Hurricane David was only a Category 1 storm. It hit the coast of Georgia on September 4, 1979 and although it had been packing winds of up to 150 miles when it tore through the Caribbean, its effect on Biloxi was negligible. It kicked up the waves and wind, but otherwise was fairly harmless. Hurricane Frederick, on the other hand, was different. Seven days later, “Freddy” was aiming at the coastline of Georgia and Mississippi, boasting 145 mph gusts. When alerts were posted, my wife and I rushed back to our apartment.
Our place was fairly close to the coastline and a direct hit would have meant much damage. We began to do what everyone does when a hurricane is coming. First, we protected our windows with diagonal swathes of masking tape so if the wind blew the panes out, the glass wouldn't shatter as much. Then, the better furniture was elevated, if possible, on top of the crappier furniture to avoid water damage should flooding occur. Anything of real value like jewelry, cameras, photos and the like were loaded into her car. When we were done, she grabbed the dog and headed inland to stay with friends.
I had to go back to the station and when I got there, was in for one of the biggest professional disappointment of my life. My staff had deserted me. They fled! Really! Either they were cowards or I was plain stupid to think we should ride the storm out. Maybe a little bit of both. It's true, they had been through hurricanes and I had not. All the same, I was furious. More than that, I felt betrayed. Maybe this was the karma coming back to me that I created when I chose not to support our Program Director at WRFD.
It didn't matter, now, because there was no time to dwell on it. We had to make preparations for the worst. I was left, alone, to handle the station and to disseminate information as best I could. I only had the help of one person, a guy named Dennis, the only real friend I made while living in Biloxi. He had no radio background but agreed to stay and help in whatever way he could. I was very grateful.
As night came and ticked by, the storm intensified. I had that same radio rush as during the Ohio blizzard. It's weird how impending danger can seduce you. It's like some kind of fetish sex for your emotions. You get a flutter in your stomach and every once-in-a-while it races through your whole body for just a moment. It's like a fear orgasm.
Hurricane Freddy made landfall at Mobile Bay on the Alabama coast with a storm surge of 12 feet. So strong was it, Meridian, Mississippi experienced hurricane force winds 140 miles inland. Five people died and $2.3 billion dollars in damage was done. At the crest of the storm's power, it smacked Biloxi with 100 mile-per-hour winds. I had never been through anything quite like this. I was on the air most of the night, taking breaks occasionally to get some coffee, to rest or to listen to the storm.
Between midnight and 1 A.M., I decided to see first-hand what this hurricane looked and felt like. I pushed open the front door and clung to the side of the building. My face was immediately pushed in by the pummeling winds. The energy and power of a hurricane is awesome. Imagine, driving in a car at 100 miles-per-hour and then sticking half your body out the window. I pulled myself back along the jagged wall of the station and fell backward though the open door to safety.
Here's how Radio & Records later reported it:
Corey Deitz, Program Director at WLOX/Biloxi, told R&R that at one point, all 12 of the city's stations were forced off the air. WLOX's tower was knocked down, but the P/A outlet managed to continue broadcasting storm news via an emergency hotline connected to WTIX/New Orleans, having thoughtfully made this provision prior to the storm's arrival. According to Deitz, 50,000 people were forced to flee the Biloxi/Gulfport area. Deitz also reported that the storm blew out the area's electrical substations, and as he watched, “electricity arced up in green lightning like something out of ‘War of the Worlds'.”
The next day - when exactly I'm not sure - the winds dissipated and the clouds tore apart to reveal a beautiful, calm day. The irony of a hurricane is that what it leaves in its wake is quite stunning. Here was the bluest sky one could experience and the freshest smelling ocean air you could inhale. In contrast - on the ground - lay downed power lines, business signs, street lights, pieces of wood, portions of buildings, glass, trash and anything else you can imagine that had not been strong enough to stand up to the winds.
Excerpted and reprinted from "The Cash Cage" by Corey Deitz. Copyright 2004.
