A look back
1967 snow crisis met by massive rescue effort
By Bill Donovan
Special to the Times
WINDOW ROCK, Dec. 12, 2011
For several days, beginning Dec. 11, 1967, the Navajo Nation endured the worst snows in its recorded history, prompting an all-out rescue effort involving tribal, state and federal resources.
The most vulnerable were those who were out in the forests gathering the pinon harvest. Rescue crews combed the Forest Lake and Pinon areas west of Chinle to rescue as many as 200 Navajos, including women and children, who were caught in a snowfall that never seemed to end.
Last week, the Navajo Times recounted the 1931 effort to rescue as many as 1,000 Navajos and Zunis who were caught in snowstorms south of Gallup. As many as 11 people were believed to have died during that incident.
The 1967 storm didn't affect as many people - and didn't have as many deaths - but the snows were deeper, making it harder for ground crews to reach the area and bring people into to Chinle, according to news accounts of the time.
Then Navajo Police Lt. Paul Tsosie told reporters police were having a very hard time getting to the area.
"There's only wagon trails into where they are at," he said of those stranded, "and a lot of snow."
A total of 36 inches of snow fell on Diné Bikeyah that week, leaving residents stranded all over the reservation. Chapter leaders worked with tribal agencies, state officials and the Air Force to get food and supplies to thousands of Navajo families trapped in their homes.
60,000 suffering
But most of the attention was on the effort to help pinon pickers who were feared to be out on Black Mesa with no shelter from the cold and snow.
Six days after the snow started falling, then Navajo Police Capt. Emerson Goldtooth told reporters that the last time anyone had talked to the pinon gatherers was Dec. 11. He had led a group of rescuers to the area on Dec. 15, but the group had to turn back because of the snow.
There was hope, however, since the rescuers could see a fire on the mesa believed to be built by some of the pickers trapped there.
There were also reports of people seeing flashes of light from mirrors, a common form of communication at the time among sheepherders and others who were out on the land and needed to get someone's attention.
Helicopters from Luke Air Force Base in Phoenix, Cannon Air Force Base in New Mexico, and Edwards Air Force Base in California arrived and began making supply drops as soon as the snow let up but the pilots said flying conditions were so bad during the first three days of rescue operations, they could find no one.
Goldtooth said some of those caught out by the snow were known to have a little protection, such as camper units on their pickups or other camping gear.
But BIA officials were estimating by Dec. 18 that as many as 60,000 Navajos were suffering from the cold and lack of food, although by that time the helicopters had managed to drop hundreds of tons of food to stranded families.
Finally, a week after it started, the snow began letting up and helicopter crews continued airlifting food to stranded families. The Indian Health Service and the Air Force also brought in doctors who went with some of the helicopters to deal with any medical emergencies.
On Dec. 19, 1967, reports began coming in that the stranded pinon pickers were able to get to Chinle in the early morning hours when the snow was frozen. None was reported to be in serious condition after their week in the snow.
Navajo Tribal Council Chairman Raymond Nakai, in an interview that day, declared the storm and its impact on the Navajo people "the critical period of modern Navajo history."
All-out effort to help
Helicopter pilots flying over the area on Dec. 19 and 20 said wherever they went, they saw Navajo families rushing outside and waving blankets as distress signals.
Ralph Burns, a White House aide to then President Lyndon B. Johnson, was dispatched to the reservation to personally assess the situation and report back on conditions here.
By Dec. 20, the crisis was beginning to ease, at least for people. Many families in remote parts of the reservation were now saying they had enough food to last until they could get to town and re-supply, but needed hay for their sheep.
On Dec. 19, the helicopters that had been bringing in food were now dropping bales of hay to stranded outfits.
However, Nakai said, the helicopters that were being used could only carry 10 or fewer bales on a run.
"We need bigger helicopters," he said, and again help came.
The Air Force sent a couple of cargo planes that could carry large quantities of hay on a single flight. But this approach had to be abandoned because they flew so much higher and faster than helicopters that the bales frequently burst apart on impact, according to Dick Hardwick, editor of the Navajo Times at the time.
The hay was too scattered to do any good for livestock that were having a very difficult time getting through the snowdrifts.
By Dec. 20, clearing skies signaled the end of the worst snowstorm in modern Navajo history, but the Associated Press reported that plunging temperatures and flooding posed new threats to the Navajo people.
Tribal police were reporting on that day that families in many areas of the reservation still had snow as deep as three feet and snowdrifts as high as a house.
There were three confirmed deaths, all from exposure: an infant less than a week old, a 2-year-old boy and a 60-year-old sheepherder.
BIA school officials said 22,000 students were expected to remain at school, despite the Christmas break, until the snow melted enough for their parents to come and get them.
The state of Wisconsin said it would send 20 Snowcats, capable of traveling under almost any snow condition, to help in the rescue effort.
Meanwhile, the federal General Services Administration in Denver loaded several trucks with 2,000 blankets for delivery to stranded Navajo and Hopi families.
Nakai finally declared the emergency over on Dec. 27, the last date when helicopter flights went out, but said it would take several more weeks before life on the reservation returned to normal.