CHARLES CITY -- Springtime means something different since 1968. Sherry Sweet notices thunderstorms. Rain, lightning and wind in forceful combination can rattle the nerves.

"This time of year is when we all start getting a little antsy."

Sweet, 66, isn't alone. Other Charles City residents who remember the storm of storms in Iowa say they maintain a heightened awareness of the weather and a healthy respect for nature.

Even after 40 years.

When meteorologists issue watches and warnings, Sweet and her husband, Tracy, generally heed the advice and stay indoors. If the weather looks particularly dicey, the Sweets may head to the basement.

Curious cloud formations may lure some outdoors, but the Sweets feel no compulsion to gawk. Sherry has seen a tornado up close. She doesn't want to experience another.

"We would be very cautious," she said. "We wouldn't look out."

Sweet rode out the Charles City tornado of 1968 in the driver's seat of the family automobile. What was later judged an F5 twister tossed cars like a spoiled child throws toys that no longer hold an interest.

"It was just up, down, kaboom," she said.

"I held onto the steering wheel and prayed like I'd never prayed in my life."

Remembering

This month marks the 40th anniversary of the Charles City tornado. The deadly storm swept through Floyd County shortly before 5 p.m. on May 15, 1968. In minutes, the tornado, rated a high-intensity twister, destroyed neighborhoods and devastated a good portion of downtown.

The storm injured 450 people and claimed 13 lives.

Many more people were affected in Charles City, population 10,000. Historical records indicate the tornado destroyed 350 homes and damaged another 850. Its harsh winds wrecked 58 businesses and damaged more than 200. The carnage extended to churches, schools and vehicles.

Damage estimates surpassed $30 million.

Witnesses doubt numbers fully capture the magnitude. Photographs help.

"You don't understand how big it is," said Tracy Sweet, 70. "It was just humongous. It was monstrous."

Sherry Sweet, six-months pregnant at the time, drove directly into the storm's path. The tornado measured 1,200 feet wide -- more than a quarter mile -- and may have turned at more than 200 mph.

"Too big too see," Sherry said.

On the day of the storm, she drove to White Farm Equipment to pick up her husband from work. As she waited, Sherry heard radio reports of a funnel cloud spotted over Charles City.

She ran inside the plant to warn workers, then returned to her car to find her husband. Another employee, Jerry Fifer, approached to help, and Sherry believes he may have saved her life.

As Sherry drove through the parking lot, Fifer, who was walking beside her car, noticed the danger -- a looming wall of dirt and debris moving toward the vehicle.

Fifer jumped in front of Sherry's slow-moving car to stop her progress, Sherry said, but she actually struck him. Fifer jumped inside, told Sherry to buckle her seat belt and threw a raincoat over her head.

Sherry never saw their ascent. But she felt it.

"I knew we were going up and I knew when we came down," she said.

"It wasn't minutes. It was seconds."

The forceful landing blew out the vehicle's tires.

For years, Sherry assumed her car reached heights of about 15 feet. Years later, she learned Fifer's memories included a bird's-eye view of the Iowa Public Service Building and Jacobs Elevator.

Sherry now believes the flight was stories high.

Remarkable

Survivors remember specifics about that day in May, starting with the heat and humidity. Temperatures in the 80s felt unusually warm for springtime.

"All the ingredients came together to put together a monster storm," said Jeff Sisson, a resident, weather enthusiast and local authority on the tornado.

Sisson was 12 years old when he stood on a covered porch at the family's home on Third Avenue. He watched clouds bulge and swirl down from the sky. Huge clumps of hail fell.

Sisson recently put his recollections on paper.

"As my father and I watched we noticed the clouds twisting, rotating from the southeast to the northwest. It was amazing to watch because there was very little breeze on the ground but it still looked so violent.

"As we looked to the west above the treetops we could see stuff flying around in the air. I thought it was leaves and sticks, but would realize later it was huge chunks of debris."

The wind and hail drove the Sissons and many other residents inside. The storm passed quickly, and it didn't take long for residents to emerge from basements and shelters to observe the damage.

A toppled maple tree about 6 inches in diameter impressed Sisson.

"I thought, 'Wow, a tree was blown down.' I think about that tree every time I drive by that spot. It was the first damage I'd seen, but was nothing compared to what I would find seven blocks further west."

Sisson was shocked when he saw a hole in the roof of Immaculate Conception Catholic Church, created when the steeple crashed through.

