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Flooding at Market Street and Waterfront Avenue in Marietta in the aftermath of Tropical Storm Agnes in 1972.
The main street square in Marietta Borough - several blocks from the Susquehanna River - was flooded and impassable during the 1972 deluge caused by Hurricane Agnes.
The main street square in Marietta Borough - several blocks from the Susquehanna River - was flooded and impassable during the 1972 deluge caused by Hurricane Agnes.
This is a view looking west on West Market Street in Marietta Borough at Waterford Avenue Tuesday, June 21, 2022. This block was flooded from Tropical Storm Agnes 50 years ago.
This is a view looking east on West Market Street in Marietta Borough toward Waterford Avenue Tuesday, June 21, 2022. This block was flooded from Tropical Storm Agnes 50 years ago.
Front street, at bottom, and much of downtown Marietta was underwater after heavy rains during Tropical Storm Agnes in 1972 caused flooding along the Susquehanna River .
Jeffrey Shank, left, and Bob Shank clean after flood waters receded at Shank's Tavern 36 S. Waterford Ave. in Marietta Borough June 26, 1972. This picture that was from the June 27, 1972 Intelligencer Journal, hangs on the wall inside the tavern.
In this photo from June 24, 1972, pavement on the bridge over Little Conestoga Creek, near Maple Grove on Columbia Avenue, Lancaster, was ripped up by water from Tropical Storm Agnes’ torrential rains.
In this LNP archives photo from June 23, 1972, Columbia Pike was closed by flooding from the swollen Little Conestoga Creek
Flooding at Market Street and Waterfront Avenue in Marietta in the aftermath of Tropical Storm Agnes in 1972.
The main street square in Marietta Borough - several blocks from the Susquehanna River - was flooded and impassable during the 1972 deluge caused by Hurricane Agnes.
The main street square in Marietta Borough - several blocks from the Susquehanna River - was flooded and impassable during the 1972 deluge caused by Hurricane Agnes.
This is a view looking west on West Market Street in Marietta Borough at Waterford Avenue Tuesday, June 21, 2022. This block was flooded from Tropical Storm Agnes 50 years ago.
This is a view looking east on West Market Street in Marietta Borough toward Waterford Avenue Tuesday, June 21, 2022. This block was flooded from Tropical Storm Agnes 50 years ago.
Front street, at bottom, and much of downtown Marietta was underwater after heavy rains during Tropical Storm Agnes in 1972 caused flooding along the Susquehanna River .
Jeffrey Shank, left, and Bob Shank clean after flood waters receded at Shank's Tavern 36 S. Waterford Ave. in Marietta Borough June 26, 1972. This picture that was from the June 27, 1972 Intelligencer Journal, hangs on the wall inside the tavern.
In this photo from June 24, 1972, pavement on the bridge over Little Conestoga Creek, near Maple Grove on Columbia Avenue, Lancaster, was ripped up by water from Tropical Storm Agnes’ torrential rains.
In this LNP archives photo from June 23, 1972, Columbia Pike was closed by flooding from the swollen Little Conestoga Creek
I worked at Science Press in Ephrata on June 22, 1972. We heard reports all day about the heavy rain. At day’s end, Mr. Holliday, the company president, stood at the door explaining which roads were impassable because of high water. I could not imagine how I would get to my home in West Hempfield Twp. over several major streams. I spent the night with an aunt nearby and went home the following evening. Our local fire company spent several days pumping out basements. On June 25, as we crossed the Susquehanna River, we saw houses still partially submerged.
After the rain finally stopped, the Conestoga, with a flood level of 11 feet, had crested at 27.8 feet. My family lived on Lampeter Road, and our basement flooded, but others fared far worse. I joined a group of high school friends to help with cleanup in Lancaster. Residents were overwhelmed by the amount of loss they sustained, and as teenagers, we helped where we could. I remember hauling out ruined carpets from homes along the Conestoga and heaving them onto a pick-up truck, along with muddy furniture and discarded household belongings. Homeowners welcomed us in and showed us the water marks Agnes left behind on their walls. Even in the midst of their loss, flood victims provided us with drinks and snacks in gratitude.
