Tornado at Manchester, SD - A Different View
Most of the tornadoes I have seen in my "chasing career" have been in rural areas. Which is
good for the metro areas, not so good for the rural folks that have been unlucky enough to
collide with these tornadoes. When a long-track tornado moves through a sparsely populated
region of the plains, there are some instances where they will attain an F2 or F3 rating (strong)
and the "word around the business" is that it likely would have been rated as violent (F4 or F5)
had it moved through a city. While this is not to question the ratings of a tornado - as the
Fujita Scale deals with damage inflicted - frequently, some structures are hit. When a metro
area the size of Oklahoma City (May 3, 1999) or Kansas City (May 4, 2003) is struck by a
violent tornado, they often become a media center for days. Local and National news will lead
off with stories of survival, loss and heroic acts. Everyone across the country is able to get a
feel for the loss endured by the victims.
When dealing with the media (especially nationally), it is easy to see that "bigger" is better. It
needs to be a big tornado, that destroys lots of property, and kills many people before it gets
much attention. In some ways this is understandable. With 1200 or so tornadoes each year in
the nation, it would not be possible to give each of them the same amount of "national
exposure". Admittedly, a very large percentage of these tornadoes do not warrant any
coverage at all. However, whether a tornado hits one house or a thousand, there is one thing
that they all have in common. Someone has sustained loss. Often, when people hear that a
tornado tracked for 20 miles and hit only two or three farmsteads, the response you will hear is
one of "Thank goodness it didn't really hit anything" or, "It stayed in the country, just a couple
of farms were hit".
While it is true that a tornado that destroys 29 homes is "better" than a tornado that destroys
30, the personal loss by each affected is similar. And, it's similar to the unlucky family that
may be the only casualties in another tornado. Whether it's someone watching the news a
thousand miles away, or a stormchaser that watches it happen, it's easy to forget just how
much can be lost by a family when they are the only ones affected.
In the heat of an ongoing chase, I have passed several homes that have been hit by tornadoes.
If I am the only one there, I will make sure to stop and see if anyone is in need of medical
attention. Thankfully, it’s very rare to find someone in need of my assistance. It's usually a
brief stop and then I am gone, back to the chase. The questions usually hit me a few days later.
Who lived there? What was their story? What did they lose? I was faced with this exact
situation on June 24, 2003 at a farmstead two miles north of the small town of Manchester,
SD. I had just watched a farmhouse get completely destroyed. The county sheriff was on the
scene with me, he told me that he didn't need my help, and I was on my way.
A few weeks ago, I received an e-mail from a gentleman who lives in Huron, SD. Brian Flindt
told me that he came across my website and saw the images I shot as the tornado was
destroying the home north of Manchester. This was the home his great-grandfather built in
1903. He went on to describe how many generations of his family lived in the house and what
it meant to him. He described the small town of Manchester (that doesn't exist now). And, he
was glad to see the images as they provided somewhat of a "closing" to the history of this
house and town. His house and town. The stories helped me to understand what it must be like
to have such a large part of your history completely taken away by a tornado.
As a stormchaser, it's easy to refer to debris that we come across as just that, debris. If the
debris contains parts of furniture, food, toys and other belongings, then it contains one other
thing: a story. In an effort to remind us all of the loss a family can sustain by a tornado, I asked
Mr. Flindt to put down a few lines about his house and town.
January 2004
On the evening of June 24, 2003, the national record for 67 tornadoes in one state in 24 hours, was tied. The most fierce of these tornadoes, an F4, struck my hometown of Manchester, South Dakota. Four generations of my family originate from there.
A few media sources in reporting this tornadic event tried to characterize Manchester as a tiny hamlet or a virtual ghost town. To some degree each label is true. The homes and buildings left in town were a cherished remnant of what the town once had been. Manchester, like so many prairie towns, began in the early 1880's and was somewhat self-contained out of necessity. Manchester was the center of life for many neighboring farms as well as the people who lived in the town. A rich social life and healthy business community existed at Manchester, too. There were general stores, groceries, a bank, a pool hall, a livery stable, a lumber yard, a blacksmith shop/garage, two gas stations, two grain elevators, restaurants, an egg-buying station, a hotel and a town hall; not to mention two churches and a school. As transportation and the roads improved by the 1920's, Manchester began to diminish and neighboring towns increasingly drew business and the town’s population away.
A highlight in my infancy occurred when the state’s territorial centennial was celebrated with a festival located near Manchester’s southwest border and over 150,000 people came to celebrate, which set the record as the state’s largest crowd at the time. Clint Eastwood, then a young actor, was there signing autographs and promoting his western television series, “Rawhide”. Another record event would not take place at Manchester until June 24, 2003, when the tornado engulfed the remaining citizens and their property. Incidentally, the path the tornado took went right over the field where this festival was held.
Though the town of Manchester was leveled, perhaps a new chapter in the town’s history is beginning, this one based on tornadic research. Now many stormchasers will hold vivid memories of Manchester and the immediate area and they, along with historically-rooted people like myself, will be connected to a “virtual” Manchester.
The F4 tornado which had just destroyed Manchester, reserved some of its wrath for a two-story farm house located two miles north of the town.
The family who lived in this house, although not relatives of mine, tragically lost everything. This farmstead was created by my great-grandfather, who began building the farmhouse in 1903 just prior to his marriage. In the summer of 1904, once the grain crop was threshed and sold, the profits were used to finance the completion of the dwelling, the doors and windows. During this harvest time, my great-grandparents were camping out as newlyweds in the freshly built barn until the elegant house was done. Years later, my newlywed grandparents enjoyed this house as their home and this is where my mom was born and grew up. This was a pleasant, typical American family farm, where corn, small grain and livestock were raised to make a living and where eggs and cream were “traded” in town for groceries in the early years.
Now in the aftermath of the tornado, all that remains is the land and I think of my connection to my ancestors here. I consider the tornadic research which was achieved at this very locale and, to me, this farmhouse which was splintered into shreds lives on as “mine”, and exists in my photos and has enduring importance.
Brian Flindt
Video-capture as farmhouse is being hit.
Image taken near the same location showing the farm just after the tornado.
