© Jerry F. Couch, 2022. No part of this article is to be used in any way without the written permission of the author.

COULD IT HAPPEN AGAIN?

According to TVA, a “maximum probable flood” at St. Paul would cause the Clinch River to rise 36 feet above the low water line. This would be a flood like nothing in our area’s recorded history.

The photo below was taken in the late 1950’s as part of a TVA study relating to the history of flooding in the upper Clinch Valley. The red line in the photo depicts TVA’s estimate of the depth of water that could be reached in St. Paul during a maximum probable flood. Notice that the line is several feet higher than the Clinchfield RR bridge spanning the river from St. Paul to South St. Paul.

IN JANUARY OF 1957, heavy rain fell for several days upon an area encompassing portions of four states. Rivers and creeks began to rise and reclaim what had once been their territory. The muddy water began to invade homes and commercial buildings. People fled to higher ground. In Southwest Virginia, every community was affected, with the hardest hit being Pound, Clinchport, and Fort Blackmore.

THE FOLLOWING ARTICLE was written by Ralph Rasnick for the Wednesday, January 30, 1957 edition of the Kingsport Times:

FLOOD WATERS SMASH VIRGINIA TOWNS

SOUTHWEST VIRGINIA — During the last wars soldiers overseas often looked over a town gutted by war and wondered aloud, “What would our people do if our towns were smashed like that?” I found out here what most of us have thought all along.

The floods have smashed towns and swpt them away to equal Hitler’s wildest dreams.

Probably the hardest hit in this area was Pound, but it was one among many. Homes in Dickenson County were swept away by the dozens. Some were moved intact; some were splintered to bits.

At six a.m. Tuesday, Pound Police Chief Rufus Baker realized the town was in trouble. Pound River was beginning to leave its banks. Up and down the streets he drove with siren screaming.

A little later in the morning, people began answering the alarm from nearby areas. Boats were on the roads everywhere, trying to find an open route.

I tried Route 23. It was blocked miles before I could reach Pound. Blocked also were Birchleaf Road and Guest River.

Finally, I reached Pound by driving the tops of the mountains through Caney Ridge into Clintwood and back through Georges Fork.

People were standing in the road everywhere. They appeared to be shocked at what they saw. Volunteers in all sizes of motorboats shuttled back and forth picking up people who had become stranded.

Tricky currents made it difficult, but none of them stopped until all were safe. Some residents were picked from treetops; some were taken from the house tops.

An Elementary schoolhouse was picked up and moved downstream as though it had suddenly decided on a better location. House trailers and everything the raging water could yank loose moved out.

About one o’clock in the afternoon, the water began to fall as rapidly as it had risen. But long before that the people began to organize.

Red Cross workers and Public Health officials moved in and set up headquarters in the High School. by afternoon, the job of caring for the homeless and cleaning up had begun full blast.

Calls began coming in from Haysi and Splashdam in Dickenson. There, the picture was about the same. Unofficial estimates of homes lost ran as high as 25 besides those that had been flooded but had held their ground.

At Splashdam, a coal mining town owned by Clinchfield Coal Corporation, 14 houses and a church were destroyed in one row. No trace was left of 13 of the houses. One was smashed into the little church house, but the little church held its footing.

One man told me he counted 15 automobiles floating like ducks down the Russell Fork River in about an hour. He said the river roe six feet in one hour.

A coalminer from Splashdam whose home was one of the 13 swept away gave this version of the way his house left. He came out of the mine about 10 a.m. he said, after reports came into the mine on the conditions outside.

He said he first moved his car from beside the house to higher ground. Then he and some men moved out a television and a refrigerator and he went back inside after something else.

He said he heard something crack and the back end of the house seemed to squat down. He said he ran for the front porch, and the porch was raised into the air as he leaped out into waist-deep water and the house vanished behind him.

Many residents here moved in with neighbors, and a few set up temporary residence in the bath house.

At Haysi, Police Sgt. Arnie Taylor said his police car became stalled in the water. He called a wrecker, but before the wrecker could get to the car, it moved out into the current and vanished.

