Kansas State University - Royal Purple Yearbook (Manhattan, KS)

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Adam McDiffet, resident of the Northview area, takes a break from sandbagging in the Dix addition. The sandbag 9 feet high in some places, were raised only to collapse a few days later. (Photo by J. Kyle Wyatt) The Tuttle Creek Reservoir spillway floodgates were opened for the first time in history on Monday, July 18, with an outflow of 15,000 cubic feet per second. Within a week, the outflow from the spillway was increased to 60,000 cfs. (Photo by J Kyle Wyatt)

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A truck plowed through a frothy pool of filthy brown water, fighting to keep safe in the wake of the vehicle in front of it. Water rolled away to either side of its bumper, a determined washing over everything in its path. The truck shuddered, threatening to stall and leave the antique chair in the back stranded in the middle of flooded streets. Trucks piled with belongings, making their way through the perpetually water, a common occurrence as flood victims transported their possessions out of harms way. News of the flooding in Manhattan came as a shock to Ted Kadau, senior in journalism and mass communications. Kadau, who had been interning in Arkansas City, learned his trailer park was being evacuated by Trina Holmes while listening to KMKF-FM 101.5 at his girlfriend ' s house. The next day, July 19, Kadau and 15 other North Crest trailer park residents filled sandbags. I wanted to help, Kadau said. There were people sandbagging who didn ' t live here. When something like this happens, although you ' re not from Manhattan, you want to help people. Kadau found sandbagging his own trailer futile. This realization forced him to put his valuables as far off the floor as possibl e and leave the rest to chance. The reason floods suck so bad is you don ' t know what the hell to do, Kadau said. I mean, with a tornado you know it ' s coming and half an hour later it ' s gone. With a snowstorm, it comes and goes away. A flood creeps toward you inch by inch and when it hits you, it ruins all you have and there ' s nothing you can do about it. Residents weren ' t the only ones battling against the flood. At the Linear Park Blue River Access Recreation Area, city employees tried to keep the flood waters out of downtown Manhattan by building a dam across a gap in the levy made by railroad tracks. Most of the city workers have stopped doing their regular duties, said Terry Irwin, senior in industrial (Continued on page 18) Kadau, senior in journalism and mass communications, watches the flood waters as he drives his Dodge pickup loaded with possessions to higher ground. Kadau removed as many belongings as possible before Manhattan Avenue, the only traversable road between Hunter ' s Island and Manhattan, became completely submerged. Wildcat Creek flooded the area after Milford and Tuttle Creek spillways were opened because of rising water. (Photo by Brian W Kratzer) CREEPING INCH BY INCH INCH BY INCH flood waters invade Manhattan Water rushes out of the Tuttle Creek spillway July 19. The second day the spillway gates were opened 8 inches each, releasing about 20,000 cubic feet of water per second. When the gates were closed Aug. 9, the land south of the spillway had been worn away by the rushing water. (Photo by Cary Conover)

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A sword fish bike sits on a concrete railroad bridge support near the K-177 bridge over the Kansas River. The bicycle, which was one of several built by 1993 K-State graduate Steve Heter, served as a constant indicator of the rising water levels of the river. At the beginning of the summer, at least twenty feet of cement separa ted the bicycle from the water level. Another of Heter ' s bikes was washed away by the flood waters. (Photo by Cary Conover) FLOOD Dave Neff, Sedgwick, boats his son, Beu, and friends Megan Mitchen and Jennifer Clark back to town after doing chores for a vacationing rural family. Neff said that although he had to boat out to the farm, water in the barn was only ankle-deep, so the family ' s cattle stayed relatively dry. (Photo by David Mayes) A soybean plant remains flooded in a field near Casement and Barnes roads. many fields were too muddy to operate a in, harvest was delayed. to the Kansas Agricultural Statistics Report, by July4 only 40 of the wheat crop had been compared to 50 percent in 1992. (Photo by Cary Conover) (Continued from page 16) engineering. We ' ve worked on drains because they were flooding and then came straight out here. Irwin ' s job with the city ' s traffic department drastically changed, along with his hours. The scariest part was when I got called in late at night a couple of times to fix sewer pumps, Irwin said. It was lightning and raining — not real fun. Manhattan residents joined the city employees in the late night war with water. For some, battling the elements into the wee hours of the morning was the only way they could save their possessions and salvage their homes. The first night we sandbagged, it rained all night, said Diana Lewis, freshman in fine arts. With the wind blowing, it was really a good way to catch a cold. Protecting their possessions was easier for the Lewis family than others. Because Garland Lewis was the information processing director for KSU Housing and Dining Services, he was allowed to use K-State trucks to transport their belongings to a warehouse and different friends ' houses. Although their possessions were safe, they worried about their home on Violet Circle. We ' ve always lived in this house, said Rachael Lewis, junior in business administration. My parents have been here for 20 years. The Lewis family had seen mild flooding in their area before, but nothing like the water that prompted carloads of volunteer sandbaggers to pour into their neighborhood. It always floods in the farmer ' s field out back when they open the tubes, but it ' s never affected our house before. In some places in our backyard, the water ' s 10 feet deep and then in some places it ' s only 1 foot deep. Usually there ' s a little river behind our house, but nothing like that, Diana Lewis said, toward the sea of water held a foot away from the house by a 4-foot wall of sandbags. Some Manhattan residents who (Continued on page 21)