Pittsburghers have seen it all when it comes to wild weather. Living at the confluence of three rivers and in the path of both northern blizzards and southern storm systems means the Steel City’s history is peppered with epic floods, legendary blizzards, howling winds, and even the occasional tornado. In true Pittsburgh fashion, each storm has become part of local lore – tales swapped over Primanti Bros sandwiches or at the neighborhood block party. Below, we recount 10 of the most historic storms to hit Pittsburgh, with a lively look at their dates, what kind of storm they were, how they impacted the city, memorable anecdotes, and the lasting legacy each left behind.
1. The Pittsburgh Flood of 1907 (March 15–16, 1907) –
The First “Big Flood”
In March 1907, Pittsburgh experienced its first truly Great flood of the 20th century – a deluge so severe locals simply called it “The Big Flood”. A rapid combination of spring snowmelt and heavy rain caused the Ohio, Allegheny, and Monongahela rivers to swell dramatically . Waters rose overnight with frightening speed; within five hours, hundreds of homes (especially on the North Side, then called Allegheny City) were submerged up to their second floors . One Pittsburgh Press report described the flooded North Side as “like Venice,” with rowboats navigating what had been city streets . Many residents were caught off guard and angered by the lack of warning as they scrambled to save belongings.
Impact: Downtown Pittsburgh and riverfront neighborhoods were inundated. The rivers crested around March 16 at 36.6 feet at the Point , a record at that time. Initial estimates of damage were a staggering $20 million, later revised to about $5 million (still huge in 1907) . Tragically, the human toll was significant – at least 27 people lost their lives in the flood . As the waters receded within about 24 hours, Pittsburgh’s spirit of resilience kicked in. Clean-up was swift; by two days later, businesses downtown had begun reopening and streetcars were running where tracks weren’t washed out .
Legacy: The 1907 flood served as a wake-up call about Pittsburgh’s flood vulnerability. It sparked decades of debate about flood control, though little action was taken immediately. High-water marks from 1907 on some buildings stood as a challenge – one that Pittsburgh wouldn’t fully address until an even bigger flood (see 1936) forced the issue. Old-timers would refer back to 1907 as the benchmark – until it was surpassed by an even more devastating flood 29 years later.
2. The Great St. Patrick’s Day Flood (March 17–18, 1936) – Downtown Underwater
Downtown Pittsburgh submerged during the Great St. Patrick’s Day Flood of 1936. This view at Liberty Avenue shows floodwaters reaching midway up first-floor storefronts.
If you think Pittsburgh’s rivers run high during a normal spring, imagine them 20+ feet above flood stage. In March 1936, a perfect storm of a snowy winter, sudden warm weather, and torrential rain led to Pittsburgh’s worst flood in history . On St. Patrick’s Day, water began pouring into the Golden Triangle; by the next day (March 18) the Ohio River at the Point crested at 46.4 feet, nearly double the 25-foot flood stage . Downtown Pittsburgh was effectively underwater. Rowboats and makeshift rafts became the preferred way to travel downtown as streets turned into canals. Water reached the second story of buildings like the Jenkins Arcade and Horne’s Department Store; streetcars on Penn Avenue were submerged up to their rooflines. The city went dark and silent as power stations flooded and the din of mills ceased.
Impact: This flood was absolutely catastrophic. An estimated 69 people in the city died (over 100 regionally) during the disaster . About 65% of downtown businesses were swamped by floodwaters – essentially everything from the Point up to Grant Street was under muddy water . Total property damage in the Pittsburgh region was pegged around $250 million in 1936 dollars (equivalent to billions today) . Over 60,000 steelworkers were idled as mills along the rivers were inundated . Martial law was declared downtown to prevent looting, and the National Guard was brought in to assist . Refugee centers were set up for the 50,000 people who were displaced and sought shelter with the Red Cross . Photographs from this flood – showing Downtown landmarks half-submerged – still adorn museum walls and the memories of older Pittsburgh families.
Anecdote: Many buildings still have small high-water mark plaques showing the 1936 flood level – often well above the front door. There are stories of Pittsburghers canoeing through Downtown streets, and of one enterprising soul who famously rowed a boat into his favorite bar’s second-story window to have a St. Patrick’s Day drink (folklore perhaps, but it speaks to our dark humor).