The 17 th of June started the most memorable week of my life. My wife, Cheryl, and I were married on that day and, following the celebrations, traveled to Canada to visit Niagara Falls for our honeymoon. Several days later, we started our trip back to Lancaster and met face-to-face with Agnes . We were one of the last vehicles to make it across the bridge and into Harrisburg. When we got to Steelton, a tractor and trailer going the opposite way created such a wave of water it washed our car aside and drowned the motor. Through the darkness, I could see one light and suddenly realized that the river was right up to our car. I put on the flashing lights, and my wife grabbed a suitcase and got out of the car. At just that time, the River Rescue Squad arrived in a step van and was able to transport us to safety . We spent the next several days in a motel, but we were dry and safe, and that’s all that mattered. Several weeks later, I found our car outside of Marietta. It was full of mud, and the windows were all broken. I opened the trunk, thinking two of our suitcases may still be there, but all that remained were two indentations in the mud. It didn’t matter. Agnes did not stop us from enjoying 50 wonderful years of marriage, four children and nine grandchildren.
When Agnes hit Lancaster County in 1972, I was 12 years old. Our local fire company, like many others in the county, was pumping water out of basements for days. At the time, our fire company had a fire engine, named Betsy, that had a front-mounted pump on it. The firefighters drove it from Ronks to Marietta to help pump out basements. With the front-mounted pump, you could pull the truck right up to a basement door, throw the suction hose in the water and start pumping out a basement. Betsy was kept really busy !
As I watched the water coming up from the floor drains in the basement, all I thought about was my washer, dryer, furnace etc. There was nothing I could do to stop the rain, so I decided to not look in the basement for a while . The next time I checked, the water had risen to over a foot, and to my surprise, I got a good laugh. My friend had stored his duck decoys in my basement, and sure enough, two dozen duck decoys were floating around having a great time. Moral of the story: Laughter is the best medicine!
We were living on Mallard Avenue in Willow Street when Agnes came along and put about two inches of rain in our basement. Wife and I got brooms and brushed outside to a French drain, which was already saturated. My stress level was quite high.
Then the phone rang. It was our neighbor, Shirl, down the street, who said,
"Do you want to buy any water?"
I just burst out laughing, and the stress went away. It was nice to know that we were not in this alone.
The next day, my National Guard unit was activated ,and I reported to Lebanon for duty, which lasted about a week.
Patrick M. Reynolds, Willow Street
with all that food? By Thursday, the impact of Agnes was evident. For instance, our wedding cake could no longer be delivered. On Friday, my husband-to-be and I drove with great difficulty to Willow Street, picked up the cake in our own car, and very carefully drove back to New Holland. Saturday morning, the sun was shining, and our wedding went as planned.
At our small farm, south of Churchtown, the Conestoga ran through our meadow. The buildings were on higher ground. The six steers that were grazing in the meadow had free access to the barn. Then the hurricane came. By daylight June 22, the meadow was nearly covered. I wished the steers were in the barn, but they were on the far side of the river, huddled up against the fence. I quickly went to the far side of the fence, cut the wires and the six steers went through the opening, heading for higher ground and safety. All survived.
My husband and I were living on Route 772 in Talmage. The town is bounded north by the Conestoga River and south by Groff’s Run. In the morning, he went to Millersville University. There, he was told classes were canceled, so he drove back. But Groff’s Run was flooding the road, and cars were not permitted a cross . He returned to Leola, parked the car and hitchhiked back to Talmage. He swam across the creek. He said we had been married only a short time, and he didn’t want me to be alone and worried about him during such a serious storm.
