Posted: May 31, 2025 3:05 pm
by Amy Regan, Heritage Johnstown curator
The disaster of the 1889 Johnstown Flood presents a question: what would you do if everything you had known was taken away in a single afternoon? Anna Fenn’s story exemplifies the human ability to survive through some of the worst losses imaginable.
Anna Sullivan in was born 1854 to Irish immigrants Stephen and Barbara in Richmond, Virginia, and was the couple’s only child. On May 4, 1877, Anna married John Fenn. John was born in 1854 in Johnstown, but his parents had immigrated from Bavaria. Anna and John Fenn lived across from the M. E. Church at 223 Locust Street (image of the church after the disaster below).
John was a tinner as he ran a store that sold stoves, tinware, and hardware at 232 and 234 Washington Street. The store was located between Clinton Street and Franklin Street, across from the Freight House and the B&O Railroad Passenger Station.
Together, Anna and John had several children: John Fulton (born 1877_, May Flemming Miller, or Daisy (1879), Genevieve (1880) George Washington (1881), Anna Richmond Virginia (1883), Bismark Sullivan (1886), and Queen Ester Fenn (1888).
J.J. McLaurin, in his book The Story of Johnstown, tells the Fenn family’s story from Anna’s point of view:
“We were so happy on Thursday night! A little company had come to congratulate a friend who was just married. On Friday forenoon my husband was at his store. The water rose so that he set up some of the tinware and then helped the neighbors move their furniture. He stayed in the house a good while after dinner, going out about three o’clock. The water was over the sidewalk and he went to get some food, as the cellar was inundated. That was the last we saw of him. I heard yesterday that he got within two doors of home, called a farewell message to us, and was struck down. I heard a noise, like buildings falling, and told the children to run up-stairs. Before we all got up the water rushed through the doors and windows and caught us. I had the baby in my arms and the other children climbed on the lounge and table. The water rose and floated us until our heads nearly touched the ceiling. I held the baby as long as I could and then had to let her drop into the water. George had grasped the curtain pole and was holding on. Something crashed against the house, broke a hole in the wall and a lot of bricks struck my boy on the head. The blood gushed from his face, he loosed his hold and sank out of sight. Oh, it was too terrible!
My brave little Bismarck went next. Anna, her father’s pet, was near enough to kiss me before she slipped under the water. It was dark and the house was tossing every way. The air was stifling, and I could not tell just the moment the rest of the children had to give up and drown. My oldest boy, John Fulton, kept his head above the water as long as he was able. At last he said: ‘Mother, you always said Jesus would help. Will he help us now?’ What could I do but answer that Jesus would be with him, whether in this world or the brighter one beyond the skies. He thought we might get out into the open air. We could not force a way through the wall or the ceiling, and the poor boy ceased to struggle. What I suffered, with the bodies of my seven children floating around me in the gloom, can never be told. Then the house struck hard and the roof broke. I punched a hole bigger and got out. The roof settled and I could do nothing more. How the night passed I know not, as I have no remembrance of anything after the house stopped until Saturday morning. Then I recovered my senses and saw I was close to the school-house at the lower end of Vine street. I was numb with cold and prayed for death, if it were God’s will. Soon voices called to me to keep up courage and I would be taken off. Some man put a piece of bread on a stick and threw it towards me. It floated beside the wreckage I was on and I caught it. A mouthful satisfied me. At noon a boat took me to the shore and I was given some food. I did not know then whether Mr. Fenn was saved or lost, and I set out to see what could be heard of him. I knew all my children were dead and had floated down among the rubbish on the Point. On Sunday I heard of my husband’s fate. I had hoped he got across Stony Creek and would return, but the dreadful news destroyed the last spark of comfort in my soul. I had drunk the cup of sorrow to the lowest dregs.
