By Bobby Bice
Many people have stories related to Friday evening June 23 rd , 1944 when one of nature’s most violent storms—a tornado—devastated Shinnston. Through my historical research, I recently came across an 1888 Clarksburg newspaper. In it contained an advertisement for a drugstore in Shinnston named “The Cyclone”.
WOW! Little would the townspeople of 1888 have known that a real cyclone would visit the town fifty-six years later.
In my collection of photos, I have several images pertaining to the tornado,but the one shown here is one of my favorites. It was taken on Pleasant Hill and shows the remains of the last three homes on Second Street, before turning down Howard Street. The old Lucas farm on West Side is visible in the distance. The porch at far left is from the Pillo home and the home at right is the Storage home.
The middle home was where my maternal great grandparents, Herb and Oliven Andrick, lived. My great grandmother is seen sitting on what’s left of] her front porch. As a collector, it’s always interesting to find photographs pertaining to historic events.
In addition to the tornado, I also have several photos of the aftermath of the Monongah Mine Disaster along with other mine disasters as well as floods. However, this image forces me to grasp the depth of reality: someone was going around with a camera, taking photos of my grandparent’s distress. The person taking the photo still had a camera, still had film, still had a home to go to, still had a roof over their home, still had all of their furniture, and still had their loved ones.
My grandmother was sitting on her porch, most likely wondering where they were going to live, how would they make it through the summer with their garden destroyed, what furniture would be salvageable and where would they get the money to replace the furniture that wasn’t, how would the cleanup begin, would they be able to keep their four children fed and well?
She was facing a level of hardship that she had never experienced before and here was someone wanting to capture it on film. Little did she know that 79 years later, her great grandson would be holding the snapshot that this stranger was taking as he walked passed her.
I’m thankful for photographic history, but I’m also in touch with the lesson to be learned while looking at each image. I know that my great grandparents had worked through the night, helping uncover bodies—both dead and alive—from piles of debris. My grandfather was most likely still providing help when this image was taken. They had lost friends and neighbors of all ages.
This photograph, which was taken the day after the tornado, depicts a woman I knew many years later. I’m sure my great grandmother had many thoughts going through her mind when this image was taken, but I’m also certain that she was singing praises for the lives that were spared.
At the time the tornado struck, her four children were at the joint Baptist-Methodist Bible School closing program at the Methodist Church in town, along with many other children and families whose lives were shown mercy.
My grandmother was tired. She was broken-hearted. She was in distress. Most of all, she was thankful. And that is the story behind the photo.