Stories from the April 16, 1998 Tornado

The morning of April 16, 1998, as we were getting ready to dash out of the house for work and school, we watched the tornados forming in West Tennessee. My then-six year old, Rachel, said "Mom, what if the tornados come to Nashville?" I replied "Rachel, tornados don't hit cities, and we live very close to downtown".

She probably hasn't believed a word I've said since.

Bob picked up Brian and Rachel from school and had them at his shop in the 900 block of Main St., as was usually the case. Around 3:30, he heard on the radio that a tornado had touched down in Sylvan Park and was headed for Downtown Nashville. He went outside to see the approaching black clouds, and everything in the air was an eerie shade of grey/green. He proceeded to put motorcycle helmets on everyone's heads, and pack them in a car, away from the plate glass shop windows. They watched and waited. When the tornado hit, they saw everything imaginable flying by the window. When he saw a steel pole cemented in the sidewalk take a 45 degree angle, he realized there was no telling what shape our house was in, as it was one block up the street in Historic Edgefield.

Meanwhile, I was at my office on Music Row. Some associates meeting in the conference room looked up from their spreadsheets and someone said "That's a tornado!". Someone else had heard on a radio that a tornado had hit Downtown Nashville, but that's all the information we had, because we had no emergency plan at all. We proceeded down the stairs, fire-drill like, and peered outside to see what we could hear or see, which was not much. We headed back to our offices, everyone trying to contact their loved ones. After a while of trying to reach Bob on both his cell and land lines - to no avail - I decided to head for home. As I approached my car in the parking garage, I saw that a tire was flat. Damn! Little did I know what a blessing that was. A co-worker, Sandy, was behind me and volunteered to take me home. She had a 4-wheel Jimi and had to drive to Ashland City. Sandy was the opposite from me, calm and quiet. As we headed for east Nashville, Sandy had to change courses what seemed like fifty times. She calmly went over sidewalks, trees, yards, and at one point told me to close my eyes. When we went over the Jefferson Street bridge, and I saw that the cranes which were constructing LP Stadium had been tossed about like sticks, I knew I might not even have a house at all. We finally made our way close enough to walk up South 8th Street to the shop. I met my alley neighbor, Terri Dorsey Fannin. We hugged and cried - Terri told me she thought my family was still at the shop and that they were ok. Sure enough, they were. The roof of the shop was ripped apart, water dripping in everywhere, but the building directly behind the shop had an entire solid brick wall blown apart. Sandy decided to head out for Ashland City, I thanked her over and over for getting me home, but she never knew how much her help meant to me. I would have never gotten home in my car!

Bob had seen that the house was still standing, but that's all he knew. We walked up to Woodland Street, stepping over power lines, trees, roofs, everything you could imagine. We had what I could later classify as the "typical damage": roof, gutters, a column on the house, fence, etc. Our huge ash tree which sat about seven feet from the back of the house had fallen parallel to the house, and had flattened our motor home. The back yard was filled with trees, roofs, bricks, - it was a week or two before we could even get out the back door through the yard. Our dog Bucky had been mistakenly left chained up. There he was, wagging his tail. Our cats were hiding in the closet. Everyone was ok!

We enjoyed camping, so we had a 12 volt TV and lots of batteries and supplies. We said in shock that night and watched Channel 5's report news and messages via magic marker-signs as their audio was down because their station was hit. We hunkered down for the night. I'll never forget waking the next morning to the eeriest quiet ever - only the sounds of sirens. Our homeowners insurance, Liberty Mutual, was fantastic. I phoned them immediately the next morning, then ventured out for ice, candles, non perishables, and wine. When I returned, they were waiting for me, the house "tarped up" and ready to go over options. My husband's shop insurance was not so great, and it probably took him two years to recover and get the shop business back in line.

Over the next few days and weeks, we went through our lives as everyone else did, day by day. Each day faced tasks of the survival type. Are our neighbors ok? Should we go ahead and buy a generator? Do we have enough candles and lanterns? When I went to work the next Monday, of course everyone wanted to know my story. Then they went back to their cubicle or office and back to normal. That didn't happen for us for quite a long time.

On day two or three, our neighborhood association folks passed out flyers about how to get help. I learned that Margaret and Gene Hart, of Fatherland St., had set up a 24 hr kitchen. Gene was a contractor and had plenty of generators. Everyone was encouraged to bring their freezer/refrigerator perishing items and donate to the kitchen - and get some home cooked food. Neighbors were taking food to shut ins and those unable to get out. I became closer to the Harts and the entire neighborhood. Bob and I got to know our next door neighbors very well, we'd grill out stuff that from our freezers, and shared appliances...we had bought a generator that would run either a refrigerator or a washing machine. Trina used my washing machine and I used her gas-powered clothes dryer.

It was hard to see at the time, with so many beautiful churches, homes, and trees destroyed, but at the end of the day, it made us a stronger neighborhood. We got to know each other. The next weekend after the storn, then-mayor Bredesen organized the entire city to come to help downtown and east Nashville. Three young people from Bellevue appeared in our back yard and worked like dogs all day. I'm sure their little new white truck got scratched up. As I was giving them some drinks, I thanked them profusely. The young lady said "we're happy to help...the tornado didn't hit Bellevue". I can't ever tell that part of the story without crying.

For many weeks, the neighborhoods were a sea of blue tarps and whirring generators. Stories continued in the newspapers, long after I think the rest of Nashville had lost interest. But we came out so far ahead of where we were. The "Re Leaf" campaign helped us in planting new trees. Monies were raised to rebuild churches. Beautiful homes were renovated. People continued to help each other and get to know their neighborhood.

The afternoon the couple from Bellevue helped us clear our back yard, I saw the true wonder of the human spirit. In getting to know the Hart family, I found my church, East End United Methodist. In getting through the many ordeals, I leanred the true value of family and friendships. I have that to reflect on every day I am stressed and lost.

Yes, the tornado took from us - but it gave back so much more.



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