Tri-State Tornado of March 18, 1925

Back in 1925, weather records were not nearly as detailed as they are today. With fewer observing stations, data was sparser and forecasts were immensely more vague. Therefore, the exact conditions that preceded the Great Tri-State Tornado are not well known. However, given what we know now about tornado development and using what records there were from 1925, we can surmise that March 18, 1925 undoubtedly would have been a candidate for a moderate or high risk of severe weather!

That morning, surface low pressure over northwest Arkansas and southwest Missouri tracked northeast across southeast Missouri, southern Illinois, and southwest Indiana during the day, reaching eastern Indiana that evening. A warm front extended east from the low, with a cold front trailing to the southwest. As the low tracked northeast during the day, its associated warm front advanced northward, allowing warm moist Gulf air to infiltrate the Tri-State area. In fact, temperatures that started out in the 50s during the morning reached the 60s over most of the tornado track by 1 p.m. and even the 70s in the vicinity of Cairo, Illinois by 4 p.m. So, we know that a lifting mechanism was in place and moisture was abundant with the Gulf opened for business.

We can also infer the presence of very good upper level support. Given the fact that the tornado traveled at speeds of 60 to 70 mph along most of its path, we can safely assume that perhaps a 100-knot upper-level jet max was nosing into the area from the west/southwest. With veering winds (south at the surface becoming west/southwest aloft), wind shear was also present to help initiate the storm’s rotation. Some degree of surface-based instability would have also been present—with warm air advection in the lower levels and cold air advection in the upper levels.

What makes this tornado interesting, though, is that its occurrence was nearly coincidental with the track of the surface low--at least initially. While other tornadoes in the warm sector of the low affected parts of mainly Tennessee and Kentucky that day, none were as massive, long lasting, or violent as the Tri-State Tornado. This goes against conventional thinking that while it is not uncommon for a tornado to occur in conjunction with the surface low, the most violent ones tend to occur in the warm sector of the storm—well south and east of the low’s track.

Scientists have long pondered whether the Tri-State tornado was actually ONE tornado or a family of tornadoes. Findings from modern weather records and research suggest that a tornado with a track as long as the Tri-State Tornado usually results from a cyclical supercell rather than one massive storm. In this theory, the storm continuously evolves, and the decay of one supercell leads to the development of another—and so forth. Each supercell may be responsible for parenting one or more tornadoes. Without a close examination of the storm and its damage path, it can appear to the "novice" observer that the damage resulted from ONE tornado, when in reality, a family of tornadoes generated by a cyclical supercell caused the destruction.

The only problem with applying this theory to the Tri-State Tornado is that a cyclical supercell tends to exhibit breaks in its damage path as the storm evolves. However, the Tri-State Tornado’s path of destruction was CONTINUOUS for much of its lifetime. Only near the onset and demise of the storm's path did breaks in the tornado's damage suggest the event may have been not one—but a family of tornadoes. Many years ago, we posed the questions: If the Tri-State Tornado was one massive storm, then why hasn’t such a storm been documented in the decades proceeding its occurrence? Could it be that the 1925 tornado was a rare event—occurring only once in several hundred years? Did it actually result from a cyclical supercell? Or could it be that we lack enough information to come to a definitive conclusion at this time? Despite all the uncertainties surrounding the 1925 Tri-State Tornado, one thing is for certain—a storm like it will happen again. The only question is: when and where?

Research conducted in the early 2000s has helped to shed light on these very questions as a group of renowned scientists and researchers in the meteorological community set out to reanalyze the tornado's damage path. Collectively, they spent hours, days, months, and even years painstakingly combing through historical archives, newspapers, photographs, and first-hand accounts from remaining survivors of the now infamous storm. While their conclusions couldn't be attained with 100% certainty, they found with high confidence that most of the tornado's fury was likely associated with one long-lived supercell. However, breaks in the damage were found near the beginning and end of the tornado's track. While this could indicate the storm indeed cycled for part of its track, it's also plausible that the lack of damage was due in part to the tornado's track through very rural country. And if there were any doubts as to when and where a storm like this would ever occur again, we got our answer on December 10, 2021, as a massive high-end EF-4 tornado tore a path of destruction through several towns across western and central Kentucky.

