‘River Rats’ Struggling to Rebuild After Big Flood

The green waters of the Russian River are running smooth these days.

Less than six feet deep now, the river yields no clue to the fact that three months ago it jumped 40 feet in height and tore through the lower river communities in the century’s worst flooding here.

Neighborhoods that were covered by 25 feet of water now appear on the surface to have recovered.

There is fresh paint on almost every major building, debris has been stripped from the trees and power lines. Houses that floated off their foundations have been bulldozed off the streets.

The big resorts have almost all reopened. The Safeway supermarket is no longer operating out of its parking lot, and insurance money has flowed into the bank accounts of some merchants. Construction workers crawl like army ants over buildings, repairing the destruction and giving the town a new, improved look.

But quietly, tenaciously, with chutzpah, back-breaking work, and little money, some business people still struggle to get their livelihoods back to a semblance of normalcy.

Many are still waiting for reconstruction loans from the Small Business Administration.

“Thank God I’ve got the tenacity and the energy to put this place back together again piece by piece,” said Ric Fullerton, owner of the Russian River Woodcraft Studios on the Rio Nido strip. The river ambles 100 feet from his back door.

His shop, and the one next door that belongs to his stained-glass artist wife, Jean, still look like bombed-out buildings in a war-torn countryside.

Floodwaters rose 10 feet inside these Old West studios. Plywood now covers the windows where their crafts were displayed.

Inside, few walls are left. Only exposed studs and pieces of Sheetrock separate the rooms. The floor sags in every direction. The building had floated off its foundation.

River silt still coats everything, but Ric and Jean have no place else to try to eke out what for the last 11 years has been their source of income and happiness.

They had no insurance to cover the $200,000 in damages to both the businesses and their cars, and the paper work still is far from being completed for the $27,000 Small Business Administration loan they applied for.

“We’re flying by the seat of our pants,” said Jean, in a part of her studio where the floor is still intact. The back wall, however, was mostly washed downstream.

“We get a payment for a job we do and we use the money to put up a couple of more boards or to replace a window. We get a down payment on a big job and we hire a carpenter to do a few things.”

The Fullertons’ story is similar to that of many small business people devastated by the record St. Valentine’s Day flooding. They are the people who proudly call themselves “river rats,” creatures who chose life in the country and a known flood zone for its isolation and lack of urban problems.

Their combined income the year before the flood was $7,000. In the immediate aftermath of the deluge, when the floodwaters washed away their money box which contained their only cash on hand, the Fullertons had to write a bad check to buy food for the family.

“We’ve found what we want in life, doing what we want, and if we’ve got nothing else left in life we’ve got that which most people don’t,” Ric philosophized.

“We’re doing what we love, but now we’re paying the price.”

The Fullertons don’t own their buildings. They signed 15-year leases and completely renovated them over the years.

Commercial space is rare and relatively costly in Guerneville, and the Fullertons believe they have no place else in these parts to go. But they say they are not waiting or depending on government help.

“We figure if you can’t pull yourself up by the seat of your pants, forget it, because you can’t sit back and try to let the government do it for you,” said Jean, who said she still hasn’t been awarded the unemployment insurance payments she was guaranteed in the days after the flood.