A Wintry Blast

3. “I never saw people so nice to each other.”

Though the snow had paralyzed the city, not everything came to a halt. A few grocery stores managed to open. At hospitals, small staffs manned phones and treated patients. And at the Globe, a spartan crew of editors holed up at the Morrissey Boulevard headquarters in order to get the paper out. For his part, Governor Michael Dukakis stationed himself in the former NBC building next door to the State House, famously ditched his suit for a turtleneck sweater, and began a routine of much-watched press conferences.

Michael Dukakis (was in his first term as Massachusetts governor): First, I like sweaters. And second, who would wear a shirt and tie in that kind of atmosphere? What did you expect me to wear? The snow was over my head, for God’s sake.

Matt Storin (was assistant managing editor of the Globe’s Living/Arts section; later became editor in chief): My wife and I were living on Beacon Street. The first thing you noticed was how quiet it was. There was no traffic, the roads weren’t even plowed—you might as well have been in rural New England. The snow almost had a yellowish tint to it because there was no sun at all. I figured out finally that I was going to have to walk to work. It was maybe 5 miles. I had a Minolta camera, and as I got near South Hampton Street in Roxbury there was a tractor-trailer truck overturned; it was on its side, filled with wooden cages of live chickens that were still on the truck. That picture appeared on the front page the next day.

Frederick Lovejoy (physician, Children’s Hospital): This storm hits and immediately all the specialists and the faculty that would be on site suddenly couldn’t come in. I was backup. I was living on Beacon Hill, so to go in I’d take the subway to Kenmore Square, and get out and ski from Kenmore to Children’s. I’d go in at 7 in the morning and handle the calls all day long. Then I’d ski out, get the subway, and take the calls at my house.

Matt Storin: Fortunately, we were still using typewriters, because at some point in time we were operating on reduced power. The auxiliary power was used to run the presses but we were drawing from it. They had to string up 100-watt bulbs just to light the newsroom.

Robert Aiello (former owner, Deluca’s Market on Charles Street): When the power went off, we used flashlights and candles in the aisles. We did business like that for five or six hours.

Maeve Blackman (former director of volunteers, Massachusetts General Hospital): I knew I was needed at the hospital, so a couple of days after the storm, I decided to walk to work. I’d leave in the morning—it was only a few miles—and as I’d get to Beacon Street all these other people were out and about, too, on foot or on skis. You’d end up walking in groups, maybe five at a time, talking about how everyone was managing. It was as if we’d known each other for years. But of course we didn’t. I don’t think we even introduced ourselves to one another. We just fell into step.

Joseph Casazza (former Boston commissioner of public works): I never saw people so nice to each other. If they ever counted them up, I think we got fewer complaints on the Blizzard of ’78 than we would on a 6-inch snowstorm that might come next February.

Far right, a scene from a snowed-in Financial District. The rest of the photos were shot in and around Allston, where photographer Frank Florianz lived—and was stuck for most of the week. (Photographs by Frank Florianz)

4. “It felt like a great escape, almost like, ‘look what we can do.'”

The revelry and camaraderie felt by many played out against a truly striking backdrop: crisp blue skies, moderate temperatures, and, thanks to a six-day driving ban that the governor had put in place on Monday, a lack of car pollution that left the enormous mounds of snow stark white. Unimaginable scenes began to unfold: In Cambridge, skiers flocked to the streets in such numbers that they were eventually ordered out of the roads, while across Greater Boston, a contingent of some 400 shoveling volunteers banded together to dig out the MBTA’s tracks in order to help restore rail service.

Christina Robb (former Globe reporter): The snow was this beautiful powder, nice and light—perfect for skiers. While I was walking around looking for stories, I met this rower who was skiing right down the middle of Massachusetts Avenue in Central Square. He couldn’t get to the river to train, so he was doing this instead—he’d gone over the BU bridge and come back. He said it was fabulous.

Governor Dukakis: I remember that Thursday just deciding I wanted a bowl of hot soup. There was a place down on Charles Street at the foot of Beacon Hill, so I and two of my pals headed down there. It was a gorgeous day, with pristine white snow and all these people having a great time on sleds and skis. It was kind of a playground.

