Remembering 'the storm of the century,' 30 years later

Mar. 10—Thirty years ago this weekend, long before local TV affiliates began using the phrase "weather warn day" and the ratings-chasers at The Weather Channel started assigning names to winter storms, Haywood County experienced what has gone down in history as "the Blizzard of '93."

Originally forecast as a winter storm with the potential for significant accumulation — in hindsight, a slight understatement — the snowstorm hit Western North Carolina beginning early afternoon Friday, March 12, 1993. It continued relentlessly hammering the region for two more days, finally tapering off Sunday morning.

By the time the final flurries had fallen, upwards of two feet of snow had paralyzed the county, with wind gusts regularly clocking 50 mph leading to whiteout conditions, snapping trees like a hungry college student chomps through pretzel sticks and dropping power lines across the mountains. Adding insult to injury were plummeting temperatures that followed, with the mercury falling below freezing Saturday and dropping below zero come Monday morning.

It has become the stuff of local lore and now is referred to by many as "the storm of the century." According to reports, 12 people across WNC lost their lives, thousands were without power and hundreds were snowbound, many on the verge of running out of food and supplies.

Often using four-wheel-drive vehicles, county emergency medical crews logged nearly 90 calls over the weekend, mainly for respiratory and cardiac issues as folks attempted to dig out. When needed, crews called in the National Guard for assistance. Interstate 40 was impassable much of that weekend and schools were closed for days.

Western North Carolina was far from alone — the storm stretched from the Gulf Coast through the Ohio Valley and up into New England. When all was said and done, the cyclone affected approximately 40% of the U.S. population, resulting in more than 300 deaths, spawning tornadoes and coastal storm surges, causing power outages for millions, and wreaking billions in property damage.

The New York Times labeled the storm "a monster with the heart of a blizzard and the soul of a hurricane." That is a descriptive phrase that I wish I had penned, as it accurately illustrates a meteorological phenomenon with enough thundersnow to have Jim Cantore swooning like a preteen girl at a K-pop concert.

The anniversary of the Blizzard of '93 sent me searching the online archives available through the public library. "'Storm of the Century': Haywood paralyzed by blizzard" screamed the main headline of this newspaper on March 15.

"Emergency measures under way" and "County residents begin digging themselves out" yelled, though not quite as loudly, two other frontpage headlines. Two days later, the March 17 headlines still spoke of digging out and told stories of survival.

But, another two days later (The Mountaineer was a tri-weekly newspaper then), the snowpocalypse was no longer the top story. That day's big news was "Champion suffers setback," a headline that seems hauntingly familiar as the Canton paper mill has just announced a permanent closure, signaling significant economic hardship for a thousand employees and their families. (But that's a topic for another time.)

That edition's editorial praised local residents for coming together and helping neighbors in trouble: "Call it what you want, the 'Blizzard of '93,' the 'Storm of the Century,' or just one heck of a dumping, but last weekend's snowstorm amply displayed this quirk of human nature: instead of preying on someone's weakened position when a natural disaster strikes, people instead come up with generous reserves of kindness, strength and sympathy."

My biggest personal recollection of the snowstorm of 1993 is that, somehow, my rental house on Hazel Street in the "spread-out" section of Waynesville never lost power or cable that weekend, which meant this diehard Atlantic Coast Conference basketball fan was able to watch the ACC tournament in comfort.

My online archives research also uncovered a March 1993 column by yours truly, in which I wrote about that relative good fortune, even going so far as to whine a bit about not getting the outcome I wanted in the form of a tournament victory for my team.

Now, 30 years later, I realize those words don't exactly reflect generous reserves of kindness or sympathy. Oh, I still stand by them. I just wouldn't say them out loud these days...or put them in print where I could find them decades later.

Bill Studenc, who began his career in journalism and communications at The Mountaineer in 1983, retired in January 2021 as chief communications officer at Western Carolina University. He now writes about life in the mountains of Western North Carolina.