Somerset — “Pulaski Countians will look back on 1950 as a year of tremendous construction projects: The building and completion of several magnificent bridges, the complete disappearance of Old Burnside and development of a New Burnside ... and several miles of new railroad in the southern part of the county.”

This report was published in The Commonwealth, predecessor of the Commonwealth Journal, on Jan. 3, 1951. The weekly newspaper was reflecting on newly formed Lake Cumberland as it forever changed the face of the land and focus of the community.

An unstable Wolf Creek Dam is cause to cherish the origin of a resource that spurred Somerset from economic doldrums into the fastest growing community in southeastern Kentucky. Being near an indescribably beautiful lake has brought new jobs as well as vacationing fun seekers who spend money like it’s going out of style.

However, despite the community’s unprecedented growth, optimism suddenly has lost some luster. The leaking dam and resulting low water level generate uneasiness about the economic fiber of a 10-county area.

Lake Cumberland was an economic savior. The generous waters gurgled with new hope and prosperity after the Ferguson Railroad Shops closed. The Shops, where steam engines were repaired, shut down and 600 high-paying jobs were lost when diesel engines started pulling trains.

Lake Cumberland filled to the brim as Burnside scurried to move the town to higher ground. Signs of the former city and narrow old U.S. 27 are visible while the lake is at a low level.

The Commonwealth was especially verbose during a time when newspaper writers in small towns were usually concise.

“ ... Many families in the southern and western sections of the county moved out because farms and homes will be inundated by the reservoir water. The homes, barns and business houses were torn down by the Army Corps of Engineers,” the newspaper reported.

It happened more quickly than expected. The two 60-foot slots through which the Cumberland River flowed during construction of Wolf Creek Dam were closed in late 1950. Projections were that it would take two years for the lake to expand to 65,000 acres, but heavy rains and flooding in the Cumberland River Basin filled the reservoir in a year.

The Commonwealth, in its edition of Wednesday, Feb. 7, 1951, said water in the lake rose 20.4 feet in less than a week. Old Burnside was completely covered with water and Bunker Hill, now General Burnside Island State Park, was surrounded by the newly forming lake. The water was 697 feet above sea level on that day, about 17 feet higher than currently maintained because of the ailing dam.

Journalism a half century ago was a far cry from its inquisitive nature today. Not a single interview was done with old-timers unhappily forced from their homes as the new lake lapped at more than 1,200 miles of shoreline. The unforgiving water choked river bottoms where crops had grown for centuries and drowned precious memories at a thousand homesteads.

Pre-Watergate reporters thought bitter tears were personal and probing queries were rude. Emotions were not recorded on the printed page.

Newspaper copy was produced with Linotype machines, a slow process that shaped lines of type with melted lead. Reporters were as scarce as hen’s teeth and most of the news was brought in over the counter.

Today, two, three or four stories at the most are on a front page. The Common-wealth, around 1950, usually had between 40 and 50 -- yes, that’s correct -- between 40 and 50 stories on the front page. If a well-to-do resident drove to Florida and only had a couple of flat tires it was front-page news.

There were relatively few banner headlines, none of which related to the impoundment of Lake Cumberland. High-point headlines were difficult to set on the plodding Linotype machines and one- and two-column heads were the norm.

A reporter found only two banner headlines while searching through two years of The Common-wealth. One was when President Truman ordered American troops into North Korea and the other proclaimed a $700,000 fire that destroyed Somerset Depart-ment Store, Hughes Department Store and several other small businesses downtown just before Christmas 1950.

The newspaper had four small pictures of the big fire a week later. Creation of Lake Cumberland didn’t fare so well. Only one photograph — a four-column aerial view of the new bridge spanning the lake-to-be on U.S 27 and the new Southern Railway bridge -- was used during a two-year period before the lake was impounded. The lake-related photograph was supplied to the newspaper by the Corps of Engineers. Nowhere did the newspaper use a picture of the encroaching water.

In fairness, with computers and digital cameras, it’s a snap this day and time to publish a photograph in the newspaper. A half century ago, it was much more difficult. A photograph, usually taken with a standard press camera with film and flashbulb, had to be developed, printed and sent to Lexington for an metal engraving. It was an expensive and time-consuming process.

A conservative attitude prevailed in this Bible Belt. The prospect of a lake and influx of outsiders gave pause to moralists. Even Corps of Engineers officials were cognizant of change, maybe for the worse.

“Oftentimes people on vacation will do things they might not do at home where they are more vulnerable to public opinion,” cautioned Col. Raymond Meekins. He made the remark while speaking to the Somerset Presbyterian Men’s Club in May 1950, just a few months before Lake Cumberland would become a magnet for tourists.

Meekins suggested to the church group that a Wolf Creek Reservoir Association be formed “ ... to keep the reputation of the reservoir above reproach.” The comment by the Corps official some 57 years ago would be considered unusual, even naive, in this 21st century.

Those were the days before television. Entertainment choices were limited. The same man -- Col. Tom Parker -- peddled Hadacol and promoted Elvis. The King started out on Sun Records and Hadacol was in every medicine cabinet.

Polio was a crippling disease threatening children. Jonas Salk had not discovered the vaccine that eradicated the infectious virus.

The tobacco market was a top news item. Burley was selling just under 50 cents a pound, a giddy price in those days.

Somerset had telephone operators and party lines. The lunch counter at J.J. Newberry Company was the most uptown thing in downtown. And, of course, there were the delicious Holsomback hamburgers.

The bypass, now known as six-lane “restaurant row” with 29 signaled intersections, had not been built. A two-car garage was only a dream.

The post office at Oil Center closed Feb. 28, 1950. The Commonwealth commented editorially that “Oil Center lost its identity on February 28.” The heartbeat of Oil Center was muffled by rising waters of the lake.

Somerset was a typical mountain community. Everybody came to town on Saturday and people lined the streets. Well groomed men got a haircut once a week, whether needed or not, and barbershops were crowded.

The state Legislature made Somerset a 3rd-class city on June 15, 1950. The city and county were at odds over who owned Fountain Square. The county eventually won after a court fight and refused to allow the city to carve a street through the downtown centerpiece.

Now, well into its sixth decade, Lake Cumberland is a vacation destination for millions, attracting more visitors than Yellowstone National Park. Times have changed, but no one has blamed the water for being a drain on morality. There are occasional reports of topless maids sunning on plush houseboats but the reports are usually secondhand.

The Ky. 80 and southeastern bypasses have given the “Ohio Navy” new routes to the lake. One of the major concerns on a busy summer weekend during the early 1950s was how to get the cars and boats around Fountain Square in the center of town.

Despite the hateful bare banks along the lake, there is light at the end of the tunnel. Permanent repairs are planned at the dam and the community will survive.

J. Dudley Webb, the Lexington entrepreneur who wants to build a lodge on General Burnside Island State Park, said it best: “The lake will return to normal ... we’ll go from there.”