Chapter Six – Part 3

1937 Flood
In the great flood of January 1937, more than
two–thirds of the area of Louisville,
including the most populous districts in virtually all of the industrial
centers, was covered with water from one to twenty feet deep. In the shallowest depths, the water remained
for twenty–four hours, and the greatest deaths for nearly two weeks. Electric power failed, and the city was in
darkness. Telephone exchanges were
flooded in the submerged districts, and thus was cut off the last link of
communication between the marooned people and the world outside.
In Portland
the disaster was appalling. Homes were
covered with water, and many swept away by the raging current. The muddy torrent of the Ohio rose half way up the eaves of the
church. The interior of the building was
completely ruined. The floor was torn
from its foundation, and as the water receded fell into the basement. Side alters, statues, Stations of the Cross,
pews, and other church furnishings were wrecked. The school buildings suffered great
damage. Decks and equipment were
lost. The beautiful rectory, remodeled a
great expense just a few years before, was also badly damaged, the water
reaching twenty–two inches over the second floor. The flood of 1937 was ten and a half feet
higher than that of 1884.
The Record of March 4, 1937, printed the following:
Among all the suffering churches in our city during
the flood–time, none was perhaps so grievously afflicted as the Church of Our
Lady, which has been wrecked beyond the ability of members of its parish by
their own efforts to restore because they too, almost every one, were likewise
sufferers, sustaining losses to their homes, furniture, clothes, and such necessities
of life as will take months, not to say years, to restore. Fr. Bernard I. Doherty, devoted and energetic
pastor of the Church of Our Lady, is doing everything within his power,
begging all within reach of his appeal, to assist him and his people in
restoring this historic church, one of the oldest in the city of Louisville.
At the advice of architects and engineers, the work
of restoring the church was delayed until all danger of the building’s settling
was past. In February and March, through
the kindness of the Franciscan Fathers at St. Anthony’s Church, the Sunday
schedule of Masses was so arranged that Fr. Doherty could conduct services
there for his congregation. As soon as
possible repairs were made in the school building, and the large class–room was
converted into a temporary chapel. On
Easter Sunday Holy Mass was celebrated in Our Lady’s parish, the first time in
nine weeks. In the days that followed
this schoolroom served as a church for the congregation. Here daily Mass was offered and babies were
baptized. It was in this room at the
little ones received their first Holy Communion and funeral services were held
for five members of the parish.
In the meantime the people of Our Lady rallied to
the support of their pastor, giving what remained of their worldly goods to
restore the church. Former members of
the parish, many priests in their congregations, contributed generously. The work of restoration was begun, and in
August the Church
of Our Lady was again
opened for services.






From The
Record, September 16, 1937:
The Church
of Our Lady today is a
revelation to those who saw it after fifteen feet of water rule in the pews,
side authors, Stations of the Cross, and so forth, and crashed the floor into the
cellar, caring pipes and heaters with it.
Though much remains to be done, the historical church is more
substantial today than for many years.
Wood floor has been replaced with concrete, and
terrazzo for the sanctuary and steps.
The new pews are of walnut, as are the choir rail and paneling at the
back of the church. Water paint hides
the flood marks on the walls. The broken
crucifix and broken stations have been mended and all painted. Every piece of pipe and wood in the building
that was possible to salvage has been utilized in repairs, and new items
purchased only were necessary. Among the
latter are lovely side altars and communion rail of marble – all gifts of the
parishioners, and new lighting fixtures.
Though seventy–five percent of the homes of the
parishioners were submerged in the great flood, through heroic effort, and with
the kind assistance of pastors and members of other parishes in the city, more
than half of the needed funds have already been raised to put the church
properties in good condition. The high
altar will not be painted until later, Fr. Doherty said. The large statue of Our Lady, noted for its
beauty, has been taken down from its place in the high altar to be painted and,
for the first time, it was evident to
many of the statue had been carved out of a solid block of wood. It was imported from France many years ago.
An odd result of the flood was an improvement in the
tone of the organ, believed to be due to dampness causing the swelling of tiny
cracks of its parts. The total cost of
restoring the church property was in the neighborhood of $18,000. Several thousand dollars of this amount was
pledged by the members of the congregation.
Perhaps as a sign of divine providence, the water
level in the sanctuary never reached beyond the feet of the statue of Our Lady,
giving her the appearance of watching over the receding waters.
Scarcely was the work completed when Fr. Doherty was
appointed pastor of St. Paul’s
Church, on Jackson Street. He left Our Lady’s on August 17, 1938.