For thousands of residents in Southeast Missouri, Southern Illinois, and Southwest Indiana, the days following March 18, 1925 must have been horrendous. Hundreds of lives had been taken and thousands were injured or left homeless. With so many fatalities, so many injuries, so much destruction, and so many lives torn apart, it was now time to clean up the mess that nature had left behind. But this was much easier said than done—for it would take months to rebuild what had been demolished in less than 4 hours. Let’s take a brief look at what happened years ago, on that dreadful day of the Great Tri-State Tornado.

It all started around 1:00 p.m. just northwest of Ellington, Missouri, where one farmer was killed. From there, the tornado raced to the northeast, killing two people and inflicting $500,000 in damage upon Annapolis and the mining town of Leadanna. Departing the Ozarks, the storm headed across the farmland of Bollinger County, injuring 32 children in two county schools. By the time the tornado reached the Mississippi River bordering Perry County, eleven Missourians had perished.

The devastation mounted in southern Illinois, as the entire town of Gorham was demolished around 2:30 p.m. There, 34 people lost their lives. During the next 40 minutes, 541 people were killed and 1,423 were seriously injured as the tornado tore a path of destruction nearly one mile wide through the towns of Murphysboro, De Soto, Hurst-Bush, and West Frankfort. In eastern Franklin County, 22 people died as the town of Parrish was virtually wiped off the map. The tornado proceeded unabated across rural farmland of Hamilton and White Counties, where the death toll reached 65.

After taking the lives of more than 600 Illinoisans, the storm surged across the Wabash River, demolishing the entire community of Griffin, Indiana. Next in line were the rural areas just northwest of Owensville, where about 85 farms were devastated. As the storm ripped across Princeton, about half the town was destroyed, with damage here estimated at $1.8 million. Fortunately, the twister dissipated about ten miles northeast of Princeton, sparing the community of Petersburg in Pike County. In the aftermath, the death toll mounted to 695 people—at least 71 of those were in Southwest Indiana. Property damage totaled $16.5 million—nearly 2/3 of that was in Murphysboro alone.

Precisely where and when the Tri-State Tornado started and ended is somewhat unclear. The reanalysis project undertaken in the early 2000s concluded the supercell that produced the Tri-State Tornado caused damage across a path that spanned some 235 miles. The findings from this project revealed the start of damage as far west as eastern Shannon County, Missouri, between the communities of Eminence and Ellington, while the end of the damage reached as far east as a few miles south of Petersburg, Indiana. However, substantial breaks in the damage path towards the beginning and end of the tornado track call into question whether the tornado was indeed on the ground for the entire duration. The main area of uncertainty spans from the initial point of touchdown to as far east as central Madison County, Missouri. Findings from the reanalysis project also suggest the tornado may have dissipated in southwest Indiana a little sooner than previously reported, with the damage south of Petersburg, Indiana caused by a separate tornado associated with the same supercell.

As the reanalysis project researchers concluded, "even though we were unable to say conclusively if there were real gaps along the center part of the 1925 Tri-State damage path, two were apparent near both ends. Omitting the beginning and ending path segments, the Tri-State Tornado started in either far western Reynolds County or in extreme southeastern Shannon County, MO, and ended in western Pike County, IN, having a possible path length of at least 352 km (219 mi)." They went on to conclude that of the more than 219 miles of damage, the 174-mile segment from central Madison County, MO to western Pike County, IN was likely continuous, while the 151-mile segment from central Bollinger County, MO to western Pike County, IN was the most likely to have been continuous.

Have you ever wondered how various National Weather Service severe weather products may have looked if today's weather warning system had existed back in 1925?  Well if you have, the information on this page will attempt to give you an idea as to how today's meteorologists might have forecasted the 1925 Tri-State Tornado from the vantage points of both the Storm Prediction Center and the local Weather Forecast Offices.  Keep in mind that the products shown on this page are only hypothetical examples.

