Johnstown Flood | Fire on the Water | 4
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Victor Heiser hangs off the edge of a roof, dangling over the floodwaters raging below. His bare feet scramble against the roof's shingles as he tries in vain to gain a foothold. Victor glances down. If he falls, he'll plummet into the water ten feet below. He imagines himself swept away like so many others on this awful day, including his own mother and father.

16-year-old Victor watched helplessly from the roof of his family's barn as his home was crushed by debris and floodwaters, with his parents still inside. He has no idea if they're alive or dead, but he fears the worst. He kicks again at the shingles, but they're wet and loose. One breaks away and flutters into the water below.

It's late afternoon on May 31st, 1889 in Johnstown, Pennsylvania. Not long ago, the whole town was inundated by a catastrophic flood. Victor floated here on a piece of tin roof from his family's barn, then was forced to leap onto the shingled roof of this house when his makeshift raft collided with it. But moments later, the whole house crumbled and collapsed beneath him.

As the roof tilted up vertically, he managed to snag the top edge. But he's not sure how much longer he can hang on. He can feel his arm starting to cramp, sending spasms of pain down to his shoulders. And now, the edge of the roof is beginning to crumble beneath his fingers.

Below him, floating debris keeps slamming against what's left of the house. Barrels of dry goods and fragments of other buildings send up showers of glass and splinters as they collide below him. It's like being trapped inside an ongoing explosion. Finally, his right hand slips, and soon after that, his left.

Now he's falling, groping at empty air. He braces for the splash into the cold, muddy water below. But instead of hitting the water, he lands on something with a clang. The impact knocks the wind out of him, and he ends up sprawled out on his back. He looks around. Somehow, he's landed back on the detached tin roof of his family barn.

He starts laughing, nearly delirious with relief. Victor takes this moment to look around him. The barn roof is lodged against the ruined house, with brown churning water rushing around either side of it. The pouring rain makes it hard to see far, but here and there, he can spot a few lone buildings standing up like distant islands, surrounded by dirty, debris-filled water.

He feels the tin roof shift under his feet. Something has knocked it loose. And in seconds, it's swept back into the rushing current. He can barely keep his balance. Victor looks around wildly for another building to leap onto, but sees nothing but water. This catastrophic flood has already killed so many, and he's terrified that he may be the next to die.

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In May 1889, the South Fork Dam in western Pennsylvania failed, unleashing 20 million tons of water from the adjoining lake. The floodwaters surged down the river valley and slammed into Johnstown, Pennsylvania. The violent onslaught of water and debris destroyed over a thousand homes, killed hundreds of people, and left thousands of others fighting for their lives.

After the flood, many people were left trapped under fallen debris. And just when it seemed like things couldn't get any worse, several oil slicks from leaking industrial equipment caught fire, igniting a deadly inferno. This is Episode 4: Fire on the Water. Victor Heiser lies spread-eagle on his stomach as his makeshift raft hurtles along in the floodwaters.

He thinks he's making his way through downtown Johnstown, but it's hard to tell. He feels completely disoriented. So little of his hometown remains, just a few familiar buildings still standing, their upper stories and roofs poking out of the water.

All sense of time has disappeared too. He has no idea how long it's been since the flood hit. An hour? Has the sun set yet? He can't tell, not with the dark rain clouds masking the sky. He sees a brick building up ahead. There's a cluster of survivors gathered on its flat rooftop, a few feet above the waterline. And his floating tin roof is heading right for them.

He looks past the building. Beyond it, through the driving rain, he sees nothing but water and debris. If he lets the current keep carrying him, who knows how much longer he'll be adrift. This could be his last chance for refuge. As his raft approaches the brick building, one of the other survivors sees him and steps to the edge of the roof. "Here, grab my hand!" Victor takes the man's outstretched arm, then hops onto the roof.

After all the chaos he endured earlier, he's amazed at how easy it feels, like jumping off a slow-moving train. He stands there panting and watches his makeshift raft float away. It saved his life twice. He wonders if he'll see it again. A moment later, a church bell rings the half-hour.