Kind friends gave me shelter and what consolation they could offer. But my heart is breaking. My husband, all my dear children, and my home are gone! I came from Virginia to Johnstown and have no relatives in this section of the country, except some of my husband’s family. My parents and brothers and sisters are dead, so that I am indeed alone in the world. I have looked at every body as it was brought to the morgues to see if it might be one of my treasures. Thus far I have recovered none of them, and I fear they may have been burned in the fire at the bridge. The thought is agonizing and I feel as if I should go wild when it seems that I cannot even look upon the fvhaces of my precious dead. It would be such a comfort to know where they sleep and visit their graves, to water them with my tears and plant flowers over their heads. Yet I do not quite despair of finding some of them. They may be dug out of the ruins of the homes above the bridge, and I shall watch the bodies carried in to see if my husband and children are not among them. No wife and mother could have had a kinder, better family. We were all the world to each other. There is a picture of my family in a group, taken last December, one copy of which I gave to a lady in Conemaugh Borough for a Christmas present. But for that there would be none in existence, as the one that hung in our parlor was washed away with the house. The children’s names and ages were: John Fulton, 12 years. May Fleming Miller, or ‘‘Daisy,” 10 years. Genevieve, 9 years. George Washington, 8 years. Anna Richmond Virginia, 6 years. Bismarck Sullivan, 3 years. Queen Esther, 16 months old on the day of the flood.
John Fulton was named in honor of the manager of the Cambria Iron Works, who took a great interest in him and made him his messenger boy when he grew old enough. The report that Mr. Fulton was drowned came, I suppose, through the drowning of my child. John was a good boy to me. The first money he ever earned he handed to me, saying: ‘Mamma, you use some for yourself and let me put some in the Sunday-school box.’ Last year he joined the Presbyterian church, of which he was the youngest member. His father and I looked forward to the day when our manly lad would be able to share in the business. It is hard to realize that both are gone and that our plans are thwarted. What shall I do? What shall I do?
Daisy’ was called May Fleming Miller from dear friends of ours. She was a diligent scholar and I think everybody liked her for her amiable ways. At home she always tried to take care of the smaller children. Now they are all gone! George was born on the anniversary of Washington’s birthday and received the name of the father of his country. Anna’s name included my native city and state. The Germans were holding a celebration in Johnstown on the day my third son came into the world, so we decided to name him Bismarck. The baby was called Queen Esther because the cantata of that name was produced on the evening of her birth. If God had only spared me one I could have been resigned. But all, all! Father in Heaven, is not my cross heavier than I can bear?”
Anna Fenn and J.J. McLaurin tell the story best. However, Anna’sflood story does not end there. In the immediate aftermath of the flood Anna, who was pregnant and unwell, and was cared for at a house built by the Red Cross. She gave birth to a baby girl a few weeks after the flood, but the child, Rachel Faith, did not survive for more than a few hours.
How could one person continue to function after such truly unimaginable loss? Anna passed her time by digging through the remnants of her family home. She told her story to those who asked, including Rev. Drs. W. C. Cattell and Beale. While she spoke to them, she retrieved a clock from the destruction of her house. The clock was sent away for repair and returned to Anna Fenn on January 3, 1890.
