The St Francis Dam Disaster
Rowan Davies

 

‘I envy the dead.’ – William Mullholland – St Francis Dam Chief Engineer



      Just before midnight on March 12th 1918 the Californian St Francis Dam failed, in magnificent style. With very little warning the two-hundred foot high wall of concrete and steel burst into the San Francisquito Canyon that it had towered over since 1916. Due to a landslide on the western side of the dam it was that particular part that was the first to be destroyed. The force and flow of the water then caused a whirlpool to form inside the reservoir that ripped the eastern side completely from its base. Then there remained only a towering monolith of human construction dead in the centre of the valley that creaked and tilted as 12½ billion gallons of water tumbled ferociously past either side of it. It was a disaster, it was fantastic. The water was taking revenge on a race that had restricted its flow into the Pacific Ocean for over two years. For the people living in the communities along the 54 mile stretch of the Santa Clara River Valley it was the great apocalypse. For the rest of the world that heard news of the disaster and pitied the survivors more than the dead, it was the greatest American civil engineering failure of the Twentieth Century.



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      This is Annie’s story. Annie Milligan of Fillmore who awoke from the strange dream she was having to the strange smell that was wafting all about her room. A smell that she thought at first was part of her dream. It had the same air of dankness to it; a similar feeling of suffocation and unpleasantness. As she lay there, misty eyed and considering the dreaminess of the moment, reality struck her ears. All her senses mingled and flooded into her head at once. The dog’s sudden barking and scratching at the bedroom door caused both her and her husband to bolt upright in their bed.

      ‘Ernie, what in the hell is going on? What’s got Sam so scared?’ Ernest was already throwing the blanket aside and heading towards the door. Annie remained rigid in her position. The unfamiliarity of the situation terrified her.

      As soon as Ernest opened the door, the dog ran in like a shot. It dashed about the room in a frenzy, going from wall to wall, barking and growling simultaneously.

      ‘Ernest, what the −’

      ‘Shhhh…’ He quickly crouched to the floor and caught the dog as it ran past him, holding its jaws closed with both hands.
 
      Apart from a few small murmurs that escaped the dog’s throat there was nothing. But then they both heard it at the same time. The rumbling. A distant growl that couldn’t have been made by any man or beast. It was coming from the east side of the house; the direction in which Annie was facing. She stared into the wall as her heart sank in her chest and she saw in her mind the unstoppable, galloping mass of water that was coming to destroy her home and the lives of her family.

      ‘The dam.’ she whispered, and then fear really froze her. Ernest picked the dog up and shoved it through the doorway. As it started barking again he ran towards Annie and pulled her from the bed and onto her feet.

      ‘We’ve got to get out of here,’ he said as he dragged her towards the open door. ‘Now.

      The children were already standing in the hallway when they got there. Frankie’s bawling was drowned out by the dog, but the tears that poured down his contorted, red face illustrated his distress. As soon as he saw his mother he ran at her and clasped his hands around her waist. Ernest let go of Annie and went to Elizabeth.

      ‘Mommy, I’m scared. I don’t want to die.’ he said through gasps ‘Please, mommy.’

      Annie’s will to keep her family safe instantly overtook her fear and she found one of Frankie’s hands and held it tight. Ernest was already carrying Elizabeth in his arms as they all rushed down the hall to the front door.

      Outside the house, the night was icy cold. The power was out and the entire town had fallen into darkness. All around her, Annie could hear neighbours calling out to each other in panic. She even heard her own name mentioned though she couldn’t make out who it was.

      ‘I’m going to get the Milligans out.’ and there was another shout in hurried acknowledgement.

      ‘Come on,’ said Ernest. ‘We have to make it up the hill or we’ll be drowned.’ and they started running as fast as they could, little Frankie stumbling along at his mother’s pace, still gasping through sobs.

      As they ran, Annie could see the outline of the hill silhouetted against the night sky and it was with great relief that she began to feel the land slope upwards beneath her feet. They were climbing now; climbing to safety. She tried hard to concentrate on the rumbling in the background, but all she could hear, above her son’s despair, was her own pulse beating in her ears. By now she was almost lifting Frankie of the ground and running with him, hanging there. Ernest was only just up ahead, Elizabeth nuzzled tightly against his chest, arms around him. He checked back over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure the others hadn’t fallen too far behind.

      To her left, Annie could see the furious activity on the hillside. People were still yelling to each other as they scrambled to the heights, some in their night clothes and some wearing nothing at all.

      ‘We’re nearly there! Keep going!’ she yelled between breaths.

