Hurricane Ivan pounds coastline

By Gary Fineout, Oscar Corral and Martin Merzer
Knight Ridder Newspapers

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Even before nightfall, tornadoes spawned by the storm killed two people in Panama City Beach, in Florida's Bay County. The scene was described as resembling "a war zone." Ivan's death toll now stands at 70.

It was only the beginning. As its core neared the Gulf Coast, Ivan maintained its 130-mph winds and dreadful designation as a Category 4 hurricane.

Piers crumbled. The Gulf of Mexico covered barrier islands and coastal roads, a salt-water blanket pulled ever higher. Fifty-foot waves towered offshore.

Widespread destruction seemed assured.

"We're right in the dead zone," said Richard Griner, a restaurant owner in Pensacola.

Ivan was so large that it was not expected to clear the region until Thursday evening, a full 24 hours of natural terror. Once it moves inland, Ivan threatened, among other things, to breed perilous floods over the Southeast.

It was Florida's third encounter with a hurricane during this remarkably brutal, not-yet-over season. Of all the hurricane misery endured so far this year, this could be the worst.

"This is one of those complete storms," said Craig Fugate, Florida's emergency management director. "Storm surge — significant to catastrophic. Flooding — significant to catastrophic. Winds — significant to catastrophic. Tornadoes, depending on where they touch down — significant to catastrophic."

Ivan's muscular core was predicted to drill into the coast around Mobile, Ala., at 2 a.m. Thursday. Hurricane-force winds raged 105 miles in every direction from the center. As a Category 4 storm, it sat just one notch below the top of the scale.

In Mobile, emergency shelter manager Joyce Kyles picked up her bullhorn at 2 p.m. and strolled through the sea of bodies and bedding.
 
"We are about to have some seriously bad weather," she said, her voice as stern as a drill sergeant's. "I need to get your children inside. Take my word for it, get your children inside. The weather is turning against us, people."

One of many indicators of the immediate future: Scores of firefighters and paramedics from the city of Miami stood ready in Jacksonville, deployed in advance for post-storm search and rescue duty.

Throughout the day and night, steadily widening sheets of rain, steadily intensifying bursts of wind bullied a region that ranged from west of New Orleans to east of Tallahassee.

By nightfall, rain tore horizontally over desolate streets and roads. On the roads, taillights and headlights of the few cars were swallowed by the gray mist.

"This is my first hurricane and it's freaking me out," said Marco Carroll, 24, of Fort Walton Beach.

Twelve-foot waves boomed ashore at Gulf Shores, Ala., 18 hours ahead of Ivan's worst effects. A buoy in the Gulf of Mexico 75 miles from Dauphin Island, Ala., registered waves 50 feet high. Televised reports from neighboring Alabama showed Dauphin already flooded.

One early defeat: A 20-foot chunk of the Navarre Beach pier in Florida's Santa Rosa County collapsed under the force of enormous waves. Another: The gulf flooded portions of U.S. 98.

"Look at this, and we haven't even seen the beginning," said Fort Walton Beach resident Lane Milton, who was evacuating her house with her fiance and two children.

The last restaurant open in Fort Walton Beach, Popeyes Fried Chicken, closed at 2 p.m. Even then, they were turning away potential clients after making as much money in three hours as they typically would in a whole day.

"We're going to go down with a chicken wing in our hands," said assistant manager Ray Carrasco, originally from Miami Lakes. "We wanted to make sure all the people still out there had a place to go eat."

To expedite the flight of the last evacuees, Interstate 65 in Alabama was turned into an all-northbound escape route. About 2 million people were told to leave coastal areas endangered by the storm, including 1.2 million in the New Orleans area.

Just after 5 a.m. today, a New Orleans rock station played R.E.M.'s "It's The End of The World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)." The station dedicated the song "to all the people stuck on I-10."

As night arrived and the storm's grip tightened, it appeared that the hurricane's core would strike east of the extremely vulnerable, bowl-like city.

But New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin warned that hurricane-force winds still posed a danger. The city opened the Louisiana Superdome as a special shelter only for people with handicaps or medical problems.

"We're not quite out of the woods," he said.

Earlier today, with ominous gray clouds rushing past, bringing tropical storm-force gusts higher than 39 mph and the first sheets of rain, the last few signs of human activity faded from Pensacola.

Nearly every gasoline station and restaurant was closed. A few hardy souls drove their cars through city streets. Local officials urged them and other stragglers to take shelter immediately.

Some heeded the plea, filing into a roadside motel, lugging clothes in garbage bags and coolers of food and water. Post-storm power outages could persist for weeks. Pensacola Beach resident Hank Geier, and his wife, Shelly, moved into a motel Tuesday night.

"We've been out here a long time," said Geier, 58. "I'm not afraid of a Category 1 or even a Category 2 hurricane. But when it comes to a Category 3 storm, I'm out of there."

Pensacola remained on the eastern side — the worst side — of Ivan's expected landfall, meaning the region could be pummeled with devastating winds as well as a storm surge more than 10-feet high along the beach.

"It's going to take a lot of patience and prayers in here," Michael Hardin, Escambia County's emergency management director, told a room filled with emergency workers.

The approach of a storm of this magnitude erased most doubts about the necessity or wisdom of evacuating. By midday, shelters at the University of West Florida and the Pensacola Civic Center were reported full.

Inside the civic center, American Red Cross volunteers laid out large stockpiles of water and had several forklifts ready for duty.

Shelter manager Timothy Ehly said he planned to keep evacuees inside the main arena, but was told early today that the roof might give way during the storm. He considered moving more than 1,300 people into other rooms at the center.

"I'm not planning on turning anyone away," Ehly said. "But I'm not sure how close their cheeks will be."

Miami Herald staff writers Marc Caputo, Elaine De Valle and Michael Vasquez and Melody McDonald of Fort Worth Star-Telegram in Mobile contributed to this report.