Vernon County, Wisconsin - Chapter 24: The Great Tornado, 1884

Chapter 24: The Great Tornado

Nearly forty years have elapsed since the first white American settler located within the limits of what is now Vernon county. From that date to the present time, there has never been an event of such magnitude - an occurrence so destructive and far-reaching in its results - within the boundaries of the county, as the great tornado of June 28, 1865. It was a great and overshadowing calamity - particularly to the village of Viroqua. It is eighteen years and past, since "death rode upon that sulphury siroc," but there are numbers still living who have a vivid recollection of the sudden and awful visitation I Their recitals of what they saw convey to the reader in graphic language the terrors of that never to be forgotten day.

It is easy to draw from the "Recollections" which follows, an outline of the whole picture. It is this : Suddenly there came on, with little or no warning, a horrible screeching sound ; and, to the westward, as the awe-stricken farmei-, a few miles west of Viroqua, looked out uiioii the scene, there came, as if "upon the lightning's wing," an immense, rolling, whirling, frightfully dark-looking cloud ; and the next instant, almost, a crash I The wind swept everything in its path along the line between townships 12 and 13, through Viroqua, and a number of miles to the east of the village. In that path, was death and dire destruction such as has seldom been witnessed, in so narrow a space, on this earth. But we let the spectators now tell their. stories ; yet the half can never

Thursday afternoon we received notice that on Wednesday a storm of wind had swept over a portion of the village of Viroqua, the county-seat of Vernon county, and that several were killed, a large number wounded, and that a large portion of the village was destroyed. At half past six in the afternoon, we started by team, drove to the "Mills" on Coon creek, put up with Andrew Anderson for the night, reaching Viroqua at 9 on Friday morning, arriving home Friday afternoon, having in twenty-three hours driven seventy miles and witnessed the most terrible effects of wind we ever saw in this country, the particulars of which we hasten to lay before our readers.

The county of Vernon, until lately Bad Ax, adjoins La Crosse county on the south and southeast. Viroqua, distant thirty-five miles from La Crosse, is the county-seat and contains about 1000 inhabitants. It is a pleasant inland village, on high table land in the center of a valuable farming district largely under cultivation. The village has always been a quiet, steadily prospering place. The buildings not large but in good taste and repair, and especially in the south part of the place, characterized by an air of ease and refinement desirable to behold.

At 4 o'clock (on the afternoon of June 28, 1865) black clouds rolling heavily in the sky betokened a storm. In a few moments the wind sprang up, and almost immediately could be seen coming from the northeast a cloud of wind, rolling at times close to the earth - dust, sticks, etc., filling the air. At the same time, there appeared another cloud of like nature, coming directly toward the village from the icest. The first current was passing to the southwest, and the points or ends met half a mile west of the village, when it seemed as if a mighty strife was going on between millions of invisible spirits in the two currents. People ran for their houses in terror - the whirlwind, with a shriek and a howl, kept on its easheard course, the larger current turning the smaller one back, the two going on together in their spork of destruction. In two minutes its fury was spent at Viroqua, and the southern portion of the place (and the most beautiful) was made a scene of wilder and more terrible devastation than we ever witnessed before.

The first house struck was that of William Vought, which was totally destroyed. Before attempting to depict scenes or itemize incidents we give a list of the killed : J. G. Barstow and wife, wbose house was crushed like an eggshell and themselves so injured that they both died in an hour. A three-year-old child of H. G. Weeden was found dead in the ruins of his house, which was demolished. Lydia Gillett was killed while shutting a door. The house was carried some distance and dashed to fragments. The wife of Dr. Dean and her daughter, Mrs. Moon, were killed ; Mr. Dean, seriously injured. Eliza Derby, a girl twelve years old, was killed ; so, also, two children of James Daniels ; two children of James Cook ; one child of Nelson Rhodes, and Mrs. Good, killed and mutilated.

The following were severely wounded : Mr. and Mrs. Drake and son, Phineas. Mr. Drake is eighty-four, his wife seventy-six, and Phineas thirty-five years of age. We doubt if either of the three are now alive. Mrs. Decker had her thigh broken. John Gardner's wife was seriously injured. A servant girl working for W S. Purdy was fatally injured. J. M. Bennett had his leg broken. Mrs. J. Buckley was seriously hurt ; Dr. Dean badly injured ; also Dr. Weeden and wife. Peter Hays, wife and four children were badly wounded. Mrs. W. S. S. White, daughter and grandchild, fatally injured. O. C. Smith was seriously injured ; J. Dawson, badly hurt. Besides these there are others wounded, but their names we couM not learn in the limited time set apart for this purpose. Dr. Tinker informed us that over 100 persons were hurt, forty of whom are seriously injured and about twelve of whom must soon die. In the school house there were twentyfour children and the teacher. Eight children were killed and all more or less cut, bruised or mangled.

Twenty-six houses and barns were completely demolished, and about forty buildings, more or less injured. Below we give a list of buildings destroyed within easy reach of a man's voice :

Messrs. Russell, Riley, Gillett, Bennett, Purdy, Barstow, W. S. S. White and O. C. Smith, were occupying rented premises; all the others were occupying their own buildings. Mr. Fretwell, Mr. Lindley, Mr. Jones, Levi Games, A. R. Burrell, W. F. White, J. H. Tate, H. Trowbridge and others had their houses more or less injured. Fences and outhouses, orchards and shrubbery were swept away on the route, and a large number of horses, cattle and hogs destroyed.

