This article was published in Fall Baseball Research Journal. On the morning of May 11, , the fair citizens of Waco, Texas woke up to a muggy day. Many prepared themselves for the beginning of the work week by downing their daily cup of coffee and reading the latest edition of the Waco TribuneβHerald. Sprawled across the front page were reports of intense tornadoes in Minnesota, and the possibility of strong winds and rain in their own area.
Native American Indian legends, attributed to the local Huaco tribe, prophesied that the bend in the Brazos River where Waco resided would never be touched by a twister, and so few, if any, Wacoans showed concern about such calamities. As the day wore on, and the skies grew increasingly foreboding, thoughts of canceling the game grew in the minds of the Pirates brain trust. At pm, southwest of Waco near the town of Lorena, an unexpected and terrible F-5 tornado, approximately one-third of a mile wide, touched down and began to cut a north-northeast path.
By the skies above Waco were so dark residents reported it was like night. Baseball-sized hail and steady rains began to pelt the downtown area. By the funnel cloud was on course for the center of town, wreaking havoc as it passed through the business district, toppling buildings and tossing vehicles around like Tonka toys.
Inside Katy Park, Chatham and Berger realized the gravity of their situation and ran for their lives, taking cover under the very same train that had been a thorn in the side of Chatham. The locomotive would ultimately shield them both from the devilish whirlwind.
Their beloved ballpark would not share the same fate. Many of the survivors were buried under collapsed structures and waited up to 14 hours to be rescued. It was the deadliest twister in Texas since and one of the worst in US history.
