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| Maury Vincent at work in the newsroom. |
I’ve reported on
weather-related disasters including a prairie fire that threatened a town
before destroying a man's livelihood but no lives were taken.
That was not the
case for one of my Macomb Daily predecessors.
On May 8, 1964,
right around the time Maury Vincent would have been dotting his I’s and
crossing his T’s on weekend stories, a tornado touched down in Pontiac.
It killed one
woman. Then it headed east for Chesterfield Township where it took 13 more
lives and left hundreds homeless, before escaping into the clouds over Lake St.
Clair.
It was also the
end of Vincent’s weekend.
I'm only guessing
because I never had the chance to meet the award-winning journalist. Vincent
died on Oct. 5, 2011. Still, having heard the stories shared by journalists who
had the pleasure of working with him -- he worked late into the night, Friday,
Saturday and Sunday. Doing the job of reporting the news but also provide
accurate information for those who need it most.
Residents hurt by
the storm.
The biggest question
being where their missing loved ones might be found.
I am a
storyteller but I can only aspire to reach the level of a Maury Vincent, who
was assigned the difficult task of reporting the deaths in Chesterfield.
Here we are 50
years later.
Looking at a
story about the people who died handled with great accuracy and respect from
Maury Vincent’s Sunday report, "Morgue was the last stop for the
missing," on May 10, 1964:
Maury’s opening lines…
“Outside the
door, a cardboard box filled with torn and bloddy clothing stood as mute
testimony to the scene inside the room.
There, on
stretchers placed neatly in a row, lay the crumpled bodies of the tornado
victims.
This was the
morgue of Martha T. Berry Hospital Friday.
Knots of people
stood in the hallways.
Many of them had
come to inquire about missing relatives.
A husky man
walked in looking for his wife and daughter. He said his name was Joseph Soloc,
age 28 and a machine shop operator. He lived (on) Forbes, Chesterfield
Township.
A few moments
later he came out of the morgue room.
His face was
blank, jaw set.
He had found his
wife Donna Mae, 24, and daughter Wnedy Lou, 6 months.
Soloc said he was
driving home when the twister hit.
Maury shares the
words of a grieving father…
“I saw the
cloud,” he said. “I jumped out of the car and ran toward my house.
“I got to the
house and there was nothing there. It’s all gone… flattened out. I went running
through the fields looking for my family.
“Everybody was
looking.”
Nearby, he found
his two sons, Joseph, 6, and Alan, 5.
After getting
medical help for the boys and sending them off to hospitals, Soloc resumed the
search for his wife and daughter.
The morgue was
his last stop.
A man and his
wife walked in, looking for a missing daughter.
They walked out
of the morgue room, wearing the same blank expressions.
“…she just had
her hair cut,” the woman said softly.
Then she broke
into sobs.
Her husband put
his arm around her and pulled her into the elevator.
The closing doors
framed them in their silent moment of grief… two people touched by the
screeching death of a vicious tornado that screamed out of blackened skies on a
quiet Friday afternoon…
Occasionally
someone ventured a smile, but the atmosphere dispelled any attempt at
cordiality.
So you never forget…
A box of
corrugated paper, labeled “mortuary paper,” stood open beside the morgue door.
Among a cluster
of people nearby, Dr. Raymond G. Markle, a Macomb County coroner noted the
names of the dead as survivors went through the brief, but painful process of
identification.
“They’re all
women and children,” said Dr. Markle, inclining his head toward the covered
bodies.
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