By dark, power was back on in parts of Dickenson, but it will be months before things are back to normal. Many of the bridges have been cleaned out by the flood.

But one fellow at Pound pretty well summed up the attitude of the people here in this whole area. He said with a cold smile, “Sure, I lost everything I had, but I can make it as good as the rest of the people here.”

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THE FOLLOWING ARTICLE was transcribed from the January 30, 1957 edition of the Bristol Herald Courier. It provides brief descriptions of how flooding was affecting some local communities:

WISE, VA. — Four trailer homes and two houses were evacuated in the Dotson Creek area by the Wise Fire Department. The homeless went to the houses of friends to spend the night.

The Wise County Health Department issued this statement for all residents of flooded areas: “For drinking and cooking purposes, boil water at least 20 minutes and store in clean containers. This is to continue until normal sanitation can be restored. For all flooded areas where private water and sewage facilities are used: Families whose water or sewage facilities have been damaged should contact the Health Department.

An estimated 75 school children were “marooned” at J. J. Kelly High School when they couldn’t cross the Guest River to get home. School officials said they will probably spend the high and assure all that they’re “under good care.” All schools in Wise County will be closed [January 30] due to the flood.

BIG STONE GAP — Some homes are surrounded by water but none have been evacuated.

APPALACHIA — Water is lapping along the highway near the corporate limits but there is no immediate danger.

NORTON — The Guest River section of Norton is flooded on Highway 610. There are no immediate reports of damage. Some homes are isolated but have not been evacuated. In the Ramsey section of Norton, one family was evacuated. The Bristol Life Saving Crew, en route to Pound, stopped here this afternoon and evacuated three families by boat in the East Norton area (Norton Coal Co.). Highway 23 is under five feet of water. The highway from Norton to Wise is also closed.

COEBURN — The Bondtown Section is partly under water. Tom’s Creek is flooding all lowland areas. No evacuations have been reported. Coeburn sent three motor boats to aid in evacuating families at Pound.

ST. PAUL — Alternate Route 58 is closed, with Clinch River waters over the highway at the bridge in the easter section. No damage has been recorded in St. Paul. [Editor’s note: That situation would soon change.]

CLINTWOOD — The water is receding. It flowed into about 20 homes and the families were evacuated, most to homes of neighbors. The high school suffered flood damage. Schools throughout Dickenson County will be closed tomorrow. These fragmentary reports added to the picture: In the Splash Dam section, 14 homes and a church were washed away. At Lick Fork, a company store of Clinchfield Coal Corporation was reportedly under water earlier today. Employees of the store said the water rose so rapidly they didn’t have time to save even the store’s records. Stock in the store was estimated at some $100,000. There was danger, for a while that a huge dam at Lick Fork Mine, used to impound water for washing coal, might break.

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THE FOLLOWING STORY describes the Couch family’s experiences during and after the 1957 flood.

© Jerry F. Couch

From January 27, 1957, until January 31, 1957, approximately 11 inches of rain poured down on the Clinch Valley. The Clinch River overflowed its banks, eventually rising 21 feet above low-water level. My mother was sure the water would reach our house, even though it had never done so during the 50 years the house had stood on that spot. My father decided we would spend the night with Grandmother Couch just in case.

About 9:00 that evening, my father went back to check on our house. He discovered the first floor was flooded by about a foot of water, and the river was still rising. He decided to try to save some of our possessions by moving them to the empty second floor. Using a lantern borrowed from a railroad worker, Daddy waded through the swift, muddy water rushing across the yard between the CC&O Railroad and the house. Once inside, he began gathering papers and other items. Meanwhile, logs and heavy floating objects slammed against the house. He could hear and feel the river’s powerful force as the house shuddered and vibrated beneath his feet. Fearing the house would be swept from its foundation and he would be trapped inside, he made the hard choice between his safety and possible loss of everything we had. It was the right choice, of course. Our belongings could be replaced, but we couldn’t replace Daddy. Frightened and worried, my parents spent a sleepless night waiting for the morning light to disclose the extent of our loss.