Those who have not witnessed this scene of devastation can form no idea of the terrible power of the whirlwind. The ground is torn as if plowed, Huge rocks ten feet square were hurled a distance of forty rods. Dwellings were razed to the ground, and hurled rods away. Huge oak trees were twisted from stumps like reeds. Timbers sixteen inches square and sixty feet long were hurled through the air as though they were feathers. The scene of desolation is beyond description. The ground over which the whirlwind passed looks as if a mighty stream of water had carried floodwood over it. Houses, outhouses, trees, shrubs, fences, etc., were swept away as if God had, in his anger, rubbed his hand over the spot.

The dwelling of John Gardner, a large two story frame house, was whirled up into the air. An oak tree, standing near by, sixty feet from the ground to its top, was stripped of every leaf, and resembles a dead tree. A gentleman saw from a lower part of the town, out of the course of the storm, the house of Gardner rise in the air till its lower part was far above the top of the oak tree. It came down, the corner struck in the garden some distance from its foundation. It was whirled up again higher than before, and came down the second time, striking on the roof, and dashing the building to atoms. A large portion of the ruins were carried away. Mrs. Gardner was in the house all the time with an infant in her arms. She was taken from the ruins badly injured, but the child was unhurt/

Mr. Bennett's fine house was blown in every direction. Some of the ruins fell in the cellar. Mr. Bennett was hurled in a corner of the cellar. A little girl was blown in beside him. A few seconds after a horse was blown in upon him, breaking Mr. Bennett's leg. The horse struggled to get up but could not; and lest, in struggling, it might kill Mr. Bennett and the little girl, he tried to get a knife from his pocket with which to cut the throat of the animal and so quiet him, when two more horses were hurled in upon him. He was got out with a leg badly broken. The little girl was badly injured. When the blow began a man had just started from a store to go home with his team and lumber wagon. He was whirled from his wagon, falling in the brush thirty rods south. The wagon box has not been found. The running gears were broken and scattered in every direction. The horses were the ones thrown in upon Mr. Bennett.

bushels. It was a large, heavy, "Pennsylvania" barn, on a stone foundation. The barn was whirled to atoms. The stone and mortar underpinning, two feet thick and five feet deep, was torn out. $1,000 dollars worth of wool was blown into the trees for miles. A large threshing machine was torn to fragments; bolts, cylinder teeth, iron and wood work being torn apart and whirled no one knows where. His loss is about $16,000.

Mr Gillett's family took refuge in a cellar. Lydia Gillett, aged twenty, ran up stairs to shut a door. In an instant the house was dashed into the woods and demolished. Miss Gillett was found dying in a plowed field. Those in the cellar escaped with slight bruises.

Mr. Barstow's residence has disappeared. Himself and wife were killed. Mr. and Mrs. Drake, Mrs. Barstow's parents, he aged eighlyfour, and she seventy-six, found near by so badly bruised we doubt if they are alive now. Their son, Phineas Drake, was sawing wood for Ool. Bierce, and was found twenty rods from the remains of the wood pile, in n plowed field, so badly injured he cannot survive.

Col. Bierce was at his office in the nortli end of the town. Mrs. Bierce was ironing when the storm came up. The house and barn a few rods east were lifted into the air, sucked together, demolishing both buildings, and fairly whirled no one knows where. Fire from the stove caught in the hay in the barn. The upper and ground floors of the house were carried across the street, and between the two Mrs. Bierce was found, badly bruised and insensible, and the broken timbers nearly saturated with blood. She was got out and will probably live. Col. Bierce had the handsomest residence in the village. His house was a beautiful model, well furnished. A splendid yard filled with flowers; a large garden filled with choice fruit, grape arbors, etc., now looks as though it had been the bed of an Alpine torrent. The house, barn, fences, trees; all were torn up and scattered far and wide.

Dr. Tinker lost a portion of his house, but saved himself and family. He lost a valuable horse. His house was in the edge of the whirl. A boy ten years old was rolled past in the street; he ran out and saved his life. After administering to the sufferers in the village till nearly dark, he left Dr. Rusk to attend to village calls, and working all night within three miles of the place had cared for thirty-two wounded, some of them terribly and fatally, when sunrise came next morning.

Dr. Weeden lost a fine house and large barn stored full of tobacco. A lumber wagon was lifted from the front of Judge Terhune's barn and set down uninjured behind it. A buggy in the barn was sucked through the roof and dashed to pieces against the ground near by. A fence board from a garden fence forty rods away was driven into .Tudge Terhune's house, one end of the board protruding about five feet into the parlor through the ceiling. A pitch fork was carried a half a mile and the end of the handle driven into an oak stump, where it was found.

The store of Mr. Nichols disappeared so quick no one saw it go, and |o,000 worth of goods are not to be found. A mill pond six miles east of Viroqua was emptied of logs and water, as the wind dipped in the pond. The mill is gone; the logs were whirled over the country. The store of D. B. Priest, in the upper part of which was a fine Masonic lodge room, was churned up and down, and so racked and torn that no one dare enter it. Horses, cows, dogs, sheep, hogs, cats, fowls, men, women and children were hurled to great distances. Dead cattle and other stock are to be found ail about. Fragments, such as broken furniture, torn clothes, books, papers, contents of book cases, wai'drobes and libraries, arc being brought in from the country, so torn and broken as to be worthless and unclaimable.

Log chains, harnesses, dead hogs, pieces of furniture, broken plows and other agricultural implements, feather beds badly ripped, picket fences, rails, fence posts, door frames and barn timbers, dead chickens, calves, sheep, cats, and all the things imaginable hang in the tops of trees, bushes, etc. The scene is one which beggars description, and one which was never equalled in this country. The air was filled with fragments of houses, entire outhouses, broken timbers, log chains, rocks, cellar walls, stoves, fanning mills, hoes, plows, wagons and horses. People half a mile away say the cloud of ruin which swept on east was grand, terrible, awful and indescribably terrific.

