Even a Year After Sandy, Ocean City Waits for Storm to Pass

Everything changed for Ocean City near dawn on the morning of Oct. 29, 2012, when Hurricane Sandy took a sharp left turn.

Terry Camoratto and her young family had waited until the last minute to heed a mandatory evacuation order the day before. She left her home on the 5000 block of Haven Avenue with her husband, two children and golden retriever to visit her sister in Mount Laurel. It was almost Halloween, and they carved pumpkins, watched movies and "had a great time." They had no idea then that Sandy would be only the beginning of the storm.

Sam Lavner and his wife decided to ignore the order. Evacuating for the punchless Hurricane Irene in August 2011 had proven to be a "monumental waste of time and effort," Lavner said. They knew in advance that if Sandy were Category 1 or below they would ride out the storm in their home on 10th Street, a few houses from the bay. They soon would regret the decision.

Chris Breunig had been named Ocean City's new fire chief three months earlier. The test of a lifetime would come early in his career.

In the recorded history of modern weather, hundreds of hurricanes and tropical storms have approached Ocean City. The jet stream pushes most on a gentle arc out to sea. North Carolina and South Carolina intercept and weaken many other storms that follow a straight track toward New Jersey. But on Oct. 29, something different happened.

A high-pressure system blocked Sandy's seaward path. With nowhere to go, it turned to the northwest on a direct and uninterrupted path toward Ocean City (the storm's eye ultimately making landfall in Brigantine, about 15 miles to the north). The late October temperatures helped change the tropical storm into a frontal low-pressure system and strengthen it in the process. Hurricane Sandy became Superstorm Sandy.

And Ocean City stared down the throat of a monster with a diameter of more than 800 miles and hurricane force winds spinning 175 miles from the center of the system. A buoy 240 miles west of Bermuda recorded 37-foot waves. Sandy would reach the New Jersey coastline at the precise moment of an astronomically high tide.

The experiences of Camoratto, Lavner and Breunig then and now reflect the lasting impact of storm. Sandy's floods receded quickly. But many are still paying — financially and emotionally — as they try to rebuild homes and businesses destroyed by her visit.

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By the time the sun rose on Monday, Oct. 29, 2012, tidal water covered most streets on the island. The worst of the storm was expected to come when it made landfall about the same time as high tide that night — 8:46 p.m. at the Ninth Street Bridge. But the 8:27 a.m. high tide that morning sent a pretty clear signal that this would be a storm like none before it.

The rising tide stopped a Fox News van tantalizingly close to its escape on the Ninth Street Bridge. Water at the nearby intersection of Ninth Street and Bay Avenue was thigh-deep.

On downtown Asbury Avenue, floodwaters already poured into stores. Dumpsters floated down the street. Waves overtopped dunes on the downtown beaches and battered the Ocean City Boardwalk. And on low-lying Simpson and Haven avenues, residents walked through chest-deep water, carrying what belongings they could as they sought refuge on higher ground.

Between high tides, the water never receded. As bands of wind and rain arrived, Bay Avenue became a river of debris. At first, lawn ornaments, potted plants and garden hoses drifted down the street. And when bookcases and furniture and other household items joined the parade, Sandy's destructive power became clear.

Almost as quickly as water began rising into living rooms, the calls began pouring into the Ocean City Fire Department. Using two old storm trucks capable of driving through a few feet of water, Breunig directed the evacuation of more than 100 residents off the island and to what had been intended to be a temporary shelter at Ocean City High School.

The entire Fire Department staff was on the island working the storm, but Breunig had to shut down the 29th Street Station by 9 a.m. and the 46th Street Station by noon as floodwaters buried both locations.

The wind increased throughout the afternoon, and at some point, Lavner found himself trying to hold down the roof hatch on the third floor of his 120-year-old home, hoping the whole structure would not float off its foundation.

"I had that feeling that this was a horrible decision, and there was nothing I could do about it," Lavner said.

Lavner was in the house with his wife, Maryanne, five cats, dog and bird.

"The house was shaking like hell and making noises we've never heard before," he said.

On the south end of the island, a neighbor was updating Camoratto by phone about the rising floodwaters. A few blocks away, the waves had flattened protective dunes and were rolling through the streets from beach to bay.

