Big stories require big space.
Sometimes newspapers spread such articles across multiple pages, or “jump” within an issue.
Other times, we launch a series.
Tornadoes are a big story.
When it comes time to report the history of tornadoes in Central Texas “in the archives,” just as we do with floods and other natural disasters, it makes sense to break that history into pieces.
Rather than starting with a chronology, we’re kicking off this regular series with a full column salvaged from the August 29, 2015 edition.
I wrote it as some kind of historical puzzle.
“The Bagsley Family Conspiracy”
The Bagsley family’s land is located in Longview Park in southwest Austin, near the historic Liberty Colony of Golden Riverville. (Austin360)
The mystery begins in the cemetery.
Located in a park in southwest Austin, among juniper groves, sits a family plot of land guarded by a tall mesh fence.
Four clearly visible stones stand among the rubble. Three identical family designs – decorated with bas-relief garlands – face the path.
“Father: John Bagsley: March 13, 1828 to October 13, 1904.”
“Mother: Sarah Bagsley: September 2, 1834 – May 4, 1922.”
“Ida Lena Bagsley: July 6, 1877 – May 4, 1922.”
Why do family members from different generations die on the same day?
Neighbors ask questions
During one of their frequent trips to Longview Park, Kevin Davis, who lived nearby, noted the date of death of his wife, historian Chantal McKenzie.
They didn’t come to a conclusion. Later, however, while browsing the Austin History Center website, McKenzie saw a striking image: a funnel cloud swirling around the state Capitol dome in a distressing gray.
Date of the tornado: May 4, 1922.
McKenzie wanted to know if the Bagsleys died in the twin tornadoes that killed 13 people that day.
I must admit that aside from the famous image of the Capitol, I knew next to nothing about the city’s deadliest tornado. It’s time for an always popular trip to the historic centre.
Scholars begin
Preserved here is Frederic William Simonds’s 24-page “Tornado in Austin, Texas, May 4, 1922,” published in the University of Texas Bulletin on February 15, 1923.
Simonds, a geology professor, witnessed the more westerly of the two tornadoes.
Simmonds writes: “About four o’clock the writer was suddenly summoned from his home, a block and a half north of the University of Texas campus, and excited shouts directed his attention to unusual clouds to the north. On reaching the street he saw to the west of the north a large, rapidly advancing, dark and threatening storm-cloud, above which hung a rapidly rotating funnel, characteristic of a tornado.”
Simmonds chronicles their path calmly and grimly. The first plane landed at four locations, starting six miles north of Austin near Spicewood Springs and then one mile southwest. It then crashed into what was then known as the National Institute for Deaf, Dumb, Blind and Colored Youth on Bull Creek Road between 38th and 45th Streets. It eventually enveloped the Deep Eddy Recreation Campground.
Numerous photos published in the Gazette and other photos of the historic center show destroyed buildings. The first tornado killed one person.
A second tornado broke off and tore through the Texas Cemetery in East Austin before bouncing in and out of traffic over Travis Heights. It severely damaged three buildings on the St. Edward’s University campus and then destroyed businesses around Penn Field, including Woodward Manufacturing and a large water tower. It roared south, damaging the St. Elmo Township School and the Hatkov Creamery.
“Judging from the aftermath of the storm, a veritable rain of lumber, planks, debris and roofs must have swept across the Postal Highway from Austin to San Antonio,” Simmonds wrote. “Given the typically heavy automobile traffic on this highway, it’s a miracle that there were no injuries.”
The tornado is not over yet.
“Two and a half miles southeast of Oak Hill, eight miles or more from Austin’s origins, the tornado completely destroyed the Bagsley home, killing six people,” he wrote. “The intensity of the storm at this time was evident as almost no trace of the house was left except for the chimney stones. Visitors to the site were surprised to find that even the feathers of the poultry had been plucked out.”
Assess the impact
A tornado in 1922 caused livestock to scatter and die. All the feathers of the chicken were plucked. (Austin American-Statesman)
All told, the second tornado killed 12 people, half of them at the Bargsley House in Kincheonville, a free colony built shortly after emancipation in 1885.
Today, people can explore Longview Park and its attached preserves to find stacked stone fences and other evidence of farming or ranching. Although the surrounding community was developed as early as the 1970s, there are still some small private ranches nearby.
On May 5, 1922, the Austin Statesman’s headline read: “Storm kills 13, injures 44, more than $700,000 in property damage: Tornado leaves a trail of debris in its path.”
William J. Weeg remembers the newspaper’s response to a 1960 report, saying he was working in the Statesman’s office at Seventh and Brazos streets at the time. Editor-in-Chief EJ Walthall said: “He was getting ready to leave when he saw the tornado coming. He was yelling and we were all on the phone, telling the composition room staff and stylists to get back to work and go over the information.”
After reporting the damage in Travis Heights, Weger got other first-hand accounts by phone.
In 1922, the Statesman listed the dead on its front page: “Miss Ida Bagsley, 46,” and “Mrs. John Bagsley Sr., 89.” In a sad sign of the times, others who died at home that day included “John Thompson, 26,” “Mrs. Alta Thompson, John Thompson’s mother,” “Maria Kinchion, 70,” and “Harper, girl, negro, 10.” The newspaper used racial slurs common at the time.
Over the next few decades, the paper published living memories of survivors, including stories written by J. Frank Dobie and presented in a cringe-worthy dialect.
Historian Mike Cox laid out a clean account and interviewed experts in a 1970 newspaper article.
“In 1922, Austin had only about 20,000 residents,” meteorologist David Barnes told Cox. “If you think about what would happen if a tornado hit this year, the death rate could easily increase 10 times.”
Now imagine today.
In 1970, when Cox’s story was published, Austin counted about 250,000 people. The metropolitan area’s population now reaches 2.5 million.
Given increased population density, today’s death toll may be 100 times higher than the 12 or 13 deaths in 1922.
Please send tips and questions to mbarnes@statesman.com.