On June 22,1972, Agnes dumped 8 inches of rain on us. My grandparents lived in Hinkletown , close to a stream and the Conestoga Creek along Route 322. They were moved to my uncle’s house. Then the family prepared for the flood by putting the freezer, washer and dryer on cement blocks. But the waters rose to 6 to 8 inches from the ceiling! After a couple of days, when the waters receded, family and the community cleaned up. People brought sandwiches, doughnuts and coffee. Mud was washed out of cupboards. The house was dried out with heaters and fans. The walls were painted and papered. New carpets were installed. Within one month, my grandparents back in their home again! Thanks to the Hinkletown community!
My parents lived across from the Mount Joy Legion, now the Lancaster Liederkranz, on Chiques Road [in Manheim]. One of our neighbors was Grace Steinmetz, a local artist and teacher. Her home was beautiful, filled with antiques and beautiful artwork. As her first floor started to flood, my parents and siblings helped move items from the first floor to the second floor. I was done helping, when a muskrat swam pass me.
We lived along the Conestoga River and had watched many floods - three, six, twelve feet over the bank from time to time. Agnes was different.
At the intersection of Pine Drive, Eden and Millport Roads in East Lampeter Township, we watched the flood plain vanish under the water, then the river rushed over the Eden Road bridge and kept rising. It was a mesmerizing sight. The water was relentless and slowly climbed up the sides of the white barn at that corner (still there, if you're interested) until it crested at the second-floor window. The high water mark was 28 feet above the riverbank , and a calculated water speed of 35 mph, if my memory is correct. Clean-up is another story.
Jane N. Eastman, Willow Street
I was a radioman in the Navy during Agnes, on a cruise in the Western Pacific, and monitoring the news on the teletype several times a day. The lead story during those few days was the rain and flooding in Lancaster County and elsewhere, and I'd think to myself how hard it must have been back home for my friends and family, and hoping everyone was toughing it out safely. They were but, unfortunately, others weren't.
On June 22, 1972, our family was living in a house by the Conestoga River, next to the Hunsicker Covered Bridge. My husband went to work early and realized he should try to return home because many roads were flooding. With the help of neighbors, we moved all our first-floor possessions to the second floor. By evening, the Pinetown Covered Bridge, our garage, the Hunsicker Bridge and several very large sycamore trees had washed away, and the water was up to the windowsills inside our home. Needless to say, we couldn't live in our house, so we moved to my sister and brother-in- law's farm on Willow Road and lived with their family for several months.
I was 15, and we lived west of Elizabethtown near the Lancaster/ Dauphin County line. The Conewago Creek is the dividing line between the two counties. With all the rain, we thought it might rise as high as the bridge over Route 230. We kids wanted to go check it out, but our mother was reluctant to let us. Finally, she gave in . The normally small, placid creek was almost to the top of the underside of the bridge. There were huge tree branches lodged up against the bridge, and the water was a raging, brown, churning torrent. I'd never seen anything so powerful. It was fascinating, and yet scary. Mom let us take a few pictures, and then we headed home. The water never came up onto the road, but we were excited and awed by what we saw all the same.
In the spring of 1970, I purchased a cabin along the Pequea Creek on Trolley Track Lane between the towns of Pequea and Colemanville . The elderly gentleman who sold it to me claimed, "The water never comes over the wall." He was referring to the cinder block wall between the cabin and the Pequea Creek.
At 5 in the morning [in June 1972], a neighbor knocked on my door and said, "The water is rising fast. Get your car out of here while you can." Gee, what should I take with me? I put my cage of classroom gerbils in the old Ford and the textbooks for the graduate courses at Millersville that I was taking. Because Trolley Track Lane dipped further up the road, my neighbor was correct. A few hours later, the road was impassable. My brother and my [now late] husband went back to the cabin the next day in a small boat. My brother recalled recently he remembers standing in the kitchen, and the refrigerator was floating. Water was over the top of the stove. Several days later, the water receded, and we started scrubbing and removing mattresses and other ruined furniture. Gallons and gallons of bleach were used. I owned the cabin until 1978, when the ice jam once again flooded the area, but that is a story for another day. Deborah Marko, Mount Joy
My parents, Earl & Doris Hufford, owned and operated East End Body Shop at 1400 E. King St. in Lancaster. The Conestoga Creek flooded their shop with mud, water and debris, with a flood level of 4 feet or so. The experience was devastating, but family, friends and church members helped in clean-up.
