I remember all the trees crashing down I was 7 years old.
At 6am on August 16, 1972, Jayne Gibney, wife of a Brookings-based commercial fisherman, awoke and noticed the barometer had dropped overnight and was still falling, even as fishing vessels and pleasure craft were heading to sea. The weather reports carried no storm warnings, and no flags were flying at the Brookings or Crescent City bars, but Jayne’s eight years of working at sea alongside her husband had made her wary of sudden “equinox storms,” which could build from “dead calm to 100 knot winds” in a few hours.
Jayne heard the trouble starting as she monitored the fishing boats’ CB conversations. But the Coast Guard was not allowed to use CBs—boats that needed assistance had to radio a station ashore, which would phone the Coast Guard. That morning, Jayne also asked the KURY announcer to check for a weather update, but a downed tree in Brookings knocked the station off the air before he could broadcast.
The first mayday call came at 10am. Meteorologists later likened the storm to a “neutercane,” essentially a cross between a hurricane and a tornado, more often seen on the Atlantic.
As the Brookings Coast Guard lines became clogged with calls from concerned families, another fisherman’s wife parked her pickup near the door of Station Chetco River and passed CBed information from the endangered boats to the radioman to relay to the lifeboats. She also coordinated the citizen CB response on the jetties and beaches. The fishermen’s wives’ radio networking was crucial in guiding rescue efforts.
Not all were rescued. The number of boats out that day is not officially known, but at least 10 vessels were lost, and with them 13 souls. One seasoned fisherman made it to safe harbor in Gold Beach after noting the absence of the usual seabirds. “The birds knew it first.”
Jayne Gibney’s first-person chronicle of this community tragedy is available at the museum bookstore. The losses spurred changes in communication practices as well as enhanced radar and weather linkages.