Produced by Charlene Taylor, Greg Bergquist and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
Transcriber's Note
The punctuation and spelling from the original text have been faithfully
preserved. Only obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
DEDICATION.
TO THE
SURVIVING SUFFERERS
OF THE
APPALLING CALAMITY AT JOHNSTOWN
AND
NEIGHBORING VILLAGES
THIS WORK
WHICH RELATES THE THRILLING STORY
OF THE GREAT DISASTER
IS DEDICATED.
THE
JOHNSTOWN HORROR!!!
OR
VALLEY OF DEATH,
BEING
A COMPLETE AND THRILLING ACCOUNT OF THE AWFUL
FLOODS AND THEIR APPALLING RUIN,
CONTAINING
Graphic Descriptions of the Terrible Rush of Waters; the
great Destruction of Houses, Factories, Churches, Towns,
and Thousands of Human Lives; Heartrending Scenes
of Agony, Separation of Loved Ones, Panic-stricken
Multitudes and their Frantic
Efforts to Escape a Horrible Fate.
COMPRISING
THRILLING TALES OF HEROIC DEEDS; NARROW ESCAPES
FROM THE JAWS OF DEATH; FRIGHTFUL HAVOC BY
FIRE; DREADFUL SUFFERINGS OF SURVIVORS;
PLUNDERING BODIES OF VICTIMS, ETC.
TOGETHER WITH
Magnificent Exhibitions of Popular Sympathy; Quick
Aid from every City and State; Millions of Dollars
Sent for the Relief of the Stricken Sufferers.
By JAMES HERBERT WALKER,
THE WELL KNOWN AUTHOR.
FULLY ILLUSTRATED WITH SCENES OF THE GREAT CALAMITY.
H.J. SMITH & CO.,
249 South Sixth St., Philadelphia
CHICAGO, ILL.:
NOS. 341-351 DEARBORN ST.
KANSAS CITY, MO.:
NO. 614 EAST SIXTH ST.
OAKLAND, CAL.
NO. 1605 TELEGRAPH AVE.
COPYRIGHTED, 1889.
PREFACE
The whole country has been profoundly startled at the Terrible Calamity
which has swept thousands of human beings to instant death at Johnstown
and neighboring villages. The news came with the suddenness of a
lightning bolt falling from the sky. A romantic valley, filled with busy
factories, flourishing places of business, multitudes of happy homes and
families, has been suddenly transformed into a scene of awful
desolation. Frightful ravages of Flood and Fire have produced in one
short hour a destruction which surpasses the records of all modern
disasters. No calamity in recent times has so appalled the civilized
world. What was a peaceful, prosperous valley a little time ago is
to-day a huge sepulchre, filled with the shattered ruins of houses,
factories, banks, churches, and the ghastly corpses of the dead.
This book contains a thrilling description of this awful catastrophe,
which has shocked both hemispheres. It depicts with graphic power the
terrible scenes of the great disaster, and relates the fearful story
with masterly effect.
The work treats of the great storm which devastated the country,
deluging large sections, sweeping away bridges, swelling rivulets to
rivers, prostrating forests, and producing incalculable damage to life
and property; of the sudden rise in the Conemaugh River and tributary
streams, weakening the dam thrown across the fated valley, and
endangering the lives of 50,000 people; of the heroic efforts of a
little band of men to stay the flood and avert the direful calamity; of
the swift ride down the valley to warn the inhabitants of their
impending fate, and save them from instant death; of the breaking away
of the imprisoned waters after all efforts had failed to hold them back;
of the rush and roar of the mighty torrent, plunging down the valley
with sounds like advancing thunder, reverberating like the booming of
cannon among the hills; of the frightful havoc attending the mad flood
descending with incredible velocity, and a force which nothing could
resist; of the rapid rise of the waters, flooding buildings, driving the
terrified inhabitants to the upper stories and roofs in the desperate
effort to escape their doom; of hundreds of houses crashing down the
surging river, carrying men, women and children beyond the hope of
rescue; of a night of horrors, multitudes dying amid the awful terrors
of flood and fire, plunged under the wild torrent, buried in mire, or
consumed in devouring flames; of helpless creatures rending the air with
pitiful screams crying aloud in their agony, imploring help with
outstretched hands, and finally sinking with no one to save them.
Whole families were lost and obliterated, perishing together in a watery
tomb, or ground to atoms by floating timbers and wreck; households were
suddenly bereft--some of fathers, others of mothers, others of children,
neighbors and friends; frantic efforts were made to rescue the victims
of the flood, render aid to those who were struggling against death, and
mitigate the terrors of the horrible disaster. There were noble acts of
heroism, strong men and frail women and children putting their own lives
in peril to save those of their loved ones.
The terrible scene at Johnstown bridge, where thousands were consumed
was the greatest funeral pyre known in the history of the world. It was
ghastly work--that of recovering the bodies of the dead; dragging them
from the mire in which they were imbedded, from the ruins in which they
were crushed, or from the burning wreck which was consuming them.
Hundreds of bodies were mutilated and disfigured beyond the possibility
of identifying them, all traces of individual form and features utterly
destroyed. There were multitudes of corpses awaiting coffins for their
burial, putrefying under the sun, and filling the air with the sickening
stench of death. There were ghouls who robbed the bodies of the victims,
stripping off their jewels--even cutting off fingers to obtain rings,
and plundering pockets of their money.
Summary vengeance was inflicted upon prowling thieves; some of whom were
driven into the merciless waters to perish, while others were shot or
hanged by the neck until they were dead. The burial of hundreds of the
known and unknown, without minister or obsequies, without friend or
mourner, without surviving relatives to take a last look or shed a tear,
was one of the appalling spectacles. There was the breathless suspense
and anxiety of those who feared the worst, who waited in vain for news
of the safety of their friends, and at last were compelled to believe
that their loved ones had perished.
