A child's view of the 1949 Cape Girardeau tornado

By Judy Ruebel Weber

May 21, 1949, through the eyes and ears of a 6-year-old child.

Place: The Airline Gas Station-Liquor Store and Respectable Restaurant. Also nearby the Airline Tourist Court, lined with cabins and office on U.S. 61 in Cape Girardeau.

It's a stormy Saturday evening. A family of four is getting ready to leave for a movie. An aged aunt already has gone to bed in the family's cabin on the back row. An uncle is there to help tourists that evening.

It has been storming, and the narrow road from the tourist court's office to the restaurant was a muddy mess. The mother grabs the 3-year-old son. The uncle grabs the girl. And the father runs behind, with the sound of a tornado in the air, to warn the restaurant workers. There is no sign of many cars there.

The tornado crosses U.S. 61 and makes its circle back toward the highway. It sounds like a roaring monster as the family enters the restaurant full of people.

The word "tornado" ran through the crowd from the lady's lips, and the man tried to close the door as the people ran for cover under tables and held on to bolted bar stools.

The twisting, roaring wind tore the building apart. Walls fell. Wind, dirt and sand peppered our skin like fire from a jet's tail.

The mother covered her 3-year-old to save his life from the falling partition, which fell on top of her.

The wind died, and the rain slowed down. No one was sure what had happened. Was it a dream?

Gas tanks were blown over. The air smelled of dust, dirt and gasoline.

The small girl was uncovered by her uncle, and her first thought was: Where was her Aunt Ida Hahn? The uncle went out to search for her back at the cabin, our home. The cabins were not there. They were gone. Only the flat floor remained. He found her back in a cornfield, now Spartech Plastic. She died the next day of a head injury.

Back at the restaurant, the lady lay injured. She cried out not to light cigarettes or matches because of the gas spill.

Two businessmen came to collect their nickels and dimes from the jukebox and cigarette machine. They threw down their cigarettes, not worried about the people in need of help. They are no longer in business.

The funeral home came to pick up the dead, not the injured.

As the lady lay in pain, not able to move, an Army doctor passing through in a Jeep stopped and took her to a hospital. There she laid in the hall with the injured. Our doctor, John T. Crowe, was there to help. He later told the lady if she had not laid so long she would not have lost so much fluid on her spine.

Was it greed or the fury of the wind that bound this young lady of 22 to a wheelchair for the rest of her life? Some say she was a hero saving the lives of those at the Airline. The restaurant was rebuilt by the owners, the Bradys, who for some years gave a dinner in the lady's honor and those who battled the storm.

This brave lady was my mother, Annabelle Gilliland Ruebel.

I would like to thank the American Red Cross and the Salvation Army for the help they gave to all.

Father: Weldon John Ruebel. Mother: Annabelle Gilliland Ruebel. Brother: Weldon John Ruebel II. Daughter: Judith Ann Ruebel Weber. Uncle: Arthur Ruebel. Great-aunt: Ida Hahn.