It was a quiet afternoon in the office as we prepared to put out the Christmas edition of The Columbian-Progress that day. What happened not long after lunch on Dec. 23, 2014, changed Columbia and me forever.
At 2:22 p.m., moments after tornado warnings had been issued, an EF-3 tornado touched down in the heart of our community.
All of the memories came flooding back the other day as a long-anticipated project came to fruition.
“Columbia 2:22, Reflections of the 2014 Deadly Tornado” arrived at our office. It’s a limited edition book, produced by the staff of the C-P that looks back on that fateful day and the events that occurred in the days, weeks and months following the tornado.
As I flipped through the pages, I remembered the events that unfolded as the photos were taken.
As the power went out that afternoon, I remember grabbing two police radios and heading for the door. I caught bits and pieces of radio traffic from firefighters and law enforcement and we knew the situation was bad.
What we encountered as we left the office was nothing short of catastrophic. I was a passenger in a car driven by former C-P Publisher Adam Prestridge. My cohort in the newsroom at the time was Buster Wolfe. As they three of us began to explore the post-tornado views of our community, it was apparent just how bad the damage was. After a quick trip down U.S. 98, we headed to check our own residences. We passed the Jack Morris Gas building that had been level moments earlier. The donut shop was gone, Jack’s Family Restaurant was in ruins and every home in the Wilks Trailer Park was damaged. It was only later that I would learn one person had died there.
We passed Walmart, where it seemed every car had been damaged, taking pictures in the pouring rain. At this point, we knew that we were in for a long haul. We arrived at my house and I went in to grab supplies. I checked on our pets, while keeping my wife, Amelia, and son, Brian, up to date on the latest. My son had tried to call from Georgia, where he was spending part of his Christmas vacation with his mother. I won’t ever forget the text I received from him. He’d seen a report on TV that said Columbia had been decimated. His text was a simple one, “Dad, do we still have a house?”
Luckily, I was able to answer that we had not received damage, despite devastation less than a half mile from the house. Our poor dog Sugar was nestled in her crate under a blanket shivering. She had obviously heard the tornado. To this day, bad weather terrifies her.
The next days became a blur. There were nights in the Emergency Operations Center, Gov. Phil Bryant came to town. I met many great people and got closely acquainted with others.
Early on Dec. 24, I finally saw what had happened along Mississippi 13 South and East Marion School Road. I criss-crossed our community from Columbia-Purvis Road to Lakeview. Everywhere I looked was devastation.
I and the others took thousands of pictures and began to tell the stories of death and survival. By 2014, I’d gotten to meet a lot of people in Marion County. One of my first encounters the morning after was a friend, who had long been a friend of my wife’s, whose business had been all but destroyed. I walked in and found her standing among the rubble. She hugged me and sobbed. There was a lot of crying, but there was also a lot of rejoicing.
On Christmas Day, I joined Carlton Thornhill and friends on 13 South amidst the rubble as Santa Claus arrived. Families who had lost everything smiled as gifts were handed out to children whose homes had disappeared in an instant just two days before.
There were more hugs and tears in the days to come. I celebrated New Year’s with the folks on Mississippi 13 South. As a matter of fact, one of my favorite stories is of the celebration that didn’t happen. As Thornhill and a host of people prepared to shoot fireworks on New Year’s Eve, fire tones went off dispatching the South Marion Volunteer Fire Department to a gas leak in a destroyed home nearby. Chief Anthony Dillon and his crew were on hand for the fireworks, waiting to have a hot dog when the call came out. They responded and the fireworks were postponed until the next day.
The next day brought a bizarre kind of New Year’s celebration. We all weren’t quite sure what to do or say. Heck, there was a even a case of the missing 100 hot dogs that occurred during the process (no, I didn’t eat them, and no, they were never found … it’s a long story).
There was also a church service at Woodlawn Church, which itself had been heavily damaged in the tornado. Inside the Family Life Center, a sanctuary was set up in the gym. It came complete with twisted metal from the damaged sanctuary and a battered American flag.
During this service, I finally had my chance to let go. We hadn’t slept in days and I’d spent most of my time engrossed in the tragedy. Near the end of the service, as pastor Jerron Carney spoke, a local businessman and family friend came up to hug me. All of the emotions from the week came over me and I’ll admit that I cried like a baby right there in the makeshift sanctuary.
I moved on and so did the community. Almost immediately people began to remove debris and rebuild. Columbia and Marion County were united in a huge effort to restore the community. Soon outside groups arrived. I enjoyed meeting folks from my home state, Ohio, who came down to help.
What took place in the months following the tornado in Columbia is honestly nothing short of miraculous. We (our community) rebuilt. Neighbors helped neighbors and strangers became friends.
This book is our way of sharing those experiences, from the moments immediately after the tornado through the beginning of the cleanup. It’s our way of sharing with you. The hardback glossy book is available at our office at 318 Second St. or by mail. There are advertisements in the paper for it.
Someday, when I hang up my cameras and my newspaper career is over, I’m sure I’ll look through the pages of the book and reflect again about the memories. I’m proud to say that I helped tell the story of a community rising together from its devastation. I’m also thankful for the friends that I made during the long days and nights following the disaster. While it’s not something I want to go through again, I know the threat always looms. As I sit writing this column, I’ve been watching the track of Hurricane Irma and the other storms in the Atlantic Ocean. Whatever the future brings, I’ll work to record the history with my cameras and share it with our readers.
Mark Rogers is managing editor for The Columbian-Progress. He can be reached at (601) 736-2611 or by email at news@columbianprogress.com.