Dave Heger (a Dorchester native who was 15 years old at the time): A few friends of mine, we were out tossing the football around. We looked up at the Southeast Expressway and thought, Why don’t we go up there and toss the ball? There were a few patches on the road where the sun had melted things, but you’re talking at least 20 inches of snow in some spots. Just the idea of being out there—it felt like a great escape, almost like, Look what we can do. It was weird.

Steve Nazro: I was living in Watertown at the time, and there was this little market nearby. During the blizzard I went in there every day, and the husband and the wife who owned the place were in there together. I had never seen that before: The husband usually worked one shift and the wife worked the other. One day I’m in there and the wife and I are talking about the storm and she says, “It’s great. We go home at night and we have candles on the table and we actually talk.”

Christina Robb: After maybe four or five days, Dukakis said that essential stores could open. In Harvard Square, that meant bookstores and ice cream stores. People were walking around licking ice cream cones among these piles of snow, and browsing. I remember just feeling this sense of love for where I lived when I saw that these were the essential stores.

Ed Carpenter: It was one of the best weeks I ever spent. There was a restaurant up the corner called T. Anthony’s, and I would go and spend the day there. People were coming in and telling stories and we were just sittin’ around going, “How did you make it? What did you do? Where were you?”

Ian Blackman (a Chichester, New Hampshire, resident who was visiting his parents in Brookline): A few friends and I went cross-country skiing on the Mass. Pike. Who could not do it? There was nobody on it. There was just snow and it was super, super quiet. We went a couple of miles.

Ed Carpenter: Only essential vehicles were allowed on the roads. One day I’m walking down Comm. Ave., and a utility truck stopped in front of the Dugout and opened the back and unloaded a dozen cases of beer. Well, that’s essential: You needed beer at the Dugout.

Kirsten Alexander (was a nine-year-old in Jamaica Plain): Some friends of mine had a husky, and my family had a toboggan. The combination was irresistible. We hitched up the dog to the toboggan, and I ran in front with a hot dog. I was small and not very fast, and the dog caught up to me, got the hot dog, and then ran away.

Ed Forry (publisher of the Dorchester Reporter): Everyone got to know everybody else. We became friends with the people across the street from us, a state trooper and his wife. We’d always said hello before, but there was never enough time—we were in our lives and they were in theirs. All of a sudden he pulled a hibachi out and started cooking steaks. We brought some food out, and then others came, and it just became a very festive thing.

Julie Floodpage (was a social worker living in Jamaica Plain): I had a gas stove and a freezer full of vegetables and a turkey. But when the electricity went off, I knew that turkey wasn’t going to make it. My friend down the street had an electric stove but without power she couldn’t use it. We figured we’d have this great communal dinner at my friend’s house. My most vivid memory about that meal was walking down the middle of the street with this giant, steaming-hot turkey, cutting through this powdery snow that was up to my hips.

Frederick Lovejoy: In Beacon Hill, where everybody usually went about their business, all of a sudden people were having these cookouts. You’d trudge through the streets and you’d invariably get a hot dog. It was amazing: “Here, Doc, have a hot dog on us.”

Maeve Blackman: Walking home at night it was like a fiesta or a huge block party on Charles Street. It was wonderful.

5. “Suddenly, we’re all back to being our regular selves.”

By Monday, February 13, a full week after the blizzard hit, a good portion of the city had returned to form. The Red Cross shelters had emptied, the driving ban had lifted, and people were heading back to work. But the return to normalcy brought with it a touch of regret.

Christina Robb: The closer people got to being able to drive, that’s when I’d say the possessiveness over the parking spaces started to get serious. They had put so much energy into digging out those spaces, and the idea then that someone would just come along and just use it? I think in the beginning, people understood that might happen. After a while, it got kind of old.

Governor Dukakis: Every time I’d speak somewhere, for months afterward, I’d be presented with another sweater—I think I had 20 of them. I had to start giving them away.

Ed Carpenter: The most frustrating thing about it was that, for a while, everybody was helping each other out: “Can I get you something? Are you okay at home? Do you need to be dug out?” Then suddenly it was gone, and we’re all back to being our regular selves. That to me was like, Ah, can’t we go back to being nice to each other?

Dave Heger: Two years ago, when we got another real bad snowstorm, I was on my way home early and I was in traffic, right at the same area on I-93 where we had played football. I thought, My God, this is the place. If I could jump out now, I would.