Legacy: The Great Flood of 1936 is the reason Pittsburgh doesn’t flood like that anymore. In its aftermath, it was classified as a “500-year flood” , and it finally spurred the federal government to act. The Flood Control Act of 1936 authorized a system of flood control reservoirs upstream. By the 1940s and ’50s, the Army Corps of Engineers built a network of 16 flood control dams in the rivers’ headwaters. These projects were completed just in time to save Pittsburgh from future disasters – as we’ll see in the 1972 entry, those reservoirs proved their worth. The 1936 flood is etched in local memory as the worst natural disaster in Pittsburgh history , often simply referred to as “The Great Flood.” Even today, visitors to places like the Smithfield Street Bridge or the Pennsylvanian lobby can find markers showing how high the muddy waters reached in ’36 – a humbling reminder of Mother Nature’s power.
3. “The Big Snow” – Thanksgiving Blizzard of 1950 (Nov 24–26, 1950) –
Snowbound Steel City
While floods may have terrorized Pittsburgh in spring, the city’s winters have had their own legendary siege. The Thanksgiving weekend blizzard of 1950 is remembered as “The Big Snow” – the granddaddy of all Pittsburgh snowstorms. Starting on November 24 (the day after Thanksgiving) and lasting through the 26th, a record 27.4 inches of snow dumped on the Pittsburgh region . This remains the largest snowfall from a single storm in Pittsburgh’s recorded history . Temperatures plunged to around 5°F, turning the city into a frozen, drift-filled landscape .
Impact: The city ground to a halt under waist-deep snow drifts. Rural roads were completely impassable, and even city streets became parking lots of stranded vehicles. Snow piled so high that houses were half-buried – a famous photo shows a child in Peters Township standing next to a car that’s almost entirely under snow . Ambulances couldn’t get through in some areas; volunteers with bulldozers and WWII-era Army surplus trucks had to clear paths . The storm system was part of the larger “Great Appalachian Storm of 1950,” which affected multiple states. In the Ohio Valley and Appalachians it was rated an Category 5 extreme storm by NOAA, contributing to at least 160 deaths across the region (several in Western PA from heart attacks while shoveling or accidents). In Pittsburgh, countless Thanksgiving plans were upended as families found themselves snowed in. The city’s trolley and bus services were suspended during the height of the blizzard; even the iconic Duquesne Incline stopped running due to snow and ice buildup.
Anecdotes: Pittsburghers stepped up to help each other in true neighborly fashion. There are stories of neighbors forming “bucket brigades” of shoveling – everyone on the block pitching in to clear one family’s driveway, then moving to the next. One family in North Huntingdon had to hike miles to a farm for milk because roads were unusable . Another tale recalls how a father-to-be in the North Hills walked a mile through snow after abandoning his car, desperate to get home in time for his child’s birth . Local newspapers christened it “Snowbound Thanksgiving”, with headlines about the “Storm of the Century” (little did they know another storm in 1993 would steal that title).
Legacy: The 1950 Big Snow set the benchmark for Pittsburgh winter storms. It taught the city valuable lessons in emergency preparedness for winter weather – after 1950, the city invested in more snow plows (including heavy equipment that could double as plows) and developed better plans for keeping essential services running during blizzards. For decades, Pittsburghers would compare every big snowfall to 1950: “Is this as bad as the Thanksgiving Snow?” they’d ask. Few storms ever came close. To this day, the 1950 blizzard remains the gold standard of Pittsburgh snowstorms, fondly (or not so fondly) remembered by those who lived through it as the time when the Steel City literally froze in its tracks under mountains of snow.
4. Hurricane Agnes Flood (June 23–24, 1972) –
The Reservoirs Hold the Line
Summer 1972 brought a different kind of watery threat. Hurricane Agnes, one of the costliest hurricanes in U.S. history at the time, swept up the East Coast in June and, after weakening to a tropical storm, unloaded torrential rains across Pennsylvania. By late June, the remnants of Agnes stalled over the state, pouring 7–10 inches of rain on the Pittsburgh area in just a few days . The ground was already saturated from earlier storms, so all that water had nowhere to go but into the rivers and creeks. Pittsburgh braced for another catastrophic flood like 1936. Rivers rose rapidly on June 23, and by the next morning the Allegheny River in Pittsburgh crested at 35.8 feet – which is 11 feet above flood stage, but crucially still about 10 feet lower than the 1936 record crest .
Impact: Make no mistake, Agnes caused major flooding in Pittsburgh – the worst in decades – but it could have been even worse. Thanks to the network of upstream flood control dams built after 1936, the flood crest was reduced dramatically. Engineers later calculated that without those reservoirs holding back water, the rivers would have hit an unfathomable 48 feet, surpassing 1936’s level . Even so, downtown’s Point State Park and the Mon Wharf were submerged, low-lying sections of the North Side and South Side saw significant flooding, and hundreds of residents in riverfront communities had to evacuate. The Allegheny River stayed above flood stage for about two days, keeping the city on edge.
