Published: July 16, 2007 11:11 pm            

'I don't worry anymore'

In 1979, Albert “Fuzz” and Liz Fatula moved into their new home.

It was an ordeal that took two years.

The Fatulas weren’t looking for a new home. But after 13 feet of water destroyed their Robindale house, they were left with no choice.

The evening of July 19 began like most nights. Albert was off to work the night shift as the maintenance foreman at Florence Mine 1.

“I drove the back roads because of all the water,” he said. “What normally was a 10- to 15-minute drive took me an hour and a half, and I wasn’t even sure I’d make it.”

He recalled the lightning being vivid. He compared it to streetlights in the sky.

Albert said that, when he was able to get into the mine, there was no electricity so the elevators were not working.

“I called the company in Johnstown and was told there was no way anyone could come out because Johnstown was a mess,” he said. “But I never really made the connection that something was wrong.”

When he emerged from the mine at 7 a.m. on July 20, the day was bright and sunny.

He knew nothing of the ordeal his wife and other family members had experienced during the night.

“Around 10 p.m., the streets started to flood, but we didn’t have any water problems yet,” Liz Fatula said. “But eventually, water starting to come through the basement windows and then it started to gush in.”

Liz got her daughter, who was home at the time, and headed outside to meet up with her one son.

“When I stepped outside, the water went up to my waist,” she said. “And when I got to the street, it went to my chest.”

She said she remembered wearing flip-flops and they kept coming off and popping up on the water’s surface.

“I kept putting them back on because I didn’t want to step on anything,” Liz said. “The adrenaline just kept me going and I was more worried about everyone else.”

The group was able to make its way to a family farm outside of town.

“I remember my son and nephew coming to me at work and telling me Robindale was flooded and to follow them to the farm,” Albert said.

There, five other families had rallied together to ride out the storm.

When the water went down, a foot of mud blanketed Robindale and the Fatulas’ two-story home was flattened.

“I cried when I saw it,” Liz said.

But they weren’t alone in their loss because what was once a sleepy, family-friendly town was reduced to nothing more than a waste land.

It didn’t take long for clean-up to begin, but in the end there was nothing left to save.

“Eventually, our house was torn down,” Albert said.

For the two months that followed, the family lived with Albert’s brother and tried to figure out what to do next.

The Department of Housing and Urban Development came in and set up trailers on a former turkey farm as temporary housing.

That land would become Robindale Heights – a community born out of the flood waters.

“Our trailer was on the site where our house is today,” Liz said. “When they started building the house, we were moved to Seward. So it was just very frustrating.”

Liz admitted that, when the house was first built, she worried every time a storm came through.

“I was afraid it could happen again,” she said. “But I don’t worry anymore.”

All that remains in the now-extinct Robindale is a power plant, built in the years following the flood.

And although some former residents say they would go back to old Robindale if given the chance, the Fatulas are perfectly content with the life they have built for themselves.

“We are happy here,” Albert said, “plus, we are out of the flood plane.”

        

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