The Hurricane of 1987: Brighton and Hove’s experience

Something one must accept when deciding to live by the coast is the inevitability of that familiar coastal wind. That is not to say that accepting it as a part of seaside living necessarily means the British people of Brighton and Hove must also refrain from complaining about it as it knocks them side to side as they walk along the seafront promenade. Despite its occasional intensity and the fact it is often more agitating than refreshing, the fervent breeziness of Brighton is really just another facet of its energetic charm, and one that allows for another easy topic of typically English conversation at the shop counter or barbershop: ‘gosh, isn’t it windy out there?’

 But there was a time when a storm, unlike anything seen in the U.K. for over three centuries, rolled in from the Atlantic, across the Channel, and up onto the beaches, streets and parks of Brighton and Hove before blowing onwards and upwards to continue its devastating path right through the centre of the United Kingdom. The Great Storm of 1987 it’s been termed (but it’s often referred to as the hurricane of 1987). An unprecedented meteorological event that cost around £1.8 billion in insurance damages and felled over 15 million trees across the U.K.

The Argus: Photo of Pavilion Bus Stop by Dave Jones

What’s worse is just how unprepared for it the country was. Most of the blame for this absence of planning was attributed to weather reporter Michael Fish from Eastbourne who, the day that preceded the storm, told the nation “earlier on today, apparently, a woman rang the BBC and said she heard there was a hurricane on the way. Well, if you’re watching, don’t worry, there isn’t!” As it turns out, as he later admitted in a 2012 BBC interview, this woman never actually existed and he fabricated the quote himself, likely as a more lively way to broach the topic of the storm, and to get ahead of rumours that a hurricane was on the way. 

 These words however would prove to haunt him. He was, until this broadcast on the 15th of October 1987, a renowned news presenter and weather reader, mostly through more traditional methods (which after this event became gradually more often replaced with specialised computerised systems). Since this enormous blunder, he has never quite lived it down, since stating that if he had a penny for every time someone made a reference to that broadcast, he would be a millionaire. He will likely always have to deal with the fact his name has become a recurring British joke every time something goes slightly wrong on the news: a ‘Michael Fish Moment”. 

What ensued, after the country was told not to worry about a bit more than a few strong gusts, was an immense storm (not technically a hurricane as it didn’t originate in the tropics), originating in a depression in the Bay of Biscay, and coursing over the English Channel, parts of France and across the U.K in an unforgiving sweep that killed 22 people in total, 18 of which deaths occurred in the U.K, 4 of which in Sussex. In Sussex, two died beneath falling chimneys, one was struck by a winch flying at extreme speed, and another was knocked down while trying to hold onto his garage door. The highest winds in the U.K were recorded in Shoreham-on-Sea at a record-breaking 115mph. A storm of this intensity no wonder left its mark: emergency services were so overwhelmed with calls they had to request help from the army; the National Grid suffered extreme damage meaning thousands of homes lost power; such a jaw-dropping amount of trees were felled that in some areas it took years to clear the damage caused; and of course some even lost their lives. 

Brighton, being a coastal town, received as much of the brunt as the rest of the U.K. The trees at The Level were all flattened, leaving St Peter’s church in full view from the other end of the green, as were most of the trees at Hove Park. The Pavilion, possibly one of the most iconic of Brighton’s attractions, had one of its minarets break off and go crashing through the roof where it became wedged in the floor. One man who lived in Park Crescent Terrace, Mark Oakley, told the Argus about how during the storm he was in his attic bedroom when the chimney ended up on the end of his bed. 

 The West Pier was another monument that wound up severely battered. Though already derelict, the storm further destroyed the old structure and access to it from the shore was removed in 1991 for safety reasons. Oddly, however, Brighton Palace Pier, the one we know and use today, was spared from all significant damage; there is no shocking tale of it being ravaged or of parts falling into the sea unlike its unfortunate predecessor. 

 I think it’s worth pausing for a moment to be grateful the i360 had not been erected yet; and then another to look forward in time, to imagine this sort of event occurring again, and understanding the significance of accurate weather predictions. Should a storm of this scale be predicted in advance, I’m sure the floating platform would be safely lowered into its base for a day or two. 

As someone who wasn’t alive at the time I can only imagine the scale of devastation, and the fear - and potentially, I can’t help but imagine, the excitement - felt as windows rattled, lights went out, and the howling gusts were heard across the country. It is a strange blip in our history: one that half of us will remember well, having been kept up all night hearing the destruction (and dealing with the damage afterwards), and one that the other half of us were not even alive to see.

Considering its impact, some of which we still see today in the enormous felled trees left as reminders in parks and woodland, and the fright it gave the country, I do sometimes wonder why it’s not mentioned more often, even if only as a tale of unusually extreme English weather to shock or entertain those not around to have witnessed it. But then again, unusual acts of the weather always seem to be quickly forgotten: might we do the same with the Heatwave Summer of ‘26, the hottest British summer on record? Will winter roll around and have us forgetting the way the land dried up, how many people died prematurely from the intense heat? Is this habit of transient interest in bizarre weather the reason we have ended up here at all: in a burning hot Britain?

 One thing can be said for certain, and that is that I highly doubt any meteorologist or news reporter will ever again be willing to risk underestimating the power of the weather, or that any Brit from a generation alive during the Storm of 1987 won’t take just a little extra precaution when they hear rumours of a strong wind heading our way.