The damage in the Pittsburgh metro was extensive: bridges, roads, and some homes along the rivers suffered. The Pennsylvania National Guard was mobilized to assist with evacuations. By the time the waters receded, Pittsburgh alone had about $91 million in flood damage (and that’s 1972 dollars) . However, it was far worse downstream on the Susquehanna River (places like Wilkes-Barre were devastated). Locally, headlines praised the “flood control dams” for saving Pittsburgh from a repeat of 1936. It was noted that every reservoir did its job – the Allegheny Reservoir (Kinzua Dam) was nearly at capacity, holding back four feet of what would have been flood crest .
Anecdote: One memorable story from Agnes involves the American Wind Symphony Orchestra, which was scheduled to perform on a barge in the Allegheny River at Tarentum on June 20, 1972. The first performance was literally rained out by Agnes’s downpours. The persistent musicians tried again the next night in the rain and actually played a few songs for a drenched audience (including a CBS News crew filming a segment for Charles Kuralt’s “On the Road”) . But by week’s end, that same barge had to be secured as the river current grew dangerously fast. It was a small cultural footnote amid the chaos.
Legacy: Hurricane Agnes reinforced the value of Pittsburgh’s flood defenses. Officials credited the system of flood control reservoirs for preventing an even greater disaster – as noted, the crest was held to 35.8 feet instead of a potential 48 feet . After Agnes, there was renewed investment in flood forecasting and emergency response. The flood also led to improvements in how the city manages stormwater drainage, since some flash flooding occurred in neighborhoods from overwhelmed sewers. Agnes was a reminder that even though Pittsburgh is far from the ocean, tropical weather can still pack a punch here via rainfall. To this day, Agnes (1972) ranks among the worst floods in Pittsburgh since ’36 – but also as a success story for engineering. Local lore often describes how “the rivers would’ve swallowed the Point again if not for those dams up north.” Agnes’s legacy in Pittsburgh is one of close call and gratitude that the city dodged the worst-case scenario.
5. Western Pennsylvania Tornado Outbreak (May 31, 1985) –
Twisters on the Horizon
When people think “Pittsburgh weather,” tornadoes usually aren’t top of mind – which is why the tornado outbreak of May 31, 1985 remains so startling in local history. On that late spring evening, an unusually intense severe weather setup spawned a swarm of twisters across Ohio, Pennsylvania, New York, and Ontario. It turned out to be the deadliest tornado outbreak of the 1980s in the U.S., and Western Pennsylvania was right in the middle of it . A staggering 43 tornadoes touched down across the multi-state region, including several powerful ones in Pennsylvania . The outbreak killed 89 people in total and injured over 1,000 – with Pennsylvania bearing a large share of that toll.
Impact on Pittsburgh region: Fortunately for the city of Pittsburgh, the worst tornadoes stayed to the north and west. However, areas in the broader Pittsburgh region (Beaver, Butler, Mercer, and Erie counties) were hit extremely hard. An F5 tornado (the highest intensity) ravaged the town of Wheatland, PA (northwest of Pittsburgh), obliterating factories and homes. Closer to Pittsburgh, an F3 tornado tore through parts of Butler and Beaver Counties, injuring over 100 people and causing several fatalities . Even though the city proper was spared a direct hit, many Pittsburghers remember the ominous black skies and news flashes that night. It felt like the entire Western half of the state was under a tornado warning at some point.
Downtown Pittsburgh high-rises actually afforded people a distant view of one massive funnel cloud – there were reports of a tornado’s silhouette visible on the horizon from upper floors, illuminated by lightning. Local TV meteorologists broke into Pirates game broadcasts to warn viewers. A classic Pittsburgh dad joke emerged later about that night: “We don’t get tornadoes here – except when we do, and then we get 20 at once!”
Notable Anecdote: Many in the area remember the Wheatland tornado because a local TV station had crew near there that captured footage of a multi-vortex funnel – eerie stuff that later aired on KDKA and WPXI. The destruction in Wheatland (near Sharon, PA) included a steel mill twisted into ruins and rail cars tossed like toys. Pittsburgh’s own industrial communities took notice – it was sobering to realize a tornado could hit a steel town and flatten it in minutes.
In the immediate Pittsburgh suburbs, the storm system still packed a wallop: straight-line winds gusted over 70 mph in some spots, trees were downed, and many neighborhoods lost power. So even without a twister in city limits, it felt like a huge severe storm event. The next day’s Pittsburgh Post-Gazette headline read something akin to “Tornadoes Carve Deadly Path Through Western PA,” and Pittsburghers woke up to shocking images from just up the road.