Early in the morning of March 18, 1925, the Storm Prediction Center (SPC) in Norman, Oklahoma would have issued a Day 1 Outlook, which is a risk assessment of the potential for severe thunderstorms and tornadoes valid for a 24-hour period from the morning of March 18 through the morning of March 19.   The image to the right is the hypothetical Day 1 Outlook, which depicts a high risk for severe weather over portions of Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, Kentucky, and Tennessee.  

As the morning progressed, the Storm Prediction Center would have closely monitored the Lower Ohio and Middle Mississippi River Valley region for the potential issuance of a Tornado or Severe Thunderstorm Watch.  By late morning, SPC would have likely issued a Tornado Watch for portions of Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, and Kentucky.  This hypothetical watch box is depicted in the graphic to the left. It's likely this watch would have been a PDS watch, which stands for "particularly dangerous situation." That's reserved for tornado watches in weather conditions that are most supportive of the formation of significant, long-track tornadoes.

After the issuance of the Tornado Watch, the local Weather Forecast Offices (WFO's) would have been responsible for issuing Tornado, Severe Thunderstorm, and/or Flash Flood Warnings based on information gleaned from radar and satellite images, current observations, computer model data, and storm spotters.  With the enormous size and intense nature of the Tri-State Tornado, it is likely that all warnings issued on that particular storm would have been Tornado Warnings.  Because the storm moved at speeds of 60 to 70 mph over much of its path, the Tornado Warnings probably would have included portions of several counties in order to provide more warning to those communities downstream. In addition, it's likely that most of the warnings would have been upgraded with a "considerable" or "catastrophic" tag given the intensity of the storm on radar and subsequent damage reported into the office.

Below are several hypothetical warnings that may have been issued by the WFO's in St. Louis, Missouri, and Paducah, Kentucky. From what we know now, it's likely that the first warning for the supercell that went on to produce the Tri-State Tornado would have been issued by WFO Springfield, Missouri for a portion of Shannon County in the eastern part of their forecast area.

While the information contained on this page is only hypothetical, it clearly demonstrates how much the watch/warning system has advanced since 1925.  Because of the advanced technology and communications system in place today, it is highly unlikely that nearly 700 lives would be taken, even by a storm of this magnitude.  Keep in mind, however, that even today's warning system does little good if the public fails to heed the warning's message to take shelter. 

Credit to Dan McCarthy, former WCM of the Storm Prediction Center, for providing the hypothetical Day 1 Outlook and Tornado Watch maps.

On March 18, 1925, the Great Tri-State Tornado tore across southeast Missouri, southern Illinois, and southwest Indiana. With its rapid movement, monstrous size, and long track, the tornado took hundreds of lives and injured thousands. By all means, the Tri-State Tornado was a rare event—an event that few people will ever experience in their lifetime. To give you some idea of this tornado’s magnitude, this section is devoted to a list of incredible statistics on the tornado.

• 3 states affected (Missouri, Illinois, Indiana)

• 13 counties affected, including:

Missouri: Reynolds, Iron, Madison, Bollinger, Perry Illinois: Jackson, Williamson, Franklin, Hamilton, White Indiana: Posey, Gibson, Pike

• 19+ communities affected, including:

Missouri: Ellington, Redford, Leadanna, Annapolis, Cornwall, Biehle, Frohna Illinois: Gorham, Murphysboro, De Soto, Hurst-Bush, Zeigler, West Frankfort, Eighteen, Parrish, Crossville Indiana: Griffin, Owensville, Princeton

• 219 mile path length

• 3/4 mile average path width (some accounts of over 1 mile wide)

• 3 1/2 hours of continuous devastation

• 1:01 p.m.—tornado touched down 3 miles NNW of Ellington, Missouri

• 4:30 p.m.—tornado dissipated about 3 miles SW of Petersburg, Indiana

• N 69° E heading maintained for 183 of the 219 miles

• 62 mph average speed

• 73 mph record speed between Gorham & Murphysboro

• F5 tornado on the Fujita Scale, with winds in excess of 200 mph

• 28.87" lowest pressure measured on a barograph trace at the Old Ben Coal Mine in West Frankfort, Illinois

• 695 deaths—a record for a single tornado

• 234 deaths in Murphysboro—a record for a single community from such a disaster

• 33 deaths at the De Soto school—a record for such a storm (only bombings and gas explosions have taken higher school tolls)

• 2,027 injuries

• 15,000 homes destroyed

The table below shows the ten deadliest tornadoes in U.S. history.  Not only is the 1925 Tri-State Tornado the deadliest of all time, it also holds the record for the longest path length in history as well.  This information was derived from the book Significant Tornadoes by Thomas P. Grazulis, which has a plethora of information on tornadoes dating back centuries.