Victor pulls out his pocket watch and wipes the water off its face. The second hand is still ticking, and he's shocked to see that it's only 4:30. Has it really only been 20 minutes since the flood hit? It doesn't seem possible. Victor surveys the destruction all around him, and he can hardly believe it.

He's lived in Johnstown his whole life, 16 years, but some people have been here for 80 years or longer. And in just 20 minutes, almost every bit of the town and the lives they knew here have been obliterated. Horace Rose awakes to a sting of pain, like someone stabbing his collarbone. He tries to move, but each limb feels thick and heavy.

He opens his eyes. The sky overhead is dark and gloomy. He's floating on some kind of hard platform in the middle of… is it a lake? Then he remembers the flood and the rafters crashing down on him, as well as his daughter and wife sinking below the water. What happened to them? His 14-year-old son Percy disappeared as well. Half his family. Dead.

The anguish makes him cry out. "June, Margaret, Percy..." "Horace, what's the matter? Dad? Hey Dad, I'm right here!" "Dad's waking up!" In his delirium, they seem to answer him. Their voices make the pain even more acute. "Horace, what's the matter? What do you need?" Suddenly, his wife's voice breaks through the fog.

He turns and sees her. She's really there, right next to him. And his daughter June is sitting next to her, alongside two of his sons, Forrest and Horace Jr. Rose can't believe it. "But I saw you go under," his wife answers. "We did go under, but we were saved by dear and dear Winter." Rose is overcome with joy.

His son Winter saved them. What a miracle! He reaches up to touch Margaret's face, but there are tears in her eyes. "What's the matter?" "It's… it's Winter. He saved us but got swept away himself. Percy disappeared as well. We've been floating here for over an hour and there's been no sign of him." Rose plunges back into despair.

He grabs his wife's hands. She looks away and wipes a tear from her cheek. They spend another hour drifting around in a state of shock. Rose can see now that they're floating on a slate roof. The marquee of the roller skating rink drifts by, and he remembers taking his young boys there to practice figure eights. The happy memories are a painful contrast to the destruction all around them. He turns to Margaret. "What about our house?"

Is it still standing? Horace Jr. shakes his head. We don't think so, but it's too soon to say, and it may be a while before we can know for sure. Horace Jr. explains why it might be a long time before the floodwaters recede.

On the west end of town sits Stone Bridge. It's a low railroad bridge with seven granite arches that span the Connemaw River. It was sturdy enough to withstand the initial punch of the flood, but all the trees, crushed homes, and other wreckage swept up at the head of the flood are now piled against the arches of the bridge, forming a giant temporary dam.

The result is that a lake has formed right over the top of Johnstown. Eventually, their slate roof begins drifting toward a three-story brick house that's still standing. As they approach, Rose realizes it's Dr. Swan's home. He's a dentist and owns one of the town's most elegant houses. Or at least, that's what it used to be. Now, the part above the waterline is cracked and smeared with mud.

They see figures waving to them from the third floor windows. Other survivors. One man tosses a rope and Horace Jr. catches it and pulls the family closer. When they reach the house, Horace Jr. and Forrest help June and Margaret climb through a window. Then it's Rose's turn.

Gently, the two young men lift up their injured father and pass him through the window, into the hands of the other survivors. Agony shoots through Rose's broken collarbone as they move him. But despite his pain, Rose feels a pulse of pride. He's raised such brave young men. Then he feels a pang of sorrow as he thinks of his two other fine young sons, who have both vanished in the flood.

Victor Heiser leans over the edge of the roof, stretching the metal pole in his hands as far as it'll go. He yells out, "Hey, when you pass by, grab the pole!" It's after midnight and nearly pitch blackout. Victor can't see more than 50 yards in any direction. Over the past seven hours, he's rescued several people with the pole, plucking them out of the dirty water and sending them into the building's attic through an access hatch in the roof.