With great dread, my parents walked down the railroad track to see if we still had a home. Though damaged, it was there. The outbuildings, including a shed with a winter’s supply of coal inside, had been washed away by the river. The smokehouse was gone, along with the meat of a recently butchered hog. Worst of all, the floodwaters had reached a depth of about four feet inside the house.

After the water receded, Daddy splashed through the mud to the kitchen door and tried to open it. He discovered the refrigerator had floated up, overturned, and ultimately came to rest on its back in front of the door, blocking entry. Forcing the living room door, Daddy was confronted by a soaked, muddy mess. The upholstered furniture and mattresses were ruined. Bedroom furniture was warped and buckled with veneer peeling off in sheets.

Not all was lost, however. Our photo albums were safe and dry on top of the big wardrobe in my parents’ bedroom. Pictures on the walls were high enough to escape damage. Dishes, pots, and pans all could be cleaned and sterilized. Clothing and bed linens were taken to a commercial laundry to be washed, sanitized, and salvaged.

The first task was to get rid of the mud. My father and uncles scooped it up with coal shovels and threw it out the open windows. Wheelbarrow loads of coal were hauled down the railroad track from the homes of generous South St. Paul neighbors. Mud was removed from the coal stoves and fires were lit in them to help dry the house. Because our spring was still flooded by the Clinch River, my mother and aunts carried water in buckets from the creek for cleaning – a long haul.

Finally, the day came when we were able to move back home. Because the floodwaters had been potentially disease-bearing, every inch of the house had been disinfected with bleach. Surprisingly, the Philco refrigerator, Kenmore waffle iron, Maytag wringer washing machine, Big Ben alarm clock, Zenith radio, RCA record player and most other things still worked after they were washed, bleached, rinsed, and dried out. We didn’t have as much furniture as before, and some of what we now had was unfamiliar – much-appreciated gifts of friends and family who shared what they had with us.

The Red Cross rendered assistance in the form co-payments for replacement furniture and bedding. My parents were very grateful for this help because they could not have afforded to replace all these items at one time. Though it wasn’t strictly necessary to do so, that money was repaid in later years – with interest.

Our story was far from unique – it was repeated many times throughout the Clinch Valley that year. Directly or indirectly, everyone in St. Paul was affected by the flood. The town’s water system was knocked out and drinking water was brought from Abingdon in milk tank trucks. Residents also carried buckets of water from the St. Paul lake (now known as Lake Estonoa) just as their forefathers had done before St. Paul had a public waterworks. For a while, the Bickley Bridge was closed to traffic. However, Dr. J. D. Creger was brought across the flooded bridge on a farm tractor so he could deliver a baby at the home of Clyde and Yuko Robinson. That baby grew up to be retired St. Paul police officer, George Robinson.

PHOTOS OF ST. PAUL DURING THE FLOOD OF 1957

1957 FLOOD PHOTOS FROM OTHER SWVA COMMUNITIES

The photo below was taken at Fort Blackmore and appeared in the January 31, 1957 edition of the Kingsport Times.

Floodwater at Pound, Virginia was still rising when the photo below was taken for the January 30, 1957 edition of the Bristol Herald-Courier.

The picture below is from the January 30, 1957 edition of the Kingsport Times. Clinchport has changed considerably in the years since this photo was taken. In the 1970’s, following several major floods, the town was relocated to higher ground by TVA. Not everyone wanted to move, however, and some residents chose not to participate in TVA’s buyout.

The City of Norton also experienced its share of the flooding. This photo appeared in the January 30, 1957 edition of the Kingsport News.

Floodwater entered this Haysi business and, leaving its equipment and furnishings either muddy or ruined. Photo is from the January 31, 1957 edition of the Bristol Herald-Courier.

“BONDING FOR SURVIVAL” – WHEN THE WORST BRINGS OUT THE BEST IN APPALACHIAN PEOPLE

ABOVE AND BELOW – Flood photos from the January 31, 1957 edition of the Bristol Herald-Courier.