‘It was a miracle’

BY ARLENE JOHNS
The Tribune-Democrat

July 08, 2007 12:14 am

— Editor’s note: Jerry Livingston was interviewed in April for this story about the events of July 19-20, 1977, at his former bar in Franklin. He told the reporter it was the first time he talked publicly about the night of the flood. Sadly, it also turned out to be his last. He died of cancer May 20.

Jerry Livingston lost everything he owned when water roared through Johnstown in 1977.
He lost his pride and joy – an orange Corvette. He lost his first bar – Jerry’s Place, the Franklin Borough watering hole where Paul Newman hung out in the movie “Slap Shot.” He also lost his home above the bar and all its contents.
But Livingston didn’t spend much time mourning his losses. He was comfortable in the fact that he had purchased flood insurance. And mostly, he felt grateful just to be alive.
He and nine patrons of his bar had spent a harrowing night, literally riding out the storm.
After 30 years, that night is never far from his memory.
July 19, 1977, started out as a nice, sunny day, Livingston recalled. He and a friend played 18 holes of golf in Ebensburg.
But by the time he got back to the bar it was raining relentlessly.
Livingston shot some pool with some of the 20 or so customers and kept an eye on baseball’s All-Star game on television.
Before long, a couple of Franklin firefighters came in and advised Livingston and everyone in the bar to get out and find a safer location.
“I went outside with them, and water was on the sidewalk, but I wasn’t really concerned,” Livingston said. He had seen it worse before.
About 10 people took the advice of the firefighters and left the bar.
The others decided to wait it out.
It didn’t take long for them to realize that they had made a mistake.
“In a matter of about 10 minutes, I looked out and water was up to the window,” Livingston recalled. “I advised everybody to go upstairs. We couldn’t get out.”
The little group climbed the steps to the second floor and went out onto a flat porch to watch the horrific scene play out in front of them.
A fire company with a ladder truck was across the street, but the rescuers were not able to get to those huddled above the bar.
The men later told Livingston they clocked the water rushing past the tavern at 80 mph.
When the flat roof started to pull away from the building, the 10 frightened people made a decision.
If the roof shifted any further, they would jump onto a vacant house next door.
No sooner had the decision been made, when Livingston said another transformer blew and the vacant house just started moving away.
“I don’t know what the end of the world would be,” Livingston said. “But that was a very scary night.”
At that point, the small group decided there was no way out and went back inside to await their fate.
“There was no way of escape,” Livingston said.
“We said our prayers.”
At one point during the evening, Livingston went downstairs and heard yelling from a neighboring house.
Firefighters on the porch of the nearby building had an idea and needed Livingston’s help.
Livingston broke a window so firefighters could push a ladder from the porch through the opening, allowing the trapped people to crawl across.
Before he could call the others to begin the rescue, the porch moved away and disappeared – ladder and all.
“(We had) two different escapes, and they both went away,” Livingston said.
Although Livingston did his best to keep the little band alive through the night, by morning one was missing.
Robert Stephens, a regular patron, often dropped in for a beer on his way home from work. That day he got off early and stopped by the bar.
“The last time I remember seeing him he was on the flat roof,” Livingston said.
No one remembers seeing Stephens fall into the water and there was some speculation that he may have gone back downstairs and tried to navigate his way to safety through the dangerous water.
His body was found months later, buried in mud near the Shell Plant.
Livingston was haunted by questions from those who wanted to know how a big German shepherd with the group survived, but Stephens did not.
“I told them ‘I wish I had an answer for you,’ ” Livingston said.
“If he wouldn’t have left work early,” he continued, his voice trailing off.
When daylight finally broke over the flooded valley, Livingston was told there were firefighters in the bar downstairs.
“I thought I was dreaming,” he reminisced. “I said ‘What? We’re still alive?’ ”
The scene below almost was too difficult to take in.
Half the building’s first floor was missing, and Livingston believes the whole structure dropped half a story.
A wedge of big rocks and timber had formed in front of Jerry’s Place.
Livingston believes the wedge saved the tavern while other buildings on both sides were gone.
“It was a miracle,” he said.
“In my mind there should be 10 more people on that list (of dead). I thank God there isn’t.”
The building eventually was knocked down. Authorities would not even allow Livingston back inside to collect any personal items.
“I had flood insurance,” he said “They said they wouldn’t pay. Said it was an act of God.
“I didn’t fight it. I was just happy to be alive.”
Livingston moved to Akron, Ohio, where he bought a bar that he ran for four years.
But he couldn’t escape his memories or his love for Johnstown.
He returned and opened a new Jerry’s Lounge.
“This is where I want to be,” he said.
Livingston said it’s hard to believe it’s been 30 years since that devastating July night.
“I try not to relive (it) too much,” he said. “I still have a lot of memories about it.”