He had help from others before, but they've all collapsed inside, exhausted from their awful day. That's left Victor alone to save anyone still floating by. He's now trying to rescue a mother and her daughter, who's maybe 12 years old.

They're drifting along in the dark water, clinging to a plank of wood. But the mother looks catatonic and doesn't respond when Victor calls to her. So Victor focuses on the girl, who's wearing a soggy blue bonnet. Hey, grab the pole. Just grab on. I can't. Yes, you can. What's your name? Laura. Laura, your mother needs you. Just grab on. I'll do the rest.

Victor holds his breath as they get closer. He's not sure Laura is strong enough to hold onto the plank and the pole at the same time. Thankfully, after the initial surge, the floodwaters have calmed and the mother and daughter are not moving very fast. Laura manages to snag the pole with her right hand and holds fast to the plank with her left. Victor encourages her as he reels her in.

Yes, you're doing great, Laura. Just a few more feet. As Victor seizes the end of the plank,

Laura loses her grip on it. She screams, and Victor lunges out, grabbing her by the hair under her bonnet. He can tell he's hurting her, pulling her up by the scalp, but he gets her high enough out of the water to grip his arm. She kicks her feet and scrambles onto the roof. The mother is still clinging to the plank, and she's starting to drift away again.

Victor grabs the plank with both hands and lifts with all his might. He gets her halfway out and leans his weight back, dragging her upward. It's not enough. He can feel her slipping back. He's going to lose her. But Laura grabs her mother's dress. It's just enough to get her up onto the roof. All three of them tumble backwards, finally safe.

Victor hugs Laura, who's shivering. He tries to comfort the mother too, but she's moaning and babbling. He can't even pry the plank out of her hands. She won't loosen her grip. She carries it with her as Victor guides her and Laura to the hatch that leads to the attic. Alone again, Victor scans the dark water. Laura and her mother are the seventh and eighth people he's rescued tonight. He feels good about that.

But he's haunted by other thoughts, like failing to rescue Mrs. Fenn, the mother of six he saw hanging onto a barrel of tar. She drifted by when he was still on the tin roof, and he couldn't help her. He keeps hoping that she'll float by again. Most of all, though, he's watching for his parents, who have been missing for nearly eight hours now. He's clinging to the hope that they're still alive out there.

somewhere in the dark. Horace Rose bites his cheek and tries not to scream as the needle pierces his face. He's lying on a pool table. The dentist, Dr. Swan, hovers over him, murmuring for him to hold still.

Dr. Swan then jabs the needle in again for another stitch. Rose grips his thighs with his hands and digs his nails in, speaking through clenched teeth. "How many more, Doc?" "A dozen. You've got quite a gash." Ten minutes later, around 3:00 AM, Swan finally finishes up. He pats Rose's hand.

Well, not many men could take that without a drink or two. You're a tough one. Rose just grunts. Dr. Swan turns to leave. He's got other casualties to check on. He's just the dentist, but right now that's as close to a physician as anyone can find. Rose thanks him and lies there in the dark, listening to the rain fall outside.

Rose is grateful to be alive, but he'd rather spend another year as a soldier back in the Civil War than endure another night like this one. And it isn't just the pain of his broken collarbone and gashed face. Two of Rose's four sons, Winter and Percy, are still missing. Throughout the night, survivors have continued floating up to Dr. Swan's home, but there have been fewer and fewer with every passing hour.

Rose fears the worst for his sons. Gradually, Rose notices an odd light playing on the walls, a lurid yellow glow. Then he hears distant screams. He struggles to his feet and makes his way to the window.

In the darkness, he can barely make out a wide island of debris piled up against the stone bridge. And what Rose sees there now leaves him mute with shock. Somehow, despite all the water around, there are fires burning there. Some small, others a dozen feet tall. It doesn't make sense, but it's true. And the screams are coming from the same direction.

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Head over to Symbiotica.com and use code ODDS for 20% off and free shipping on your subscription order. Victor Heiser scrambles over a pile of debris, then stops and listens to the automatic bells toll in the church nearby. 5 a.m. The rain has stopped at last. Dawn is breaking. A new day is here, but that brings him no feeling of relief. His parents are still missing.

