When everything was washed away McBride residents rebuilt their

McBRIDE, Mo. -- The runaway river first approached as faraway sparkles across rich bottom land, then sneaked up as syrupy rivulets pulsing through ditches in town.

Then in a murky rush the Mississippi River took McBride, backfilling to the north through a broken levee, splashing against railroad boxcars, surging across the floor at Al's Place, where owners Lois and Leonard Naeger had already loaded out the pool table, bar stools and dishes.

Standing on a hillside, watching the wild river immersing her hometown, Lois Naeger could only cry: "It's so damn hard to watch your life float away."

It was Sunday, July 25, 1993, when historic Midwest flooding that had tormented river towns for weeks finally swamped McBride. Locals knew trouble was coming, but preparation wasn't enough when the Bois Brule Levee -- they pronounce it Boy-Brew-LAY -- failed 10 miles south of town.--

It was not only a personal tragedy for families who fled the city in Perry County, but a disaster for Gilster-Mary Lee, a company with two big buildings at McBride -- one for cooking generically-packaged supermarket cereal and popcorn and another for storage and distribution.

Don Welge, who started in 1957 as the company's first truck driver and rose to become president and general manager, was awakened at home across the river in Chester, Ill., by a 2:45 a.m. call on July 25, warning that the levee had broken. The Chester-to-McBride bridge had already been closed because of high water, so he dashed south to Cape Girardeau and circled back up to McBride, a trip of more than 60 miles covered at high speed.

Gilster-Mary Lee started loading out tractor-trailers at 5 a.m. The losses were serious. Gilster-Mary Lee was self-insured, and Welge today puts the tab for cleanup, rebuilding and retooling at $20 million. For weeks, workers sat at washtubs cleaning rust by hand from disassembled machinery.

Gilster-Mary Lee is stronger now -- expanding to more than 500 employees in the once-flooded river bottoms. Gleaming white trailers are lined up at its 52 docks, ready to haul goods as far away as Nova Scotia. And at shift changes, workers stop by Al's Place.

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With shovels and brooms at Al's place, the Naegers and friends swept away silt. They stripped walls down to the studs. Fresh wood paneling went up. Mrs. Naeger's mother, Retta Schremp, then 82, labored to install a new drop ceiling.

The kitchen was expanded, with shiny stoves and coolers.

"This building was strong and it stayed," said Mrs. Schremp, whose father had poured the foundation more than 70 years ago for the first owner.

"We tried to be as strong as this building, but I did cry at the time we lost it. A state trooper came up and told me, 'Mrs. Schremp, you have a right to cry.'"