1955 Santa Cruz Flood Recollections
Page Three
Jim Knapp ('57)
--
This is what I remember about that night.
I came out of the Masonic Lodge on Pacific Ave at about 9:30pm to see that
the river near China Town was over flowing and moving towards Pacific Ave. I
went home and told my dad, who at the time was the manger of Modern Bakery,
that the river was over flowing and we needed to go downtown to the bakery.
We left for the bakery and by the time we got there the water had started
to move over Pacific Ave and was getting higher. Dad said we needed to move
the trucks to higher ground so we started moving the trucks up to the high
school area, but before we could get them all there the water got too high and
we ended up leaving about six trucks behind the bakery.
The water continued to rise and those of us at the bakery did what ever we
could to save things on the floor and in the storage area. The bakers had
placed French bread in the oven to bake during the night, but when the morning
came and the water started to go down the bread was still partly uncooked even
though the heat had been on in the oven for the whole night.
A couple of the bakers had gone over to Pacific and were walking along when
one of them went down, but since they were holding hands he didn't go down the
man whole which was open when they walked over it. Later that next day the
water had gone back to the river and town was just a mess from all of the
materials that had come from the river.
I spent the next week or so cleaning the bakery building, which included
the flower that had floated from the warehouse area to the store in front of
the bakery. Most of the buildings in the area of downtown had some damage and
a lot of mess to clean up.
We were able to start the [bakery] trucks that had been left by the bakery
and, with some minor repairs, they all ran. I worked for the Red Cross going
out trying to see if people were okay when there family members couldn't
contact them; also did whatever else they needed me to do.
Those of us in the auto shop at the high school got the chance to help
clean up cars that had been underwater during the flood. That consisted of
removing the carpet, paneling -- and anything else that smelled like the flood
waters from inside the cars. -- Jim Knapp
Art Weybright ('54)
--
I helped snake logs with a chain and crane that jammed up the Soquel Creek Bridge in Soquel. I was the chain guy, one log at a time for a day and a half until someone had the great idea to set a charge underneath and blow the jam to smithereens.
We were all set and everyone was hiding behind telephone poles to watch when down from the Aptos side of Soquel came a PG&E truck with lights flashing and horn honking to stop us from blowing apart the logjam. Right under the charge was a 15-inch gas main line. So it was back to one log at a time until the area was cleared out.
Bob Bosso ('57)
--
My Dad at the time had the Yellow Cab Company which was located about two doors south of the Palomar Hotel Arcade on Pacific Avenue. When the water started to rise and come onto Front Street, the manager of the Palomar Hotel, decided to open the glass doors of the Arcade on Front Street so that they wouldn't be damaged. The result was that the Arcade became a tunnel of water to Pacific Avenue and made it virtually impossible to go up Pacific Avenue beyond that point. It was so strong that we watched it move several cars across the street to what used to be the S&M Bakery. (A title we didn't even snicker at then!). Even though I had no driver's license, I helped move all of the taxicabs up to Holy Cross Square, and we left my Mom's car over by the Santa Cruz Hotel. We lived on the East Side and couldn't get home because while the bridges weren't under water, all of the bridge approaches were.
My father had a dispatcher who insisted that her boyfriend was going to come get her, so we stayed at the office with her until about 2 a.m. and then gave up on him. We crossed Pacific Avenue in chest high water. The current was so strong that we ended up about a half block down the street on the other side by Model Drug Store grasping at parking meters and then slogged up to my Mom's car. We ended up with 8 of us occupying my aunt's little house on King Street that night. The next day we checked the alternate cab office on Front Street (alongside the Greyhound Depot), and the water had reached about 50" on the windows.
I too remember the silt and the silt smell. For years, we would move a box and get a whiff of that odor. I think that I could identify the smell today in a blindfold test.
The only benefit of the flood was that I grabbed a couple of new tires that came floating by, and they worked well on my first car, a revived 1949 Plymouth taxicab. I use that example now in my econ class at UCSC asking whether they were lost, abandoned or mislaid personal property.
Clearly the 1955 Flood and the 1989 [Loma Prieta] Earthquake were defining moments for people who lived through them. --Bob Bosso
Layne LeComte ('54)
--
I was on Christmas break from Monterey Peninsula College and was working for the post office in downtown Santa Cruz. The regular carrier was on vacation, and I was filling in for him during the holidays.