With the water finally receding a little, small islands of debris have emerged. Archipelagos of broken homes and fragments of steel mill equipment. Victor was crossing from island to island with an occasional quick swim between them.

He's headed for the biggest island he can see, an expanse of burning wreckage at Stone Bridge. It's not clear how the fire started, but judging from the screams, people must be trapped in the debris and in danger of being burned alive. After one more swim, he reaches the bridge. The expanse of wreckage is far bigger than he expected, spanning the entire 400-foot length of the bridge.

The air is hazy with smoke, and there's a foul smell. A mix of waterlogged debris, charred and burning lumber, and dead bodies. He can hear yelling in all directions. He's not sure which way to go.

Then he hears one scream, quite close. He hurries around a pile of shattered mill furnaces to find a middle-aged man with a thick beard trying to rescue a young woman. She's maybe 20 years old and she's barely conscious. Her leg is trapped beneath rubble and the fire is closing on them fast.

Victor runs up to the man, who's coughing in the thick smoke of the approaching fire. The flames are no more than 50 yards away. How can I help? We need to dig her out! Victor starts grabbing debris and flinging it aside. Chunks of concrete, bricks, smashed chairs. But the top layer is the easy part.

There's bad news underneath. The young woman's leg is pinned beneath a thick telegraph pole just below her knee. Her leg is twisted at a grotesque angle. Victor and the bearded man get their arms beneath the pole and try to heave it off with all their might, but it won't budge. It's too heavy. The man signals for Victor to stop. No, it's no use. We're going to have to cut her leg off.

I saw an axe over there. The man rushes off to grab it. Victor is appalled. They can't just chop off her leg. The young woman stares at him with pleading, terrified eyes. No, please, don't let him take my leg.

Victor doesn't know how to answer. She looks so scared that he wants to promise they won't, but he can also see the fire drawing closer. It's 30 yards away now. They maybe have five minutes, probably less. So he says nothing because honestly, he doesn't know if that's a promise he can keep.

Telegraph operator Emma Ehrenfeld wraps a wet blanket around her shoulders, trying to stop her teeth from chattering. She's walking down the Sodden Road a few miles below the dam. She's headed back into the town of South Fork, along with two railroad workers. The mud is so thick that every step threatens to suck the shoes off her feet.

In the pale pre-dawn light, she can see hundreds of oak and hickory trees knock flat along the road. Dead squirrels and muskrats, even some fish, lie in her path. Neither she nor the men speak.

After scrambling up the ridge, then watching her telegraph tower get destroyed, Ehrenfeld spent the night shivering outdoors in the rain, huddled with the railroad workers. When the rain stopped, they decided to make their way into South Fork. They reach town just as the sun rises over the mountains to the east. Most of the floodwater has run down into the valley below, and Ehrenfeld is shocked to see what it's left behind.

In the lower parts of town, especially in the center, most of the buildings have been torn from their foundations. But the residential parts of the town, up on the ridge, are fairly intact. The elevation spared the homes there from the brunt of the flood. While she's taking all this in, one of the railroad workers addresses her. "Miss Emma, this here's a doctor's office. Maybe you should stop by?" "Why?" "Well, your lips look a bit blue.

I think it would be prudent. Given her shivering, Ehrenfeld agrees. The office is set just off the street in a little wooden annex attached to a tall, stately Victorian mansion with steep roofs. The railroad worker opens the door for her and she steps inside.

Hello? Yes? A young doctor appears with spectacles and short brown hair. How can I help you? You look cold. Ehrenfeldt nods and lets the doctor examine her. She looks around the office. I thought you'd be more busy.

Yeah, well, just a few broken arms so far. Most people in South Fork were at home. Up here on the ridge, thank God. I suspect things are much worse in Johnstown. I'm gonna head there as soon as I can. Hearing the name Johnstown pains Erin Felt. Maybe it's just the cold or the exhaustion, but she finds herself getting choked up. The doctor notices. What's the matter? I, uh, I work the telegraph.

