1997 Cedar Park Tornado

1997 Cedar Park Tornado

Written by Kara Vaught Friday, 15 August 2008

Twenty-two tornadoes touched down in Central Texas on May 27, 1997. That day, the town of Jarrell was hit by an F5 tornado — the rating assigned only to the most powerful of twisters. Cedar Park was visited by a less powerful, but still severe, F3 tornado.

The National Weather Service reported the Cedar Park twister began about 4 p.m. more than 3 miles north of the city, just south of CR 178 and east of the intersection of US 183 and CR 178.

Moving to the southwest rather than the more conventional northeast paths of Texas twisters, the tornado left the open area where it began and moved toward the intersection of US 183 and RM 1431. In what is now the Rail Yard shopping center, a 65,000-pound Hill Country Flyer train car loaded with 1,000 gallons of diesel was lifted, flipped and thrown from the track.

The tornado collapsed a portion of Albertsons’ roof, drawing a line down the middle of the grocery store on the southeast corner of US 183 and RM 1431, now an Office Depot. Shoppers were ushered into a cooler by Larry Fore, a store manager who was later awarded a Public Service Award and Letter of Commendation from the National Weather Service for his quick thinking.

Fore watched the tornado develop from the store’s parking lot, then went inside and instructed an employee to make an announcement asking shoppers to gather in the center of the store so he could lead them to the cooler. He asked that no one attempt to flee the storm.

“Although the store’s wide-span roof collapsed into the center of the store, the customers survived in the cooler with only a few minor injuries,” the weather service reported. “The actions of the store manager saved many from certain serious injury and possibly death.”

Fore told weather service officials he knew tornado safety from growing up in Wichita Falls and riding out a 1979 tornado that killed more than 40 people, many of whom were trying to outrun the storm in their cars.

Awards were also given to John I. Sneed, Williamson County emergency management coordinator, and Dale Fuller, city of Cedar Park emergency management coordinator, for their roles in alerting residents to the approaching hazard.

From Albertsons, the tornado moved into the Buttercup Creek subdivision. At this point, the National Weather Service estimated the tornado ranged from an F0 to F2 level. Eleven homes were damaged before the funnel moved southwest and struck a wooded area in Travis County, ending 1.1 miles from Lake Travis.

By the time it dissipated, the twister had carved a 250-yard, 9.2-mile long path of damage. Storms continued to do damage to surrounding towns throughout the evening. An F4 tornado hit Lakeway just before 5 p.m., destroying 15 homes and damaging 14 others.

Tornado witnesses reported to the National Weather Service that the progress of the May 27, 1997 storms was the reverse of what is considered normal: The tornadoes came first, followed by hail and heavy rain.

Sources: National Weather Service Assessment of The Central Texas Tornadoes of May 27, 1997; Aerial Damage Survey of the Central Texas Tornadoes of May 27, 1997, National Weather Service; The Jarrell/Cedar Park and Pedernales Valley Tornadoes, National Weather Service

Eyewitness account

by Claire Love

I never get tired of telling the story of where I was when the tornado hit Cedar Park in 1997. I like to consider myself a good storyteller — I can throw in a line or two of not-so-accurate details to embellish a not-so-interesting tale — but the recount of this event needs no exaggerating.

It was the summer after my freshman year of college. It was an uncharacteristically humid day. So hot and humid, in fact, that I convinced my sister to ride into town with me for an icy treat. As we sat at the stoplight at New Hope Drive and US 183, a friend of mine caught my attention as he passed through the intersection honking his horn wildly and pointing toward the sky. This wasn’t necessarily uncharacteristic behavior, so I disregarded his attempt at a weather alert and continued on my way.

Shortly thereafter, we sat in the Sonic parking lot at US 183 and Park Street waiting for our ice cream when an employee of a nearby bank came rushing out the back door.

“Come get in the vault,” he shouted as he crouched down, pointing upward through the trees. “There’s a tornado coming!”

I’m not sure if it was the adrenaline junkie in me or just a lack of common sense, but I ignored his warning and hurried back toward my house. We could see the ominous funnel cloud to the northeast when a red light stopped us at the intersection of RM 1431 and US 183. I knew the tornado was close, but wasn’t sure of its exact location. All I knew was that we were in potential danger and I felt like a sitting duck as I tapped the floorboard anxiously with my heel waiting for the light to turn green. Not able to stand it anymore, I made a rushed and, in hindsight, poor decision to make a right turn onto RM 1431.

We weren’t able to make it far when we were stopped at another red light between the H-E-B and Albertsons. We could see the tornado approaching what is now the Rail Yard shopping center.

“Go, go, go!” my sister insisted. I accelerated through the red light and watched as a train car was picked up by the tornado and flipped through the air like a toy in the hands of a reckless toddler.

Ahead, a police officer had stopped traffic and was signaling me to pull over, but there was no convincing me. The tornado was close enough that it sucked the change on my dash out the window.

“Keep an eye on it,” I told my sister as we continued east. She watched as it crossed over RM 1431, tore fiercely through the roof of the Albertsons and continued on its destructive path.

As far as “close calls” are concerned, this goes down as one of the closest, and we were fortunate to make it through without injury. To this day, I get an uneasy feeling on humid days, and when I hear a tornado warning on the television, I’m in the bathtub with a mattress over my head quicker than you can say “Fujita Scale.” If all goes well, this will be the only “tornado tale” in my book of stories.