A Greenstreet News Co. Publication Until Friday, June 23, an evacuation was something that happened to other people in other places. People who were left homeless by natural disasters lived in far-off lands, and their plight, however heartrending, had little real immediacy. How ugghelievable it was, then, to hear General ¥rank Townend, director of Civil Defense in Luzerne County, ordering the eva- cuation of Wilkes-Barre, Kingston and other areas on the West Side over a radio broadcast crackling with static shortly before noon Fri- day afternoon, The order to evacuate ended a heroic effort by nearly 10,000 men and women who had labored for hours along the river banks filling sand bags, pillow cases, plastic bags—any- thing that would hold sand—in an effort to hold back the increasingly menacing Susque- hanna. Gen. Townend, who is a man not given to making extravagant statements, paused at a briefing of Back Mountain Civil Defense offi- cials Sunday afternoon to call the effort ‘great, just great.” It was that, and it is probable that no amount of sandbagging along the river’s banks could have staunched the 40.6 foot crest of flood waters which came tumbling over the dikes. y Residen®¥in the communities which were ordered evacuated were incredulous. Many recalled that the flood waters in 1936 and 1940 had come nowhere near their homes; surely they would be safe this time, too. Perhaps they tookecomfort from a statement made in 1936 by tt™®urgess of Forty Fort; who had in- sisted that “Forty Fort need not bother, be- cause of its location, to prepare for floods...” It was cold comfort, indeed. People who had been reluctant to leave their homes because it “certainly won’t come up this high” found © themselves clambering out of second story windows into boats which brought them to dry land and to buses waiting to transport them to emergency shelters. Still others refused to leave at all. This re- porter talked with the owner of a boat in Ed- wardsville Friday afternoon after he’d pulled his craft ‘‘ashore’’ on Russell Street. He had, he said, ‘‘rescued everybody in the block who'd wanted to be rescued’ and told of people waving him away, shouting out that they’d ‘‘ride it out upstairs.” Gen. Townend made a grave prediction about some of these foolhardy souls: “When we go back in,” he told the C.D. workers at Dallas, ‘“‘we’re going to find some bodies in the houses—it’s gruesome, but we must ex- peet it.” < ‘ Fortuny, most people heeded the warn- ing and found their way to higher ground before boat or helicopter rescues became necessary. Traffic across the two main access bridges to Wilkes-Barre and points south was abruptly halted, and a portion of the North Street Bridge washed out. (The remarkable thing wasgpt that the bridge washed out, but that it diS¥’t wash out much sooner. The bridge had been in a state of disrepair for years, and there are many motorists who re- fused to cross its swaying span long before the flood put an end to it). Because there was virtually no way to cross the river, many persons in Wilkes-Barre and surrounding communities fled to the Moun- taintop vicinity while West Side residents sought refuge in the Back Mountain commu- nity. Families were separated with heart- wrenching frequency, and radio announce- ments beseeching information of the where- abouts of friends and relatives were broad- cast as long as the regular radio stations operated. With amazing speed, evacuation centers were established in this Back Mountain com- munity. Friday afternoon, nearly 2,000 evacueessad found shelter and clothing at the West Side Area Vocational-Technical School in Pringle, and Chase resident Beatrice Ray was overseeing the preparation of dinner—the third meal served there that hectic first day—for all of the evacuees and flood relief workers. Mrs. Ray was lavish in her praise of her cafeteria workers, pausing frequently to put an arm around the shoulders of several of her former students who had volunteered to help out. ‘Everyone has cooperated just mar- velously,”” Mrs. Ray remarked. ‘‘You just wouldn’t believe how smoothly things have been running.” But the Vo-Tech School facilities were soon being over-taxed, and in short order evacua- tion centers were set up at Dallas and Lake- Lehman High Schools. Late Friday night, six of Francis Stolarick’s school buses were sent down to Pringle to fetch as many evacuees as possible for lodging in the Lake-Lehman High School. It must be human nature for a person to be reluctant to sacrifice security for the un- known: the buses returned to the high school with only two persons—no one else had want- ed to leave! By Saturday afternoon, however, Lake- Lehman was brimming with 200 guests, and the ubiquitous cots and blankets and sleeping bags lined all hallways and filled the school’s gymnasium. Established with remarkable dispatch by Anthony Marchakitus, high school principal, the evacuation center soon bustled with an efficient routine: pets were housed in a makeshift kennel fashioned from abandoned file cabinets by Byron Race; the wrestling room was promptly dubbed the “Baby Room’ and offered Pampers, baby lotion and powder; a first aid station under the direction of Judith Dawe was soon dis- pensing insulin to diabetic patients, blood pressure pills to a flood victim who had left his own supply at home, and loads of T.L.C. to people whose experiences had left them jit- tery. The scene at the Dallas Senior High School was much the same; The cots linedhead to toe throughout the school’s corridors, the throngs of people seeking word of relatives they had heard via the grapevine might be housed at Dallas, the Herculean efforts of cafeteria workers to prepare appetizing and adequate meals for the 900 persons lodged there. At Dallas High School, too, the clerical workers did a yeoman’s job in coordinating and organizing information for the Civil Defense workers headquartered at Dallas. They prepared lists, typed out minutes of emergency meetings, formulated C.D. requi- sition sheets—and did it in record time. There were nine main evacuation centers scattered throughout the Back Mountain, with over 20 spin-off centers operating under these nine. THE DALLAS POST, JUNE 29, 1972 The evacuation centers tell only part of the story, however. They do not tell of the thousands of people who sought and found shelter with private families—whether friends, relatives, friends of friends or, in many cases, complete strangers. The streets of every Back Mountain com- munity gave mute evidence of this influx—ve- hicles of every description even the huge parking lots at shopping centers. Sleeping bags, pillows and blankets were shuffled throughout neighborhoods, and neighbors were startled to hear strange voices answering the telephones at the homes of close friends. The lines at check-out stations in food mar- kets curled up and down the stores’ aisles for two days following the flood, and impulse buying became a way of life. Supplies of bread, milk and eggs were sold out as soon as they were received, and shoppers loaded their baskets with all manner of goods “just in case.” : : By Sunday, a food and clothing distribution center had been established at the Dallas Junior High School, and any flood victim—not only those staying at evacuation centers—be- came eligible for such aid. The distribution center has proved a boon to persons who have begun to feel the pinch of hosting an extended The predominant mood has not, incredibly, been one of sorrow. Complacency, yes; re- signed acceptance, yes—but not sorrow. As word began to filter back of the fantastic damage done to homes and belongings in the flooded areas, people everywhere seemed to shrug and straighten their sholders. There was work to be done, surely, but there had been few losses which could not be replaced. The rain stopped at long last Sunday after- noon at 3 p.m.—and the sun came out! Streets blossomed with children playing ball and skipping rope and a certain fleeting exuber- ance could be felt among evacuees and hosts alike. It would rain again later that night— and again Monday —but somehow there was a measure of hope to be found in the incandes- cent sunshine. : Page 15 Evacuated family prays together at Dallas Senior High School center. Photo by James Kozemchak Children take turns feeding infant at Dallas Senior High School. With cramped quarters and families separated in some cases, mothers needed all the help they could get. Photo by James Kozemchak STR Photo by James Kozemcha Volunteers prepare cots and bedding for sleeping quarters at Dallas High.
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