The incredible story behind one of the most devastating disasters America has ever known

I’m not a gamer, but I can understand the addiction some people have to gaming, because it’s pretty much the same for me with books. I had no reason to read this book right now at this stage of my life. I’ve never visited Johnstown, PA, and I have no plans ever to get up that way, yet for some reason this book jumped out at me this past week.

Likely, it’s because I love not only turn-of-the-century history but also David McCullough. Of his books, I’ve only read Mornings on Horseback and The Wright Brothers thus far, yet I’ve got plans to read both John Adans and The Path Between the Seas in the coming…unknown time period. That’s part of the addiction, you know, the planning and strategizing and (if nothing else) plain thinking about books.

This first-published-book by a youngish David McCullough set him apart as a researcher and engaging historian. While the first portion of the book might appear slow, it skillfully sets the stage for all that follows and is an expertly written series of snapshots displaying Johnstown and the surrounding bergs, valley, and upland reservoir before the great calamity that ripped them all to the ground.

It’s springtime, 1889. The rains have been heavy in the Allegheny Mountains, and already people in Johnstown are finding it difficult to wade across the streets, what for all the flood waters rising from the rivers. No one throughout the valley, though, can anticipate the devastation that awaits their booming town.

Up the valley sits a parcel of land upon which lies an earth-dam holding back the millions of gallons of water that make up Lake Conemaugh. Although the wealthy men (including Carnegie himself) who own the land and use it as headquarters for their sportsman’s club have noted the dam’s age and weak integrity, they’ve brought out a few “experts” who have assured them that there’s not much that needs being done to it. Sure, they recommend that they build a run-off system to alleviate some of the pressure, or raise the center of the dam a few feet, so that the water is naturally pushed to the sides. But these recommendations are shelved for a future date, leaving everything just fine and dandy.

Everything is dandy until about 3:00 on the afternoon of May 31 when the dam, already overflowing in the center, finally breaks. The entire lake empties through the hole in less than an hour, bursting through the valley and destroying virtually everything in its path, sweeping over 2,000 people into eternity.

The flood itself occurs in stages, the debris slowing and sometimes even blocking its rush towards Johnstown, and McCullough does well to pace himself as he paints the scene for his readers. His description of the experiences that the survivors and victims endured—from the survivors’ own words—almost make it feel like we’re right there with them, or at least like we’re watching it on screen, as one town after another gets swept away into oblivion.

While the flood itself is the main event of this book, it’s not the only one. Apart from the setting and lead-up to the deluge are also the silence following the two hours of horror, fires and screams, the cleanup and smells, the press’s arrival on the scene, and the nation’s reaction to the news. So too are the cleanup, the recovery of bodies and of minds, the slow rebuild, and even the legal fallout years later.

This is one of those books that you might have to be in the mood for, but I can’t imagine anyone ever getting in the mood for sitting back to an evening of environmental disaster. So instead of waiting to get in the mood for a book like this, I recommend you just go for it. It may not be as inspiring a read as The Wright Brothers or as manly as Mornings on Horseback, but it’s a soberly exciting book nonetheless.

The Johnstown Flood will not only remind you that life is short and that it’s safe to consider what happens after death, but it will also make you double-check your living situation and what might be sitting up in those hills behind your neighborhood. That’s what it did for me, at least.

©2022 E.T.