The Great Flood of ’63

By Paul Dyer and Robert McCormack.

It is nearly impossible for me to write my memories of the Great Flood of 1963.  After all, that event was nearly 57 years ago and age has taken its toll to both body and mind.  However, March 11, 1963 was an important event in our lives and I shall try to recall memories of the Great Flood of 1963.

I owe a great deal of gratitude to Mr. Dwight Williamson’s article, Recalling one of the worst floods in Logan.  His comprehensive writing of the historic flood event cannot, of and by myself, be equaled, as most of my memories are centered around the small community of Cherry Tree addition and downtown Logan.

As you well know, Logan, West Virginia is a small town located on the Guyandotte River in southern West Virginia, some 60-odd miles from the state capital, Charleston.  Several small streams drain the surrounding landscape of mountainous terrain into the Guyandotte River which flows into the Ohio River near one of the state’s major cities, Huntington.

One of these streams, which we referred to as “creeks”, ran alongside our small community of Cherry Tree.  Tradition has it that there were two large cherry trees across from the school beside where Handy Andy Grocery stood As a child, the creek played a major role in the summer activities of some of the children in my community.  At the time, it was broad enough to float the cut-off tops of automobiles from the local junkyard.  Needless to say, it offered opportunities for small boys to fish and wade or swim in its waters.  New road construction took out about half of Cherry Tree when it was constructed and the small community became even smaller when it was finished. While being constructed, a culvert was installed underneath the new roadwork that provided storm drainage for the area.  The culvert emptied those waters into the creek.

I do not recall an extended period of rainfall but there must have fallen a prodigious amount of rain to have created the ensuing Great Flood of ’63.  On the morning of March 11, 1963, before dawn, my uncle Bob Jenkins came by to tell my parents that they should keep a watch on the creek as it was rising rapidly.  My mother,  accompanied by my brothers, Roger and David and my sister, Elsie, hurried to the higher elevation of the railroad tracks that bordered Cherry Tree.

My father and I lingered behind to prepare the remaining children, Sharon and Danny Joe for evacuation as we could see by the light of early dawn that the culvert had become not a drain but instead, a geyser spouting water as high as three feet into the air.  By the time my father and I carried the two remaining children to the safety of the railroad tracks we were wading floodwater that was waist-deep.  My mother and a large number of residents had taken refuge in the Sears building in downtown Logan but were later relocated to Central junior high on Draper Hill because the Sears Building itself had flooded.

My father and I reunited the remaining children with my mother and walked down the hill to observe the flooded valley.  I had never seen so much water before in my life.  To all appearances, what lay before us was a huge lake bounded by the surrounding mountainsides.  After the arduous trek to look at the floodwaters, Dad and I had a breakfast of crackers and Vienna sausages while sitting on the railroad tracks at the Logan train depot.  It is strange that the mind can recall such an amazing detail as Dad and myself sitting by the train depot eating crackers and Vienna sausages while the tragedy of the great flood played itself out before us.

Later that day I met my friend Lanny Dingess and we walked down the tracks to watch the floodwater flow toward the river.  It was on this outing that we observed a rooster perched on a tree trunk in the middle of the stream.  We thought it was hilarious as the rooster flapped his wings and crowed mightily as the fast-flowing water carried him onward toward an uncertain future.

My sister, Phyllis, had recently purchased for me a Kay, f-hole rhythm guitar.  Before Dad and I left the house, I had foresight enough to place the guitar into the attic space.  Imagine my sorrow as Lanny and I stood in the road and saw the floodwaters up under the eve of the house.  I just knew that the flood had taken my new guitar from me.

Of course, the Great Flood of ’63 was not the only flood that plagued the various communities in and around Logan but it was by far, the largest.  But as all floods can bear witness, the water did recede after a while, leaving behind the tragic results of high water in flooded homes.  Ruined furniture, soggy mattresses and floors thick with mud, overturned cabinets, broken glass and possibly worse, greeted Dad and me as we forced the front door open and walked in.

When we left the house we forgot to take the house cat with us.  It was such a pitiful sight to see the bedraggled cat sitting in the mud and wailing with such a forlorn voice.  How the cat survived in the closed-up house with water to the ceiling, I will never know.

With a sense of dread, I retrieved my new guitar from the attic and nearly danced with joy to find that it had not been damaged at all.  It was the only item in the house that had not been ruined by floodwater.

Others in Cherry Tree were likewise affected by the flood.  I still recall with sadness the drowned carcass of the huge sow that Daddy Fice had been feeding to fatten it for slaughter. A few families were fortunate enough to have a second floor in which to take refuge from the rising water.

The Great Flood of ’63 finally receded as all floods do.  People returned to their ruined dwellings to begin sweeping out all the mud and trash that floods bring with them.  The American Red Cross is to be lauded for all the assistance they gave us during that perilous event; without their help a return to normalcy would have taken much longer.

Robert McCormack relates how the flood affected his family. He was home from college for that semester due to his mother’s terminal illness.   Robert’s Mother, Virginia McCormack was in final stages of her battle with cancer and fortunately was in the Guyan Valley Hospital at the time of the flood.    The water in their home was over the piano keyboard, Mrs. McCormack’s treasured possession.  The piano was too heavy to move upstairs in preparation for the oncoming flood.  Several times floodwaters had been in the basement but this was the first time it entered the house.  Hardwood floors were buckled and covered with mud.  It was fast and furious work to clean up and prepare for the return of Robert’s mother from the hospital. She was devastated with the news that her piano was ruined.  The Red Cross also came to the aid of the McCormacks and replaced some basic furniture and the repair of the floors.

I am sure that other families in Cherry Tree, indeed all of Logan, have their own tales of sorrow regarding the Great Flood of ’63.

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