J. A. Somerby had his dwelling blown away; his printing office "pied", and the contents of a book store distributed for miles. The house of Col. Rusk was in the edge of the whirl; the front of the house was torn out and all the furniture in the room carried miles away. People ran wild with terror. Men, women and children, horses and cattle were nearly frightened to death. The terror was indescribable. People thought death and the final destruction of the earth had come, and gave themselves up for lost. Had it been in the night time, imagination can only dwell on the scenes of horror the darkness would have augmented. There was neither rain, thunder or lightning at the time, though it rained the night following. 150 persons are left wounded and entirely destitute.

Many of the houses could be hauled off in a handcart, so badly were buildings and contents torn to pieces. The labor of years was annihilated in two minutes, and everything was swept from many who must have relief or die. Tate's Hall has been made into a hosjiital where several are being cared for by the good citizens of the place. Nearly every house in town has one or more wounded therein, some more or less injured.

Fourteen miles the storm extended, destroying everything before it. Farm houses, barns, school houses, fences, cattle, crops, trees, etc., etc., all being swept away from spots as the clouds rose and fell from the earth.

I was on the main street of Viroqua when the storm first appeared. There was first an appearance of a great mass of rubbish in the air coming from the northeast, although where I stood everything was calm and quiet; then there came a roaring of wind from the west. The two currents appeared to have met a little west of the village. I went immediately to my house, east one block from the street, as I felt considerable alarm owing to the unusual appearance and noise in the air. As I reached home the fences and other material were flying about me, caused by the current from the northeast. I ran into the house, where I found my wife and my m^>rried daughter, with her two children. I hurried them into the cellar as quickly as possible. My wife ran back to shut the kitchen door, which had blown open. Just as she came back out of the kitchen into the hall, my daughter said: "Pa, your kitchen has blown away!" I paid little attention to the kitchen, but hurried my daughter into the cellar. I then ran back and met Mrs. Tinker and got her about half way down the cellar steps, when I heard a child cry on the porch. I rushed up, found the hall door blown open, and a little boy on the veranda. He was crying and asked if he could come in. I took him by the hand and led him into the house; how the little fellow came there he could never tell; but the last he remembered he was at the place where Goodell's livery stable now stands, nearly a block away. By this time, the tornado was over, and I went out of the house, and the rest of the family came out of the cellar. Mrs. 'J'inker, on looking out where the kitchen had been, exclaimed: "Oh, the barn is gone, and the horses are killed!" I answered: "I am inclined to think it has, and the kitchen, too." One of my horses was so badly injured that I had him shot. Mine was the most northerly house injured - the the damage being south of mc I told my black servant to kill the horse that was injured, while I started immediately for my daughter's - Mrs- John R. Casson - and to see who of my neighbors were injured. I met my daughter on the way, with hair dishevelled and covered with mud, but not injured. I then went on toward Col. Bierce's residence, when I met Mr. Casson and Mr. Lowrey and some others carrying Mrs. Bierce on a litter, they supposing her to be dead. I directed that she be taken into Mr. Trowbridge's near by, where I dressed her wounds, as she was not dead.

Dr. Dean and Dr. Weeden were both badly hurt, this left Dr. Rusk and myself to attend to the wounded. There was, of course, an immediate rush. Before I had Mrs. Bierce's wounds dressed more than a dozen were after me. I then was busy until dark attending to the wounded - bruises, cuts and fractures, some mortal, others very serious and some slight. Before the wounded in the village had .".11 been cared for, the people began to come in from the country, imploring me to go and look after their wounded. This induced me to leave as soon as I could and leave those who were injured in the village in the care of Dr. Rusk. I traveled all night within three miles of town. I went east first to the school house three-fourths of a mile distant, where I found two, Mrs. Good with a broken thigh, and her daughter-in-law. Mrs. Good survived, but her daughter-in-law soon died. Then I went to Mr. Cook's, beyond the school house about one mile, where I found two children dead that had been killed at the school house, and two persons severely wounded; then to Mr. Sands', about a mile from Mr. Cook's; there I found two children dead, also killed at the school house, and one or two wounded. From there I went to Mr. Derby's, where I found one dead and others injured. The next place visited was at Mr. Morley's, where there was one wounded.

1880. The great tornado came on the 28th day of June, and at a time when nature had assumed her most bewitching attitude, and was dressed in her most gorgeous robes of summer verdure. Little did any of its (Viroqua's) inhabitants apprehend that before the close of that eventful day, the angry elements, at the beck of an invisible power, would lay in waste the faii'est portion of the village, strewing its streets with bruised and mangled victims of its fierce rapacity, and weave a funeral pall for seventeen of its helpless citizens.

About 4 o'clock of the fatal day, dark and |) irtentous clouds were being marshalled ben jath the dome of Heaven's high arch, as t'lough the invisible spirits in the realms of space were about to contend with each other far the mastery. To the westward, black clouds aarched and countermarched, with noticeable .nd alarming rapidity. To the eastward a simiir phenomena was observed, not unlike the novement of two vast armies manoeuvering for idvantageous positions, pending a bloody condiet. At length they came nearer, and still nearer to each other, until they met in deadly embrace, a short distance above the western limits of the village of Viroqua.

The western division of the contending forces seemed the stronger of the two, and back to the eastward hurled their antagonists with tremendous and death-dealing force. On and on came the victorious power, crushing buildings in its maddened march, and ever and anon demanding a human life, to satiate its thirst for conquest. When its savage fury had been spent a scene of horror, such as mortals seldom behold, presented itself to the terror-stricken survivors of the great disastei-. Seventeen persons were killed, including those who died soon after, as the result of the injuries they had received.

Many buildings were demolished, including private residences, stores, barns, and the M. E. church, which occupied the site of their present place of worship. Nearly 200 people were left houseless as the result of the great tornado, many of whom lost every vestige of their household goods and clothing save that npon their backs ; and the condition of many others was such as to move the stoutest heart.