And I kept sending messages about the dam all afternoon. I couldn't tell if they did any good. I'm sure you did your best. Ehrenfeld nods, but it's cold comfort. The truth is, Ehrenfeld feels guilty. She keeps thinking about how she didn't take the warning seriously at first. She just hopes that the doctor is wrong about Johnstown being in ruins.

On the burning island of wreckage, Victor Heiser watches the bearded man return with an axe. He heads straight for the young woman whose leg is trapped beneath the telegraph pole. But before he reaches her, Victor steps in front of him, blocking his path. "She doesn't want you to take her leg." The man stops, surprised. Then he lowers his voice to a growl. "Stop being sentimental."

The leg goes, or she dies. Look! He points, and Victor sees the flames less than 20 yards away now. They must be 10 feet tall.

Victor knows the man is right. Surely, life with one missing leg is better than burning to death. But he can't imagine inflicting pain like that. Doing something so violent, he pleads with the man. But you have an axe. Chop the telegraph pole instead. I can't. It's two feet thick. We'll never get through. We don't have the time. No, no, no. We have to at least try. Give me the axe. No!

Give it to me! For several seconds, he and the man struggle for the axe. The man finally lets go. Fine. Suit yourself. You'll both end up dead. The man hurries away. Victor stands over the pole. He's chopped plenty of wood before. It can't be much different.

He starts hacking the timber. He doesn't care about precision. He just slams the blade down as fast as he can. Over and over. With every swing of his axe, the woman howls in pain. The timber is jolting her mangled leg. It must be excruciating. But Victor blocks out the sound and keeps working.

After a few minutes, he pauses to catch his breath. This is far harder than chopping firewood. He's also sweating, and not simply from exertion. The flames are just 12 yards away now. He can feel their heat, and they're only growing stronger. Which means now, Victor has no choice. He'll have to take off the young woman's leg. He turns to her. I'm so sorry, but...

He can't make himself say it. He just points at her leg. She screams in fear and starts sobbing. Victor gets choked up himself, but he has to save her life. He wipes his eyes and raises the axe. He's just about to swing when he hears a voice. Give me that.

It's the bearded man. He's come back. "It's a good start. I can finish." Victor hands over the axe. The man begins raining down massive blows. Huge overhead strikes that make the entire pole shudder. The young woman writhes in pain.

Finally, the telegraph pole cracks and separates into two pieces. The fire is just a few yards away. Victor and the man bend down and get their arms beneath the piece that's still over the woman's leg, heaving with all of their might. Slowly, painfully slowly, it lifts. Victor's face is bright red. He feels like he's giving himself a hernia. The man gasps at him. I'll hold it! Drag her!

Victor grabs the woman by the shoulders, jerking her free and dragging her back. A moment later, the man drops the pole with a shudder, and it crashes back down. Together, the two men run from the flames, carrying the woman to safety. Victor can see bone jutting out of her shin, a compound fracture. But, however broken, it's still attached. Still hers.

When they're clear of danger, Victor takes a moment to catch his breath. He shakes hands with the bearded man, who promises the woman he'll go in search of a doctor to tend to her leg. As for Victor, he's going to stay and help rescue other people. He can still hear screaming, and one of those voices just might be his mom or his dad.

Reverend H.L. Chapman accepts a piece of bread and butter from his maid and tears off a huge piece with his teeth. He's famished because he's refused to eat anything else this whole night. He felt like he didn't deserve it, not after he scolded his maid and Mrs. Brinker for stocking provisions in the attic earlier. He's grateful for their foresight now. Without them, they wouldn't have any food at all.

He's in the attic of his home, along with a dozen other people: his maid and Mrs. Brinker, his wife and granddaughter, plus others who floated by during the night and crawled through the tiny window to safety here. Chapman has been trying to comfort them with prayers, but the truth is, in the face of a disaster this enormous, he's struggling to find any comfort in prayer himself.

