my own I would never be guilty of putting check reins on my bridles. Since then I have used many horses and mules on grading jobs but I have never used check reins on any of them.” [From the editor: I gather that the greater the force that a horse draws (or, in this case, pushes against) the more he puts his head down in order to increase his power. How ferocious the winds must have been to slow the horses to the extent that their noses were nearly to the ground as they pulled the wagon.]
Many another account of the storm describes people who found it literally impossible to turn into the storm. Charlie found himself and the children lucky that the horses were able to pull into the storm in order to get home, and they were indeed lucky. About 100 Nebraskans died in the storm, up to 400 others elsewhere, mostly in the Dakotas. And many others, like John Tlustos, suffered injury and amputation from exposure that plagued them for life.
Charlie recalled that on the day of the storm, it was pleasant in the morning, However, it seemed that something was amiss. He said, “The fat cattle were our only barometers at that time, and I had noticed that the night before they ate up everything in reach of them but on the morning of this memorable day they would not eat at all. They just sniffed, with noses in the air.”
He took the Jordan children to and from their country school each day. There were four daughters and a small son. That day, he took them to school as usual. Then he returned to work. He hauled a load of hay to market that morning. About Noon, it became hazy. After a dinner break, he got a load of loose hay. He said, “There was no wind to interfere with loading the hay.”
It came time to pick the children up from school, and he headed to the school, pulling up at the south side of the schoolhouse. That’s when it all started. “Just then the wind began to blow very hard. A man teacher from the district east of us came by just then with his horse on the run, and told us that a farmer living in his district had just come home from Pawnee where he heard that a message had come over the Western Union wires (there was no telephone) that the worst blizzard ever was headed our way from the northwest. He advised our teacher to dismiss school at once.”
“I loaded the Jordan children into my spring wagon and started for home. I kept the horses to a good, keen gallop until we met the storm.
The force of the storm was so strong that it slowed them down to a slow walk. I saw that they were riding their bits so hard on the check reins that I got down and loosened their reins. Those poor brutes then got their noses down to within four to eight inches of the ground.”
“The last quarter of a mile we went east and during that time I could not see our horses at any time, and I was sitting on the front seat of the wagon.”
“The horses took us to the south side of the house, our usual stopping place, and stopped.” He was able to get the five children into the house, and then he saw to the safety of the horses and himself.
He unhitched them and took off their bridles and the horses headed for the barn as they usually did. He grabbed one by the tail in order to get to the barn.
Inside the barn, he found the other hired man throwing down hay for the stock. The other hired man “asked what it was doing outside. I told him there was the worst storm that he had ever seen.” “Some of the snowbanks that were piled up that night were still there the first of May. ‘
Charlie added that “loosening the reins had been a God-send to the children and me as well as the horses and I promised myself right then that if I ever had mules or horses of my own I would never be guilty of putting check reins on my bridles. Since then I have used many horses and mules on grading jobs but I have never used check reins on any of them.” [From the editor: I gather that the greater the force that a horse draws (or, in this case, pushes against) the more he puts his head down in order to increase his power. How ferocious the winds must have been to slow the horses to the extent that their noses were nearly to the ground as they pulled the wagon.]
Many another account of the storm describes people who found it literally impossible to turn into the storm. Charlie found himself and the children lucky that the horses were able to pull into the storm in order to get home, and they were indeed lucky. About 100 Nebraskans died in the storm, up to 400 others elsewhere, mostly in the Dakotas. And many others, like John Tlustos, suffered injury and amputation from exposure that plagued them for life.
from table rock - seymour dopp, age 37
school teacher who kept all 17 pupils safe as they weathered the storm in their school
Where did he live, and where was his school?
If you search online for accounts, you will see that Avis Dopp's father, Seymour Dopp, is often cited for his actions during the blizzard. He is usually described as a teacher from Pawnee City, even from west of Pawnee City, but that is unlikely. The family lived in Table Rock and he rode his horse to school every day and a distance of more than a few miles would have been impracticable. Moreover, he was able to go from the school home on the morning after the blizzard despite huge drifts and a temperature of 20 below zero. We don’t know which country school he was at other than that Avis described it to her daughter-in-law Gleora Covault as between Table Rock and Pawnee City. There were only two such schools, Maple Grove, District 17, and the Taylor School, District 16. Both are within a few miles of Table Rock. It is most likely that he was at the Taylor School, because he is not on an (incomplete) list of teachers at Maple Grove.
