The Barnstormers

There are occasions when I just happen upon a bit of interesting history, purely by chance. I will, from time to time, stop beside the road to read the Historical Markers (for some reason, years ago, and I can't recall why, I began calling them Hysterical Markers) just to pick up some local history. During my Texas years, it seems like I read hundreds of them and most were associated with either a troop movement or bivouac area of the Texans under Generals Fannin or Houston or a similar occasion for the Mexicans under Santa Anna. Regardless, I was just driving and just happened on to some place of historical note. Many times during my travels over the years, I have been placed in an area of interest and I've been fortunate enough to be able to take advantage of the situation to discover some notable history first hand.

I'd like to tell you about my favorite history lesson that started out to be a trip to watch my eldest son play baseball. Matt had graduated from Rose and had begun pitching for the Richmond Roosters in the Frontier League. He called to tell me that he was getting his first start in Johnstown, Pennsylvania. I just had to go, so I went. Johnstown is not exactly an easy place to get to, but back then I still enjoyed traveling and I managed to find my way there. The Johnstown Johnnies played in a rather unique little ballpark that has some interesting history of its own. An oddly shaped place, the right field foul line was abruptly intercepted by the bleachers, which created an extremely inviting home run porch, right down the line. In left field, the foul line was not much longer, if any, but it had this huge screen that in my estimate was 25 to 30 feet high. That stadium was built back in the 1920's and believe it or not, Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig barnstormed through there with their Bustin Babes and Larrupin Lou's. It was a great evening for me to see my son pitch and be in such an interesting environment, not to mention it was Chamber of Commerce Night and they offered free beer. But that wasn't even the most interesting part of the trip.

The following day, Matt and I got together and visited the local museum for the Johnstown Flood. We sat together on a bench and watched a very well made multi-media presentation on such a devastating flood, that I still recall much of it today. What happened to that town back in 1889 is really hard to imagine. The town was used to flooding, to some extent, because of its location in a river valley, but the Flood of 1889 was a disaster almost beyond belief. About 14 miles upstream from Johnstown was Lake Conemaugh, which was owned by the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club. This Club had such notable members as Andrew Carnegie and Andrew Mellon and was a retreat for the very wealthy.

On the 31st of May, the town was experiencing some flooding from heavy rains, as the rivers overflowed their banks and crept into the streets. Many people were moving valuables during the day from the first levels of houses to second and third stories for protection from the rising water. In mid afternoon, disaster struck and changed the town forever. The dam at Lake Conemaugh failed and the water from the one mile wide and two mile long lake began rushing down the valley. I remember them telling us in the presentation that the amount of water was equal to or greater than the amount of water going over Niagara Falls in a half of an hour period of time. Several small villages below the dam were wiped away immediately and the 40 foot high wall of destruction went barreling towards Johnstown around 40 to 50 miles per hour. Ninety-nine families, yes, ninety-nine entire families were killed. Over 1600 homes were destroyed. A total of over 2200 people perished in the flood and that included almost 400 children. The presentation told the stories of some of the survivors and they were both breathtaking and heartbreaking. We were both astounded by the magnitude of the loss and destruction.

Matt left later that day with his team, I believe for Canton, Ohio and I went home. I thought about what I had seen and heard, all the way home. And, from time to time, I still do.