Janice Hufford Swisher, Kernersville, N.C.
I was in Lancaster at my grandparents’ house at 809 N. Queen St. The basement was flooded, with 4 feet of water. We started a “bucket brigade” with pails and kettles to bail the water out. We were getting nowhere. Later that night, the city firemen bailed every house on the block with fire hoses. I was 15 at the time.
Our basement started filling up with water coming in thru the French drains. We plugged them with rags to slow it down and when we would remove the rags the water came in like a geyser. We were trying to keep the water from going into the electrical outlets and it worked but we ended up with some cracks in the floor from the pressure of the of the rising water table. Finally the fire company got there to pump out the water. Everyone was not so lucky.
We were married about one and a half years. My wife was pregnant, living on a farm. It rained and rained. The small streams were high, but not as high as in a thunderstorm . We hitched our horse and carriage and drove to the Conestoga Creek. When we were going down Quarry Road, we were astonished at how high the creek was! We saw fish on the bridge next to Zook's Flour Mill! The water was flowing into the stone quarry, about 3 feet high. The next morning, it was even higher, and the quarry was not full. They started pumping the water out and estimated it would take them three or four days. The next morning, the water was higher yet. They brought in MUCH bigger pumps, and it took them maybe over a month to empty the quarry. We helped to clean the Glicks barn out and picked up fish and threw them back into the river. My wish is that the river would not rise that high again!
In 1972, I was a young salesperson of industrial machinery covering about a third of Pennsylvania, stretching from the Maryland line to the New York border. In June, I was in northern Pennsylvania overnight after making calls in the area. In the morning, while I was eating breakfast, the restaurant manager came around and advised everyone that if we were intending to travel south, we needed to leave immediately, as extensive flooding was expecting along the Susquehanna River. I quickly finished my breakfast, checked out of the hotel and started south on Routes 11 and 15 right along the river most of the way to Harrisburg. I had the radio on, listening to weather and shutdown reports. As I traveled south, I heard reports of virtually every town I passed through being shutdown just after I had gone through each, some within 15 minutes of my passing through. I could often see the river and the flooding along it, with floodwaters lapping at the edge of the highway. I eventually made it to Dauphin, crossed the river and proceeded along the eastern side of the river -- which is a little higher than the west -- and eventually made my way to Lancaster and on to my home at the time in the south of the county. It was one of the most harrying trips I ever had in my many years on the road, which fortunately I never had to repeat.
Our wedding was on June 24, 1972, in Gettysburg , at St. Francis Xavier Church. It almost didn’t happen, because Agnes prevented our soloist from coming down from Scranton and the tuxedos for the men were in Harrisburg, and we couldn’t get to our honeymoon because the roads were washed out. Some guests weren’t able to make it, because they were flooded out. We are now married for 50 great years.
I was living in Steelton during Agnes in 1972. My grandmother's house was flooded. She had 5 feet of water in her first floor. We turned off the heater so water would not damage it. We bought bottled water, because we knew the drinking water would not be good. My mom and dad stayed at the house, to prevent looting. My grandmother lost many items, including the grand piano that was her pride and joy. I do remember that many Amish people came to help clean up the mess. I appreciate their help to this day. Thanks!
Mrs. Guy Markle, Mount Joy
I was a newly graduated nurse in May 1 972. Come June, I was to report to Harrisburg to sit for my state board exams. Dutifully, despite the pouring rain, I got in my car to drive there. I got as far as Middletown on Route 230 and saw a VW “bug” sitting on the road submerged up to the roof. That did it … I turned around and carefully made my way back to Lancaster! All of us new nursing graduates had to wait until September that year to sit for our exams in the Zembo Shrine .