On Thursday, December 30, 1999, NWS Meteorologist Ryan Presley sat down with his grandmother, Ms. Lela Hartman, to discuss her experience with the Tri-State Tornado. Even though Ms. Hartman resided in Benton, Illinois for her entire life, she happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time on the afternoon of March 18, 1925. At that time, she was visiting her grandmother’s farm, located about three miles west of West Frankfort, Illinois (just south of Plumfield). She had just turned four, so she could not remember every single detail about the tornado. However, there were certain details about this event that were substantial enough to leave a lasting impression—even from a child’s perspective. Following is her account of the 1925 Tri-State Tornado. Portions have been edited to enhance readability.

PRESLEY - "How young were you when the tornado hit in 1925?"

HARTMAN - "Well, my birthday was March 3 ^rd , and I had turned 4. So, I was quite young when that happened, but I remember it—well. I remember it."

PRESLEY - "Where were you when the tornado hit?"

HARTMAN - "Well, I was at my Grandmother Lipsey’s house in, well I guess they call it Plumfield. I don’t really call it that because you turn off of [149] on Freeman Spur Road, and go to the first road that goes back east. And you go about a tenth of a mile and that’s where the farm was located. We were just at the edge, I would say, of the winds that were going through."

PRESLEY - "And when the tornado hit, you were visiting your [grandmother’s] farm at the time…?"

HARTMAN - "Yeah, my grandfather had died a couple of years earlier. We had gone there to spend the day with Grandma, and it was a pretty day. You know, being a little kid, I didn’t pay too much attention to the weather, but as the day went on, it started lookin’ like rain, and cloudin’ up, and gettin’ dark, and after a while, my dad said, ‘You know, we’d better go to the cellar!’ And my grandma, no way was she gonna go. And it just kept gettin’ darker and darker, and by the time she finally agreed to go, well it was almost as black as night when we finally went to the cellar. And I think we just got there in time because we could hear things that you didn’t hear in an ordinary storm. And when we were ready to come out my dad was a real young man then … and was strong, and he couldn’t get the door open. So he worked and worked and worked, and after a while, he got it open enough he could get out. And there was a tree that had blown across the cellar door."

"So I remember, when I came out, the first thing I saw was, by the back steps, there was a long shuttle for a sewing machine, and it had black thread in it. Of course, I didn’t know what it was and I had to ask my mom what it was, and she was the one who told me. And we had a Model-T Ford that was practically new. My dad’s parents had bought it for him in—I don’t know—it must have been about 1920. And he always parked it in the barn that my grandpa had there, that he kept his horses and … plows and stuff like that to farm with. He always parked his car in there, and it was about 200 feet east of the house. And when I came out, that car was settin’ facin’ the north, up near the fence that divided the yard and the barn lot. And it didn’t have a top on it. The top was gone. And on the west side was the fence that divided the two lots, and on the other side was a huge oak tree that looked like somebody had just taken an axe and cut through that tree. There was also one behind it that was the same way. There was one a little farther south. It didn’t touch it, so that’s the reason we figured we were right on the edge. It also turned the house on the foundation. That was a big, big ol’ house, and it turned it on the foundation. So, that was about the extent of my involvement in that tornado. Of course, for years and years, we called it a cyclone. We didn’t call it a tornado."

PRESLEY - "Now, that really stood out in your memory, didn’t it? With the top being gone from the Model-T Ford and the house being turned on the foundation?"

HARTMAN - "That was a—it was a nice car. It had four doors, and it had the isinglass that you’d put up in the wintertime to keep the cold out. And to come out and see that (chuckling), when it was parked it was facin’ the east, and when we came out it was facin’ the north, and had no top on it. And you wondered, not even one little splinter of wood was left of that building where it had been. And you had to wonder how that happened. Unless the wind picked that car up and just swirled it around and just set it down there. You had to wonder."

