Incredible historical detail. I listened to the audio book and had to really concentrate at times to not lose track of all the characters. David McCullough builds up to the flood so the reader has a thorough understanding of the economy, geography, transportation, and sociocultural make-up of Johnstown in 1889, before getting swept into the actual flood disaster. It made me think of our experiences with 1997 Red River flood and Hurricane Katrina.

I’m not sure how I am just reading this book now- I’m a history nerd and emergency manager from western PA. Regardless, I think this might be my favorite McCullough book.

The super-rich show typical hubris, not allowing any payment for damages they caused.

When I visited Johnstown a few years ago I made sure I went to see the famous South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club to see what was a left. The big clubhouse was still there. So were a few of the oversize houses. And I could see the remains of the dam which collapsed in 1889 killing thousands downstream mostly in Johnstown, Pennsylvania. With its yawning gap it was an eerie sight. There is a visitor center there now and a museum. McCullough tells the story from all the different perspectives, and tells it well.

A wall of water, estimated by modern scientists to have been as high as 60 feet in some places, came crashing through a valley living in the shadow of a dam built to create a hobby-spot for the ultra-elite of the day- Carnegie, Mellon, and all the railroad and steel royalty of the time. By the time it reached Johnstown is had already wiped several towns off the face of the map, and could only be seen as a just wave of rubbish, many died before they even saw the water. In all, several thousand people would die, and 80 entire families would be erased from history. I admire and cannot fathom how people who lose a child pick up the pieces and move on, but the idea of a woman losing her husband and 7 of her children, having only the one left, or any combination of grief that this flood caused is staggering to me. That sort of tragedy, thank god, is so far removed from my own life that to read about it is literally beyond comprehension- I know that its terrible, it shakes me in my bones, but I continue to feel safe myself.

McCullough did a fantastic job of setting the time and the place, leading you into these people's lives, their personal histories in this beautiful, forested valley, and in introducing you to a valley forever changed by one large storm, and one poorly maintained dam. He created connections between the reader and the lives of the Johnstonians that aren't severed even when the flood comes, or later, when the book ends. The pace never wanes, and there are no extraneous details, everything he writes, matters (which is more than I can say for some authors, Winchester ). I would have enjoyed to hear more about the particulars of the court cases, but it was not the standard at the time that the proceedings in damages court be recorded, and so there was unfortunately nothing that McCullough could do, but I do appreciate that he approached modern legal counsel who have reviewed the case and rendered their opinion on it. That was not something I had seen a modern historian do, and it was very interesting. His conclusion was decisive, fair, and brutal. It was an excellent story told.


I would have to say that this still takes second place to the Under a Flaming Sky: The Great Hinckley Firestorm of 1894 which remains for me the most pivotal work written on a natural disaster in America, but that out of all the natural disaster books I've read, The Johnstown Flood is one of the most excellent and important reads. Sitting by Under the Flaming Sky the two are unquestionably must reads.

Such an incredibly horrific event that possibly could have been avoided. McCullough, does a great job in explaining events that preceded and followed this tragedy, while giving great eyewitness accounts of the flood. It was hard to read at times, as it was so horrifying. It was great to read how so many from our country, and even other country's, gave aid and comfort to the victims. So many incredible stories from within this late 19th century event. I highly recommend this.

What a magnificent story of impending doom, all that could be easily avoided were it not for human greed and lack of caring about the "working person" by 19th-century capitalists that built the dam and the mills as well as the managers than ran the town's industry as well as the town itself. An excellent museum of the flood is in Johnstown, too, with a chilling electronic diorama of the disaster as it unfolded. One of my best friends is now a sociologist teaching at UP-Johnstown, where his dissertation on the deindustrialization of the steel industry earned him an interview in the early days of academic positions starting to be hard to come by, and he cinched it! Many of his students are sympathetic to his most radical critique of society as their parents and grandparents had lost those steel mill jobs that were, as typical, replaced by "McJobs" - low income, few/no benefits or security, etc..

