1913 Omaha Nebraska Tornado

Hundreds of homeless poor in the district worst hit by the storm, in the neighborhood of Twenty-fourth and Lake streets, gathered about the ruins the morning after the disaster and wept for very helplessness. For one or two of them to accomplish anything by digging into the ruins of their homes was manifestly impossible. Some suspected that valuable furniture and other family possessions might be intact beneath the ruins of their homes, but discouragement and overwhelming sorrow kept them from attempting to move masses of wreckage that would have been too heavy for a dozen men.

Snow covered the ruins toward noon, and made the already horrible spectacle a scene of desolation difficult to imagine.

Hundreds slept in snow-covered beds Monday night. With windows and doors gone, roofs lifted, and great jagged cracks in the walls, the remains of many homes in the devastated area were unfit for habitation. Yet the occupants, driven to desperation, and unwilling to seek charity, where hundreds are suffering for food and clothing, strove to make the best of the situation and get along without aid from the more fortunate. Groups of the shelterless gathered in the streets, and black and white clasped hands in the community of destitution.

Moving vans were backed up near the ruins of the homes of those able to pay for having their goods moved. Others were trying to pick out some rag, or a little provender, and constructed frail sheds out of the ruins to shelter what they could find from the snow.

     A small group of homeless men and women, black and White, met in front of the home of Mrs. Mary Green, 1924 North Twenty-fourth street, for prayer. All were homeless, and not one but had either lost some one dear to him or had some relative in one of the hospitals. G. A. Perkins, representing the American Bible society, distributed bibles free to those in the crowd, and, with bared heads, they stood in the snow while one of their number turned to the Psalms and read "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want."

     Mrs. Sadie Herman of 2606 Patrick avenue said: "I am a widow and an orphan and penniless. My home was blown to atoms and even the small change which I had, in my purse is gone. I am past 50, and I don't see how I am to live out the rest of my life without anyone in the world whom I can call my friend except this stranger who has taken me into her house."

     A colored man stepped into the circle as the meeting was about to break up and said: "Say, white man, I suppose you couldn't give me one of those bibles, could you? I had one , but it went with all my other goods. I haven't a thing in the world, but if you'll give me one of those I'll have something to start with."

     The wedding of Miss Augusta Marquardt and Herman Evers, at the German-English Lutheran church, Twenty-eighth and Parker streets, Sunday evening, was abruptly ended, and the ceremonies cut short by the tornado, which destroyed the church and all neighboring buildings.

     An elaborate Easter wedding had been planned for 5 o'clock, but unforeseen delays kept the party from the church until 5:30. The storm was gathering as the bridal party arrived in automobiles, and hastily marched into the church. Lights were burning, for darkness was gathering.

     The Rev. E. T. Otto, pastor of the church, was waiting at the altar. The party nervously took seats in front of the church, and windows were closed.

     "Herman Evers, do you take this woman to be-"

     "Can't hear you," said the groom.

     The remainder of the ceremony was made so short that the bride and groom are thinking about having it done over again, so as to be sure they are married.

     The choir began to sing "Oh Promise Me," but the strains of the organ were drowned in the roar of the on-coming storm. The bride and groom rushed from the church and jumped into a waiting automobile, which hurried them toward the home of the bride's parents, 2506 Maple street. They were obliged to desert the machine and run into a cellar. The auto was carried away, and has not been seen since.

     The wedding party was in consternation as rocks and timbers began to shower into the church, which was mostly of frame construction. The pastor's house joined the church in the rear, and his wife and babies rushed into the church.

     "This way!" shouted the minister, pushing his parishioners into the cellar. Prof. J. Hilgendorf of the parochial school grasped Lando, the 1-year-old son of the pastor in his arms, and jumped down the cellarway just as the floor began to rise in the air. Paul Hilgendorf and Paul and Will Raschuh followed. Mrs. Otto waited by the cellar door for her husband, who had paused to turn out two lights. The cellar steps were going into the air, and tower, roof and belfry were tumbling about their ears, as the pastor and his wife joined the crowd in the basement. The church is one of the most complete wrecks in the city.

     For only a few minutes the party remained pinned in a dark hole, unable to move, and praying for air. A rescuing party pulled enough of the wreckage away that the victims could be taken out.

     The marriage license of Mr. and Mrs. Evers is gone, having blown out of the hand of the best man when the crash came. The pastor's residence, the church and the school were scattered over a half mile of territory. Church records for the past quarter of a century were found a block away.