Tapped out: 1980 water crisis forced campus evacuation

By Daniel J. Fitzgibbons

For some veteran staff and faculty and quite a few alumni, images of the Hurricane Katrina disaster may have triggered faint memories of another water crisis that forced the campus to close and evacuate more than 11,000 students.

It was 25 years ago this week when the town of Amherst’s water supply, already reduced by a summer drought, was unexpectedly overwhelmed by a surge in demand, leaving many residence halls high and dry. Chancellor Henry Koffler declared a state of emergency, canceled classes and ordered students to leave for several days.

As the crisis unfolded, events around campus became more and more surreal, like scenes from an old science fiction movie. Police cruisers crisscrossed the campus with loudspeakers telling students to evacuate. Caravans of buses arrived to transport the evacuees and students jostled for seats.

At the order of the governor, who was visiting Northampton, state troopers were sent to patrol against looting. Health Services staff scrambled to buy up distilled water and Housing Services bought hundreds of empty cider jugs. The National Guard delivered several tankers, known as “water buffaloes,” to supply residence hall staff members, who were instructed to remain in their buildings.

Of course, the story made headlines. “Faucets dry, campus in Massachusetts is closed,” reported the New York Times. The Boston Globe read, “Water shortage shuts UMass,” followed by “Let’s … call the whole thing off.” Soon after, local and national TV crews began arriving to cover the closure. And everyone, from the governor to town fathers to campus administrators to students, asked “How could this happen?”

Town supplies reduced by dry weather

The stage was set weeks before students made their annual fall trek back to campus. After weeks of drought, the town’s reservoirs were well below normal. Rainfall since July 1 had been half the usual amount and temperatures ran higher than normal. The Atkins reservoir in Shutesbury was down six feet, but the Hills Reservoir in Pelham had gone down 13 feet and its output was reduced by half. A third, smaller reservoir, also in Pelham, was two and a half feet below normal.

On Aug. 31, residence halls across campus reopened and students began pouring into the area. As the Labor Day weekend continued, temperatures were in the 80s and demand for town water soared on Monday to 4.5 million gallons, 700 gallons more than the previous record, Stan Ziomek, Amherst’s superintendent of public works, reported later.

By Tuesday, Amherst Town Manager A. Louis Hayward was “agonizing” over ways to solve the community’s water problems. Construction of a new well in the Lawrence Swamp in South Amherst was at least four weeks away, so the Board of Selectmen authorized Hayward to declare a water emergency starting the following Monday. The order, which was intended to cut water use by 25 percent, would ban all agricultural irrigation, watering of lawns and the washing of cars and allow the selectmen to buy water from neighboring Hadley.

Hayward also contacted campus officials about cutting back consumption. Vice Chancellor for Administration and Finance George Beatty said a number of steps were being considered, but said nothing was yet decided.

Another campus official, Gerald Grady of Community Affairs, reported that the notices advising students to conserve water had been posted in dormitories two years earlier. The posters suggested limiting showers, avoiding unnecessary flushing of toilets and other “common sense” measures, he said.

But the arrival of students back from summer vacation also coincided with hot weather. Labor Day weekend temperatures were in the 80s and continued as students awaited the start of classes on Wednesday.

On Tuesday morning, the Amherst Fire Department notified the department of public works that alarms were showing that water levels in the town’s four storage tanks east of the campus had dropped to 40 feet, well below the usual mark of 62 feet. DPW staff responded by boosting the pumps.

On campus, water consumption was soaring, reaching a record 4.5 million gallons on Tuesday night.

The first report of trouble came on Wednesday morning when a resident of Cashin House in Sylvan called maintenance to complain about low water pressure. A plumber was dispatched to investigate the problem. After checking to make sure the building’s filters weren’t clogged, the plumber determined that it was a supply problem. Physical Plant called the Amherst water department, but pressure continued to dwindle.

By early afternoon, signs were posted in Cashin House advising students on the fifth through eighth floors that no water was available. Meanwhile, complaints about low water pressure began coming from other dorms in Sylvan, Orchard Hill and Central—all areas high on the ridge on the east side of campus.

The shortage spread to Health Services, where administrators went to local markets and bought jugs of distilled water and secured an additional two 55-gallon drums from a Holyoke company.

All through the afternoon, plumbers were sent to shut off water to individual floors, then entire buildings, in a bid to ease demand on the water system. At 6 p.m., Physical Plant director George Norton alerted Vice Chancellor Beatty about the building crisis. About 45 minutes later, Norton called the town manager, Lou Hayward, who was unaware of the burgeoning problem, which was beginning to be noticed in Southwest.