The terrible shock attending the horrible accounts of the great
calamity, was followed by the sudden outburst and exhibition of
universal grief and sympathy. Despatches from the President, Governors
of States, and Mayors of Cities, announced that speedy aid would be
furnished. The magnificent charity that came to the rescue with millions
of dollars, immense contributions of food and clothing, personal
services and heroic efforts, is one impressive part of this graphic
story. Rich and poor alike gave freely, many persons dividing their last
dollar to aid those who had lost their all.
These thrilling scenes are depicted, and these wonderful facts are
related, in THE JOHNSTOWN HORROR, by eye-witnesses who saw the fatal
flood and its direful effects. No book so intensely exciting has ever
been issued. The graphic story has an awful fascination, and will be
read throughout the land.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER I.
The Appalling News, 17
CHAPTER II.
Death and Desolation, 50
CHAPTER III.
The Horrors Increase, 74
CHAPTER IV.
Multiplication of Terrors, 104
CHAPTER V.
The Awful Work of Death, 116
CHAPTER VI.
Shadows of Despair, 129
CHAPTER VII.
Burial of the Victims, 146
CHAPTER VIII.
Johnstown and its Industries, 154
CHAPTER IX.
A View of the Wreck, 164
CHAPTER X.
Thrilling Experiences, 182
CHAPTER XI.
New Tales of Horror, 208
CHAPTER XII.
Pathetic Scenes, 246
CHAPTER XIII.
Digging for the Dead, 270
CHAPTER XIV.
Hairbreadth Escapes, 288
CHAPTER XV.
Terrible Pictures of Woe, 334
CHAPTER XVI.
Stories of the Flood, 380
CHAPTER XVII.
One Week after the Great Disaster, 432
CHAPTER XVIII.
A Walk Through the Valley of Death, 455
CHAPTER XIX.
A Day of Work and Worship, 479
CHAPTER XX.
Millions of Money for Johnstown, 489
[Illustration: RECOVERING THE BODIES OF VICTIMS.]
[Illustration: THE BREAK IN THE SOUTH FORKS DAM.]
[Illustration: IN THE PACK-SADDLE, ON THE CONEMAUGH, PENNSYLVANIA
RAILROAD.]
[Illustration: RUINS IN MAIN STREET, JOHNSTOWN.]
[Illustration: A GRAVEL-TRAIN RUNS AWAY FROM THE ADVANCING FLOOD.]
[Illustration: IMMENSE GAP IN THE BROKEN DAM, AS SEEN FROM THE INSIDE.]
[Illustration: FRIGHTFUL STRUGGLES FOR LIFE.]
[Illustration: THE FLOOD STRIKES THE CAMBRIA IRON WORKS.]
[Illustration: HOUSES AND HUMAN BEINGS LOST IN THE FLOOD.]
[Illustration: TEARING DOWN HOUSES IN JOHNSTOWN.]
[Illustration: SOLDIERS GUARDING A HUNGARIAN THIEF.]
[Illustration: DISTRIBUTING RELIEF AT THE PENNSYLVANIA RAILROAD
STATION.]
[Illustration: IDENTIFYING THE DEAD.]
[Illustration: RELIEF CORPS CROSSING THE ROPE BRIDGE.]
[Illustration: SEARCHING FOR LOST RELATIVES.]
[Illustration: MAIN STREET, JOHNSTOWN, IN FRONT OF MERCHANT'S HOTEL.]
THE JOHNSTOWN HORROR
or
Valley of Death.
CHAPTER I.
The Appalling News.
On the advent of Summer, June 1st, the country was horror-stricken by
the announcement that a terrible calamity had overtaken the inhabitants
of Johnstown, and the neighboring villages. Instantly the whole land was
stirred by the startling news of this great disaster. Its appalling
magnitude, its dreadful suddenness, its scenes of terror and agony, the
fate of thousands swept to instant death by a flood as frightful as that
of the cataract of Niagara, awakened the profoundest horror. No calamity
in the history of modern times has so appalled the civilized world.
The following graphic pen-picture will give the reader an accurate idea
of the picturesque scene of the disaster:
Away up in the misty crags of the Alleghanies some tiny rills trickle
and gurgle from a cleft in the mossy rocks. The drippling waters, timid
perhaps in the bleak and lonely fastness of the heights, hug and coddle
one another until they flash into a limpid pool. A score of rivulets
from all the mountain side babble hither over rocky beds to join their
companions. Thence in rippling current they purl and tinkle down the
gentle slopes, through bosky nooks sweet with the odors of fir tree and
pine, over meads dappled with the scarlet snap-dragon and purple heath
buds, now pausing for a moment to idle with a wood encircled lake, now
tumbling in opalescent cascade over a mossy lurch, and then on again in
cheerful, hurried course down the Appalachian valley.
None stays their way. Here and there perhaps some thrifty Pennsylvania
Dutchman coaxes the saucy stream to turn his mill-wheel and every league
or so it fumes and frets a bit against some rustic bridge. From these
trifling tourneys though, it emerges only the more eager and impetuous
in its path toward the towns below.
The Fatal River.
Coming nearer, step by step, to the busy haunts of men, the dashing
brook takes on a more ambitious air. Little by little it edges its
narrow banks aside, drinks in the waters of tributaries, swells with the
copious rainfall of the lower valley. From its ladder in the Alleghanies
it catches a glimpse of the steeples of Johnstown, red with the glow of
the setting sun. Again it spurts and spreads as if conscious of its new
importance, and the once tiny rill expands into the dignity of a river,
a veritable river, with a name of its own. Big with this sounding symbol
of prowess it rushes on as if to sweep by the teeming town in a flood of
majesty. To its vast surprise the way is barred. The hand of man has
dared to check the will of one that up to now has known no curb save
those the forest gods imposed. For an instant the waters, taken aback by
this strange audacity, hold themselves in leash. Then, like erl-king in
the German legends, they broaden out to engulf their opponent. In vain
they surge with crescent surface against the barrier of stone. By day,
by night, they beat and breast in angry impotence against the ponderous
wall of masonry that man has reared, for pleasure and profit, to stem
the mountain stream.
