Till The Storm Passes By

During a recent singing at my church, friends Rob and Debbie sang Mosie Lister's great song, "Till The Storm Passes By." Before they sang, Debbie spoke about how God spared her family from a tornado that completely destroyed their brand new home in 1998, and how a shelter Rob had built in the basement had protected them from harm. For me, it was an all too familiar story of a tornado that came to my family's home when i was a small child.

The date was March 19, 1963. We lived in an apartment above my grandparents' garage at 601 Hopkins Street. My parents had gone out of town that day and my grandmother, Dimple Speck, was left to babysit us kids; Mike (4), Randy (me, age 3), Darilyn (2) and Ronnie (4 months). As a storm intensified outside, my grandmother looked out a window just in time to see the tornado that was fastly approaching. With only seconds to spare, she quickly gathered all of us together underneath the kitchen table and then, realizing she could not physically protect all of us at the same time, she told Mike and I to run to our parents' bedroom and get underneath the bed. We were overcome with so much fear that, no sooner had we got there, we decide to run back to the kitchen table.

By that time, the roof was already beginning to be pulled away from the building. My grandmother would later recall the haunting sound of hundreds of nails being ripped out of the wood. I cannot imagine how horrifying it must have been for her to see us running back to her at that moment. She was already holding our sister in one arm and our baby brother in the other. There was no way she could have physically handled two more kids, much less try to hold the table down.

My grandmother was a very spiritual woman. You could always find her sitting at the table with her bible either opened in front of her or laying beside her. There is no doubt that she did an awful lot of praying between the time she saw the tornado through the window and the sound of the roof coming apart. Instead of it crashing down on top of us, the tornado sucked the roof and most everything inside the apartment, outward. In the quiescence that followed, one thing that remained was that kitchen table, and all who were underneath it. God had spared my family, just like He spared Rob and Debbie and their family.

"Till the storm passes over
till the thunder sounds no more
till the clouds roll forever from the sky
hold me fast let me stand
in the hollow of thy hand
keep me safe till the storm passes by"

The Tornado at Beaty Swamps

Shortly after midnight on Wednesday, May 10, 1933, Beatty Swamps, TN ( also known as Bethsaida), a small rural community located in Overton County, Tennessee, approximately 6.7 miles from Livingston, was struck by an F4 tornado that completely devastated the community. The funnel, anywhere from one-half to three-quarters of a mile wide, destroyed every home in the community, and killed or injured virtually every single resident. Much of the area was swept clean of debris. This is the second deadliest tornado ever to strike Middle Tennessee.

There have been tornadoes that have gained greater notoriety, such as the Super Outbreak of April 3, 1974, but never has a tornado affected a community as completely as the one that struck Beatty Swamps.

According to the National Weather Service, it had been a humid evening in the rural Cumberland Plateau community. In nearby Allardt, the temperature that Tuesday afternoon had climaxed at 82 degrees, a warmer-than-normal reading for early May. Haze was said to be thick, and "the storm was preceeded by a flashing electrical storm and a high wind," wrote correspondent Samuel K. Neal in the Livingston Enterprise newspaper.

"This little mountain settlement bore the brunt of Tuesday night's storm when it climaxed into a tornado early Wednesday morning, leaving more than a score dead and as many or more injured," he wrote.

The tornado struck with terrible suddenness. Beginning at Eagle Creek, northwest of Bethsaida, the twister moved in a zig-zag line three-quarters of a mile wide, spent its fury here, and ended near West Fork, a distance of about eleven miles from its beginning. In its wake it left the worst destruction this section of Tennessee has ever seen.

Neal wrote, "While natives of this vicinity, two miles East of Monroe, searched the wooded hills of eastern Overton County for other bodies, residents predicted more deaths would be registered by the week-end. It will be impossible to make an accurate check of the death toll for some days, on account of the inaccessibility of the region."

Houses were torn down wholesale. Barns with their contents, including farm machinery, were swept away as if they had been match boxes. A farmer's binder was blown from his barn to a field 500 yards distant, and was left a worthless scrap of twisted iron. A new automobile was swept along for hundreds of feet and left a wrecked mass.

The horror of the storm was emphasized by the broken, twisted, torn bodies lying in a morgue at the Blount Funeral Home in Livingston. The most touching scene of all was the family of Eunice Cole, man, wife, and seven children, ranging in age from two to fourteen. All were killed, probably in their sleep. They were found near their home site in their night clothes, their bodies covered with grime and scraps of debris.