Legacy: The 1985 outbreak led to a big leap in tornado awareness and preparedness in the Pittsburgh area. Prior to that, many locals thought tornadoes were mostly a Midwest thing or would dissipate over our hills. May 31, 1985 proved that violent tornadoes can happen here. The event spurred improvements in Doppler radar coverage for Western PA and more frequent tornado drills. It’s one reason you’ll occasionally hear the warning sirens tested in some communities. Thankfully, Pittsburgh has not seen an outbreak of that magnitude since. But for those who remember ’85, the phrase “tornado watch” still sends a chill. It remains a benchmark for severe weather in our region – a night when the sky over the Steel City turned truly dangerous and reminded us that tornado alley paid us a visit.
6. The “Storm of the Century” Blizzard (March 13–14, 1993) –
From Green Parade to Whiteout
March 1993 brought a snowstorm so massive and far-reaching that it was literally dubbed the “Storm of the Century.” Pittsburgh found itself right in the path of this historic blizzard, which struck on the weekend of March 13–14. For context, this same storm dropped snow from Florida to Maine! In Pittsburgh, the timing couldn’t have been more ironic: it hit on St. Patrick’s Day Parade day. What was supposed to be a festive Saturday of green-clad revelry downtown turned into a whiteout. By the morning of March 13, heavy snow was coming down at 2–3 inches per hour . Despite the weather, intrepid Pittsburghers still tried to hold the parade – initially, the parade stepped off as scheduled, with marching bands braving the elements. But Mother Nature had other plans. By midday, conditions were so bad the parade was cut short, and public safety officials urged everyone to get home. The storm dumped about 25 inches of snow in Pittsburgh in less than 24 hours – the city’s third-largest snowfall on record (behind only 1950 and an 1890 storm).
Impact: The city effectively shut down for the rest of that weekend. All three major airport runways were buried and Pittsburgh International Airport closed (stranding some unlucky travelers) . The Pennsylvania Turnpike and interstates around the city were also closed – this was one of the few times in history that the Governor shut down major highways due to snow . Snow removal crews worked around the clock, but even the best plow truck drivers couldn’t keep up with the continuous heavy dump. Many residential streets went unplowed for days, and it was common to see people skiing or sledding down hilly streets normally filled with cars (yes, a few adventurous souls in Squirrel Hill and Mount Washington literally cross-country skied to the grocery store).
Downtown looked ghostly – a famous news clip from KDKA showed empty streets and knee-deep snow outside Gateway Center, with only the fluttering of a distant Irish flag visible through the blizzard. The National Guard was called in to help rescue motorists stranded on highways. In some neighborhoods, volunteer fire departments used snowmobiles to deliver medicine to people stuck at home. Despite the intensity, the city reported relatively few injuries or fatalities, thanks in part to people heeding warnings to stay off the roads. (The biggest collective injury was probably sore backs from all the shoveling!)
Anecdote: The St. Patrick’s Day Parade that year is the stuff of legend. Folks still joke about how Pittsburghers are so tough (or maybe stubborn) that we tried to have a parade in a blizzard. One story has it that a marching band from a local high school started their parade route, only to find no spectators except a few shivering die-hards – visibility was near zero in the snow – and by the end, band members were more or less marching in place because the streets hadn’t been plowed and their instruments were filling with snow. The parade was officially canceled partway, but by then downtown was deserted anyway.
Another gem: a local radio station, in classic Yinz humor, crowned the “St. Patrick’s Day Snowman” as the parade’s grand marshal that year, since snow had taken over. Some parade-goers who had come early built a snowman on Grant Street wearing a green hat and sash!
Legacy: The Blizzard of ’93 remains a high-water (or high-snow) mark for Pittsburgh weather. It reinforced how even in late winter, when everyone’s almost ready for spring, nature can surprise us. The storm led to improvements in the city’s snow emergency plans. After 1993, Pittsburgh invested in better coordination for closing roads and communicating with the public (those early 90s NOAA weather radios started flying off shelves after this storm). The ’93 blizzard is often referenced alongside the 1950 blizzard; in fact, “Storm of the Century” is how most Pittsburghers refer to it. It holds a cherished (if chilly) place in our collective memory – we wear it almost like a badge of honor that we got through it. And any time heavy snow is forecast now, someone will quip, “Well, as long as it’s not another ’93 situation…” – that’s how historic it was. It turned our green St. Patrick’s Day into a frosty white wonderland , and the tales from that day only grow taller (like snow piles) with time.