The Awful Rush of Waters.
Suddenly, maddened by the stubborn hindrance, the river grows black and
turgid. It rumbles and threatens as if confident of an access of
strength that laughs at resistance. From far up the hillside comes a
sound, at first soft and soothing as the fountains of Lindaraxa, then
rolling onward it takes the voluminous quaver of a distant waterfall.
Louder and louder, deeper and deeper, nearer and nearer comes an awful
crashing and roaring, till its echoes rebound from the crags of the
Alleghanies like peals of thunder and boom of cannon.
On, on, down the steep valley trumpets the torrent into the river at
Jamestown. Joined to the waters from the cloud kissed summits of its
source, the exultant Conemaugh, with a deafening din, dashes its way
through the barricade of stone and starts like a demon on its path of
destruction.
Into its maw it sucks a town. A town with all its hundreds of men and
women and children, with its marts of business, its homes, its factories
and houses of worship. Then, insatiate still, with a blast like the
chaos of worlds dissolved, it rushes out to new desolation, until Nature
herself, awe stricken at the sight of such ineffable woe, blinds her
eyes to the uncanny scene of death, and drops the pall of night upon the
earth.
Destruction Descended as a Bolt of Jove.
A fair town in a western valley of Pennsylvania, happy in the arts of
peace and prospering by its busy manufactures, suddenly swept out of
existence by a gigantic flood and thousands of lives extinguished as by
one fell stroke--such has been the fate of Johnstown.
Never before in this country has there happened a disaster of such
appalling proportions. It is necessary to refer to those which have
occurred in the valleys of the great European rivers, where there is a
densely crowded population, to find a parallel.
The Horrors Unestimated.
At first the horror was not all known. It could only be imperfectly
surmised. Until a late hour on the following night there was no
communication with the hapless city. All that was positively known of
its fate was seen from afar. It was said that out of all the
habitations, which had sheltered about twelve thousand people before
this awful doom had befallen, only two were visible above the water. All
the rest, if this be true, had been swallowed up or else shattered into
pieces and hurled downward into the flood-vexed valley below.
What has become of those twelve thousand inhabitants? Who can tell until
after the waters have wholly subsided?
Of course it is possible that many of them escaped. Much hope is to be
built upon the natural exaggeration of first reports from the sorely
distressed surrounding region and the lack of actual knowledge, in the
absence of direct communication. But what suspense must there be between
now and the moment when direct communication shall be opened!
Heedless of Fate.
The valley of the Conemaugh in which Johnstown stood lies between the
steep walls of lofty hills. The gathering of the rain into torrents in
that region is quick and precipitate. The river on one side roared out
its warning, but the people would not take heed of the danger impending
over them on the other side--the great South Fork dam, two and a half
miles up the valley and looming one hundred feet in height from base to
top. Behind it were piled the waters, a great, ponderous mass, like the
treasured wrath of fate. Their surface was about three hundred feet
above the deserted town.
If Noah's neighbors thought it would be only a little shower the people
of Johnstown were yet more foolish. The railroad officials had
repeatedly told them that the dam threatened destruction. They still
perversely lulled themselves into a false security. The blow came, when
it did, like a flash. It was as if the heavens had fallen in liquid fury
upon the earth. It was as if ocean itself had been precipitated into an
abyss. The slow but inexorable march of the mightiest glacier of the
Alps, though comparable, was not equal to this in force. The whole of a
Pyramid, shot from a colossal catapult, would not have been the petty
charge of a pea shooter to it. Imagine Niagara, or a greater even than
Niagara, falling upon an ordinary collection of brick and wooden houses.
An Inconceivable Force.
The South Fork Reservoir was the largest in the United States, and it
contained millions of tons of water. When its fetters were loosened,
crumbling before it like sand, a building or even a rock that stood in
its path presented as much resistance as a card house. The dread
execution was little more than the work of an instant.
The flood passed over the town as it would over a pile of shingles,
covering over or carrying with it everything that stood in its way. It
bounded down the valley, wreaking destruction and death on each hand and
in its fore. Torrents that poured down out of the wilds of the mountains
swelled its volume.
All along from the point of its release it bore debris and corpses as
its hideous trophies. In a very brief time it displayed some of both, as
if in hellish glee, to the horrified eyes of Pittsburg, seventy-eight
miles west of the town of Johnstown that had been, having danced them
along on its exultant billows or rolled them over and over in the depths
of its dark current all the way through the Conemaugh, the Kiskiminitas
and the Allegheny river.
It was like a fearful monster, gnashing its dripping jaws in the scared
face of the multitude, in the flesh of its victims.
One eye-witness of the effects of the deluge declares that he saw five
hundred dead bodies. Hundreds were counted by others. It will take many
a day to make up the death roll. It will take many a day to make up the
reckoning of the material loss.
If any pen could describe the scenes of terror, anguish and destruction
which have taken place in Conemaugh Valley it could write an epic
greater than the "Iliad." The accounts that come tell of hairbreadth
escapes, heartrending tragedies and deeds of heroism almost without
number.
A Climax of Horror.
As if to add a lurid touch of horror to the picture that might surpass
all the rest a conflagration came to mock those who were in fear of
drowning with a death yet more terrible. Where the ruins of Johnstown,
composed mainly of timber, had been piled up forty feet high against a
railroad bridge below the town a fire was started and raged with eager
fury. It is said that scores of persons were burned alive, their
piercing cries appealing for aid to hundreds of spectators who stood on
the banks of the river, but could do nothing.
