Evening Journal Domestic News July 11, 1889

SEVEN WERE DROWNED

The Johnstown, N. Y., Cloudburst and Flood.

STRANGELY LIKE CONEMAUGH

Except That the Loss of Life Was Fortunately on a Much Smaller Scale—Strange Appearance of the Clouds—A List of the Drowned.

JOHNSTOWN, N. Y., July 11.—By a strange coincidence, at a town of the same name, under almost the same circumstances, the wild scenes of the flood of the Conemaugh have been repeated. Another mud dam has given away; another reservoir has broken loose, and another flood has been sent down a valley. Even the stone arch reappears and plays a fatal part in this second Johnstown story. Nothing is lacking in the similitude, except that the loss of life and property in this case is only an echo of the great Johnstown disaster, and in this case there is an extraordinary phenomenon of nature.

The clouds came together near Johnstown at 5 p. m. As they met they burst and an ocean of water fell from them. Added to the waters from the dams it had washed away, it sent a flood through the little valley of the Cayadutta. Seventy-five persons were washed away; eight persons were killed; an immense amount of property was destroyed; all railroad traffic was suspended. The names of the victims follow:

A List of the Dead.

Albert L. Coakley, aged 48, glovemaker.
Charles F. cer, aged 60, a well-known resident.
Willie Myers, aged 16, employed at glove-making.
L. R. D. Simmons, aged 45, paint and hardware merchant.
L. Bert Stedwell, aged 15, employed in Artisans' glove factory.
Unknown man found in stream at Fonda.
Unidentified woman and child.

Scene of the Cloudburst.

Johnstown is built on the sides of two hills and in the valley between them. It is five miles north of Fonda, a town on the New York Central railroad, 170 miles from New York city. The Cayadutta creek, ten months in the year an insignificant little stream—not half as big as the Conemaugh—flows through it. The creek winds around irregularly among the hills and empties into the Mohawk river just above Fonda. The valley is narrow and winding. Two other little creeks join the Cayadutta in the middle of Johnstown. The rolling green hills that slope down to them are covered with handsome houses. The place is very rich as well as very old.

A Town of Dams.

On the Cayadutta and the other two streams and a good many more that come through the hills in the country about are scores of mills. At every mill there is a dam, and just above every dam there is a reservoir. Most of the mills are glove and mitten factories, composing the town's chief industry. There are 9,000 people in the place. The business part lies on one side of the creek. About half of the residence part is on the other side. Five bridges connected the two.

Uneasy Since the Conemaugh Flood.

Ever since the disaster to their namesake town in Pennsylvania the Johnstown people have felt a little uneasy about having so many dams around them. There were two, one above and the other on the Cayadutta, three miles from town, that were looked upon by some persons as more likely than any of the others to be a source of danger. One was called McVane's and the other was the dam at Hale's mills.

It Was a Strange Storm.

The day of the disaster the thermometer registered 105 in the shade. At half-past 4 two huge black clouds appeared in the almost clear sky; one cloud was in the northwest, the other in the southwest. After much strange maneuvering the clouds rushed together with an accompaniment of thunder and lightning. The place where they met is a half barren knoll, three miles and a half northeast of Johnstown. Persons who were watching the phenomenon say it was like a dam burst in the sky or as though the bottom had fallen out of an aerial reservoir. The water came down, not in drops or sheets, but fell in a mass, like a solid body. At the knoll it drove trees into the earth, flattened out a space clear of vegetation and left other evidences of a great pressure. All the streams that flow through and center in Johnstown became roaring floods. They ran over their banks and poured in rivers through the farms and roads. The dams became cataracts.

The Bridge Swept Away.

The people drowned, whose names appear above, were in a crowd of thirty or forty townspeople who gathered on the Perry street bridge to watch the flood. A policeman tried to drive them off, but they would not go. In a few moments later the dam at McVane's, three miles up the creek, broke. It let all the imprisoned water down upon the dam at Hale's Mills just below, and tossed that clean out of the way. Then the solid wall of water came down the valley, shot straight as a cannon ball for the dam at Hale's and piled that and the rest of the debris it had collected against the stone arch bridge. Half of the solid structure melted away like snow, leaving twenty-five people struggling in the water. They were swept in a second through the ruins of the bridges and far down the stream, clinging to timbers or dashed about at the mercy of the waters.

Rescuing the Drowning.

Then the people had some faint understanding of the calamity of the Conemaugh. The wind blew in gusts. The lightning was as sharp as in a tropical storm. The thunder was almost continuous. In the pitch darkness and heavily falling rain they could hear those in the river crying for help, and still were unable to lend any aid to save them. The creek runs at the rear of a lot of shops further down the stream and then under seven bridges. Men in the shops and on the bridges getting from the cries an idea of what had happened, got ropes and lights. Purdy F. Case rescued Benjamin Nellis and Charley Vosburg. Of the others who were in the water eight men swam out or were tossed out by the caprices of the flood or clung to frames and timbers.