Miracle At Niagara -- 7-Year-Old Survived A Plunge Over The Falls, But He Never Sought To Capitalize On His Tale

HUNTSVILLE, Ala. - As the Niagara River reaches its falls, the mighty waters are traveling at almost 50 mph and more than 1.5 million gallons pour over the 165-foot cliff every second. On July 9, 1960, a 7-year-old boy named Roger Woodward unwillingly went along for the ride - and lived to tell about it.

Roger and his 17-year-old sister, Deanne, were taking a boat ride with their father's friend, Jim Honeycutt, when the boat capsized on the river and they were caught in rapids.

Deanne managed to swim to shore, but Honeycutt and Roger were carried over the falls. Honeycutt was killed, but Roger miraculously escaped with only a minor head wound.

Roger Woodward thus became the only human being ever to survive a plunge over Niagara Falls without protective gear.

The story made front-page headlines across the nation in 1960, and everyone - newspaper, radio, television - wanted a chance to talk to the young boy who beat the falls. The local news media were especially inquisitive - and intrusive.

"At the time, we were hounded by the press," says Woodward, who now lives in Huntsville with his wife and three sons.

"It was almost a frenzy," he recalls. "Mom suffered from illnesses, and my dad was in heavy construction work. We were a blue-collar family, living paycheck to paycheck. Then we were thrust into the limelight."

The news media never left them alone, and in 1962 the Woodwards left Niagara Falls, N.Y., to escape the unyielding notoriety. Woodward's parents told him and his sister never to talk about the incident with anyone.

"It was a family secret," Woodward says. "We never knew if we'd done something wrong or not."

The story has since achieved near-legendary status around Niagara. Four years ago, Woodward and his sister returned to Niagara Falls to participate in a Canadian documentary about the accident. "It was the first time in 34 years we'd sat down and talked about it," he says.

Woodward then discovered that being open about the incident provided emotional relief. "It's been one of the greatest therapies," he says.

He returned to Niagara Falls again recently to film a sequence about the accident for a two-hour documentary. "Niagara," which covers 300 years of history, will air on The History Channel in the spring of 1999.

"I'm not uncomfortable today," says Woodward, now vice president of a communications services firm.

He isn't seeking fame or fortune from the story. He and his sister have never wanted to write their own accounts of the tragedy, and they've never tried to sell any film or TV rights.

"The greatest gift is that my sister and I are both still alive," Woodward says.

Woodward stressed to A&E that his and his sister's story shouldn't be lumped with the reckless daredevils who have tackled the falls in barrels and other apparatus. Fifteen such thrill-seekers have taken the plunge; five died.

"On that day, God was merciful," Woodward says. "I really feel that God's hands were in this."

The day of the miracle

Woodward's family came from Greensburg, Pa. His father, Frank, was involved in heavy construction work, and he took his wife and two children wherever the jobs were.

The Woodward family lived at Sunny Acres Mobile Home Park near Niagara Falls. "It was like a gypsy environment, all these workers from all around," Woodward recalls.

On the scorching afternoon of Saturday, July 9, Honeycutt invited the Woodwards to join him for a boat ride on the Niagara River.

The parents couldn't go, but the Woodward children were eager for a way to beat the summer heat.

"I was pretty excited," Woodward says. He recalls one critical stipulation dictated by his parents. "They made me wear a life jacket."

So young Roger and Deanne Woodward joined Jim Honeycutt in his 12-foot aluminum fishing boat, powered by a 7.5-horsepower outboard motor. Roger kept his life jacket on, and there was only one other life jacket in the boat.

"Deanne and I had no idea we were on the upper Niagara River," Woodward says. "We thought we were just on the river going on a pleasure ride."

The trio passed under Grand Island Bridge, and Woodward recalls nearby boaters staring at them incredulously.

"That bridge pretty much marks the point of no return for most folks," Woodward says. "Most people have no business going past the bridge. There were numerous boat inlets past it, but those were people who lived there and knew the water."

Woodward will never know why Honeycutt was risking traveling closer to the falls. "Maybe he was just trying to give us a thrill, or maybe he just didn't know where he was," Woodward says.

"Jim was going toward the U.S. side. As we approached the parks over there, there was a shoal, and many seagulls were there. The engine hit a rock, and we sheared a pin." The boat motor had lost a critical safety device.

"The engines were roaring, and the boat started moving faster, and Jim couldn't control it," Woodward says. "The seagulls were screeching. Jim yelled to Deanne to put the vest on. He manned the oars and he shut the engine off, but now we were caught in the current."

The water was traveling at nearly 40 mph through Class 5 rapids. "We hit two waves," Woodward says. "The first caught us stern first. Deanne had just gotten one clasp of her jacket hooked when a second wave hit us. It flipped us over."