Western Pennsylvania is in mourning. Business in the cities is virtually
suspended and all minds are bent upon this great horror, all hearts
convulsed with the common sorrow.
Heartrending Scenes and Heroic Struggles for Life.
Another eye-witness describes the calamity as follows: A flood of death
swept down the Alleghany Mountains yesterday afternoon and last night.
Almost the entire city of Johnstown is swimming about in the rushing,
angry tide. Dead bodies are floating about in every direction, and
almost every piece of movable timber is carrying from the doomed city a
corpse of humanity, drifting with the raging waters. The disaster
overtook Johnstown about six o'clock last evening.
As the train bearing the writer sped eastward, the reports at each stop
grew more appalling. At Derry a group of railway officials were gathered
who had come from Bolivar, the end of the passable portion of the road
westward. They had seen but a small portion of the awful flood, but
enough to allow them to imagine the rest. Down through the Packsaddle
came the rushing waters. The wooded heights of the Alleghanies looked
down in wonder at the scene of the most terrible destruction that ever
struck the romantic valley of the Conemaugh.
The water was rising when the men left at six o'clock at the rate of
five feet an hour. Clinging to improvised rafts, constructed in the
death battle from floating boards and timbers, were agonized men, women
and children, their heartrending shrieks for help striking horror to the
breasts of the onlookers. Their cries were of no avail. Carried along at
railway speed on the breast of this rushing torrent, no human ingenuity
could devise a means of rescue.
With pallid face and hair clinging wet and damp to her cheek, a mother
was seen grasping a floating timber, while on her other arm she held her
babe, already drowned. With a death-grip on a plank a strong man just
giving up hope cast an imploring look to those on the bank, and an
instant later he had sunk into the waves. Prayers to God and cries to
those in safety rang above the roaring waves.
The special train pulled into Bolivar at half-past eleven last night,
and the trainmen were there notified that further progress was
impossible. The greatest excitement prevailed at this place, and parties
of citizens are out all the time endeavoring to save the poor
unfortunates that are being hurled to eternity on the rushing torrent.
Attempts at Rescue.
The tidal wave struck Bolivar just after dark, and in five minutes the
Conemaugh rose from six to forty feet and the waters spread out over the
whole country. Soon houses began floating down, and clinging to the
debris were men, women and children shrieking for aid. A large number
of citizens at once gathered on the county bridge, and they were
reinforced by a number from Garfield, a town on the opposite side of the
river.
They brought a number of ropes and these were thrown over into the
boiling waters as persons drifted by in efforts to save some poor
beings. For half an hour all efforts were fruitless, until at last, when
the rescuers were about giving up all hope, a little boy, astride a
shingle roof, managed to catch hold of one of the ropes. He caught it
under his left arm and was thrown violently against an abutment, but
managed to keep hold, and was successfully pulled on to the bridge amid
the cheers of the onlookers. His name was Hessler and his rescuer was a
trainman named Carney. The lad was at once taken to the town of Garfield
and was cared for. The boy was aged about sixteen. His story of the
frightful calamity is as follows:
The Alarm.
"With my father I was spending the day at my grandfather's house in
Cambria City. In the house at the time were Theodore, Edward and John
Kintz, and John Kintz, Jr.; Miss Mary Kintz, Mrs. Mary Kintz, wife of
John Kintz, Jr.; Miss Treacy Kintz, Mrs. Rica Smith, John Hirsch and
four children, my father and myself. Shortly after five o'clock there
was a noise of roaring waters and screams of people. We looked out the
door and saw persons running. My father told us to never mind, as the
waters would not rise further.
"But soon we saw houses being swept away, and then we ran up to the
floor above. The house was three stories, and we were at last forced to
the top one. In my fright I jumped on the bed. It was an old fashioned
one, with heavy posts. The water kept rising and my bed was soon afloat.
Gradually it was lifted up. The air in the room grew close and the house
was moving. Still the bed kept rising and pressed the ceiling. At last
the posts pushed against the plaster. It yielded and a section of the
roof gave way. Then suddenly I found myself on the roof, and was being
carried down stream.
Saved.
"After a little this roof began to part, and I was afraid I was going to
be drowned, but just then another house with a shingle roof floated by,
and I managed to crawl on it, and floated down until nearly dead with
cold, when I was saved. After I was freed from the house I did not see
my father. My grandfather was on a tree, but he must have been drowned,
as the waters were rising fast. John Kintz, Jr., was also on a tree.
Miss Mary Kintz and Mrs. Mary Kintz I saw drown. Miss Smith was also
drowned. John Hirsch was in a tree, but the four children were drowned.
The scenes were terrible. Live bodies and corpses were floating down
with me and away from me. I would see persons, hear them shriek, and
then they would disappear. All along the line were people who were
trying to save us, but they could do nothing, and only a few were
caught."
This boy's story is but one incident, and shows what happened to one
family. No one knows what has happened to the hundreds who were in the
path of the rushing water. It is impossible to get anything in the way
of news save meagre details.
An eye-witness at Bolivar Block Station tells a story of unparalleled
heroism that occurred at the lower bridge which crosses the Conemaugh at
this point. A. Young, with two women was seen coming down the river on a
part of the floor. At the upper bridge a rope was thrown down to them.
This they all failed to catch. Between the two bridges he was noticed to
point towards the elder woman, who, it is supposed, was his mother. He
was then seen to instruct the women how to catch the rope that was
lowered from the other bridge. Down came the raft with a rush. The brave
man stood with his arms around the two women.
Unavailing Courage.
As they swept under the bridge he seized the rope. He was jerked
violently away from the two women, who failed to get a hold on the rope.
Seeing that they would not be rescued, he dropped the rope and fell back
on the raft, which floated on down the river. The current washed their
frail craft in toward the bank. The young man was enabled to seize hold
of a branch of a tree. He aided the two women to get up into the tree.
