A tornado (called a "cyclone" in that time and place) struck Marshfield, Webster, MO in April 1880 and killed more than 10% of the population.
This is Francis M Sutherlin's experience.
================================F.M. Sutherlands' History.
"Surrounded by cherubs and angels
And all dear children that die,
Hearing nothing but anthems of gladness
In his heavenly home on high."I was born in Wayne County, Mo., but previous to the cyclone, I resided in the north-western part of Marshfield, on a corner lot, near what is called the Buffalo Road. Part of the day of that terrible catastrophe was dreary and cold with two currents of clouds passing over us. One from north to south in a rapid whirl, and a lighter, thinner, and lower current, passing from south-west to north-west, more rapidly than the former, with an occasional shower of rain. My family numbered ten--myself and wife, seven boys and one girl, their ages ranging from sixteen down to one. Late in the afternoon we were all seated on the porch on the west side of the house when I noticed two small clouds in the north-west passing around each other, and at the same time drawing in other clouds, every moment increasing in size and motion. My wife remarked that there would be a storm, and my children became excited and wanted to run to the timber. I told them that I thought it would pass north of us, and if we went into the timber we would all be killed, but if it should strike the town we would leave the house, and cross the street to a thicket of brush that had grown on a vacant block belonging to Major Rush. During this time of thinking and planning, Mr. Henry Kelsoe's family, three in number, and Benjamin Johnson's (colored) nine in number, came to our house in alarm. I gave them the same advice I had given my family. We had not long to wait on the looked for event, and in trying to seek a shelter from the black, whirling mass of destruction, Mr. Kelsoe ran back to the house, while his wife and little girl started down the Buffalo Road. Mr Johnson's family were scattered here and there, whenever their purturbed thoughts sent them. My wife and I, with two little boys
crossed the street east of us, and another one north, and ran into a cluster of prairie hickory. After seating my wife on a small stump and placing the children in her lap, I put a hickory limb in her hand, that she might more firmly secure her position. I knelt at her feet, and run my right arm between two of these hickories, and clutching another I passed my left arm under the limb my wife held; I then put my hand across the back of her head, and drew her over the children, and leaned forward myself over her head to protect the children. I determined to remain in this position, if possible, till the storm had passed, without any hopes of living through it. Our other children started with us but the wind separated them from us. I called to "hold fast," thinking that if any were within the sound of my voice, these words would encourage them.
At last the storm with all its fury swept past, leaving its dreadful work behind, and I expected to find my entire family killed. I lifted my wife from her recumbent position, and found that with all my precautions to shield my children, my dear little Albert had been killed in her lap, and my wife and Henry badly hurt. I had received many staggering blows which had cut
and bruised me terribly, but in this trying time there was need of nerve and the exercise of the virtue of self-forgetfulness. I ran to seek the other children and met my oldest son, Samuel. In answer to my inquiry about the children, he told me that George, Charles and Ovanda were alive. I ran back to communicate this piece of good news to my wife, and found Edward with her.My next journey was to find a doctor to come to my family, and found grandma Johnson lying on her back with a post of oak, about eight inches in diameter, lying across her. As much as I needed assistance for my own wounded and
suffering family, the feelings of humanity prompted me to assist this poor old black woman; then again I was on my journey. When I came to the public square and saw the condition of things in that quarter, my heart sank within me, for a doctor was not to be thought of. I retraced my steps and returned to my wife, still determined to do all I could, notwithstanding I was in great pain. I found Mrs. Kelsoe with my wife and asked "Where is Mr. Kelsoe?" She said, "Go with me." I found him with his back broken and still alive. He had been blown with my house and lodged amoung a pile of debris, with his back against a sapling. We tried to raise him, but he could not endure the pain, and as I could not assist him in any way, I returned to my family. Samuel said, "Pa what in the name of God will we do? There is not a house left and no one to take care of the wounded." I told him I would go to the depot and telegraph for aid, and started for that purpose, not knowing the wires were down. I met Mrs. O.D. Smith, who asked me to go with her. She said her husband and four children were killed, but I could not possibly assist her, and I kept on in the direction of the depot till I
came to the public square. I was going on a run when Mr. Jim Owens caught hold of me saying, "Are you hurt?" I said "No." "Yes you are," said he. "Go back to your own family, and I will telegraph to Springfield for aid." On my way back I heard someone at the jail yelling for help. There were two families under the ruins of that building, and the building on fire. I saw some one go to those families, so I kept on my way. There were many dead and wounded in my path to whom I could render no assistance. I saw Fyan Hampton with his thigh broken, and the poor boy was suffering a great deal. During my absence, Messrs. Grier and Reed had come, and had taken my family and others to their houses. Mr. Kelsoe was begging for water, and I started in the search of a bucket to bring him a drink. A third time I ran to town. This time I thought of my brother's family. I looked in that direction and could see by the fire-light his house had been blown away, and what else remained had caught fire. I found my brother trying to find some bed-clothes for his family. Around the burning embers of that broken, blown away house, we told each other of the death of our dear children, Rebecca and Albert. I found a bucket and continued my search for water. On going to the branch to fill it, I found it so filled up with timber, it was impossible to get water therefrom. About nine O'clock I went to see about my horses I found one of them
dead, another with timber piled on and around him till he could not move, and the third one on his back on top of a pile of ruins. One-half of the sills on the east side of my house were left on the lot, while other sills had been blown from forty to one-hundred yards. The kitchen floor was moved two feet, and the floor of the main building was never seen after the storm. About 11 O'clock Monday, medical aid arrived. Dr. Barr, of Lebanon, assisted by S.W. Wybark, a friend of mind, attended my family. They dressed and stitched up wounds on six of them. Our little boy, Albert, received his death wound on the back of his head, commencing on his neck at the edge of his hair, running above the left ear and below the right, taking out his brains and right eyeball. Our boy Edward had run down the Buffalo Road, and started back. The wind
blew him out of the street. He laid down and caught hold of a bush, and held to it till the wind again took him and dashed him up and down through the storm. His flesh was not broken, but it turned a black and blue color. Samuel with our babe, was near my wife and I standing and holding to a post-oak. He was knocked down and the child blown out of his arms. He again took up the babe and caught hold of another sappling, to which he held during the storm. George and Charles ran into the street north of the house, where the wind caught them and blew them out of the street. George caught hold of an oak tree which stood near a plank fence. The fence blew away except a post which stood on a line with the tree. The top of that post fell against the tree, and he locked his hands under it so that his fingers were somewhat
protected, although they received a few cuts. When the storm was over he was standing on a pile of debris about eighteen inches thick. Just above him hung a sheet of tin roofing, woven in and out through the branches of the tree. Ovanda was blown and knocked about till she was badly hurt and bruised.
** To see his brother's account of the storm, look under William Thompson Sutherlin