In the great flood of January 1937, more than two–thirds of the area of Louisville, including the most populous districts in virtually all of the industrial centers, was covered with water from one to twenty feet deep.  In the shallowest depths, the water remained for twenty–four hours, and the greatest deaths for nearly two weeks.  Electric power failed, and the city was in darkness.  Telephone exchanges were flooded in the submerged districts, and thus was cut off the last link of communication between the marooned people and the world outside.

 

In Portland the disaster was appalling.  Homes were covered with water, and many swept away by the raging current.  The muddy torrent of the Ohio rose half way up the eaves of the church.  The interior of the building was completely ruined.  The floor was torn from its foundation, and as the water receded, it fell into the basement.  Side alters, statues, Stations of the Cross, pews, and other church furnishings were wrecked.  The school buildings suffered great damage.  Decks and equipment were lost.  The beautiful rectory, remodeled at great expense just a few years before, was also badly damaged, the water reaching twenty–two inches over the second floor.  The flood of 1937 was ten and a half feet higher than that of 1884.

 

 

The Record of March 4, 1937, printed the following:

 

Among all the suffering churches in our city during the flood–time, none was perhaps so grievously afflicted as the Church of Our Lady, which has been wrecked beyond the ability of members of its parish by their own efforts to restore because they too, almost every one, were likewise sufferers, sustaining losses to their homes, furniture, clothes, and such necessities of life as will take months, not to say years, to restore.  Fr. Bernard I. Doherty, devoted and energetic pastor of the Church of Our Lady, is doing everything within his power, begging all within reach of his appeal, to assist him and his people in restoring this historic church, one of the oldest in the city of Louisville.

 

At the advice of architects and engineers, the work of restoring the church was delayed until all danger of the building’s settling was past.  In February and March, through the kindness of the Franciscan Fathers at St. Anthony’s Church, the Sunday schedule of Masses was so arranged that Fr. Doherty could conduct services there for his congregation.  As soon as possible repairs were made in the school building, and the large class–room was converted into a temporary chapel.  On Easter Sunday Holy Mass was celebrated in Our Lady’s parish, the first time in nine weeks.  In the days that followed this schoolroom served as a church for the congregation.  Here daily Mass was offered and babies were baptized.  It was in this room at the little ones received their first Holy Communion and funeral services were held for five members of the parish.

 

In the meantime the people of Our Lady rallied to the support of their pastor, giving what remained of their worldly goods to restore the church.  Former members of the parish, many priests in their congregations, contributed generously.  The work of restoration was begun, and in August the Church of Our Lady was again opened for services.

 

 

The following is an account from Sr. Mary Winifried, a Sister of Mercy and teacher at Our Lady School.  At the time of the flood, she resided at St. Ann's Convent, located 2420 Portland Avenue.

 

January 24–31, 1937

 

The Sisters of St. Ann's became aware of the flood some time before Monday, January 18, when they noticed the waters from Bank Street flowing over to meet the waters from Portland Avenue. The currents met in St. Ann's yard and poured into the basement with a roar as deafening as that of Niagara Falls.

 

On Sunday, January 24, Mother advised the Sisters to leave. Thirty Sisters found shelter at the College, Presentation, and St. Helena's.  The eight remaining, Sisters Mary Pierre, Mechtildes, Maria Teresa, Mary Thedla, Jean Catherine, Esther Maria, Winifred Ann, and Frances Lucille, remained to guard the Blessed Sacrament until it could be removed from the Chapel.  Sr. Mary Pierre had been trying since Saturday to reach St. Cecilia's by phone for instructions about the Blessed Sacrament, but the telephone connection between the two places was dead.  On Monday, Sister called Father Cotton, explaining her inability to reach St. Cecilia's.  When she explained that it was Mother's wish that they leave, though they felt safe in remaining, Father advised that they wait a few days longer to see if the water would subside.  He gave Sister permission to remove the Blessed Sacrament to the second floor, in the event water should come in on the first floor.

 

The eight Sisters settled down to remain comfortably at St. Ann's, with plenty of provisions, candle light, and part-time water and gas.  Most of the days were spent watching the waters meet in the backyard, and huge army trucks going down Portland Avenue with provisions and returning with full loads of refugees.  Soon the waters rose so high that nothing but motor boats, row boats, and skiffs, in short, every conceivable kind of craft, was in use on Portland Avenue.  The Sisters felt quite secure with the protection promised them by the fire department across the street.  After the water reached a depth of seven feet and the firemen had to evacuate, the Sisters were left by the firemen under the protection of the Coast Guard and six able bodied men living next door to the Convent.