After finishing his bread, Chapman declines another piece. Then one of his emergency houseguests speaks up. It's finally getting light out, Reverend. What's it look like outside? The man has a broken hip and can't move from the floor. So Chapman rises and opens the window, leaning out to get a better view. With the water receding somewhat, he can see more than he expected. Unfortunately, what he sees is grim.

Much of the town is still underwater, especially the lower parts, but everything else he sees has been utterly destroyed. Chapman tries to describe it: the gutted homes, the mounds of debris, the dead cattle and horses, and not a single living soul. A certain biblical passage comes to mind now, that of Noah and the devastation wrought by the flood.

The man with the broken hip speaks up again. "Why did this home survive, Reverend?" Chapman has been wondering that himself. As he studies the scene below, he realizes the answer. His home, the Parsonage, stands right next door to the massive stone Methodist church. Based on the direction the flood came from, the church bore the brunt of the initial force, sparing his home the worst of the impact. He turns to the man.

It appears that the Methodist Church saved us. Well, and here I grew up thinking that only the Catholic Church can save. Everyone starts laughing. A moment of welcome levity after such a terrible night. But when the laughter dies down, Chapman hears a single, quiet voice. Is this my home standing? It's his wife's cousin, Mrs. Brinker, who lives across the park.

Chapman turns to look again, hoping for a miracle, that her home might be one of the few that was spared. But no. Chapman can see the brick outline of a foundation, but little more. Her home has been swept away, and presumably, her husband with it. Is anything left, Reverend? Reverend? Chapman remains quiet, but is too choked up to speak anyway.

He spent all day dismissing her worries, disparaging her fears. How very wrong he was. All he can do now is pray for the living and for the dead.

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Every stained glass window is shattered, the colored shards crunch under his feet, the plaster is warped and broken, and the choir loft has crashed to the floor. The pulpit is turned over and the curtains he loved are stained and torn. He sees his wife's cousin, Mrs. Brinker, gazing wistfully at the dented, mud-smeared organ. Whatever her faults, she played music beautifully every Sunday. It's 3 p.m. the day after the flood.

Earlier this morning, the floodwaters finally began to recede. The water is now low enough in most of the town for people to walk around and tally up their losses. Many members of Chapman's congregation came here to the church first, one of the few buildings still standing. Chapman wants to provide what comfort he can to people. One fellow, a carpenter and widower named Rufus, looks especially forlorn.

Before Rufus arrived, people were whispering that he'd lost his young twin daughters in the flood, had them torn right out of his hands. Chapman peels a Bible off the muddy floor. It may be waterlogged and battered, but it's still the word of God. He calls out to Rufus. Rufus, my heart weeps for you. As he strides over, Chapman gently peels the wet pages, flipping toward Genesis chapter 9.

He can see the carpenter watching him, his mouth set hard. He must be in shock. Chapman takes his hand. In the name of God, let us pray. Chapman starts reading from Genesis. It's about Noah. Not about the flood, but afterward. About the rainbow and God's promise to help his people. About how even from tragedy, so much good can come.

But before Chapman finishes, Rufus rips the Bible from his hands and flings it across the church. No! No true God would ever let this happen! Chapman is stunned. He watches Rufus stomp through the mud and out the church doors. Chapman wants to yell after him, but his voice dies in his throat. What would he say? That Rufus has no right to be angry? That he shouldn't be devastated?

Right now, perhaps people don't need prayers as much as they need food, shelter, and medicine. That's where he can make a difference. He turns to look for his wife. This is something they can do together. But before he can find her, Chapman hears the church doors open. He turns around, and then Mrs. Brinker lets out a yelp and starts running across the church, slipping in the mud toward the figure who's just entered.

It's a filthy man, shirtless except for a red shawl around his shoulders. He's wearing no boots, just socks and using a stick of timber as a cane. But when Mrs. Brinker throws her arms around him, Chapman's heart soars. He barely recognized the man. It's Mrs. Brinker's husband.

