This eight-page section hit the streets at 6 a.m., June 9, 1953, about nine and a half hours after the twister struck, according to Colin J. McDonald, who worked on the ‘extra.’

‘What was the awful roar?’

Newsroom sprang into action
to cover devastating ’53 twister

The Beecher tornado of June 8, 1953, killed 116, injured more than 900 and demolished 307 homes. It also put our newsroom to the test. Longtime Journal newsman Colin J. “Mac” McDonald, who died in 1992, recalled the night of devastation for Journal readers in 1976. The following is from his account.

I was the only member of the news staff in the newsroom. . The police radio carried a warning that a tornado had been sighted near Monroe and Milford and was headed for Flint. I went to the roof with Orval Weaver, a maintenance man, for a look at the sky.

Colin J. McDonald 1973 photo

In the southwest, there were only fleecy, harmless-looking clouds. But in the northwest a black-yellow-green cloud bank was being cut by the most sinister-looking lightning I had ever seen. Narrow, towering black clouds were forming as I returned to the newsroom.

Soon after 8:30 the city desk phone rang and a woman asked “What was the awful roar north of Pierson Road?”

She was told of the tornado warning.

A man called: “What a roar — like 20 freight trains!”

Weaver, who had stayed on the roof, ran in.

“It’s struck — a big twister!” he shouted, pointing to the northwest.

In a couple of minutes the Flint police radio issued this order:

“All cars go into the area north of Pierson Road.”

The telephone rang constantly.

Why was the water cut off? Why all the sirens? Why were people arriving at Hurley Hospital not only in ambulances but in police cars, private cars and even in trucks?

I first called Ralph B. Curry, the city editor. Then I began calling reporters and photographers to get them into the stricken area. Soon Curry and Editor Michael Gorman were in the office, and later Harold F. Diehm, the news editor.

Police reporter Joseph W. Wagar went to the state police post. Communication from the tornado area was difficult and it took some time to get an idea of the immensity of the disaster. Wagar’s reports became more and more ominous: The hospitals were swamped. The Hurley morgue was filling up.

Then, finally, came the information that led to the decision to publish an extra: State police had reported at least 100 dead.

It was decided to publish in the morning with photos, lists of victims, descriptive articles and all the detail we could muster. By the time the work was fully under way, 31 of the 44 members of the editorial staff were involved.

Artist Kenneth Dolan, who lived five blocks south of Coldwater Road, had seen the great black cloud that swept close to the ground and heard the roar. He took a quick look at the scenes of devastation and then headed for the office. He drew a map that spread across the bottom of the front page.

There were unaccustomed assignments for some staffers: Len Hoyes, a sports writer, worked at the makeshift morgue at the National Guard Armory. Like the other reporters, he was a World War II veteran, but he and the others were deeply affected by what they saw.

Richard B. Childs, an assistant regional editor, and three full-time photographers produced an array of pictures so outstanding The Journal was voted to win the annual photo award of the Associated Press Managing Editors’ Association.

For hours that night, a technician hurriedly sent from Detroit by the AP sent pictures from The Journal on the AP wirephoto network. Journal photos made front pages all over the country.

A former newsman, who helped in the office that night and for days afterward, commented in an article for Editor and Publisher magazine:

“In the face of such a total devastation, The Flint Journal provided news coverage which, in retrospect, seems impossible.”

The last page of The Journal’s extra carried only a boxed appeal, written by the editor, that ended with this paragraph:

“A relatively small area suffered the entire impact of a horrible disaster. Those of us who were spared are left with a great responsibility to the less fortunate. It has to be fully and generously met.”

The eight-page extra came off the presses at 6 a.m., June 9, 1953, about nine and a half hours after the twister struck.