7. The Pittsburgh Tornado (June 2, 1998) –
Twister on Mt. Washington
Yes, you read that right – a tornado in the city of Pittsburgh. It’s not common, but on June 2, 1998, an F1 tornado paid an unwelcome visit to our town, carving a path through several neighborhoods and forever dispelling the myth that “tornadoes can’t hit a city with hills and rivers.” This was part of a larger severe weather outbreak that evening. The most notable twister touched down near Carnegie (just west of the city) and barreled right into the City of Pittsburgh, crossing Mount Washington, dipping across the Monongahela, and continuing into the eastern suburbs . Imagine the skyline we all know – now imagine a funnel cloud swirling in front of it. That actually happened: a TV tower camera captured a wall cloud and forming tornado with the Downtown skyline and Three Rivers Stadium in the background, a surreal sight broadcast on the evening news .
Impact: The tornado was rated F1 (winds ~110 mph) as it cut through the Mount Washington neighborhood and beyond . It traveled an astonishing 32 miles across Allegheny and Westmoreland counties . In the city, the hardest hit areas were Mt. Washington and Hazelwood, where many homes suffered roof and siding damage . Over 50 people were injured – thankfully most injuries were minor cuts and bruises . Miraculously, there were no direct fatalities in the city from the tornado. Pittsburghers often say that’s because it struck around 6:00 PM when many folks were at home watching the news and heard the warnings (indeed, meteorologists broke into TV programming and likely saved lives). The storm mangled hundreds of trees – images of Mt. Washington afterward showed beloved century-old trees uprooted and thrown about like twigs . Some brick walls and chimneys collapsed, and a few small businesses saw their storefronts blown out.
In Mt. Washington, nearly every street saw some damage. Longtime residents talk about the “freight train sound” (common tornado description) roaring up Wyoming Street. The twister hop-scotched down the hill toward the Monongahela River, causing chaos in Hazelwood and then continuing into the suburbs. By the time it lifted, it had damaged almost 1,000 buildings in Allegheny County (Pittsburgh and some suburbs) . The total damage in Pittsburgh was estimated around $14 million – not counting additional damage in other counties. Neighborhoods looked war-torn: one could see straight through houses where roofs had been torn off.
Anecdotes: This tornado provided perhaps the most Pittsburgh-centric tornado story ever: There’s a local legend that some people on Mt. Washington first thought it was a low-flying airplane or a weird downburst – until they saw debris swirling and realized, “N’at ain’t no monsoon, that’s a tornado!” One resident recounted how they took shelter in their basement with a Steelers helmet on for good measure (gotta protect the noggin and show team spirit). Another oft-repeated story: after the storm, neighbors emerged and one man quipped, “At least the view is better now,” referencing the many downed trees on Mt. Washington that had partially blocked the famous overlook!
Local media also highlighted the quirky fact that the tornado crossed all three of Pittsburgh’s rivers in its path (the swirl went over or near the Ohio, then across the Monongahela, then eventually over the Allegheny out in Westmoreland County). Mother Nature’s version of the Three Rivers Regatta, perhaps.
One more remarkable thing – KDKA radio host Larry Richert (also a weatherman then) was live on air and described seeing the telltale “hook echo” on radar as it approached the city, followed by the station’s own tower camera capturing the rotating wall cloud over the Point . He and others gave an urgent warning on TV/radio that likely prevented a tragedy. Many Pittsburghers still recall that eerie live footage of the city about to be hit.
Legacy: The 1998 tornado taught Pittsburgh a lesson: we’re not immune to twisters. It prompted better tornado siren coverage in the city and more public education on what to do if a warning is issued (head to the basement, even if you think it “can’t happen here”). Because it struck Mount Washington – a touristy area known for its panoramic city view – that tornado is seared into the city’s collective memory. If you visit Mt. Washington today, you’ll see younger trees replacing those lost in ’98 and perhaps notice some houses with newer roofs or siding – subtle lasting marks of that day. We got lucky that it wasn’t stronger, but it was strong enough to make history. Pittsburgh hasn’t had a tornado of that scale in the city since (knock on wood), but whenever the sky turns that odd greenish color on a humid summer evening, some of us flash back to June ’98 and keep a watchful eye.
8. Hurricane Ivan Flooding (September 17–18, 2004) –
The Two-Day Soaker
The remnants of Hurricane Ivan arrived in Pittsburgh in September 2004 and reminded us that tropical weather can pack a punch long after the winds die down. Ivan had ravaged the Gulf Coast, and by the time its leftovers slogged up to Western PA, it was basically a rainmaking machine. Over two days, Sept 17–18, 2004, Ivan’s tropical moisture dumped record-breaking rain on the region – 5.95 inches in Pittsburgh to be exact , which at the time was the highest two-day rainfall from a tropical system in local history. What made it worse? It came on the heels of remnants of Hurricane Frances just two weeks prior, which had already soaked the ground with ~3.8 inches . The soil was saturated and the rivers were elevated, so Ivan’s rains led to flash flooding in creeks and a major flood on the rivers.
