#36 — A Tornado Strikes The City

Friday May 16th, in the middle of the afternoon, a totally unexpected EF-3 wedge tornado ripped through Clayton, Forest Park, the Central West End, North City and crossed the river into Illinois.

The last tornado to hit the city in such a devastating way was in 1927.

The whole day felt off. Silouan left late for work in the morning, which isn’t all that out of the ordinary… but I was at ease knowing (desperately hoping) that he probably wouldn’t have to work extra late. His employer is very good about granting early release when the weather looks bad. Softball sized hail was the topic of discussion at that time. And much to my relief, Alex was on his way home by 1 P.M. Because of the sort-of-half-day, it didn’t feel like a Friday. The nasty weather that had been predicted to strike us with great intensity was nowhere to be found. Odd.

Everyone was out and about when it hit. A lot goes on in a busy city at 2:41 P.M. on a Friday - people up in the arch, driving home from work, setting up for Friday evenings wedding in the park etc. This makes it an absolute wonder that only 5 people lost their lives. However… I question the accuracy of that number. The people of North City have long been overlooked by much of St. Louis, so if there are still people missing… who’s actually going to report it?

4;45 P.M. I grabbed the limited first aid supplies I had, along with some gloves and a hammer, got in the car, and drove towards a church where the roof had collapsed and people were still trapped inside. 5:01 P.M. I called Baggins for backup, he called some of his buddies, and within minutes we had a small team together. I picked up a couple of the guys and we hustled north after a quick stop at Home Depot for more supplies. It took three times longer than usual to get there because almost every road was obstructed by fallen trees, power lines, bricks, and pieces of roofs.

When we finally arrived, just four cops stood at the collapsed church (who’se members had sent out an s.o.s. to the community because first responders had been too busy elsewhere) With what little help they had, they had managed to rescued all but one person. There was nothing we could do. We found out later that the remaining person had passed away beneath the rubble. The officers nonetheless were very happy to see some extra help since the mayor had just sent out an announcement asking people to stay out of the city and leave the work and rescuing to first responders only. Sheesh.

We were instructed us to go through the surrounding neighborhoods and see if others needed help. We set out trying to gauge as best as we could where to start. Everywhere looked dismal. A few locals suggested we try Cates St just a few blocks south. As we made our way down, we called out whenever we passed a totally collapsed building to see if anyone was trapped inside. As far as we know, everyone who lived on the streets we covered were alive and and not badly injured. The neighbors all seemed to know each other very well and tell us who was home at the time and which houses were vacant. We offered supplies to whoever we ran into, but most people didn’t ask for anything, they wanted to make sure there was enough for others. In the end, we had some takers for blue Gatorade, and sanitary wipes. With no medical emergencies to attend to, we started hacking away at debris in the roads to clear a path for those lucky enough to still have functioning cars (so many of them were completely smashed by trees and even more scary, power lines) by the end of the night with the help of all the neighbors coming together (even small children who were so excited to use the work gloves we were handing out to adults) we got one road completely clear. Just in time for the Spire man to make his way to the gas leak we had all been breathing in. There was a small sense of victory that we all shared just for a moment.. and then as the sun was fading...

“Do you know where we’re supposed to go? The Red Cross should be here soon right? They’re gonna put us up in hotels right?”

No help came. At least, not until the next day. And a lot of them would be denied care.

The overall optimistic atmosphere had changed after sunset. The fear had set in for those still waiting for help, starting to face the reality that no one was coming. Others decided to fully embrace the chaos and had started partying in the streets. We offered water to one group camped out on a street corner.

“No ma’am! No thank you! I’ve got my tequila so I’ve got everything I need!”

Sometime around 9:30 P.M. we got back to the car. No street lights. Live wires on the ground. Nails and glass everywhere. We lit the road with our headlight as we drove back to south city. Everyone to fend for themselves in the dark.

None of us have seen this kind of devastation in our own city before. I saw what the Moor tornado did in Oklahoma back in 2013, infinitely more horrifying, everything was flattened to the ground. But man, mentally, it hits so different when it happens to your own town.

Road sodies on the way back, straight to Baggin’s apartment to chug a couple beers, then a walk to Cafe Nova for a stiff gin and tonic.

Seven days later, I met a man and he told me he and his family (4 children including a four month old) had been denied care by every organization except the Salvation Army who had arranged a small room for them to stay in the night before. Those kids lived in a home with no roof or AC for six days.

The mayor is an idiot.

-Lydia