A riveting historical event, the Johnstown Flood comes alive in this non-fiction documentary by author David McCullough. The book starts slowly. As the facts and backstory are set, the narrative is dry and quite meticulous. However, the story builds and the first-person accounts are truly fascinating as they fit into the timeline. The narrative highlights a low-tech world where a lone train whistle is the primary alert to massive devastation. This book describes the utter destruction of a dam break and the tremendous human spirit that rises from tragedy. As an interesting sidebar, it also documents news reporting at the time. It’s a powerful comparison to today’s world, some 125+ years later, and worthy of a read just to gain a new perspective especially amidst the COVID-19 crisis. I recommend the audio book. The dry facts and figures morph into a stirring visual. The oral storytelling is moving and sets a powerful scene.

On May 31, 1889, the South Fork Dam broke and sent the contents of Lake Conemaugh careening down the valley toward Johnstown, Pennsylvania, stripping away everything in its path. David McCullough recounts what happened before and after this preventable disaster. As in many tragedies, those in charge were warned ahead of time, and remediations suggested, but these remedies were ignored. This account tells of the contributing factors of business decisions, scientific principles, weather, and a club of wealthy people who were not interested in taking advice. The author analyzes the entire sequence of events – from the history of the dam’s construction to the aftermath of the disaster. It is a detailed account that focuses on personal stories as well as the larger picture. The incredible power of natural forces is vividly described. It was one of the first times the Red Cross participated in civilian relief efforts for a disaster. Recommended to those interested in 19th century US history and tragic incidents that bring out both the best and worst of human nature.

The copy of this book I borrowed was the 50th anniversary edition of the work. I found it to be captivating and enjoyed it immensely. I had read several other books by this author and found this, his first book, to be just as good as his later writing. Although more of a local history book than anything else, I would recommend this work to friends and family who may be interested in natural disasters.

WOW - what a book. I really liked it though it was extremely difficult to read.

The Johnstown Flood (locally, the Great Flood of 1889) occurred on May 31, 1889, after the catastrophic failure of the South Fork Dam on the Little Conemaugh River 14 miles (23 km) upstream of the town of Johnstown, Pennsylvania. The dam broke after several days of extremely heavy rainfall, releasing 14.55 million cubic meters of water. With a volumetric flow rate that temporarily equaled the average flow rate of the Mississippi River, 2,209 people, according to one account, lost their lives, and the flood accounted for US$17 million of damage--about $463 million in 2017 dollars.

The American Red Cross, led by Clara Barton and with 50 volunteers, undertook a major disaster relief effort. Support for victims came from all over the United States and 18 foreign countries. After the flood, survivors suffered a series of legal defeats in their attempts to recover damages from the dam's owners. Public indignation at that failure prompted the development in American law changing a fault-based regime to strict liability.

On May 28, 1889, a low-pressure area formed over Nebraska and Kansas. By the time this weather pattern reached western Pennsylvania two days later, it had developed into what would be termed the heaviest rainfall event that had ever been recorded in that part of the United States. The U.S. Army Signal Corps estimated that 6 to 10 inches (150 to 250 mm) of rain fell in 24 hours over the region.[10] During the night, small creeks became roaring torrents, ripping out trees and debris. Telegraph lines were downed and rail lines were washed away. Before daybreak, the Conemaugh River that ran through Johnstown was about to overwhelm its banks.

On the morning of May 31, in a farmhouse on a hill just above the South Fork Dam, Elias Unger, president of the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club, awoke to the sight of Lake Conemaugh swollen after a night-long heavy rainfall. Unger ran outside in the still-pouring rain to assess the situation and saw that the water was nearly cresting the dam. He quickly assembled a group of men to save the face of the dam by trying to unclog the spillway; it was blocked by the broken fish trap and debris caused by the swollen waterline. Other men tried digging a ditch at the other end of the dam, on the western abutment which was lower than the dam crest. The idea was to let more water out of the lake to try to prevent overtopping of the crest, but without success. Most remained on top of the dam, some plowing earth to raise it, while others tried to pile mud and rock on the face to save the eroding wall.

