This personal account is written by Tara McQuaid-Dixon, who was 15 years old at the time, now 3rd generation co-owner of Sea Cure Moving.
Hurricane Hugo Impact:
On September 22, 1989, Hurricane Hugo made landfall near Charleston, South Carolina as a Category 4 hurricane, bringing sustained winds of approximately 140 mph and storm surge reaching up to 20 feet in some coastal areas. It was one of the most powerful hurricanes to strike the U.S. East Coast in the twentieth century.
While major cities received immediate attention, small coastal and rural communities bore some of the most severe and lasting damage. One such town was McClellanville, South Carolina—a fishing village with striking similarities to South Jersey waterfront communities like Tuckerton. Homes were destroyed, infrastructure was wiped out, and access to basic necessities was severely limited.
Many of the haunting images later seen in the film Forrest Gump—including scenes of coastal devastation and storm aftermath—were drawn from the real destruction caused by Hurricane Hugo along the South Carolina coast. Those images reflected the reality on the ground for communities like McClellanville in the weeks following the storm.
At least 49 lives were lost, millions were left without power, and damages exceeded $10 billion (1989 dollars). For rural coastal towns, recovery was slower, aid was harder to access, and the need for direct delivery of supplies was critical.
Sea Cure Responds With Relief Convoy: A Community Mobilized
Recognizing both the scale of devastation and the gaps in relief reaching rural areas, Sea Cure Moving felt compelled to act—not as observers, but as northern neighbors who saw themselves in that community and thought maybe they could send a couple of trucks of supplies to help out. The response of our local community resulted in a 2 mile long convoy of supplies, equipment and volunteers recognized nationwide.
Timeline of the Relief Effort
September 22, 1989 – Hurricane Hugo Makes Landfall
Hurricane Hugo devastated coastal South Carolina with extreme winds and storm surge, leaving small fishing communities like McClellanville severely damaged and isolated. With FEMA not being as broad in the 1980's as it is today, it was common for Americans to organize relief efforts from community to community through local churches. Sea Cure Moving, only eight years in business, chose to help McClellanville, SC after seeing images of its devastation in the news. Almost a twin town to Tuckerton at the time, both were rural fishing communities with a small tight knit community.
Community Response
At first, my Grandfather Ronald V. McQuaid put out a lettered sign (it was 1989) out front on Rt 9. We did not anticipate the overwhelming coordination and response of the Ocean County Community. One of the first community leaders to answer the call to action was Reverend Ed Carl of The United Methodist Church of Tuckerton. Radio spots by Bob Levy on WOBM scaled the level of response which quickly grew much larger. Businesses, churches, civic groups, and individuals across Ocean County, New Jersey rallied to collect water, food, medical supplies, and essential goods for the affected communities. Our Rt 9 property was stacked with donations and my Grandparents spent much of their day directing church and community volunteers donating and looking to help. The majority of Sea Cure's daily operations and resources pivoted to manage the response. Behind the scenes it became stressful for my family - because the business was doing less paid work but were paying Sea Cure labor and using more capacity and drivers to help with the efforts.
Convoy Assembly
A massive convoy - stretching approximately two miles long—was assembled with volunteer drivers and crews along Rt. 9 in Tuckerton. It included tractor trailers loaded with donated supplies of water, food, medical supplies and essential goods. Emergency vehicles such as a donated firetruck from the Tuckerton Fire Company were in the line up. Local bus driver Harry Anderson secured a bus for volunteers willing to make the trip to help on site. Three of those volunteers were friends of mine, April Taylor, Jennifer Schmidt and Brian Wood who skipped school along with me to make the trip. I suppose our parents figured the real world experience was more valuable. I climbed in a tractor with a volunteer driver and his wife who I never met before. It was exciting as the town cheered on our departure, proud of their efforts. Coordination with each state allowed the convoy to bypass weigh stations, and much of the fuel and food for volunteers was donated. Some states provided police escorts, and I had my first listen to Meatloaf Bat Out of Hell (on tape) as we made our way down I-95.
Mission-Focused Delivery
In a motel room the morning we were approaching South Carolina, state representatives instructed my Dad, Ronald J. McQuaid, who was Sea Cure Moving's VP at the time, to divert all donations to the capital in Columbia instead of McClellanville over two and a half hours away from its intended community. The call ended with him hanging up on the Governor and hoping not to be arrested. Despite political pressure to divert the donated goods and monetary assets, Sea Cure remained committed to our original promise: delivering aid directly to the rural community of McClellanville, where relief was urgently needed. We could not tell those people we were not coming after we had promised help. As we drove deeper into the devastated area, we stopped to remove some debris and fallen limbs still uncleared. As word spread that the convoy was rolling into town, locals lined the roadways to clap and wave full of emotion and gratitude. I recall a disheveled Mom and her two young boys looking like she was crying, waving at us, a mild indicator of the desperation and trauma we were about to encounter.
On-the-Ground Relief
Volunteers worked inside an active disaster zone alongside the local community, Red Cross, National Guard, and Army Reserves, supporting recovery efforts in conditions that were still dangerous and unstable. The nearest running water was over 60 miles out. We helped unload supplies from trucks into stationary trailers guarded and makeshift pantries on makeshift shelves in local Churches.
We toured the common areas and helped remove debris from structures still deemed safe. The residences were scattered and many uninhabitable. We assembled and handed out hot dogs and drinks during break times. A volunteer Patti Smyth had a leech attach to her leg due to the level of mud we were walking through and we all learned to tuck our pant legs into our socks. We were warned to be on the lookout for alligators that were carried inland along with countless fishing boats due to the storm surge. We we also warned to make sure we were either completely out of the disaster area before nightfall or within their perimeter camp due to armed looters either desperate or taking advantage of the chaotic circumstances. I remember my Mom insisted we find a room for us to rest and stay safe- in addition to having four 15 year olds in the crew, my 11 year old brother was also with us. When we finally reached a motel about 90 minutes away, we were greeted by a few cockroaches scattering as we came into the room. My mom stripped the blankets that touch the floor from the bed, and we slept as best we could with the lights on.
The Stories of the Storm
As we toured the community we went into the local high school. In the auditorium/gymnasium we could see the water level mark where the storm waters had risen well above 8 foot inside leaving the evacuated residents who gathered there for safety in peril, floating in the dark for hours on end waiting for the water to recede. Found on the stage was a long folding table and found on top of the table was a wheelchair, where the trapped storm victims were fighting to keep a young handicap person from drowning. We heard of a baby being put up in the vents hoping the water would not reach there. Clothing, toys and debris were scattered about, all intended to be the essentials to ride out the storm. The residents shared how terrifying it was inside the school, in the water in the dark, people and kids crying wondering if they will make it through the ordeal.
As I was helping in a small church pantry - with a wooden planked floor that was slightly raked - men were cutting wood outside to create more shelves as we filled them up. I noticed a young girl sitting in the room, very quiet and disconnected, just glazed over, while the adults and outside volunteers kept busy. I didn't understand at the time the poor girl was probably in shock.
A Lasting Legacy
The Hurricane Hugo relief convoy became a defining moment in Sea Cure’s history—bonding our family business and community together - and establishing a commitment to serve communities often overlooked.
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