at his Red Bluff service station. Peto
didn't have his license yet and since he
lived across town from his new job he
got his father to give him a lift to work.
He didn't have to be at work until 7:00
a.m., so they left the house at 6:45 a.m.
and made their way through the dark
streets to the service station.
Had they lived anywhere else it
would have already been light, but it
had been raining all night and the
atmosphere was a thick, muted gray.
As they approached rain-swollen
Sanderson Creek, Peto looked back
upstream and saw something odd. The
water in the creek stretched bank to
bank, lapping at the top, but that was-
n't what he was looking at. In the driz-
zly gray twilight he just could make out
a dark line across the top of the swiftly
flowing creek, rising high above the
creek bank, like a wall of black iron.
From his perspective it didn't seem to
be moving.
“What is that?" he asked his dad.
Mr. Perez looked away from the
road to where Peto was squinting. He,
too, squinted to identify the oddity,
then his eyes widened in horror.
“That's water, Hijo,” and he quickly
added, “We need to warn everyone!”
Peto could not believe his eyes. The
black wall was boiling and writhing, six
or seven feet above the already-full
creek. It was pushing debris ahead of
it, like a giant bull dozer, actually mov-
ing faster than the creek water below.
Everything was simply blotted out as
that massive wave moved forward.
Mr. Perez gunned the engine and
sped down the streets nearest the creek,
blowing his horn, both of them scream-
ing at the top of their lungs, trying to
wake up the neighborhood. Many of
these people were their family mem-
bers. They saw lights go on and heads
appear at windows to hear their mes-
sage, “Get out! Get out! Run to the
hills...the water is coming!”
• • • • •
When the black wall hit Sanderson,
it swept away the outlying homes that
clustered along the creek. Many folks
had stayed awake that night, fearing
that the water would jump the creek
banks and come into their homes.
They breathed a sigh of relief as the
water level dropped and they thought
the worst was over. Even the officials
thought there would be no more prob-
lems with the creek that night since the
rain was finally abating.
Then, without warning, the water
rose rapidly, six to eight feet in just five
minutes. The deluge had arrived!
Though many had evacuated earli-
er, there were some stubborn holdouts
who did not wish to leave, and others
who simply did not get the warning.
Those folks now found themselves in
mortal danger. Some scrambled to
rooftops to escape the water. Others
were forced to tear holes in their ceil-
Destroyed home with wool snagged in the weeds.
ings to get up and out to safety. Still
others were horrified to see their adobe
homes crumble in the raging torrent,
only to find themselves cast headlong
into the flood. Trying desperately to
find something to hold onto, many
saved themselves, but others perished
in the black waters.
One young boy, who had been
Orchid Cafe detroyed.
Cenizo
sleeping with his family in a collapsing
motel on the creek bank, grabbed for a
tree but had to let go when he saw a
snake sharing the limb. He grabbed at
another tree and saved himself, but
watched as his parents and four siblings
washed down the creek and were lost.
One young mother saved her tiny
daughter by stuffing her into the top
shelf of a closet. The tot’s father, how-
ever, only a few yards away and rush-
ing to get to them, was lost to the flood
and his body never found.
Bodies were found clear to the Rio
Grande, including a man at Eagle Pass,
some 176 miles away, and an infant
washed ashore at Laredo, almost 300
miles away.
As a final indignity, the water cut a
new channel through Santa Rita and
Cedar Grove Cemeteries southeast of
town, gouging out tombs, marker
stones and caskets and scattering
human remains down the creek for
miles. Only one marker stone was left
standing in Santa Rita Cemetery, and
both cemeteries looked as though they
had been bombed.
• • • • •
The final tally for the Sanderson
Flood of 1965 was 54 homes destroyed,
36 homes heavily damaged, 133 homes
moderately damaged, 21 mobile
homes destroyed, 27 businesses with
major damage, historic hundred-year-
old homes and buildings destroyed, a
wool warehouse destroyed and many
bags of wool burst, creating a surreal
landscape of fences, bridges, trees,
bushes and destroyed homes, festooned
with tufts of wool. The unbelievable
destruction at the cemeteries was bad
enough, but the worst tragedy was the
26 residents who lost their lives.
Can a small town survive such hor-
rific destruction? It wasn't easy, but
recovery efforts began almost immedi-
ately, by the citizens, neighboring
towns and cities, the Red Cross and
state and federal agencies. The boys of
Explorer Post 160 rescued 25 trapped
and injured children and rendered first
aid, all without having to be organized
or instructed. They had been training
for just such an emergency situation.
They and the Boy Scouts of Troop 166
proved invaluable in carrying messages
between officials in the blacked-out
community and distributing relief items
to the 300 homeless citizens.
It took years, but Sanderson
returned to a semblance of its former
self.
Future
continued on page 14
flooding was
Second Quarter 2015
13