My route began at a trailer park immediately across the Water Street Bridge, near where the county jail is today. It then went west on Ocean Street to East Cliff Drive, including the side streets throughout the Ocean-Barson Street area. Mail carriers then walked their entire routes.
The morning after the flood hit, there was nothing except water and mud everywhere. The small houses that sat along the east side of the river, where the County Government Center is now, had been uplifted from their foundations, and I could see water marks running from the base-boards to the ceilings. The homes had been tossed around like rag dolls.
In some places the mud and gook were so thick I could hardly walk my route. I stepped off one porch into mud so deep that I thought I was going to be trapped but eventually squirmed free.
A photographer for a San Francisco newspaper took a picture of me holding my mailbag high over my head as I delivered the mail. It was published under the headline, "The Mail Must Go Through."
Kandra Carbone Lippert ('65)
--
My mother was Merian V. Wightman Carbone went to santa cruz high, and she owned and operated Gin and Vin's Liquor store during the 1955 Flood. It was located on Water Street between Vapor Cleaners and the river. She also owned a produce market. Ace Banosco and Doc Kenny owned the meat market, and nearby there a beauty parlor, a laundry, and a little cafe. It was a circle of businesses.
We lived where Harbor High is located and had black agnus and white face steers. I was in Branciforte Elemtary when the flood occurred. I remember downtown Santa Cruz after the waters receded and left all that sludge. I also remember how devasting it was.
My dad Vince Carbone was on top of the liquor store roof waiting for a row boat to come and get him. My husband, Bill Lippert ('57) and his dad Del Lippert were downtown up on top of a mezzanine in a car dealership waiting for the waters to recede.
I particularly remember the slums off Water Street where the poor people lived. That has all been replaced now by the Court House, County Government Center, and San Lorenzo Park.
Fred Bilodeau ('54)
--
On the night of the flood, Cal (Peake, my future wife) and I went to the Del Mar Theater. As we started back to Cal's house in the Twin Lakes area, we noticed the river lapping at the banks; a little scary I might add. Little did I know what was in store for me.
I dropped Cal off and headed for my house on Bay Street in Santa Cruz. I went through Seabright, down by the Castle and along the river; the river was spilling over the banks as I was approaching Ocean Street. A car just ahead of me turned onto Ocean and I continued straight ahead. I suddenly realized I was starting to float. I opened the doors to sink my car back down and shoved it into reverse, backing all the way up the hill. The water was hitting the fan and it sounded like a motorboat. Why it didn't die, I'll never know. I noticed the car that had been ahead of me was in water up to the windows.
I drove back to Cal's and called my folks to tell them the town was flooded and I wouldn't be home. Of course they didn't believe me.
The next morning I took Cal to work at Wrigley's, but with no power they weren't working. Then I proceeded down to town. I worked for Putney's Service at Front Street and Pacific Avenue. The closest I could get was Beach Street Hill and when I looked down, there were cars everywhere buried in mud. Needless to say, I didn't work that day, and it took about two weeks to get the mess cleaned up and back in business.
My Ford smelled awful - I never got that smell out - but the engine kept on running. Ironically, the car I was driving was a brand new 1955 Ford. --Fred Bilodeau
George Kriz Jr ('57) New! as of 7 Apr 2009
--
Unlike many of the people who told their stories, I was not directly confronted with the flood. I was not out there rowing boats or wading down Pacific Avenue. Since we lived in what is now Scotts Valley, all we knew was that it was raining a lot. Of course, my Dad came home with reports of the basement of the Court House Annex being filled with water and thus destroying all of the County cars that were kept in there. And later on, my mother had the job of trying to scrape the mud off of each of the county records that were stored in the basement of the main Court House and then to restore them to useable condition. I certainly remember great piles of mud encrusted school bonds and other documents that had to be restored.
But my story is a story of a blessed miracle! As many of you who had to suffer through piano lessons may remember, among the darkest days each year were the days designated for the dreaded Piano Recitals. Being someone who didn't really practice as much as I should have, I hated these recitals, because there I would be, in front of a bunch of people, forced to demonstrate that I really hadn't learned very much and that I wasn't very good. In the case of my piano teacher, Loren Cox, it was always right before Christmas that he scheduled these awful events. To add insult, he tape-recorded these sessions so that there would be a permanent record of all of the mistakes that each student would make during their recital piece. So he had tapes of me hitting clinkers, muttering my little "god dammits" with each mistake, and mostly struggling through.
