Submitter’s note: This story was written by Elizabeth Phillips Roush, Brown County native. Since we have entered the stormy season, we thought we would share Elizabeth’s story as she remembered from her childhood. Many people remember being caught in storms and how they were traumatized — something one could never forget.
I, Elizabeth Roush, was 8 years old when one afternoon we saw a storm coming toward the house from the south. My father had gone to town in a wagon for a load of feed. At that time, we had one of the nicest and strongest barns in the country. It was all built of native lumber.
Our house was old. My mother put us three girls on the feather bed and said she would go to the barn and open the big doors so dad could drive in with his feed. He had run the horses for a long way to get home before the storm.
As he drove into the barn, they saw this funnel cloud coming across the field. Dad said to Mom, “Climb over into the manger and lay flat on the ground.” He was holding the horses, as they were jumping so high and wanted to go right on through the driveway where the buggy was. Mom decided she would climb over into the next stall to be closer to Dad. When Dad couldn’t hold the horses any longer and the barn began to go, he jumped over into the stall and grabbed Mom and pulled her to the ground just as a piece of timber hit her and she started to go with it. He fought her and the wind trying to hold her to the ground. She was delirious. She kept trying to go to the house to us.
After what seemed like half an hour, Dad was able to get to the house. We three children and our grandparents were all huddled in a small hallway holding two doors. One had already come off. The window lights were all broken out and a tree was against the bedroom door. Dad said, “The barn and everything in it is gone.”
The lightning, thunder and high wind continued. After some time, we got our mother settled down and she took the hairpins out of her hair. They were twisted and bent. She sat there and straightened them out. We should have saved them.
We had pigs and chickens in the house that night. A Kodak picture that was in the library drawer was sucked out by the wind and carried over into the woods by Waymansville where it was found.
As soon as we could get out, every one of our neighbors was hollering for help. They first came and got our horses unhitched from the wagon. They had gone probably 30 feet farther and had large timbers all around them, even in between their legs.
The timbers from the barn were stacked six to eight feet high all over the barnyard. The only place where there were no timbers was the place where Mom and Dad had laid. It was approximately six feet in diameter and was like a pond where ducks had wallowed. The first stall Mother was in had large beams across it.
After working some time to get the horses out, we heard a call from across the field from William Shultz to come help get his horses.
On down the road, our big church was gone, all piled up in a heap. It was rebuilt in 1919 by William “Bill” Cornett and James “Jim” Smith. My grandfather, Richard M. Phillips, Mr. Tovey and others solicited donations and got the church rebuilt. There was no insurance on it.
That was the third church my grandfather helped build at Becks Grove. This was a Christian church. The Church of Christ people came from Houston and Freetown to help us clean up the mess.
— Submitted by Pauline Hoover, Brown County Historical Society
