The Children's Blizzard

by David Laskin Narrated by Paul Woodson

Overview

January 12, 1888, began as an unseasonably warm morning across Nebraska, the Dakotas, and Minnesota, the weather so mild that children walked to school without coats and gloves. But that afternoon, without warning, the atmosphere suddenly, violently changed. One moment the air was calm; the next the sky exploded in a raging chaos of horizontal snow and hurricane-force winds. Temperatures plunged as an unprecedented cold front ripped through the center of the continent.



By Friday morning, January 13, some five hundred people lay dead on the drifted prairie, many of them children who had perished on their way home from country schools. In a few terrifying hours, the hopes of the pioneers had been blasted by the bitter realities of their harsh environment. Recent immigrants from Germany, Norway, Denmark, and the Ukraine learned that their free homestead was not a paradise but a hard, unforgiving place governed by natural forces they neither understood nor controlled.

Editorial Reviews

The morning of January 12, 1888, dawned so unseasonably mild that many children in the Midwest walked to school without heavy coats or gloves. That afternoon, the quiet skies broke suddenly into a raging chaos of hurricane-force winds and blinding snows. Thousands of people, many of them schoolchildren returning home from class, were stranded in this bone-numbing blizzard. By the next morning, more than 500 people lay dead, many of them children caught just a few yards from shelter. David Laskin's The Children's Blizzard captures a weather event so horrific that its savage blasts are still remembered in Nebraska, Minnesota, and the Dakotas.

From the Publisher

Heart-breaking. . . . This account of the 1888 blizzard that killed more than 100 children in the Great Plains reads like a thriller. . . . Laskin reminds us that the pioneer life wasn’t so much romantic as it was deadly.” — Entertainment Weekly

“Terrifying and often vivid. . . . Laskin skillfully weaves together a clear report and explanation of the meteorological event with harrowing accounts of slow death, loss, and, survival. This book should be read by anyone wishing to fathom the terrible cost of settling that desolate, dangerous, and beautiful land.” — The Atlantic Monthly

“A terrifying but beautifully written book.” — Washington Post

“Laskin has written a fascinating account of the day the wind finally did what it always promises to do on those bleak Dakota prairies. . . . [He] has chosen his subject brilliantly, for something did change in that winter blast.” — Wall Street Journal

“Terrifying and often vivid…. Laskin skillfully weaves together a clear report and explanation of the meteorological event with harrowing accounts of slow death, loss, and, survival.” — The Atlantic Monthly

“In The Children’s Blizzard, David Laskin deploys historical fact of the finest grain to tell the story of a monstrous blizzard that caught the settlers of the Great Plains utterly by surprise. Using the storm as a lens, Laskin captures the brutal, heartbreaking folly of this chapter in America’s history, and along the way delves into the freakish physics of extreme cold. This is a book best read with a fire roaring in the hearth and a blanket and box of tissues near at hand.” — Erik Larson, author of Isaac’s Storm and The Devil in the White City

“Laskin excels at making these Plains pioneers live again, whether they survived or succumbed to the storm. . . . This book about flatlands is sharp enough that the thoughts and failings of mountain climbers become crystal-clear.” — USA Today

“The American prairie has its indelible epics —the luck-charmed journey of Lewis and Clark, the Oregon Trail tales and travails—and The Children’s Blizzard adds to our trove of western lore the nearly lost story of a mighty blow of nature. David Laskin’s telling of the immense 1888 blizzard that struck the homestead communities of the Dakotas and beyond is elegant in its research and eloquent in its recountings of prairie dwellers facing impossible weather. This is a haunting book about the odds stacked against the settlers of the American heartland.” — Ivan Doig, author of This House of Sky

“Laskin pulls no punches. . . . The Children’s Blizzard is a welcome contribution to the historical literature of American life and westward expansion.” — Chicago Sun-Times

“A gripping chronicle of meteorological chance and human folly and error. . . . Novelistic [and] consistently affecting. . . . A rewarding read.” — Publishers Weekly

“Unearthing the stories buried in a killer snow, David Laskin compellingly recounts a devastating 1888 snowstorm.” — The Seattle Times

“Like a ride down a steep, icy hill on a toboggan, the story gathers speed. . . . Even though you know how the tragic story ends with its inevitable conclusion, it’s a tale to savor.” — The Des Moines Register

“An adroit, sensitive drama and a skillful addition to a popular genre. . . . A perceptive presentation, evoking lives unnoticed by history but for the tragedy of this storm.” — Booklist

“David Laskin has produced a book at once terrifying and engrossing about the epoch blizzard that left an estimated 250 to 500 dead across the frigid plains of Nebraska and the Dakota Territory.” — The Lincoln Journal Star

“A tale of horror and heroism: gripping, terrifying, and definitely worth the read. . . . What makes The Children’s Blizzard amazing are the survival stories from people stranded in the sub-zero whiteout.” — Manchester Union Leader

“A heartrending tale. . . . With a flair for novelistic detail, Laskin brings many of these settlers back to life as he follows the fortunes of immigrant families. . . . Every page of the engrossing narrative explores the uncomfortable reality of human frailty when confronting insurmountable odds.” — Minneapolis Star Tribune

“Told through the awed, disbelieving eyes of storm victims. . . . The Children’s Blizzard recounts a poignant, heartbreaking chapter in American history. Laskin draws on firsthand accounts of the snowstorm to produce an intimate, human-scale tale of climatic cataclysm.” — Seattle Weekly

USA Today

Laskin excels at making these Plains pioneers live again, whether they survived or succumbed to the storm. . . . This book about flatlands is sharp enough that the thoughts and failings of mountain climbers become crystal-clear.

