Dramatic Storm Rips Homes off Foundations

By JOHN E. GOODENBERGER

The Dr. Charles and Minnie Barr residence at 510 Duane St., right, and the Roy and Essie Young residence at 534 Duane, left, are two houses which survived landslides in 1916.

It was Feb. 1, 1916. For those who likened wide-open Astoria to Sodom and Gomorrah, God appeared intent on washing the whole wicked city into the Columbia River’s gaping mouth.

Honestly, an Irwin Allen film would have had a hard time improving on the pandemonium.

Weather alternated between snow flurries, silver thaw and frog-drowning rain. Astorians were marooned from Portland both physically – landslides blocked both the railroad and the new Columbia River Highway – and electronically – icicles pulled down both telephone and telegraph wires.

Despite volumes of water sloshing down Astoria’s denuded hillside, the Astoria Evening Budget declared the town was threatened by a “water famine.” A landslide had simultaneously destroyed both the road leading to the reservoir and the water pipe leading from it. Its effects were felt immediately.

The Hammond Mill, which generated electricity for the city, did not have enough water pressure to operate its boilers. As the reservoir’s water supply diminished, the danger of fire increased proportionately. Lack of water pressure meant fires – which would most certainly occur because everyone lacked electricity – would be more difficult to combat. In the meantime, homeowners were burning candles, lighting kerosine and cooking over open flames.

But, there was more trouble. Mudslides erupted throughout the city. Citizens hunkered down after four inches of rain splashed down upon them in a 12-hour period. According to “Observer Gilmore” of the local weather bureau, another four inches were expected during the night.

Within 48 hours, scarcely a district in the city survived without damage. Multiple slides occurred in the east end of Astoria, spilling onto the terminus of the Columbia River Highway. Franklin Avenue, between 31st and 32nd streets, bulged. A blocked drain filled basements at 29th Street and Grand Avenue. A sewer parted and spewed its contents over Sixth Street between Franklin Avenue and Exchange Street.

An old landslide on First and Commercial streets reawakened as an embankment fell into the right-of-way. Bulkheads on West Commercial also gave way. Roughly 50 feet of mud slogged onto Alameda Avenue, just above the Union Fisherman Cannery. Another heavy slide blocked the entire road around Smith Point. And, ground gave way at First Street and Bond Avenue, “as if in sympathy with the other earth movement.”

People in peril
There was plenty of human interest, too. Judge Thomas Cornelius, for instance, narrowly escaped being crushed while commuting Nehalem Road (State Highway 202). Nearly 100 feet of cliff loosened, fell, then caught the back wheel of Cornelius’ vehicle. The judge was uninjured.

Several houses were damaged in the slides. The home of “Night Watchman Youngsted,” who worked for the Clatsop Mill, was the first to go. Located at 27th Street and Franklin Avenue, the house stood on a six-foot foundation.

A ravine to the south funneled large amounts of water down Coxcomb Hill. The embankment directly above Youngsted’s house gave way, plunging his residence into the middle of the street. The following day, three neighboring houses followed suit.

Then on Alameda near Kingston Avenue, John Jaaskelainen probably wished he hadn’t cut into the hillside while making room for a basement. Passing streetcar operators, who were used to being chased by dogs, watched in disbelief.

The hill collapsed, bringing 100 tons of mud, the John Jaaskelainen family and their entire house careening into the roadway – in direct pursuit of the trolley.

The carmen most certainly floored the accelerator and looked over their shoulders as the the tumbling, groaning house lurched forward and wrenched off the trolley’s back step. When the house and slide ceased, the carmen helped extract the uninjured Jaaskelainens through upper story windows.

Finally, a 50-foot wide, 300-foot long swath loosened above Fifth Street and Duane Avenue. Trees and rocks swept down the hill, grazing the residence of Edward C. Judd, ex-county judge and well-known lawyer. The Dr. Charles W. Barr residence was less fortunate. Dr. Barr, by the way, had recently completed a renovation which included a new concrete basement, porches, a summer house and fresh exterior paint.

The flood of debris hit the residence dead center, destroying all the windows on the west side and “crushing the entire wall like and eggshell.” As dirt filled the dining room, a piano and china cabinet were overturned. And, the entire house was lifted off its foundation, then tossed against the a neighboring house owned by Roy Young.

No people were injured; Dr. Barr was at work, his wife Minnie was at a funeral and their son was at school. Next door, Roy Young was out of town on business. His wife Essie was home with a maid; both survived with shattered nerves. The only casualty was the Barr’s pet opossum who was crushed when mud filled the cellar.

As the weather recessed, Astorians pulled themselves back together. New footings and foundations were constructed for the homes of John Jaaskelainen, Conrad Youngsted and his neighbors. The houses near Fifth and Duane streets were aided by the construction of a new flume. Dr. Barr excavated his house, put it back on its foundation and joined Roy Young in repairing their respective homes. Astorians, if nothing else, were survivors.

So are the houses. The Barr and Young residences stand today, hardly offering a clue to their dramatic past. In fact, the Barr house is entering a another phase. New owners, Michael and Gail Evans-Hatch, are lovingly renovating the structure – readying it for another adventure or at least the next winter storm.