When the rain and flooding hit Lancaster County, I was on assignment In Marion, Indiana. The RCA Corp. had seen me and other engineers to assist with product development and support. My teammates were on the phone hourly with their spouses to check on the flooding of their homes and basements. Local fire companies were kindly pumping out basements. Unfortunately, they couldn't keep up with the number of homes being flooded, and the rapidity of the rising water. Management said we should return to Lancaster immediately to check on the safety of our homes and families. We caught the last plane to Lancaster Airport before it was closed due to flooding. My home sustained only 6 inches of water damage in the basement. Nothing like home sweet home when it's storming.
I worked at a bank in Birdsboro (Berks County), and when we saw the water coming up the street, we had to leave. I could not get home because 422 was flooded, so I managed to get to the home of another employee. When we finally were allowed to get back in the bank after the water receded, we saw the water had gotten into safety deposit boxes and the money in the vault. The money had to be laid out to dry, piece by piece, though it was unusable. Birdsboro suffered major damage from the flood.
I was scheduled to be married the weekend after hurricane Agnes hit, June 24, 1972 . We were going to have all of our wedding party photos taken in the backyard. Needless to say, that didn’t happen.
As the waters of the Conestoga were rising around our bi-level home on Robert Road in Lancaster (Eden Manor), my mother and I were standing at the back door. The water was over the bottom level of the door and started to come into the house. My mother yelled “Get some towels. The water is starting to come in.” As I grabbed some towels and laid them at the doorway, my mother and I looked at each other and realized that there weren’t going to be enough towels. A neighbor brought his boat and got our family out through the living room window. Later, when the floodwaters receded our family would sit and laugh about not having enough towels to stop Agnes. Ironically, my mother’s name was Agnes.
I got married three days later, and the wedding party drove through the neighborhood. To see all those neighbors with their scrub buckets, hoses, brooms, etc. washing all that mud off of the houses, lawns, sidewalks of the homes that had been flooded was just a great feeling. What a great community to grow up in. Thanks to all that may have been part of helping to make our losses a lot easier to cope with.
I was 22, just out of the Marines and lived on Reynolds Avenue in Lancaster. I worked at Wiley’s Shipyard, Port Deposit, Md., with my father and uncle. Traveling down Prince Street, that day I was going to travel over the Engleside "singing bridge," as we called it -- no road blocks , light was working. I stopped and watched the bridge be destroyed right in front of me and swept down the river like in a movie. It was crazy -- never saw anything like it ever before or after. Only person on that street that early morning was me, going to work. I missed seven days of work after that; Port Deposit was flooded, as was the shipyard. We saw a lot of damage. I shoveled river mud for six months after that! In the shipyard -- 12 feet deep water on the main street, boats littered the yard -- and snakes. I'm 72 now and will always remember that storm. I survived Hurricane Michael here where I live now, Panama City Beach, Fla.; a Category 5 saw more destruction, but I remember Agnes the most.
Jon Bruce, Panama City Beach, Florida
It was Thursday, June 22, 1972. I was on my way to work at Skyline Distributors on Pitney Road in Lancaster. Living in Pequea Township made it a little difficult to commute. My third try was Beaver Valley Pike to Route 741 into Bridgeport. That worked. There were just a handful of us. I noticed in the area I was working, there was water coming in and said something to the boss. He just told me not to worry about it. The water was getting deeper. Eventually the cops told us to get out of the building.
It was June of 1972 in Reedsville, Pa. We had had a lot of rain that June, so the creeks and rivers were full. Then Agnes hit. As the afternoon wore on, we saw the water rising 16 inches, and boats were being used under the town’s stop light. My husband decided to use the township truck to rescue nine people who lived beside Honey Creek. All nine people stayed in our house that night. They were so grateful for their rescue. We couldn’t imagine doing anything else. Later, we saw the unbelievable flood devastation in Lewistown.
