Published: July 14, 2007 11:10 pm      

Faces of the Flood: ‘Never underestimate the social network’

Latest in a series on the 1977 Johnstown Flood

After the devastating flood of July 1977, Gilbert Weakland received an unannounced visit from James Hogan, then the bishop of Altoona-Johnstown Catholic Diocese.

“He said, ‘Gilbert, I have a check here – some money to help the disaster victims,’ ” said Weakland, who at the time was in charge of Catholic Charities’ Johnstown office on Lincoln Street.

The bishop sat the folded check on a desk. Weakland picked it up and placed it in his wallet.

Four days later, over breakfast with his wife, Weakland finally opened the check. It was made out for $350,000.

That cash, along with $250,000 from Greater Johnstown Community Chest, was the seed money for what soon was called the ’77 Flood Relief Center.

The center’s newly minted administrator found a headquarters on Chestnut Street. But on the day the facility was set to open, Weakland had to close it temporarily.

The relief center simply was not ready.

“I had to go out – it was the hardest thing I think I did in the flood – and tell these people lined up in the doorway, ‘You’re going to have to wait. We’re going to need a couple more days,’ ” Weakland said.

But it wasn’t long before the center was up and running. And it grew quickly, with some staff members simply walking in off the street to fill positions.

Others were sent to Johnstown from outside the area. Somehow, the impromptu work force gelled, transforming into a team with a mission to alleviate the chaos outside the center’s door.

“We then had a focal point,” Weakland said. “We had an identified point where people could come in who wanted to help, volunteer, give money, whatever they wanted to do for the disaster response.

“And that flood center just grew and grew and grew as a result of that.”

Staff worked at the office and in the field, coordinating manpower, money and other aid that was flowing into Johnstown while trying to make sure residents had what they needed.

Those needs changed on an almost-daily basis.

“One day you went down to the center, and it was no longer mops and buckets,” Weakland said. “It was now beds and refrigerators.”

Administrators also strove for some level of accountability, even as they tried to deliver help as quickly as possible.

It was a delicate balancing act, and they soon realized that some percentage of the center’s clients were receiving aid they did not necessarily need.

“We had to accept that,” Weakland said. “Because if we didn’t, we were losing too much time.”

In retrospect, that risk turned out to be relatively low.

“Our losses were minimal,” Weakland said. “People were basically honest. People are basically good. There are a few bad apples, but that’s the way life is.”

People from all walks of life passed through the center’s doors. Some were carrying a heavy burden, such as the man who asked Weakland for money to help bury his family.

A few potential clients were turned away, including an irate woman who demanded cash to replace Christmas decorations that had been in her flooded basement.

“I just said, ‘No way in hell,’ ” Weakland said.

He returned to his Catholic Charities job after a year, although the flood-relief center continued to provide assistance for residents for a few more years under two other directors.

Looking back, Weakland is not surprised by the massive amounts of assistance that governments, businesses, churches and private individuals poured into Johnstown after the flood.

He recalls the words of a former teacher: “Never underestimate the social network.”