He held on with his hands and rested his feet on a pile of driftwood. A
piece of floating debris struck the drift, sweeping it away. The man
hung with his body immersed in the water. A pile of drift soon
collected and he was enabled to get another insecure footing. Up the
river there was a sudden crash, and a section of the bridge was swept
away and floated down the stream, striking the tree and washing it away.
All three were thrown into the water and were drowned before the eyes of
the horrified spectators just opposite the town of Bolivar.
Early in the evening a woman with her two children was seen to pass
under the bridge at Bolivar clinging to the roof of a coal house. A rope
was lowered to her, but she shook her head and refused to desert the
children. It was rumored that all three were saved at Cokeville, a few
miles below Bolivar. A later report from Lockport says that the
residents succeeded in rescuing five people from the flood, two women
and three men. One man succeeded in getting out of the water unaided.
They were taken care of by the people of the town.
A Child's Faith.
A little girl passed under the bridge just before dark. She was kneeling
on a part of a floor and had her hands clasped as if in prayer. Every
effort was made to save her, but they all proved futile. A railroader
who was standing by remarked that the piteous appearance of the little
waif brought tears to his eyes. All night long the crowd stood about the
ruins of the bridge which had been swept away at Bolivar. The water
rushed past with a roar, carrying with it parts of houses, furniture and
trees. The flood had evidently spent its force up the valley. No more
living persons were being carried past. Watchers with lanterns remained
along the banks until daybreak, when the first view of the awful
devastation of the flood was witnessed.
Along the bank lay remnants of what had once been dwelling houses and
stores; here and there was an uprooted tree. Piles of drift lay about,
in some of which bodies of the victims of the flood will be found.
Rescuing parties are being formed in all towns along the railroad.
Houses have been thrown open to refugees, and every possible means is
being used to protect the homeless.
Wrecking Trains to the Rescue.
The wrecking trains of the Pennsylvania Railroad are slowly making their
way east to the unfortunate city. No effort was being made to repair the
wrecks, and the crews of the trains were organized into rescuing
parties, and an effort will be made to send out a mail train this
morning. The chances are that they will go no further east than
Florence. There is absolutely no news from Johnstown. The little city is
entirely cut off from communication with the outside world. The damage
done is inestimable. No one can tell its extent.
The little telegraph stations along the road are filled with anxious
groups of men who have friends and relatives in Johnstown. The smallest
item of news is eagerly seized upon and circulated. If favorable they
have a moment of relief, if not their faces become more gloomy. Harry
Fisher, a young telegraph operator who was at Bolivar when the first
rush began, says:--"We knew nothing of the disaster until we noticed the
river slowly rising and then more rapidly. News then reached us from
Johnstown that the dam at South Fork had burst. Within three hours the
water in the river rose at least twenty feet. Shortly before six o'clock
ruins of houses, beds, household utensils, barrels and kegs came
floating past the bridges. At eight o'clock the water was within six
feet of the road-bed of the bridge. The wreckage floated past without
stopping for at least two hours. Then it began to lessen, and night
coming suddenly upon us we could see no more. The wreckage was floating
by for a long time before the first living persons passed. Fifteen
people that I saw were carried down by the river. One of these, a boy,
was saved, and three of them were drowned just directly below the town.
It was an awful sight and one that I will not soon forget."
Hundreds of animals lost their lives. The bodies of horses, dogs and
chickens floated past. The little boy who was rescued at Bolivar had two
dogs as companions during his fearful ride. The dogs were drowned just
before reaching the bridge. One old mule swam past. Its shoulders were
torn, but it was alive when swept past the town.
Saved from a Watery Grave to Perish by Flames.
After a long, weary ride of eight or nine miles over the worst of
country roads New Florence, fourteen miles from Johnstown, was reached.
The road bed between this place and Bolivar was washed out in many
places. The trackmen and the wreck crews were all night in the most
dangerous portions of the road.
The last man from Johnstown brought the information that scarcely a
house remained in the city. The upper portion above the railroad bridge
had been completely submerged. The water dammed up against the viaduct,
the wreckage and debris finishing the work that the torrent had failed
to accomplish. The bridge at Johnstown proved too stanch for the fury of
the water. It is a heavy piece of masonry, and was used as a viaduct by
the old Pennsylvania Canal. Some of the top stones were displaced.
The story reached here a short time ago that a family consisting of
father and mother and nine children were washed away in a creek at
Lockport. The mother managed to reach the shore, but the husband and
children were carried out into the Conemaugh to drown. The woman is
crazed over the terrible event.
A Night of Horror.
After night settled down upon the mountains the horror of the scenes was
enhanced. Above the roar of the water could be heard the piteous appeals
from the unfortunate as they were carried by. To add also to the terror
of the night, a brilliant illumination lit up the sky. This illumination
could be plainly seen from this place.
A message received from Sang Hollow stated that this light came from a
hundred burning wrecks of houses that were piled upon the Johnstown
Bridge. A supervisor from up the road brought the information that the
wreckage at Johnstown was piled up forty feet above the bridge.
The startling news came in that more than a thousand lives had been
lost. This cannot be substantiated. By actual count one hundred and ten
people had been seen floating past Sang Hollow before dark. Forty-seven
were counted passing New Florence and the number had diminished to eight
at Bolivar. The darkness coming on stopped any further count, and it was
only by the agonizing cries that rang out above the waters that it was
known that a human being was being carried to death.
An Irresistible Torrent.
The scenes along the river were wild in the extreme. Although the water
was subsiding, still as it dashed against the rocks that filled the
narrow channel of the Conemaugh its spray was carried high up on the
shore. The towns all along the line of the railroad from Johnstown west
had received visitations. Many of the houses in New Florence were
partially under water. At Bolivar the whole lower part of the town was
submerged.