      Two hundred yards more running and they allowed themselves to slow down to a weary amble. And, just as exhaustion had hit them, so did the waves hit the town below. Less than fifteen minutes had passed since their awaking and now they were standing far enough away from harm. To the east, Annie watched in horror as enormous, thrashing waves of black water ploughed their way down the valley. A few small houses on the outskirts of town were hit first, most of them lifting up and breaking apart with the force of the flood.

      Almost twenty more buildings were destroyed before it arrived at their own house and, as it did, Annie glanced towards the hill they had climbed. Cast a dark blue shade in the moonlight, the people that were still clambering up it were little black shadows of life. Then the terrifying inevitability hit her and she shrieked, falling to her knees as she watched. The unlucky ones, probably some friends and some neighbours, were being caught by the water as it lapped up the sides of the valley. Many were grabbing at branches and clumps of earth to keep themselves from being swept away. Others, lower down the hill, were unable to do anything. Annie saw one man at the bottom of the hill stand to accept his fate. Her gaze was fixed as he was thrown along in the torrent of debris and then disappeared from sight. She closed her eyes and tried to block the screams of the helpless from her mind as the commotion subsided slightly.

      Annie felt her children at her sides now, clutching each arm as they sobbed and whispered prayers under their breaths. Ernest was standing just behind them and she could hear him choking back tears as her mind began to clear.

      When she did finally open her eyes, she was stunned to find her own house floating, bouncing between the trees that stood around it. It was the only one she could see that wasn’t being carried downstream. She watched it in a trance until she heard a panicked voice calling from along the hill. It was Marjorie, their neighbour, panting as she raced towards them in her nightgown. Ernest hurried to help her from falling down.

      ‘Annie, Ernie, have you seen John? He went to get you from your house.’

      Annie remembered the voices she had heard after leaving the house.

      ‘No, Marjorie. We ran for our lives as soon as we heard the rumbling. We never saw him.’

      ‘Oh, God.’ She was doubled over, regaining her breath as Ernest held her up and tried to rub some warmth back into her. Annie had forgotten how cold it was on the hill top. She could see the icy water now coursing steadily through the valley.

      ‘I’m gonna go down to the edge and see if I can see him.’ said Ernest. ‘He could be in the house. It’s still in one piece.’

      ‘Ernie, you can’t. There’s no point. You’ll be killed if the water gets you.’

      Then there was a shot, the unmistakable sound of a gun, and it came from the direction of the house. Again, and again, more shots were fired. Part of the roof was being blown through each time. They turned their heads in time to see a dog being passed through the gap that had formed.

      ‘Jesus, it’s Sam.’ said Ernest. ‘What in God’s name−’

      Marjorie was already on her way back down the slope.

      ‘Oh, John. It has to be John!’

      Ernest tailed after her as Annie looked on in amazement. She remained speechless as the figure of a man appeared through the roof of the bobbing house. It was John and when Marjorie reached the edge of the bank she waved and called to him to keep still and low.

      ‘Just hold tight,’ shouted Earnest. ‘We’ve got to wait out the worst of it, and then we can come and get you.’
      John looked exhausted and soaked to the bone, but he signalled to show he understood them. Then he sat down and rubbed his eyes, the dog spraying water with its tail as it nudged into him with its nose.

      Annie, on top of the hill looked over the space that had been Fillmore and was now a swirling abyss of black. Her entire life had been washed away within a few minutes and the overwhelming disbelief that followed had crippled her mind and clouded her vision. People always used to joke about the dam breaking, but they couldn’t have possibly conceived the reality of it.

      She stood up from the children and rubbed her eyes like John had, but it made no difference.



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      Around five hundred people were dead by the time the waters finally reached the Pacific Ocean; five and a half hours after the dam had initially given way and three hours after it hit Fillmore. There water finally met with water and the flood slowed and ebbed away. In its wake was left a trail of death and destruction; bodies and wreckage buried and strewn across a valley floor 54 miles in length. 1,200 homes were lost and 10 bridges demolished as damage claims were estimated at $4.8 million. In terms of lives lost it was the second largest Californian disaster in history, falling just behind the San Francisco Earthquake and Fire of 1906.

      The dam’s creator, William Mullholland was prepared to take full blame for the tragedy but none was given. His reputation as a master engineer, however, was in tatters and he died seven years later in isolation from the world. The fault, it seemed, lay in the dam’s foundation itself. The Great St Francis had been constructed on an ancient landslide, an unstable rock formation, something that could not have been foreseen with early 20th century technology. It was a case of humankind not being prepared for what nature had to throw at them. It was a lesson that will never be learnt.


      
      
      

 

 

Copyright © 2003 Rowan Davies
Published on the World Wide Web by "www.storymania.com"