PRESLEY - "That’s amazing. Probably something to do with the rotation of the tornado."

HARTMAN - "Right, right. That’s just like, apparently, it caught the corner of that house as it was goin’ east and just turned it on the foundation."

PRESLEY - "Now, you had mentioned something about—in earlier conversations—a scarf?"

HARTMAN - "Oh yeah! We also found a scarf that had a big basket of flowers that somebody had embroidered—spent lots of time embroidering that. We had no idea where that came from. It could’ve come from as far away as Murphysboro. Who knows? Because that’s the way that was travelin’, and so my mom used that for many a year. It was always a reminder of where it came from."

PRESLEY - "That’s amazing though … because there were a lot of tales about different objects that were thrown 50 or 60 miles from where they actually came from."

HARTMAN - "But what really, really amazed me was the fact that something had picked that car up, took the top off of it, brought it up there closer to the house, and set it right there between the fence and that huge oak tree. That other oak tree that it didn’t get, it lived for years and years. We sawed that down just a few years back, and cleared that lot. But other than that, that’s about all I remember. We didn’t know how it had affected Benton. So we didn’t know what to expect when we got here. All I remember about that is that we had a young apple tree in the yard, and it was blown over. So there must have been a little wind here, you know?"

PRESLEY - "How did you get back home? What was the trip like back home?"

HARTMAN - "Well, ... I don’t remember. I do not remember that at all."

PRESLEY - "But all you had was a little apple tree that had been blown over here."

HARTMAN - "But my dad, ... a lot of people would’ve thought that ... would scare you to death of anything like that. But my dad—the minute we came home—the first thing he did was build a storm cellar. And every time a wind came up and we had one lightning strike and a thunder, he got us kids up—it didn’t matter if it was two or three o’clock in the morning—and to the cellar we went. And we did that for two or three years ‘til no storm scared us. We wanted to sleep. And right today, I’m not afraid of storms. Some people are scared to death. I don’t run and hide. I figure that so be it, you know, if you’re goin’ that way anyway, (pointing upward) it don’t matter how you go. If the wind wants to take ya, let it take ya!"

PRESLEY - "You didn’t have any friends or family that actually lost their lives in that tornado, did you?"

HARTMAN - "No, no, lucky. We were lucky."

PRESLEY - "One question that I wanted to ask you, too, is that, of course, things have come a long way since 1925 … with technology, radar, satellite imagery, the warnings that you see scrolling across the screen today. What do you think about all that?"

HARTMAN - "Oh I think it’s great!"

PRESLEY - "It is, isn’t it?"

HARTMAN - "Oh yeah, I think it’s great. I—I’m amazed that people are that smart, puttin’ up with all this, you know? [Of] course, that’s in everything. It’s not just in weather. We have got smart people ... on this earth, and they’ve brought us a long way in medicine and weather and—. It’s too bad that we don’t have a turnkey where, when we see somethin’ like this happenin’, we can just shut it off, you know? Maybe one of these days, somebody will come up with one."

PRESLEY - "That’s true, and that would be very interesting wouldn’t it?"

HARTMAN - "Yeah. Where you could turn the winds in another direction, or calm ‘em down, or something."

PRESLEY - "But there’s a lot to be said for research and development when it comes to that."

HARTMAN - "Oh yeah. They’ve gone a long way."

PRESLEY - "They have, and we still have a—especially in meteorology and in some other sciences—they still have a long way to go, but—"

HARTMAN - "But they’ve gone a long way. … ‘Cause they didn’t have that kinda thing ... back when this—well, I still want to call it a cyclone, but I guess I’ll call it a tornado—happened. We didn’t have—you were your weather forecaster. You watched the sky."

PRESLEY - "This one was kind of … interesting, though, because it actually caught a lot of even farmers by surprise because it was so unusual."

