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The following writing was first published in the February 13, 1985 Issue of the Baxter Bulletin Next January will be the 20th anniversary of the Great Snow Burn of the sixties. I hadn't thought of it in years. Probably wouldn't have but for the recent massive piles of snow around the town square. What happened on that late afternoon and early morning in 1967 brings chills to those who remember. No one remembers better than Hurdist Qualls, one of the area's most colorful old timers. At coffee last week he told it "like it was" as only Hurdist can tell it. But first, recall the snow itself. In late December of 1966, 18 to 19 inches of snow fell in the area, temperatures hovered around zero and the wind was brutal. We weren't accustomed to any such snowfall, and there weren't more than a half-dozen four-wheel drive vehicles in the whole county. When people could finally get out, the city's work crews used graders, dozers and shovels to pile up the snow around the square - much as they did recently: however, there was no removal equipment at that time. So, removal of the piles, some as large as small houses, led to the proposed solution - and near disaster. "I don't know who first had the idea to set fires and burn the snow in place," Hurdist says. "We've always thought it was somebody from the north where they're more used to the big piles of snow. Anyway, nobody can remember, and no one ever came forward to claim the credit. "It was before the days of shopping centers and fast food places, so everything was downtown. In the afternoon the businesses closed early to get started. Storeowners and their help were all handed wet burlap bags to fight whatever fire might escape the piles themselves. Then at 5 o'clock, on signal, members of the volunteer fire department touched torches to each of seven or eight snow piles around the square. The effect was stupendous! And frightening! It sounded like seven or eight separate buckets of gasoline being thrown on seven or eight brush fires on a hot summer day - except that each was louder than a thunder clap!" By this time, Hurdist was really getting wound up, and drawing a big crowd around the table, as he always does when he's reliving history. "Whoosh - KAthummm! Whoosh - KAthummm! Whoosh - KAthummm!" Hurdist bellowed, pounding the table with each of the seven or eight bellows. Cups jumped inches out of their saucers and silverware was scattered all over. "It's a gosh danged miracle that no one was killed in the torchings. Just a bunch of blistered skin and singed eyebrows," he went on. "Anyway, they tell that windows were blown out of the courthouse and businesses, but I don't know that to be a fact. "After the first blasts, there wasn't much danger from the flames and the piles burned down in about 40 minutes. The smoke created a greater hazard. Most people don't know that when snow burns it gives off a thick and heavy black smoke. If you didn't know better you'd think someone was burning old tires - but it smells more like hair burning. "Well, you know the rest of the story: how Cronkite picked up that scores of local people were treated for breathing snow smoke, how Lady Bird Johnson sent two environmental inspectors from D.C., and how it took years to get the black soot and sediment off of everything." At this point, one of our listeners asked, "But Hurdist, didn't the real peril arise after midnight that night?" Hurdist was ready to continue when a smart-aleck at the table said, "I think it's all a big crock." Hurdist got up, stormed out and hasn't been back for coffee since. If Hurdist has a fault, it would be that he is temperamental. Perhaps Hurdist will someday finish his story, although he said the rest was "never proved." I don't really know what to think about it, my memory being dimmer than his. But I would like to hear him out. In the meantime, it sure makes me nervous to see people flipping lighted cigarette butts into snow piles. There ought to be an ordinance against it. |
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