Vermont's Northland Journal

Remembering the Flood of 1927

By Scott Wheeler

Egnas Limoges, formerly of Newport, lived until he was almost 100 years old. Egnas died within the last year, but I haven’t forgotten him or all he taught me. Over a two year period he taught me much about the history of Orleans County that isn’t recorded in history books. The following is a portion of an interview from 1999 in which Mr. Limoges shared his memories of the Flood of 1927.

When Egnas Limoges and his brother, Bill, left their family’s farmhouse on the River Road in North Troy during the late afternoon of November 3, 1927, to head back to their boarding house in the Village of North Troy, it was raining hard, harder than either young man had ever seen it rain before. Little did they know, they were seeing the beginning of Vermont’s greatest natural disaster, the Flood of 1927, a flood that claimed the lives of more than 80 Vermonters, and caused $30-million damage to private and public property.

As the brothers drove along the River Road in a Model T Ford, Limoges said he and his brother realized the Missisquoi River, which runs alongside the road, was higher than they’d ever seen it. It wasn’t rare for the river to overflow its banks in the spring, but the river seldom flooded later in the year, especially in the fall, and never as much as he saw that afternoon, Limoges said. He figured the countless hours of relentless rain dropped just too much water for the land to absorb. Draining into the river, the water caused the river to overflow its banks many times over.

Nearing the village, the two men realized they were in serious trouble. Water began to wash over the road. First there were only a few inches. Anxiously driving along, the two men were getting nervous, especially as the water started lapping up to the underside of the car. With the water washing across the road up to three feet deep, being swept away became a real concern for the brothers. The situation went from bad to worse when the river water finally reached engine level, causing the engine to sputter to a halt as the water converged on the car’s engine.

Restarting the car proved fruitless. The Limoges brothers temporarily abandoned the car and waded out for high ground and help. With the help of a neighbor, and his team of horses, they pulled the car from the onslaught of water. Try as they did, the car wouldn’t start. The pair set out on foot the short distance back into the village.

Soaking from head to toe from the combination of heavy rains and their trek through waist high water, upon reaching the village their first stop was at a store where they bought dry sets of clothes. It wasn’t until reaching the store that Limoges said the magnitude of the disaster hit them. “People in the store were worried about the river,” Limoges said. “They had never seen it that high.”

The brothers then stopped by the mill where Egnas worked. He figured he and his brother could sleep there and wait out the storm. The mill’s owner would hear nothing of that. Located on the Missisquoi, the owner of the mill was in a panic mode. “Boys, you can’t stay here, we don’t know what’s going to happen,” the nervous mill owner told the Limoges brothers.

Reaching their boarding house, the brothers began to worry about their parents. Although the river had never reached up to the family homestead, they realized this was no typical flood. Yet, since it was early evening, and the river was continuing to rise, Limoges said there was nothing he and his brother could do but wait out the storm and pray. “I was really worried for them,” he said. “I didn’t get hardly any sleep.”

After a fitful sleep, the pair arose the next morning and set out on foot to their parents house. Now that the rain had stopped, they started to wonder if they had worried for nothing. However, nearing the river, they realized their concerns had been valid. The once gentle flowing Missisquoi was now a raging river, especially along the River Road.
“The water was to the tops of the telephone poles,”Limoges said. In all the years of living on the River Road, he had never seen anything like it before the flood, or in the decades following the flood.

Realizing that if their family was still alive, rescue by land would likely be impossible, the brothers rounded up a horse, a wagon, and a boat and headed toward the family homestead. When they finally caught sight of the house, they were shocked by the sight. To the brothers horror, the flood waters had pushed the house off its foundation allowing it to drift a short distance down stream. But even more horrifying was the sight of their parents and siblings standing on the porch roof with water already lapping at their heels. Then Limoges and his brother saw something that made their heart jump with joy - a rescue boat was headed toward the Limoges home. The boat docked at the top of the porch.
“I could see my folks were going on to a boat from the roof of the porch,” Limoges said. Somehow the rescuers had battled their way across the raging river to the family’s house - 250 feet down stream from where it had once stood. Limoges said he and his brother didn’t stop worrying until the boat hit dry land, fearing the river would overturn the boat, and send the family to a watery grave.

“My father was crying when he saw me,” Limoges said. “He thought he’d never see me again.”
Following his rescue, Limoges’ father recounted the events that led to his and his family’s rescue. Egnas Limoges said his father told him that as the swelling river neared the family’s farm - their livelihood - he had two choices, let the cows in the barn drown or get them out of the barn and let them seek high ground on their own. Convincing the cows out from the temporary shelter of the barn, into the driving rain, proved fruitless and frustrating.
“He’d take four or five cows out the door, then when he got three or four more they’d come back in,” Limoges said. All 35 cows and and handful of other farm animals drowned. “My father said, ‘You should have heard those cows bellow.” It was a sound that haunted his father for the rest of his life.

With no hope for the cows, Limoges’ father turned his attention to his wife and children. Now that the river completely surrounded the house, there was no escape. The family watched as the water covered the first step leading up to the porch, then the second, then the third etc., all the while hoping the tide would subside. Limoges said his family knew they were in real trouble when water began to flow into the farmhouse. They tried to hold the water at bay, but, in the end, their efforts failed, forcing them to retreat to the second floor. The family had little doubt they were now safe - that is, until they watched the river water slowly begin to creep up the stairs.

Knowing that his and his family’s lives were in jeopardy, Limoges said his father rang a bell in hopes of attracting the attention of would be rescuers. When that failed, he began shooting a revolver into the air. To make matters even more dire, the house began to slowly drift downstream - toward a dam.

Realizing that no man could save them at that point, the family, devout Catholics, turned to God for mercy. Picking up a statue of St. Anne, the mother of the Virgin Mary, Limoges’ father placed it on the next to the top step of the staircase. The family then prayed to God that the water would stop rising and the house would stop floating. Miraculously, their prayers came true. The water stopped rising and the house became caught up on a high spot of land. Come morning they saw the rescuers God had sent to fulfil the other portion of their prayer.
“The next day the water was all gone,” Limoges said. That’s when the real work began. Not only was there four feet of silt in the house, there was even a log. Yet, overall, the house was in good shape. The Red Cross gave the family $900 to help cover a portion of their clean up costs. People willingly and unselfishly pitched in to help familles affected by the flood, he said. His family was given free room and board in the village for the duration of the winter while they made their home livable.

His parents hired three or four men to help with the task of cleaning up. Meanwhile, his mother, with the help of other family members, used a hand washer to wash the family’s clothing that they dug from the mountain of silt in the house. They even dug through the silt filled cellar hole in search of potatoes and canned goods that had been stored there earlier in the year. Nothing was ever left to waste.

There was also the matter of all the dead cows in the barn. Limoges said “Mr. Breault” removed the hides from the cows for use as leather. Although he isn’t sure how much his family got, Limoges said Mr. Breault paid the family something for the hides. The bodies of the cows were than dumped in a mass grave. Most likely Mr. Breault was busy in the days following the flood. Some farmers were able to save their livestock by getting them to the second floor of their barns, Limoges said. However, others, such as Hector Arel, the Limoges family’s neighbor, also lost all of his cows.

Moving the house wasn’t as difficult as it might seem, Limoge said. It was put on rollers made up of logs. A horse was then used to pull the house into place, but not to its original foundation. Fearing another flood might someday strike, the house was pulled to higher ground.

The flood had a terrible impact on his father, Limoges said. He had a hard time even talking about it. Reflecting back to the flood, Limoges said, “it’s what the good Lord wanted, it’s what He got.”