Roosevelt Died And Grandpa Survived The Tornado

In the late afternoon of April 12, 1945, Americans across the country tuned into radio news programs to learn details about the sudden death of President Franklin D. Roosevelt.

On the outskirts of Muskogee, Oklahoma, in the Hyde Park suburb, my great-grandparents, James and Mary Pauline (Wagnon) Upton, were among those captivated by the shocking development. As the news continued to pipe in, ominous storm clouds were churning and preparing for a violent display of power.

Newspaper accounts tell how most Muskogee residents were unaware of the threatening storm because they were dazed by the Commander in Chief's passing amidst the final days of World War II in Europe. The Muskogee Phoenix recalled that, "It wasn't until the wail of sirens sounded above the noise of the storm that many folks became aware of a disaster much closer to home."

In the Oklahoman, survivor Lillian Bumgarner remembered that, "I had heard it on the radio that President Roosevelt had died and it went off. It (the tornado) hit and tore up all the lines and everything." The funnel, which struck several towns across Oklahoma, was massive. It was variably described as "shaped more like an acre-wide spade" and "looked like black smoke on the ground."

Charles Upton (center) with his parents
Mary Pauline and James Upton.

James and Mary Pauline gathered their children and quickly headed to a homemade storm shelter, a crude structure carved into the earth with railroad ties supporting a flimsy tin roof held down by concrete blocks.

Not grasping the severity of the storm, my great-grandfather sent his sons Ken and Charles (my grandfather), to gather their livestock from the fields. The twister approached with ferocious and unanticipated speed, forcing the two boys to ride out the storm in the open elements.

They threw themselves in a ditch and clawed at grass and shrubs, desperately clamoring for an anchor to the ground. As the tornado carved its path, debris swirled around them. Charles, who was 15 years old, was hit in the head by an object, but didn't suffer serious injury.

In the storm shelter, Mary Pauline was overwrought with fear for her sons' safety. James had to grasp her tight to keep her from running into the tornado barreling down on the landscape. The wind ripped pieces from the shelter.

After the storm's passing, Charles and Ken ran back to the shelter. As they were hurrying home, they saw a quilt in the distance that, at first glance, they mistook for their mother. Their initial horror changed to relief when they realized she had been spared along with the rest of the family in the dugout.

The storm, which killed dozens across Oklahoma, including three blind students in Muskogee, left an indelible mark on my grandfather. For the rest of his life, he had an exceptional fear of storms and was always the first to make his way to the cellar (livestock be damned!).

Listen to my aunt and mother recount versions of this story told by my grandfather's sister and brother.

Family History on the Road - Day Five & Homeward Bound

After an evening in Muskogee catching up with family, we woke early on day five and headed to Greenhill Cemetery.

My maternal grandfather is buried on the grounds, along with his parents and paternal grandparents. These older Upton family graves are below a cluster of evergreen trees, casting shadows on the monuments below.

This was my first visit to the cemetery since my grandfather passed away in 1993. Although they had divorced in 1959, it felt important and appropriate that we visited his grave on the same trip we buried my grandmother. It felt as though there was a certain element of closure.

From Muskogee, we drove to Tulsa to spend the evening with my grandfather's youngest sister. She generously hosted us in her home, and, to my great delight, pulled out family photos that had been in the collection of my great-grandmother Mary Pauline (Wagnon) Upton. Fortunately, I was prepared for such a situation. Like any genealogist worth his salt, I had brought my scanner along and was able to make digital copies of dozens of images.

Many of the pictures were old black and white cabinet cards. Some were labeled and featured my 2nd great-grandmother Annie Charles (Winkler) Wagnon. Sadly, many of the pictures, including a small handful of tintypes, were not labeled. I've added these photos to the collection of Unknowns with the hope that someone will chance upon a picture and be able to help identify the subject.

Among the old family photographs, was a small bible that belonged to Annie Wagnon. It was a copy of the New Testament, small enough to fit in the palm of my hand and bound in faded red fabric. The bible was wrapped in an old hankie that belonged to Annie. Inside, on several blank pages, she had inscribed the birth dates for her children, herself and her husband Wilburn Wagnon.

The following morning, it was back to Kansas and then on to Colorado. In total, we traveled nearly 2,200 miles, ventured into five states, and paid our respects at the graves of 36 direct ancestors. Throughout the journey, we celebrated the life of my maternal grandmother. She revered her family, and she instilled that love and respect in me. In a way, this blog is a direct result of her passion.