A True Tornado Tale

The coming of a tornado into our community always brings to my mind memories of another tornado, one which left behind it such havoc, utter desolation, and heart breaking anguish. It was the twister which swept thru Omaha on Easter Sunday in the year 1913. This storm left thousands of people homeless and destitute, besides taking several hundred lives.

Since the day was sunny and pleasant, with only an occasional light April shower, my brother and I decided that afternoon to attend an Easter Vesper Service in the city. My people were living in Dundee, a suburb on the west side of Omaha, north of Farnam street.

During the service it became quite dark, and the air seemed oppressive, so we got out on the street as quickly as possible when it was over. The sky was clouded over, except for a greenish-yellow space above the horizon. The air was very still. Rain was beginning to fall as we boarded a street car. Darker and darker it grew and more close and suffocating. We had proceeded only a few blocks up Farnam Street when a sudden terrifying wind rushed past, seeming to almost take our breaths with it. The car stopped, lightning flashed, and rain poured down. “Guess that was a twister all right,” said the conductor. “Now, how will all of you folks get home? This car will not go any farther.”

A few persons who lived within easy walking distance started out. But those of us bound for Dundee just sat there, we did not know what else to do. Presently a man on a bicycle came from the west. “All the houses in Dundee are laid flat.” he said. “Every thing torn up. The worst storm this town ever saw.” Then he rode on. That was pleasant news indeed.

In a short time, a man driving a team of horses to a light dray drove up. “Anybody in there who wants to go to Dundee?” he called. Immediately, several people answered “yes.” Five of us scrambled into the dray and were wet through in a minute as it was still raining furiously. Off we started up the street, crossing first to one side, then the other, to avoid heavy cables flashing with electricity, or a piece of a house or a tree which had been hurled into the street. Any direction we looked we saw houses burning, and everywhere confusion. One house was slightly damaged, while the next one was only a pile of kindling wood in the basement. As we passed one place, a gray-haired man was running back and forth across the front lawn. One knew by the dreadful agony on his face that he was searching for a loved one. A little farther up the street was a two-story brick apartment house from which the north wall had been completely stripped, and we could see all the rooms with the furniture set in order. At the corner of Fortieth and Farnam was a square, one-story, brick garage with a flat roof. Five or six, perhaps more, cars were on top of this garage, some standing upright, others on their sides or upside down.

Here we turned north, but after two or three blocks had to go east, for there were so many live wires on the pavement. As soon as the driver saw a fairly clear street, he turned north again. “Joslyn’s Castle,” built of stone, stood, except for slight injuries here and there; while frame houses nearby were either completely or partially demolished.

Thus we hurried along as fast as we could, among the telephone poles, trees, and portions of houses; keeping to the right direction in general, tho sometimes forced to turn out of our way. (And to think in those homes we passed were people dying, others pinned beneath heavy timbers, and parents searching for their children.) It soon became quite dark, but the dreadful scenes about us were lighted by constant flashes of lightning and houses burning. The nearer we came to our own neighborhood, the more uncertain and anxious we became, for some areas were almost completely destroyed and others were left untouched.

Finally arrived at the drayman’s home, we climbed out. After thanking the man for bringing us safely over so dangerous a route, my brother and I continued the remaining four or five blocks on foot. Still the lightning flashed, the thunder rolled, and the rain fell in torrents. But we took heart, for the nearer home we came, fewer signs of the storm were to be seen. A few minutes later, we stood in the little front hall, dripping wet, chilled and exhausted; but so thankful that our home and our family had been spared from the storm.