REXBURG, Idaho — "A giant serpent, a dragon with smoke coming out of its mouth" — that is how Marilyn Hansen Sonderegger remembers the 12-foot wall of water spreading through the Snake River Valley on the warm June day the Teton Dam in southeastern Idaho broke. It was 30 years ago when she and two of her children stood on the hill in Rexburg, Idaho, and watched the devastation.
What looked like dragon's breath was actually "the power of that water lifting up the dirt in front of it. We could see that," Sister Sonderegger, recalled sitting in her rebuilt home in Sugar City, some 4 miles from Rexburg. "Then we started seeing houses coming and automobiles, and things floating."
"Everybody has a story," was how W. Keith Walker, chairman of the Madison County Commission at that time, described the day the dam broke, unleashing what started as a 30-foot wall of raging, brown, debris-filled water that tore down the Teton River canyon and smashed into towns in the Upper Snake River Valley on June 5, 1976.
Brother Walker was preparing to move his cattle to the range that day. Brent Robison was mowing his lawn. President Ferron W. Sonderegger of the Rexburg Idaho North Stake, which included the hardest-hit areas, was planting and — ironically — preparing to water new strawberry plants.
Perhaps the greatest story, is how a people throughout the region — some 90 percent members of the Church — who come from pioneer ancestry pulled together, pulled on work boots and gloves and shoveled out the muck, cleaned out twisted railroad ties and rebuilt roads, homes and businesses. The region was declared by then-U.S. President Gerald R. Ford a national disaster area, but within some nine months later, according to Brother Walker, despite temporary trailer homes and trenches still visible in fields where floating houses scraped through, life was appearing somewhat normal.
"I tell you that summer was kind of a miracle of restructuring and cleaning up," President Sonderegger, who is now 85, told the Church News, sitting next to his wife, now 79. He added that the adjutant general of the National Guard arrived soon after the dam broke to "supervise everything." What he saw astounded him.
"He came over and worked with us and he said, 'I can't believe it. The only thing I have seen since I have been here is work. I think the best thing we can do is get out of the way.' "
President Sonderegger's stake at the time included six of the hardest-hit wards: Hibbard, Rexburg 1st and 8th wards, Sugar City 1st and 2nd wards and Salem. Other areas nearly leveled included Wilford and Roberts. The water spread its way down the valley, finally settling into the American Falls Reservoir near Pocatello, Idaho.
Some damage estimates of the time were as high as $1 billion. Brother Walker thinks it was closer to $600 million. Some 11 Church buildings were damaged or destroyed and thousands of head of livestock were lost. The affected area covered some 300 square miles.
Probably the most astounding statistic, however, were lives lost — five as a direct result of the flood and some six others in related incidents. Many surmise the low figure is the result of timing. The dam broke a few minutes before noon. Police officers drove up and down streets with loudspeakers, town sirens blared, and, maybe most important, neighbor warned and helped neighbor. As she fled Sugar City with two of her children and the family cat, Sister Sonderegger picked up two elderly neighbors. President Sonderegger and his oldest son, also named Ferron, drove around town before departing to ensure no one was left.
Those accounts are legion, and so, too, are the accounts of the 40 million volunteer man-hours in the aftermath.
The work began nearly immediately. Even as houses were being washed off their foundations, President Sonderegger was on the telephone to Salt Lake City. Within three hours a truck loaded with supplies was on the way to Rexburg. "We fed and put 14,000 people to bed the first night at (Ricks College)," Brother Walker recalled. Opening the Church-owned school to disaster victims was then-Ricks President Henry B. Eyring, now a member of the Quorum of the Twelve.
Volunteers began rolling into town on buses once it was determined by officials to be safe — including from rattlesnakes that had washed into the valley with flood waters. Help came from Utah, Wyoming and throughout Idaho. Federal and state help also arrived. National Guard helicopters had been in the air the first day looking for survivors. One company sent private helicopters.
Another arrival brought a ray of light to the gloom. Church President Spencer W. Kimball, accompanied by Elder Boyd K. Packer, now Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve, arrived June 13. They toured the area and addressed two sessions of a special stake conference held at the college. When they arrived in the gymnasium, they heard the people singing, "We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet." During his address, President Kimball told the congregation that upon hearing them sing, "I knew all would be well."
To help coordinate clean-up efforts, for the next several weeks, every day at 6 a.m. President Sonderegger met with Brother Walker, other stake presidents, including President Mark Ricks of the Rexburg Idaho Stake and Keith Petersen of the Rexburg East stake, and state and federal officials. They developed a slogan, "Let's make order out of chaos the priesthood way."
"I know that I received revelation on how to assign stakes," President Sonderegger said. He felt prompted to assign six unaffected stakes to each of the six affected wards in his stake. Those stakes were the Ammon, Iona, Driggs, Rigby and two Idaho Falls stakes. "Those people (from those stakes) came every day. They knew what they were doing. I assigned them to the different wards. That's where revelation comes in because I didn't realize that Salem was divided by the Teton River."
Driggs had been assigned to Salem, and because of the first town's location, they were able to send half their work force north and half south.
President Sonderegger also recalled with gratitude members from Burley and Oakley, Idaho. Some 30 trucks in a convoy were sent to help with some 15 to 20 tractors and caterpillars.
To help with rumors and fear, President Sonderegger instituted a daily "fact sheet." During nightly meetings, his bishops relayed questions and concerns from survivors. The same evening, he issued to those bishops that "fact sheet," on which every question was listed and beside the questions, he wrote, "fact," or "rumor." "That was a real blessing," he recalled. "That was one of the best things we could have done to inform the people."
Remembering the volunteer efforts, Brother Walker especially chuckled when he recalled the representative from Housing and Urban Development stating in a 6 a.m. meeting that they needed to know how many trailer houses were needed and determine access to water and sewers by the time snow arrived in the winter. It's impossible, she declared. "We talked to stake presidents, stake presidents called their bishops, the bishops called the home teachers, home teachers went out and got the information needed," Brother Walker said.
The next morning, they handed her the information. "She threw hands in the air and walked off," he added.
Thirty years later, the story of the Teton Dam flood is still a personal one. Brent Robison, who was in the Rexburg 3rd Ward at the time, drove away from his home in his Ford pickup, the back loaded with clothes and the family's safe. In the rearview mirror he saw a 6-foot wall of water hit his home. "The place just exploded," he recalled.
But most important to him were the whereabouts of his wife, Sherry, and then-1-year-old daughter. They had gone to Wilford for a family party that day. For three days, he did not know if they were alive. Finally, he made his way to the St. Anthony radio station where he was directed to the armory. There, dirty and tired, were his wife and daughter.
He can't speak about the moment without emotion. "Pretty much heaven," is the best way he can describe it. "You can build a house. You can make a lawn, plant a flower, but seeing my wife and daughter — beyond that, I can do anything. This life is pretty valuable."
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