Impact: By the morning of Sept 18, the Ohio River at the Point crested at about 31 feet – not as high as 1972 or 1936, but still disastrous. The Point State Park was completely inundated (water actually reached the highway overpass at the Point ), and the Mon Wharf “bathtub” was, well, a bathtub . Down along the Monongahela, the Parkway East was submerged in the section aptly nicknamed “The Bathtub” – photos show it looking like a Venice canal . Perhaps most dramatically, the flooding wasn’t confined to the usual spots. Small tributaries that had never overflowed in living memory suddenly raged. For example, Chartiers Creek in Carnegie overflowed so badly that Carnegie’s entire downtown flooded for the first time ever – water reached 4+ feet deep in some streets, devastating homes and shops there. Millvale saw Girty’s Run creek rise to 21 feet (3 feet above its previous record), tragically causing severe flood damage in that town . Flash floods also hit places like Etna and Sharpsburg along Pine Creek.
Throughout Allegheny County, emergency crews performed over 100 water rescues for people trapped in cars or homes by fast-rising water. Six deaths were attributed to Ivan’s flooding in Pennsylvania , including a few in the Pittsburgh region (some in vehicles caught in flash floods). Power was knocked out to thousands. The rivers stayed above flood stage for a day or two, meaning the downtown wharves and low areas stayed submerged.
One particularly striking image from Ivan’s aftermath: a bunch of runaway boats – pleasure craft and even some barges – broke loose upstream and floated down to the Point, ending up beached in odd places. There’s a photo of a boat oddly resting against a fountain in Point State Park after the waters receded . In another instance, a floating restaurant barge (the famed Duke’s Rivers Club on the Mon) tore from its moorings and wedged against a bridge.
All told, the state estimated the flood caused over $264 million in damage in the Pittsburgh region . It was called the worst flooding here since Agnes ’72. Many homes in low-lying boroughs were severely damaged or destroyed. After the water drained, giant piles of debris – tree limbs, trash, even pieces of docks – lined the riverfronts.
Anecdotes: The 2004 flood had some memorable local news moments. Who can forget then-Pittsburgh Mayor Tom Murphy, waist-deep in water at the Point during a press conference, gesturing at the swirling debris and saying, “This is what happens when Mother Nature hits the flush handle”? (It was an attempt at humor to lighten the grim situation, often quoted in years after.) Another story involves the Pittsburgh Pirates – they were out of town during the flood, but PNC Park’s field got so waterlogged that the outfield warning track was under water. Groundskeepers joked that for once the Pirates had “water hazards” like a golf course.
Perhaps the biggest “oh wow” realization in Pittsburgh was that even with the flood control dams, we got a nasty flood. The Army Corps later noted that without the reservoirs, the crest would’ve been about 7.7 feet higher downtown – which would have rivaled 1936. So again, those dams saved us from worse, but Ivan tested everything. After Ivan, a task force reviewed stormwater infrastructure and creek management around the county, leading to some improvements (like new retention basins on troublesome creeks).
Legacy: Hurricane Ivan’s flood remains a recent memory for many Pittsburghers (it’s hard to believe it’s over 20 years ago now). It underscored the need for modernizing our stormwater systems and led to creation of programs to better monitor and clean local creeks. Neighborhoods like Millvale and Carnegie rebounded with resilience – today you’ll see high-water marks in those towns commemorating 2004 and murals that reference the community spirit in rebuilding. Ivan also prompted the city to participate more actively in FEMA’s flood insurance program, as many realized standard insurance didn’t cover their flood losses. Culturally, ask any Pittsburgher over a certain age about 2004 and they’ll recall either bailing water out of a basement or being stuck in traffic because “the Boulevard of the Allies was a waterfall” (yes, that happened). In summary, Ivan reminded the Steel City that even without coastal hurricanes, the rains can make our rivers rise with a vengeance – but also proved Pittsburgh’s grit in literally weathering the storm.
9. “Snowmageddon” Winter Storm (Feb 5–6, 2010) –
Buried in the ’Burgh
By the 21st century, you’d think Pittsburgh had seen it all – but February 2010 gave us a winter walloping for the ages. Dubbed “Snowmageddon”, the blizzard of Feb 5–6, 2010 was record-setting and unforgettable. It started on a Friday and didn’t let up until Saturday, dumping 21.1 inches of snow on Pittsburgh . That made it the fourth-largest snowstorm in our recorded history (behind 1993, 1890, and 1950). The snow came down so fast that by midnight Friday, a foot was already on the ground . When it was all over, cars were entombed, and the city was paralyzed under nearly two feet of heavy, wet snow.
