May 25 Tornado Anniversary Marks Change in Preparedness 05/15/03

MANHATTAN, Kan. – On May 25, 1955, a tiny map spot called Udall, Kan., disappeared at about 10:30 p.m. Over half of the town’s 610 residents were injured or dead. They were victims of what still is the most recent entry on the U.S. Storm Prediction Center’s list of "25 Deadliest U.S. Tornadoes."

Their plight also brought rapid change in weather forecasting and severe weather warning systems nationwide, said Mary Knapp, State of Kansas climatologist.

Udall Is Back, But Different

UDALL, Kan. – City Clerk Gina Hoffman is part of the generation whose parents survived the 1955 tornado in Udall.

"It’s wonderful here. I love it," Hoffman said. "Yes, I get a little nervous in bad weather, but one way it’s different here now is that we have a lot more basements!"

Today, Udall is home to about 850 residents – even more than on that day almost 50 years ago when the town simply disappeared. But it’s still small enough that when those residents drop by to pay utility bills, many of them also sit down to talk.

"There are still people in town who refuse to talk about the tornado. They have too many bad memories," Hoffman said. "Others are willing to tell everything they remember. They’re glad to be alive and glad to pass on information to other people. They’re really interesting to listen to."

Downtown isn’t quite the size it was in 1955, she said. For example, the grocery store and variety store are no longer open. For that and other types of work, many residents now commute the 22 miles to Wichita.

In the aftermath of the storm, however, Udall residents not only rebuilt their homes and lives but also planted trees – "lots and lots and lots of trees," Hoffman said. "We also have two beautiful parks that hold the new watertower and a wonderful memorial stone with everyone’s name on it who died that day."

The local police wear a badge with 83 stars, representing the people who died.

The Udall Museum contains a treasure trove of memorabilia from that fateful May 25. Local residents don’t necessarily spend much time there, Hoffman said. But it attracts frequent out-of-town visitors, who – to their dismay – find its small-town hours are very limited.

"People are in here all of the time, wanting to see the museum," she said. "I call and the folks here are really good about trying to come in to open it up."

Udall now has its own Website, however, and its link to the museum page (http://www.cityofudall.com/udall2.htm) has instructions on how visitors can make their own appointment.

"Compared to the what’s known from the earliest records through 1955, U.S. fatality statistics now are truly remarkable. As we’ve found out this spring, the weather certainly hasn’t gotten any better. But when a storm system similar to this spring’s hit back in 1925, the nation set its all-time worst record – 689 tornado deaths in the tri-state area of Missouri, Illinois and Indiana," said Knapp, who heads the Kansas Weather Data Library, based with Kansas State University Research and Extension.

Steve Ballou of Manhattan, Kan., was a boy in 1955. His dad took him to Udall as soon as they heard the news about the destruction. Russ Ballou wanted to offer the use of heavy equipment from Ballou Construction in Salina to help in the storm’s aftermath.

"All I remember seeing is streets, sidewalks and fire hydrants – like a new housing addition about to be built. No one was going through their damaged home looking for a favorite teddy bear or family pictures. Except for one house on the far northwest side of town, there wasn’t much of anything left. My dad and I just had to turn around and go back home," Ballou said.

Udall’s destruction had been the culmination of three days of severe weather affecting Americans from Amarillo, Tex., to Buffalo, N.Y. The weather spawned 110 tornadoes, one of which snatched a B-16 bomber from the sky, killing its 15-man crew. But the worst was a giant F5 (most severe class) that roared through Blackwell, Okla., across the border into Kansas, across Udall, and part of the way toward Wichita. Skipping – but never more than 3.5 miles – the killer tornado was on the ground for over 50 miles.

"The Weather Bureau – now known as the National Weather Service – was in the early days of experimenting with trying to warn people about potentially bad storms. There had been a lot of resistance to the idea – worries that those kinds of warnings could lead to panic," Knapp said.

The Weather Bureau issued its first alert that day right after noon. Udall was just outside the "watch" zone.

The night the tornado struck, Wayne Keelys, Udall’s town marshal in 1955, was at home watching TV with his family and some local children. His recollections are part of the records in the Udall Museum:

"I remember that there had been a tornado watch out earlier in the night, that it was canceled an hour and a half BEFORE the tornado hit. The first warning we had was the noise. It was like a jet aircraft coming into town. ...

"After the tornado passed, we came out of the cellar. I looked down at my watch and it read 10:41 p.m. The first thing I saw was a neighbor laying in a flooded street. One of the neighbors came up and said

that my sister had been found in a ditch with a 2x4 through her. She made it – how, I don’t know – but she pulled through.

"There was a 1952 Chevy pickup in the tree in my front yard. The owner of the truck was found dead later outside of town. I walked through the damage. I remember not being able to tell what part of town I was in."

Weather bureau records show that at 9:50 p.m. the bureau updated its alert, expanding the hazardous zone and including Udall until 3 a.m. Unless they were listening to their radio, however, Udall residents didn’t get that message.

According to full-page coverage in the June 6 Time magazine that year, radio-listening wasn’t a big activity in Udall on May 25. That evening, close to 100 women attended a wedding shower given for local teacher Aileen Holtje in the town’s community center. A number of men had spent the same time across the street in Eddie Taylor’s pool hall.

By the time the tornado struck, many Udall residents were preparing for bed or asleep. The wedding shower’s dozen-member clean-up committee was still in the community center. The women clung to each other, got knocked around, but survived. Eddie Taylor and six other men all died across the street.

Eddie’s mother, Mary, died at the town switchboard. Outside phone connections with Udall broke at exactly10:29 p.m.

Weather Bureau records show that in a matter of minutes, the new $250,000 high school was gone, along with the old grade school. A 30x40-foot concrete block building had become a relatively clean floor, surrounded by four walls, exploded outward. Railroad cars had been blown around like yard debris. The municipal water tower was a crumple of steel.

Time magazine reported that three days later and miles away, someone found one of Aileen Holtje’s wedding presents – lavender and yellow sheets. Everything else was gone.

"Radar’s use for weather was still in its infancy. Within months, however, the Weather Bureau was leading its first spotter training classes, and people were eager to help. Ham radio operators were preferred, because this new corps of volunteers got their own frequency, so they could communicate directly to local emergency units," Knapp said. "Much that makes today’s weather warning system effective has been an outgrowth of what got coordinated or originated when Udall disappeared for a while."

K-State Research and Extension is a short name for the Kansas State University Agricultural Experiment Station and Cooperative Extension Service, a program designed to generate and distribute useful knowledge for the well-being of Kansans. Supported by county, state, federal and private funds, the program has county Extension offices, experiment fields, area Extension offices and regional research centers statewide. Its headquarters is on the K-State campus, Manhattan.