John Parke, an engineer for the South Fork Club, briefly considered cutting through the dam's end, where the pressure would be less, but decided against it as that would have ensured failure of the dam. Twice, under orders from Unger, Parke rode on horseback to the nearby town of South Fork to the telegraph office to send warnings to Johnstown explaining the critical nature of the eroding dam. But the warnings were not passed to the authorities in town, as there had been many false alarms in the past of the South Fork Dam not holding against flooding. Unger, Parke, and the rest of the men continued working until exhausted to save the face of the dam; they abandoned their efforts at around 1:30 p.m., fearing that their efforts were futile and the dam was at risk of imminent collapse. Unger ordered all of his men to fall back to high ground on both sides of the dam where they could do nothing but wait. During the day in Johnstown, the situation worsened as water rose to as high as 10 feet (3.0 m) in the streets, trapping some people in their houses.

Between 2:50 and 2:55 p.m. the South Fork Dam breached.[13] A LiDAR analysis of the Conemaugh Lake basin reveals that it contained 14.55 million cubic meters (3.843 billion gallons) of water at the moment the dam collapsed. Modern dam-breach computer modeling reveals that it took approximately 65 minutes for most of the lake to empty after the dam began to fail. The first town to be hit by the flood was South Fork. The town was on high ground, and most of the people escaped by running up the nearby hills when they saw the dam spill over. Some 20 to 30 houses were destroyed or washed away, and four people were killed.

Continuing on its way downstream to Johnstown, 14 miles (23 km) west, the water picked up debris, such as trees, houses, and animals. At the Conemaugh Viaduct, a 78-foot (24 m) high railroad bridge, the flood was momentarily stemmed when this debris jammed against the stone bridge's arch. But within seven minutes, the viaduct collapsed, allowing the flood to resume its course. However, owing to the delay at the stone arch, the flood waters gained renewed hydraulic head, resulting in a stronger, more abrupt wave of water hitting places downstream than otherwise would have been expected. The small town of Mineral Point, one mile (1.6 km) below the Conemaugh Viaduct, was the first populated place to be hit with this renewed force. About 30 families lived on the village's single street. After the flood, there were no structures, no topsoil, no sub-soil – only the bedrock was left. The death toll here was approximately 16 people. In 2009, studies showed that the flood's flow rate through the narrow valley exceeded 420,000 cubic feet per second (12,000 m3/s), comparable to the flow rate of the Mississippi River at its delta, which varies between 250,000 and 710,000 cu ft/s (7,000 and 20,000 m3/s).

The village of East Conemaugh was next. One witness on high ground near the town described the water as almost obscured by debris, resembling "a huge hill rolling over and over".[14] From his idle locomotive in the town's railyard, the engineer John Hess heard and felt the rumbling of the approaching flood. Throwing his locomotive into reverse, Hess raced backward toward East Conemaugh, the whistle blowing constantly. His warning saved many people who reached high ground. When the flood hit, it picked up the locomotive and floated it aside; Hess himself survived, but at least 50 people died, including about 25 passengers stranded on trains in the town.

Before hitting the main part of Johnstown, the flood surge hit the Cambria Iron Works at the town of Woodvale, sweeping up railroad cars and barbed wire in its moil. Of Woodvale's 1,100 residents, 314 died in the flood. Boilers exploded when the flood hit the Gautier Wire Works, causing black smoke seen by the Johnstown residents. Miles of its barbed wire became entangled in the debris in the flood waters.

Some 57 minutes after the South Fork Dam collapsed, the flood hit Johnstown. The residents were caught by surprise as the wall of water and debris bore down, traveling at 40 miles per hour (64 km/h) and reaching a height of 60 feet (18 m) in places. Some people, realizing the danger, tried to escape by running towards high ground but most people were hit by the surging floodwater. Many people were crushed by pieces of debris, and others became caught in barbed wire from the wire factory upstream and/or drowned. Those who reached attics, or managed to stay afloat on pieces of floating debris, waited hours for help to arrive.

