40 years later
10/06/12 05:23
40 years ago today, the people of Rapid City woke to scenes of amazing destruction. During the night of June 9 – 10, 1972 one of the deadliest flash floods in history roared through the city. When they were able to count, the numbers were staggering. 238 people had died. 5 of the victims were never recovered. Among the rescuers who were lost in the attempt to save others were 3 national guardsmen, 3 firefighters, 7 airmen from Ellsworth Air Force Base, 1 police reserve officer and others who attempted to lend a hand to the victims. 565 mobile homes were destroyed 770 permanent homes were destroyed. Thousands of homes were damaged. Over 5,000 vehicles were destroyed.
I wasn’t there, though I did visit after the flood and see the parking lots full of destroyed vehicles awaiting transport away from the city, the mountains of mud in many places, the houses transported to unusual locations, the debris, the paint marks on buildings showing that they had been searched for bodies. It was grim. It showed the power of natural disaster.
I’ve lived in Rapid City since before the 25th anniversary, and each anniversary brings a few more stories. Our library serves as an official place to collect the stories of the survivors and the Journey Museum has an excellent display on the flood. This year’s anniversary has sparked a radio series, a series of articles in the newspaper public commemoration events and other activities that spark memories.
I was thinking of the flood and its victims as I approached Rapid City last night. I was coming into town from the East. At about 9:30, as I drove past Wall, I could see the dark storm clouds. The lightning was putting on quite a light show all across the hills. I knew I was driving into a storm of some force, but I wanted to get home and there was a steady stream of cars heading east, so I knew others had driven through the storm. It was raining pretty hard at Wall. After I passed the second Wall exit, the hail started. There weren’t any exits for quite a few miles so I slowed down, but kept going. I’ve been caught out in the hail before. I know how loud it sounds on the roof of a vehicle. Fortunately, I reminded myself, the pickup I was driving had been hailed upon last year and sported dents from hail much larger than what I was experiencing. I kept checking the size of the hail by looking at the highway in the headlights of the pickup. Pea-sized hail probably won’t take the windshield out of a pickup at 25 miles per hour. I took consolation in the small size of the hail, in having had the experience of being out in hail before, and the fact that the pickup probably wouldn’t suffer too much additional damage. But I also know that I could have been sitting in a café in Wall with my hands wrapped around a hot mug of tea as I waited out the storm had I not been so eager to get home.
Before Wasta, I was out of the hail and had sped up quite a bit, though there were some periods of heavy rain. I was just coming up to Jensen Road when the second wave of hail came. I was able exit and park under the underpass until the hail passed. The third wave of hail, between New Underwood and Box Elder was mild and short-lived and by then I could see the lights of Rapid City.
It wasn’t like that for the victims of the flood. Although they didn’t report hail, they did report the flashes of lightning. The lightning was the only light they could see. The city was dark as electrical systems failed. Their car headlights faded as the engines were flooded and the batteries gave out. Many of them were not outside because they had made poor decisions, but rather because they were forced to flee the floodwaters. Unlike me, heading toward home in conditions I had experienced before, they had nothing in their experience to prepare them for the night that lay ahead. They didn’t know whether or not they would be alive to greet the morning.
Some of the people whose stories I have heard reported that the hardest part of the night was hearing the cries and screams of other victims and not having any way to respond to them. They didn’t have ropes or other rescue equipment. They were stranded by the waters and wondering how to stay alive themselves. As the night wore on the cries faded and there were fewer and fewer screams for help. That was even worse because they could imagine what had happened. In the morning’s light the discovered that it was even worse than they had imagined.
Those who survived speak of how the flashes of lightning throughout the night illuminated the scenes of destruction. Trees had been ripped from their roots. Houses had been moved from original locations and crushed. Cars had been stacked up on top of each other. Streets looked like rivers. Rooftops and trees held people clinging on for dear life. They were wet, they were cold, they were miserable. And after the brief flash of light they were alone in the dark once again. Except for the screaming. They knew there were others out there.