Avis's story about her father's experience
Here is Avis’s story about her father, as shared by Gleora, long an active member of the Table Rock Historical Society. “When the blizzard came, Pappa made the decision to keep his students at school. They went outside and pumped extra water. Pappa had them bring in firewood and dump it on the floor. They divided up the food left from lunch for their evening meal. She said of course Pappa didn’t eat any.”
Avis said, “There was a lot of crying during the night.” Gleora understands that, saying, “I’m assuming that kids then probably weren’t used to staying all-night away from home. Besides, why wouldn’t they be scared? Hearing the roar of the storm would really be frightening.”
The storm cleared up by morning, leaving intense cold and deep drifts of snow. “Pappa said that at dawn there came the people in wagons and on horses. What rejoicing there was, because all 17 students were safe.” Parents hadn’t known whether the students had been kept at school or had been caught in the blizzard on their way home and had been frozen to death.
Avis remembered her own little family’s wondering and fear when Seymour did not return at the end of the school day. She said, “We were home, anxiously waiting to see if papa was all right. He came home mid morning on his horse.” Again, what relief and rejoicing there must have been. And their horse was safe, as well! Avis explained that the horse had been kept safe during the storm. “He said they had to take the door off the cob shed to get the horse inside. Back then all the men and boys carried pocket knives so they used it to get the door off, put the horse in the cob shed and put the door back on. So his horse was all right.”
If you search online for accounts, you will see that Avis Dopp's father, Seymour Dopp, is often cited for his actions during the blizzard. He is usually described as a teacher from Pawnee City, even from west of Pawnee City, but that is unlikely. The family lived in Table Rock and he rode his horse to school every day and a distance of more than a few miles would have been impracticable. Moreover, he was able to go from the school home on the morning after the blizzard despite huge drifts and a temperature of 20 below zero. We don’t know which country school he was at other than that Avis described it to her daughter-in-law Gleora Covault as between Table Rock and Pawnee City. There were only two such schools, Maple Grove, District 17, and the Taylor School, District 16. Both are within a few miles of Table Rock. It is most likely that he was at the Taylor School, because he is not on an (incomplete) list of teachers at Maple Grove.
Avis's story about her father's experience
Here is Avis’s story about her father, as shared by Gleora, long an active member of the Table Rock Historical Society. “When the blizzard came, Pappa made the decision to keep his students at school. They went outside and pumped extra water. Pappa had them bring in firewood and dump it on the floor. They divided up the food left from lunch for their evening meal. She said of course Pappa didn’t eat any.”
Avis said, “There was a lot of crying during the night.” Gleora understands that, saying, “I’m assuming that kids then probably weren’t used to staying all-night away from home. Besides, why wouldn’t they be scared? Hearing the roar of the storm would really be frightening.”
The storm cleared up by morning, leaving intense cold and deep drifts of snow. “Pappa said that at dawn there came the people in wagons and on horses. What rejoicing there was, because all 17 students were safe.” Parents hadn’t known whether the students had been kept at school or had been caught in the blizzard on their way home and had been frozen to death.
Avis remembered her own little family’s wondering and fear when Seymour did not return at the end of the school day. She said, “We were home, anxiously waiting to see if papa was all right. He came home mid morning on his horse.” Again, what relief and rejoicing there must have been. And their horse was safe, as well! Avis explained that the horse had been kept safe during the storm. “He said they had to take the door off the cob shed to get the horse inside. Back then all the men and boys carried pocket knives so they used it to get the door off, put the horse in the cob shed and put the door back on. So his horse was all right.”
rural table rock -- john tlustos, farmer, age 27
Lost all of his toes, mental illness that followed attributed to those severe injuries
Four years before the Blizzard of 1888, John Tlustos came to America from Kuklik, Moravia. He came with the Frank Jun family.
John worked around Humboldt, Wilber, and Omaha.
In 1888, he was caught in the blizzard. He was working as a hired hand, probably in the Dry Branch area. I don’t know the circumstances. All I know is that his feet were frozen so badly that his toes had to be amputated.
In 1896, John married Maria Svanda Pruddish; they were to have five children, two of whom died in infancy. They left Pawnee County in 1904 to take a homestead in western Nebraska but returned after 7 years. They had suffered many hardships — drought, grasshoppers, prairie fires, hail, and their small home burned down with all their personal possessions in it.
In 1912, they lived in Table Rock. John, at age 50, was taken before the “insanity board” for Pawnee County and was declared insane. One newspaper later reported that he had never fully recovered from his injuries in the blizzard, and “it is thought his suffering was the cause of his supposed insanity.” There being no space available in the insane asylum in Lincoln, it was ruled that he would be held indefinitely in Pawnee County. He died at home the next year.