The ride over the mountain road gave one a good idea of the cause of
this disaster. Every creek was a rushing river and every rivulet a
raging torrent. The ground was water soaked, and when the immense
mountain district that drains into the Conemaugh above South Fork is
taken into consideration the terrible volume of water that must have
accumulated can be realized. Gathering, as it did, within a few
minutes, it came against the breast of the South Fork dam with
irresistible force. The frightened inhabitants along the Conemaugh
describe the flood as something awful. The first rise came almost
without warning, and the torrent came roaring down the mountain passes
in one huge wave, several feet in height. After the first swell the
water continued to rise at a fearful rate.
Daylight Brings No Relief.
The gray morning light does not seem to show either hope or mitigation
of the awful fears of the night. It has been a hard night to everybody.
The overworked newspaper men, who have been without rest and food since
yesterday afternoon, and the operators who have handled the messages are
already preparing for the work of the day. There has been a long wrangle
over the possession of a special train for the press between rival
newspaper men, and it has delayed the work of others who are anxious to
get further east.
Even here, so far from the washed-out towns, seven bodies have been
found. Two were in a tree, a man and a woman, where the flood had
carried them. The country people are coming into the town in large
numbers telling stories of disaster along the river banks in sequestered
places.
Floating Houses.
John McCarthey, a carpenter, who lives in Johnstown, reached here about
four o'clock. He left Johnstown at half-past four yesterday afternoon
and says the scene then was indescribable. The people had been warned
early in the morning to move to the highlands, but they did not heed the
warning, although it was repeated a number of times up to one o'clock,
when the water poured into Cinder street several feet deep. Then the
houses began rocking to and fro, and finally the force of the current
carried buildings across streets and vacant lots and dashed them against
each other, breaking them into fragments. These buildings were full of
the people who had laughed at the cry of danger. McCarthey says that in
some cases he counted as many as fifteen persons clinging to buildings.
McCarthey's wife was with him. She had three sisters, who lived near
her. They saw the house in which these girls lived carried away, and
then they could endure the situation no longer and hurried away. The
husband feared his wife would go crazy. They went inland along country
roads until they reached here.
It is said to be next to impossible to get to Johnstown proper to-day in
any manner except by rowboat. The roads are cut up so that even the
countrymen refuse to travel over them in their roughest vehicles. The
only hope is to get within about three miles by a special train or by
hand car.
The Dead Cast Up.
Nine dead bodies have been picked up within the limits of this borough
since daylight. None of them has yet been recognized. Five are women.
One woman, probably twenty-five years old, had clasped in her arms a
babe about six months old. The body of a young man was discovered in the
branches of a huge tree which had been carried down the stream. All the
orchard crops and shrubbery along the banks of the river have been
destroyed.
The body of another woman has just been discovered in the river here.
Her foot was seen above the surface of the water and a rope was fastened
about it.
A Roof as a Raft.
John Weber and his wife, an old couple, Michael Metzgar and John Forney
were rescued near here early this morning. They had been carried from
their home in Cambria City on the roof of the house. There were seven
others on the roof when it was carried off, all of whom were drowned.
They were unknown to Weber, having drifted on to the roof from floating
debris. Weber and wife were thoroughly drenched and were almost helpless
from exposure. They were unable to walk when taken off the roof at this
place. They are now at the hotel here.
Hundreds of people from Johnstown and up river towns are hurrying here
in search of friends and relatives who were swept away in last night's
flood. The most intense excitement prevails. The street corners are
crowded with pale and anxious people who tell of the calamity with bated
breath. Squire Bennett has charge of the dead bodies, and he is having
them properly cared for. They are being prepared for burial, but will be
held here for identification.
Four boys have just come from the river bank above here. They say that
on the opposite side a number of bodies can be seen lying in the mud.
They found the body of a woman on this side badly bruised.
R.B. Rodgers, Justice of the Peace at Nineveh, has wired the Coroner at
Greensburg that one hundred dead bodies have been found at that place,
and he asks what is to be done with them. From this one can estimate
that the loss of life will reach over one thousand.
A report has just been received that twenty persons are on an island
near Nineveh and that men and women are on a partly submerged tree.
A report has just reached here that at least one hundred people were
consumed in the flames at Johnstown last night, but it cannot be
verified here. The air is filled with thrilling and most incredible
stories, but none of them have as yet been confirmed. It is certain,
however, that even the worst cannot be imagined.
Warnings Remembered Too Late.
It is very evident that more lives have been lost because of foolish
incredulity than from ignorance of the danger. For more than a year
there have been fears of an accident of just such a character. The
foundations of the dam were considered to be shaky early last spring and
many increasing leakages were reported from time to time.
According to people who live in Johnstown and other towns on the line
of the river, ample time was given to the Johnstown folks by the
railroad officials and by other gentlemen of standing and reputation. In
dozens, yes, hundreds of cases, this warning was utterly disregarded,
and those who heeded it early in the day were looked upon as cowards,
and many jeers were uttered by lips that now are cold among the rank
grass beside the river.
There has grown up a bitter feeling among the surviving sufferers
against those who owned the lake and dam, and damage suits will be
plentiful by and by.
The dam in Stony Creek, above Johnstown, broke about noon yesterday and
thousands of feet of lumber passed down the stream. It is impossible to
tell what the loss of life will be, but at nine o'clock the Coroner of
Westmoreland county sent a message out saying that 100 bodies had been
recovered at Nineveh, halfway from here to Johnstown. Sober minded
people do not hesitate to say that 1,200 is moderate.
Fire's Awful Work.
"How can anybody tell how many are dead?" said a railroad engineer this
morning. "I have been at Long Hollow with my train since eleven o'clock
yesterday, and I have seen fully five hundred persons lost in the
flood."
J.W. Esch, a brave railroad employee, saved sixteen lives at Nineveh.
The most awful culmination of the awful night was the roasting of a
hundred or more persons in mid-flood. The ruins of houses, old buildings
and other structures swept against the new railroad bridge at
Johnstown, and from an overturned stove or some such cause the upper
part of the wreckage caught fire.
