Elkhart County Historical Museum Remembers the 1965 Palm Sunday Tornadoes

My friend Debbie Watters, prorieter of the 1965 Palm Sunday Tornado Memorial Park in Dunlap, Indiana, sent me the following article from the Elkhart Truth newspaper:

It’s been almost 44 years since the Palm Sunday tornado tore through Elkhart County, killing dozens and injuring hundreds. It will be the focus of a special program at a local museum.
The Elkhart County Historical Museum is organizing a remembrance of the April 11, 1965, di saster. The memorial will be from 2 to 4 p.m. April 5 at the museum, 304. W. Vistula, Bristol.
Nicholas Hoffman, director and curator of the museum, said the tornado is an important part of local history.
“It was a really big occurrence that impacted many people,” Hoffman said.
Patrick Murphy, a meteorologist from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Association, will talk about how tornadoes form and the factors that led to the 1965 tornado outbreak that spawned 40 tornadoes across the Midwest and left 271 people dead.
“We’re really excited to have NOAA participating in this event with us because they’re certainly the experts on these events,” Hoffman said.
A panel of survivors of the Palm Sunday tornado will take questions after Murphy’s presentation.
The panel will include John Clark, a retired Elkhart police officer, and Paul Huffman, the retired Elkhart Truth photographer who snapped the famous photo of the twin twisters.
“[Huffman] captured the horror of that day with one photograph,” said the curator.
There will be an open microphone portion for anyone interested in talking about the disaster.
The museum will also provide table space for collectors to display items they found in the wake of the tornado.
For more information call the museum at 848-4322.
Of course I plan on attending. My interest in the Palm Sunday Tornadoes extends back to my childhood, and in recent months it has become an area of increasing research. I am particularly excited to learn that Paul Huffman–whose photograph of the twin funnels striking the Midway Trailer Court, remains one of the most dramatic, all-time classic tornado photos ever taken–will be one of the panelists. That’s just my opinion, but I think that many severe weather meteorologists, tornado historians, and storm chasers will agree. Over the years I have viewed hundreds of tornado photos. I have seen some incredible images, ranging from the sublime to the scary, but nothing quite like that old black-and-white snapped over forty years ago by a young press photographer as he stood in the inbounds with his camera just a few hundred yards from mayhem, witnessing the last moments of a community.
I hope to get a chance to talk with Mr. Huffman. I also look forward to meeting Pat Murphy, lead forecaster for the Northern Indiana NWS. He and I have connected previously concerning the Palm Sunday Tornadoes, and have made plans to get together next week Sunday, April 11–the 44th anniversary of the outbreak–to trace the paths of some of the twisters. But that’s a separate story, and while this is an area of personal fascination for me, there’s also another, parallel motive which I’m hesitant to divulge just yet.
Stay tuned, though. You’ll be reading more about the 1965 Palm Sunday Tornadoes in this blog.
And on that note, I invite you to leave a comment if you experienced the Palm Sunday Tornadoes firsthand. If you are a storm survivor, or if you possess personal, unpublished photographs or old film footage of one of the actual tornadoes, I would love to hear from you.

Storm Chasing Selectivity (aka Impulse Control, aka Curbing the Impulse to Chase Any and Every Dumb System That Comes Down the Pike)

If the developmental curve of storm chasing is analogous to the seasons of life, then I think I’ve moved out of adolescence into young adulthood. Just as testosterone-driven impulses become tempered with knowledge and experience as callow youth transitions into maturity, so do idiotic, desperate, SDS-and-adrenaline-fueled urges to chase at the drop of a hat become balanced by an awareness of how stupid it is to waste time and gas driving hundreds of miles in pursuit of borderline scenarios.

Living in Michigan carries a steeper price tag than living in Kansas or even Iowa when it comes to busted chases. I can’t afford not to be selective, and I think I’ve finally internalized that lesson. As this year’s convective weather season has begun to ramp up, so far my greatest attainment hasn’t been successful chases, but rather, my refusal to get pulled into 2,000-mile excursions this early in the year.

Dixie Alley has had its moments, but so far they’ve been nothing like 2008. Tornado Alley has also offered a few setups, even one or two moderate risks, but I’ve been content to follow them at home on the radar, and I’ve been glad I did. If I lived in Oklahoma, I’d have been on them in a heartbeat. But when the party’s over and you live in Michigan–well, it had better have been a darned good party, because it’s a long drive home.

True, I chased at the beginning of this month in Kansas and Oklahoma. But I was already in the neighborhood, so to speak, and the chase opportunities were just frosting on the cake. I was happy with the Hutchinson, KS, action on March 7, but I probably wouldn’t have gone after it if I’d had to travel 800 miles to see it instead of simply heading north up I-35 from Norman.

Until last year, my chases have largely been event-driven. A system would move in and my buddy Bill, or Kurt, or Tom, and I would head out to Illinois, or Iowa, or Kansas, Nebraska, or Texas, or wherever, and chase it.  Last May was the first time I’ve spent more than three days out west. The logistics were different and definitely superior, and a change in my life circumstances–i.e. getting “restructured” with a decent severance, and starting my own business as a freelance writter–allowed me to tap into them.

This year I hope to spend even more time out on the Great Plains. The nature of my profession allows me that flexibility, and I love it.  This may be the year when I finally take a ten-day chase vacation and conduct my business out on the road.

I hope so. It’s been a long winter, I’ve waited a long time, and I’ve been very patient.

And now I’m itching to see some tornadoes.