Pastor of the Franklin Street Methodist Church, Chapman and his family lived in a parsonage in the middle of town. On the day of the flood, he opened his front door to see a boxcar rolling down the street with a man on top of it. The man grabbed for a tree limb and managed to make his way to the second floor of the Chapman home. The reverend quickly realized that the dam must have failed, and turned and yelled for his family to head for the attic. As the family scrambled for the stairs, Chapman rushed to the study to turn off the gas fire. The front door burst open and floodwater rushed in, chasing Chapman as he ran for the kitchen stairs. The family made it to safety in the attic, along with the man from the boxcar and a few others who had rescued themselves in a similar fashion.
But the rush of the floodwater was overpowering, and the survivors didn’t know if the house would hold. The force of the water tore the porches off the house and toppled bookcases and other furniture downstairs, making noises that terrified the group. “I think none of us was afraid to meet God, but we all felt willing to put it off until a more propitious time,” Chapman later wrote. Finally the noise subsided, and Chapman and the others looked out on “a scene of utter desolation.” Chapman’s church, the Franklin Street Methodist Church, had also survived. In fact, the church had borne the brunt of the flood wave, helping protect several buildings behind it – including the parsonage and Alma Hall.
