18 JULY 6, 2017 RIDGEWOOD TIMES WWW.QNS.COM
OUR NEIGHBORHOOD: THE WAY IT WAS
A cyclone that transformed Woodhaven
PRESENTED
BY THE WOODHAVEN CULTURAL
AND HISTORICAL SOCIETY
It was 122 years ago this month, July
13th, 1895, that the storm appeared
with no warning, first striking
Woodhaven at Jamaica Avenue and
Elderts Lane. The storm cloud, which
was estimated to cover an area of 300
square yards, moved swift ly south
injuring residents who were being battered
by a massive amount of debris
that was fl ying through the air.
Eyewitnesses described the cloud
as massive and dark, and some said it
was shaped like a funnel. Many others
described a soft red glow within the
cloud. They said that trees and chimneys
were ripped from their foundations
and fl ew through the air as if they
were no heavier than feathers. Several
persons found themselves lift ed off
their feet and carried through the air,
landing a block or two away.
The worst scene of destruction
was at the newly built 2-story brick
schoolhouse at University Place (95th
Avenue) and Rockaway Road (today,
a Boulevard). PS 59 had been built in
1890 on land purchased from manufacturer
Florian Grosjean, whose
legendary factory and clocktower still
stands on the border of Woodhaven
and Ozone Park.
The roof of the schoolhouse was
ripped off and the upper-half of the
building collapsed. Only that this
storm struck on a Saturday in July
prevented this from being a far more
tragic tale. No one was injured inside
the collapsed school building. Outside,
however, was a diff erent story.
One block east of the school, at 3rd
Avenue (84th Street) and Rockaway
Boulevard, 16-year old newlywed Louise
Petroquien, was at her sewing machine
when she heard the commotion
outside. Looking out the window, she
saw the massive dark cloud overhead
and ran outside to warn her mother.
She emerged from a side doorway
but before she could shout out a warning,
a large beam torn from the roof of
PS 59 slammed into her head and neck,
killing her instantly. It was her mother,
returning aft er the storm had passed,
who found her daughter’s body next to
the steps leading to their home.
The storm moved south and out
towards Jamaica Bay, leaving an eerie
silence amidst the massive amount
of destruction in its wake. Although
there were close to 150 home damaged,
accounts vary on how many homes
were completely destroyed, and the
number is probably somewhere between
15 and 30.
In the days following the storm, over
100,000 people came to Woodhaven via
the Long Island Railroad on Atlantic
Avenue to view the damage. While
locals bustled about, clearing away
debris, visitors dropped coins and bills
into barrels set up for the close to three
hundred people who lost everything,
or nearly everything, to the storm.
The main attraction for the visitors,
however, seemed to be the home of
Ms. Petroquien. The family permitted
visitors to enter her home, through
the door which she had rushed out
of, stepping over the spot where she
lost her life. They were led into the
parlor where they could view and pay
respects to the young bride, who was
lying in a rosewood coffi n under a
large pile of fl owers.
For the next century, stories looking
back on the storm of 1895 have
referred to Louise Petroquien as the
sole fatality from Woodhaven. However,
one small victim of that storm has
been consistently forgotten over the
past century – 5-year old Johnny Kolb.
The boy had been playing on Atlantic
and Rockaway when the storm hit
and aft erwards he was discovered
lying under the rubble. The boy had
broken both an arm and a leg and
passed away the next day. Both Louise
Petroquien and Johnny Kolb would be
buried in Cypress Hills cemetery.
Today, the intersection of 83rd
Street and Rockaway is now part of
Ozone Park. There is nothing to indicate
that this was once the scene of a
powerful and destructive storm. An
offi ce building stands where the school
once sat; for many years, this building
was well known as a Friendly Frost
appliance store.
What happened there over 120
years ago serves as a reminder that
we are forever at the mercy of nature
and its tendency to humble us without
warning.