The generous aid so freely rendered to the sufEerers by surrounding localities, will ever be remembered by the people of Viroqua, who themselves vied with each other in acts of kindness to the unfortunate. The fairest portion of the town was laid in ruins and a less industrious and self-reliant people would have seen good cause for depression and discouragement. But the energetic citizens i)f Viroqua, bent their whole energies to repair the damage done to property ; and while they mourned the terrible calamity which had overtaken them and their still more unfortunate neighbors, they were assiduous in building up the waste places of their beautiful village ; and removing all traces of the terrible scourge which had so sorely afflicted them.

Iv. What Happened To Mes. W. R. Puedt

Mrs. W. R. Purdy, then a little girl, eight years of age, with her sister two years older, were returning from school, and when but a few rods from the school house, the latter, realizing more distinctly the danger of attempting to go farther, caught hold of a tree, entreating her sister to do the same, which she did not do, but ran on towards their home, a couple of blocks distant. When between where the waterworks are now located and Smith & Lytle's hardware store, (then I. K. Buck's store) on Jefferson street, she was taken up by the storm and tossed back and forth from one side of the street to the other. Timbers were flying promiscuously around, and once, after she had been blown against the store, and while lying there, apiece of timber, or board was sent whizzing through the building directly over her head. She was finally carried by the wind across Main street, and on to the porcli of Nichols Bros' drug store, then in ruins. I. K. Buck seeing her from his door, ran across in the storm, picked her uj), aud carried her into his store, keeping her there till the storm had subsided. Mrs. Purdy received injuries from which she will probably never recover.

V. - w. F. teehune's p.ecollectiov. On the afternoon of June 28, 1865, I was at the intersection of Main and Jefferson streets in Viroqua village, when I saw a great agitation of the clouds in the west. It was about 4 o'clock. There seemed to be an unusual quiet and stillness all around, a dead calm prevailed ; meantime the disturbance appeared to increase in the westward. I heard a roaring sound, deep and approaching. I then observed that the air was filled with limbs and trunks of trees, having the appearance in the distance of birds rapidly flitting about. I very well knew what was coming, that a tornado was rapidly approaching; and I hesitated whether to endeavor to reach my residence or return to my office, which was near ; as I was fearful I might be struck by the storm if I ventured to attempt tc. reach my home.

Just at that moment some one took me by the arm and proposed we should go into the office ; there were several standing around. We thereupon stationed ourselves at the doors as the storm struck, in order to hold them shut. By this time the noise became very loud and ear-piercing, like a thousand steamboat whistles all blowing at the same time, sharp, shrill and vicious. Two of the office windows were at once blown in, and one of the doors was blown open which three strong men tried in vain to close again, until the force of the wind was somewhat spent. An unusual gloom and darkness pervaded the atmosphere at this time. The whole duration of the shock was not to exceed a minute and a half, probably not so long. No one was hurt in my office, because of the building being sheltered by another and higher building, the store of J. Henry Tate. There was a girl writing in the office at the time, Alice Goode, who was terrified and shrieked with fear. Mrs. Susan Graham, wife of the late Hon. Carson Graham, had run into the office and assisted in trying to keep the doors shut. My own sensation was a very great concern for my family, so much that I had little if any personal fear.

My residence was about three blocks distant. As soon as the storm permitted, I started for home in great haste. I at once noticed -that the street ahead of me was filled with the debris of ruined buildings, and I heard around me as I advanced, cries and shrieks of pain and alarm ; children and female voices mostly. I had gone but a few rods when 1 passed a Mr. Langley, who was holding on to a tree and bleeding from wounds he had received on the liead and face. 1 also observed the two-story building of J. H. Somerby, where the North western. Times had been printed, lay in ruins before me, and I was compelled to run over them. I likewise noted that the store occupied by the Nichols', was leveled to its foundation. I did not of course take much time for observation, as I was runni;]g. I saw persons here and there darting about, but I have no recollection who they were. I soon came in sight of my house, which, with a feeling of very great relief, I saw was still standing and the thought flashed across my mind that my family was safe. My building stood in a native grove, and as I approached it I found all the larger trees blown down or torn up by the roots or their trunks twisted off above ground ; while the smaller hickory and oak trees lay bent over, with their tops upon the ground.

I made my way through them as rapidly as I could and found that my building had been in appearance bombarded. The heavier timbers from the demolished houses of my neighbors, and from tlie M. E. church building had been hurled with great force into the air, some of them striking upon the north side of my house, driving in the windows and doors and making holes like cannon shot, through the siding, knocking down the supporting pillars of the porches on that side, and carrying away the blinds and sash of the observatory.

On entering my dwelling, I found my family in the cellar all unhurt, but in a great state of alarm and terror, from the effects of which my wife was rendered very ill and has never fully recovered. I got my family up from below as soon as I could re-assure them and prevail upon them to come. I found my son Leonard, then ten years of age, was missing, and I at once started to find him. He had found shelter in a neighbor's house and was safe.

My wife's experience was that, when she discovered the darkness coming on, she and the hired girl went up stairs to close the windows ; and after they had closed them, she observed, through the window, the trees bending their tops to the very ground. Frightened by the noise of the storm, she reached the head of the stairs in haste to descend to the cellar ; when the girl, in a paroxysm of fear, grasped and held on to her. They both descended into the kitchen where our two children were and she hurried them all into the cellar, she being in great fright and trepidation during the time ; and it was there, as I have said, that I found them.