"More horrible was the manner in which some of the bodies were found," wrote Neal. "Their bones broken into an incongruous mass, and on two, body parts were missing."

The tornado brought its share of freaks. A square of floor linoleum was found driven into a tree; a two-by-four plank was driven completely through an automobile tire; a millet straw was found driven into a fruit tree.

But most peculiar of all was at the home of Will Crawford, whose house was blown away, as were all his outhouses and his barn. "In his chicken house," wrote Neal, "two hens were setting, and they were found this morning complacently perched in their nests under a pile of debris, busily hatching their eggs, oblivious to the destruction around them."

The Ewing Hull cabin was blown away that night. The family woke up on the ground.

A few days later, coffins for the Una Cole family - nine in all - lined up for burial in a neighbor's yard near the cemetery. The entire family was buried in a mass grave under one tombstone.

Ultimately, the tornado at Beaty Swamps caused 33 fatalities and $100,000 in damages. Adjusted for inflation, that would be $1.87 million in damages in 2017.

After the tornado, Beaty Swamps ceased to exist. The only landmark that alludes to the former community is Beaty Swamp Road, which intersects Highway 111, 8.7 miles north of Livingston, 12 miles south of Byrdstown.

In 1993, meteorologist Tom Grazulis, who has written extensively about  tornadoes and is head of the Tornado Project, a company that gathers, compiles, and makes tornado information available to tornado and severe weather enthusiasts, the meteorological community and emergency management officials, noted that the Beaty Swamps tornado tracked northeastward for twenty miles, from near Livingston to near Byrdstown. However, in 2006, Mark Rose, a meteorologist with the National Weather Service at Old Hickory, Tennessee wrote that the twenty-mile tornado track asserted by Grazulis, does not appear possible, as the eleven mile path given by the Livingston Enterprise would have carried the tornado very close to Byrdstown. A twenty-mile track would have put the storm into Kentucky before lifting. Thus, Rose asserts the Beaty Swamps tornado tracked northeastward for eleven-miles, not twenty.

The day before the Beaty Swamps tornado, an F4 tornado swept through southern Kentucky, from southwest of Tompkinsville to northeast of Russell Springs. 36 people were killed, 18 in Monroe County, 14 in Russell County and two near Columbia from an F2 categorized tornado.

After May 10th, the next deadly tornado in the region was the outbreak on April 3, 1974.

The Sparing

The date was March 19, 1963. Two tornadoes struck minutes apart in Clinton County on this date. It was an unseasonably warm afternoon and it looked like it might rain. A dark cloud loomed on the horizon. Sure enough, along about two o'clock, a strong wind arose, accompanied by much hail and a torrential rainfall. Three-fourths of an inch of rain fell within five minutes.

One tornado struck in the Static, Beaty Creek and Duvall Valley communities. The Maupin United Methodist Church building was knocked six feet off its foundation. The home of Mr. and Mrs. Jack Beard was damaged. She was knocked unconscious but was not badly injured. At almost the same time, a second tornado struck West Albany, ripping the front off Ted Mills' Service Station on the Burkesville Road. Across the street, it brought down the screen at Albany Drive-In Theater. Luther Harlan's Filling Station, Phillips Auto Sales and Wisdom Filling Station were also damaged, as was Ferguson Feed Mill near Albany Cemetery.

Several homes were reported damage, the worst occurring two blocks south of Ted Mills' Service Station at an upstairs apartment at the end of Hopkins Street. In that apartment, a grandmother had sought safety underneath the kitchen table. In one arm was her three-month-old grandson. In the other arm were his two brothers, ages 3 and 4, and a two-year-old sister. I was the three-year-old. There had been almost no advance notice. My grandmother would later say she looked out the window just in time to see a huge black cloud coming straight at us. The apartment we were in was above a garage behind her house. There wasn't enough time to run downstairs to the basement in her home. My grandmother realized that with her arms busy holding her grandchildren, she had no way of holding onto the kitchen table we were all under. She instructed my older brother and I to run to our parents' bedroom and get under the bed, but it was too much for a couple of scared 3 and 4-year-old boys to handle and we went running back to my grandmother.  I can't imagine the thoughts of terror that ran through her mind when she saw us come running back. She only had time to put her arm around us when the tornado hit. Later, she would recall the haunting sound as hundreds of nails were ripped from the wood as the roof came off. I can recall the eerie calm after the storm, where everything seemed to be running in slow motion. Where the ceiling used to be, there was only the sky.

