By Rachel Weaver
The Pittsburgh Tribune Review
MEMPHIS, Tenn. — Along Riverside Drive in downtown Memphis this weekend, a mix of residents and out-of-towners strolled on the park’s pathways, rested on benches and snapped photographs as ripples of the Mississippi River flowed over the grass and broke against their feet.
The Tennessee city is bracing for the worst flood it has seen since 1937, but it’s a slow disaster, hitting some of the city’s outlying communities, skipping others and making its mark downtown over a matter of weeks.
The National Weather Service predicts the river level will reach 48 feet by Tuesday, which could threaten the record of 48.7 feet set in 1937.
Since late April, 10 Tennessee counties have been declared eligible for assistance from the Federal Emergency Management Agency. Memphis Public Works is closing floodgates ahead of the rising waters.
Members of the Memphis Fire Department patrol the city twice a day. They are working 24-hour shifts, said Lt. Gregory Mobley of Fire Department No. 5. On Saturday morning, the department helped evacuate nine adults, one child and four animals from the city’s Frayser neighborhood.
Joe Incardona, 49, a former Penn Hills resident who now calls Memphis home, said that while Pittsburgh and Memphis are both river cities, Western Pennsylvanian life revolves more around water.
“We don’t have the added element of the three rivers converging,” he said. “Here it’s like, ‘Oh yeah. That thing downtown.’ But that mighty body of water can be treacherous.”
For now, the city remains relatively unscathed compared with some of its suburbs. On Saturday, Memphis was packed with fans heading to the Grizzlies’ NBA playoff game and people in town for graduation ceremonies at the University of Memphis. While a portion of Beale Street, known for its blues clubs, near the river had flooded, revelers took in live music on the bluff. The flooding was about a half-mile from the street’s world-famous nightspots, which are on higher ground.
Dozens gawked and snapped photos as water pooled at the end of the road. Traffic was heavy downtown on a day the streets would normally be quiet.
The river is “probably the biggest tourist attraction in Memphis,” said Scott Umstead, who made the half-hour drive from Collierville with his wife and their three children.
Tourists and residents alike walked along the evolving riverfront, looking across the water to Mud Island Amphitheater, which appears to be floating as the 20-foot hillside that runs along it is submerged.
“It’s devastating to some and awesome to others,” said Marlin Roberts, 44, a Memphis native. “There are probably people (in the riverfront park) who haven’t been down here for years.”
Some city residents are more pessimistic.
“This is not just a flood; it’s a geographical change,” said Memphis native Alvix Miller, 39, pointing to a 50-yard stretch of hillside that’s now under water. “This is a big change. Calling it a flood is an understatement.”
That is becoming evident in towns on the city’s outskirts. When John Stucker, 27, tried to get into the Frayser mobile home park where he lives to pick up medication for his father, police denied him access. Looking past the police barricades, he saw water up to porches. Only the tops of stop signs peeked above the water.
Stucker had to drive a 30-minute loop to the other side of the park, where he was permitted to enter, but only because of his credentials as a member of the National Guard, he said.
“You get used to it — having to up and move. I lived through a flood in Illinois in 1995 when the entire town was under 8 feet of water,” he said. "(My home) is nothing that can’t be replaced.”
The river reached record levels in some areas upstream, thanks to heavy rains and snowmelt. It spared Kentucky and northwest Tennessee any catastrophic flooding, and no deaths have been reported there, but some low-lying towns and farmland along the banks of the Mississippi have been inundated.
In the Shelby Forest portion of Memphis, at least two residents used boats to get to and from their homes.
Jackie McKee, 46, who has lived there since 1998, opted not to evacuate initially. But as the water started to seep into his home, he began taking supplies via boat to his car.
“I didn’t think it would get this bad,” said McKee, who lives in the home with his wife and child.
McKee’s home is on a 100-year flood plain. However, last year on May 1 ? the same date the water started rising this year — a similar flood affected his neighborhood. The water comes from Big Creek, a secondary tributary of the Mississippi.
“What you can do?” he asked. “My biggest gripe is that they won’t close the road.”
Other residents feared they might end up trapped.
“It’s frightening,” said Linda Crider, 54, whose home sits atop a hill above McKee’s. “We don’t have many outs.”
The displaced residents are pouring into local shelters, many set up in churches or community centers.
“They are grieving,” said Jamesia Foucek, site manager at the nearby Millington Crisis Center, where about 50 people waited out the flood on Saturday. “Some of them lost everything.”
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