In the flood’s immediate aftermath, Anna identified two of her children’s bodies, Genevieve and Bismark. She also identified her husband’s grave in Prospect Cemetery from his effects. Anna recognized the collar button she had placed on her husband’s collar the morning of the flood. Other effects were a key ring, and a pocketbook, kept by the Presbyterian Morgue. A news article detailing this appeared in The Weekly Dispatch on October 25, 1889. The article reads as follows:
“The Late John Fenn – His body is new now to be in Prospect after months of search by his wife. Before the flood, Mr. John Fenn kept a stove and tinware store at 232 and 234 Washington Street where he did a thriving business. When the flood came his family consisting of his wife and seven bright children, were at his residence, 223 Locust Street, and Mr. Fenn was at his store. Alarmed at the rapid rise of water her started for his home by way of Clinton Steet, it is presumed to avoid the water on Franklin Street, but before reaching his house he was overtaken by the wave and sought refuge in the residence of the editor of this paper, and when that house was knocked to pieces was swept on to death. Seeing that he was doomed to perish before reaching his loved ones at home, he called to Mr. Henry Derritt to tell his wife and children good-bye. Mrs. Fenn and the children with the housemaid, were floated in their house to the neighborhood of Cobaugh’s block in Kernville, when the house was struck or caught by other buildings and crushed to pieces. The children were never seen afterward. Mrs. Fenn miraculously escaped, but was unable for weeks to learn of any clue that might enable her to find the remains of any of the missing ones, being hindered much of the time by sickness resulting from the shock and exposure. Finally the body of little Bismark, the youngest son, was found and identified, but it seemed as if none of the others would ever be found. Mrs. Fenn did not despair of finding them, however, and persevered in her search until last Thursday afternoon, when she found in the possession of the Committee on Valuables the key ring with key, pocket-book, containing $8.68 in small change, and a collar button, all of which had been taken from the body of her husband at the Presbyterian Morgue. The number of the grave in Prospect, where he had been buried, was also learned, and in the new future the body will be raised, taken to the Presbyterian Church, where memorial services for the right lost ones will be held, and interred in the family lot in Grand View.”
John Fenn was interred at Grandview Cemetery on November 11, 1889. Anna claimed $29,200 in damages and was awarded between two separate funds, $3,410. John’s two brothers, George and William, reopened the tinware shop in the same location, 232 Washington Street, under the name of FENN BROS., Manufacturers of and Dealers in Stoves, Tin, Sheet Iron Ware, etc., with Jobbing, Spouting and Tin-Roofing a Specialty. Eventually, Anna remarried. She married Charles Barnes on September 26, 1894. Anna continued to live in Johnstown and appeared in the 1900 Census living in the 3rd ward of the City of Johnstown. Charles died on December 9, 1908.
Anna then married Samuel Maxwell on February 10, 1910. She was 46 years old, and he was 47. Samuel was originally from Canada, but was living in Astoria, Oregon, working as a lumberman. In 1920, Samuel and Anna lived in Johnstown at 232 Walnut Street, and Samuel was working as a coal miner.
Anna died in Richmond, Virginia, on March 11, 1928, and was buried in Grandview Cemetery in the Fenn plot with John, Bismark, and Genevieve. After their deaths, Samuel and his second wife were buried at the Fenn plot as well.
Anna survived the 1889 Johnstown Flood while losing her husband and seven children on the day of the flood. She was ill and lost yet another child in the weeks after the flood. She continued looking for her children in the months after. Anna held onto what was lost and stayed in Johnstown much of her life, showing an immeasurable fortitude to carry on in the face of losing everything.
Bibliography
Beale, David J., Through the Johnstown Flood. Edgewood Publishing Company, 1890.
Benshoff, Harry M. The World’s Charity to Conemaugh Valley Sufferers and Who Received It. Johnstown Pa: Harry M. Benshoff, 1890.
Clark, Charles B., C. B. Clark’s Johnstown Directory and Citizens Register. Altoona, Pa: N.C. Barclay & Sons, 1889.
Johnson, Willis Fletcher. History of the Johnstown Flood. Philidelphia: Edgewood Publishing Co, 1889.
>McLaurin, J. J., The Story of Johnstown. Harrisburg Pa: James M. Place, 1890. http://www.johnstowncafe.com/johnstownarchivebook1889floodthestoryofjohnstown.pdf
National Park Service, https://www.nps.gov/people/anna-fenn-maxwell.htm
Sanborn Map Company. Johnstown, Cambria, Johnstown, February 1886. New York: Sanborn Map & Publishing Co., 1886. “Sanborn Fire Insurance Maps“. < (May, 2025). https://digital.libraries.psu.edu/digital/collection/maps1/id/11733
Sanborn Map Company. Johnstown, Cambria, Johnstown, Volume One, 1913. New York: Sanborn Map & Publishing Co., 1913. “Sanborn Fire Insurance Maps”
>Storey, Henry Wilson. History of Cambria County Pennsylvania Vol 1. New York: The Lewis Publishing Company, 1907.
