[Letter from Margaret Renton Chesney to her mother, Meda Renton, in Portland, Oregon, describing the tornado that hit Woodward, Oklahoma and surrounding areas on April 9, 1947.

Feminist criminologist Meda Chesney-Lind, the "Baby" referred to in the letter, was less than three months old when the tornado hit and destroyed their home.]

April ’47

Dear Family,

Well here we all are—safe & well & so happy to be alive. I can’t help feeling Baby & I were saved for some purpose & that we have a sacred responsibility to find that purpose & fulfill it. And we’ve found Christian spirit in strangers and love in our acquaintances & friends so much that we’re just awed.

But here’s the story so we can all get it off our chests once and for all. It had been a muggy day then up strang what I though I knew was one of these prairie spring hale storms—the kind we’ve been through on our trips—a sudden drenching of large hale stones then all over in a minute.

The lights began to flicker so I got a flashlight. I was in the corner of the living room with baby in my arms, thank God when it seemed to me the weather stripping on the front of the house began to howl. But instead of dying away, it rose to a shriek & then it seemed that electric wires were flapping in our attick. By now the lights were out. I still hadn’t caught on but began to be nervous. As the noise increased I must have lost my head. I thought it was the front of the house but other witnesses say the wind as a whole was making the noise. But I started away from the noise as I thought then became terrified and heard the house cracking behind me. It seemed to follow me & there seemed no hiding place so I tried to open the back door. The vacuum would only let it open several inches then it would slam again. Then the ice-box from the porch came crashing through and I was thrown into the center of the kitchen which Bob’s table tipped onto the stove leaving a cozy nest for baby & me. The back wall caved in over this & the kitchen-dining room wall was supported by the buffet & dining room table. It seemed as if suddenly every thing was crashing down all around us. It seemed as if the next falling timber would crush our nest and finish us. I just squatted prayer fashion with Meda at my knees because I thought I’d have to get crushed pretty badly to flatten out that way. She was so cute! I’d say, “Oh, baby, listen to the big wind” as if it were lots of fun & she’d just coo & gurgle. Then she’d pout & wimper as if she were scolding me for letting all the bits of plaster dust fall in her face. We went back later &no one could figure out how I got out of my hold, especially with her in my arms. I had to get out, though, because I could see a whole section of town on fire & I was afraid the pilot on the stove might set fire where we were. It was the only place in the house I could have gotten except perhaps under our bed & not been hit by flying glass, tin & wood. Babys bed was crushed. The back porch is gone(with baby bed, chairs & play pen). So we thank God Baby was with me & that I was unable to open that door.

I went two houses down where there was part of a roof & was just standing there stunned & alone & wondering what to do with baby in all this cold when I heard “Margo! Margo!” It was Charlie Robinson & like a voice from heaven. They hadn’t known we’d had a cyclone but saw the fires and guessed I might be alone & frightened. They were truly terrified when they drew near our section & hugged Baby & me as if returned from the dead.

At Audrey’s house we bathed Meda & washed clean her cut—now a neet scab with no redness or fever. Then fed her & put her to bed in Audrey’s twin carriage. Then Charlie went back to dig & look for Bob. Audrey threw me in the bath tub. My arms, legs & face were nigger colored with mud. (It was raining & the wind painted walls & everyone with it). My hair was a matted mess of mud, plaster & twigs.

Someone from Woodward told Bob at Vici that the Northern half of Woodward was gone. He flew up, blazed a trail through the wreckage with his car then was frantic when he crossed the tracks & saw our house. The people with whom I’d been had moved on and five others were digging for baby & me.

When they couldn’t find us, Bob & our next-door neighbors (They were in church when it happened) searched the relief stations & morgues then returned to scour the surrounding fields. Two hours later they found someone who said a “Charlie” had taken me & we were safe. Poor Bob was a wreck. As soon as he had seen us & calmed down he went to salvage in our wreck of a house but heard loud speakers calling for all available men. The city council was organizing groups of five to assign to streets (start at the N & work S or start at W and work E) to locate wounded and “dig out”. He was out all the rest of the night with this.

