At about 3 p.m. on Thursday, Oct. 12 - before the downed trees, power outages and school closings - UB was a picture-perfect scene. With a light white dusting on the tips and tops of trees, I called it the First Flakes of Winter.
I sent out a photographer to capture the moment.
At about 5 p.m. that same Thursday, the still-falling flakes began to accumulate, turning my title-friendly landscape into a full-on Winter Wonderland.
Another photographer was bundled up and sent on assignment.
At about 9 p.m. the sky was dark and parts of Buffalo were darker. Trees down and power out, the dreamland became a nightmare. Not sure of what might happen next, the media throughout the city had no choice but to describe the event as "unexpected" and "unseasonably early."
An official name for the snowfall that crippled a region and indirectly claimed lives would have to wait.
More specifically, wait about a week.
In Sunday's Buffalo News, a box at the bottom of the front page proclaimed a special section coming out in the next paper recapping the October Surprise.
That's right, the October Surprise. Capitalized.
Now it is completely within the News' jurisdiction to name a major Buffalo storm. Radio and TV don't generally put much down on paper for the world, leaving the major newspaper in town to set the standard.
Explorers name mountains. Astronomers name stars. Editors name storms.
To their credit, the storm was both in October and was, in fact, a surprise; their name was one that "long time listeners, first time callers of WBEN" used when ranting on the air. Factually, it's completely correct. But with the chance to be witty, creative and (for once, it's rare) a bit sensationalistic, so much more could have been done.
Even though it was only short term, why not something like Snowpocalypse? It combines the weather and the way everyone felt about the aftermath. Plus, it suits the popular references to Buffalo being like Hell, and the then funnier concept of Hell freezing over.
Or why not try Thundersnow? It's still fairly accurate, and reminiscent of a James Bond classic. The thought of stolen nuclear bombs is ripe for parody with the damage the storm caused, and maybe Sean Connery would come dedicate a plaque at city hall a few years from now.
Some possibilities The Spectrum staff have tried out in the newsroom include Octo-blizzard (Justin Haag) and Four Day Freakend (Christopher Caporlingua, specifically for UB). They may not make headlines anytime soon, but at least they're trying.
Even Facebook messages and e-mail forwards have been a forum for title creativity. One letter asking for cleanup volunteers went around UB simply titled Hurricane Canada.
The National Weather Service has pretty strict rules on what is and isn't a hurricane (and what is and isn't from Canada), but maybe they could let this one slide.
Perhaps the News just decided to play it safe, especially after seeing ArtVoice with Arborgeddon printed across its front cover last week.
A wordplay also tried by the on-campus Reporter, the quip lost its luster faster than the quaint serenity of Buffalo life without power (or groceries, or water).
The effort, however, still deserves applause.
Beyond reporting, writing and editing, part of working in journalism is having an instinct for when something is big. This storm, this October Surprise, was about as big as weather stories come, and the title just doesn't live up. A surprise, by connotation, is finding a few extra french fries under a cheeseburger at the bottom of the Burger King bag (bagglers) or bumping into an old high school friend in line at the DMV.
A devastating storm, especially an unexpected and unpredictable one, is a bit more than an average surprise. But since it's too late to retract it, it's time to move on. So let it be written, so let it be done.
Besides, my name for the snowstorm, October Onslaught, is pretty versatile. I might use it to title a synopsis about the Sabres.
Photo: Courtesy of Laron Fomby