Impact: If the 1993 storm was bad, 2010 might have been worse in some ways because the snow was very wet (which means heavy) and caused widespread power outages. Trees and power lines snapped under the weight of the snow and ice. At its peak, over 180,000 households lost electricity in the region as heavy snow brought down lines (some folks in surrounding counties had no power for a week). Plow trucks ran nonstop for days , but it felt like for every street they cleared, another drift blew in. Many side streets in Pittsburgh’s hilly neighborhoods became impassable for days. Pittsburgh’s then-mayor even called in the National Guard to help clear snow and assist with emergency transportation for those in need.
The image of Snowmageddon that sticks in many minds is that of Port Authority buses stranded and jackknifed on snow-clogged roads. One notable sight was a bus stuck on Forbes Avenue in Squirrel Hill, buried to its headlights in snow (a screenshot of a bus half-buried was shown repeatedly on KDKA) . Another was the Fort Pitt Boulevard “snow canyon” – essentially walls of plowed snow that made downtown streets look like tunnels.
The entire city basically took a snow holiday. Schools were closed for a week. Universities cancelled classes (University of Pittsburgh students famously turned the Cathedral of Learning lawn into a giant snowball fight zone). The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette couldn’t print its Sunday edition for only the second time in history (the first being 1936 flood) because workers and delivery trucks couldn’t get in. Neighbors, as they do here, helped neighbors – many a Pittsburgher spent that weekend shoveling not just their own sidewalk but also the elderly neighbor’s and the neighbor beyond that. Hardware stores sold out of snow shovels and ice melt in hours.
Anecdotes: The term “Snowmageddon” itself tells you the sense of humor people had about it. It started on social media and stuck. Some also called it “Snowpocalypse.” Whichever name you prefer, it entered our lexicon. During the storm, a group of creative locals in Lawrenceville even built an igloo bar – they hollowed out a huge snow pile, put up Christmas lights inside, and served hot cocoa to neighbors. Another quirky tale: the Pittsburgh Penguins hockey team had a scheduled home game on Feb 6. Needless to say, it was postponed – but a few die-hard fans actually walked miles to the arena before it got called off, so determined to see Crosby and Malkin play that they underestimated the storm. They ended up on local news, laughing about their misadventure over free hot chocolate provided by arena staff.
One more for the memory books: People started using whatever to claim their dug-out parking spots – a true Pittsburgh tradition. Chairs, tables, even a Steelers-themed toilet (yes, someone put a painted black-and-gold commode in a street spot to ward off spot thieves). “Parking chair season” arrived early thanks to Snowmageddon, giving rise to countless jokes in the following weeks.
Legacy: February 2010 ended up being Pittsburgh’s snowiest month on record – nearly 48.7 inches fell that month, almost four feet . Snowmageddon was the crown jewel of that onslaught. It tested the limits of our snow removal capabilities and led to an after-action review by city officials. Subsequent investments were made in new plows and better contracting for snow removal on smaller streets. The storm also somewhat bonded the community – shared hardship often does. Many who lived through it still talk about the camaraderie of digging out together or the rare quiet beauty of a city muffled by snow.
In Pittsburgh’s weather hall of fame, Snowmageddon 2010 sits comfortably, perhaps as the standout storm of the 21st century so far. It proved that even in the modern era, nature can shut down a city – but also that the “City of Champions” has champion snow-fighting spirit. The next time flakes start falling heavily, you’ll hear someone say, “Is this gonna be another Snowmageddon?” – half in anxiety, half in civic pride. After all, we did conquer the last one, eventually, with shovels, grit, and a sense of humor.
10. The April 2025 Derecho (April 29, 2025) –
A Wall of Wind
Our final storm on this historic list is also the most recent – so recent that many of us are likely still cleaning up the fallen tree limbs from our yards. On April 29, 2025, a ferocious line of thunderstorms blasted through the Pittsburgh region, packing straight-line winds so intense that it’s been compared to a “once-in-a-generation” windstorm. Many called it a derecho (a term for a long-lived, violent thunderstorm complex with destructive winds), and while meteorologists later clarified it just barely missed the technical criteria for a derecho, the distinction hardly matters to those who lived through it. It felt like a tropical storm or tornado rolled through, minus the funnel. In a matter of hours on that Tuesday evening, the storm left an imprint on the Steel City that won’t soon be forgotten.
Impact: The April 2025 windstorm hammered the entire metro area. Wind gusts over 75–80 mph were recorded – equivalent to a Category 1 hurricane in spots. The result: massive power outages and damage. Over 325,000 customers lost power during the storm’s peak, making it one of the largest outages in our region’s history . Sturdy oak and maple trees that had stood for a century were snapped or uprooted across neighborhoods from Moon to Monroeville. Roofs were peeled off a few buildings, and countless homes had damage from falling trees. In suburban Ross Township, a man tragically died when a tree fell on him in his yard . In the city’s South Side Slopes, another man was electrocuted by a live downed wire – a grim reminder of how dangerous storm aftermaths can be . In total, three people in the Western PA area lost their lives due to falling trees or wires, with a fourth fatality in central PA from the same line of storms .
