There was terrible destruction to life and property throughout the
entire Juniata Valley by the unprecedented flood. Between Tyrone and
Lewistown the greatest devastation was seen and especially below
Huntingdon at the confluence of the Raystown branch and the Juniata
River. During the preceding days of the week the rain-filled clouds
swept around the southeast, and on Friday evening met an opposing strata
of storm clouds, which resulted in an indescribable down-pour of rain of
twelve hours' duration.
The surging, angry waters swept down the river, every rivulet and
tributary adding its raging flood to the stream, until there was a sea
of water between the parallel hills of the valley. Night only added to
the terror and confusion. In Huntingdon City, and especially in the
southern and eastern suburbs, the inhabitants were forced to flee for
their lives at midnight on Thursday, and by daybreak the chimneys of
their houses were visible above the rushing waters. Opposite the city
the people of Smithfield found safety within the walls of the State
Reformatory, and for two days they were detained under great privations.
Some conception of the volume of water in the river may be had from the
fact that it was thirty-five feet above low-water mark, being eight feet
higher than the great flood of 1847. Many of the inhabitants in the low
sections of Huntingdon, who hesitated about leaving their homes, were
rescued, before the waters submerged their houses, with great
difficulty.
Huntingdon, around which the most destruction is to be seen of any of
the towns in the Juniata Valley, was practically cut off from all
communication with the outside world, as all the river bridges crossing
the stream at that point were washed away. There was but one bridge
standing in the county, and that was the Huntingdon and Broad Top
Railroad bridge, which stood isolated in the river, the trestle on the
other end being destroyed. Not a county bridge was left, and this loss
alone approximated $200,000.
The gas works were wrecked on Thursday night and the town was left in
darkness.
Just below where the Juniata and Raystown branch meet, lived John Dean
and wife, aged seventy-seven each, and both blind. With them resided
John Swaner and wife. Near by lived John Rupert, wife and three small
children. When the seething current struck these houses they were
carried a half mile down the course of the stream and lodged on the ends
amid stream.
The Ruperts were soon driven to the attic, and finally, when it became
evident that they must perish, the frantic mother caught up two bureau
drawers, and placed her little children in them upon the angry waves,
hoping that they might be saved; but all in vain.
The loss of life by the flood in Clinton County, in which Lock Haven is
situated, was heavy. Twenty of those lost were in the Nittany Valley,
and seven in Wayne Township. Lock Haven was very fortunate, as the
inhabitants there dwelling in the midst of logs on the rivers are
accustomed to overflows. There were many sagacious inhabitants who,
remembering the flood of 1865, on Saturday began to prepare by removing
their furniture and other possessions to higher ground for safety. It
was this full and realizing sense of the danger that gave Lock Haven
such immunity from loss of life.
The only case of drowning in Lock Haven was of James Guilford, a young
man who, though warned not to do so, attempted to wade across the main
street, where six feet of the overflowed river was running, and was
carried off by the swift current. The other dead include William Confur
and his wife and three children, all carried off and drowned in their
little home as it floated away, and the two children of Jacob Kashne.
Robert Armstrong and his sister perished at Clintondale under peculiarly
dreadful circumstances. At Mackeyville, John Harley, Andrew R. Stine,
wife and two daughters, were drowned, while the two boys were saved. At
Salona, Alexander M. Uting and wife, Mrs. Henry Snyder were drowned. At
Cedar Springs, Mrs. Luther S. Eyler and three children were drowned. The
husband was found alive in a tree, while his wife was dead in a
drift-pile a few rods away. At Rote, Mrs. Charles Cole and her two
children were drowned, while he was saved. Mrs. Charles Barner and her
children were also drowned, while the husband and father was saved. This
is a queer coincidence found all through this section, that the men are
survivors, while the wives and children are victims.
The scenes that have been witnessed in Tyrone City during the time from
Friday evening, May 31st, to Monday evening, June 3d, are almost
indescribable. On Friday afternoon, May 31st, telephone messages from
Clearfield gave warning of a terrible flood at that place, and
preparations were commenced by everybody for high water, although no
one anticipated that it would equal in height that of 1885, which had
always in the past served as high-water mark in Lock Haven.
All of that Friday rain descended heavily, and when at eight o'clock in
the evening the water commenced rising, the rain was falling in
torrents. The river rose rapidly, and before midnight was over the top
of the bank. Its rapid rising was the signal for hasty preparations for
higher water than ever before witnessed in the city. As the water
continued rising, both the river and Bald Eagle Creek, the vast scope of
land from mountain to mountain was soon a sea of foaming water.
