Dick Goddard's Weather Guide for Northeast Ohio

Excerpts from

The Art of Forecasting

How difficult is the job of forecasting the weather? Even a genius like Galileo, the 17th-century Italian astronomer, mathematician, and physicist, failed when it came to predicting the weather. “I can foretell the way of celestial bodies,” said Galileo, “but I know nothing about the movement of a drop of water.”

In 1845 the highly respected French physicist Dominique François Arago warned, “Never, no matter what the progress of science, will honest scientific men who have a regard for their professional reputation venture to predict the weather.”

The careers of British Admiral Robert FitzRoy and Professor Mark Harrington lend tragic support to Arago's admonition. In 1831 FitzRoy was a young officer in command of the HMS Beagle—and deeply interested in meteorology. His ship carried the equally young—and often seasick—naturalist Charles Darwin on the historic journey that eventually led to Darwin's epic treatise, On the Origin of Species. FitzRoy's superiors began to take note of his weather knowledge, and years later, on the recommendation of the Royal Society, he was named the first chief of the British Meteorological Office.

FitzRoy had the daunting—no, make that impossible—task of producing weather forecasts for the British navy with little more than a barometer and observations of the wind. Though he made a truly admirable effort, unforeseen storms regularly took their toll on the British navy and merchant marine. Criticism of FitzRoy's forecasting ability steadily mounted over the years—some accused him of sorcery—and he was badgered and bedeviled by members of the snooty Royal Society. Parliament and the London Times joined in the attack. With his reputation savaged, the public humiliation became too much, and before breakfast on April 20, 1865, Admiral FitzRoy took his own life by slitting his throat.

Professor Mark Harrington was appointed the first chief of the United States Weather Bureau in 1891, following the changeover from military to civilian control. Praised by many of his colleagues for his hard work and innovations, Harrington lasted as chief for just four years. Harassed by members of Congress, whose constituents blamed Harrington for failed forecasts, he was forced to resign in 1895. Harrington spent the last 18 years of his life in a mental institution.

Thirty-nine-year-old Willis Moore immediately succeeded Harrington in 1895 and managed to dodge political harpoons for 18 years. The tenacious Moore greatly expanded weather service to the general public and garnered headlines by declaring that good weather forecasters “are born, not made.” Moore decided which meteorologists would be kept or fired based solely on their forecast accuracy. He admitted that under these stressful working conditions the national weather service had sent more men to the insane asylum than any other branch of government. Moore became infamous (to the delight of his critics) when his forecast of “clear” for President William Howard Taft's inaugural in 1909 came up a blizzard. Accused of mismanagement and fiscal irresponsibility, Moore was drummed out of office by President Woodrow Wilson in 1913.

Through a Crystal Ball Darkly

To some folks Noah was the recipient of the first—and best—weather forecast. Ever since he built that gopher-wood ark and sailed away in the deluge, we have been trying to duplicate such expert forecasting ability.

The science of meteorology, particularly the business of forecasting, will forever vex mankind. Within this last century a number of atmospheric scientists were optimistic that the development of the supercomputer would be the silver bullet needed to produce reliable short- and long-range forecasts (we should always remember that optimism is the wonderful feeling of success we have before we really understand the problem). But chaos reigns in our atmosphere, and the day of the guaranteed weather forecast will very likely never dawn. Weather prognosticators will always be dealing in percentages, or estimates of probability. We will always be looking through a crystal ball, darkly.

The difficulty in predicting the weather is the fact that there is just so much of it. Our atmosphere is unbelievably complex and is in constant motion, both vertically and horizontally. One route to precise weather forecasting would be weather control, but therein lies a meteorological Catch-22. Seeding clouds to augment rain, for example, has achieved only modest success, and it is economically prohibitive. The threat of a lawsuit would be only a rainstorm away. Our inability to control weather is no doubt fortunate: if any nation should gain such expertise, the weapon of flooding or making a rival country arid would be as fearful as any nuclear bomb.

In lieu of weather control, the best hope for success in long-range forecasting would seem to lie with the supercomputer and its ability to match current weather conditions to previous weather patterns (analogous forecasting). The difficulty here is that the predecessor of the National Weather Service was not established until 1870 (as a component of the War Department's Signal Corps), and complete weather records date only from the last few decades.

It's a meteorological truth that the further ahead the prediction, the less accurate it will likely be. In Northeast Ohio, where there is nonstop weather traffic, the 24-hour accuracy ranges between 80 and 90 percent, with the higher figure more common between late spring and mid-autumn. Two-day reliability runs between 70 and 80 percent, with the same seasonal variation. After the third day, unless there is an unusually persistent and dominant weather pattern, forecast accuracy falls another 5 to 10 percent. After four days weather predictions approach the 50-50 probability of outright guessing.

Surveys taken by television stations say that the public demands a five-day forecast. To many dedicated meteorologists, the five-day forecast is about as popular as a raspberry seed in a wisdom tooth. Such a forecast is predicated on the success of the previous day's estimate and because of this is subject to continual revision. (Like laws and sausages, you don't really want to know how five-day forecasts are made.)

Public acceptance of those who try to probe and predict the weather has been just as painfully slow as success in the art of forecasting. As recently as 1916 a congressman proposed that the United States Weather Bureau (now the National Weather Service) be abolished on the grounds that “a man using a sourwood stick can be more accurate.” The National Weather Service has been a favorite, and easy, target for newspaper editorial writers. In the late 1800s, a daily journal used the forecasts of a 90-year-old former scout for the legendary Kit Carson alongside the official Weather Bureau forecast. The scout's left leg had been severely injured some 60 years earlier and, claimed the old Indian fighter, was better than a real barometer. The leg was beating the government forecasts so badly that the Weather Bureau requested the newspaper stop the competition.

The location of the forecaster, of course, has a great deal to do with accuracy. Meteorologists in San Diego, or Yuma, Arizona, for example, with their cookie-cutter forecasts, can claim the highest accuracy rate in the United States. It's difficult to miss a forecast in places where the weather seldom changes. If you're a sensitive person with a thin epidermis, don't try forecasting in Northeast Ohio. (There have been a number of weatherpeople who have left the area because this weather didn't agree with them.) The essence of our weather is change, and what's here today is usually gone tomorrow (or tonight!). After several less-than-accurate forecasts I sometimes feel about as important to FOX 8 News as plot is to Baywatch.

Weather forecasting will always be as much art as science—with that large dollop of intuition thrown in. You're only as good as your last forecast, and there's the chance that we'll awaken to “six inches of partly cloudy” any morning. Forecasters can console themselves by remembering that Babe Ruth struck out 1,330 times, but even when we are able to string together a modest series of successful predictions, we know that a failed forecast is right around the corner.

Mother Nature bats last.

Weather Averages

Weather averages are like the average man . . . you'll probably never meet him. Abnormal weather is normal, and in Northeast Ohio it's frequently more abnormal—even extreme—than normal.

Weather norms are valuable, however, because they reveal definite climatological trends through the year. The official records are calculated by the National Weather Service for the most recent 30 years.

Sunrise and sunset tables are created by the Naval Observatory in Washington, D.C., and are based on the precise time that the rim of the sun is within one degree of the horizon. It is interesting to note that because of the bending of light rays (refraction) we actually see the sun before it is “up” and after it is “down.” You will find that each year the times of sunrise and sunset will change slightly, one minute either way, on several days each year.

The water temperature of Lake Erie is taken from a submerged intake off Cleveland harbor at a depth of 35 feet.