Woodward recalls something hitting his head very hard.

"I remember being disoriented," he says. "I couldn't swim on top of the water. I never learned how. My dad owned a small above-ground pool, and I knew how to hold my breath underwater."

The small boy was wearing an adult-size life jacket.

"It could have slipped off," he says. "I'm not sure if it was secure. The water was chilly. The rapids were the most brutal part of the accident. The water was treating me like a toy. One minute I'm thrown up in the air, and the next I'm being thrown on the rocks."

Woodward, bobbing around in the upper Niagara rapids like a cork, still had no idea what was ahead.

"My sister was a strong swimmer," he says. "We didn't go toward the U.S. falls (which have jagged rocks at their foot). The Horseshoe Falls are much larger, but there's a pool at the bottom.

"My sister was being beaten up. She tried to stay with the boat because that's what she thought she was supposed to do. But it was hurting her to hang on to it. She started to swim, and she tried looking for me. She's in some of the worst water in the world, trying to get to shore."

John Hayes - a New Jersey truck driver and auxiliary state policeman - was a tourist that day on Goat Island, which lies between the U.S. and Horseshoe Falls. "He saw a boat go by toward the falls," Woodward says.

"Lots of people were looking at it and saying what an unusual sight that was. John Hayes knew something was wrong. He started looking around in the water, and he saw my sister trying to get to the shore. He started to scream to her, `Girl, come to me!'

"She couldn't see him. She just homed in on his voice. She couldn't see the falls. She didn't know how close she was. No one could go in and save her."

By this time, Deanne was probably less than 50 feet from the falls, and things were happening very fast. In a matter of seconds, she would be going over.

"Hayes was on the edge of the protective railing, and he reached out for her," Woodward says. "She missed him the first time. He reached out and grabbed for her again. She caught his thumb 20 feet from the falls."

Several tourists stood nearby, stunned by what was happening. One of them, John Quattrochi, realized Hayes probably couldn't rescue Deanne by himself.

"He raced down to the edge and helped get my sister out of the water," Woodward says.

"Meanwhile, I'm bobbing around. My fear and panic had turned to anger. I saw people running up and down the shoreline, but nobody was coming in to save me, and I couldn't understand why."

Woodward recalls thinking it was over at that point - even though he still was unaware of the falls.

"I was 7 years old, no one was coming to rescue me, and I knew I was going to die," he says. "Your life really does pass before your eyes. I thought about my family, how they were going to miss me. I thought about my dog. I thought about my friends."

Suddenly, everything became very peaceful.

"The water is much calmer before you hit the falls," Woodward says. "I guess I suffered vertigo. It was like I was in a cloud. The only sensation I had was this throbbing on the right side of my head, and vertigo."

Woodward doesn't remember falling 162 feet, nor does he recall hitting the water.

"All I remember was that everything went dark," he says. "I don't remember hitting, being forced under. I had no idea what was up or down. You couldn't see because of the mist rising from the falls.

"I came out of it, and there was this 60-foot ship."

That boat was the Maid of the Mist II, one of several steamers that to this day give tourists a close-up view of the foaming water and fallen rocks at the base of the falls.

"They had just finished their trip, and a person on board saw me and told the captain," Woodward says. "I wasn't out of danger. I was being pulled toward a hydroelectric intake pipe."

Capt. Clifford Keech maneuvered his boat to get a life line to the boy. "They threw it to me three times, and they got it to me and pulled me out of the water," Woodward says. The life jacket had stayed on him.

"I was taken to a Canadian hospital, and I remember very caring, comforting people. I was telling them my sister and Jim were still out there. A nurse, Eleanor Weaver, told me that maybe my sister was still alive."

Deanne Woodward had been taken to an American hospital. Hayes, standing on the observation deck on Goat Island, saw Roger being rescued by the tourist boat down below. He told Deanne her brother had somehow survived the fall.

"She had scrapes and bruises, and I had a slight concussion," Woodward says.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Honeycutt was killed. He went over the Horseshoe Falls. They found him down river."

After the falls

Frank Woodward and his family eventually relocated to Lakeland, Fla., where he found himself immersed in several major construction jobs. Deanne still lives in Lakeland, and Roger will always refer to it as "home."

Roger Woodward graduated from Southern Mississippi University and married. He and his wife, Susan, have three sons: Christopher, 18, Jonathan, 15, and Daniel, 11.

Woodward has taken his two oldest sons to Niagara on separate trips to provide them with the proper visual imagery of what he and his sister endured that day 38 years ago. Soon it will be Daniel's turn to visit.

"Any time I get close to Niagara, there's a natural respect for the power of the falls," Woodward says.