The summer of Agnes , I was working as a long-distance telephone operator for Bell Telephone on the fifth floor in Wilkes-Barre, Luzerne County. I was 19 years old and excited to have my first real job. The supervisor called to say they needed any available operator on the switchboard to handle calls for the coming disaster. I went in. Many of us were working in the evening when the power failed and the switchboard went dark as the floodwaters flowed down Main Street. We had to remain in the building overnight until it was safe to evacuate in the morning. There were flashlights and emergency lighting, food was brought from somewhere , and later the toilets backed up. When it was dawn, rescue row boats came to our building. We walked down to the second floor, and I was lifted by a rescuer and placed in a boat. We floated up South Main Street in a boat! A taxi was there to take me home. I was very grateful.
Agnes ! I remember the oppressive humidity, constant torrential roof-pounding rain and wet, wet, wet. I was working construction at TMI, but contractor access to the island was closed due to high water and flooding. Our apartment complex lost electricity, and the National Guard was deployed to close roads and stop looting. To escape the area, I headed west to family in Pittsburgh via the Pennsylvania Turnpike with a hitchhiker I picked up at the toll booth as a travel companion. A normal four-hour drive took over eight hours, due to turnpike closures and detours through sections of Maryland.
We met Agnes in Ocracoke, N.C., on our yearly vacation with my extended family. My senses to this day can remember the churning Pamlico Sound, the angry, boiling sky, the sheets of horizontal rain and searing wind as we helped evacuate my aunt , uncle and cousins from their cottage overlooking the sound. My dad and uncle linked arms with my aunt as they clung to the step railing leading down from the stilts the cottage perched on, each one holding the hand or carrying one of my cousins, to make their way to the safety of our waiting car down the road. Waves were lapping over the roadway where two days before we were riding our bikes. Nine people rode out the storm in the little, two-bedroom shore cottage my parents rented in town. When we could get off the island, the drive home was somber especially as we neared our Landisville home. We passed many homes that experienced Agnes ’ wrath. When we reached our home, the sump pump that was a constant worry of my parents was doing its best to expel the water. The typically dry ditch by our home was a raging river with branches, boxes and other detritus floating about 3 feet from my dad’s barber shop door. On the beautiful sunny day when we could finally start the clean-up , I remember carting out all the stuff our basement housed that would be discarded. My Mom was grateful for our safety and that the living space of our house remained dry; however, I’ll remember her eyes as she looked at the family keepsakes that were ruined from the flood waters. I can remember her saying it is just “stuff” but in her eyes it was bits and pieces of tangible memories of her ancestors.
I have experienced many extreme weather events during my 79 years, but none had the negative connotations associated with my memories of Hurricane Agnes. Sixty-inch snowfalls provided opportunities for missing school, building snowmen and sledding. Tropical storms, while on vacation, brought happy visions of spectacular thunder and lightning shows, followed by brilliant rainbows and beautiful photos. Thoughts of Agnes only bring dread. I was working a 12-hour shift as dispatcher for Interstate Motor Freight, confronted with trucks and union drivers stranded in every direction on their way to or from their destinations. It was the longest day of my life.
Woody Gingrich, L ancaster Twp.
I was not living in Lancaster County when Agnes visited us. I was working and living in Lycoming County in a second-floor apartment. A small stream was behind us, which flowed into the Susquehanna. As the rain continued, that stream got so much bigger and crept up the bank closer and closer to and into the apartment building. When we left to go to a safe and dryer place, we walked out in knee-deep, ugly water. The water was up to my Dalmatian dog's chest, but she did not seem to mind. Upon returning days later, we found out the flooding had gutted the entire first floor of the brick building, stopping just short of the second floor. We were very lucky to be spared further disaster from the flooding.
