By Sonya Bernard-Hollins
Publisher-Season Press
Frightened in the Basement of the Civic Theatre
KALAMAZOO (MICH.)– My brother Walter (Bernard) and I rarely did anything together. While he was a year behind me in age and grade, he felt he was the big brother who could boss me around. However, I won out in one instance. I really wanted to be in the cast of the Jr. Civic Theatre production, “Free to Be You and Me.” The only catch was, my mother said I couldn’t do it without him. What! He hated plays, so I just knew he wouldn’t want to be in one.
I bribed him with candy money and that I would do his dishes until the play was over. He was in! After the auditions, we both made it. Considering there were only five other African American students who auditioned, we played the roles of friends in play’s skit, “Three Wishes,” along with other minor parts in the musical. Each day for a few weeks, we walked from Lincoln Elementary School to the Civic Theatre for practice. One bright, beautiful May afternoon, my brother decided he wanted to stop in McDonald’s, which was then located in what is now the Radisson Plaza (where Burdick’s restaurant currently is located.) He saw a man with what he thought was the coolest motorcycle ever. After we bought our ice cream cone he spoke to the motorcycle owner for a bit, before we moved through Bronson Park to the rehearsal entrance of the Civic on Park Street.
As we doddled toward the theater, we noticed cars seemed to be in a hurry. But, we didn’t think too much of it. Once we were inside the Civic, we were met by adults who were rushing our fellow thespians into the basement. “Hurry, let’s go,” they said. We didn’t realize the seriousness of what was going on until we saw one of the girls start to cry. Her face was beet red.
“It will be okay, it may just be a warning. We will be fine,” the director said. Then we heard, “A tornado, cool!” from one of the other boys in the cast.
What! My brother and I looked at each other in fear.
As we rushed into the basement and past the costume shop, we were instructed to sit along the wall. We were technically under the stage where adults felt was the safest spot. Soon, lights flickered. Friends held one another tighter. You could hear a pin drop as hearts raced. Suddenly, we heard something moving on the stage above us. Then it stopped. After what seemed like hours, (but was only about 15 minutes) we were led back up the steps and outside. Immediately we saw a gigantic tree that had flown from Bronson Park across the street to now block any traffic along Park and South streets. Bronson Park and all of the trees we had just passed along our daily trip to rehearsal were gone! The Comerica Building had its front blown away to reveal office spaces demolished. What may have been important papers, were now scattered debris along Rose Street. It was like we were walking on the scene of a movie. It just didn’t seem real.
We all began to cry…well, just the girls. Miraculously, the Ladies’ Library next door and the Civic were virtually untouched by the tornado that would leave three dead downtown. One of those we later found out, was a motorcycle driver. My brother and I looked at one another, thinking—but not wanting to say out loud that it may have been the same guy we had just spoke to about his motorcycle while at McDonald’s.
The damage was like none we had ever seen. As we looked in horror, our leaders had to find a way to call our parents. Since there we no cell phones and power was out, how they did it, I have no idea. What I do remember is parents running toward their children, hugging them, crying, and thanking God that we all were unharmed. My mother rushed from her job as a nurse at Friendship Village across town when she heard downtown had been struck. When we saw her, she looked like she wanted to cry; but had to stay calm for us. She and other parents had to leave their cars blocks away and run to us as the streets were blocked by everything from clothing to trees.
A week later, downtown had cleared and our play was held to packed audiences at the Carver Center theater space. Even though my brother did an amazing job and was even pictured in the Kalamazoo Gazette in one of his scenes, he never participated in another play. I went on to perform in two more musicals with the Black Civic Theatre. During one of those plays, I entered the dressing room to find a large envelope taped to the mirror with my name on it. They were images from Marilyn Hebberly, a director of the Civic. She had found the images of my brother and me when we were in “Free to Be You and Me.” I smiled. Those photos brought back memories of the tornado that spared the lives of so many children who hid under the stage of the Civic Theatre. I always will remember that day.
Readers: What memories do you have of the tornado of 1980? Feel free to share them at editor@comvoicesonline.com for a series of Community Voices.
View the images of the 198o Tornado that are on display at the Kalamazoo Valley Museum. See the virtual tour at TORNADO OF 1980