The next day we all (Charlie & Audrey included) took turns watching the flock of babies & salvaging from our wreck. All our clothes were wet & the sun wouldn’t come out. We spread them all over Audrey’s yard. Then neighbors came to help us hang things in their attic. There was no electricity or water but the gas was left on so things could be sterilized. The creamery gave us a 10 gal. Milk can & the boys foraged farms for water for the babies. Bu the grown-ups ate off dirty dishes & didn’t wash their hands.

Late that day Forrest Wimbish found us. He stayed over-night at Bob’s well (come Hell & High Water it keeps drilling) and helped move our furniture to the Episcopal Church. (The minister asked if he could help & we took him at his word) then the next day Forrest brought Meda & me to stay with them until Bob gets our things affairs straightened out & until the Co. decides what to do about us. The latest is that they may move a trailer to Vici for us.

Yesterday the company sent its Dr. to examine Meda & me & our only injury is the tetanus shot he gave me. Now I can hardly hobble & feel swollen all over. I have a bad cold, too. But Meda is thriving. She looked tired when we got here because Audrey’s house is smaller & it was always full of their & our anxious friends. She slept almost contantly the first day here but since then has been everybody’s darling. Her experiences only served to scare the colic out of her. She smiles & talks all the time. We have her buggy up in my room but she likes to spend the days in a basket in the living room where she can see what’s going on and talk to everyone.

I brought all our clothes to the city. The cleaners is storing all our blankets & winter clothes so we won’t have to think about de-mothing or where to keep them. I sent everything but silks & woolens & baby’s nice dresses to the laundry & cleaners. And I washed the rest this morning. So everything is straightening itself out & its amazing what we were able to salvage.

The garage, back porch and roof are gone. The South wall is standing. The North wall looks as if it got tired & just lay down in the yard (with toilet tissue & bath brush still hanging in place. The West wall fell in (kitchen). The East wall is up in front of the living room & down gone in front of the bed-room. The huge pillar (cement) at the corner of the front porch is gone. The bathroom walls are standing but the West of the dining room & office fell in. The house is a mass of rubble. But our furniture is amazingly saved. Lela Hurd’s ice box, stove & dining room suite are a mess. But most of our stuff is all right. The bed clothes are gone but your mattress & springs aren’t even torn. The bureaus all stand against the edge of the room intact (as on a deck) The piano still plunks. The lid on the sewing machine is warped (otherwise intact). The Electrolux isn’t even dusty. The Bendix looks pretty bad though. We can’t get to it until some of the walls are torn away.

Audrey was so nice to us we couldn’t thank her or pay or anything enough. They wouldn’t take money, of course, But while Audrey was helping me sort we came across our dear Aunt Dorothy’s diamond ring. She admired it & I gave it to her telling her it was a family heirloom. I hope you don’t mind, Mom. (For what would we have done that awful night without real friends).

The Wimbishes have been swell, too. Mrs. Wimbish says Meda & I are good “chinking” for their big house now that both their children are away in college.

I guess you’ve read all about it in the papers but pictures can’t begin to show the devastation. Charlie says the bombed cities of Japan weren’t as bad. Bob had the worst of the deal in our family because he was so sure I was gone those two hours he was looking. When he found us he just hugged us & kept sobbing “I knew you were dead” over and over. Then on top of it all he saw the rows in the morgues, the dying on the hospital floors. He even went through the operating rooms. Then he had to spend the night digging. They couldn’t take casualties as they found them—just made lists—name, address, type injury—so they could be taken systematically in order of severity of injury.

But it’s all over now. We’re busy getting our belongings in order. I expect Bob in this afternoon. Then we & the Co. all together can plan some sort of future. We’re so glad to be alive the “future” seems not too important.

God bless you all & we’ll write when we get any news.