My family had visited Disney’s Magic Kingdom for the very first time earlier that week. As we drove home from Florida, we camped, falling asleep to clear skies, then waking up to pouring rain. It’s 1972, no Internet. As we unlocked our house door, the telephone was ringing. It’s 1972, no voicemail, no answering machine. Bell Telephone was frantically trying to reach my dad to come to work -- now! At that moment, we realized we’d driven home in a hurricane. My dad immediately left for work and didn’t come home for three weeks. Telephone lines and utility poles needed to be reinstalled. Devastation was everywhere.
As an incoming freshman, I was so excited to attend summer orientation at what was then Millersville State College in June 1972. Sadly, Agnes arrived at the same time, and the only thing all my new friends and I did was dash from building to building, getting thoroughly soaked every time and never getting to appreciate the beautiful campus. Even worse, my father had to pick me up and what should have taken him an hour, took over 5 hours due to flooded roads.
As a resident assistant at Penn State, I remained in the dorms with fellow graduating seniors when Agnes arrived. I remember walking on a deserted Allen Street with sheets of unrelenting rain, the likes I had never experienced (nor have I since). Our graduation speaker, novelist James Michener, was helicoptered in as the roads surrounding Happy Valley were inaccessible, preventing my parents from attending. An elderly family friend from State College braved the conditions to represent the family at the ceremony held at Rec Hall. I have always appreciated that.
Fifty years ago, I had just graduated from high school and was enjoying my summer vacation at Stone Harbor when Agnes hit. Driving back to Lititz from the shore, my mom kept saying, "I think it is breaking up," but the rain continued. I wa s to start college at the main campus of Penn State. W hat should have been a two- hour drive to State College turned out to be over eight hours, and a day late for my college orientation to begin.
I was born in Kingston, Luzerne County . Our home was one mile from the Susquehanna River , where the levee broke during Agnes . My family was evacuated during the night, with only the clothes on our backs. The floodwaters were extremely devastating, covering the beds on the second floor. My parents returned to our home to face inches of thick mud covering everything inside and out and even a huge carp in our bathtub. Our temporary housing was a camper. It took months to empty, clean, repair and replace everything in our home to make it livable again.
My husband and I were living in Pomeroy, Chester County, in a rented house. It had a well. We got over 6 inches of water in the basement. I was worried about mold as the water receded, so I poured a bottle of Lysol into the flood water in the basement. Imagine my surprise when I turned on the tap in the kitchen, and the water smelled of Lysol. Unmistakable. Fortunately, my in-laws lived in Spring City, Chester County, and had city water, so we went there and stayed until the water went down.
Lyn R. Bailey, Lancaster Twp.
I was 15 years old when Agnes hit, and while it didn't affect me personally, it did affect my two aunts. Nada and Mavis lived with their families along the Conestoga at the time. I remember their frantic phone calls when the creek started to flood their homes. I had never seen a flood, so my dad took me along to help. By the time we arrived, the waters from the creek were filling both basements. We hurried to move furniture to the second floor of their homes. I watched large items like washers and dryers floating down the creek. It was astonishing to see how much damage the creek caused. My aunts lost precious scrapbooks and other family mementos . The floodwaters came up 6 feet in their homes, and when the water receded, the stench was unbearable, and the debris left in the home, not to mention the mud, was horrible to try to remove. My aunt Mavis, her husband and four girls had to come stay with us for several weeks while the clean-up took place. I'll never forget the devastation it caused all around Lancaster.
In Harrisburg, the relentless downpour caused me increasing concern, since our house sat opposite the Conodoguinet Creek in Camp Hill. Arriving home, blocked and flooded streets greeted me. By morning, our mailbox was submerged, boats were using our street, and our basement was flooded nearly to our first floor. Evacuated to a local hotel for three days and nights, on the ballroom floor, flooded roads kept us from my parents' house in Columbia. Worried that water would rise to our first floor, neighboring "campers" from Wormleysburg shared concerns about water reaching their second floor, offering perspective on our relative good fortune.