Loren Cox's piano studio was a small building in the back of his property on Dakota Street, right along the banks of Branciforte Creek. He had two pianos in there, one for himself and one for his pupils. OK -- this sets the scene.
The 1955 edition of the Loren Cox Annual Piano Recital was scheduled for a couple of days before Christmas. I had not practiced at all for this recital, I was totally unprepared, and I was preparing myself for the worst kind of disaster. This was going to be really bad! But then the rains came! And the rivers and creeks rose! And then, on the very night before the recital, everything flooded and Loren Cox's studio was washed out to sea. A Miracle! I was saved! Thank you, Lord!
So you can see that my memories of the flood of 1955 are memories of a miraculous rescue from the worst kind of public disgrace. --George Kriz Jr
Jim Wenks ('57) New! as of 7 Apr 2009
--
The things I recall were my total surprise at the how extensive the flooding was, the putrid smell of the flood waters after settling, how difficult it was to clean up the mud and silt and how the impact of the flood physically and emotionally affected the owner of the store at which I worked.
Early in the evening of the flood, my dad, who was a fireman with the Santa Cruz Fire Department went "on call" and reported to the fire station, because the city and county officials expected flooding. As a sixteen-year-old kid, though, I didn't really think it would flood, because, after all, my dad would regularly go on call for disasters that would never materialize. I thought that either it wasn't going to flood or if it did, the flood would only be minor.
Separately, my brother [Martin], who was in the National Guard- and who was also a photographer- had orders to report for duty in the Guard that evening, and he took his camera.
With the National Guard alerted and the City and County of Santa Cruz expecting flooding, you would think that I would know it was going to flood. As a younger child I loved to work puzzles where you would connect the dots to make a picture, but I surely didn't connect the dots of these two events and conclude that there would be a flood. Oh well, so much for limited wisdom at age 16. So, I gathered what wisdom I had and decided to go to bed at a decent hour and get a great night's sleep. And by golly, that's what I did!
When I arose the next morning, my dad had just come home a couple of hours before, and my brother had just come home and was excited about what he had seen and photographed. They were both overwhelmed about the destruction they saw. I, on the other hand, reported a great night's sleep. As they described the devastation of the flood, I was completely surprised and in disbelief. I then thought that I better call my boss, Benjamin "Benny" Mock, owner of Mock's Drugs on Pacific Avenue at Church Street. When I asked him if I should come in, he said, "Oh yes, please do. I have a lot of work for you". I had little idea how much work there was.
It took me a long time to get downtown, because, as I recall, the Soquel Avenue and Water Street bridges were damaged and the Riverside Bridge was demolished. As I approached Mock's on foot from the parking lot down the street, I saw a 4-inch hose pumping water from the building. It was about the same size hose that the fire department used to pump water from a hydrant to a fire. The basement was flooded with about four feet of water. Although the main floor had been drained, it still had an inch or so of mud and silt on it. I soon found out that it was my job to remove the mud and silt from the main floor with a large squeegee. At first I was encouraged by my progress, but as the day went on, the smell and the fine, slippery silt seemed irremovable. It took months of sweeping to thoroughly remove the silt from the main floor. From what I recall, you could smell the stench for a couple of years when you first opened the store in the morning.
In the basement the water had completely destroyed the food supplies and refrigeration unit that the soda fountain had used, as well as any merchandise that the drug store stored there, including all of the paper products it sold. Nothing, to my recollection, was saved, and I am not sure if there was any insurance or how much the deductible was if there was coverage. In either scenario the financial losses must have been quite large.
As an adult, I can now understand the impact that the financial loss had on a sole proprietor like Mr. Mock. A few days after the flood, Mr. Mock had suffered what I now recognize as a heart attack and although he survived, he had to sell the drug store to another party. I think of "Benny" Mock regularly and wonder about the length and quality of his life after that ordeal.
When others report their recollection of the flood, they all seem to remember the smell. I do too. With that thought, I have decided to go to bed at a decent hour and get a great night's sleep. --Jim Wenks ('57)
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