A contemporary rendition of the scene at the Stone Bridge (1890)
At Johnstown, the Stone Bridge, which was a substantial arched structure, carried the Pennsylvania Railroad across the Conemaugh River. The debris carried by the flood formed a temporary dam at the bridge, resulting in the flood surge rolling upstream along the Stoney Creek River. Eventually, gravity caused the surge to return to the dam, causing a second wave to hit the city, but from a different direction. Some people who had been washed downstream became trapped in an inferno as the debris piled up against the Stone Bridge caught fire; at least 80 people died there. The fire at the Stone Bridge burned for three days. After floodwaters receded, the pile of debris at the bridge was seen to cover 30 acres, and reached 70 feet (21 m) in height. It took workers three months to remove the mass of debris, the delay owing in part to the huge quantity of steel barbed wire from the ironworks. Dynamite was eventually used. Still standing and in use as a railroad bridge, the Stone Bridge is a landmark associated with survival and recovery from the flood. In 2008, it was restored in a project including new lighting as part of commemorative activities related to the flood.

The total death toll was calculated originally as 2,209 people, making the disaster the largest loss of civilian life in the United States at the time. This number of deaths was later surpassed by fatalities in the 1900 Galveston hurricane and the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks. However, as pointed out by David McCullough in 1968 (pages 266 and 278), a man reported as presumed dead (not known to have been found) had survived. In 1900, Leroy Temple showed up in Johnstown to reveal he had not died but had extricated himself from the flood debris at the stone bridge below Johnstown and walked out of the valley. Until 1900, Temple had been living in Beverly, Massachusetts. Therefore, the official death toll should be at 2,208.

Ninety-nine entire families died in the flood, including 396 children. 124 women and 198 men were widowed, 98 children were orphaned. One third of the dead, 777 people, were never identified; their remains were buried in the "Plot of the Unknown" in Grandview Cemetery in Westmont.

It was the worst flood to hit the U.S. in the 19th century. Sixteen hundred homes were destroyed, $17 million in property damage levied (approx. $497 million in 2016), and 4 square miles (10 km2) of downtown Johnstown were completely destroyed. Clean-up operations continued for years. Although Cambria Iron and Steel's facilities were heavily damaged, they returned to full production within a year and a half.[1]

Working seven days and nights, workmen built a wooden trestle bridge to temporarily replace the huge stone railroad viaduct, which had been destroyed by the flood. The Pennsylvania Railroad restored service to Pittsburgh, 55 miles (89 km) away, by June 2. Food, clothing, medicine, and other provisions began arriving by rail. Morticians traveled by railroad. Johnstown's first call for help requested coffins and undertakers. The demolition expert "Dynamite Bill" Flinn and his 900-man crew cleared the wreckage at the Stone Bridge. They carted off debris, distributed food, and erected temporary housing. At its peak, the army of relief workers totaled about 7,000.

One of the first outsiders to arrive was Clara Barton, nurse, founder and president of the American Red Cross.[1] Barton arrived on June 5, 1889, to lead the group's first major disaster relief effort; she did not leave for more than 5 months. Donations for the relief effort came from all over the United States and overseas. $3,742,818.78 was collected for the Johnstown relief effort from within the U.S. and 18 foreign countries, including Russia, Turkey, France, Great Britain, Australia, and Germany.
Frank Shomo, the last known survivor of the 1889 flood, died March 20, 1997, at the age of 108.

My personal feeling is that McCullough is one of the very best historical literature writers ever. I went from a person that did terrible in my coursework of history to someone who likes it quite a lot.
There are quite a lot of places that one can do research for my review of this book.

A favorite book my family had when I was very young was called Heart Throbs, which was a compilation of poems, stories and quotes from many different people (like 500) then they were put into an issue every two years. My sister and I both remembered a story about Johnstown, called "One Mother in the Johnstown Flood." As I wipe the tears from my face from this book, they were one family of hundreds. Very moving.
I HIGHLY RECOMMEND!

I didn't enjoy this book as much as I expected to mainly because it was dry and factual rather like a text book.
What was enjoyable was the stories of the survivors and their spirits and will to rebuild their city.

I read this on kindle and the maps and pictures were not very good.

Overall, a good book for learning about the flood but not so great if you're interested in the human aspect.