As a young wife whose husband was deployed in the U.S. Navy, I was staying with my parents near the Susquehanna River in a rural area [Elysburg, near Sunbury, in Northumberland County]. Our river was flooded by the raging water, and people could not get to their destinations. Knocks from stranded travelers kept coming to our door, and my mom and dad ended up with 32 people finding refuge in our home that night. Blankets and sleeping arrangements were made, and they were provided breakfast in the morning. That sweet gesture of hospitality and love for others helped to shape me into the women I am today.
Tracey Strohecker, Lancaster (who was living in Elysburg at the time)
I remember the bread bags. That's what we used to cover our shoes as we sloshed around the camp in the Poconos waiting to hear how we were going to get out of there. I was 15 years old; my high school cheerleading squad was at the Pine Forest Cheerleading Camp. It had started raining, and by mid-week the weather was cancelling our events and making things muddy. We would go to the food hall, where it was rumored that the camp was increasingly running short on supplies. This was in the day of no internet or cell phones, so all the information we were receiving was rumors from what we could pick up on our bedside radios. The camp wasn't encouraging phoning home, so our small squad, bunked up in a cabin we shared with a squad from Ohio, decided to sneak out of camp and walk to the nearest house to ask to use their phone. We were successful, contacting our parents and learned about the seriousness of the flooding of the Susquehanna River and connecting creeks near my home outside of Bloomsburg. It was then we learned of the drowning of a local teen while he was assisting with evacuation efforts at Knoebel's Amusement Park. He was a member of our high school, and his brother was dating our captain at the time. We were learning just how perilous this storm had become. The camp leaders enacted evacuation plans, and it was the first time I witnessed the landing, loading and take off of Army helicopters, as various squads from all parts of the northeast were lifted away from camp. The imminent danger was the possible dam breaching from a nearby lake, and the decreasing of supplies. Unbeknownst to us, my father, brother and another parent planned our rescue in a pickup truck which normally would've taken under two hours from my hometown , but with swollen creeks, detours, etc. took them several hours to arrive. What they didn't know was that somehow, the camp leaders were able to load up the remaining squads on school buses and had driven south as close as to home as we could. The captain's mother lived the closest to our drop-off spot and picked us up. I was picked up by my mother. My father and brother returned home later that afternoon relieved to find us all safe and back home.
I was 19 years old and lived in Royersford; the Schuylkill River ran between Royersford and Spring City. The factories along First Avenue were under up to the second floor; the clean-up lasted most of the summer. I remember the car wash in Spring City near the river -- all you could see was the roof. The grocery store also had several feet of water in the store. The worst part of the clean-up was some oil from ponds up river also overflowed, so everything downstream had a coating of some oil on them, My wife and I moved to Lancaster in 2016.
I was 16. The thing I remember most were the dramatic news reports. One in particular described details about the cemetery in a small town near Wilkes-Barre called Forty Fort. A levee break exhumed over a thousand coffins. Freewheeling vessels bobbed up and down the rapids through the streets. Casket lids flew open, and bodies bounced out, some left on roofs and front porches of homes.
The other memory I have was of the theatrical politician who led the rebuilding effort. This Pennsylvania congressman with the amusing Salvador Dali looking moustache was named … Daniel Flood.
Rich Stewart, "Homebrew Stew," Lancaster
Several of us were headed to Penn State Summer Session; we convened at Rosemary’s home in Columbia. Guiding us as we planned the rest of the route, her dad suggested we call the guy who was giving road reports on the radio. I was elected as the speaker. “Hello, you’re on the air!” was the immediate and unexpected response to our dial-up. (Did you know that stifled laughter sounds remarkably like stifled sobs?) My friends rolling on the floor, I sputtered uncontrollably while asking whether 322 was passable all the way to State College. When I finally hung up, radio-man sympathized, “Oh my, I hope everything will be okay for her.” (With no disrespect to those who did suffer at this time .)
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When: Manor Township supervisors meeting, July 5.
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