"There I was, standing out in the front yard, watching water come up in the middle of the street. They tell us there's a tropical storm in the middle of the Gulf."

"But you just don't have hurricane conditions in February."

"The water kept coming and coming and coming. But there was no storm."

According to the U.S. Weather Bureau, a freak tropical storm surges in the Gulf of Mexico. Almost without warning, nine-foot tides threaten Brownwood, a small, exclusive subdivision perched on an out-of-the-way peninsula in waters above Galveston Bay, just outside Houston city limits.

E.A. Volbrecht, chief meteorologist for the local offices of the Weather Bureau later tells local officials that "the unusual combination of circumstances which produced the tide and the high winds could not have been predicted."

Residents get only a hurried warning to evacuate, from a police truck blaring messages through the streets. Kids, pets, and a few belongings packed quickly inside, cars form long lines along the lone safe route to high ground, waiting for a chance to wade or bob across intervening stretches of high water. The flood damages at least 100 of the more than 400 homes in the subdivision.

By 3 a.m., the rising tide slows, and many residents return to their homes. But shortly before 6 a.m., the water suddenly rises eight inches in 15 minutes, and the evacuation order is renewed.

Volbrecht later tells officials he has no scientific explanation for the resurgence.

Brownwood resident Jeff Brown spends much of the night and early morning hours moving furniture and neighbors to higher ground. At one point he is wading in chilly February water up to his waist. "It's the closest thing to hypothermia I've ever experienced," he says later.

The water acts strangely. There isn't any in the Browns' front yard, but inside it's on the wall, up to the window. You can see it moving up.

At a neighbor's house, there's a four-foot difference in the height of the water from the front of the house to the back.

The Browns' home has been built to withstand a hurricane: all the living quarters are on the second floor. Most of their appliances still work; they just can't go downstairs.

After much of the excitement dies down, and neighbors gather in their upstairs kitchen, the Browns do about the only thing they can.

They cook a big breakfast.

Jean Shepherd. Photos courtesy Brownwood Civic Association archives.

Brown family house under construction, 1968. Courtesy J.T. and Suzanne Brown.