The following is an account from Sr. Mary Winifried,
a Sister of Mercy and teacher at Our Lady School. At the time of the flood, she resided at St. Ann's Convent, located
2420 Portland Avenue
January 24–31, 1937
The Sisters of St. Ann's became aware of the flood
some time before Monday, January 18, when they noticed the waters from Bank Street flowing
over to meet the waters from Portland
Avenue. The currents met in St.
Ann's yard and poured into the basement with a roar as deafening as
that of Niagara Falls.
On Sunday, January 24, Mother advised the Sisters to
leave. Thirty Sisters found shelter at the College, Presentation, and St. Helena's. The
eight remaining, Sisters Mary Pierre, Mechtildes, Maria Teresa, Mary Thedla,
Jean Catherine, Esther Maria, Winifred Ann, and Frances Lucille, remained to
guard the Blessed Sacrament until it could be removed from the Chapel. Sr. Mary Pierre had been trying since
Saturday to reach St. Cecilia's by phone for instructions about the Blessed
Sacrament, but the telephone connection between the two places was dead. On Monday, Sister called Father Cotton,
explaining her inability to reach St. Cecilia's. When she explained that it was Mother's wish
that they leave, though they felt safe in remaining, Father advised that they
wait a few days longer to see if the water would subside. He gave Sister permission to remove the
Blessed Sacrament to the second floor, in the event water should come in on the
first floor.
The eight Sisters settled down to remain comfortably
at St. Ann's,
with plenty of provisions, candle light, and part-time water and gas. Most of the days were spent watching the
waters meet in the backyard, and huge army trucks going down Portland Avenue with provisions and
returning with full loads of refugees.
Soon the waters rose so high that nothing but motor boats, row boats,
and skiffs, in short, every conceivable kind of craft, was in use on Portland Avenue. The Sisters felt quite secure with the
protection promised them by the fire department across the street. After the water reached a depth of seven feet
and the firemen had to evacuate, the Sisters were left by the firemen under the
protection of the Coast Guard and six able bodied men living next door to the
Convent.
At about three o'clock on Wednesday, Mother Ann
Sebastian phoned to tell Sr. Mary Pierre that she had been advised to have all
the Sisters leave St. Ann's. Mother explained to Sr. Mary Pierre that
Father Cotton had approved their leaving and had directed that the Sisters take
the Blessed Sacrament with them and leave it at the nearest church. The relief agent at St. Joseph's Infirmary came on the line to
say that a boat would call for the Sisters in from one to five hours. Within an hour, everything was ready and the
Sisters were waiting for the boatmen, each Sister wearing an abundance of
clothing. The Blessed Sacrament, in
veils and encased in a small leather receptacle, was on the altar, with lighted
candles. Here, the Sisters knelt in prayer
(with interruption) until the call came at 7:30 p.m. that the boat was at the
lower gate.
The water here was six feet deep. By means of a search light and calls from the
Sisters, the men were directed how to reach the house, where the depth of the water
was two and a half feet. The men told
the Sister to get blankets and pillows to be used in the boat for protection
and warmth. The gas was turned off; the
house locked up. It was eight o'clock
before the men began to row them out.
The Sisters had been praying for moonlight, and even
though it was dark earlier in the evening, as they started, out the moon
appeared. They directed their course up Portland Avenue one
block, then turned over to Bank
Street, proceeding up Bank to 20th. Passing the Good Shepherd Convent on Bank Street, they
noticed the water was up to the top of the high wall surrounding the premises,
with the Sisters marooned on the third floor.
The current was very swift, especially at the intersections, and it was
almost impossible for the oarsmen to keep to the middle of the street. They bumped into telegraph poles, traffic
light standards, and even fences and houses.
At one time, the boat tipped so much that it almost filled with
water. One man steadied it by holding on
to the street sign until his two companions had emptied out gallons of
water. By that time, some of the Sisters
were wet up to their knees.
Turning 20th
Street to Rowan, the boat hit a pole with such
force that it (the boat) was broken crosswise in two pieces. The smaller part
sank and some of the Sisters floated with the current. Sr. Maria Teresa, who
was carrying the Blessed Sacrament, was among those who were adrift. The others adrift were Sisters Mary Thelda,
Mechtildes, Joan Catherine, and Winifred Ann.
Sr. Mary Pierre was clinging to the floating suitcase and the end of the
boat, while Sisters Esther Maria and Frances Lucille clung tightly with arms
and legs to a pole. Sr. Mary Pierre
could see that Sr. Maria Teresa was clasping the leather receptacle containing
the Blessed Sacrament, holding it aloft until she was rescued, although she
sank twice. They got those who were
floating first, took them to a house and broke open a door in order to enter.