When I had time to look about me, I found my young orchard and all the fences around destroyed and my barn unroofed. I then went immediately to the assistance of others. I saw all the buildings south of Terhune street^ were either shattered or blown down, except my own. By this time I began to realize the awful nature of the disaster and became agitated. I threw open my doors for the dying and wounded in my immediate vicinity to be brought in. It was a most sickening spectacle, heart-rending in the extreme. The first to be assisted in was the wife of Dr. W. W. Weeden. She was only slightly itijured but her child was killed. Their house h ad been blow Ji away and the little one was found buried in the ruins. There was also a young lady in the bloom of youth brought in a corpse ; it was a Miss Gillett.

A family named Barstow, consisting of six persons, received a terrible visitation. Mr. Barstow himself and wife and mother-in-law, Mrs. Drake, were brought in mortally injured, the brother-in-law, a Mr. Drake, was found dead in a field near the destroyed residence of R. C. Bierce, and little boys were left homeless orphans. Mr. Barstow died the same night, and the wife and Mrs. Drake were removed to the hospital improvised by the citizens the next day, where after lingering in great pain for several days, they died. Places were found for the boys, I think, with some distant relatives. Mrs. VV. S. S. White, wife of the register of deeds, was brought in with a broken leg and remained in great bodily suffering for ten days, when she also died. On every side were heard the cries of suffering and distress, and for a week were seen the tears of lamentation and woe. The loss and destruction of property was at first little considered, so great were other calamities. The blow fell so suddenly and unexpectedly that those who escaped had time only to feel emotions of gratitude for their own safety and that of their families and sympathy for the afflicted and distressed.

There was a silk dress found near New Lisborn, in Juneau county, belonging to Mrs. Dr. H. G. VVeeden. A dwelling house door of Joseph Buckley was found in the mill-pond at the village of Hillsborough ; and his army discharge was picked up two miles from Viroqua, near the residence of J. Wallace. Articles of clothing and pieces of damaged furniture were found miles away from the scene of the disaster.

Vi. Statement Op H. M. I8Ham

the town of Jefferson, where my brother, Cassius B. Isham, came in pretty brisk, saying: "It is the worst storm coming I ever saw in the west," when just at th.at moment the house (a log one) began to go. The roof went first, and then a good part of the logs. Besides my brother, there were, in the house at the time, his wife and four children, and Mary Rowe. My brother was some hurt, and one or two of the children. His wife, also, was slightly injured. A few logs were left remaining. We all had all we could do to hold on to the logs that were remaining, to keep from being blown away. It rained considerably at the time.

I had ten or a dozen steel traps up in the loft, and they were all blown away and never found. A trowel was found a mile and a half away belonging to me. The clothing, bed-clothes and articles were blown out of the house and never recovered. A spinning-wheel spindle, found sticking in the siding of a house in Viroqua, was recognized as belonging to my brother. This was the first house struck by the tornado. It was repaired afterward, and stood several years, but is now demolished. It stood about 100 rods south of the town line, which runs to the south part of Viroqua. The roaring of the wind was very loud, and the clouds very black. The air was full of leaves and vegetation, that seemed to be whirled up from off the ground.

The next house east of my brother's that was struck was on section 2, in the same town, belonging to Morgan Neff. It was blown to the ground. I went to Viroqua immediately after the tornado passed. I stopped at Neff's on the way. I had to walk about three miles and a half in a straight line before reaching Viroqua. Arriving at the village I assisted the sufferers the best I could the rest of the day.

I was living in Viroqua on the 28th of June, 1865, when the great tornado devastated a large part of the village. My dwelling was on Main street, where Joseph Buckley now lives - that is, on the same lot. I was in the court house when I first noticed a strange appearance of the clouds. There seemed a very black cloud in the south, but a white one in the north. James Lowrie was county treasurer, and William Keir was at the moment paying his taxes. He and I were looking west, and the treasurer was ^attending to his books facing us. I saw the two clouds through the west window, which was up at the time, . come together. They whirled around, presenting an appearance of a white streak and a black one in a spiral form. I remarked, "Those clouds are getting pretty badly twisted up." Lowrie looked around, and shutting up his book, exclaimed: "I am going home," at the same time closing the window.

Of course we had to go out, as he locked the door of the office. Lowrie went west to his home, but Keir and I came into the tavern, then called the North Star, kept by Luther Polan, now the Tremont House. However, before we reached the tavern, it appeared as if it was raining; it was the water from the Skippen's pond, which we mistook at first for rain. When we reached the North Star, we had hard work to get in, there were so many inside holding the door. Keir got in first, and when I tried I was successful, but my coat-tail was caught in the door, and the pressure agvinst it was so great from those who were holding it, that I could not get loose. Just then I looked out of the south window, and saw the east side of the court house roof go off.

Just at this moment some one said to me, "Tiiere are two of your horses coming down the street, and one with a piece of board hanging to the halter." It was a part of the manger where the horse had been tied in the barn. I had, at that time, seven horses in my barn. I then pulled myself out of my coat, the garment being left in the door. I then turned around, gave my coat a jerk, and the door came open.

house gone, and the windows blown in on the north side. I asked my wife if any of the family were hurt, and she replied that there were none. Then I started to go to my mother's home - Mrs. Margaret Coe's. On my way there I met a boy who told me that all my horses were piled up in aheap on the brtrn floor - the barn was all gone and the floor too, except where the horses were. I had a new wagon standing beside the barn. It was blown away, and I never saw any part of it afterward. Still I went on to, my mother's. I found her and my two sisters and Emily and Edward W. Hazen,not any of them injured. My brother, William Coe, had been in the house. My mother and the four children went into the cellar kitchen; but my brother refused to go down, and was blown away with the house.

