Whenever anyone mentions The Flood of 2003, my first thought is of one particular photo. When I asked former Mayor Ted Ellis about his first thought, he quickly replied “Nothing too romantic.”
And then, targeting his audience (me), he chuckled.
“I remember tables full of pies and someone who was reluctant to strike his tent when I kept telling him that the weather radar was looking pretty scary.”
Carol Studabaker gets credit for the idea, and much of the work. The News-Banner sponsored the “All-American Pie Contest” as part of the city’s fireworks celebration in 2003. The idea was for people to enter pies for judging. There were prizes, but the main purpose was for people to buy a piece of pie — a la mode optional — with all the money going to the Wells County Food Bank. The response had been super; we erected a tent and were coasting along until the sky turned dark in the west and Ted came around to advise us to shut things down. I do recall some hesitation. The crew, smarter than their leader, began running the pies into the nearby Bluffton Middle School — just in time, but the tent was still up when the winds really picked up. I had the bright idea of having the ability to hold it all together by grabbing ahold of the main pole. Not the best decision of my career. As Dave Schultz often observes when assessing a mistake or an error in judgment, “no one died.” There was a period of doubt, however.
There are a number of details of that Friday evening I distinctly recall, trying to fight rising water both at home, where there was no power, and at the office, keeping the newsprint room dry and prepping for the power to go out there as well. Which, thankfully, it didn’t.
The next two weeks however, are somewhat of a blur. I very well recall being in awe of the Herculean efforts of Jim Barbieri, Glen Werling and Justin Peeper. What timing. Justin has been writing for us since he was a sophomore in high school. He landed a coveted and prestigious Pulliam Intern scholarship and was working full time that summer between his junior and senior years at Ball State. And then Joe Smekens would put it all together each day.
One of the stats I found said we printed 116 flood and storm-related photos between July 5 and July 14. Fortunately, we had transitioned from film to digital photography a couple years earlier. When Doug Sundling emailed several weeks ago asking if we still have those files, I was pleasantly surprised to find that a trove of digital photos — hundreds — had survived 20 years of all kinds of possible technological calamities, not to mention simple human error or negligence.
Unfortunately, not all survived. At some point, I realized that “one particular photo” could not be found. Of those 166 pictures, a front page photo taken by Justin of 8-year-old Damon Kuhlenbeck lugging a sandbag half his size with his tongue protruding was far and away the coolest. Why we did not submit that in our state press association photo contest? Don’t know. And now I do not have the original JPEG to re-print.
However, discovering that Damon lives nearby and has had a laminated copy of the entire front page more than makes up for that. So the coolest part of this 20-year retrospective was meeting with him, hearing about what he remembers and what he’s done since.
(As this is written, the series of articles is in the processing of appearing, so Damon’s story may or may not have run yet. Also yet to come: Mayor Ted’s memories.)
On Friday, Aug. 15 of that year, we put together a special edition — 16 pages of stories and photos to commemorate and chronicle the historic experience. My Saturday morning musings the next day concluded with this, which I think still sums up my perspective:
“Damon learned a sense of responsibility during this flood: He learned how to help out neighbors and people you don’t know without expecting anything in return. He learned at least one reason why it’s pretty neat growing up in a community where people do this.
“And someday, perhaps in 2078, when he’s sitting on his porch watching it rain, his great-grandson will turn to him and say “Gee, gramps, it’s really raining.”
I can just hear Damon, in his 86-year-old raspy voice say ‘Well son, this ain’t nothin’. Back in aught-3…’”
As usual, Ted Ellis has a more meaningful perspective than I. Our series of articles looking back at the flood includes his memories. It includes a story we did not have 20 years ago — a pretty neat account of how he collaborated with the Bluffton Ministerial Association to work with the families who were applying for federal relief funds. Sharing that story required a pause or two. It was an emotional time.
“Corey Betts was a local teen who was battling cancer at the time of the flood,” he wanted to explain. “Many people had put signs out in front of their homes that said ‘Pray for Corey.’ I remember pulling up in front of one particular residence that had a sign and thinking that for all the heartache that the flood brought, there were families whose grief was far greater than the loss of property.
“I still choke up when I think of that.”
miller@news-banner.com
