Agnes flood of ‘72 swept away a lot, but not our spirit

WILKES-BARRE — When June 23 rolls around every year, many people still remember what they can never forget.

On this date in 1972, the Susquehanna River rose to historic levels, the heretofore protection of the levee system failed, and Wyoming Valley was flooded — the river was now a mile wide, and devastation was everywhere.

In a word, life as we knew it was gone — everything was gone.

And it would never really come back.

Today marks 54 years since Hurricane Agnes swept away most of the memories flood victims had before June 23, 1972.

The muddy flood waters came with a vengeance, destroying homes, businesses, vehicles, infrastructure, and lives. It took weeks, but the river finally began to recede — leaving a vivid shade of brown on the streets, in buildings, and on lawns.

And most still clearly recall the stink — it was awful.

When the water was gone, people returned to what was left of their homes and businesses, working tirelessly for months to recover as much as Agnes didn’t sweep away.

What was left — which wasn’t much — was covered in mud, soaked in river water.

And everything had that stink — much of what was important to us was gone.

So much was lost.

Every street in the floodplain had piles of flood mud-covered garbage stacked out front, waiting for the Army Corps of Engineers to take it to a landfill. Every day, this process continued as everybody’s lifelong memories were piled into dump trucks and taken to faraway landfills.

Living through the Agnes Flood of 1972 was — and still is for most — humbling. Many found themselves living in a trailer, faced with the task of putting their already broken lives back together.

And another thing that was lost in June 1972 and will never get back is that feeling of security — the feeling of safety that no matter what, everything would be okay.

Agnes movie

Alan K. Stout, executive director of Visit Luzerne County, was part of the team that produced the remarkable documentary film “Agnes,” which will be shown again on Wednesday at the F.M. Kirby Center for the Performing Arts on Public Square.

Show times are Wednesday at 1 and 7 p.m. The Agnes film team consisted of Stout, Tim Novotney, Bob Savakinus, and Tony Brooks.

”It’s very important for us to remember the story of Agnes because it’s such an important part of our history as a community,” Stout said. “I think it’s important to always honor those that lived through it and overcame it. And for many of us, that’s our parents and our grandparents. I also think it’s very important for the younger people of the community to understand what happened. Because that is the standard to which we should always be held. That is the type of community that we should always strive to be.”

Stout said he was five years old when Agnes came a-calling.

”The post-Agnes images of this valley are some of the first memories of my life,” Stout said. “I remember standing on my grandparents’ porch and watching all of their belongings being dropped into the back of a dump truck by a bulldozer. Images, such as those, are one of the reasons I was inspired to try to help make this film.”

What Agnes could never take away

Yes, Agnes did wreak havoc on us and every other person or family whose front door was crashed through by the Susquehanna River.

Everything was lost, including many sentimental items such as photographs, diplomas, recipes, letters, record albums, baseball cards, clothing, jewelry, heirlooms, and much more.

We were all left with that stink, the mud and devastation. The Agnes Flood of 1972 altered so many lives — and not in a good way.

So each year, we don’t “celebrate” the anniversary of Agnes — we simply pause to remember a time when fear rose as high as the river water.

No matter how high they build the levees, there can never be total assurance in our minds that it won’t happen again. We are forever at risk of losing our homes, our belongings, our keepsakes — our everything.

We can cope with most of those losses. We can replace some things. We can remember.

But we can’t feel like we did before Agnes — no matter how hard we try.

It’s the loss of that feeling — of being able to go to bed without the worry of hearing those sirens and those men on bullhorns.

The flood of 1972 humbled us all — it stripped away our carefree attitude.

The summer of 1972 took away our naivete. The brown, muddy, smelly river water clearly showed us the reality of loss. And it left an ever-present dread every time that damn river rises.

However, like all flood victims, we were resilient. We rolled up our sleeves, cleaned up our homes, and rebuilt our lives.

The Flood of ‘72 took an emotional toll that was far-reaching.

And yet through it all, the people — the flood victims and all who volunteered to help — engineered a most amazing recovery.

The “Valley With A Heart” was reborn.

Many homes were saved — far too many others were lost. All those cherished items gathered over generations would never be recovered.

But the spirit of the people was never lost. The people were not going to allow that flood to diminish their lives, their history, and their heritage from being forgotten.

Agnes did much harm to this valley and its people.

But that flood could never wash away what had always been this region’s most valuable asset — its people and their spirit.

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