Reliving the Howe Tornado

May 5, 1961 was a muggy day and we were under a tornado watch, as Oklahoma is on many days throughout the Spring and Fall months. In fact, we can never be sure on any given day throughout the year that a tornado won't come calling.

Late in the afternoon, a number of us were gathered around a neighbor's storm cellar, watching the sky to the northwest. Suddenly there were exclamations from the crowd as a black, swirling mass sprang up in the direction of the little town of Howe, which is about 5 miles north of Heavener, our hometown. Some of the older people with more weather knowledge than I possessed said it was a tornado, and probably at Howe. Someone with a transistor radio (a new invention back then) was listening to the local station in Poteau, about 10 miles north of Howe. Within a few minutes, the announcer excitedly conveyed the news that Howe had just been struck by a tornado. He was calling for emergency workers to help locate and transport survivors to the hospital.

My husband grew up in Howe, and still had an uncle living there. He wanted to rush up there to check on his uncle, but realized our car was almost out of gas (a mistake we seldom make since then). That wouldn't have been a problem, except by then the power was off in Heavener and probably all over the area. We were appalled to realize that gas pumps won't work without electricity. So he just had to sit it out and wonder about the welfare of his relatives till the electricity was restored.

The next day the power was back on and my husband hurried to fill the gas tank so he could go see about his uncle. By then the radio station was constantly updating its list of storm victims, most of whom my husband knew well. He wouldn't allow me to go with him to check on his uncle, as I was expecting our first child in about 4 months and he didn't think it would be good for me to see the aftermath of the storm. So he went alone, and was able to drive almost to his uncle's home before being blocked by debris.

He returned with the news that half the town was virtually wiped out. The house on the property where he had grown up had been rebuilt after a fire had destroyed the original house shortly after my husband and his parents had moved out. The house that had replaced it had been destroyed by the tornado, and a young man and his baby were killed when the house was hit.

My husband's uncle lived a few blocks from where that house had been. He, his wife, and a daughter had just started to eat their evening meal when they heard the noise of the approaching tornado. Since they didn't have a storm shelter, they ran a block to a neighbor's cellar, and were, thankfully, unharmed.

Their house was not as fortunate. They returned to find the house still basically in one piece, but the tornado had picked it up and moved it over several feet, where it set it down on top of their dog. They had to cut a hole in the floor to free the dog, which was still alive, but which died soon afterwards. There had been a bowl of strawberries on the table when they left. Although their house was damaged so badly it had to be torn down and rebuilt, the bowl of strawberries was still sitting where they had left it, with not a berry spilled.

There were, as is always the case with tornadoes, many amazing stories of survival. The tornado picked up one man and carried him for several blocks before it dropped him. He was badly injured, with a board driven between his shoulder blades, but survived and lived several years after that. For the rest of his life, doctors often had to pick glass, etc. out of his skin. When he died several years later, it wasn't from injuries sustained in the tornado, but from lung cancer. He had been a heavy smoker for many years.

The tornado caught the family of the Assembly of God pastor off guard. They were in their house, but had no time to get in the bathtub or closets, as experts advise to do when a tornado approaches. He and his wife had several children, and the family was happy to find them all relatively unscathed in the wreckage of the house after the tornado passed, except for the two-year-old boy who had disappeared. Word was quickly spread among survivors and a frantic search was started. Soon one of the searchers discovered the boy in the "malarial ditch" which was about 100 yards behind the house. (The malarial ditch is a long, stone-lined ditch dug through town many years ago to help drain water that might harbor mosquitoes.) The little guy was up to his neck in water, and injured severely, but he was alive, and recovered from his injuries.

A few blocks away, the pastor of the First Baptist Church was next door in the parsonage with his baby daughter, while his wife had gone to Poteau for a beauty shop appointment. He heard the tornado coming, and knowing the church building was constructed of sturdier materials than the parsonage, took his baby and ran into the church building. He crawled under a sturdy crib in the nursery, shielding the baby with his body. He could see the baby crying but couldn't hear her, as the tornado made so much noise it drowned out the sound of her crying. Both the church building and the parsonage were destroyed, but neither the pastor nor his baby was harmed.

For many days the news carried names of those who had died in the last few hours from injuries sustained in the tornado. Although there were well over 20 people killed, those surviving felt blessed to be alive. But they would never be the same as before.

Two of my husband's friends were to be married in that church the following Saturday night, but had to change their plans after the building was destroyed. Instead, the wedding was held in a school building a few miles away. Years later when the school was consolidated with another and the building was put up for sale, that couple bought it and converted it into a house. During the remodeling process, they built a storm cellar beneath the floor of their bedroom. A trap door to the cellar was concealed beneath a rug about three steps from their bed, a concession to the fear brought on by their experience with the Howe tornado.

Just a year earlier, to the day, a tornado had hit Wilburton, which is 40-something miles west of our town. Some of our local young people were attending college in Wilburton, as had my husband a few years earlier. Although many of the downtown businesses were destroyed, none of our local people perished there, although as I recall, there were some fatalities.

After the May 5th tornados in Wilburton and Howe, that date became known as Tornado Day in our area, and residents always stay alert to weather reports on that day. Of course any time there are storms predicted for our area, regardless of the time of year, we are always aware that a tornado could come calling. In this part of the country few houses have been built with basements in recent years. This is due to the water table being so near the surface, which makes it very difficult to keep water out of basements. But many new houses built on higher elevations are now being built with basements to serve as protection from tornadoes.

Many people are having "safe rooms" installed when they build a house, or have storm cellars, which are usually concrete or metal "boxes" set underground. Ours is about six by six-feet-square, and is placed a few steps from our garage door. While we seldom go in it, we try to keep it cleaned and ready during storm season, in case we feel a need to go in it.

Living through an experience as we did, where friends and acquaintances lose their lives in a tornado, will cause the bravest soul to make every effort to avoid becoming the victim of one.