There were crowds of men, women and children on the wreck, and their
screams were soon heard. They were literally roasted on the flood. Soon
after the fire burned itself out other persons were thrown against the
mass. There were some fifty people in sight when the ruins suddenly
broke up and were swept under the bridge into the darkness.
The latest news from Johnstown is that but two houses could be seen in
the town. It is also said that only three houses remain in Cambria City.
The first authentic news was from W.N. Hays, of the Pennsylvania
Railroad Company, who reached New Florence at nine o'clock. He says the
valley towns are annihilated.
Destruction at Blairsville.
The flood in the Conemaugh River at this point is the heaviest ever
known here. At this hour the railroad bridge between here and
Blairsville intersection has been swept away, and also the new bridge at
Coketon, half a mile below. It is now feared that the iron bridge at the
lower end of this town will go. A living woman and dead man, supposed to
be her husband, were seen going under the railroad bridge. They were
seen to come from under the bridge safely, but shortly disappeared and
were seen no more.
A great many families lose their household goods. The river is running
full of timber, houses, goods, etc. The loss will be heavy. The
excitement here is very great. The river is still rising. There are some
families below the town in the second story of their houses who cannot
get out. It is feared that if the water goes much higher the loss of
life will be very great. The railroad company had fourteen cars of coal
on their bridge when it went down, and all were swept down the river.
The town bridge has just succumbed to the seething floods, whose roar
can be heard a long distance. The water is still rising and it is
thought that the West Pennsylvania Railroad will be without a single
bridge. It is reported that a man went down with the Blairsville bridge
while he was adjusting a headlight.
Havoc about Altoona.
The highest and most destructive flood that has visited this place for
fifty years occurred yesterday. It has been raining continuously for the
past twenty-four hours. The Juniata river is ten feet above low water
mark and is still rising. The lower streets of Gaysport bordering on the
river bank are submerged, and the water is two feet deep on the first
floors of the houses there. The water rose so rapidly that the people
had to be removed from the houses in boats and wagons. Three railroad
trestles and a number of bridges over the streams have been carried
away, and railroad travel between this place and the surrounding towns
has been interrupted.
Property of all kinds was carried off. The truck gardens and grain
fields along the river were utterly destroyed, and the fences carried
away. The iron furnaces and rolling mills at this place and Duncanville
were compelled to shut down on account of the high water. Keene &
Babcock lost 300,000 brick in the kiln ready to burn, G.W. Rhodes
350,000, and Joseph Hart 15,000. It is estimated that the flood has done
over $50,000 damage in this vicinity. The fences of the Blair County
Agricultural Society were destroyed.
Alarm at York.
Last night was one of great alarm here. It rained steadily all day, some
of the showers being severe. The great flood of 1884 is forcibly
recalled. Many families are moving out. At half-past one A.M. a general
alarm was sounded on the bells of the city.
The flood in the Susquehanna River here reached its greatest height
about six o'clock this morning, when all bridges save one were under
water. Business places and residences in the low section were flooded to
a great extent, and the damage in this city alone amounts to $25,000 so
far. The injury to the Spring Grove paper mills near this city is heavy.
By noon the water had fallen sufficiently to restore travel over nearly
all the bridges.
A number of bridges in the county have been swept away, and the loss in
the county exclusive of the city is estimated at $100,000.
In attempting to catch some driftwood James McIlvaine lost his balance
and fell into the raging current and was drowned.
Seven bodies have been taken from the water and debris on the river
banks at New Florence. One body has also been taken from the river at
this point, that of a young girl. None of them have been identified.
The whole face of the country between here and New Florence is under
water, and houses, bridges and buildings fill the fields and even perch
upon the hillside all the way to Johnstown. Great flocks of crows are
already filling the valley, while buzzards are almost as frequently
seen. The banks of the river are lined with people who are looking as
well for booty as for bodies. Much valuable property was carried away in
the houses as well as from houses not washed away.
The river has fallen again into its channel, and nothing in the stream
itself except its red, angry color shows the wild horror of last night.
It has fallen fully twenty feet since midnight, and by to-night it will
have attained its normal depth.
Painful Scenes.
At all points from Greensburg to Long Hollow, the limit of the present
trouble, scores of people throng the stations begging and beseeching
railroad men on the repair trains to take them aboard, as they are
almost frenzied with anxiety and apprehension in regard to their friends
who live at or near Johnstown. Strong men are as tearful as the women
who join in the request.
Pitiable sights and scenes multiply more and more rapidly. The
Conemaugh is one great valley of mourning. Those who have not lost
friends have lost their house or their substance, and apparently the
grief for the one is as poignant as for the other.
They Were Warned.
The great volume of water struck Johnstown about half-past five in the
afternoon. It did not find the people unprepared, as they had had notice
from South Fork that the dam was threatening to go. Many, however,
disregarded the notice and remained in their houses in the lower part of
the city and were caught before they could get out.
Superintendent Pitcairn, of the Pennsylvania Railroad, who has spent the
entire day in assisting not only those who were afflicted by the flood,
but also in an attempt to reopen his road, went home this morning.
Before he left he issued an order to all Pennsylvania Railroad employees
to keep a sharp lookout for bodies, both in the river and in the bushes,
and to return them to their friends.
Assistant Superintendent Trump is still on the ground near Lone Hollow
directing the movements of gravel and construction trains, which are
arriving as fast as they can be fitted up and started out. The roadbeds
of both the Pennsylvania and the West Pennsylvania railroads are badly
damaged, and it will cost the latter, especially from the Bolivar
Junction to Saltsburg, many thousands of dollars to repair injuries to
embankments alone.