In the meantime, one of the other men had broken
into another house and sheltered two Sisters there. When one of the oarsmen said to Sr. Frances
Lucille, “Hold on tight, don't let go of me,” Sister replied, “Man, I wouldn't
let go of you for a million dollars.”
They soon had a fire, chairs having been broken up for fuel. Sisters Mary Pierre, Esther Maria, and
Frances Lucille were the last to be rescued.
When Sr. Mary Pierre was taken into the house, she found five Sisters
praying before the Blessed Sacrament.
Sr. Mary Winifred repeatedly broke in with “Lord, Let one of us live to
tell the tale!”
Sr. Mary Pierre was immediately alarmed when she
discovered that there were only six Sisters in the house to which she had been
taken, and even though assured by a policeman that the other Sisters were in an
adjacent house, she could not rest satisfied until all eight of them had been
transported to another motor boat. This
boat (a New York
relief boat) had accidentally, and not in answer to repeated shouts and siren
calls, come along. It was taking Dr.
Bryan of the Brown Hotel on an urgent sick call, and fortunately, it was a
government boat and well manned. It was
so large that it could not come close to the house, so the Sisters were taken
to it, one at a time, in small skiffs.
The Sisters felt secure when they got into this boat. It was here that Sr. Mary Pierre held up her
skirts so that she could navigate, and went around counting head to satisfy
herself that there were eight.
Sr. Mary Pierre's fears were again awakened when, on
asking to be taken to St. Joseph's Infirmary,
she was told that they would have to go to the City
Hospital, the City Hall, or the Deaconess Hospital. Noticing Sister's hesitation, the men
suggested the Good Shepherd Convent, and Sister gladly acquiesced. A young man aboard the boat, who had been
marooned in the park all day awaiting transportation, knew the neighborhood and
continued to call the names of the streets to the captain until they reached
the 18th and Broadway relief station. Another man aboard, a Jew, warned those
navigating the boat to be especially careful of Sr. Maria Teresa, as she was
carrying “the Sacrament”.
At the relief station, the Sisters were transferred
to covered trucks. Sr. Mary Mechtildes,
who seemed quite exhausted, was stretched out under covers on the floor of the
truck. She had lost her cap and bonnet
in the water. The doctor accompanied the
Sisters to the Good Shepherd Convent and ordered that Sr. Mary Mechtildes be
put to bed at once. The Blessed
Sacrament was put away immediately upon arrival. It had been found intact. Deo Gratias!
The other Sisters, with their heavy clinging, dripping clothes, stood
around the stove to get warm and after being given hot drinks were taken to
bed. Morning dawned, but the Sisters did
not rise for prayers. The only clothing
they had was drying out, so there was only one alternative. The Sisters of the Good Shepherd could not
have been kinder; they exhausted themselves in providing for the Sisters and
anticipated their every need.
On Sunday morning, word came that a truck or an
ambulance would be sent for the Sisters, since the water was down, and that
they were to be conveyed to St. Joseph's
Infirmary. Here automobiles were to meet
them and take them to Nazareth. The Sisters of the Good Shepherd bade them a
most affectionate farewell and seemed greatly concerned about their safe
passage to St. Joseph's. They reached the Infirmary at about 4:30pm,
when an amusing scene followed. Their
guide, an army man, entered with the Sisters, escorting them with the same rigid
precision with which he had carried out previous orders given him under martial
law. None of the Sisters standing by to
greet the eight refugees was allowed to come near them, and the eight had been
warned to speak to no one. For all the
world, they looked like immigrants taken from Ellis Island. The Sisters were detained at the Infirmary
only long enough to be greeted, given refreshment, and sent on their way
rejoicing to Nazareth. Words are inadequate to describe the welcome
these refugees received at Nazareth,
the Motherhouse.
Interior after restoration

70th Anniversary of Flood
As part
of its annual Winterfest celebration on January 20, 2007, the parish hosted a
presentation by Louisville
historian Rick Bell featuring photographs and stories surrounding the impact of
the flood. The event coincided with the
publication of Mr. Bell’s book ‘The Great Flood of 1937: Rising Waters, Soaring
Spirits’. The presentation occurred on
the same day in 1937 when the rains began to fall.
View
the slideshow. Slides advance by clicking
arrows at the bottom of the screen. You
may also click the ‘Full Screen’ button and use the space bar or click the mouse
to advance slides.

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