John worked around Humboldt, Wilber, and Omaha.
In 1888, he was caught in the blizzard. He was working as a hired hand, probably in the Dry Branch area. I don’t know the circumstances. All I know is that his feet were frozen so badly that his toes had to be amputated.
In 1896, John married Maria Svanda Pruddish; they were to have five children, two of whom died in infancy. They left Pawnee County in 1904 to take a homestead in western Nebraska but returned after 7 years. They had suffered many hardships — drought, grasshoppers, prairie fires, hail, and their small home burned down with all their personal possessions in it.
In 1912, they lived in Table Rock. John, at age 50, was taken before the “insanity board” for Pawnee County and was declared insane. One newspaper later reported that he had never fully recovered from his injuries in the blizzard, and “it is thought his suffering was the cause of his supposed insanity.” There being no space available in the insane asylum in Lincoln, it was ruled that he would be held indefinitely in Pawnee County. He died at home the next year.
rural table rock - jan sochor, age 60, & his children
their dugout covered by drifts
In 1872, the family of Jan and Anna Sochor arrived in America. Jan and Anna and their four children came from Opatov, a town in the highlands of the south of what was once Moravia. They represented just six of some 50,000 Czech immigrants that History Nebraska says came here between 1856 and World War I.
Their home for years was a dug out, a cave dug into the side of a hill. Jan made a living for his family by farming. To break up the sod, he had one horse and a plow. With the aid of a second horse borrowed from a neighbor, he could plow up 3 acres a year. A last child was born there and Anna died a few years later, in 1880. Great difficulties ensued as Jan tried to keep the family together.
The son, John, Jr., worked the farm with his father. He went to school only in the winter. When the son became old enough to carry the whole responsibility for the farm, the father secured outside work. Just as some farmers today survive by working salaried jobs on top of the grueling work of the farm, so John Sochor brought home money by working as a stone mason. He walked to Brownville, Nebraska for work, leaving on Sunday night and returning on Saturday. Today, the driving distance is about 40 miles, but in those days people going on foot to Brownville traveled cross country; this was so for many years. Jan did more than just walk the distance for work. Echoing other families of the early days, the Sochor family remembers, “Many times he carried home a 50 pound sack of flour and groceries” on that journey.
The story passed on by the family about the 1888 blizzard is that they still lived in the dugout. The oldest was married and had her own household but the others were at home, three being past the 8th grade. The youngest child, Sophie, was 13. Apparently she was not in school but rather at home and it may have been a preferable place in such weather. However, the drifting snow covered them up. They had to poke holes up through the snow with a broom for air. Their livestock survived the blizzard because they were in an enclosure made of hay and the animals ate the hay and made openings for air, and the snow provided a means to slake their thirst.
Their home for years was a dug out, a cave dug into the side of a hill. Jan made a living for his family by farming. To break up the sod, he had one horse and a plow. With the aid of a second horse borrowed from a neighbor, he could plow up 3 acres a year. A last child was born there and Anna died a few years later, in 1880. Great difficulties ensued as Jan tried to keep the family together.
The son, John, Jr., worked the farm with his father. He went to school only in the winter. When the son became old enough to carry the whole responsibility for the farm, the father secured outside work. Just as some farmers today survive by working salaried jobs on top of the grueling work of the farm, so John Sochor brought home money by working as a stone mason. He walked to Brownville, Nebraska for work, leaving on Sunday night and returning on Saturday. Today, the driving distance is about 40 miles, but in those days people going on foot to Brownville traveled cross country; this was so for many years. Jan did more than just walk the distance for work. Echoing other families of the early days, the Sochor family remembers, “Many times he carried home a 50 pound sack of flour and groceries” on that journey.
The story passed on by the family about the 1888 blizzard is that they still lived in the dugout. The oldest was married and had her own household but the others were at home, three being past the 8th grade. The youngest child, Sophie, was 13. Apparently she was not in school but rather at home and it may have been a preferable place in such weather. However, the drifting snow covered them up. They had to poke holes up through the snow with a broom for air. Their livestock survived the blizzard because they were in an enclosure made of hay and the animals ate the hay and made openings for air, and the snow provided a means to slake their thirst.
more articles and stories about the blizzard
Wikipedia entry about the blizzard
For more technical details, check out the Wikipedia entry, inserted below:
