In 500... (or less)

Not My Dam Problem

Unger peered out the office window.

"Is that fool inspector still out there?" Hopkins asked.

"Yes, looks like he's walking across the breast of the dam now. Don't know what he expects to find."

"Oh wait," Unger said. "Looks like he's heading back to the office now."

Hopkins met him at the door and led him back into Unger's office.

"I expect you found everything in fine order, Mr. Collins," Unger said with a genial smile. 

"Mr. Unger," Collins said. "On the contrary, we have a great many things to review."

Hopkins and Unger shared a contemptuous glance as Collins took a seat.

"First, let's start with the condition of the dam itself," the inspector said.

"We've shored it up several times in the past few years," Hopkins interjected. "Should be a sound as ever."

Collins cleared his throat, annoyed at the interruption.

"As I was saying," he continued stealing a quick look at Hopkins, "the repairs to the face of the dam are substandard. It looks like someone jammed mud and straw into it, presumably to plug leaks."

"It's an older dam, to be sure, Mr. Collins," Unger answered. "And built out of solid earth. I was not aware that we should be patching it with anything else. Now that you brought it to my attention, we will use whatever materials you recommend for repairing leaks."

Unger's smile could not have been less genuine, and Collins knew it. He continued his report unfazed.

"Next," the gruff inspector said, "it seems as if the drainage pipes have been removed."

"Sold for scrap, sir," Unger said. "Years before we owned the lake and dam."

"Nonetheless," Collins said, "they ought to be replaced. Without them, you have no way to perform any kind of emergency draining of the lake."

"Duly noted," Unger said. "Hopkins, put that in the notes please. We'll get Parke on that as soon as possible."

Collins shook his head. He knew when he was being paid lip service.

"Most importantly, Mr. Unger, some fool has placed screening in the spillway," he said.

"Sir, it was placed there on the orders of Mr. Frick himself," Unger said. "Don't want the prized trout escaping from the lake. After all, most of the members come here to enjoy a paddle on the lake and to fish."

"Prized trout, indeed," Collins scowled. "That screen will make a fine obstruction if the water level ever goes up. Why every branch for 10 miles upstream will get hung up on it."

"We've not had a problem with it so far, Mr. Collins," Unger replied. "Hopkins himself clears the screen each morning of anything hung up there. There has never been more than a twig or two caught on it."

Unger opened his desk and pulled out an envelope, one filled with cash from Mr. Frick, on the occasion that the inspector was causing problems.

"Mr. Frick thanks you kindly for your time and your suggestions, Mr. Collins," Unger said, holding out the envelope. "He wanted to convey those feelings personally in this letter."

Collins frowned and waved off the envelope.

"I suppose this club will stay open regardless of what I say, Mr. Unger," Collins said. "But that dam could be a real problem."

"Nonsense," Hopkins said, irritated. "It would take at least six or 10 inches of rain in a day to even make me think twice about it not being safe."

On May 30, 1889, approximately eight inches of rain fell within 24 hours in Western Pennsylvania. The South Fork Dam was in danger of breaching, due to a clogged fish screen in the spillway. It broke in the early afternoon, killing nearly 3,000 people in nearby Johnstown.