In Pittsburg there was but one topic of conversation, and that was the
Johnstown deluge. Crowds of eager watchers all day long besieged the
newspaper bulletin boards and rendered streets impassable in their
vicinity. Many of them had friends or relatives in the stricken
district, and "Names!" "Names!" was their cry. But there were no names.
The storm which had perhaps swept away their loved ones had also carried
away all means of communication and their vigil was unrewarded. It is
not yet known whether the telegraph operator at Johnstown is dead or
alive. The nearest point to that city which can be reached to-night is
New Florence, and the one wire there is used almost constantly by orders
for coffins, embalming fluid and preparing special cars to carry the
recovered dead to their homes.
Along the banks of the now turbulent Allegheny were placed watchers for
dead bodies, and all wreckage was carefully scanned for the dead. The
result of this vigilance was the recovery of one body, that of a woman
floating down on a pile of debris. Seven other bodies were seen, but
could not be reached owing to the swift moving wreckage by which they
were surrounded.
A Heartrending Sight.
A railroad conductor who arrived in the city this morning said:--"There
is no telling how many lives are lost. We got as far as Bolivar, and I
tell you it is a terrible sight. The body of a boy was picked up by some
of us there, and there were eleven bodies recovered altogether. I do
not think that anyone got into Johnstown, and it is my opinion that they
will not get in very soon. No one who is not on the grounds has any idea
of the damage done. It will be at least a week before the extent of this
flood is known, and then I think many bodies will never be recovered."
Assistant Superintendent Wilson, of the West Pennsylvania Railroad,
received the following despatch from Nineveh to-day:--
"There appears to be a large number of people lodged in the trees and
rubbish along the line. Many are alive. Rescuing parties should be
advised at every station."
Another telegram from Nineveh said that up to noon 175 bodies had been
taken from the river at that point.
The stage of water in the Allegheny this afternoon became so alarming
that residents living in the low-lying districts began to remove their
household effects to a higher grade. The tracks of the Pittsburgh and
Western Railroad are under water in several places, and great
inconvenience is felt in moving trains.
Criminal Negligence.
It was stated at the office of the Pennsylvania Railroad early this
morning that the deaths would run up into the thousands rather than
hundreds, as was at first supposed. Despatches received state that the
stream of human beings that was swept before the floods was pitiful to
behold. Men, women and children were carried along frantically shrieking
for help. Rescue was impossible.
Husbands were swept past their wives, and children were borne along at
a terrible speed to certain death before the eyes of their terrorized
and frantic parents. It was said at the depot that it was impossible to
estimate the number whose lives were lost in the flood. It will simply
be a matter of conjecture for several days as to who was lost and who
escaped.
The people of Johnstown were warned of the possibility of the bursting
of the dam during the morning, but very few if any of the inhabitants
took the warning seriously. Shortly after noon it gave way about five
miles above Johnstown, and sweeping everything before it burst upon the
town with terrible force.
Everything was carried before it, and not an instant's time was given to
seek safety. Houses were demolished, swept from their foundations and
carried in the flood to a culvert near the town. Here a mass of all
manner of debris soon lodged, and by evening it had dammed the water
back into the city over the tops of many of the still remaining
chimneys.
The Dam Always a Menace.
Assistant Superintendent Trump, of the Pennsylvania, is at Conemaugh,
but the officials at the depot had not been able to receive a line from
him until as late as half-past two o'clock this morning. It was said
also that it will be impossible to get a train through either one way or
the other for at least two or three days. This applies also to the
mails, as there is absolutely no way of getting mails through.
"We were afraid of that lake," said a gentleman who had lived in
Johnstown for years, "we were afraid of that lake seven years ago. No
one could see the immense height to which that artificial dam had been
built without fearing the tremendous power of the water behind it. I
doubt if there was a man or woman in Johnstown who at some time or other
had not feared and spoken of the terrible disaster that has now come.
"People wondered and asked why the dam was not strengthened, as it
certainly had become weak, but nothing was done, and by and by they
talked less and less about it as nothing happened, though now and then
some would shake their heads as though conscious that the fearful day
would come some time when their worst fears would be transcended by the
horror of the actual occurrence.
Converted Into a Lake.
"Johnstown is in a hollow between two rivers, and that lake must have
swept over the city at a depth of forty feet. It cannot be, it is
impossible that such an awful thing could happen to a city of ten
thousand inhabitants, and if it has, thousands have lost their lives,
and men are to blame for it, for warnings have been uttered a thousand
times and have received no attention."
The body of a Welsh woman, sixty years of age, was taken from the river
near the suspension bridge, at ten o'clock this morning. Four other
bodies were seen, but owing to the mass of wreckage which is coming
down they could not be recovered, and passed down the Ohio River.
A citizens' meeting has been called to devise means to aid the
sufferers. The Pennsylvania Railroad officials have already placed cars
on Liberty street for the purpose of receiving provisions and clothing,
and up to this hour many prominent merchants have made heavy donations.
Anxiety of the People.
The difficulty of obtaining definite information added tremendously to
the excitement and apprehension of the people in Pittsburgh who had
relatives and friends at the scene of the disaster.
Members of the South Fork Club, and among them some of the most eminent
men in the Pittsburgh financial and mercantile world, were in or near
Johnstown, and several of them were accompanied by their wives and
families. There happened to be also quite a number of residents of
Johnstown in Pittsburgh, and when the news of the horror was confirmed
and the railroads bulletined the fact that no trains would go east last
night the scene at Union Depot was profoundly pathetic and exciting. But
two trains were sent out by the Pennsylvania road from the Union station
at Pittsburgh.
A despatch states that the Cambria Iron Company's plant on the north
side of the Conemaugh River at Johnstown is a complete wreck. Until this
despatch was received it was not thought that this portion of the plant
had been seriously injured. It was known that the portion of the plant
located on the south bank of the river was washed away, and this was
thought to be the extent of the damage to the property of that immense
corporation. The plant is said to be valued at $5,000,000.
[Illustration]