Chicago Sun-Times

Laskin pulls no punches. . . . The Children’s Blizzard is a welcome contribution to the historical literature of American life and westward expansion.

Ivan Doig

The American prairie has its indelible epics —the luck-charmed journey of Lewis and Clark, the Oregon Trail tales and travails—and The Children’s Blizzard adds to our trove of western lore the nearly lost story of a mighty blow of nature. David Laskin’s telling of the immense 1888 blizzard that struck the homestead communities of the Dakotas and beyond is elegant in its research and eloquent in its recountings of prairie dwellers facing impossible weather. This is a haunting book about the odds stacked against the settlers of the American heartland.

Wall Street Journal

Laskin has written a fascinating account of the day the wind finally did what it always promises to do on those bleak Dakota prairies. . . . [He] has chosen his subject brilliantly, for something did change in that winter blast.

Erik Larson

In The Children’s Blizzard, David Laskin deploys historical fact of the finest grain to tell the story of a monstrous blizzard that caught the settlers of the Great Plains utterly by surprise. Using the storm as a lens, Laskin captures the brutal, heartbreaking folly of this chapter in America’s history, and along the way delves into the freakish physics of extreme cold. This is a book best read with a fire roaring in the hearth and a blanket and box of tissues near at hand.

Washington Post

A terrifying but beautifully written book.

The Atlantic Monthly

Terrifying and often vivid. . . . Laskin skillfully weaves together a clear report and explanation of the meteorological event with harrowing accounts of slow death, loss, and, survival. This book should be read by anyone wishing to fathom the terrible cost of settling that desolate, dangerous, and beautiful land.

Entertainment Weekly

Heart-breaking. . . . This account of the 1888 blizzard that killed more than 100 children in the Great Plains reads like a thriller. . . . Laskin reminds us that the pioneer life wasn’t so much romantic as it was deadly.

Wall Street Journal

Laskin has written a fascinating account of the day the wind finally did what it always promises to do on those bleak Dakota prairies. . . . [He] has chosen his subject brilliantly, for something did change in that winter blast.

USA Today

Laskin excels at making these Plains pioneers live again, whether they survived or succumbed to the storm. . . . This book about flatlands is sharp enough that the thoughts and failings of mountain climbers become crystal-clear.

Washington Post

A terrifying but beautifully written book.

Chicago Sun-Times

Laskin pulls no punches. . . . The Children’s Blizzard is a welcome contribution to the historical literature of American life and westward expansion.

The Atlantic Monthly

Terrifying and often vivid. . . . Laskin skillfully weaves together a clear report and explanation of the meteorological event with harrowing accounts of slow death, loss, and, survival. This book should be read by anyone wishing to fathom the terrible cost of settling that desolate, dangerous, and beautiful land.

Manchester Union Leader

A tale of horror and heroism: gripping, terrifying, and definitely worth the read. . . . What makes The Children’s Blizzard amazing are the survival stories from people stranded in the sub-zero whiteout.

The Seattle Times

Unearthing the stories buried in a killer snow, David Laskin compellingly recounts a devastating 1888 snowstorm.

Booklist

An adroit, sensitive drama and a skillful addition to a popular genre. . . . A perceptive presentation, evoking lives unnoticed by history but for the tragedy of this storm.

Seattle Weekly

Told through the awed, disbelieving eyes of storm victims. . . . The Children’s Blizzard recounts a poignant, heartbreaking chapter in American history. Laskin draws on firsthand accounts of the snowstorm to produce an intimate, human-scale tale of climatic cataclysm.

The Des Moines Register

Like a ride down a steep, icy hill on a toboggan, the story gathers speed. . . . Even though you know how the tragic story ends with its inevitable conclusion, it’s a tale to savor.

The Lincoln Journal Star

David Laskin has produced a book at once terrifying and engrossing about the epoch blizzard that left an estimated 250 to 500 dead across the frigid plains of Nebraska and the Dakota Territory.

Minneapolis Star Tribune

A heartrending tale. . . . With a flair for novelistic detail, Laskin brings many of these settlers back to life as he follows the fortunes of immigrant families. . . . Every page of the engrossing narrative explores the uncomfortable reality of human frailty when confronting insurmountable odds.

Booklist

An adroit, sensitive drama and a skillful addition to a popular genre. . . . A perceptive presentation, evoking lives unnoticed by history but for the tragedy of this storm.

The Washington Post

A terrifying but beautifully written book.

The Chicago Sun-Times

A welcome contribution to the historical literature of American life and westward expansion.

