PART II A Chilling Account of the 1851 Bellevue Tornado

 In February of 1851, a tornado decimated the east-central Bossier Parish village of Bellevue. Sometimes spelled “Belle Vue,” this tiny, remote community was the seat of Bossier Parish from the parish’s beginnings in 1843 until 1888, when it moved to its present location of Benton. This is a continuation of last week’s story (1/25/23) of how the village fared in the aftermath of this unpredicted destructive, nighttime storm. An anonymous resident described their harrowing experience in a journal, which the “The Bossier Banner” reprinted on January 17, 1895:

“’My God!’ was the general cry among us, ‘the whole town is in ruins and many must be killed!’ And then breaking out like wild men, the first object we saw was the dwelling of Dick Hollingsworth, a mass of ruins crashed between the weight of a large tree that had fallen across its center; we were at the house in a moment; we saw Dick, with his arms around his wife and little ‘Doc,’ while Mrs. H. was holding her infant in her arms, the huge tree within three feet of them and the crashed and shattered masses of roof and timber all around there. There they stood, each a mute, pale stature of terror—neither of them moving and scarcely breathing! We called to him, and he looked as awakening from a dream and answered.

‘We are all safe here, but in God’s name’—and pointed to Bodenheimer’s. So complete was the wreck here that from our position we could see no sign of a house! Some small trees in the yard had been uprooted and hid the ruins from our sight. We, however, rushed forward and saw Mrs. B. running with her infant in her arms, as if pursued by some dread object, with a wild instinct, seeking for some refuge, after the danger was entirely over.”

The house was a complete wreck—the logs thrown every way—the floor sills lifted from the blocks upon which the house rested, and not one chair or other article of furniture but what was broken, but not one soul out of the seven that were in the room was injured.

By 1847, the earliest Jewish settler in the area, Jacob Bodenheimer, was living in Bellevue with his wife, Eliza Weil. The baby in her arms would have been their first child, Harriette, born in 1850. Jacob was one of the first business owners in Bellevue, including providing lodging for out-of-town visitors. Since, as mentioned in part I, court had recently been in session and there were visitors in town, it is likely that the seven inhabitants of the destroyed home included out-of-town visitors lodging with the Bodenheimer family of three. Also, at some point in 1851, Jacob’s niece and nephew, Fanny & Lazarus Bodenheimer immigrated to Bellevue on the encouragement of Jacob, who gave Lazarus his first job. It is possible that they, too, were among that group of seven that survived the violent tornado.

We made a tour around town, and found but one dwelling house that escaped from injury. Lawson & Hervey’s livery stable was blown flat down, with several horses under the wreck. The horses were prized [pried] out of the sides and roof, and no horse was lamed or injured in any way.”

“After the tornado passed, there was not a breath of wind to be felt; the rain fell in torrents, but none of us felt the rain until after we saw all safe—saw the women wildly hugging and kissing each other, and heard mutual congratulations—and night, deep, dark and impenetrable, hid the ruins of the town from our view.”

“We have had our romantic incidents, our deeds of horror, our times of sickness, gloom and death, but our history knows of no more thrilling event than that of the 20th day of February, 1851.”

It is amazing to have such a detailed narrative of surviving the destruction of a tornado that hit without warning over a hundred and seventy years ago. What we don’t have is any scientific data from that time. The ability to record, analyze, save and compare that data, of course, is what would have allowed some prediction of the event to the folks of Bellevue. Unfortunately, it would be another one hundred years before the existence of any kind of reliable tornado forecast system.

A method of “rules” to help predict tornado forecasting were developed in 1884 (Finley’s rules from a US Army Signal Sergeant) but these rules and continued investigation gained little traction when the government forbade any reports or predictions to even use the word tornado, for fear it would cause unwarranted panic. Tornado outbreaks in Missouri, Arkansas, and Tennessee on March 21,1952, killed over 150 people and led to public outcry and Congressional pressure for the issuance of tornado forecasts. As a result, the Severe Local Storms (SELS) Center was established within the Weather Bureau in June 1953.

If you have any information, stories, or photos about natural disasters in the history of Bossier, we would love to add material to the History Center’s research collection. Please come to the History Center to see our new display about the 1978 tornado in Bossier City, or read about other events in local weather history in our collection, at 2206 Beckett St, Bossier City, LA. We are open M-Th 9-8, Fri 9-6, and Sat 9-5. Our phone number is (318) 746-7717 and our email is history-center@bossierlibrary.org

For other fun facts, photos, and videos, be sure to follow us @BPLHistoryCenter on FB, @bplhistorycenter on TikTok, and check out our blog http://bpl-hc.blogspot.com/.

A Chilling Account of the Bellevue Tornado of 1851

 In February of 1851, a tornado decimated the east-central Bossier Parish village of Bellevue and terrified its residents and visitors. This tiny community had many visitors because Bellevue, sometimes spelled “Belle Vue,” was the seat of Bossier Parish from the parish’s beginnings in 1843 until 1888, when it moved to its present location of Benton.

This tornado and its damage was so severe that papers around the Southern U.S. reported it, by sharing a story from the “Minden Herald.” The article exclaimed that this tornado “prostrated to the ground nearly every house in the place…It twisted off trees fifteen or twenty feet from the root, and swept those tops clear away,” a scene that that those present said was, “beyond the power of language to describe. “

However, an anonymous writer did soon find words to describe their harrowing experience and inscribed them in a journal. The writer made it public in the May 1, 1858 issue of “The Bossier Times.” Fortunately, on January 17, 1895, “The Bossier Banner” reprinted this vividly detailed account under the title, “A Stray Leaf from the History of Bellevue,” giving readers a vicarious experience of living through the touchdown of a tornado.