The entire city of Pittsburgh and Allegheny County declared a state of emergency . Driving that night was impossible – not only due to torrential rain and zero visibility, but also because streets were quickly blocked by debris. On Forbes Avenue in Oakland, large limbs littered the road like an obstacle course minutes after the gust front hit. Duquesne Light Company officials said it was among the top three worst weather events in 40 years for the utility . Power restoration was a monumental task; even with crews pouring in from other states, it took nearly a week in some areas to get everyone’s lights back on . For several evenings, much of Pittsburgh went dark – the glow of candles and phone flashlights in windows became a common sight, and the hum of portable generators could be heard on many blocks. It was an eerie throwback to pre-electric times in some neighborhoods.
Anecdotes: The 2025 storm, being so fresh, has generated countless stories that will undoubtedly become part of Pittsburgh lore. There’s the tale of the historic Primanti Bros sign in the Strip District that was blown off and found a block away (don’t worry, it’s being restored!). Or the case of the inclines: both the Duquesne and Monongahela Inclines halted service and had minor damage – something that hasn’t happened in decades due to wind. Social media was flooded with Pittsburgh humor, of course. One viral post showed a toppled Kennywood Park sign with the caption, “Even Kennywood’s not open.” Another person joked that the Terrible Towel finally met its match in the terrible wind.
One uncanny phenomenon reported by many: a loud, long “freight train” noise as the wind gust front roared through – normally something people associate with tornadoes. In Squirrel Hill, residents said the wind sounded like “a giant vacuum cleaner over the house.” And then, the silence after the storm passed was equally jarring, broken only by the sound of sirens.
In the days that followed, Pittsburgh’s community spirit shone. Neighbors pooled labor and chainsaws to clear each other’s yards. Volunteers showed up to assist at places like the Pittsburgh Zoo, which closed for a bit to handle downed trees (the animals weathered the storm safely, thankfully). Local restaurants without power cooked perishable food on grills and offered it to the community rather than let it spoil – impromptu block cookouts happened in a few spots.
Legacy: It’s early yet, but the April 2025 windstorm/derecho is already being spoken of in the same breath as 2004’s floods and 1993’s blizzard in terms of impact. It highlighted some vulnerabilities – for example, discussions have ramped up about strengthening our electrical grid and maybe even burying more power lines in critical areas to prevent such widespread outages in the future. The storm is also likely to influence how we manage the city’s urban canopy; those old trees that fell saved many a home from summer heat, and replanting efforts will be important, perhaps with more wind-resistant species.
Psychologically, this storm reminded Pittsburgh that severe straight-line winds can be just as bad as a tornado. Many who experienced it say it was the most intense wind they’ve ever felt here. It was certainly a bonding experience – in the aftermath, people swapped their “where were you when the lights went out?” stories. (One friend of mine was at PNC Park for a Pirates game that got suspended – the rush of wind sent hot dog wrappers spiraling like mini-tornadoes across the field, and the stadium went dark. Fans ended up sheltering on the concourse, making friends with strangers by smartphone light.)
As time passes, the April 2025 storm will no doubt join the pantheon of infamous Pittsburgh weather events. For now, it stands as a testament to both nature’s fury and our city’s resilience. Just as with every storm on this list, Pittsburgh picked itself up afterward, helped each other out, and carried on – perhaps a bit more warily eyeing the sky the next time the forecast calls for severe thunderstorms.
From epic floods that redefined our rivers’ courses to blizzards that shut down our streets, and from rare tornadoes to ferocious windstorms, these 10 events showcase the full range of Pittsburgh’s weather extremes. Each storm left its mark not just in broken records or damage tallies, but in the stories Pittsburghers tell – stories of neighborliness, of perseverance, and sometimes of hard lessons leading to better preparedness. They’ve become part of the city’s collective memory and identity. After all, not every town can say it survived a 46-foot flood, a 160-year storm, and a Snowmageddon!
Next time you find yourself complaining about a little rain on your commute or a few inches of snow to shovel, just think back to these historic storms. Pittsburgh has faced far worse and come through stronger (and with plenty of colorful tales to tell). As the saying goes in the Steel City, if yinz can handle this weather, yinz can handle anything. Stay safe, stay warm (or dry), and here’s hoping the next “storm of the century” holds off for at least another century – knock on wood.