It was what they call a 500-year flood event. The rumors that Pactola Dam had failed were not true, but water enough to fill the reservoir 14 times over had fallen on the hills. In Keystone over 15 inches of rain fell in 6 hours. One location reported 4 inches in 30 minutes. The dam at Canyon Lake did fail. Contrary to rumors circulating over the next week, none of the crocodiles escaped from Reptile Gardens. There were enough other dangers lurking in the water and the mud.
40 years later our city has recovered in many ways. Fortunately we have not forgotten. A 500 year flood doesn’t mean it won’t happen again for five centuries. It means that every year we have a 1 in 500 chance it could happen this year. Remembering is essential to making the kind of plans that will keep people safe the next time the hills are drenched by a huge storm.
I was not here, but I have heard the stories. That is close enough for me. An occasional drive through a thundershower is enough to remind me of the power of nature. It is a lesson not to be forgotten.
I’ve lived in Rapid City since before the 25th anniversary, and each anniversary brings a few more stories. Our library serves as an official place to collect the stories of the survivors and the Journey Museum has an excellent display on the flood. This year’s anniversary has sparked a radio series, a series of articles in the newspaper public commemoration events and other activities that spark memories.
I was thinking of the flood and its victims as I approached Rapid City last night. I was coming into town from the East. At about 9:30, as I drove past Wall, I could see the dark storm clouds. The lightning was putting on quite a light show all across the hills. I knew I was driving into a storm of some force, but I wanted to get home and there was a steady stream of cars heading east, so I knew others had driven through the storm. It was raining pretty hard at Wall. After I passed the second Wall exit, the hail started. There weren’t any exits for quite a few miles so I slowed down, but kept going. I’ve been caught out in the hail before. I know how loud it sounds on the roof of a vehicle. Fortunately, I reminded myself, the pickup I was driving had been hailed upon last year and sported dents from hail much larger than what I was experiencing. I kept checking the size of the hail by looking at the highway in the headlights of the pickup. Pea-sized hail probably won’t take the windshield out of a pickup at 25 miles per hour. I took consolation in the small size of the hail, in having had the experience of being out in hail before, and the fact that the pickup probably wouldn’t suffer too much additional damage. But I also know that I could have been sitting in a café in Wall with my hands wrapped around a hot mug of tea as I waited out the storm had I not been so eager to get home.
Before Wasta, I was out of the hail and had sped up quite a bit, though there were some periods of heavy rain. I was just coming up to Jensen Road when the second wave of hail came. I was able exit and park under the underpass until the hail passed. The third wave of hail, between New Underwood and Box Elder was mild and short-lived and by then I could see the lights of Rapid City.
It wasn’t like that for the victims of the flood. Although they didn’t report hail, they did report the flashes of lightning. The lightning was the only light they could see. The city was dark as electrical systems failed. Their car headlights faded as the engines were flooded and the batteries gave out. Many of them were not outside because they had made poor decisions, but rather because they were forced to flee the floodwaters. Unlike me, heading toward home in conditions I had experienced before, they had nothing in their experience to prepare them for the night that lay ahead. They didn’t know whether or not they would be alive to greet the morning.
Some of the people whose stories I have heard reported that the hardest part of the night was hearing the cries and screams of other victims and not having any way to respond to them. They didn’t have ropes or other rescue equipment. They were stranded by the waters and wondering how to stay alive themselves. As the night wore on the cries faded and there were fewer and fewer screams for help. That was even worse because they could imagine what had happened. In the morning’s light the discovered that it was even worse than they had imagined.
It was what they call a 500-year flood event. The rumors that Pactola Dam had failed were not true, but water enough to fill the reservoir 14 times over had fallen on the hills. In Keystone over 15 inches of rain fell in 6 hours. One location reported 4 inches in 30 minutes. The dam at Canyon Lake did fail. Contrary to rumors circulating over the next week, none of the crocodiles escaped from Reptile Gardens. There were enough other dangers lurking in the water and the mud.
I was not here, but I have heard the stories. That is close enough for me. An occasional drive through a thundershower is enough to remind me of the power of nature. It is a lesson not to be forgotten.