“I have an old journal in which I have noted the events in my life, and in its connection to events in the history of others. I am poring over that old book now, while sad memories are stealing over the soul…I am reading now from the page containing the events of the 20th day of February 1851.”

“The District Court had been in session, but had adjourned the day before. A few of the convivial ones, of our own parish, and several attorneys of our neighboring towns, were detained in our now quiet village—among that few, I remember poor “Hurricane” Martin, Nat Currier [who had served as clerk and deputy clerk of various courts in Bossier and the region], Judge Peets [who also presided at Claiborne Parish] and Major Terrill. The day had been a remarkably still and warm one for February, a dull mist of rain falling perpendicularly to the earth.”

The writer is referring to the fact that Bellevue, as parish seat, was the location of Bossier’s courthouse. In the mid-nineteenth century, many lawyers, judges, and clerks would have needed to take a long, arduous trip driven by horses through essential wilderness to get to court. They typically practiced in more than one parish, and were based elsewhere, such as Shreveport or Homer, and may have needed to spend the night in Bellevue. Travelers rented rooms (and stable stalls for their horses) from residents or stayed with acquaintances.

“In the evening about 1 o’clock, Nat came into my room, took a book and reclined on a bed to read away so dull an evening, but soon fell into an uneasy sleep. In fact, it was that kind of weather that makes barometers of us all. Soon a low rumbling sound was heard, like the reverberation of distant and continued thunder. Nat awoke, in a kind of instinctive alarm. ‘That tree’s falling.’ ‘No,’ I answered ‘it is distant thunder.’ He however got up, threw a cloak on and went out in the rain, but returned in a moment, with true, wild alarm in his countenance. ‘We are going to have an awful storm, hear the trees falling.’ It was hardly spoken before in bolted Fort, Fuller and Ben, like frightened animals seeking the nearest cove[r], each expressing alarm—Then came the storm in dread earnestness.

Nat and Fuller sprang to the door which remained open, and caught the facing, and clung to it like drowning men, while their feet were lifted and their bodies fluttered out nearly horizontal with their hold. The temporary arbor at the door floated off as if on a current of water. Ben bore wildly all of his strength against one of the walls, as if to hold the house up, while Fort stood ready to leap out at the first opening that might be made by the turning house. The door and drawers of my desk and document case opened sides as impulsive things of life, and the papers took wings as birds loosened from the cage. Every window broke from its bolted fastenings, the house rocked like a skiff [small boat] on the waves, and sounded as if pelted by hail stones—while the din without was almost deafening—we could scarcely distinguish each other’s faces in the darkness of the moment…But as it came in a moment, so it was gone in a moment…”

The continuation of this story will be in the next local history column. But, spoiler alert, you don’t need to worry. Miraculously, no people or horses were injured or died in this incident, even though both had to be dug from the rubble of Bellevue.

If you have any information, stories, or photos about Bellevue, we would be happy to add copies of the material to the History Center’s research collection. Please come to the History Center to learn more about Bellevue and other ‘extinct’ Bossier communities, as well as see a new display on the deadly 1978 Bossier City tornado. The History Center is adjacent to Bossier Central Library at 2206 Beckett St, Bossier City, LA. We are open M-Th 9-8, Fri 9-6, and Sat 9-5. Our phone number is (318) 746-7717 and our email is history-center@bossierlibrary.org

For other fun facts, photos, and videos, be sure to follow us @BPLHistoryCenter on FB, @bplhistorycenter on TikTok

Bossier History: Tornado Strikes Princeton in 1957

The January 24, 1957 issue of The Bossier Banner-Progress reported on a tornado that struck Princeton.

“Three persons were killed and nine injured in a tornado which struck in a farming community of Princeton Tuesday morning at 11 o’clock.”

“All of the dead were Negroes and were dead on arrival at hospitals in Shreveport.”

“The dead were Allison Law, 66, and his wife Mary Ann Law, 68, and Ruth Bradford, 6 year old Negro baby.”

“The injured hospitalized were all Negroes of Princeton.  They were Barbara Stinson, 8, fractured hip, condition serious; David Washington, 60, fractured hip, condition serious, Charles Bradford, 4, possible head injuries, condition fair; Bernice Bradford, 26, mother of the dead baby, head injuries, condition fair.”

“Eddie Brutus, 56, back injury, condition undetermined, Josephine Johnson, 64, lacerations, given emergency treatment and discharged; Gusspie Platt, 45, head laceration, not serious; Vernon Lee Woods, five, head injury, condition satisfactory.”

“J. J. Thomas, white, of Princeton, suffered minor injuries but was treated by a physician and not hospitalized.”

“The dead and injured were all rushed by ambulance to Confederate Memorial Hospital with the exception of the Woods baby, who was hospitalized at Minden, and Thomas.”

“The storm struck with fury and during a heavy downpour of rain several homes were destroyed and the twister narrowly missed the Princeton school which has 800 students in elementary and high school grades.  Had it struck this building the damage might have been enormous.”

This Louisiana State Trooper holds a kitten, the only survivor from the Law household.  Photograph courtesy of LSU-Shreveport Archives and Special Collections, Noel Memorial Library, Henry Langston McEachern collection. Please do not reproduce image without permission.