By Stephen Smoot
Natural disasters do not simply leave an impression on a community or a region. When devastation in lives and property occurs, the event sears itself into the consciousness. From then on, the impact and memory affects what comes after. It enters into how the area defines itself, how it thinks about the future and how it prepares for trouble.
Buffalo Creek, West Virginia remembers its dam failure. Franklin, West Virginia remembers the Fire of ‘24. The South Branch of the Potomac watershed remembers the Flood of ‘85.
And Shinnston remembers the tornado of 1944.
June 23, 1944 was a typical summer evening until 8:30 PM. At that point, violent storms birthed a powerful F 4 tornado near the town of Wyatt – the type of event that most believe cannot occur in the rugged, eroded Appalachian plateau and adjoining Allegheny ridges and valleys to the east.
But it did.
The tornado commenced its macabre march through Harrison, Barbour, a short sliver of Taylor, and then Randolph until dissolving near Alta. The same storm brought severe damage to towns in Maryland and Pennsylvania as well. It traveled 153 miles with a path varying between 500 and 1,000 feet in length.
At “8:30 in the evening,” according to a work written in 1958 by Kyle McCormick, “from the northwest a great black funnel-shaped cloud appeared, traveling at about 40 miles per hour.” At first, the image better resembled a black plume of smoke from a massive fire “until they noticed a heavy mass of debris, timbers, trees, etc., traveling before the cloud. Then they knew the worst.”
Tornadoes do occur in West Virginia, just more rarely than in flatter areas. The first to hit the Mountain State after statehood occurred in Ritchie County in 1875. The most active year for tornadoes has been 2024 with a total of 18 with Kanawha County alone experiencing five. The next highest total is 14 from 1998.
In fact, at the exact time of this writing, a tornado watch currently covers Marion and Monongahela counties.
Most of the tornadoes that reach West Virginia rank low on the scale of intensity, between F – 0 and F – 2. None, however, reached the power and violence of the F – 4 that struck Shinnston. Witnesses reported automobiles pushed 100 feet and a cow impaled completely on a board. Personal papers and mail swept up in Shinnston and carried by atmospheric winds were deposited as far away as Moorefield.
Devastation hit the neighborhoods of Pleasant Hill and Lucas Mills. McCormick wrote of Pleasant Hill that “this group of houses just disappeared.” Debra Herndon, director of the Bice-Ferguson Museum in Shinnston said that parts of the neighborhood were “wiped off the map.” The speed of the storm gave residents little time to escape as it roared through. Over 70 died in Harrison County alone from the tornado, 103 in West Virginia overall. It took more than 400 homes as well.
Herndon said that Shinnston lost two percent of its total population in the event and that “almost everyone knew someone who died.”
Residents banded together, as they do in similar crises throughout the history of the Mountain State. “I think it’s fair to say that nearly everyone offered help,” explained local historian Bobby Bice. The american red Cross and Junior Red Cross, trained “for possible war disasters,” assisted residents in the days and weeks after the storm. Bice also shared that “the local and state police, as well as the National Guard, were brought in to not only help with clean up, but to block roadways.” This included retired troopers and officers volunteering to contribute their skilled efforts.
The tornado ripped down the State Police radio tower at their Shinnston barracks, requiring them to set up headquarters in the local telephone office, Bice recounts, saying “restoring service was an immediate need for communications.”
Vulture-like “out of town snoops wanting to come in and see what the disaster looked like and also to steal items that were laying in fields” warranted an official response as most pitched in to help the people and the city.
Clean up efforts required many to sift through dangerous piles of rubble to tend to those lost in the storm. “I know my great-grandfather used his flower panel delivery truck to help to haul bodies to the local hospitals.” This civilian volunteer was one of several businesses that helped in this fashion, including the three funeral homes in Shinnston. “Their hearses, which doubled as ambulances at that time period . . . (helped) to haul injured to the hospitals.,” Bice added.
They even pressed doors ripped from their hinges by the winds as gurneys to carry the injured.
Also in 1944, many of Shinnston’s young men had joined the service to fight for freedom in Europe, Asia, and on the high seas. The media, unfortunately, chose to amplify the horror of the event. As Bice stated, a common headline was “Shinnston, WV was wiped off the map by a tornado.” While what happened was horrific and bad enough, the tornado skirted past the town proper.
Herndon compared the impact on that generation of Shinnston residents to that of the terror attacks on New York City and the Pentagon in 2001. She said “much like people of my generation remember what they were doing when they heard about the twin towers, I’m sure everyone at that time remembered what they were doing when the tornado hit, or, for the men away at war, when they found out about it.”
The impact of trauma from natural disasters leaves profound and long-lasting impressions. Survivors of such disasters report that the approach of potentially violent storms have a trigger effect. As Herndon states, “as far as individual families and people, I hear a lot of stories, like mine, where the kids would be bundled down to the basement whenever there was a storm. The Shinnston Tornado made many people more aware, if not fearful, of storms.”
Many, unfortunately, lacked insurance to replace their homes and possessions, prolonging the misery for many even as the community stepped up to help the victims.
Similar stories come from other areas impacted by deadly and destructive flooding events, such as happened along the South Branch river system in 1985. Many scrambled up hillsides seconds before the rising waters ripped their homes and all of their possessions from them. Never again would they feel peace during hard rains.
These triggers, however, can also bring a positive effect. Herndon reports that the “Shinnston Tornado made the community more aware of the need for emergency preparedness. This community has always been very supportive of the EMS and Fire Department.” Additionally, even as other departments across the state struggle to fill volunteer emergency responder rosters, Herndon says that Shinnston rarely has problems finding men and women ready and willing to serve. She added that “maybe that’s part of seeing how badly we need those people when something horrendous happens.”
Communities that suffer through such tragedies and their aftermath also find comfort in sharing their stories. In 1946, John Finlayson published a book of stories that he collected from survivors and others. Many who had not contributed to that work shared theirs later on through the Shinnston Historical Association.
In Appalachia, experiences of tragedies, destruction, and loss always evolve into remembrances of resilience. The City of Shinnston, and other communities struck by the storm, continued on and regularly remembers not only the sadness of loss, but also the pride of perseverance.