NEW YORK STORM, JULY 8, 1853.
“At 5 o’clock Friday afternoon, a terrible storm of rain, hail, and lightning, rose suddenly from the north-west, and passed over the upper part of the city and neighborhood. It was quite moderate in the lower part of the town, and probably scarcely felt on Staten Island. The whole affair lasted not more than a quarter of an hour, yet the results were most disastrous, as will be seen by the following accounts from our reporters:
“Happening to be in the neighborhood of the Palace about 5 o’clock Friday evening, we sought shelter under its ample roof from an impending thunder storm, of very threatening appearance, rapidly approaching from the west. We had scarcely passed the northern entrance, and reached the gallery by the nearest flight of steps, when the torrent—it was not rain, but an avalanche of water—struck the building; the gutters were filled on the windward side in a moment, and poured over an almost unbroken sheet of water, which was driven through the Venetian blind ventilators, into and half way across the north-west gallery, and also through the upper ventilators, falling upon the main floor of the north transept. Workmen hastened to close the blinds, but that did not prevent the deluge. The tinning of the dome being unfinished, the water, of course, came down in showers all over the centre. Many workmen were engaged on the dome when the shower struck it; several of them, in their haste to escape such dangerous proximity to the terrific lightning, came down single ropes, hand over hand. Large number of workmen were engaged all over the exterior, and such a scampering will rarely be witnessed but once in a lifetime. It was found impossible to close a north window, used for ingress and egress of workmen upon the rod, and the water came in, in almost solid columns. For a time the water was nearly two inches deep on the gallery floor, and poured down the stairs in miniature cascades.
“A great number of boxes, bales, and packages of goods lay upon the main floor, among which the water poured down from the edge of the gallery floor in destructive quantities; Fortunately but few goods were opened, and were upon the tables, or the damage would have been irreparable. As it is, we fear some of the goods are injured. In the height of the storm, the centre portion of the fanlight over the western entrance burst in, and several single lights were broken, by staging or otherwise.
“About ten minutes after the storm burst, the most terrific hailstorm we ever saw began to rattle, like discharges of musketry, upon the tin roof and glass sides. Some of the masses of ice were as large as hen’s eggs. There were probably a thousand excited workmen in the building, and a good many exhibitors and visitors, among whom there were some twenty ladies, some of whom appeared a good deal alarmed at the awful din. A portion of the frame-work of the addition next to 42d street, went down with a terrible crash, and a part of the brick wall of the engine-house on the opposite side of the street, was blown over, crushing two or three shanties, fortunately without any other injury than driving the occupants out into the storm. But an awful scene occurred on the north side of 43d street, directly opposite the Latting Tower. Here two large unfinished frame buildings were blown, or rather, we should judge from appearances, were crushed down into a mass of ruins, such as may be imagined by supposing a great weight had fallen, with a circular, grinding motion, upon the first fine fabrics. One of them was partly sided, and had the rafters up, but no roof; the other was sided and rooted with tin, and was being plastered. We were told it was three stories high, 50 by 98 feet.
“We reached the ruins among the first, after the burst of the storm subsided a little. The scene was such as we pray God we may never witness again. A small portion of the roof and upper part of the front of the building stood or rather partly hung over the side-walk. The chamber and lower floor of the front rooms lay flat together. The sides were standing. In the rear all were down. In this building, besides the workmen, there were numerous laborers who had taken shelter under its roof when the storm drove them hurriedly from their work. How so many persons escaped death is truly wonderful. It can only be accounted for by supposing that they had a moment’s warning, and rushed into the street. The first alarm was from the tearing off a portion of the tin roof, which was carried high over another building, and fell in the street. A horse and cart barely escaped being buried under this. It seems the frame of the other building came down with a deafening crash at the same time, confusing instead of warning those in danger. At any rate, before they could escape, they were buried in a mass of timber, and three of them instantly killed, and four or five dangerously wounded; and others slightly bruised and badly frightened. Several would have perished but for timely assistance to extricate them. In this they were greatly assisted by Jacob Steinant, boss carpenter of the Tower, who with his men rushed to the rescue, notwithstanding the pouring down torrents.
“In Williamsburgh, the storm lasted about fifteen minutes, doing an incalculable amount of damage to dwellings, foliage, &c. Hailstones came down in sizes from that of a hickory-nut to a large apple, some with such force as to drive them through the cloth awnings.
“The storm passed over Brooklyn lightly, in comparison with the effects across the Williamsburgh line. On Flushing avenue, beyond the Naval Hospital, a number of trees were uprooted, and the window-panes of the houses shattered. On the corner of Fulton and Portland avenues, three buildings were unroofed, and the walls of the houses were sprung to the foundation.
“On Spencer street, a new frame building was levelled with the ground. Along Myrtle, Classon, and other streets and avenues of East Brooklyn, many of the shade trees were uprooted, and the windows smashed. In Jay street, two trees were struck by lightning, but no other damage ensued.
“Several schooners at the foot of Jay street were forced from their moorings, but were soon after secured. A small frame house in Spencer street, just put under roof, was prostrated to the ground.