HARTMAN - "Well, it was. … It was such a pretty day that day. ... And for March, that was a little bit unusual in itself. But then, after noon, when it began to turn dark and—. You know, I can’t remember that it lightninged and thundered, but it’s bound to have. All I remember is how dark it kept gettin’, and the wind, you know? And, and I, even I, then was scared. I wanted to go to the cellar. But there wasn’t a one of us would go until Grandma would go. And she wasn’t about to go. But she finally, she finally did. I think she finally decided that something was about to give."

PRESLEY - "She had probably been through so many storms, that she was just gonna stand out there and ride it out. But there’s something about this one that told her that—"

HARTMAN - "She’d better—"

PRESLEY - "She’d better take shelter."

HARTMAN - "She’d better go. Yes."

PRESLEY – "Well, is there anything else that you’d like to add?"

HARTMAN - "Well, not really. Just that I hope we don’t ever have another one."

PRESLEY - "Aw, I hope not, but it’s inevitable. Someday we will."

HARTMAN - "Well, probably. But with all the technology that you guys have, maybe it won’t, you know? Maybe there’ll be something that you’ll have control, you know?"

PRESLEY - "Well, if it ever happens again, especially something that huge, we probably would have warnings out for it. But we couldn’t guarantee that the life loss wouldn’t be as great, especially if it went through a highly populated area."

HARTMAN - "Well, right, right."

The Hartman family sold the farm around 1970. However, on the afternoon of December 30, 1999, Ms. Hartman finally had the opportunity to visit the shelter that likely saved her life some 75 years earlier. She passed on August 2, 2003 at the age of 82.

The legacy of the Tri-State Tornado remains with us today, primarily in printed material, such as books, newspapers, and personal journals.  Here, we’ll take a look at some interesting quotes derived from The Tri-State Tornado: The Story of America’s Greatest Tornado Disaster, a book written by Peter S. Felknor.

• From the St. Louis Post-Dispatch newspaper dated March 20, 1925:

"All morning, before the tornado, it had rained. The day was dark and gloomy. The air was heavy. There was no wind. Then the drizzle increased. The heavens seemed to open, pouring down a flood. The day grew black…Then the air was filled with 10,000 things. Boards, poles, cans, garments, stoves, whole sides of the little frame houses, in some cases the houses themselves, were picked up and smashed to earth. And living beings, too. A baby was blown from its mother’s arms. A cow, picked up by the wind, was hurled into the village restaurant."

• In the same newspaper, a Gorham schoolgirl tells of her experience as the tornado wreaked havoc at the Gorham school:

"Then the wind struck the school. The walls seemed to fall in, all around us. Then the floor at one end of the building gave way. We all slipped or slid in that direction. If it hadn’t been for the seats it would have been like sliding down a cellar door.I can’t tell you what happened then. I can’t describe it. I can’t bear to think about it. Children all around me were cut and bleeding. They cried and screamed. It was something awful. I had to close my eyes…"

• Eugene Porter was living in Murphysboro when the storm hit:

"It was so wide … usually you think about a tornado, it has a funnel, and it may be a block or two or three blocks wide. But something about a mile wide, well it just—"

• Also from the March 20 edition of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, a description of the horrible aftermath:

 "Scenes of suffering and horror marked the storm and fire. Throughout the night relief workers and ambulances endeavored to make their way through the streets strewn with wreckage, fallen telegraph poles and wires and burning embers. The only light afforded was that of the burning area…"

• In The Tri-State Tornado, Mr. Felknor describes the scene that survivors confronted in the Southwest Indiana town of Griffin:

"When the cloud, bloated with debris and tons of river mud, had passed over a slight rise of land to the east of the village, it left behind a landscape that passed beyond the bounds of despair into unreality. The handful of unscathed citizens from Griffin and surrounding districts were confronted with destruction so complete that some could only guess where they had once lived. The search for family and friends had a special hellishness, as fires flickered over the ruins and the injured wandered about in a daze, mud so thoroughly embedded in their skin that identification was all but impossible."

Given what we now know about March 18, 1925, it’s interesting to reflect on the U.S. Weather Bureau’s forecast from that morning, which called for "rains and strong shifting winds".  What unfolded later that day would undoubtedly prove that to be a huge understatement.