As we began to crawl out from under the table, the front door to the apartment burst open and in walked a strange girl. Her name, I would later discover, was Peggy Pickens. She and a friend had decided to skip school that day and were walking along Hopkins Street when the tornado struck and afterward, came running to the apartment. 22-year-old Weldon Gibson, whose family lived behind us, also ran to our home just seconds after the storm had passed. The stairway leading up to the apartment had been pulled loose from the side of the building, but that didn't stop Peggy and Weldon from climbing up the stairway to help us get out of that apartment. What brave heroes they were that day.

The Sparing

The date was Tuesday, March 19, 1963. 16-year-old Peggy Pickens was not at school that day. It was an unseasonably warm afternoon and it looked like it might rain. A dark cloud loomed on the horizon. Sure enough, along about two o'clock, a strong wind arose, accompanied by much hail and a torrential rainfall. Three-fourths of an inch of rain fell within five minutes. And then, the worst happened. Two tornadoes struck minutes apart. The first one hit West Albany, ripping the front off Ted Mills' Service Station on the Burkesville Road. Across the street, it brought down the Albany Drive-In Theatre screen. Several other businesses in or near West Albany were damaged, including Luther Harlan's Filling Station, Phillips Auto Sales and Wisdom Filling Station. Ferguson Feed Mill near Albany Cemetery was heavily damaged. A second tornado struck about the same time in the Static, Beaty and Duvall Valley communities. The Maupin United Methodist Church building was knocked six feet off its foundation. The home of Mr. and Mrs. Jack Beard was damaged. Mrs. Beard was knocked unconscious but was not badly injured. Back in town, several homes reported damage. The worst damage occurred at a residence at the end of Hopkins Street...601 Hopkins Street to be exact, two blocks south of Ted Mills' Service Station. In that apartment, which was above a garage, a grandmother, who was baby-sitting, had sought safety underneath the kitchen table. In one arm was her three-month-old grandson. In the other arm was his two brothers, ages 3 and 4, and sister, age 2.

I was the three-year-old.

There had been almost no advance notice. My grandmother would later say she looked out the window just in time to see a huge black cloud coming straight at us. There wasn't enough time to run downstairs and then over to the basement in her home. We were stuck there and my grandmother knew it. Seconds after climbing under the small kitchen table, she realized that with her arms busy holding her grandchildren, she had no way of holding onto the table. She shouted for my older brother and me to run to our parents' bedroom and get under the bed. But, just as quickly as we got there, we realized we were alone in a dark room, and for a couple of 3 and 4-year-old boys, it was too much to handle, so we went running back to my grandmother.

Knowing the tornado was headed straight for us, it must have been horrifying for her to see us come running back to the table. She only had time to put her arm around us when the tornado hit. I remember a noise that was so loud. The tornado was right on top of us. Only a small kitchen table separated us from possible injury or worse. With four children tucked away under her arms, my grandmother leaned forward enough so that we were sitting in a crouched position with our faces almost directly on the floor. Later, she would recall the haunting sound of hundreds of nails being ripped out of the wood as the roof came off. What a brave woman she was that day.

The roar of the tornado was defeaning. It was followed by an eerie calm, almost in slow motion, as we peeked out from under the table. Where the ceiling used to be, there was only the sky. Suddenly, it began to rain.

As we began to crawl out from under the table, the front door to the apartment burst open and in walked a strange girl. Her name, I would later discover, was Peggy Pickens. As fate would have it on that day, Peggy and a friend, who had skipped school with Peggy that day, were walking along Hopkins Street, near our home, when the tornado hit. 22-year-old Weldon Gibson's family lived behind our home. He ran to our home just seconds after the storm had passed. The stairway leading up to the apartment had been pulled loose from the side of the building and were badly beaten up by the storm. There was a big open space between the platform at the top and the door leading to the apartment. While Peggy's friend waited below, Peggy and Weldon cautiously, and courageously, began climbing up the loosened stairway. Step by step they climbed, higher and higher, until they finally reached the door to our apartment, and then, one by one, they carried us to safety below. The storm was over, and so was the nightmare it had brought to us, especially to my poor grandmother.

I do not know if there was ever any public acknowledgement of the brave rescue made by Peggy Pickens and Weldon Gibson that day, but I do know that my family has never forgotten it. To us, they will always remain our heroes.

Weldon Gibson is 73 years of age as of this writing (2015).

Peggy Jean Pickens Winningham passed away in 2009 at the age of 62. She was the daughter of Jonathan and Gleah Wright Pickens and wife of State Representative Leslie Winningham.