I found him a short distance away from where the house had stood; the rest of the family by this time, had come out of the cellar. My brother was fast under one of the sills. Mr. Keir went all the way with me from the tavern, and he helped me get my brother out, who was badly hurt. It" was eight or nine days before we knew whether he would recover or not; but he finally got well. Five sacks of wheat and some kitchen furniture were blown away from the cellar kitchen, and the clothes of my mother and of the children were pretty badly torn. The chickens around the house were all killed, and most of them had their feathers off quite as clean as if stripped by hand. One of the family garments - a cloth circular - was afterward found about forty-five miles away, to the eastward.

Before the approach of the storm, the day was very hot,but the weather was threatening,and we could hear thunder for, perhaps, an hour before. I was very busily engaged at the time in my store, which was located nearly opposite my residence, and took little notice of the dangerous aspect of the storm until it was very near the village. When I first noticed it, some one calling my attention to it from my store door, it appeared to be a confused mass of timbers, branches, stones, leaves, driven among tliemselves in every direction. The track of the storm appeared to be about one hundred rods wide, and the noise was like the rumble of thunder. In sound and in the dread that it inspired, it was like to a score of giant locomotives driving abreast.

It came from the west, and I watched its approach until it reached the nearest dwelling of the village that I discovered. This was the Gardner dwelling. It lifted the building from its base, tossed it in air like a toy, and rent it in pieces, scattering the fragments on every side. I watched its course among the houses until it neared my own home. I then saw a two-story building north of my dwelling picked up and thrust over upon my house. There was no time from the first real comprehension of the perilnot a moment to think. There was but one thought, and that was to hug the earth where alone lay our safety. With this intent I leaped from the door and ran out into the street, only to be knocked down by the flying timber. When I recovered myself, the storm was past, and I rose and walked to the ruins of my house and took my child from its mother's arms and ran back to the store. My wife remained, saying she would see if she could find Mrs. Somerby. My injuries, which, in the excitement were hardly noticed, overcame me in a few minutes, and I became unconscious. Because of my wounds and the consequent illness, I did not see the ruins for some time, and can give no account of them. It was a number of weeks before I recovered sufficiently to be around and attend to business. I have never fully recovered. The whole number killed outright and who afterward died from the injuries received, were

I was about one mile east of Viroqua at Green's. I was helping Amos Green frame his barn. It was a blustering afternoon; there were strong.indications of a storm. It appeared so threatening that we coiiclu led to quit work. It thundered heavily, and there was vivid lightning. I suggested to the boys, as we had so many steel tools, that I felt uneasy about workinc there. We had no more than quit fairly, before the storm came on. All but myself went into Green's house; I did not go in because I felt uneasy about home. I discovered the storm coming - the ground trembled. We could have seen the storm sooner had it not been that we were behind a heavy grove.

The tornado passed about 200 yards south of me. It had the appearance of a huge top; it was cone shaped. It looked as though it was made up of tar - it was a black mass. The noise was deafening. Immediately after it passed it was quite calm. I immediately started for town. I had not gone far before I discovered the fragments of a school house. Children were running wild in every direction. I was then close to old Mr. Green's residence. He asked nie to go over and render assistance to those children who might be found in the rubbish. I went and helped take out six children, some already dead and the residue soon expired. Other help now came and I hurried home.

Most of the children that I met before reaching the ruins of the school house were more or less injured; many had blood on their faces. They were frantic and were running for home. I found the school teacher, a young lady, sitting on the ground with a child's head resting on her lap with very bad gashes in her face. She was so covered with blood as not to be recognized. She appeared very cool and rational. The child she held was already dead or was dying. She said all but the six had gone home.

When I got home (I was then living with my brother, T. B. Brown, now dead,) the iloor of our house was covered with the wounded lying about. There were none dead thei-e however. I reached Viroqua not far from 5 o'clock. It. was the afternoon of June 28, 186.5.

In coming in from the country I saw many strange sights. Chickens with their feathers nearly all blown off; cats wandering half dead; horses lying down with their legs broken. Wagons, household furniture and other articles strewed in every direction. I should think from all I saw and have since learned, the tornado traveled at the rate of about a mile a minute on the ground.

Becollections Of K. C. Bieece

As I now recall the facts, it was at a point about four and one-half miles west from the village of Viroqua, that the wind had gathered sufficient force to begin to break down and tear up trees. My recollection is to the effect' that the first building destroyed or partially destroyed, was the residence of Benjamin Pierce. This, I think, was a log house, and, probably, was not very large. I think, too, that the dwelling of a man whose name is Cassius B. Isham, was either wholly or partially destroyed before the storm reached the village. As the tornado seemed to move straight to the east from the west, as straight as a line could be drawn, and as its track was oi^y about twenty rods wide, it did not happen to strike many buildings until it reached the village. Then its ruin was triumphant and eomplete. A Mr. William Vought was living about one-half mile west from the village limits, and in the very pathway of the storm, but I think his house was not injured at all.

I do not remember now the last building that was destroyed east of the village. But after the all-destroying column ceased to hug the ground so closely as to suck up buildings and everything else that stood in its way, it still had force enough to scatter fences, tear up trees by the roots or break them off. Writing to Prof. Henry, when all the facts were fresh in my mind, I remember now very distinctly that I made the distance about nine miles from the point where it began to destroy trees west of the village to the point where its destruction ceased east of the village. Like a bird of evil omen with black, wide-spreading pinions, it seemed to swoop down from the regions above, smiting first the tops of the trees, and descending lower and lower until it reached the ground, when it swept everything away with rushing wings, and when fully glutted and satisfied with the ruin it had wrought, of both life and property, it gradually lifted itself up again, destroying as it rose until it reached the very clouds. A great many acres of valuable timber standing east of Viroqua was almost wholly destroyed. John White was, perhaps, one of the severest sufferers in this respect.

