Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

123. The station here was jammed with a seething mob, rolling back and forth like the flow and ebb of a tide. Walking out to the street, I saw the city of Pittsburg (sic) a total mass of black buildings silhouetted against a low black sky. Rain fell steadily and thru the inky darkness, flash lights (sic) of soldiers bobbed here and there. Nearly all the downtown streets were roped off, as the water was up to the second story windows on Liberty Ave. Here and there a rowboat skimmed silently past, with an eerie splash of the oars, manned by a trooper.

     In the Fort Pitt Hotel, the manager and 200 of his guests were marooned in upper floors, with all the lights out, and the waters flooding the pantry. They were taken out in rowboats in the early morning hours.

     At the same time, a darky danced on a street corner in his bare feet as he played a banjo and accepted pennies from the crowd. As he danced the edge of the flood splashed on the curb at his feet. And all around a swirling sea of muddy icy waters rose higher and higher.

     Today the flood is receding. The city has assumed a holiday atmosphere with thousands of motorists blocking all high ways. Hot dog stands lend a wild west touch to the scene. Food is scarce. ---”

13^th day – Saturday – 21^st

Cold with snow flurries.

     Finish shop picture A.m. Grimshaw & his assistant Brenneman in to see it at noon. Mail picture at 1:00. After lunch drive to [Tyrone] to see effects of flood. Rather surprisingly