It was Thursday, Sept. 26, 1985. “The Cosby Show” was the most-watched program on television, “The Hunt for Red October” by Tom Clancy was one of the best-selling books on store shelves, and I had graduated from college a few months earlier. I even had a full head of blond hair back then, too.
After taking an early train from Bridgehampton to Penn Station for a job interview on the East Side of Manhattan (I ultimately did not get the job), I grabbed a quick bite to eat and picked up a copy of the afternoon edition of the New York Post, before I climbed aboard a 2 p.m. eastbound train back to my starting point.
The train car was empty except for three other passengers. Replaying in my mind what I did right or wrong in my interview, I rested my arm on the window ledge to my right as we chugged our way past the various towns that dotted the south shore. If there were no delays, which was rare, the ride would take almost three hours.
When I got off at Bridgehampton, the slanted rays of the early fall setting sun contained a spectrum of blazing color. It was if all 64 colors from a carton of Crayola crayons were used to sketch the sky. The air was also incredibly crisp, clear, and clean. There was barely a breath of wind. In weatherman parlance, it would have made the list of the top 10 best days of the year.
However, as I deposited my newspaper in the station-side wastebasket, I was reminded by the jarring front-page headline: “Hurricane Gloria to Slam Long Island.” Not the usual chuckle-worthy creative Post headline. A bad storm was approaching.
Back at my house, which looks eastward over Shelter Island Sound, I quickly turned on the television. There was no cable in our neighborhood, so the options from my rotating antenna limited me to only a few channels. The closest station to us was in New Haven, Conn., an ABC affiliate on channel 8. I was now in the hands of the weathermen Dr. Mel Goldstein and Geoff Fox.
They sounded the alarm bells. Gloria was a powerful Category 3 storm and had just brought a storm surge of 8 to 12 feet to North Carolina’s Outer Banks, with 125-mile-per-hour wind gusts. They advised those in low-lying coastal areas to evacuate and urged people to ensure they had enough food and water if electricity was lost. It was going to get bad quickly, they emphasized. They were right.
Only 10 hours later, the eye of the storm crossed over Fire Island.
I can no longer recall if I slept that night, but if I did, it was very intermittent. By 8 a.m., the winds were strong out of the southeast and several large ships and sailboats were seen scrambling to seek safe anchorage close to shore in the lee of the increasing gusts. An hour later, our house lost power, and not long after the phone line was dead as well. It was time to listen to the battery-powered radio. In this case, WLNG, our local radio station located about three miles away, was now my sole source for news and, most important, the weather.
The ever boisterous Paul Sydney was handling the live broadcast along with his fellow longtime morning disc jockey Gary Sapiane. They humorously interspersed repeated playing of the hit song “Gloria” by Laura Branigan (who ironically lived in Westhampton) with the weather news. The storm was not far off the New Jersey coast and the duo recited a list of shelters where people could hunker down to avoid the wrath of the fast-charging hurricane.
Not one to frighten easily, I payed heed to the warnings and decided to pack a bag and drive off to the gymnasium at Pierson High School in Sag Harbor for safe refuge. I had plenty of company.
Unlike hurricane Dorian, which battered the Bahamas for several days last week, Gloria went by in only a few hours. But those few hours were tense. As I sat in the bleachers, the steel roof of the gymnasium vibrated and creaked with each increasing wind gust, as sheets of rain, tree limbs, and branches pelted it.
Paul Sydney joined us as well, as the WLNG studio was overtaken by the rising tide of Sag Harbor Cove. He continued his broadcast underneath one of the basketball nets. Probably born with a microphone in his right hand, Sydney never had a “stop” button. He lived for such events.
At one point during the height of the storm, a huge gust provoked an audible gasp from the 200 or so who huddled in the gym. Even Sydney looked upwards and paused for a few seconds. We wondered if the roof would hold.
But by 4 p.m., the winds had dropped off significantly. The worst was over. Peering out the gym door, I saw that my maroon Plymouth Horizon car was now completely green, covered in leaves ripped off the trees by the hurricane. I was lucky, as the car parked behind me had a large tree limb resting upon its heavily dented roof. Other cars were also damaged.
As I drove back over the bridge to North Haven and wove through the many tree limbs that littered Route 114, I noticed a dozen or so boats were lying high and dry on the beach. Despite once being held tight by their mushroom anchors, the storm proved more powerful than the craft could handle.
Arriving at home, I was glad to see that our house survived, but others did not fare as well. I gathered up all of my flashlights and candles, and good thing, because it would be eight long days before electricity and phone lines would be restored.
In Sag Harbor the next day, some stores were open, but electricity was out everywhere. A large makeshift sign heralding free ice cream was located just outside the Harbor Deli on Main Street, as well as at the I.G.A. down the street. At least the kids were happy that day. But being without power for such a length of time afforded me an opportunity to appreciate how much we take the daily basics for granted.
I hope I don’t have to go through such an event again, but the odds are not stacked in my favor. Knowing that, I did install a generator in my new house, and I still keep a bunch of candles a few flashlights around just in case.
As for fishing, the aftereffects of Dorian played a significant part as the winds and turbulent seas kept many anglers away from boat and shoreline for several days. However, by Sunday afternoon, the ocean was settling down and fishing began to rebound.
“The water temperatures dropped a good bit after the storm,” observed Harvey Bennett of the Tackle Shop in Amagansett. I can personally attest to his words, as the bay temperatures dropped five degrees to about 70. “This was basically an early fall northeaster and should shake up the fishing for the better. I went down to the ocean wash at Napeague early on Sunday morning and landed a bunch of nice striped bass before the sun came up.”
Bennett added that blowfish remain thick, along with snappers, porgies and kingfish, and that Spanish mackerel, bonito, hickory shad, and a few false albacore are roaming around. “There is a ton of bait in the bays and in the ocean,” he said. “The fall season is here.”
Connoisseurs of bluefin tuna will be happy to know that the fish have arrived close to Montauk. “The fish up to 100 pounds were about 11 to 12 miles to the southeast of Montauk before the storm,” said Capt. Michael Potts of the aptly named charter boat Bluefin IV. “And after doing some good bottom fishing for sea bass and cod on Sunday, we went back to the spot and the bluefins were still there. It’s been at least 10 years since the fish have been this close to Montauk.”
Want to check out a finely crafted Sage fishing rod? Then Castoberfest may be to your liking. Sage Rods, in conjunction with Capt. Tim O’Rourke of Montauk Fly Fishing, will hold the event at the Montauk Lake Club on Sept. 29 and 30 from 2 to 7 p.m. each day.
“It should be a great time,” said O’Rourke. “We will raffle off a number of prizes including a Sage rod and reel, a Fishpond gear bag, a box stocked with flies, Yeti cooler gear, and I’m giving a half-day charter on my boat. Everyone who attends will receive a free raffle ticket.” More tickets will be sold at the event for $20 or three for $50. The Montauk Brewing Company will supply the beer while North Fork Iron Works is coordinating the barbecue over both days.
We welcome your fishing tips, observations, and photographs at [email protected].