Hurricane Celia

The Storm That Fooled Everyone

Celia formed as a tropical depression west of the Cayman Islands on July 30. By August 1, it had become a tropical storm entering the Gulf after clipping western Cuba. It rapidly intensified — the pressure dropped 25 millibars in just eight hours. Then it weakened in wind shear, dropping to 90 mph, and forecasters predicted it would turn northward. Some families on the island decided to stay.

They were wrong. On the morning of August 3, Celia underwent a second rapid intensification that was virtually unprecedented. The pressure plummeted 44 millibars in 15 hours — from 988 to 944 millibars. By the time it made landfall near Aransas Pass, it carried sustained winds between 125 and 140 miles per hour, with gusts estimated at 180 mph.

The Microbursts

What made Celia scientifically unique — and personally terrifying — were the microbursts. Dr. Robert Simpson, director of the National Hurricane Center, later described them as "a succession of long streaks of heavy damage" with "small pockets of high energy winds radially spaced from north to south at interval lengths of a mile or more" that "raked across Corpus Christi from west to east."

This is why one house was completely gone while the house next door stood untouched. Survivors independently compared the experience to tornado strikes rather than typical hurricane damage. Jim Cole described the damage pattern as "two tornadoes went across town, like an X." Bill Behrens put it more simply: about one-third of the town had minor damage, one-third had major damage, and in the last third, "all that was left was just pilings, the deck, and the commode."

“About one-third of the town had minor damage. In the last third, all that was left was just pilings, the deck, and the commode.”

— Bill Behrens, Port Aransas resident

The Island After the Eye

The damage was staggering. The roof of Family Center IGA was completely torn away. The exterior wall of Port Aransas Mercantile was destroyed — but merchandise still sat on the shelves inside. The Seahorse Lodge cottages were stripped of their roofs. Aluminum boats were found wrapped around power poles. A 55-gallon drum of oil crashed through Totsy Belcher's front door.

The Marlin Queen, a 65-foot party boat, was blown from her moorings, floated over a parking lot on the surge, and was impaled on pilings as the water receded. Annetta Milina's father's charter boat was split in half across Cut-off Road — the bow on one side, the stern on the other. Boats were blown as far as the Portland Causeway.

The Tarpon Inn, built by James M. Ellis in 1925 with pine poles sunk in 16 to 20 feet of concrete, survived but was badly damaged. It would take five years and a change of ownership before it reopened in 1975. The famous tarpon scales in the lobby — including FDR's — survived.

What the Survivors Remember

Dee Wallace was 15 years old. She sheltered under a mattress in the bathroom with water up to her chin, holding her floating brother's head above the water, glass embedded in her back.

Macky Ward was 9. He remembered the eye: "Just a gray color to the sky, there were no clouds and it was perfectly calm and eerie."

Billy Gaskins was 14. He was inside the IGA grocery store when the roof lifted off. After the storm, he found his dog and his monkey alive.

DeLana Littleton was 18. Her home was reduced to "just a concrete slab." But in another house nearby, a whiskey cup sat undisturbed on a pool table despite the roof being gone.

Johnny Roberts watched his roof "beginning to breathe up and down" before retreating to an underground garage called Summer Place.

Pearl Beer and Community Barbecues

In the days after Celia, Port Aransas had no electricity, no potable water, and no air conditioning in the Texas August heat. Sand covered every street. Mosquitoes were relentless. Residents slept outdoors.

The Pearl Beer brewery in San Antonio bottled drinking water in beer bottles and shipped them to the island. Volunteers at the ferry landing appeared to be drinking beer but were actually drinking water from Pearl bottles.

The Red Cross set up at the Community Center distributing ice, water, and meals. The Seventh-day Adventist Church served free hot meals every night. The National Guard deployed for search and rescue. And across the island, families pulled freezer food outside and cooked it communally before it spoiled — the first of many community barbecues that would become a Port Aransas tradition in the aftermath of every storm.

The ferries had been relocated to Corpus Christi for protection before landfall. With no ferry service and bridges along Island Road washed out, the island was cut off. Butch Ousley piloted his headboat Lady Lorene from Port Aransas to Harbor Island to ferry stranded evacuees back — the island's lifeline in those first critical days.

The Cost of Coming Back

Celia caused $930 million in damage in 1970 dollars — approximately $3.1 billion adjusted to 2020. At the time, it was the costliest tropical cyclone in Texas history. President Nixon declared a dozen counties disaster areas.

Many Port Aransas residents could not afford to rebuild. Properties were abandoned. Federal trailers were distributed — Jane Thompson, a first-grade teacher, lived in a Mobile Scout camper for five months. Returning residents were required to get vaccinations before re-entry. The town generally stabilized by 1972, two full years after the storm.

Dan Parker was 9 years old during Celia. He still lives in the same house. Alex Porter was 13 — he grew up to become one of Port Aransas's most respected fishing guides.

Hurricane Junction

Port Aransas has experienced 43 hurricanes since 1930. The book "Hurricane Junction: A History of Port Aransas" by Cyril Matthew Kuehne takes its title from this fact. The major destructive sequence runs: 1916, 1919, 1961 (Carla), 1970 (Celia), and 2017 (Harvey).

The 1919 hurricane was worse by every measure. The surge reached 12 to 15 feet. Oil tanks ruptured and victims were swept into the bay coated in heavy crude oil. The death toll may have exceeded 1,000. The town was depopulated and had to be resettled from scratch.

Hurricane Harvey in 2017 damaged 100% of Port Aransas businesses and 85% of homes. But the pattern Celia established — community barbecues, neighbor helping neighbor, the refusal to leave permanently — held. Each rebuilding cycle, though, comes with a cost that isn't measured in dollars: the destruction of affordable housing pushes low-income residents off the island for good, making the town a little wealthier, a little less diverse, and a little less like the place it used to be.

“Everyone pulled together, neighbors jumped in and helped each other.”

— Jane Thompson, Celia survivor