The Wall Street Journal

In The Children’s Blizzard, Mr. Laskin has written a fascinating account of the day the wind finally did what it always promises to do on those bleak Dakota prairies. . . . Mr. Laskin has chosen his subject brilliantly, for something did change in that winter blast.

From the Publisher - AUDIO COMMENTARY

"A gripping story, well told." —School Library Journal

Product Details

BN ID:	2940170898855
Publisher:	Tantor Audio
Publication date:	05/10/2016
Edition description:	Unabridged

Read an Excerpt

The Children's Blizzard

Chapter One

Departures and Arrivals

Land, freedom, and hope. In the narrow stony valleys of Norway and the heavily taxed towns of Saxony and Westphalia, in Ukrainian villages bled by the recruiting officers of the czars and Bohemian farms that had been owned and tilled for generations by the same families, land, freedom, and hope meant much the same thing in the last quarter of the nineteenth century: America. Word had spread throughout Europe that there was land -- empty land, free land -- in the middle of the continent to the west. Land so flat and fertile and unencumbered that a family could plant as soon as they got there and harvest their first season. "Great prairies stretching out as far as one could see," wrote one Norwegian immigrant of the image that lured him and his wife and three sons to America in 1876, "with never a stone to gather up, a tree to cut down, or a stump to grub out -- the soil so black and rich that as somebody said, you had only 'to tickle it with a plow, and it would laugh with a beautiful harvest.'" As for the sky above this land, there was no need to worry. Rain, they were promised, would fall abundantly and at just the right times. Winters were bright and bracing, snowfalls light and quick to melt. "Indeed, it may be justly claimed as one of the most beautiful climates in the world," proclaimed a pamphlet written, translated, and distributed by agents of one of the railroad companies that owned millions of the choicest acres of this land, "and one best adapted to the enjoyment of long and vigorous life." And so they came for land, freedom, and hope, some 16.5 million of them between 1850and 1900, the majority of them never getting beyond the East Coast cities, but many hundreds of thousands, especially the Germans and Scandinavians, ultimately bound for the vast American grassland frontier bordered by the Mississippi to the east and the Missouri River to the west.

Gro Rollag was one of the seven hundred fifty thousand Norwegians who emigrated to America in the nineteenth century. She was twenty-two years old and a bride of several days when she left her family's farm in Tinn in the Telemark region of southern Norway in April 1873. Gro had married a strapping blond boy named Ole, three years her junior, from a neighboring farm. Rollag was his surname as well, since it was the custom in that part of Norway for families to take the names of the farms where they lived. In Tinn there were six Rollag farms scattered through the valley -- North Rollag, South Rollag, Center Rollag, and so on -- all of them small and niggardly in yields of barley, oats, potatoes, hay. Growing seasons were short this far north, crop failures all too common in chilly overcast summers, fields so pinched that only the most primitive tools could be brought in. "Our honeymoon took us to America," Gro Rollag wrote fifty-six years later with her dry humor, as if they might have chosen Paris or Nice instead. While the truth, of course, was that Gro and Ole left Tinn because the fields of the Rollag farms were being divided into smaller and smaller parcels every generation, because they didn't want to leave their children with less than they had, because in Norway only the firstborn sons inherited the arable valley parcels known as bonde gaard, and because Ole was facing five years of compulsory military service.

But it wasn't in Gro's nature to write this in the memoir she titled "Recollections from the Old Days." Nor did she mention how hard it was to leave behind this stunningly beautiful landscape at the beginning of spring -- the mountains rising sharply from the shores of a twenty-five-mile-long lake known as the Tinnsjo, the farms clustered on a level shelf of land at the head of the lake, the waterfalls gleaming on the sides of the mountains and feeding streams that merged into the broad Mana River, the red and white farmhouses scattered around the stately white church. Beauty was abundant and free in the countryside of Tinn -- but you couldn't eat beauty, and the beautiful farms were yielding less and less while the population steadily grew. But they were comparatively lucky in Tinn. Elsewhere in Telemark the farm fields had become so small from repeated division that farmers had to harvest the hay that grew on the thatch of their roofs and grow vegetables by spreading dirt and manure on top of rocks. It was a sad, haunted country for all its beauty. Men in the prime of their lives built their coffins and stored them inside until they were needed. "It was not a very pleasant thing to look at before you got used to it," recalled one Norwegian immigrant.

Gro Rollag was no beauty, but she was a strong capable young woman with a long face, prominent cheekbones, high forehead, and a kindly intelligent look in her rather narrow eyes. According to family lore, she was not the most conscientious housekeeper because she preferred reading to housework. A love of books and reading ran in the family. Of all the possessions they were forced to sell or leave behind in Norway, what the Rollags remembered with deepest regret was the library they inherited from an eighteenthcentury ancestor -- lovely old books sold to pay for their passage to America.

Gro and Ole were the first of the family to emigrate, leaving Oslo on April 24, 1873. "We traveled via England and with the Cunard Line from Liverpool," Gro wrote in her recollections half a century later, furnishing precious few details. "We were thirteen days on the Atlantic and landed at Boston. From there we went west in a railroad boxcar. We took a little snack for the journey -- a piece of sausage and a few crackers each."

The Children's Blizzard. Copyright © by David Laskin. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.

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