Dell Norton, a sophomore in Pierpont basement, said students on her floor noticed that the toilets wouldn’t stop flushing, a problem triggered by low pressure. Nelson told a reporter that the toilets backed up and flooded the floor, but many students were in a “party mood.”

Next door in Cance House, Tere Kolish was lucky enough to get the last shower before the water ran out. “There were rumors circulating that UMass was going to evacuate,” she told the Herald American. “People were really getting excited.”

In North Amherst, a steady stream of students made their way to Puffer’s Pond to clean up.

By 9:30 p.m., more than 3,000 students were without water. Around the same time, Chancellor Koffler returned from meetings in Boston and Beatty brought him up to date. If pressure continued to drop across the campus, he was warned, it threatened a costly shutdown of the steam plant as well as some research projects and air conditioning and electrical systems.

Koffler also huddled with Hayward, who urged him to shutter the campus.

About 90 minutes later, in a last ditch effort to build up pressure and salvage the system, Norton ordered the water to Southwest’s 5,600 residents shut off. Connections to the Graduate Research Center, Tobin and Herter halls and the Boyden showers were all shut off, too.

According to a later report in the Boston Herald American, around midnight a student on the 20th floor of John Adams Tower began yelling “We want water” from his window, triggering a lusty response from other buildings.

“Voice after voice took up the cry in the dark and soon it surged into a chant,” reported the paper. “No showers, no sinks, no toilets,” said first-year student Jim Unger, adding that some students hoarded water in pails before the taps ran dry.

By 4 a.m., Norton and his staff determined that the Southwest shutdown was having no effect and had water service restored.

Janet McLaren, a junior in John Quincy Adams Tower, later told the Daily Hampshire Gazette, “At 7 p.m., the pressure went down and the RA told us to go down to the eighth floor to take a shower. When we got there, they told us to go to the fourth floor, and so on. There were tons of people in bathrobes riding up and down the elevators.”

“One RA was telling people there wouldn’t be any water for three days,” she said. “But this morning there was water and the bathroom flooded because people had left the faucets on.”

Koffler convened an emergency meeting of his top administrators at 7:30 a.m. and announced his decision to cancel classes and shut down the campus. At 10 a.m., representatives of campus governance units and unions were informed of the plan. Only “urgent business” would be conducted on campus, he said, and all central air conditioning would be turned off.

Closing the campus was a wrenching decision for Koffler, who in his first semester at UMass the year before had to close the Tower Library because of concerns about the safety of the building’s brick facing. Now he was ordering the entire campus closed on the same day he’d been scheduled to welcome students back with a speech entitled “A Sense of Opportunity: A Time for Decision.”

Notices were sent to residence hall staff informing them that the campus would close at noon. “All students are to leave Amherst as quickly as possible. Only the most difficult cases are to be allowed as exceptions,” it read.

When the announcement was read in the dining commons, students cheered, according to the Boston Globe.

In Amherst, Hayward was relieved to hear of the University’s closing, but still needed to take action to replenish the town’s water reserves. Using his earlier authorization from the selectmen, he ordered a water emergency and began making preparations to tap into Hadley’s water system and activate an emergency well on bay Road in South Amherst.

Town officials were briefly encouraged when the tank levels rose from zero to 21 feet by 9 a.m., but two hours later, the water began to drop again.

As a precaution, Amherst firefighters began taking a 1,000 gallon tanker with them on calls.

Exodus

Campus officials arranged for an armada of buses to take students to Worcester, Natick and Boston, beginning at 2 p.m.

Dan Melley, director of Public Affairs, said the campus had received calls from as far away as Enfield, Conn., from people offering to house students. A list was being drawn up to match students with housing, he said.

Chancellor Koffler also offered to house some students, but then was forced to back off when he realized that his residence, perched on Orchard Hill, was also waterless.

At various points on campus, UMass Transit staff set up tables in Southwest, Sylvan, Central and the Campus Center to sell bus tickets to evacuating students. Long lines of buses waited at each departure point, ready to whisk students out of town.

“It was a madhouse,” said Vincent Vollo, a volunteer ticket seller in Southwest. “They were pushing and shoving.”

Students were charged $8 for tickets to Boston and Natick and $5 to Worcester. Those who said they had no money were told to give their student numbers and they’d be billed later.

One student, David Rosen, told a reporter, “I don’t want to pay for a bus to go back home to New Jersey. I guess I’ll try to go to the Grateful Dead concert in Providence.”

