Rains came, and the reservoirs began to fill again. There was even a freak snowstorm in mid-April; ''Howell's snow,'' it was called. Water restrictions were eventually lifted, and in February 1951, with the reservoirs at more than 99 percent of capacity, Dr. Howell's contract ended.

In the Catskills, the rains had made farmers and resort owners furious. Charging that crops had been harmed and vacationers scared off, they filed suit against the city and its rainmaker. ''I know some people up there that would shoot Dr. Howell on sight,'' one farm official was quoted as saying.

The question of just how much credit for the rains should go to Dr. Howell and how much to nature was always an open one. The city had been pleased with the rainmaking efforts, but with the filing of the lawsuits (which were eventually thrown out), officials were forced to take a more skeptical attitude.

Dr. Howell had always been modest in his claims. After refusing to take credit for months, he finally acknowledged in August 1950 that ''I have made rain.'' But he hedged by saying his work probably had produced ''very little rain that would not have fallen anyway.'' Later, he estimated that he had increased rainfall that year by 14 percent.

He had his defenders, however. One letter writer to The New York Times noted that the total rainfall during July 1950 was only about six inches, far less than in some other years when no one had complained.

''In those years was the resort business ruined?'' the writer asked. ''No. Were all crops destroyed by too much rain? No. One could not sue nature. But one can sue Dr. Howell.''

Dr. Howell is survived by his wife of 58 years, Christine G. Howell; two daughters, Jane, of San Diego, and Holly, of Del Mar, Calif.; three sons, Stephen, of Del Mar, Jeremy, of North Bend, Ore., and James, of Idaho Springs, Colo., and 13 grandchildren.