Water-logged memories of the REALLY big ones

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By Bill Wundram | Saturday, April 26, 2008 6:43 PM CDT | () comments

There is truth to the saying that I have covered just about every flood since Noah, but of all of them, my memories are still soaked over the one that scared the bejesus out of us in 1993. We hit a scary 22.63 feet, and everyone was getting the idea that Davenport was going to float away.

All the major networks had crews in town for day after day that late June and early July, convinced that this was our millennium. Even President Bill Clinton came to town wearing cowboy boots. Standing on the Centennial Bridge, he looked down on the cocoa-colored water and said:

“I’ve seen a lot in my life, and this is about as bad as it gets.”

Water, water everywhere, and there are so many incidents from “The Great Flood of ’93” that are scribbled in my old flood notebook …

By yawn’s early light, a CNN commentator was interviewing Davenport Mayor Pat Gibbs alongside the beleaguered Davenport Ground Transportation Center. Cameras zoomed in on a water-soaked animal, scurrying from the water. Excitedly, the announcer said:

“Look, look, even the wildlife is evacuating. There is an otter escaping the floodwaters.”

The mayor wryly interrupted:

‘‘Sorry, but that’s no otter. It’s a river rat.”

One jittery TV reporter dramatically said to me, “I hear rumors that this flood stage could reach 40 feet.”

Good grief. That would have put water atop Brady Street hill.

They nicknamed him “Fats” Collins because he was the most enormous (350 pounds) and strongest man in the floodwaters. He could lift a 40-pound sandbag with one hand in Keithsburg, Ill. “Maybe this’ll get me out of jail sooner,” he said to me, sweating and laughing. He was one of hundreds of prisoners, released from correctional centers, to sandbag threatened neighborhoods. The residents were so thankful that everyday they made morning cinnamon buns and afternoon fudge for the prisoners.

We never lost our sense of humor. Peggy Sue’s, a bistro that muddled through the flood and stayed open, had a sign, “Guaranteed Riverside Seating – Water Views at All Times.” Clinton’s Riverboat days went on as usual with a slogan: “Come Hell or High Water.” Sandbaggers filled ’em up in exchange for free tickets to what used to be called The Mark. There was a giant sign, “High Water Mark.”

I’ll always remember the joy of Craig “Smitty” Smith. He went swimming in beer, lapping up the brew with each lap. Front Street Brewery was up to the gills in water and had to empty its home-brewed beer down the drains. Glub-glub went the copper vats, but the drain couldn’t handle a thousand gallons of beer all at once. The beer reached a swimmable four feet in the basement and Smitty, a cook, leaped in and went swimming.

Bill Wundram can be contacted at (563) 383-2249 or bwundram@qctimes.com.