At the home of Patrick Hynes, a party in celebration of his eighty-first birthday was in progress. The guests had just begun dinner and were drinking a toast to the health of their host when the storm swept the house away. All the party succeeded in getting out with minor injuries, except a grandchild, who was internally injured. "The party had just begun dinner," said Mr. Hynes. "The young people were making merry and, old as I am, I had entered into the spirit. Suddenly there was a roaring sound. The next minute the house was in ruins. I wiggled around and out and aided the others in escaping." FAMILY MEET DEATH TOGETHER Cliff Daniels, his wife and their two children met death together. When soldiers, digging about the ruins of their home, found the four bodies, the two little girls were clasped in the arms of their mother, while the body of the father was over them, as if he had tried to shield them with his own body. When C. Saber discovered the crushed and almost unrecognizable body of his wife he fled down the street shrieking at the top of his voice. E. H. Smith, a private of the Signal Corps from Fort Omaha, became insane after helping carry several bodies, and collapsed. When he had regained consciousness it was necessary to take him to the post hospital, where he was placed under restraint. A. L. Green was on his back porch watching the storm when it broke. He said: "It came like a rushing and roaring torrent of water and passed right by us to the east. I went to my attic window immediately afterward and saw fires bursting forth from houses along the path of the storm. I could see five fires burning at once. The flames made a ghastly sight as they illuminated acres of razed buildings nearby." FREAK TRAGEDIES Among the freak tragedies of the tornado none is more remarkable than that at the Idlewild pool hall, Twenty-fourth and Lake Streets. Twenty-five negroes were killed. The story is told by the single survivor, John Brown, who was dug from the wreckage twelve hours after the demolition of the building. "Eight men were playing pool at one table," Brown says. "The rest of us were standing about watching. Without a moment's warning a terrific roar swept down through the room. The roof suddenly was lifted from above. The pool table shot straight upward, many feet into the air. "All of us still were unhurt." Insane with fear, but wondering, the negroes rushed beneath the open roof and gazed upward. Then the heavy pool table and pieces of the roof shot down. All were caught. Brown was dug from the wreckage twelve hours later, uninjured. HOUSE SPLIT ASUNDER Huddled with his family in the basement of his home at 3229 Cuming Street, Prof. E. W. Hunt saw the house split asunder. When he recovered consciousness beneath the wreckage he discovered that a last summer straw hat was cocked on the back of his head. It had been hanging in a bedroom closet three stories above before the tornado struck the house.