MY LITTLE HOMETOWN OF RIDGWAY, PA., got severely flooded in late May, severely. Three inches of rain fell overnight. Only one other time in its history, back in 1972, was the water this high. It crested at 23 feet and 16 feet is flood level.

There were boats on Main Street. People were walking in water up to their ribcages. People in the CVS Pharmacy who stayed behind to stack inventory onto higher shelves had to be rescued when the water rose above their waists. Across the street the Napa Auto Parts store had its big picture windows caved in by waves caused by a passing truck.

A lot of water flows through Ridgway. Many logs have floated out of town in its long history going back to 1821. The wide Clarion River converges in the middle of town with Elk Creek and Gallagher Run and then combined they flow south toward Pittsburgh, but not before passing through the west end of town. When a big flood comes, the west end always gets hammered.

In the summer season, tourists can rent canoes on Main Street in Ridgway, on both sides of the river. They can paddle for miles and be picked up at their choice of take-outs. Ridgway is nestled in a valley between steep forested hills. When heavy rains come or sudden snow melts, Ridgway water always rises. Flooding is not unusual, but it’s generally minor in nature, and we’re used to it. Most folks in the low lands have sump pumps.

I was there in 1972 for that big flood. It devastated Howe’s Leather Company where I worked. My friend Ron and I broke in after midnight and waded in water waist-deep trying to stack leather on higher ground. We labored alone until sunrise.

Again, all the downtown businesses on the west and north ends of town were flooded. Homes of friends of mine were damaged. Ron could fish off the front porch of his downtown apartment. I called him after the waters receded. “I saw your house submerged on the news,” I told him. He said he lost everything in his basement. Water was pouring into his first floor.

The local VFW was decimated. Water filled their cavernous storeroom basement and flooded the bar, restaurant, and kitchen. All of their big coolers were floating, motors underwater. It’s still closed.

The large Sheetz gas station on the edge of town along Elk Creek is still closed. Its pumps and mini-mart kitchen were submerged.

Our house was not flooded. It’s on the high south side of town. I talked to Frank, my tenant, and he told me how he learned of the flood.

He was awakened by an early morning phone call from a female friend. “Help me, Frank. My house is flooded. Do I turn off the electricity? I can’t get out.”

Frank worked 30 years for the power company. Frank drove to the end of Center Street, parallel to Main Street, and found he couldn’t reach her house. Flood waters held him back 20 feet. He got out of his Jeep and called for her to get what’s important and wade to him. While he was talking, the water rose up over his feet. He took a step back and continued to talk his friend to safety. He looked down and his feet were again under water. He looked at his Jeep. His front end was half submerged up to his front axle. He had to quickly back it up. His friend made it out safely.

There were no fatalities during this flood. Ridgway people are veterans to rising waters, as I said. No one lost their cool. My friend Ed Horner is being called a hero because he rescued a dog that was chained to its dog house. The shepherd was sitting on the roof, whining, and it bit Ed on the arm when Ed reached for it. Still Ed brought the dog to safety because he’s a hero.

The area did have one fatality, eventually. Rubberneckers a week after the flood tried to explore the river banks downstream. There was so much debris that one canoe got pinned between floating trash and a trestle wall, capsized, and a young girl drowned.

Several of my friends have camps along the Clarion, miles out of town. Often they canoe from town to camp. They knew enough to stay off the river. It was kids, doggone it.

When we were kids we waited at least a week, then we knew where there was a small island three miles out of town that was known for collecting all kinds of treasures after a flood. We would walk the railroad tracks to the island, then wade across.

One flood we found on our island many thousands of dollars in bundled lumber from the Buehler Saw Mill on West End. We were about to buy enough hammers to build a city when the Buehler boys drove down the middle of the river in their monster truck and took the wood back home.

Steve Gibbs teaches at Benicia High School and has written a column for The Herald since 1985.

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