Excerpt
Chapter 1: Welcome to Johnstown
In the valley between steep, green hills, the town of Johnstown buzzed with the sounds of clanging metal, hissing steam, and train whistles. The year was 1888, and Johnstown was growing fast. Trains rumbled in and out of the station all day long, delivering coal, steel, and people from other towns. Men in overalls walked to work with their lunch pails swinging at their sides. Horses pulled wagons down muddy streets. Smoke curled from tall chimneys and drifted across the sky like gray snakes.
Johnstown was not a quiet place. It was loud, busy, and full of energy. Most of the people who lived there worked hard every day in the steel mills or on the railroads. These jobs were tough, and the hours were long. Even so, workers were proud of what they built—especially the strong steel that was used to make buildings, bridges, and trains all across the country.
There weren’t many big cities nearby, but Johnstown felt important. You could walk down Main Street and find just about anything you needed: a barber for a haircut, a shoemaker to fix your boots, a bakery that sold warm bread, and a small shop that sold sweets wrapped in crinkly paper. Saturday was a favorite day for many families because that’s when they could visit the town market and buy apples, potatoes, and—if they had extra money—maybe even a pie.
Even though people worked hard, there was more to life than just jobs. Families gathered on porches after dinner. Kids played marbles, tag, or stickball in the dirt alleys. Some children helped their parents in the garden or ran errands to the store. Others went to school in one-room buildings where they sat at wooden desks, listened to their teacher read aloud, and practiced spelling on chalkboards.
The town was built near the joining of two rivers: the Little Conemaugh and the Stonycreek. These rivers met right in the middle of Johnstown and then flowed together into one bigger river. Back then, the rivers were both useful and risky. They helped power factories and carried logs and goods downstream. But during heavy rains, the water could rise quickly, turning the calm rivers into fast-moving danger.
The buildings in Johnstown weren’t tall or fancy. Most were made of wood, and some had brick walls. The homes were packed close together, especially near the steel mills where many workers lived. There weren’t many cars—those hadn’t become common yet. People walked where they needed to go, or they rode in wagons, carriages, or trains.
Life wasn’t always easy. There were no cell phones, of course, and no TV or internet. If you wanted to send a message, you wrote a letter or paid someone to deliver a telegram. People lit lamps with oil and heated their homes with coal or wood. Baths weren’t taken every day, and hot water had to be heated on the stove. It took time and effort just to cook a meal or wash clothes.
Still, families found joy in the little things. A picnic in the hills. A song played on a piano. A new pair of shoes. Boys and girls made their own fun—whittling sticks into toys, building forts from scrap wood, or playing in the fields outside town. In the winter, when snow covered the hills, children slid down on sleds and threw snowballs until their mittens were soaked through.
There were churches on nearly every corner, and bells rang on Sunday mornings to call people to service. Religion was important to many families, and so was helping each other. If someone’s barn caught fire, neighbors came running. If a family was sick, others brought soup or watched their children. People relied on one another, and there was a strong sense of community.
Many of the adults who lived in Johnstown had come from far away—places like Germany, Ireland, and Hungary. They spoke different languages and brought their own traditions with them. Some cooked spicy sausages, others baked special breads. Even though they came from different backgrounds, they were now all part of Johnstown, trying to make better lives for themselves and their families.
If you had walked through the town just a few years before the flood, you might have seen workers pushing wheelbarrows, children walking to school in hand-me-down coats, and shopkeepers sweeping their doorways clean. You might have heard the clang of hammers in the mills or the whistle of a train heading into the mountains.
At night, the town glowed with the soft light of lanterns and the hum of conversation. Fathers read the newspaper aloud while mothers mended clothes. Older kids did chores, and younger ones fell asleep to the sound of crickets and river water rushing nearby.
In the valley between steep, green hills, the town of Johnstown buzzed with the sounds of clanging metal, hissing steam, and train whistles. The year was 1888, and Johnstown was growing fast. Trains rumbled in and out of the station all day long, delivering coal, steel, and people from other towns. Men in overalls walked to work with their lunch pails swinging at their sides. Horses pulled wagons down muddy streets. Smoke curled from tall chimneys and drifted across the sky like gray snakes.
Johnstown was not a quiet place. It was loud, busy, and full of energy. Most of the people who lived there worked hard every day in the steel mills or on the railroads. These jobs were tough, and the hours were long. Even so, workers were proud of what they built—especially the strong steel that was used to make buildings, bridges, and trains all across the country.
There weren’t many big cities nearby, but Johnstown felt important. You could walk down Main Street and find just about anything you needed: a barber for a haircut, a shoemaker to fix your boots, a bakery that sold warm bread, and a small shop that sold sweets wrapped in crinkly paper. Saturday was a favorite day for many families because that’s when they could visit the town market and buy apples, potatoes, and—if they had extra money—maybe even a pie.
Even though people worked hard, there was more to life than just jobs. Families gathered on porches after dinner. Kids played marbles, tag, or stickball in the dirt alleys. Some children helped their parents in the garden or ran errands to the store. Others went to school in one-room buildings where they sat at wooden desks, listened to their teacher read aloud, and practiced spelling on chalkboards.
The town was built near the joining of two rivers: the Little Conemaugh and the Stonycreek. These rivers met right in the middle of Johnstown and then flowed together into one bigger river. Back then, the rivers were both useful and risky. They helped power factories and carried logs and goods downstream. But during heavy rains, the water could rise quickly, turning the calm rivers into fast-moving danger.
The buildings in Johnstown weren’t tall or fancy. Most were made of wood, and some had brick walls. The homes were packed close together, especially near the steel mills where many workers lived. There weren’t many cars—those hadn’t become common yet. People walked where they needed to go, or they rode in wagons, carriages, or trains.
Life wasn’t always easy. There were no cell phones, of course, and no TV or internet. If you wanted to send a message, you wrote a letter or paid someone to deliver a telegram. People lit lamps with oil and heated their homes with coal or wood. Baths weren’t taken every day, and hot water had to be heated on the stove. It took time and effort just to cook a meal or wash clothes.
Still, families found joy in the little things. A picnic in the hills. A song played on a piano. A new pair of shoes. Boys and girls made their own fun—whittling sticks into toys, building forts from scrap wood, or playing in the fields outside town. In the winter, when snow covered the hills, children slid down on sleds and threw snowballs until their mittens were soaked through.
There were churches on nearly every corner, and bells rang on Sunday mornings to call people to service. Religion was important to many families, and so was helping each other. If someone’s barn caught fire, neighbors came running. If a family was sick, others brought soup or watched their children. People relied on one another, and there was a strong sense of community.
Many of the adults who lived in Johnstown had come from far away—places like Germany, Ireland, and Hungary. They spoke different languages and brought their own traditions with them. Some cooked spicy sausages, others baked special breads. Even though they came from different backgrounds, they were now all part of Johnstown, trying to make better lives for themselves and their families.
If you had walked through the town just a few years before the flood, you might have seen workers pushing wheelbarrows, children walking to school in hand-me-down coats, and shopkeepers sweeping their doorways clean. You might have heard the clang of hammers in the mills or the whistle of a train heading into the mountains.
At night, the town glowed with the soft light of lanterns and the hum of conversation. Fathers read the newspaper aloud while mothers mended clothes. Older kids did chores, and younger ones fell asleep to the sound of crickets and river water rushing nearby.