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Flood Survivors

THE FLOOD AS EXPERIENCED by ELLA STRINGFELLOW

August 27, 1908 was the date of the Great Folsom Flood and on that particular day my parents, Dan and Kate Harvey, had overnight guests, which was not an unusual custom in the horse and buggy days. The guests were the McMinamin family and had consisted of the parents: John and Myrtle and a baby girl. I was seven years old at the time. The baby, who was ill, cried off and on all night, much to my distress. My mother looked out of the window and saw our horses trying to get into the area we called the horse pasture. Almost instantly, they disappeared. We later learned that they had been swept down stream some 6 or 7 miles by the swift tide of flood water. They all survived with the exception of one small colt which drowned.

After the flood waters subsided, the body of Irvin Cox's mother was found on Dad's dam, and his sister's body was on the horse trail in the horse pasture. It was close to this area that my Dad found the body of Sally Rooke several months after the flood and when he was burning debris on what we called the "corn patch." My Dad, Bud Sumpter, and Sam David also found the body of Mr. Dan Wenger buried in a sand bar with only his hand visible. My Dad often told of the sun reflecting from a Masonic ring on his finger.

THE FLOOD AS EXPERIENCED by ALCUTT McNAGHTEN

In the spring of 1907, I was sent to Folsom to work the second shift (telegrapher on the railroad). Mother came to keep house for me. We lived in the old stone house east of town (east of the Doherty store), which mother had purchased some time previous. The following year on August 27, 1908 Folsom was inundated by the worst flood in its history. I think there were about 250 people living there at the time, and 17 of them lost their lives in the flood. As near as I can remember, this is an account of the flood.

My hours were from 3:00 p.m. to midnight. At around 10:30 or 11:00 p.m., I had cleaned up my work and was just waiting for my relief. I noticed that the telephone repeatedly jingled one ring. As our ring was two rings, I initially paid no attention. After the ringing persisted for some time, I decided to answer, thinking that someone needed assistance. The person on the line was Sally Rooke, the elderly telephone operator. She was in a very excited state. She did, however, manage to tell me that there was "an awful flood coming down the river" and to get out and notify everyone we could.

I tore out at once to tell anyone I could. My intentions were to go to our house and notify Mother first. When I got to the Doherty store I encountered Bob Penniwell, manager of Wenger's Store, who was on the same mission. I told Bob, "You go down one side of the street and I'll go down the other." The plan was to notify people, then come back to the wagon yard, hitch a team to a wagon and take people to higher ground. The school being our intended goal.

I notified Mother and told her that I would be back with a wagon to take her out. When we got back from notifying people, it was too late. The flood was too close. We didn't get any wagon out. I went back to the depot. My relief was there and I told him that I was going back to my home. The night was pitch black. The only way one could see was by the lightning flashes. I took a lantern and started toward home. It was raining hard. About half way to the house I slipped and fell. The water, which was running rather deep, put my lantern out. I decided to return to the depot because I knew the way back in the dark. As I returned to the depot, I could see a few lights burning here and there. When I arrived at the depot, I heard the flood coming. By the lightning flashes I could see the wall of water. It looked like it was about four feet high. By this time travel was impossible.

The Rope family who lived across the street from the old Folsom Hotel (the rock hotel not the wood hotel), came to the depot for safe refuge. Together we could only watch and hope. My concern was whether our house would stand the raging waters. As we watched, we saw a building near the end of the Folsom Hotel disintegrate like an egg crate. The water maintained the four foot wall for about 20 minutes or so and then rose higher. That rise brought the water just barely into the depot. It maintained this level until about 3:00 a.m., and then began to recede.

We tried to get over into town several times, but the depth of the water kept us out. Finally after sunup, we went up and around the church and then down Main Street. There was still quite a bit of water running in the street. The scene that greeted us was one of devastation; Sally Rooke's house was down in front of Doherty's Store on its side with the front completely gone. The saloon building had washed into our house, its patrons were safely perched in the attic.

Fry Wilson was in a building one door removed from the telephone office. Old Frye felt the house going so he jerked the doors open (allowing the water to flow through the building). The house settled and only moved slightly. John Young and his son were in a house that was nailed to a fence post. They said that the house moved all night but it never broke loose from that post.

When my mother saw the water begin to come up, she and a woman who was working for her got up on a table. When the water got a little higher the situation became uncomfortable, so they got on top of the piano. There they remained until the flood was over. There was about 2 inches of mud in the house, and evidence that the water reached the depth of three and a half feet in the house.

There were 17 peope killed in the flood. Nine members of the Wheeler family died. Mr. and Mrs. Dan B. Wenger and their daughter, Daisy, were lost, plus Lucy Creighton, who kept books for Wenger's store. The Wenger house and its four occupants was seen with the lights still burning floating down Grand Avenue and the screams of the occupants for help could be heard above the roar of the waters. About two miles below town the flood waters created a whirlpool which caught the Wenger house and spun it around and around until it hit the river bank. After the flood, the largest piee of the house that could be found was half of a door. The Wengers were interred at the Masonic Cemetery, Trinidad, Colorado.

Antonio Salas' concern for his livestock (and his favorite horse), cost him his life. He went to the corral to see about the stock, and the oncoming flood caught him before he could return to the house. He lived west of the railroad bridge, one mile, west of town. Demetrio Guerin and his wife, living near the pump house, were swept away by the current. (Father Dumarest interred Antonio Salas and the Guerins at the Catholic Cemetery).

Bodies were found iles down river as far as the John's Ranch. We saddled horses and rode down the river. The first thing that we encountered was a group of people on the northside of the river about a mile from town. They had discovered some of the Wheeler bodies. My saddle, which washed away, was also there. A little further on up the rocks, on the northside where it begins to form a short canyon, was Antonio Salas lying on a flat rock as though he were asleep. The next recovery was rs. Wenger and a girl from the Wheelers. We only went as far as the John's Ranch and returned to town. All the bodies were recovered except Mrs. Rooke. Her body wasn't recovered until the following spring, when it was discovered by Dan Harvey as he was burning a windrow of driftwood. He found a shoe and upon further examination discovered it to be the body of the heroine of the flood. Having no family, the Masonic Lodge arranged the funeral service for Sally, an Eastern Star Member.

The flood of August 27, 1908 was caused by a cloudburst on the Trinchera Pass. Part of the water went Trinchera way and part Folsom way. If by chance all of the water had gone either way, it would have completely wiped out the town.

The Owens Ranch was where the alarm was first sounded. The Owens were some of the first settlers in this part of the country and had seen many floods go down the river. They told Sally Rooke that this was one of the worst that they had ever seen. It was the worst that anyone had seen.

The river path through town prior to the flood of 1908 meandered.Later a straight channel was dug and it carries water quite nicely to this day.

A NARROW ESCAPE for TOM HONEY

Tom Honey was out with Sheriff Tabor and got into Folsom late. It looked like a bad storm was coming up. Dan Wenger asked him to stay the night with them. Tom thanked him and said he had better get home. His horse made it home in fifteen minutes without striking up a gallop.

Tom got home just before the flood. He told Mrs. Honey to call Folsom and tell them to go to higher ground. It was too late; the storm had already broken the telephone lines. Tom went to Folsom the next day because he knew there was trouble. Mr. Wenger and family and many others were washed away. Tom spent days helping to find the bodies.