Delta Mu and the Flood of 1997

By Brother Richard A. Fransen 1999 Initiate

There are two ways to look at Grand Forks' Flood of 1997. It marked the end of an era in both the city and the Delta-Mu chapter of Kappa Sigma Fraternity. A large number of Grand Forks' historical structures, including our chapter house at 2510 University Avenue fell victim to the wrath of the water and flames. Visible immediately after the flood was the water filled basement. Railroad ties and garbage, that had no earthly business being there, littered the front yard and cars were strewn about the street and parking lot in front of the house. The flood marked tragedy, but it simultaneously marked rebirth.

It was about a week after having been evacuated that I was able to return to Grand Forks. Every boulevard in town was piled with trash. Automobiles with condensation-filled windows, large pieces of debris, the constant buzz of generators and pumps, and doors and windows propped open with fans in them trying to exhaust the dank, putrid stank of must from homes and businesses were seen and heard everywhere. Very few structures were left unaffected by what Mayor Pat Owens referred to as the largest per capita disaster in the history of the United States.

The signs of impending disaster existed the entire winter. Six feet of snow filled every yard in town and every farm field up and down the Red River Valley. We all knew that that spring would be bad, but somehow everyone underestimated Mother Nature. Neither the National Weather Service nor the town's residents could fathom the consequences of a Red River crest of fifty-two feet. The magnitude of the situation finally hit me when I was working on building sandbag dikes that were ten feet tall and plumb full of water on the other side. Seldom do you willingly risk your life every day for a month while constantly worrying about what you are going to do if the dyke directly in front of you fails. My only thought was, "Ok Rich, how fast can you run?" I tried to push these thoughts to the back of my mind

The entire winter of 1996-97 was harsh. Grand Forks and the Red River Valley were pummeled by seven blizzards. The cities of East Grand Forks and Grand Forks partnered to create "Sandbag Central" where volunteers began filling sandbags by the millions in the middle of March 1997. The filling continued at a feverish clip into the first week of April. Those who experienced that winter will vividly recall the events of that first week of April.

What began as an early spring thunderstorm turned into the mother of all blizzards. The Grand Forks Herald dubbed this storm Blizzard Hannah. The vicious wind easily snapped thousands of ice-covered trees and power poles. Thousands of people throughout the area were left without power and heat for up to two weeks while they were snowed into their homes. The Kappa Sigma house was left without power for only a couple of nights. These dark, cold nights were passed by conversation and playing games in the dark. As I recall, there were several Kappa Alpha Theta sorority members that played these games as well. Use your imagination. The fact is the staff of United Hospital's maternity unit was overwhelmed about nine months later.

The storm also destroyed the thousands of sandbags that had already been placed along the rising river's banks. The severity of the situation increased a thousand-fold. Deep down, everyone realized the hopelessness of the situation, but we still refused to let the river take our city without one hell of a fight.

Prior the storm, the National Weather Service had placed their crest prediction for the Red River at 47 feet. In the days immediately following Blizzard Hannah, the NWS held with this forecast. Logic says that this prediction was obviously flawed, but it did provide reassurance that the river could be contained. Beginning immediately after the brunt of the storm had passed, the city begged for volunteers to fill sandbags. At this point, catastrophic flooding had already begun in the southern portion of the Valley and this too provided a glimpse of what this city would be battling within the following week or two.

The level of disbelief and urgency from this moment forward rose nearly as fast as the river did. Schools and businesses throughout the area closed or shut down early every day so more people could be thrown at the sandbagging effort. My first day of actual dyke building was targeted upon the area immediately west of Smith Hall. I joined Craig Hashbarger, our current Grand Master in the fight to save his dorm from the rising English Coulee. It was really a battle on two fronts. The rising Red River threatened everyone. The English Coulee to the west posed the most immediate danger to the University of North Dakota though.

The week prior to evacuation is easy to sum up. We sandbagged and tried to work in our sleep. Every morning, the men of Kappa Sigma walked down to the bus stop in front of the Memorial Union so that we could be bussed to the sandbagging sites. We threw sandbags until our arms, legs, and backs ached and then just kept on going. I don't think that it is an overstatement to say that I threw 20,000 sandbags that week. It was the most exhausting work that I've ever done both physically and emotionally.

