Posted on 06/16/2005 3:57:38 AM PDT by kingattax
A 1999 tornado killed Samantha and Deon Darnell's infant son and Deon's mother. The Darnells are pictured here with children born since the tragedy: Abigail, 4; Gabriel, 5; and Michael, 2. (Photo by Bryan Terry)
OKLAHOMA CITY -- The tornado was born to the southwest, a monster on the plains. A mile wide, the furious funnel of red dirt erased homes from foundations, tossed tractor-trailers, peeled pavement from earth and killed 36 people.
For thousands stuck in its path, the most urgent question -- to run or to hide -- arrived in an instant. A new analysis suggests fleeing, usually not recommended, was the best choice; the findings are expected to jump-start a long-standing debate on tornado survival.
Linda Wood, home from work, found her family in the driveway. Get back in the truck, they said. With their pregnant horse in tow, the Woods sped east. Their house exploded minutes later, as if hit by a gas bomb, neighbors said.
"We outran it," says Wood, tears spilling at the memory.
Deon Darnell had fewer options. Hailstones were battering his mobile home. He rushed next door to his parents' house, squeezing into a windowless closet with six relatives. They prayed aloud.
Moments later, windows shattered and house timbers snapped. When Darnell opened his eyes, his two-story boyhood house had vanished. His mother lay nearby, dead. His wife was unconscious. Their infant boy was gone.
"It pulled the water out of the ponds, and the grass out of the ground," Darnell said. "I wasn't even sure if I was on my property."
The decision to flee or take cover from a tornado requires instant calculus: When will it arrive? How big? If I stay, where can I find safety? Should I run for the car?
Those who study tornadoes have traditionally ranked the options: Underground storm shelters are best, followed by basements, bathrooms or closets without windows. Sprinting to a car or truck has never topped the list.
But the new study of Oklahoma's legendary May 3, 1999 tornado challenges the tenet that taking flight is foolishness. In that storm, people cowering at home were more likely to die than those fleeing in vehicles, according to the analysis newly published in the American Journal of Epidemiology.
The paper, authored by federal and state researchers who reviewed coroner and medical reports, plus survey responses from more than 600 survivors, confirms that people caught in mobile homes face the worst odds. In the giant Oklahoma City tornado, they were 35 times more likely to die than those in permanent houses.
But the more provocative finding -- that those who tried to out-maneuver the tornado fared as well or better than those who hunkered down in homes -- is bound to stir controversy.
About 16 percent of people in the Oklahoma storm path tried to flee, researchers estimated. Two people were killed trying to reach their vehicles. Two others, killed under highway overpasses, which can act like wind tunnels in tornadoes, may have been fleeing.
Twenty-eight people died in their homes.
Relying on their sampling, the researchers calculated that people fleeing in vehicles had a 40 percent lower risk of death than those hiding in homes, including houses, apartments and mobile homes.
Better weather forecasting and advanced warnings, extensive TV coverage and increasingly sturdy cars may have helped people escape the tornado, said the paper's lead author, Dr. W. Randolph Daley, a researcher at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
The findings suggest tornado safety guidelines may need modifying, but Daley and others noted that the Oklahoma tornado was an unusual beast. Its size attracted massive attention, and its duration -- nearly 90 minutes -- provided lots of warning. Other tornadoes have resulted in numerous vehicle-related casualties.
"It raises a lot of questions about fleeing," cautioned co-author Sheryll Brown, an Oklahoma State Department of Health epidemiologist. "You have to consider traffic tie-ups and panic. It's really a difficult issue."
The Oklahoma tornado was actually one of 61 twisters that hit the state on that Monday afternoon and evening. It was the largest tornado outbreak in state history, and the biggest tornado claimed 36 of the 40 people killed.
The largest was spotted at 6:23 p.m. about 30 miles southwest of downtown Oklahoma City. It drilled northeast through rural areas, winds quickly jumping from 100 mph to nearly 300 mph -- the first category F5 tornado recorded in Oklahoma history.
Ground zero was Bridge Creek, a small rural community absent from most maps. First came hail, then unimaginable fury -- mobile homes swept from their foundations or obliterated, inch-thick asphalt sucked from a rural road, cars tossed a quarter-mile. Twelve died in Bridge Creek.