 

At about three o'clock on Wednesday, Mother Ann Sebastian phoned to tell Sr. Mary Pierre that she had been advised to have all the Sisters leave St. Ann's.  Mother explained to Sr. Mary Pierre that Father Cotton had approved their leaving and had directed that the Sisters take the Blessed Sacrament with them and leave it at the nearest church.  The relief agent at St. Joseph's Infirmary came on the line to say that a boat would call for the Sisters in from one to five hours.  Within an hour, everything was ready and the Sisters were waiting for the boatmen, each Sister wearing an abundance of clothing.  The Blessed Sacrament, in veils and encased in a

small leather receptacle, was on the altar, with lighted candles.  Here, the Sisters knelt in

prayer (with interruption) until the call came at 7:30 p.m. that the boat was at the lower gate.

 

The water here was six feet deep.  By means of a search light and calls from the Sisters, the men were directed how to reach the house, where the depth of the water was two and a half feet.  The men told the Sister to get blankets and pillows to be used in the boat for protection and warmth.  The gas was turned off; the house locked up.  It was eight o'clock before the men began to row them out.

 

The Sisters had been praying for moonlight, and even though it was dark earlier in the evening, as they started, out the moon appeared.  They directed their course up Portland Avenue one block, then turned over to Bank Street, proceeding up Bank to 20^th.  Passing the Good Shepherd Convent on Bank Street, they noticed the water was up to the top of the high wall surrounding the premises, with the Sisters marooned on the third floor.  The current was very swift, especially at the intersections, and it was almost impossible for the oarsmen to keep to the middle of the street.  They bumped into telegraph poles, traffic light standards, and even fences and houses.  At one time, the boat tipped so much that it almost filled with water.  One man steadied it by holding on to the street sign until his two companions had emptied out gallons of water.  By that time, some of the Sisters were wet up to their knees.

 

Turning 20^th Street to Rowan, the boat hit a pole with such force that it (the boat) was broken crosswise in two pieces. The smaller part sank and some of the Sisters floated with the current. Sr. Maria Teresa, who was carrying the Blessed Sacrament, was among those who were adrift.  The others adrift were Sisters Mary Thelda, Mechtildes, Joan Catherine, and Winifred Ann.  Sr. Mary Pierre was clinging to the floating suitcase and the end of the boat, while Sisters Esther Maria and Frances Lucille clung tightly with arms and legs to a pole.  Sr. Mary Pierre could see that Sr. Maria Teresa was clasping the leather receptacle containing the Blessed Sacrament, holding it aloft until she was rescued, although she sank twice.  They got those who were floating first, took them to a house and broke open a door in order to enter.

 

In the meantime, one of the other men had broken into another house and sheltered two Sisters there.  When one of the oarsmen said to Sr. Frances Lucille, “Hold on tight, don't let go of me,” Sister replied, “Man, I wouldn't let go of you for a million dollars.”  They soon had a fire; chairs having been broken up for fuel.  Sisters Mary Pierre, Esther Maria, and Frances Lucille were the last to be rescued.  When Sr. Mary Pierre was taken into the house, she found five Sisters praying before the Blessed Sacrament.  Sr. Mary Winifred repeatedly broke in with “Lord, Let one of us live to tell the tale!”

 

Sr. Mary Pierre was immediately alarmed when she discovered that there were only six Sisters in the house to which she had been taken, and even though assured by a policeman that the other Sisters were in an adjacent house, she could not rest satisfied until all eight of them had been transported to another motor boat.  This boat (a New York relief boat) had accidentally, and not in answer to repeated shouts and siren calls, come along.  It was taking Dr. Bryan of the Brown Hotel on an urgent sick call, and fortunately, it was a government boat and well manned.  It was so large that it could not come close to the house, so the Sisters were taken to it, one at a time, in small skiffs.  The Sisters felt secure when they got into this boat.  It was here that Sr. Mary Pierre held up her skirts so that she could navigate, and went around counting head to satisfy herself that there were eight.

