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Johnson's Mill, located on U.S. 25E where the Barren Creek Flood occured. Stop in to see the History of Johnson's Mill and enjoy the freshly ground Yellow Corn Meal and other agricultural supplies. |
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Table that Bob Johnson was clutching when found. (More)
LeAnne Johnson (great granddaughter) |
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My grandfather, L. G. Payne was the Sheriff during the flood and is mentioned in the above article. He went on to be County Judge, dying in office in 1924. |
"Along towards dark as we were getting ready to go to bed, I asked the old woman if it wasn't going to storm, and she said, law yes, Honey. The clouds are just biling up in the west. The baby was crying to go to bed, and we went to bed, me putting the baby down at the foot, said Edmondson, introducing his narrative. Along in the night theAs Edmondson finished his story, tears fell from every eye in the little group of people, who had listened to his story in a dull monotone. Stolid mind people, many of whom had regarded a man who could weep as being soft, wiped the tears from their eyes with a big bandanna hankerchief.old woman woke me up and asked me to go out and see about her crocks in the spring house, as the way it was raining, the creek would back up and the mill would be ruined. I was tired from working all day and sleepy and just plain trifling, too, I expect. I told her that a little milk wouldn't mind if it did get ruined for we had plenty more. But she said she didn't care about the milk but she didn't want to lose the crocks. I told her that they wouldn't likely wash away and I went back to sleep. I don't know how long I slept, but the old woman woke me up calling to me to save the baby. The lightning was flashing and thunder booming hot and the air was filled with the awfulest sounds I ever heard. I threw my feet from the bed and I was standing in water up to my knees. I moved toward the foot of the bed to get the baby. Just as I got there, I heard a roar like thunder right in my ears. I could hear trees and timbers smashing and then the flood struck us. The house groaned and gave way. I could see the ceiling coming down on us and then I didn't remember any more until I found myself floating down the flood on top of a house which supposed was my own as it had a new shingle roof. I don't know whether I was in my right mind or not. I thought I was then, but I doubt it now. I thought I heard a man's voice who I recognized as Bunk Ferguson because he had such a coarse, heavy voice. It seemed to me he was running down the bank trying to warn the people but I think now he was on some drift, floating the same as myself. How aI made that trip in safety, I will never know for I gave up and sank beneath the waters many times thinking it was all over. How far I floated on the housetop I can't say, but before long it struck something and turned over, throwing me under it. I felt it float off of me and as I came to the surface I struck a large timber and catching to it I thought I was safe at last for I knew it would float. As the lightning would flash, and it was almost steady, I could see houses, barns, trees, timbers and cattle floating on the flood which looked to be almost a mile wide.
Before I had gone far, my timber struck something and ended over, throwing me through the air. Again I was beneath the water. I could feel the debris, and logs and timbers as they struck my body or passed over head. Finally, when I rose to the top again, more dead than alive, I was so weak and exhausted I could scarcely move. Throwing my arms out wider for some support, I struck nothing except small boards which gave way beneath my hands and I went under again.
How far I was swept on under the water, no one can tell but directly I felt something solid passing over me and with a mighty effort I turned over and caught the edge of what was part of a room. It was about ten by twenty feet as near as I could judge in lightning flashes. As I crossed on the roof on my hands and knees my fingers in the cracks under the shingles to keep from being thrown off, I was thrown around by the whirling current. I was almost naked, had on nothing but the tattered rags of what had been a shirt when I had started and I was shivering from the cold which had numbed my body. As a flash of lightning came, I looked to the bank ahead about twenty feet away. I would have attempted to try to swim, but just as I let go my hold with my fingers the roof Iwas holding on turned quickly, throwing me far out into the stream. Hopelessly, I struck out for where I had seen the bank and by some miracle managed to keep afloat. I drifted with the tide trying as I went to get closer to the bank which I finally did. Seizing a small sapling, my body swung around against the bank. Though weak, I dragged my cut and torn body from the water and began to climb up the hill on my hands and knees. I did not know where I was b ut I imagain I had drifted ten or twelve miles, but I had gone only one mile and a quarter. Looking around, I could see by lightning flashes a house or a barn and I made my way there thinking I might get some clothes.