Trudging northeast, the tornado stripped paint off fire hydrants and sucked the eyeballs from a horse. Entire housing developments were leveled. In Oklahoma City, an airplane wing fell from an airport 40 miles away. In an industrial zone, a 18-ton rail left gouge marks as it bounced across an open field.
When the tornado finally died east of downtown, its legacy was complete: 1,800 homes destroyed and $1 billion in damage. Disaster workers arriving by plane were rendered speechless by the tornado's signature -- a 37-mile swath of bare earth.
More than 600 required hospital treatment. Coroner reports on the dead showed some lost their lives due to bad judgment, others because of horrible luck:
-- A 40-year-old woman with her son at her side was swept from beneath a highway overpass. Her body was found in a field.
-- A 43-year-old woman who didn't like her storm cellar took cover in a bathroom with her dog and cat. Her husband found her body under their recreational vehicle.
-- A 46-year-old woman visiting her parents in their brick home was smothered apparently after hiding beneath a bed that was crushed by debris.
-- A 45-year-old man was killed when winds lifted his car from an interstate and ejected him onto the median.
-- An 86-year-old trucker-turned-minister died when a truck crashed through his roof. He was hiding in the same closet as his wife, who survived.
"A lot of people died despite going to the right locations in their homes," said Ken James, a National Weather Service meteorologist in Norman. "This was such a large and destructive tornado, you really needed to be below ground."
Deon and Samantha Darnell, living in Bridge Creek, had no chance to flee. When the hail came, the tornado wall was close enough to see its churning debris. They couldn't even reach a storm cellar 100 yards away.
The family huddled in the under-stairs closet for about half a minute before his parents' home vanished in the giant vacuum. Deon was the only one in the family to remain conscious, he said. His mother, Lucille, lay nearby in a flowered shirt and purple pants; she had died instantly. Deon, his back broken in three places, remembers lying on the muddy earth and looking up at rescue workers: "Make sure you find my son," he said. When they found 3-week-old Asheton, he was dead.
Jennifer Freeman, 41, also of Bridge Creek, said she and her husband, Oscar Ray, received more than a half-dozen calls from relatives before deciding to leave. As they did, hailstones began to fall.
The couple, since divorced, rushed to retrieve their two boys from their grandmother's house. That night, Ray returned to the neighborhood alone and called Freeman from a cell phone as he approached their property. Because of roadblocks, he had to walk two miles under moonlight.
One neighbor's house lay dumped in a road. Another's was torn in half. When Ray reached their property, he gave the verdict on their home and barn: both gone. What about my Monte Carlo, Freeman asked. Gone, Ray said. The next day, Freeman inspected for herself.
"There were dead animals everywhere -- horses, cattle, goats, dogs. I later found out that there were human remains removed from our own front yard."
Sandy Henry, an Oklahoma City school administrator, and her husband, David, a utility company supervisor, took cover from the tornado just as recommended -- curled up in a tub in an interior bathroom. Before it reached their two-story brick home in Oklahoma City, Sandy Henry says she recalls thinking the approaching tornado looked odd. From her back porch, all she could see were enormous clouds of red dirt.
"At no time could you see a funnel cloud," said Henry.
Relatives called to warn them. The couple never considered fleeing "because of the unpredictability" of such a storm, Henry said. The couple retreated to the bathroom, David Henry holding their dachshund beneath one arm. They nestled into the tub under pillows to block flying glass and splinters.
David Henry reminded his wife of his love for her, and then it hit, Sandy Henry said. The sound was indescribable -- not like a jet engine, not like a freight train. "I don't know how to explain it," she said.
Then the tornado was gone, and Henry heard the hissing of broken gas lines. When she got her bearings, she realized the couple had tumbled from the tub. The house was destroyed. Their hot tub, filled with water, had vanished. Someone's truck had crashed through their roof.
Sandy remained conscious. But David Henry died, crushed by debris.
"You think you're doing the right thing," said Sandy. "But it didn't matter."
Forget the bridge overpass nonsense. And there's been a revision in thinking on what you do if you're already in a car; they're beginning to recognize you're really better off trying to avoid the tornado than stopping to get in a ditch or something.