Even before the 55 buses loaded up and began heading east, traffic out of town slowed to a crawl. One gas station reported that business was six times busier than usual.

“It’s just like moving an army. It is phenomenal,” Koffler told the Berkshire Eagle.

Other students made plans to stay off campus. Several fraternities and sororities, unaffected by the lack of water, planned “shower parties” with lots of beer, according to the Collegian.

One off-campus student told the Springfield Morning Union, “I expect 10 to 15 people will be staying at my place and we’ll be partying.”

According to the Globe, two liquor stores in Amherst reported brisk sales to students.

As the Morning Union reported the next day, “Students deserted the University of Massachusetts en masse Thursday using buses, vans, bicycles or an extended thumb to get away from a campus without water.

“By later afternoon, the sprawling campus looked much as it had all summer—quiet, peaceful and virtually deserted,” the article went on. “There was little evidence that 11,000 students had come and gone in the past few days.”

Gov. Edward King, who was visiting the Tri-County Fair in Northampton, took a swipe at Amherst officials after learning of the campus closing, saying a “common sense use of all resources” by the town should have alleviated the problem. The state’s water supply was “adequate” to serve all residents, he added.

King also instructed the State Police to patrol the campus against possible looting. The campus’s associate director of Public Safety, Philip Cavanaugh, also promised a beef-up police presence.

“We’re going to have an extremely high visibility with both foot and car patrols,” he said. “Let’s face it. Kids left with only one bag in hand. We’re going to have an extremely high visibility to discourage outsiders from ripping off the rooms.”

All residence halls went into 24-lockdown. Only about 600 students remained on campus, including international students in Prince House in Southwest and 360 resident assistants. Some athletes also remained.

John Findley of Housing Services arranged for eight tanks of water to be brought to the residence areas by the National Guard. Hundreds of empty cider jugs from Atkins Farms were purchased and distributed to the housing staff. Police were assigned to guard the “water buffaloes.”

The Dining Commons switched to plastic utensils and paper plates and maintenance staff from Housing and Physical Plant spread out to shut off all water fixtures, a less than pleasant task since most toilets in the dorms were filled by desperate students before they left.

Back to normal

And the wait began. As the town brought its new supplies on line, officials began planning for the campus to reopen on Sunday. Although William Atkins, the chairman of the board of selectmen, opposed bringing student back so soon, Hayward and public works superintendent Stan Ziomek said the new wells were sufficient to supply the campus and the tanks were refilled.

“The town assured us there would be enough water to meet the students’ needs when they return,” said campus spokesman Art Clifford.

There was a flurry of finger-pointing as campus and town officials tried to assess blame for the crisis. Ziomek tried to blame the “flush-o-meters” on the toilets for draining the water tanks, but Physical Plant officials pooh-poohed the charge. Campus administrators also claimed they were never fully informed of the severity of the town’s water problems. But as the water flowed back into the mains, cooler heads prevailed and the focus shifted to bring the students back to Amherst.

Campus officials decided to reimburse students for two days’ room and board, but declined to pay transportation costs for students. Refunds ranged from $22.89 to $26.76, depending on the meal plan.

Richard LaVoie, president of the Student Government Association, urged campus officials to charter 15 buses to transport students from Boston and Worcester back to campus, but the idea was turned down. LaVoie advised students to keep their receipts for small claims court action.

Campus officials said conservation measures would in effect when students returned. Students were urged to take shorter showers, report leaks and flush toilets only when necessary.

Maintenance crews worked feverishly over the weekend to disinfect bathrooms and turn on water connections.

In a letter to the campus community, Vice Chancellor for Student Affairs Dennis Madson praised the response of students and staff and announced an extension of the add-drop deadline.

As students settled in for a second time, one of the resident assistants who stayed through the evacuation, began hawking T-shirts reading “UMass Evacuation” and showing a dripping faucet labeled “Amherst DPW.” All 168 shirts were sold for $5 each within two hours.

With the crisis averted, everyone seemed to put the matter into their own perspective.

“I feel quite confident that unless we have a major mechanical failure we will provide water supplies to the town and university,” said Ziomek. “I do not anticipate any further closing of the institution.”

“We knew all summer that we were headed for trouble,” said selectwoman Diana Romer. “A good, three-inch rain would have saved us.”

But Karen Martino, a first-year student from Burlington, may have said it best: “The closing of school was a bummer, but it beats not taking a shower.”

September 9, 2005.

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