John Parke may have been the inspiration for the “Peerless Rider.” Read his own words below. How well does it match the “Paul Revere” stories? How was Parke’s ride different than the one Daniel Periton was supposed to have taken?
“By 11:30 I had made up my mind that it was impossible to save the dam, and getting on my horse I galloped down the road to South Fork to warn the people of their danger. The telegraph tower is a mile from the town, and I sent two men there to have messages sent to Johnstown and other points below. I heard that the lady operator fainted when she sent off the news and had to be carried off. The people at South Fork had ample time to get to the high ground and they were able to move their furniture too. In fact only one person was drowned at South Fork, and he while attempting to fish something from the flood as it rolled by. It was just twelve o’clock when the telegraph messages were sent out, so that the people of Johnstown had over three hours’ warning.
As I rode back to the dam I expected almost every moment to meet the lake coming down on me, but the dam was still intact, although the water had reached the top. At about one o’clock I walked over the dam; at that time the water was three inches deep on it, and was gradually eating away the earth on the outer face. As the stream rolled down the outer face it kept wearing down the edge of the embankment, and I saw it was merely a question of time. I then went up to the clubhouse and got dinner, and when I returned I saw that a good deal more of the outer edge of the dam had crumbled away…
The break took place at three o’clock. It was about ten feet wide and first and shallow, but now that the flood had made a gap, it grew wider with increasing rapidity, and the lake went roaring down the valley.”
John G. Parke, who will be known hereafter as the “Paul Revere” of South Fork, is 22 years of age, and was in the employ of Wilkins & Powell, engineers and architects of Pittsburgh. His mother only received the telegraphic announcement of his safety on the evening of Wednesday, the 5th of June, the disaster occurring the previous Friday. Mr. Parke studied civil engineering in the University of Pennsylvania, graduating three years ago. He was a resident of Philadelphia until recently. He is a nephew and namesake of General John G. Parke, United States Army, who is now in command at West Point Military Academy.
….In times of calamity there are those whose nature is so heroic as to forget their own peril in the desire to save others. Regardless of personal safety, they fly to the rescue. Some of these supreme ones have become immortalized in art and epic verse, but best of all in the hearts of mankind. Conemaugh Valley furnished many who will never be immortalized in song and story.
When a newspaper employs a correspondent, or the correspondent undertakes to manufacture a hero for a stipulated price, those who know of the fraud should expose it — especially if the conclusions, which will inevitably be drawn from it, reflect upon the common sense of the sufferers in the calamity.
A story was published in a leading daily and reprinted over the world of an alleged young hero who is said to have seized a horse and rode with speed through the valley and streets of Johnstown, warning people of the coming flood, crying, “To the hills; the dam has broken.” It was said he did not leave the lowlands until he had completed the circuit of the city, and with the leaping, rolling flood fast upon his track sought to reach the hills, but was overwhelmed and drowned. I give my readers a part of this story from one of the books, as a specimen of imaginative heroism: “At last he completed the circuit of the city, and started in search of a place of safety for himself. To the hills he urged his noble steed.
Tired out from its awful ride, the animal became slower and slower at every stride, while the water continued to come faster and faster in pursuit. Like an assassin upon the trail of its victime, it gained step by step upon the intrepid rider. But the hills are in sight, Yes, he will gain them in safety. No, he is doomed; for at that moment a mighty wave, blacker and angrier than the rest, overtook horse and rider, and drew both back into the outstretched arms of death.” This fate was very necessary to the story, as ti rendered an interview of the hero by another impossible.
He was called “The Paul Revere of Johnstown.” The name of the imaginary hero was Daniel Peyton. Everybody outside of Conemaugh believed the story. Consequently, great surprise was expressed that the people did not heed the warning and escape to the hills — that they could be so deaf to it thus publicly and heroically given. We were condemned for our supposed heedlessness or unbelief.
The answer which we make to this is, that there is not one word of truth in the story from beginning to end. There was not a single incident which could authorize or justify the tragic story. The great daily that published it was either imposed upon, or committed a gross fraud upon the world and perpetuated a cruel myth upon our people. Close investigation has not been able to locate Daniel Peyton anywhere in the Conemaugh Valley. The circumstances were all against the possibility of such an occurrence.
The South Fork dam and lake are nine miles in a straight line from Johnstown, and over fourteen miles by the turnpike. This road is the only way by which it is possible to ride from the lake to the city. The greatest speed of a horse for that distance would not accomplish the ride in less than a hour. Then the ride through the streets of Johnstown, provided man and horse were not exhausted, would occupy fifteen minutes more. Now, after the dam broke, the flood traveled as fast as the horse could run. The time of its passage was about 25 minutes, and the entire destruction occupied not more than a half an hour. But the street of Johnstown, besides the greater part of the Valley road, were under water. During the hours when this famous hero is said to have galloped through them, there were from four to six feet of water in all our streets; and the housekeepers were engaged in removing carpets and furniture from their lower floors. The impossibility of a horse galloping through Johnstown between noon and 4 o’clock is at once apparent.
The fact is, that while there had been for years uneasiness in the public mind concerning the South Fork dam, when the flood came it was as sudden as an earthquake. The narratives of our most calm and intelligent citizens which this book contains show this. It was, as they all describe it, “one moment life, the next one death.”
From Through the Johnstown Flood, Rev. David Beale, 1890, pp 405-408.
