It was the first warm day of Spring and storms were forecast. Because it was Sunday, going to Church was the order of the day. This particular Sunday was special because it was the Sunday before Easter, Palm Sunday. As was our fashion, all six members of the family loaded into the station wagon for the 15 minute drive. The weather was weird out. It was alternately blue sky then a haze of green would take over. By the time we arrived at our Church, the wind was beginning to gust. Many older men who wore hats found themselves chasing that hat between the parked cars. Mothers were asking to be dropped at the front door so as not to destroy their newest hairdo. Unbeknownst to us, one of the worst series of tornados to ever hit Indiana was heading straight for us.
Safely inside the 75 year old brick building we turned our attention toward worship. Something about the atmosphere helped us forget the worsening weather outside. There were no cell phones in which to sneak a peak at weather reports. Even if there were, my Mother would not have allowed such a diversion in the Church Sanctuary. It was all eyes straight ahead focused on the Pastor and the choir. After the sermon and Sunday school classes were over, the family gathered to head for home. Dad had brought the car to the back door of the church and we ran between raindrops for safety. On the way home the car radio was on but not much was being said about the weather. As we rounded the corner to our house there was some activity happening in our driveway. Dave, a college student who rented a room from us, was packing up his car. When we pulled up next to him, he looked worried. He was in the National Guard and he had been put on alert for potential deployment somewhere in the state due to bad weather.
We all hurried inside to turn on the television for more up to date news. Nothing out of the ordinary was being broadcast. Mom instructed us to go to our rooms to change out of our “good clothes”. While we were following her instructions she was turning on her police scanner that was on the kitchen counter. Mom had been a Civilian Defense Volunteer during the late fifties and early sixties. She was familiar with the codes and warnings routinely blaring out of the speakers. Suddenly the air raid siren on the scanner began to wail. Almost immediately, the wall phone began to ring. Tornados were touching down in western Indiana and already major damage was being reported. Dave was instructed by phone to head to a staging area for soldiers immediately. Mom fixed him a sandwich and he was gone. We were all now huddled around the scanner. It seems that there was some sort of a hullabaloo going on as to the explanation of the difference between the words Forecast and Warning. Apparently the words were being used interchangeably between the radio and television broadcasters. It was being explained that Warning meant seek cover, a tornado had been spotted. Forecast meant that a chance was ripe for an occurrence.
Little brother one (LB1) and I were dispatched to the upstairs for blankets and pillows and Dad began to check on anything not tied down outside. Palm Sunday dinner was now an after thought. Simultaneously, we listened to the now cranked up TV in the living room, the radio in the kitchen and the police scanner. We were beginning to put the pieces together. Series of tornado outbreaks were being reported in three different parts on the state. There were apparently clusters of tornados and they were on the ground and heading straight for us. For the next seven or eight hours, we were alternately huddling in the downstairs bathroom or listening to the warnings being issued.
Indiana, in my youth, was made up of a series of small towns. Most clustered around a grain mill or small manufacturing concern. Many communities existing of no more than a couple of hundred buildings. The reports we were getting was that whole communities were being flattened and there was major loss of life. It was being reported that there were as many as fifty tornados confirmed. Our major concern was were was the closest one to us? Finally, the television flashed a predicted touch down trajectory. Thank God, it looked like it had missed us as it swung just to our north. There was something different about these tornados. Most touch downs in our experience, hopped and skipped across the ground. Sometimes leveling a barn but leaving the house nearby untouched. These were different, they were staying on the ground and were as wide, in some places, as two miles. Massive damage reports were beginning to come from every form of communication. Now that we were safe, our fear was for Dave, were was he?
The following morning, most men stayed home from work and all schools in our area were suspended. Television was now on the ground in the aftermath and reporting. It was not good. There had been, as was theorized by the State Police, three separate paths of destruction. it would eventually be confirmed that there were between 50 and 150 touch downs. Many towns were without power. Electricity in those days was delivered by wires that were strung about 20 feet in the air on wooden poles. In most places the poles had disappeared. The phone communication was generally on the same pole, so there was no phone service and it would not return for months. Fatality numbers were beginning to come in. It appeared it would be in the hundreds. Neighbors now gathered in the street outdoors to share stories and count heads. We still had one head missing. Where was Dave?
As the days stretched into a week we heard that the President of the United States was coming to surveil the damage. Russiaville, it was being reported, was completely destroyed. Not one building in the city had been left untouched. Stories began to surface that the young men, 18 years and older, who had registered for the draft would be temporarily “drafted” to help in disaster clean up. It did not happen. Then in the midst of all the chaos, Air Force One touched down and Lyndon Johnson descended the stairway and was ushered out into the rubble. He appeared genuinely shocked. Somewhere near Kokomo, he climbed atop a pile of rubble and gave reassurances that The Federal Government was going to help. Several hours later, a body was found beneath the debris upon which the president had stood.
It had now been seven days and we had not heard from Dave and were beginning to worry that he was among the missing. It was Sunday morning and we loaded into the station wagon and headed for Church. Slowly, our world was returning to normal. There was a lot of talk during the Church Service about donations needed both of money and time to help the neighboring communities. Everyone agreed to participate and signed up on the sheets on display in the vestibule. We lit a candle in Dave’s memory and prayed for his well being. Secretly, we all were beginning to fear the worst. That fear was also being displayed on our congregation’s faces. It was a quiet ride home while we all grappled with our worst fear.
As we came around the last curve on the way to the house, Dad saw it first and yelled, look. All eyes followed the finger on his hand. Dave was sitting on the bumper of his car that he parked in front of the house. A collective yell went up and my mom had tears in her eyes. The station wagon screeched to a stop and we jumped out and ran in the direction of Dave’s old car. He had the look of a man who had seen things that he never wanted to see again. As we hugged him and welcomed him home we began to realize that he had not had the benefit of bath in over a week. Dad had one question, “what are you doing out here? I forgot my key in all the excitement” he blushed. Mom dispatched him to the shower and instructed LB1 and I to carry in his duffel bag. Soon we were all sitting down to Easter dinner. Stories were exchanged and Dad and Dave took “a walk”.
Over one hundred people lost their lives and many cities were completely wiped out. It would take years to rebuild and reclaim a future. Thousands of Hoosiers were touched by the disaster and some schools were never rebuilt. The terms Forecast and Warning were explained time and time again on the nightly news broadcasts. Warning sirens were planned for all Indiana towns and communication cables began to be buried instead of elevated. The National Guard members were recognized in the newspapers and thanked on the streets and in the coffee shops. Considering all the damage, the loss of life was considered small. Speculation began to explain why so few had been killed. It was Sunday and folks were at home and the kids were not in school was the most predominate explanation. Also, the Church goers claimed that it happened on one of the holiest days, Palm Sunday,(that explanation could go either way).Whatever the reason, I don’t ever want to experience it again. Natural disasters would touch my life again in the future, but for now this would be the worst while growing up in the sixties.