During the middle of that week, the evacuations began. One by one, the dykes began to fail and the blare from air raid sirens cut through the eerie silence that consumed the city. It was utterly depressing, but there was no time for tears. There was not time to think; we simply reacted. We did what needed to be done. Sleeping with one eye opened, we listened to KCNN, the only radio station on the air for any new reports of disaster or pleas for volunteers. By Thursday, the bridges connecting Grand Forks and East Grand Forks had been submerged.

Friday was my last full day in Grand Forks. My mother called me that morning begging for me to leave town; I laugh every time I think about this phone call. While speaking to her, Scott Miklavich ran down the hall of the fraternity house and jokingly yelled "We're all gonna die!" Having heard this, my mother flipped and Scotty spent the next ten minutes or so on the phone with my mother apologizing. With that exception, the day was spent just as the previous ten or so had been. We were bussed to the site. The bus stopped at the point where the water became too deep to drive through. We jumped from the bus into the scoop of a front-end loader and were taken the rest of the way to the dykes. We sandbagged until about midnight that night in Grand Forks' Burke Addition. At that time, we were ordered to get back on the bus and go home. No one told us that things had turned for the worse, but it was heavily implied. We arrived at the Civic Auditorium in downtown Grand Forks. Little did anyone know that that very place would be submerged in five feet of water by the time the sun came up on Saturday morning.

We returned to the house that night and spent the next several hours passing the time by talking amongst each other in the basement. This was the last time that I was in that finished basement. For rather obvious reasons, not a single person could sleep. We talked about our experiences and filled every available container with water as the water plant was in the process of being inundated. In retrospect it seems strange that the town was going under and we were still sitting there stocking up on water so we could weather the thing.

I convinced myself that I was not going to go to sleep that night, but I did finally succumb to the exhaustion around four in the morning. I awoke that Saturday morning to Scotty telling me to leave town. I had had no intention of leaving the city, but the urgency in his voice quickly changed my mind. Without realizing that I would be gone for a week, I quickly packed for two days. Of course, I also grabbed the essential CD's and CD player and headed for dry ground.

During the few hours that I had slept, things had gone straight to hell to say the least. Water, backed up through the city's sewer system, had covered all but the crown portion of University Avenue. Passing by the Chester Fritz Auditorium, I noted that the Coulee had overtaken the dykes that we had spent weeks preparing. Somehow, I made it to the interstate. Driving south on the interstate, traffic was diverted to the west because the interstate itself was under water. After leaving the interstate, traffic was jammed all the way south to Interstate 94 with people leaving Grand Forks.

My drive home was six hours long. It was my first opportunity to finally think about all that had happened in the previous week and to wonder exactly what would be left of my hometown when I returned. That was the day that President Clinton came to the Air Force Base to speak to flood refugees who had taken up shelter in the aircraft hangars. I listened to his speech on the radio.

The following morning, upon waking up at home I heard that there was a fire in the downtown area. This is the same fire that made national headlines and that consumed a good portion of downtown Grand Forks. Seldom does an event in North Dakota make the national news, but Grand Forks was the lead story for a week. Hell and high water made for good television.

The basement of the Kappa Sigma house was destroyed by the flood, but brothers continued to live in the house until August 23, 1999 when S.L. McHenry placed the placard on the door formally condemning the house. The last Kappa Sigs to live in the chapter house were Josh Hensch, Drew Nussbaum, Allan Jungels, Casey Haden, and Brendan Gilmore. I vividly remember being at the chapter house late that night and early into the next morning helping them move out.

With that, nearly seventy years of Delta-Mu history within that house came to an end. At the beginning of this writing, I noted that there are two ways to view the events and consequences of our great flood. The first was to look at all the bad, which I have done my best to reconstruct thus far.

Seventy years of history had come to an end, but a new era had begun at Delta-Mu and 2510. The last brothers to move out of the chapter house took up residence at what became known as the R2D. While not formally "The House," the R2D gave brothers the opportunity to continue living together. In retrospect, this was vital in the survival of the chapter. Shortly after The Flood, fundraising had begun on a new chapter house to be built on the same property. The new chapter house was finished in late December 2001. The Delta-Mu actives moved into the house on January 7th 2002.