dueling with a deluge
As darkness fell on the Collegiate campus Monday evening, Glen Dandridge stood shovel in hand at the south end of Nunnally Hall and watched torrents of rainwater wash down a flight of concrete steps and, thankfully, past the entrance to Cougar Care. The 6-6 giant of a man who serves as manager of transportation and maintenance had battled the deluge created by Tropical Storm Gaston for the better part of two hours.
Now, finally, he was seeing the fruits of his labor.
His adventure began when the workers in the day care called him as water began to seep under the doorway just as the last children were being picked up. When he arrived, they and Lindy Williams, David Colón, and Alex Peavey – a trio of administrators working late – were stuffing towels at the bottom of the doors, but to no avail. He summoned Joan Hamlin and Louie Rowlett, members of the night housekeeping crew, who went to work with Wet Vacs in an attempt to stop the water that was quickly inundating the hallway.
He secured a pump and fired it up. He grabbed the shovel from his pickup and began to dig trenches to divert the water from the doorway. The flood slowly subsided. He could finally rest. His clothes were soaked, and he was barefoot. “Walked right out of my shoes,” he said with a chuckle the next afternoon as he thought back on the moment.
What began as an expected heavy downpour surpassed everyone’s expectation and imagination. When practices were canceled, I met Parker Garrett, a 1997 graduate who’s a Navy officer stationed aboard a nuclear submarine (USS Topeka) for what we thought would be a fun run in the rain.
I’m not sure if it was the rushing, ankle-deep water on El Dorado Drive two blocks east of campus or our return over a completely submerged footbridge that got our attention. When we finally called it a day, the creeks that flow north-south and east-west through the campus were flooding the parking lots near the Jacobs Gym where about a dozen cars were still parked.
As the storm intensified, the gym road became a swiftly flowing river. One by one, those who realized their cars were in danger quickly materialized and literally waded out to move them. There was Upper School head Jon Brougham, still in the shoes and clothes he wore to school, slipping into Susan Epps’ partially submerged Saab and driving it to safety. There was athletic director Charlie McFall, pants legs rolled up above his knees, clambering to Alexis Newbrand’s Saturn, settling into a completely soaked driver’s seat, and steering it out of the deepening pool.
The next day, all was calm.
There was Alexis retrieving what she could salvage, showing me the water line midway up the seats, and waiting for the tow truck. On the east side of the athletic center, there were Wilbur Athey, Jesse Garrant, Bryan Voltz, Arthur Johnson, Calvin Yates, and George Cooke teaming up with a power washer, leaf blower, and brooms to remove the brown silt (which created a camouflage effect) from six of the eight green tennis courts. Other than a few leaks here and there, there was no other damage, and when we returned Wednesday to begin classes a day later than scheduled, the campus had been returned to its antediluvian appearance.
In 2001, the events of 9/11 rocked the world. The snipers terrorized the Mid-Atlantic region in the fall of 2002, and a year ago Hurricane Isabel left an indelible impression. It’s tempting to say, “Here we go again…,” but to do so would be to take a pessimistic view.
The one similarity I see, as it relates to the Collegiate community, is that when our buildings are in danger and our friends in distress, everyone pulls together without regard for personal comfort or safety. “Once again, we saw the spirit here at Collegiate: roll up your sleeves and take one for the team,” said Brougham, the Upper School head. As he spoke Tuesday afternoon, rays of sunlight shown through the window in his office.