At the house I stumbed over a rake and concluded that it was a barn. I went inside thinking I could find some hay to cover up with and get warm but the barn was empty. In one of the mangers I found some large briers and course feed which the cattle wouldn't eat and I crawled into the trough, partly covering myself with dried weeds. Then I lost consciousness. The strain had been more than I could stand.
It was morning when I revived and climbing from the manger stiff and cold, my body cut and bruised and blood clotted. I felt weak and old. My mind was not clear, but I realized that I must have a pair of pants. On into the road I went and started up the hill in search of the house where the owner of the barn might live. Turning and looking back down the creek, I saw a house but did not recognize it. Nothing looked familiar to me. I saw a woman come from the house, and I hid behind a fence. Then I called and asked if any of the men folks were at home. A man came out and the woman went back to the house and I told the man I wanted some clothes. He said nothing but went back into the house and directly fetched a coat and a pair of pants. I put on the pants and he said, Crockett, put on that coat, too. Your're most froze. I put on the coat and looked up at him, for he called my by name and I didn't know him. He asked me if I didn't know him and I told him that I didn't. He said he was Dr. Carr's son-in-law and then I remembered him. I asked him who lived in the house below and told me that Dr. Carr lived there. I knew the place ordinarily but in my condition and with the changes the flood had made, I could not recognize anything. Directly I made my way back to Jim's here and haven't been able to do much since." (end of Crockett's personal testimony)
Those who saw the storm approach say that
two clouds came from opposite directions and apparently met over the district
of which Barren Creek is the water channel. The electrical display is beyond
description, and the water poured in torrents. While the rain began shortly
after eight o'clock Wednesday night, the destruction did not ensue until
about 2:30 a.m. Thursday. The watch of Crockett Edmondson was found a short
distance from his home and it had stopped at 2:38 a.m. Much suffering evidenced.
One who has not visited the scene cannot realize the suffering and privation
which those unfortunate people have undergone and which they must, of necessity,
undergo before the shaken conditions can be righted. All mills on the creek
have been destroyed and those who were fortunate enough to save their corn
and wheat have no place to get it ground. Those who have money with which
to buy foodstuffs are unable to obtain supplies because of the conditions
of the roads over which it is impossible to drive a horse in many places.
Stores on the creek have been washed away and stocks of food which they
contained have gone with them.
Many of the survivors are wearing borrowed clothes, having escaped in their
night clothes or with none at all. Others have nothing to eat and are dependent
upon their more fortunate neighbors who are striving with all their power
to cope with the situation.
Homes are gone and in many cases the survivors lost all the money they
had. Their fields are ruined and wagons and farm implements washed away
and wrecked. Their stock is drowned.
Several of the citizens of Claiborne County have suggested that the county
make a large appropriation for road work in the stricken section and give
employment to all the destitute who are able to work on the roads as these
must be rebuilt before much can be done toward the reconstruction of homes
and mills. This suggestion seems to be finding favor and the county court
may be called upon to make such an appropriation.
Even in the towns of Tazewell and New Tazewell, the pinch of need has been
felt owing to the washout on Southern Railway and the inability of merchants
to receive freight. The railroad is now transferring mail and passengers
a few miles south of New Tazewell where the greatest damage was done to
the road. Through a large fill fully 200 feet in width and 75 to 80 feet
in depth washed out and the passengers must walk down through a ravine
and cross temporary bridge and climb the opposite bank. Stalwart negroes
carry the mail and such of the express as can be handled this way while
passengers convey their own light baggage. This link in the road is expected
to be repaired to such an extent that trains may pass over safely by Tuesday
night or Wednesday morning, when the town can receive a supply of ice and
other much needed supplies.
These are only a few of the stories that came out of that great tragedy.
However, I feel that these are representative of what many people experienced
during this trying time. Certainly there were many, many more families
affected by this terrible flood. Many had losses that were never reported
and the indirect impact on scores of people probably was never known.
I was only three years old at the time of this flood, and therefore, cannot
remember the events of that night. However, I have heard some of these
stories and more so many times that they seem so very real to me. I'm sure
there are others out there that feel the same way. My hope and prayer would
be that it never happen again. (Submitted: by Shelby McBee) THE END
This completes the articles about Barren Creek Flood, August 3-5, 1916.
Taken from "The People's History of Claiborne County Tennessee 1801-1988.
Pat O'Neal
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1999