As the tornado passed through the village, and it may have been so outside the village, there seemed to be side currents coming in from the northwest that proved destructive. The court house stood two blocks, or more, north of the direct track of the storm, but it was unroofed. Dr. E. W. Tinker occupied the house now occupied by Capt. John R. Casson, and to the rear of it stood his barn. The barn was destroyed and a valuable horse was killed; but I do not remember now that either his house or other houses in that immediate vicinity were much, if any, injured. Probably, the current that unroofed the court house struck the old Buckeye house, then occupied by J. M. Rusk's family, and tore off the north wing of the building; and either this current or the one that st^ruok Dr. Tinker's barn, struck the residence of A. K Burrell, it being the house more recently, and, perhaps, now occupied by H. P. Proctor, Esq., and moved it from its foundations some six feet northeast, so that when Mrs. Burrell, after the storm was over, went to the door, and looking out, saw where the cistern

As for my own individual experience in that trying time, I can well say that I dislike to recall it; but, if it will add anything to the value of the history you ai'e comjiiling, I will give it.

My office at that period was on tiie lower floor of the south wing of Tate's store building as it stood at that time. I was very busy that day drawing complaints for the foreclosure of some tax deeds, and I noticed nothing peculiar abt)Ut the temperature of the atmosphere or of the douds until the wind began to blow so hard through a south window that was open as to scatter my ))apers all about my office and I got up and closed tlie window and sat down to writing again. So little was I anticipating a violent storm, I did not even take the time nor the trouble to look out and see wliat the clouds were like. It was but a moment, however, apparently, before a gust of wind came in at the door which opened to the east, and blowing the papers all off my table a second lime. I got up and closed tie door, gathered up my papers and sat down to my writing again. At this time my son Freddie, then seven years old, came running into my oifiee, just dismissed from school, and plead with me to go home with him. He said there would be a dreadful storm, and most all tlie scliool children had run into the jail. I tried to quiet him down by telling him I thought the storm would be over in a very few minutes for my position in my office was such that I saw nothing of the fearful gathering of the clouds that held within them such terrific power for destruction. It was growing dark in my office and I told Freddie we would go into the store and stay until the storm was over. We passed into the store and found a good many people in there and more came running in. I passed back to the farther end of the store building where there was a window overlooking the courthouse square. Then I noticed for the first time how dark, threatening and heavy the clouds were. In a moment more other men came rushing into the store; all of a sudden there was a terrible roar, and amidst it I could hear the shrieks of women and the frenzied calls of men; the store was full of people that had rushed in; the stiong building began to tremble and creak; some sprang to the doors and others to the windows to hold them in; a wave of blackness almost as impenetrable as the blackness of deep midnight swept along. In that blackness I could bare y see the tall liberty pole that stood in the court house square bending and sweeping round and round until the ball on the top seemed to touch the ground; the shurbbery all seemed to lie flat on the ground and to twist round and round in circles; the air was full of flying boards, shingles and rubbish that «'ent sweeping by the window where I was standing and looking out on the dire drama that was being |jlayed outside; I could hear them striking against the building, but over and above all was that indescribable, that unearthly roar, and brooding over and around all was the almost impenetrable darkness.

All this was but for a moment, comparatively speaking. The spirit of the storm was as swift as it was terrible, in passing over the doomed village. The winds died away, the clouds lifted, and from the window, where I stood through it all, I could see that the court house was unroofed, the lioerty pole was gone, the shrubbery had all disappeared, and the trophies of the storm were lying around everywhere. The store doors were opened and the people began to pass out. I went to the door and looked out, and at a distance, apparently of two miles east of the village, I could see the whirlwind, tornado, cyclone, or whatever people might see proper to call it. It was a dark, perpendicular column, in fact, it was intensely black and impenetrable, moving steadily on to the east, roaring as it went. Of its diameter, I had no means of judging, but it reached from the ground to the clouds, and I could see the clouds coming from every direction like race horses, and all were drawn down into the terrible vortex. One moment, tliat awtul black, moving column would sink down and down, drawing every thing from above witli it, and anon it would rise up and up into the heavens, and then it would spew out its gathered stomach full of rubbish which would go scattering off on the the wings of the wind.

I do not remember that it rained while the storm cloud was passing over, but soon after, the rain began to fall. As the thought that my properly had been touched by that dark monster, I had seen so plainly, did not once enter my mind, I was in no hurry about leaving the store, but I remained there with Freddie until the rain ceased, then we started for the house.

When I got out of the store, the first thing I noticed, was the ruins of J. A. Somerby's house piled up in the middle of the street, in front ot where McKee's store stands, and somebody stood there looking at them, then I saw that the store of II. Nichols & Sons was gone, all there was left of it was the lower floor, and L. W. Nichols stood there surveying the ruins. The ne.xt evidence of loss that I noticed, was when I reached the residence of Mrs. Thomas Fretwell; she stood in the middle of the street, crying and wringing her hands. Her house was very badly demoralized.