Even three hours before the second high tide of that Monday, the water level had exceeded that of the first high tide. And the wind and rain were still growing stronger. But at that point, Ocean City caught a break. The island was near enough to the epicenter of the storm, that the eye passed almost directly overhead. The wind died, and the night turned deadly quiet while the second high tide passed. To the north, shore communities were getting battered by the combined fury of the wind and tides.

When the eye passed, the wind and chaos returned about 10 p.m.

Breunig's work was only beginning. At 56th Street and Central Avenue, driving trucks atop a two-foot layer of sand, firefighters responded to a broken high-pressure gas main, with water still crashing in from the ocean. At 5 the next morning, firefighters would wade through two feet of water to fight a structure fire in Merion Park.

A maze of downed wires and flooded streets were only some of the obstacles as Fire Department assisted in the massive job of making the island safe for the return of residents.

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Camoratto returned to Ocean City with her husband, Darren Keir, and two children, Sofia Keir, 10, and Cameron Keir, 8.

They found water damage throughout the house, mud, soaked carpets, wood flooring with strange bubbles "like some sort of ride in an amusement park."

Even clothes hanging in closets above the water level were covered in mold within days, 

Siblings and friends came in droves to help the family pack up their belongings and gut their first-floor unit, cutting drywall and bringing in fans and humidifiers.

The family was able to move into the upstairs unit, while they decided what to do with the property.

But despite a national flood insurance program and more than $50 billion in federal disaster aid to the region, homeowners are still struggling to find money to rebuild and they're handcuffed by red tape in the process.

Because estimated repairs to their home exceeded 50 percent of its assessed value, the family is required to elevate their home.

The National Flood Insurance Program provides a $30,000 "Increased Cost of Compliance" (ICC) payment for homeowners to elevate above flood levels. But Camoratto said that by the time they considered all the costs associated with elevating their property — plans, permits, the raising of the home, disconnecting and reconnecting utilities, rebuilding decks and steps — the costs would be closer to $200,000, a figure almost as much as they paid for the house.

The family estimated it would cost about $100,000 to repair the home without elevating it — but then they would be subject to dramatically increased flood-insurance premiums and would be prohibited from doing so by the "50 percent" standard.

In the end, they decided to tear down their old home and start from scratch. But even that solution has been anything but simple.

They demolished their home in April, moved into a neighbor's house and drew up plans to meet the very strict height requirements of the "V Zone" that included their block on the FEMA Advisory Base Flood Elevation maps.

But when their home was moved to a less restrictive AE Zone on the newer flood maps, the family had to start over with new permits and paying for new plans. They asked the city if they could go forward with the plan that met the "V Zone" standards, but the city said they had to stand by the rules, Camoratto said.

Their home would be too high to meet the most recent flood-prevention requirements. The shifting rules were just the latest frustration for Camoratto and Keir.

The insurance company would not pay for asbestos removal, but they would not pay for the demolition of the home without having asbestos removed. Even though insurance companies recommend emergency mitigation, they would not pay for the service because it was not an emergency.

Their experience in applying for insurance reimbursements and grants has been filled with an unending array of such contractions and absurdities.

If all goes well, they'll be in their new home by June 2014. But relief won't come close to covering their costs. Before the storm, they had just four years left on their mortgage.

"In the end, it doesn't cover so much," Camoratto said.

***

Like Camoratto and Keir, the Lavners have performed a post-Sandy calculus, weighing costly options against each other.

They decided to raise and repair their historic home.

Selling it would make no sense, Lavner said. At more than four feet below the recommended base flood elevation and with a gutted first floor, any buyer would pay no more than land value.

Fixed up and elevated, it would return to full value, perhaps be more attractive by meeting flood requirements. But the Lavner will pay dearly to elevate the home.

He's certain of only two payouts: $90,000 from flood insurance for $156,000 of documented damage and the $30,000 ICC reimbursement. He paid $25,000 out of pocket just for mold remediation and utility system repairs to get back in the house.

And like so many other families in Ocean City, he's discovering that the costs of elevating are great and chances of recovering those costs slim. 

"Everything's hung up with some kind of uncertainty," Lavner said. "Nothing's simple."

But Lavner said he considers himself fortunate to be able to stay in his house, when so many others are not.

"Whatever the cost of elevating is the cost of living here," Lavner said. "We're not supposed to be living on barrier islands. If you elect to live here and buy here, you take a risk."