<< 1 >>
Rating: 
Summary: Well-written autobiography by a meteorologist...who knew!
Review: In a field of science where writing can be used more as a weapon than as a tool for understanding, Isaac Cline still shines as a meteorologist who knew how to write in a way most anyone can understand, without "dumbing up" the prose. The only thing missing are pictures, charts, and diagrams, if for no other reason than as a necessary break from all the text. His short chapters work to the book's advantage. Even after 49 years, the spirit of the author comes alive in his writings. He was in a unique situation - witnessing the birth of the National Weather Service, and leading to its eventual acceptance from a public unable to believe anyone could make a one hour forecast, let alone one for two days! He expanded the role of the NWS in his 55-year career, and now has an award named after him, long after his demise. He lived to a ripe old age, doing what he loved most. His personality is in full effect - he comes across arrogant at times, and uses shameless self-promotion in order to get everyone to know all the contributions he has made to meteorology and Early American Art. It was, and still is, well deserved, however. He goes over his role in the Galveston Hurricane, the 1915 New Orleans Hurricane, and numerous Mississippi River Floods, including the great crevasse of 1927. He put most of the pieces of the hurricane puzzle together, and advanced the science significantly. He raised a family, and still found time to restore old paintings and make great contributions to his community in Galveston and New Orleans throughout his life. The lessons he learned in life were hard, but it helped make him the man he was. His story is still fresh, even after all these years. This book is well worth owning, and is valuable in its historical information. Meteorologists and local historians could do worse than do read/own this work.
Rating:
Summary: PLUNG'D IN THE FOAMING BRINE
Review: Isaac Monroe Cline, writing of a storm he weathered off the coast of Veracruz, Mexico, made the prescient comment that "This was my first experience in a tropical cyclone, but it was not to be my last." Prescient, that is, for native Galvestonians who have listened to stories of the fateful, terrible Great Storm of 1900 from their forebears. I myself am a descendant of a survivor of an event that binds people together like Pearl Harbor survivors. Every B.O.I. (Born On the Island), it seems, had someone in the family or knew someone who made it through the night on September 8 one century ago. Storms, Floods and Sunshine is one book that will be indispensable to storm descendants and Texas history aficionados. It is the autobiography of Isaac Cline, the weatherman who followed the storm as it crossed the Gulf of Mexico after its birth under the sweltering West African sun, traveling thousands of miles across the Atlantic Ocean, cutting a swath of destruction across Cuba before turning its fury directly on the industrious city of Galveston, the Wall Street west of the Mississippi and number one cotton port in the nation. The chapters are short and the sentences are spare of the sentimental, flowery rhetoric one might expect of a Victorian-age Southerner born at the cusp of the Civil War in 1861. His life was one of Masonic diligence, Franklin-like in his pursuit of science and the betterment of mankind, shunning distractions like strong drink, gambling, even the company of women, until he could convince himself that perhaps the soft touch of a woman's hand could help him in social advancement. Predictably, the longest chapters concern the development of weather technology, from its infancy under the Signal Corps of the U.S. Army., the political undercurrents, the infighting, and the agricultural aggrandizement. There are some snippets of humor, such as one forecaster who typed up the forecast for the week, submitted it to the newspaper, and took off fishing. "History does not record a greater disaster in the United States, than that which occurred at Galveston, Texas, on September 8, 1900." The one chapter that stands out, of course, is the one which changed the lives of thousands of residents and the course of a city. It materially changed Cline's life as well--he lost his wife in the disaster. Curiously, he is very silent about her other than a short description of how they met. Perhaps the memory of her death was too painful to relate in the wake of a hurricane that took at least 6,000 lives. Some of the asides and anecdotes may strike the modern reader as a little bizarre. To put it in perspective, the writer is, after all, a devout Methodist who put aside a promising career as a preacher to study medicine and the weather. For example, a whole chapter is devoted to the novel idea that the ark was actually built in America--near the swamps of Florida and North Carolina, to be exact. Yet even here he marshals evidence he considers scientific, such as wood type and ocean currents. Plausible, maybe. Unusual, certainly. It is a firsthand account of someone who helped a neglected branch of science become an essential part of our understanding of the natural world today. As Cline writes, "The slow progress made in the study of weather is surprising. The barometer was not invented until 1643, and the special study of weather and its changes did not receive much attention until two hundred years later."
Rating:
Summary: PLUNG'D IN THE FOAMING BRINE
Review: Isaac Monroe Cline, writing of a storm he weathered off the coast of Veracruz, Mexico, made the prescient comment that "This was my first experience in a tropical cyclone, but it was not to be my last." Prescient, that is, for native Galvestonians who have listened to stories of the fateful, terrible Great Storm of 1900 from their forebears. I myself am a descendant of a survivor of an event that binds people together like Pearl Harbor survivors. Every B.O.I. (Born On the Island), it seems, had someone in the family or knew someone who made it through the night on September 8 one century ago. Storms, Floods and Sunshine is one book that will be indispensable to storm descendants and Texas history aficionados. It is the autobiography of Isaac Cline, the weatherman who followed the storm as it crossed the Gulf of Mexico after its birth under the sweltering West African sun, traveling thousands of miles across the Atlantic Ocean, cutting a swath of destruction across Cuba before turning its fury directly on the industrious city of Galveston, the Wall Street west of the Mississippi and number one cotton port in the nation. The chapters are short and the sentences are spare of the sentimental, flowery rhetoric one might expect of a Victorian-age Southerner born at the cusp of the Civil War in 1861. His life was one of Masonic diligence, Franklin-like in his pursuit of science and the betterment of mankind, shunning distractions like strong drink, gambling, even the company of women, until he could convince himself that perhaps the soft touch of a woman's hand could help him in social advancement. Predictably, the longest chapters concern the development of weather technology, from its infancy under the Signal Corps of the U.S. Army., the political undercurrents, the infighting, and the agricultural aggrandizement. There are some snippets of humor, such as one forecaster who typed up the forecast for the week, submitted it to the newspaper, and took off fishing. "History does not record a greater disaster in the United States, than that which occurred at Galveston, Texas, on September 8, 1900." The one chapter that stands out, of course, is the one which changed the lives of thousands of residents and the course of a city. It materially changed Cline's life as well--he lost his wife in the disaster. Curiously, he is very silent about her other than a short description of how they met. Perhaps the memory of her death was too painful to relate in the wake of a hurricane that took at least 6,000 lives. Some of the asides and anecdotes may strike the modern reader as a little bizarre. To put it in perspective, the writer is, after all, a devout Methodist who put aside a promising career as a preacher to study medicine and the weather. For example, a whole chapter is devoted to the novel idea that the ark was actually built in America--near the swamps of Florida and North Carolina, to be exact. Yet even here he marshals evidence he considers scientific, such as wood type and ocean currents. Plausible, maybe. Unusual, certainly. It is a firsthand account of someone who helped a neglected branch of science become an essential part of our understanding of the natural world today. As Cline writes, "The slow progress made in the study of weather is surprising. The barometer was not invented until 1643, and the special study of weather and its changes did not receive much attention until two hundred years later."
<< 1 >>
| 