From Mrs. Fretwell's I went directly home, and it seemed to me as though I saw my house standing there, intact, until I got on to the very grounds. Like every one else, I was dazed, bewildered, thrown off my balance. The fact is, no two persons saw things just alike then. The first thing that recalled me to a sense of the real situation of things, meeting my little son, Arthur, then just over three years of age, running around and calling for "Ma!" His clothes were nearly all torn from his body, he had a great swelling on his forehead, where he had been hit by something; he was plastered all over with dirt and blood was on his face, his hands and his feet. When he saw me he cried out, "Pa, Where's Ma." I replied, "I dont know, my son; dont you know where Ma is?" and he answered in his childish way, "No; where is her?" Then I began to realize the true condition of things. For a moment the inexpressible silence of complete desolation reigned. My house was gone, my wife was gone, buildings, fences, trees, all were gone. Only two hours before, I had left that home, a place bright and lovely to me; then all darkness, silence and desolation. Owing to my slowness in leaving the store after the storm was over, many of the villagers had rescued from the ruins of several destroyed houses, the injured, dead and dying, before I got to where my house stood, and several men Wfere there looking for my wife when I got there. It was an hour perhaps, before my wife was found. She was found at last, by Comfort Richardson, lying insensible between two floors of the central portion of the house. These floors had been carried bodily from where the house stood, in a southeasterly direction from the street and on to the lands of Dr. Weeden. The finding was in a measure accidental. As we were threading through the ruins that lay thick all around. Comfort, being near the floors thought he heard a groan. For some time we looked around without finding her, when Comfort, noticing that the upper floor projected some over the under floor, he stooped down and looked under, and he saw a portion of the skirt of her dress hanging down. By calling a number of men to our aid, we raised the upper floor sufficiently to get her out. She was taken to the residence of Deacon Trowbridge where Dr. Tinker dressed her wounds. It was some hours before she was restored to consciousness, and several days before she so far recovered as to be able to help herself. A wound she received on her head, was the final cause of her death, so her attending j)hysician8 said. She never fully recovered from the effects of that wound, and I could see that yearly and monthly, she was growing weaker physically, and her mind, too, suffered some, towards the last, and on Monday evening July 19, 1874, as she was sitting by my side in church, she was stricken with paralysis, and she lingered until twenty minutes past 4 o'clock in the afternoon of Saturday, July 25, when she breathed her last.

It may not be amiss to relate briefly what my wife told me she saw and felt before she became uuconcious. It was a very warm day, and she was engaged in ironing, in the kitchen, when the wind began to blow quite hard, an<l she saw from the appearance of the clouds that quite a storm was like to hap])en. She went up stairs and into oilier rooms below, to put down windows that were up; as there were several rooms, this occupied Some time. Having closed all the windows she started for the kitchen again, and l)y the time she reached the door opening from the dining room into the kitchen, the wind was blowing so hard that the house began to tremble She noticed that Arthur had crawled under the kitchen table and was lying flat on his" face. Phineas Drake, a man lliat was sawing and splitting wood in the wood house, had come into tiie kitchen and stood with his liands against one of the windows, and he remarked that he "thought the wind would blow in the windows." At that moment she heard a jingling, as of breaking glass, and she knew nothing more until she came back to consciousness, after having been carried to Mr. Trowbridge's house. She fell where she stood, by the door between the dining room and kitchen.

Poor Drake was found in Dr. Weeden's field, some three or four rods beyond where my wife was found. His head was terribly bruised and he lay as lifeless, apparently, as a corpse. He lived, however, until the eighth day after he was hurt, but I always understood that he passed away without ever giving a single sign of life. He was taken to Tate's Hall, where so many other wounded and dead were taken. His aged father and mother lived on the second block west from me, and were botli killed.

was thrown intothe cellar, where he was so completely covered with the debris of the storm, that the people who were looking around could not see him. Some of his playmates finally came along, and as he looked up through the rubbish and saw them, he called to them. Men were then called and he was taken out.

There are a great many incidents connected, not only with the destruction of my home, but with the destruction of the finest portion of Viroqu.i, as it stood on the morning of the 28th day of June, 1865, and before the tornado struck it, that possess a sad, yet sacred interest to me, but it will not be proper for me to allude to them here.

The whole face of that portion of the village that was swept by the tornado was changed. Every well known landmark was gone. The familiar things that I had looked on every day were blotted out of existence. The fond care, the hopeful toil, the pleasant labors of years, vanished in a moment, and all that was left was memory. The track of the storm looked as though it had been the deep bed of a water course, for ages, from which the water had been suddenly drawn, leaving nothing pleasant for the eye to look on. Every where was cold, silent, gray ruin and desolation. Every green thing was gone from garden and from door j'ard, and dry, hard, scorched earth, alone remained. The ruins seem to be all plastered over with mud, and the scene of the ruins was most dreadful and ajipalling.

XI. - A. L. Russell's statement. I came from Sparta the day on which the disaster occurred. I noticed several times that it threatened rain before I arrived home. I reached my house about half past 3 o'clock. About that time there appeared to be a heavy shower gathering in the northwest and southwest. The clouds in the northwest had a white look, as if the sun was shining on them, but those in the southwest were intensely black - black as ink.

When I came home (I had my wife with me) I left her at the house and I went to put out my horse. When I got back to the house it was unusually calm ; there did not seem to be any air stirring at all. The two storms seemed at this time to have come together in the west ; there was a great deal of thunder and lightning. My wife was standing in the door and called ray attention to the whirling appearance of the clouds.

About that time the wind commenced to blow hard from the east ; then, in a moment, it changed to the west. We were both in the house looking out at the west door. The storm seemed now to be approaching very rapidly ; every thing seemed to be lapped up as it came on. My wife suggested that we had better go out doors. I told her to wait a moment, to see which way the storm was going. I then told her there was nothing that could stand before that storm ; that she should get her heaviest shawl and that we go across the road to a

We ha(l barely reached the brush when the storm was upon us. We came near being caught by a tree falling on us. We both then knelt down in the brush as close to the ground as we could get. By that time the wind blew so hard that the brush was all blown flat to the ground. We just got sight of the house as it was struck by the tornado. It was sucked right up into the clouds with a whirling motion ; but almost instantly it was total darkness. There was nothing to be seen but small balls of fire, which seemed about the size of a hen's egg. It was only a few seconds before it passed by.

Both my wife and I were badly hurt ; my wife soon became unconscious after getting her to a neighbor's house ; one of her wrists was fractured ; she has never got the full use of it since. I soon followed out on the track of the tornado, and the sight was appalling !