March 1, 2000 – As a new tornado season gets under way, meteorologists and emergency planners are working feverishly to buck a frightening trend: People are using highway overpasses as tornado shelters.
Meteorologist Dan Miller with the National Weather Service explains his frustration: "We routinely tell people to get down, cover up, and get as many things as possible between them and the tornado. When they get up under an overpass, they’re doing the opposite of that."
So what are your options? Dennis McCarthy, meteorologist in charge of the Norman weather office, says that’s simple:
"What basically you should do is not get into that situation in the first place." He recommends being proactive by obtaining severe weather information from your nearest National Weather Service office, and then carrying out a prearranged plan to seek safety.
If you do happen to be caught in the open, here are some tips from the experts:
When the tornado is spotted and it appears possible, try to drive perpendicular to it to get out of its path. This is not openly condoned because it can backfire, says Miller. "It may be impossible to clearly see the tornado."
If there’s time, abandon a car and get to a permanent building, as low and as far inside as possible.
If these fail, "you don’t have any good options left," Miller says. "They’re all bad."
Vehicles can become airborne or roll over, so they're not good shelters. Abandoning them for a ditch means you’re in the open, a target for debris.
"No pun intended, but the ditch thing should be a last ditch action, your last resort," McCarthy says. He recently submitted a revised tornado safety guide to the American Meteorological Society for final approval - it's expected to be released today - in which the National Weather Service rethinks its vehicle strategy.
McCarthy: "In some instances staying in the vehicle–and it’s not safe [to do that]–might be safer than getting out of it."
Miller’s colleagues strongly agree that these inadequate storm-shelter substitutes are among the worst places to go when a tornado is bearing down. The rise in the embankment adjacent to the highway "elevates you in a wind tunnel with nothing to hang onto, exposing you to the tornado...."
...Evidence from May 3 refutes the tradition: Of 17 people sheltering under an I-35 overpass, all but one were blown out by the wind; one was killed. A few miles away, one person was dismembered and about a dozen others suffered serious injuries: broken backs, severed body parts, deep cuts from head to toe, recounts Harold Brooks, another research meteorologist with NSSL. Just "really ugly injuries."
If you're on a highway, with open road; run. But if there's a chance of having to stop where you don't want to be, driving should be a last resort.
Here in central OK, the soil is mostly red clay that swells and contracts, depending on the moisture level. That makes having a basement an expensive proposition because of the need to engineer for the soil conditions that are so inconsistent. Most houses built in the last 30 years use slab-on-grade construction.
And I am now sitting in a house that was built in 1926 - over one that was destroyed in March 1925.
Our elderly neighbor used to recall that storm - she said that the entire horizon was just black. They didn't have any sort of storm warning system, and many people didn't realize what it was - until it was upon them (and it was moving really fast).
A friend's grandmother lived south of town, and she recalled that they didn't realize that there had been a tornado in Murphysboro - until they saw the smoke rising from numerous fires later on.
At least it sounds like it's a rare occurence. Still..so hard to imagine.....the destruction must be unbelievable.
I've never heard of one of those people who chase tornadoes for a living being killed by one.
That might work, unless every other person has the same idea, and the road turns into a parking lot.
not recently, but then again, they have radar now.
I've only had one experience with a tornado near-miss while in a car, and that was enough. There was absolutely no way to tell where it was, other than it was somewhere very nearby. Pitch black in the middle of the afternoon, storm came out of nowhere (east coast... rarely as large as in the midwest, but you just can't see them coming due to topography). Very large hail and constant lightning. Stopped in the emergency lane, due to the hail and general poor visibility. The windows fogged up due to the rapid drop in pressure as well as air temp. When the car starting rocking back and forth, I bailed, and I would bail again, regardless of what anyone says. I jumped over the guard rail and ran down the embankment, taking cover in a large culvert that ran under the highway. Fortunately, the funnel did not end up hitting my vicinity very hard; I was able to drive away. But, I've seen too many photos of cars literally wrapped around trees, dropped through the roofs of buildings or blown miles away, leaving nothing but a tangle of metal ever to want to remain in one during a tornado. And, trailer homes are even worse than cars.
This is a report on it:
http://www.cnn.com/WEATHER/9803/21/tornado.folo/
LOL! and her little dog too.
If I lived there I'd have a good SUV that could go off-road.
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