Everyone in the church crowds around as Mrs. Brinker and her husband embrace. Everyone except Reverend Chapman. He watches from a distance for a moment, then wipes away the hot tears streaming down his face. He's heartened to see, even amidst so much destruction, a small touch of God's grace. Horace Rose flinches as his wife Margaret dabs some iodine on the stitches on his face.

It's 4:00 PM the day after the flood, and he's still resting in Dr. Swan's home. The iodine stings like crazy, and he tries to distract himself with something he's been wondering about today. "Has anyone heard any news about the dam? How did it fail?" "Stop worrying about it, dear. Just rest." But then Margaret stands abruptly. A groggy rose turns to her.

"What's happening? Percy! Winter!" She breaks down and sobs. Anguish grips Rose's heart. Did someone bring news of their deaths? He struggles to sit up, fighting against the stabbing pain in his collarbone. "Mom! Dad!" But no, Rose is wrong. It's not news of their sons. It's the boys themselves, running up to hug Margaret. They're both alive. Neither one even appears to be hurt.

There's a joyous scene as his daughter and other two sons hear the commotion and rush in. It's almost too much for Rose to bear, the whiplash of emotions. After a few minutes, he slumps back down, tearing and laughing and exhausted all at once. Then his wife encourages everyone to join hands. Let's pray to God in thanks. It's his providence that spared us.

But as they pray, Rose finds his mind straying. His thoughts keep wandering back to the South Fork Dam. How did it fail? And why? He feels a pulse of anger thrum inside him. He suspects this wasn't just a natural disaster, but a man-made one too.

The dam was owned by the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club. There were always rumors that they were negligent in its upkeep, which means the club and its wealthy Pittsburgh officers were likely responsible, criminally responsible, for this tragedy. Rose has lived in Johnstown his whole life, practicing law and raising his family here.

Johnstown is his home, his whole world. Once he's recovered from his injuries, he's going to do everything in his power to get to the bottom of what really caused this disaster. Victor Heiser turns in a circle, trying to determine where he is.

It's 5pm, the day after the flood, and he's slogging through the mud and debris toward his neighborhood. But there's so little left that he can't orient himself. The homes, the streets, the parks, every point of reference seems to have been wiped off the face of the earth.

Victor spent the morning and afternoon helping people who were buried or trapped amid the wreckage piled against the stone bridge. Finally, the fires burned themselves out, and the screams stopped, so Victor came down here to keep looking for his parents.

But he's two days to know where to start. The town seems eerily quiet, too. There should be mill whistles blaring, wagons and trains lumbering by, but there's an eerie silence instead. There are a few other people like him, wandering around. He sees a middle-aged man who's naked except for a tuxedo jacket. He also sees a woman lying near a pool of water, weeping.

She's smeared with tar, and Victor realizes that it's Mrs. Fenn, the neighbor he saw clinging to a barrel. He rushes up. "Mrs. Fenn, it's Victor. Do you need help?" She's babbling to herself, lost in her own world of grief. He touches her shoulder, and she doesn't respond.

He stands there awkwardly, then pulls a blanket from a nearby pile of debris and wraps it around her. It's wet, but he doesn't know what else he can do. After another 20 minutes of wandering, he orients himself by the setting sun and the creeks that enter town. From there, he picks his way to where he thinks his family's home once stood.

He grew up on this spot. It represented his entire childhood, and now there's nothing left. It just doesn't seem possible. Suddenly, he spots something in a mound of rubble.

Oh my god! He scrambles up the mound and starts throwing boards and bits of stone off until he's sure of it. It's his father's old wardrobe from the second floor storeroom, the one with the name "Heiser" carved into it. It's lying on its side, scratched and mud smeared. The door is stuck, so he plants both feet and tugs. He nearly falls backwards when it pops open.

Water pours out, but inside he finds what he was hoping for: his father's Civil War uniform. He pulls the coat on. The damp wool makes him shiver. He wraps it tight around him and buries his hands in the pockets. And in one of the pockets, he feels something hard. He pulls it out and holds it up. It's a penny.

