Within a few days of the flood a rumor started spreading through the press about a “Paul Revere of Johnstown,” who rode down the valley on horseback warning people that the dam had broken and to “head for the hills.” He stayed at his mission to the very end, drowning in the flood, rather than heading for the hills himself.
The story soon made it into newspapers all over the world, and into the book The Johnstown Horror. No one was quite sure if his name was Daniel Peyton, Daniel Periton, or something else. The important thing is that he was selfless and brave, a real hero. At least two songwriters honored him with tribute songs.
Just one problem: none of the flood survivors remembered him! Worse, the moral of some of these stories was that the people of Johnstown had been warned the Flood was coming — but decided it was a false alarm and didn’t take shelter! How would you feel if people blamed you for the fact that you lost your home and family?
Read the primary source for “Paul Revere” and compare it with accounts from people who actually experienced the Flood. What parts of the true survivor stories might have been the inspiration for “Paul Revere”?
A Paul Revere lies somewhere among the dead. Who he is is now known, and his ride will be famous in history. Mounted on a grand, big horse, he came riding down the pike which passes through Conemaugh to Johnstown, like some angel wrath of old, shouting his warning: “Run for your lives to the hills!”
The people crowded out of their homes along the thickly settled streets awestruck and wondering. No one knew the ma, and some thought he was a maniac and laughed. On and on, at a deadly pace, he rode, and shrilly rang out his awful cry. In a few moments, however, there came a cloud of ruin down the broad street, down the narrow alleys, grinding, twisting, hurling, overturning, crashing — annihilating the weak and the strong. It was the charge of the flood, wearing its coronet of ruin and devastation, which grew at every instant of its progress. Forty feet high, some say, thirty according to others, was this sea, and it traveled with a swiftness like that which lay in the heels of Mercury.
On and on raced the rider, on and on rushed the wave. Dozens of people took heed of the warning and ran up to the hills.
Poor, faithful rider, it was an unequal contest. Just as he turned to cross the railroad bridge the mighty wall fell upon him, and horse, rider and bridge all went out into the chaos together.
A few feet further on several cars of the Pennsylvania Railroad train from Pittsburgh were caught up and hurried into the cauldron, and the heart of the town was reached.
The hero had turned neither to the right or left for himself, but rose on to death for his townsmen. He was overwhelmed by the current at the bridge and drowned. A party of searchers found the body of this man and his horse. He was still in the saddle. In a short time the man was identified as Daniel Periton, son of a merchant of Johnstown, a young man of remarkable courage. He is no longer the unknown hero, for the name of Daniel Periton will live in fame as long as the history of this calamity is remembered by the people of this country.
From the book The Johnstown Horror, 1889, Pages 190-192.
