On
December 23, 1918, heavy rain causes a blowout in the
glacial moraine along the Cedar River Watershed, sending
hundreds of thousands of gallons of water, mixed with
gravel and detritus, down small Boxley Creek. Later
known by some as the “Boxley Burst,†the disaster
destroys the logging community of Edgewick, but spares
the lives of every resident therein.
RIGHT: the ruins of the Edgewick Mill after the
Boxley Burst.
A River Ran Through It
Cedar Lake (now Chester Morse Lake), three miles east
of Rattlesnake Lake and several hundred feet higher,
feeds Rattlesnake Lake, which in turn feeds Boxley
Creek. The Cedar River watershed feeds Rattlesnake Lake
specifically from seepage through the glacial moraine
beneath Cedar Lake.
In 1914, the City of Seattle began building a masonry
dam on the Cedar River between Cedar Lake and
Rattlesnake Lake. The dam was needed to impound water to
generate electric power for City Light. During the
four-year construction, a 12-foot diameter opening was
left in the foot of the dam to allow the river to flow
freely during construction. In October 1918, the project
was completed and the hole was plugged.
For the next two months, water gradually rose behind
the dam. As a small lake filled the valley between the
dam and Cedar Lake, more water seeped into the ground
and through the moraine. Below the dam, Rattlesnake Lake
swelled, causing more runoff into Boxley Creek. In
December, the rains came, and with them, disaster.
Down in the Valley
By the morning of December 23, 1918, there was too
much rain. Before sunrise, a landslide and washout
occurred near the masonry dam. A surge of water sluiced
half a million cubic yards of earth and gravel away from
the hillside. The churning mass roared down the small
valley leading to Boxley Creek. Within minutes the
little stream turned into a 150-foot wide river.
Directly in its path was the little community of
Edgewick.
Edgewick was a company town built for the North Bend
Lumber Company (NBLC) by owners Robert Vinnedge and
William C. Weeks. The name of the town came from
combining their names -- the last syllable of Vinnedge
followed by “Wick,†a popular pronunciation of Weeks.
The first sawmill at Edgewick was built in 1906, and by
1918, the little community consisted of 18 identical row
houses for families, a bunkhouse for single workers, a
kitchen, a dining room, and a company store. The mill
and the town were located at the foot of Boxley Creek as
it drained into the South Fork of the Snoqualmie River.
Run for the Hills
Standing in torrential rain, NBLC night watchman
Charles Moore had been keeping a close eye on the creek
as it pushed up against a dam built for the millpond.
Throughout the night, the water had been slowly rising,
but then the creek began swelling by a foot or more
every two minutes.
Moore realized that a break had occurred upstream,
and that he had to immediately warn the townspeople
sleeping in their homes below. Acting quickly, he tied
down the whistle with a length of cord. As the whistle
shrieked out over the falling rain, he ran through the
town, battering on every door. “Out of your beds!†he
screamed. “The dam is going to go!â€
There was no time to waste. Some folks dressed
quickly, but many ran from their homes in nightclothes,
clutching a hastily grabbed shirt, blouse, or pair of
pants. As the community gathered outside in the
downpour, they heard a sickening crunch upstream,
followed by a deafening roar. Their dam had just given
way, and they were right in the floodpath.
Men, women, and children frantically rushed for high
ground, fearing the worst. Fortunately, circumstances
gave them a few extra seconds that probably saved their
lives. Before the swell could reach them, it crashed
into the main mill, which acted as a barrier, if only
temporarily. Ankle-deep water quickly rose to
waist-deep. As the last folks climbed out of the way,
the water was almost up to their necks. The mill buckled
and collapsed. Everyone on the dark hillside caught
their breath, as they heard the remains of their town
carom through the raging current below.
Swept Away
As quickly as the flood had begun, it ended. Once the
surge of water joined with the Snoqualmie River, the
levels at Boxley Creek began to drop. The 60 or so
ex-residents of Edgewick built a small fire on the
hillside and huddled around it in shock. Tomorrow would
be a cheerless Christmas Eve, but at least they were
alive.
As morning broke, they peered into the valley at what
had once been their home. Almost every building was
destroyed, some completely obliterated. The company
owned the houses, but everyone’s personal belongings
were now strewn amidst mud, rock, and timber. Some
families lost all that they owned.
Downstream, North Bend officials saw the mill debris
in the Snoqualmie River and sent a train to Edgewick to
help with the recovery. Four families rode the train
back to North Bend, but everyone else stayed, hoping to
find things that were once theirs. For now, all they had
were the clothes on their backs.
Picking up the Pieces
The disaster was devastating for Vinnedge and Weeks,
beyond their business concerns. Vinnedge and his wife
had just lost a daughter to a spinal disorder, and were
recovering in California at their doctor’s behest. They
returned after receiving word that their home in
Edgewick had been destroyed. Weeks was dealing with his
own personal tragedy: His wife had died days before in
the worldwide flu epidemic, leaving him to raise their
three small children on his own.
The NBLC began salvaging in the spring, but there was
no hope of rebuilding and resuming operations. They sold
what little equipment was still usable, trying to cover
their losses. They also fought with the City of Seattle
for damage compensation, but litigation dragged on for
almost 10 years. After seemingly endless lawsuits and
appeals, in April 1928, the courts awarded NBLC
$361,867.81.
By this time, the town of Edgewick was mostly a
memory, and although it was never formally renamed, many
locals now referred to the stream as Christmas Creek.
The
Jazz Singer, first feature film with
sound, debuts in Seattle at the Blue Mouse on December 30,
1927.
Those
eager to put 2008 behind them will have to hold their
good-byes for just a moment this New Year's Eve.
Scientists
were closely monitoring more than 250 small earthquakes that
rattled Yellowstone National Park over the weekend and into
Monday. 
The
daughter of former vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin
has given birth to a son, a magazine reported Monday.
A
passenger jet powered in part by vegetable oil successfully
completed a two-hour flight today to test a biofuel that
could lower airplane emissions and cut costs, Air New
Zealand said.
TEXT
messaging is a wonderful business to be in: about 2.5
trillion messages will have been sent from cellphones
worldwide this year. The public assumes that the wireless
carriers’ costs are far higher than they actually are, and
profit margins are concealed by a heavy curtain.