In contrast to all the mud and smashed debris around, it looks strangely new and shiny. From atop the mound, he surveys the endless acres of ruin. He fights the lump rising in his throat and clutches the penny in his fist. He'll keep searching for his parents, all night if he has to, all week.

He knows the odds of finding them alive are slim, though if he doesn't, then this old jacket and the single penny inside will be all he has in the world. The only things in all of Johnstown to remember them by.

The Johnstown flood remains one of the deadliest disasters in U.S. history. More than 3,000 residents of the valley below the South Fork Dam were killed, injured, or went missing. And in the months after the flood, hundreds more died of disease and malnutrition.

People noticed a strange contrast among the bodies found in the days after the dam broke. Some looked battered, with limbs violently torn off, but many other bodies looked whole and peaceful, as if the victims had simply fallen asleep and would soon wake up from this nightmare. Bodies were still turning up as late as December.

Victor Heiser eventually did find the body of his mother, but his father was never positively identified.

Just as his mother hoped, Victor did leave Johnstown and went on to have a distinguished career in medicine, specializing in fighting infectious diseases. He's credited with instituting sanitation and preventative medicine reforms in the Philippines that saved two million lives. But for decades afterward, Victor had nightmares of clinging to a roof in the dark, dangling above an abyss.

He died in 1972 at age 99.

Newspapers ran stories about the Johnstown flood for days on their front pages, and the public responded with unprecedented donations. $3.7 million, the equivalent of $125 million today. Much of this money went to Clara Barton's Red Cross, and the Johnstown disaster helped establish the Red Cross as a major force in U.S. disaster relief.

This money bought 20,000 pounds of ham, 30,000 pounds of coffee, and 7,000 pairs of shoes. Many shared Victor's eagerness to leave Johnstown. After the flood, they simply started walking away and never looked back, with nothing more than clothes on their backs. Most of Johnstown's population, however, remained and started rebuilding.

By mid-July, six weeks after the flood, the Cambria Ironworks was up and running again. School opened that fall only a few weeks behind schedule, while railroad crews worked around the clock to lay new track into Johnstown. Telegraph operator Emma Ehrenfeld would go on to marry a doctor in South Fork named Joseph Glass. She died in Florida in 1943.

The Reverend H.L. Chapman stayed on to direct rebuilding efforts in his church and nurture the spiritual needs of citizens there.

Horace Rose soon became the most prominent man in Johnstown, eventually becoming mayor. As an attorney, Rose represented a group of Johnstown businessmen who filed one of several negligence lawsuits against the hated South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club. They based their claim on the fact that a study by civil engineers had blamed the dam's failure on insufficient spillway capacity, among other things.

But Rose's efforts were for naught. Not a single lawsuit against the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club succeeded, and the club was never held legally responsible for the disaster. The people of the valley didn't let the legal defeat ruin them. Within a few years, they had built Johnstown back up, even bigger than before. The town still exists today, though the dam was never rebuilt.

And while Johnstown has suffered other floods over the decades, none have ever matched the sheer terror and destruction of that tragic day in May of 1889.

On our next episode, I speak with Park Ranger Doug Bosley from the Johnstown Flood National Memorial. His great-great-grandfather survived the 1889 flood, and Bosley himself survived another flood that struck Johnstown in 1977. This is the final episode of our four-part series, Johnstown Flood.

A quick note about our scenes. In most cases, we can't exactly know what was said, but everything is based on historical research. If you'd like to learn more about this event, we recommend the book Johnstown by David McCullough.

I'm your host, Mike Corey. Sam Keen wrote this episode. Our editor is Steve Fennessy. Sound design by Rob Schieliga. Audio engineer is Sergio Enriquez. Coordinating producer is Desi Blaylock, produced by Emily Frost and Alita Rosansky. Managing producer is Matt Gant. Senior managing producer is Ryan Lohr. Senior producers are Andy Herman and Rachel Matlow. Executive producers are Jenny Lauer-Beckman, Stephanie Jens, and Marshall Louis for Wondery.

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