On June 7, The BVI Beacon turned 40. To celebrate, it is re-publishing some of the biggest stories from its archives over the past four decades. The article below originally ran Sept. 28, 1989.

 

With winds gusting up to 140 mph and swells exceeding eight feet, Hurricane Hugo pounded the BVI for eight hours early September 18, leaving about 70 people homeless and causing more than $200 million in damages, according to the National Emergency Council and the Department of Information.

While vice chairman of the NEC Lorna Smith said the territory lost 67 yachts, 25 percent of its roofing, and while a few residents suffered injuries, other Caribbean islands had it much worse.

Broad path

Sweeping across Guadeloupe up through the Leeward Islands, Hugo knocked down power and telephone lines, leaving the normally peaceful, fun-loving vacation spots incommunicado and many virtually destroyed.

Wire services were able to confirm that Hugo left at least eight people dead, hundreds injured and thousands homeless in his horrendous wake.

In Montserrat, reports placed 99 percent of the population homeless.

St. Croix, one of the hardest hit islands, not only suffered grave damage from Hugo, but people reportedly looted stores early Wednesday morning, taking advantage of the helplessness of businesses that had been ripped open by Hugo’s whipping winds.

A wire service report quoted a tourist who said he witnessed locals in Christiansted “taking food and jewelry from stores and shoving it into plastic bags.”

The National Hurricane Centre in Miami reported that Hugo was still moving full force Wednesday at noon, on his way to threaten the US mainland where he later struck South Carolina.

Aftermath

Meanwhile, blue skies and sunshine lifted spirits here Wednesday for the first time in several days, illuminating grounded yachts, debris-ridden roads, downed power lines and other remnants of the previous few days of gusting winds and heavy rains.

Property owners filed their insurance claims, yachties untied and tidied their boats and charter agencies brought their yachts home from hurricane holes.

While the “talk of the town” revolved around water damage, shattered glass, roof replacement and a persistent lack of power and water in some places, a few of Tortola’s older residents reflected on the last few hurricanes that swept through their homeland.

Howard Penn, an 86-year-old retired politician, said Hugo was not nearly as vicious as the hurricane of 1924, the last hurricane to hit the BVI. He said at least 15 people were killed in that disaster.

“The 1924 gale was a lot worse than this one,” he recalled. “It was accompanied by a sort of tidal wave that left Main Street impassable due to all the building that fell across the street.”

“Why, I remember that Mr. Olva Georges and his wife were in one of the houses on Main Street that got pushed over. They were smart. They didn’t try to leave the house.”

The Robben, washed up after being wrenched from its mooring by a renegade vessel in late September of 1989. (File photo: JOHN CLARK)
Crushed

“Another guy down the street tried leaving his and got pinned between the house and a stone wall. He died by the next morning,” Mr. Penn said.

Angelica Scatliffe, who was eight years old when the 1924 catastrophic hit, said the Anglican Chapel was razed by the strength of the storm, which left many people homeless.

“At that time a lot of people lived in wooden houses and thatched-roof homes that just got blown away,” she said.

“I remember there was a big copper boiler that used to be used for making rum from sugar cane sitting down by the bend in Main Street before the gale,” Ms. Scatliffe recalled. “After the storm it was all the way up by the burial ground.”

1916

Only eight years earlier, the BVI was hit by an equally strong storm.

William Malone, a resident of the Adina Donovan Home for the Elderly, was 15 years old when the 1916 hurricane arrived totally unexpectedly one night.

“That 1916 gale killed 35 people and one donkey; it was definitely stronger than Hugo,” he said.

Mr. Penn, who was 13 years old in 1916, said he remembered his house “shaking like a leaf” in the middle of the storm.

1867

However, Messrs. Penn and Malone both said neither Hugo, nor the 1916 and 1924 hurricanes could be compared to the 1867 gale that they heard stories about when they were young.

“I can’t recall any specific information, but I know when the 1916 gale hit, the older people were all talking about how much worse the 1867 hurricane was,” Mr. Penn said. “And they said the same thing in 1924.”

Younger residents of the BVI, who had not experienced a hurricane in the 65-year lull, would most likely have difficulty imagining a more threatening scary hurricane that the likes of Hugo.

Radio ZBVI, which kept listeners informed of the where- abouts of Hugo and allowed family members and friends to keep tabs on each other throughout the storm, was inundated by calls from Hugo witnesses.

As one caller put it, “Part of my roof has blown off and I’m at home alone with my baby. I’m scared.”

While Hugo roared like a locomotive for the longest eight hours many have ever spent — huddled in closets — it would have been difficult to conceive of anything worse.