Washed Away: How the Great Flood of 1913, America's Most Widespread Natural Disaster, Terrorized a Nation and Changed It Forever by Geoff Williams Page B
Authors: Geoff Williams
Tags: United States, Fiction, General, History, State & Local, Modern, Nature, 19th century, Natural Disasters, Midwest (IA; IL; IN; KS; MI; MN; MO; ND; NE; OH; SD; WI)
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the vicinity remained in their homes.
Charles and Viola Adams awakened, not from the Platt Iron Works, although they were within range of the factory, and not from a guy with a megaphone. What made them sit up in their beds were the loud voices of neighbors outside their bedroom window; they were rapping on doors of the houses on their street.
Charles and Viola, hoping their eleven-month-old twins wouldnât wake up, dressed and went downstairs. They had an idea of what thecommotion was about. The night before, around nine in the evening, they had left their son and daughter with Violaâs sister, Estelle, who had been visiting for Easter weekend, and they took a stroll with their umbrellas to look at the Great Miami River. The water was several feet below the levees, but it was obvious that it was rising. Still, they didnât think it would actually overtop the levee. Just a week earlier, the Great Miami River through Dayton had been 2.7 feet deep, and the levees were designed to hold the river at 25 feet. The highest the water had ever been was 21.8 feet.
At the worst, figured Charles, if the river overflowed the levee, it couldnât possibly go farther than the end of their street, Rung Street, based on what had happened during the last serious flood in 1898.
Still, the concerned couple decided that Charles could check out the Miami again and see what they were dealing with. He put on his overcoat, grabbed his umbrella, and headed out the door, leaving 33 Rung Street to walk several blocks to the river. The rain was unforgiving, and the sky still dark, but Charles didnât feel alone. The streets were full of people coming and going, doing the exact same thing.
Charles surveyed the river. It was as bad as everyone feared. In fact, the river, which was perilously close to coming over the 25-foot levee, would rise to 29 feet. Charles didnât know that, of course, but he was frightened.
Adams hurried back to his house.
Zanesville, Ohio, 4:55 A . M .
The electric power plant stopped working, and the bleary-eyed residents, many of them awake and watching the water outside their homes, were now in the darkness and facing an unseen enemy. Judging from the screams that could be heard throughout the city, some residents were either already in trouble or very, very edgy.
Columbus, Ohio, 5 A . M .
The police stations were now being overwhelmed with telephone calls, requesting help from people whose homes were flooded. Some police stations began calling the fire department, hoping for a little backup.
Dayton, Ohio, 5:30 A . M .
Daytonâs city engineer, Gaylord Cummin, reported that the water was at the top of the levees. It was, he calculated, flowing at 100,000 feet per second. He predicted that the water would be overflowing the levees and appearing in the streets within half an hour.
In the northern part of Dayton, the levees began overflowing right about the time Charles Adams returned to his house. He didnât have to convince Viola that they needed to prepare for a flood. Charlesâs father, who lived nearby, had already come over to help his sonâs family. Charlesâs father was named John, and so we donât have images of forefathers in a flood, John Adams shall henceforth be referred to as Grandpa Adams.
Everyone went to work, prepping the house for the flood and developing a plan to leave before it came.
March 25, Dawn, Peru, Indiana
Mayor John Kreutzer, hearing that the Wabash River was rising about a foot an hour and hammering south Peru, asked for bleary-eyed volunteers to brave the rain and help citizens near the river move their belongings or leave for safer ground.
His request for help was heeded. Rescuers were out in force, as they were in communities throughout the Midwest. Sam Bundy had been out in his boat for several hours now, and Glenn Kessler, the man visiting his cousin in Peru who had heard the circus animals all night at the courthouse, was soon another.
Charles and Viola Adams awakened, not from the Platt Iron Works, although they were within range of the factory, and not from a guy with a megaphone. What made them sit up in their beds were the loud voices of neighbors outside their bedroom window; they were rapping on doors of the houses on their street.
Charles and Viola, hoping their eleven-month-old twins wouldnât wake up, dressed and went downstairs. They had an idea of what thecommotion was about. The night before, around nine in the evening, they had left their son and daughter with Violaâs sister, Estelle, who had been visiting for Easter weekend, and they took a stroll with their umbrellas to look at the Great Miami River. The water was several feet below the levees, but it was obvious that it was rising. Still, they didnât think it would actually overtop the levee. Just a week earlier, the Great Miami River through Dayton had been 2.7 feet deep, and the levees were designed to hold the river at 25 feet. The highest the water had ever been was 21.8 feet.
At the worst, figured Charles, if the river overflowed the levee, it couldnât possibly go farther than the end of their street, Rung Street, based on what had happened during the last serious flood in 1898.
Still, the concerned couple decided that Charles could check out the Miami again and see what they were dealing with. He put on his overcoat, grabbed his umbrella, and headed out the door, leaving 33 Rung Street to walk several blocks to the river. The rain was unforgiving, and the sky still dark, but Charles didnât feel alone. The streets were full of people coming and going, doing the exact same thing.
Charles surveyed the river. It was as bad as everyone feared. In fact, the river, which was perilously close to coming over the 25-foot levee, would rise to 29 feet. Charles didnât know that, of course, but he was frightened.
Adams hurried back to his house.
Zanesville, Ohio, 4:55 A . M .
The electric power plant stopped working, and the bleary-eyed residents, many of them awake and watching the water outside their homes, were now in the darkness and facing an unseen enemy. Judging from the screams that could be heard throughout the city, some residents were either already in trouble or very, very edgy.
Columbus, Ohio, 5 A . M .
The police stations were now being overwhelmed with telephone calls, requesting help from people whose homes were flooded. Some police stations began calling the fire department, hoping for a little backup.
Dayton, Ohio, 5:30 A . M .
Daytonâs city engineer, Gaylord Cummin, reported that the water was at the top of the levees. It was, he calculated, flowing at 100,000 feet per second. He predicted that the water would be overflowing the levees and appearing in the streets within half an hour.
In the northern part of Dayton, the levees began overflowing right about the time Charles Adams returned to his house. He didnât have to convince Viola that they needed to prepare for a flood. Charlesâs father, who lived nearby, had already come over to help his sonâs family. Charlesâs father was named John, and so we donât have images of forefathers in a flood, John Adams shall henceforth be referred to as Grandpa Adams.
Everyone went to work, prepping the house for the flood and developing a plan to leave before it came.
March 25, Dawn, Peru, Indiana
Mayor John Kreutzer, hearing that the Wabash River was rising about a foot an hour and hammering south Peru, asked for bleary-eyed volunteers to brave the rain and help citizens near the river move their belongings or leave for safer ground.
His request for help was heeded. Rescuers were out in force, as they were in communities throughout the Midwest. Sam Bundy had been out in his boat for several hours now, and Glenn Kessler, the man visiting his cousin in Peru who had heard the circus animals all night at the courthouse, was soon another.
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