The boom gave away about two o'clock Saturday morning, and millions of
feet of logs were taken away. Along Water Street, logs, trees, and every
conceivable kind of driftwood went rushing by the houses at a fearful
rate of swiftness. The night was one to fill the stoutest heart with
dread, and the dawn of day on Saturday morning was anxiously awaited by
thousands of people.
In the meantime men in boats were busy during the night taking people
from their houses in the lower portions of the city, and conveying them
to places of imagined security.
When day dawned on June 1st, the water was still rising at a rapid rate.
The city was then completely inundated, or at least all that portion
lying east of the high lands in the Third and Fourth Wards. It was
nearly three o'clock Saturday afternoon before the water reached the
highest mark. It then was about three feet above the high-water mark of
1885.
At four o'clock Saturday evening the flood began to subside, slowly at
first, and it was nearly night on Sunday before the river was again
within its banks. Six persons are reported missing at Salona, and the
dead bodies of Mrs. Alexander Whiting and Mrs. William Emenheisen were
recovered at Mill Hall and that of a six-year old child near by. The
loss there is terrible, and the community is in mourning over the loss
of life.
G. W. Dunkle and wife had a miraculous escape from drowning early
Saturday A. M. They were both carried away on the top of their house
from Salona to Mill Hall, where they were both rescued in a remarkable
manner. A window in the house of John Stearn was kicked out, and Mr. and
Mrs. Dunkle taken in the aperture, both thus being rescued from a watery
grave.
Near by a baby was saved, tied in a cradle. It was a pretty,
light-haired light cherub, and seemed all unconscious of the peril
through which it passed on its way down the stream. The town of Mill
Hall was completely gutted by the flood, entailing heavy loss upon the
inhabitants.
The town of Renovo was completely wrecked. Two spans of the river bridge
and the opera-house were swept away. Houses and business places were
carried off or damaged and there was some loss of life. At Hamburg seven
persons were drowned by the flood, which carried away almost everything
in its path.
Bellefonte escaped the flood's ravages, and lies high and dry. Some
parts of Centre County were not so fortunate, however, especially in
Coburn and Miles Townships, where great destruction is reported. Several
persons were drowned at Coburn, Mrs. Roust and three children among the
number. The bodies of the mother and one child were recovered.
James Corss, a well-known resident of Lock Haven, and Miss Emma Pollock,
a daughter of ex-Governor Pollock of Philadelphia, were married at the
fashionable Church of the Holy Trinity, Philadelphia, at noon of
Wednesday, June 5th. The cards were sent out three weeks before, but
when it was learned that the freshet had cut off Lock Haven from
communication with the rest of the world, and several telegrams to the
groom had failed to bring any response, it was purposed to postpone the
wedding. The question of postponement was being considered on Tuesday
evening, when a dispatch was brought in saying that the groom was on his
way overland. Nothing further was heard from him, and the bride was
dressed and the bridal party waiting when the groom dashed up to the
door in a carriage at almost noon.
After an interchange of joyful greetings all around, the bride and groom
set out at once for the church, determined that they should not be late.
On the way to the church the bride fainted. As the church came into view
she fainted again, and she was driven leisurely around Rittenhouse
Square to give her a chance to recover. She got better promptly. The
groom stepped out of the carriage and went into the church by the vestry
way. The carriage then drove round to the main entrance, and the bride
alighted with her father and her maids, and, taking her proper place in
the procession, marched bravely up the aisle, while the organ rang out
the well-remembered notes of Mendelssohn's march. The groom met her at
the chancel, the minister came out, and they were married. A reception
followed.
The bride and groom left on their wedding-journey in the evening. Before
they went the groom told of his journey from Lock Haven. He said that
the little lumber town had been shut out from the rest of the world on
Friday night. He is a widower, and, accompanied by his grown daughter,
he started on his journey on Monday at two o'clock. They drove to
Bellefonte, a distance of twenty-five miles, and rested there on Monday
night. They drove to Leedsville on Tuesday morning. There, by hiring
relays of horses and engaging men to carry their baggage and row them
across streams, they succeeded in reaching Lewistown, a distance of
sixty-five miles, by Tuesday night. At Lewistown they found a direct
train for Philadelphia, and arrived there on Wednesday forenoon.