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HITTING THE BENCHMARK

"Ever since I started working here in Wilkes-Barre, it almost seems like on a weekly basis people mention the flood of '72. That's the one. That's the benchmark everyone talks about. And not being from this area, and not being around in 1972 I didn't understand the weight of that, but now I do," said Monica Madeja.

Chief Meteorologist Josh Hodell noted, "Historically, river forecasts are always high initially. So when they first came out with a crest of 38 feet you're a bit skeptical. They usually come in a little bit lower than that. Sometimes a good 4 to 6 feet lower. So an initial forecast of 38 feet, you're thinking, all right if it gets to 34 or 35 we're still in good shape but it's still high. This went to 38. And then the forecast was just shy of 41 feet. You just never think that something like that is going to happen."

"We see the projections that started out at 30 feet and then they jumped to 38 and then 42. It's very hard to break a record when it comes to science," said Dave Kuharchik.

"I got one person said, It's a big number, somebody else said, it's really big, someone else said, we could beat Agnes. You know, and that's always been the benchmark flood here. And personally, never a record I thought was touchable. I never thought that river would reach 41 feet again and go figure, it went a foot-and-a-half higher than that," recalls Dave Skutnik.

With mandatory evacuations in place, emergency officials waited for the river to crest. Wilkes-Barre became ground zero.

Everyone felt the intensity of the situation and hoped for the best. "That night when we were standing outside along the river with the National Guard and Wilkes-Barre police and the Luzerne County detectives it was extremely surreal because we were at the scene of, whatever was going to happen, it was going to happen right there," said Joe Holden.

Dave Skutnik noted how fast the river was rising. "Just how fast it was coming up. A foot to two feet every hour. That was mind-boggling just how fast it was rising," he said.

"So we basically set-up shop on top of the levee at that point and watched as the river rose. We stayed there all night as the hours went on the smell was the one thing we all just, you couldn't ignore, was that diesel smell. All that home heating oil was what we were told we were smelling that a lot of people, they can't get that smell out of their brain every time they think of a flood as big as this one," Monica Madeja remembers.

For reporters who make their living getting the big story, it didn't get much bigger than this. But at this point interviews and sound bites weren't needed. There was a feeling in the air and a collective expression of worry. "People's eyes were telling a different story than their mouths were. People were concerned. People were scared. I was scared. And I saw the same look in their eyes. But we were in it together," said Holden.

"There was genuine concern. I could tell you I saw fear in people's eyes. First responders who I look up to as really heroes from so many past disaster events, that they were really scared. There were one or two engineers I knew for the county that had tears in their eyes when they didn't know where the river was. They had an idea where it was, but, at three or four o'clock in the morning when they could not get an accurate reading, they were scared," recalls Andy Mehalshick.

Morning anchor Kyla Campbell says, "And the one officer actually said to me, Kyla, if you hear any creaking from the levee, you grab your camera and you run. And I thought, this is surreal. And they were legitimately scared. And that's what they were told by engineers, if you hear creaking run."

When would the river crest? The answer to this question would prove to be not-so-straightforward. "At that point we didn't think it was cresting. We knew it was cresting at some point throughout the night but we didn't know when," adds Madeja.

To the north, the numbers weren't adding-up. It began to raise some eyebrows. Josh Hodell says, "Waverly above flood stage. Towanda above flood stage. And the one that's closest to us is Meshoppen. And you're looking at the forecasted crest for Meshoppen and it's cresting above the forecast. This isn't making sense. They're going above forecast there, why are we still so low?"

"Things didn't add up. People sent in pictures from West Nanticoke. All I see is Banko's, I see the top of the sign sticking up above the roof. That's not 38 feet. So that set off an alarm bell in my head. Then people started to send in how far in West Pittston the water had gotten. It wasn't 38 feet," said Dave Skutnik.

"When you see some of the odd things that was happening because of the river, the water boils that was occurring, water was just pouring out of the ground when people were fearing levee breaches and it was several feet of water pouring out of the ground. Just those little oddities that were occurring it starts to make sense afterwards when you consider that the crest was as high as it was and higher than was initially said to be the crest," Mark Hiller said.

Several surprises were in store for people watching the river. And a major malfunction would throw a wrench in the science of how the rising waters were being measured.


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