 

Sr. Mary Pierre's fears were again awakened when, on asking to be taken to St. Joseph's Infirmary, she was told that they would have to go to the City Hospital, the City Hall, or the Deaconess Hospital.  Noticing Sister's hesitation, the men suggested the Good Shepherd Convent, and Sister gladly acquiesced.  A young man aboard the boat, who had been marooned in the park all day awaiting transportation, knew the neighborhood and continued to call the names of the streets to the captain until they reached the 18^th and Broadway relief station.  Another man aboard, a Jew, warned those navigating the boat to be especially careful of Sr. Maria Teresa, as she was carrying “the Sacrament”.

 

At the relief station, the Sisters were transferred to covered trucks.  Sr. Mary Mechtildes, who seemed quite exhausted, was stretched out under covers on the floor of the truck.  She had lost her cap and bonnet in the water.  The doctor accompanied the Sisters to the Good Shepherd Convent and ordered that Sr. Mary Mechtildes be put to bed at once.  The Blessed Sacrament was put away immediately upon arrival.  It had been found intact.  Deo Gratias!  The other Sisters, with their heavy clinging, dripping clothes, stood around the stove to get warm and after being given hot drinks were taken to bed.  Morning dawned, but the Sisters did not rise for prayers.  The only clothing they had was drying out, so there was only one alternative.  The Sisters of the Good Shepherd could not have been kinder; they exhausted themselves in providing for the Sisters and anticipated their every need.

 

On Sunday morning, word came that a truck or an ambulance would be sent for the Sisters, since the water was down, and that they were to be conveyed to St. Joseph's Infirmary.  Here automobiles were to meet them and take them to Nazareth.  The Sisters of the Good Shepherd bade them a most affectionate farewell and seemed greatly concerned about their safe passage to St. Joseph's.  They reached the Infirmary at about 4:30pm, when an amusing scene followed.  Their guide, an army man, entered with the Sisters, escorting them with the same rigid precision with which he had carried out previous orders given him under martial law.  None of the Sisters standing by to greet the eight refugees was allowed to come near them, and the eight had been warned to speak to no one.  For all the world, they looked like immigrants taken from Ellis Island.  The Sisters were detained at the Infirmary only long enough to be greeted, given refreshment, and sent on their way rejoicing to Nazareth.  Words are inadequate to describe the welcome these refugees received at Nazareth, the Motherhouse.

 

 

 

 

 

From The Record, September 16, 1937:

 

The Church of Our Lady today is a revelation to those who saw it after fifteen feet of water rule in the pews, side authors, Stations of the Cross, and so forth, and crashed the floor into the cellar, caring pipes and heaters with it.  Though much remains to be done, the historic church is more substantial today than for many years.

 

Wood floor has been replaced with concrete, and terrazzo for the sanctuary and steps.  The new pews are of walnut, as are the choir rail and paneling at the back of the church.  Water paint hides the flood marks on the walls.  The broken crucifix and broken stations have been mended and all painted.  Every piece of pipe and wood in the building that was possible to salvage has been utilized in repairs, and new items purchased only were necessary.  Among the latter are lovely side altars and communion rail of marble – all gifts of the parishioners, and new lighting fixtures.

 

Though seventy–five percent of the homes of the parishioners were submerged in the great flood, through heroic effort, and with the kind assistance of pastors and members of other parishes in the city, more than half of the needed funds have already been raised to put the church properties in good condition.  The high altar will not be painted until later, Fr. Doherty said.  The large statue of Our Lady, noted for its beauty, has been taken down from its place in the high altar to be painted and, for the first time, it was evident to many of the statue had been carved out of a solid block of wood.  It was imported from France many years ago.

 

An odd result of the flood was an improvement in the tone of the organ, believed to be due to dampness causing the swelling of tiny cracks of its parts.  The total cost of restoring the church property was in the neighborhood of $18,000.  Several thousand dollars of this amount was pledged by the members of the congregation.

 

Perhaps as a sign of divine providence, the water level in the sanctuary never reached beyond the feet of the statue of Our Lady, giving her the appearance of watching over the receding waters.

 

Scarcely was the work completed when Fr. Doherty was appointed pastor of St. Paul’s Church, on Jackson Street.  He left Our Lady’s on August 17, 1938.

 

               

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