All of the city's public and parochial schools were closed, interurban railway lines were at a standstill, and business came to a grinding halt. Emergency measures were recommended by community leaders. Frugal use of milk was urged for the duration of the crisis, for milk deliveries from the countryside were impossible. Residents were encouraged to limit their use of telephones to only the most urgent calls; nevertheless, the Auburn exchange of the New York Telephone Company reported a record 92,889 local calls during the twenty-four hour period ending at midnight on Friday. Huge drifts made most of the city's streets impassable, and motorists were discourage dfrom even attempting to drive. The police transported to the maternity ward of Auburn City Hospital those women whose babies chose to enter the workd on an already difficult weekend. The police station and the city recorder's courtroom were transformed into a barracks for shopworkers stranded downtown.
Sheriff Willard Wilcox furnished quarters for ten German prisoners of war employed in the Procino and Rossi macaroni factory, as they could not be transported to the prisoner of war camp at Howland's Island in the Town of Conquest. A handful of sailors from the Sampson Naval Station in nearby Geeneva likewise became involuntary residents of Auburn for the weekend. Perhaps the most frustrated of all those stranded in the city, however, was Army Technical Sergeant Jerry Wheat of Moravia. After serving two years in Greenland, he was eager to spend as much of his long-awaited furlough in his hometown, where he had planned regale friends and family with tales of Arctic ice and snow.
By Saturday, mountains of soggy snow had begun to turn to ice. Business leaders made clear to city hall that an intensive and immediate snow removal effort was necessary. Mayor Edward T. Boyle and City Manager George Train secured a bulldozer for this purpose, and urgently requested the assistance of the German prisoners of war interned at Howland's Island. The Army acceded to the request of the city, and seventy-five prisoners of war, many of whom were young boys, were dispatched for the smow removal detail. They labored on Saturday and Sunday in the city's central business district under the supervision of their armed guards. The Germans cleared the snow on Genesee Street from Market Street to the post office on the corner of Green Street. Hot coffee, sandwiches and refuge from the bitter cold were provided in the council chambers at Memorial City Hall. Sleeping accommodations were prepared for the prisoners at the National Guard armory, but by Saturday night the road to the POW camp was passable and they were returned to the camp for the evening.
By Monday, the city's schools had reopened and most eployees were able to report to work. The downtown business district quickly resumed its normal pace, thanks largely to the efforts of the POWs who, the local press reported, "did their job with German thoroughness and stoutness."
The attention of Auburns was quickly refocused on the war. City residents were proud to learn that one of their own, Cornell University football All-American Jerome "Brud" Holland, would travel with Jesse Owens, hero of the 1936 Olympics, and legendary baseball pitcher Satchel Paige on a USO tour. Ivanhoe Foods on Cottage Street continued to recruit women to work day and night shifts in the local food dehydration plant, noting, of course, that those already employed in "war work" should not apply. Grim telegrams from the War Department continued to arrive at local homes.
The paralyzing winter storm of December 1944 offered Auburnians a brief diversion from the war. The presence of German prisoners of war in the midst of the small Finger Lakes city, however, was a vivid reminder of the conflict that had dramatically affected so many tens of millions of people around the world.
A version of this article appeared initially in The Citizen on 10 December 1992.