"We couldn't believe our eyes as we looked up at the damage - bricks strewn all over the front steps and street as well. It was about this time when everyone in our vehicle looked west toward downtown Charles City and we were aghast. It looked like a bomb had hit. All I remember is seeing horrible destruction, people wandering in shock and streets clogged with debris, live wires and silence - This huge mess and no noise. It was truly unbelievable."

Shortly after the storm, night fell on the city. The Sweets, their own house in shambles, sought shelter with relatives. They listened to chain saws into the morning.

Sherry went into false labor, but the pains stopped. Tracy didn't see how they would be able to get to the hospital because so many streets were clogged with debris.

The Sweets kept their perspective.

"We never shed a tear because we decided we were all safe … ," Sherry said. "It was gone and we were all safe."

Unusual weather

Meteorologists are intrigued by the atmospheric conditions May 15, 1968, in Iowa. Storm systems produced not one but two F5s in the state.

One descended on Fayette County, touching 1,000 homes in Oelwein, knocking out power and causing $21 million in damage, according to the National Weather Service. The other F5 formed in Butler and Franklin counties, plowed through Charles City, then moved to Elma before dissipating near the Minnesota border.

Weaker tornadoes also touched down near Cresco and in Chickasaw County. Fayette County caught baseball-sized hail, according to the National Weather Service.

Experts consider the scope, scale and intensity of the larger twisters remarkable and unusual. The last time an F5 tornado hit Iowa was in the 1970s.

"It's fairly rare," said William Gallus, storm chaser and professor of meteorology at Iowa State University.

The Charles City tornado reportedly formed out of two twisters and traveled 65 miles on the ground.

Other states also experienced severe weather on May 15, 1968.

"That day that Charles City was hit seems somewhat unique in that tornadoes stretched from Arkansas to Ohio to Minnesota," Gallus said.

In March, Sisson presented information about the Charles City tornado at a severe weather conference in Des Moines for the National Weather Association's central Iowa chapter. He wanted to share first-hand accounts and put a human face on the business of forecasting.

What meteorologists are trying to do is save lives, Sisson said.

"And there aren't many people that have been around that had gone through storms like this."

After the storm

In Charles City, many of the storytellers have died or moved away.

"The stories are getting harder and harder to find," Sisson said.

Tracy Sweet accepts most any tale involving a twister, no matter how bizarre.

"I'm inclined to believe most things I heard about tornadoes," Sweet said. "I've seen so many strange things."

Half-empty bottles of Coke with the lids in place. Glass inside bedsheets. Straw rammed into a fence post.

Sisson recalls mattresses wedged in hotel windows.

The storm scattered seed from a large grain elevator, he said. That summer, corn grew out of cracks in sidewalks, tree bark and along streets all over Charles City, he said.

Friendly neighbors in Minnesota mailed items and documents that dropped from the sky.

"We got things back for weeks," said Dick Herbrechtsmeyer of First Security Bank & Trust.

The tornado wiped his office desk clean.

Some estimate that of Charles City's 3,600 families, the storm directly affected 2,200. But even those who survived the storm with personal property, body and soul intact take ownership of the event that brought the Iowa National Guard to town.

Those beyond the storm's epicenter empathized with their friends and neighbors at the time and still marvel at their stories.

Donna Masmar's to-do list that Wednesday included picking up her son, Craig, from choir practice and taking him to the barbershop. As the weather worsened, Masmar cut the errand short and went home.

Later, she learned the barbershop and vehicles in its parking lot all sustained damage.

"But for the grace of God," said Masmar, 75.

She was a nurse at Floyd County Memorial Hospital at the time and rode out the storm in the family's garage. As soon it was safe, she made a beeline for the hospital on foot.

Masmar remembers the timing of the storm added to the frenzy. She later wrote about the experience in a journal.

"Families were scattered all over town as they are every other day of the week at 5 p.m. -- paper routes, picnics, playing with friends."

That first night, hospital employees relied on packaged water and generators. Individuals with the worst injuries went to larger facilities in the area.

The patients, Masmar said, were notably calm.

"Nobody really complained much," she said. "They were really in shock."

The full reality of the disaster didn't hit home until Masmar saw the next day's headlines.

"'My gosh, we've lived through a crisis,'" she remembers thinking.

Navigating streets and neighborhoods without recognizable landmarks confused many. Some businesses, including a hardware store managed by Masmar's husband, Jan, took months to re-open. Other businesses never did.

Cleanup crews, insurance agents and good Samaritans stayed for weeks. Activities and meetings came to a halt. School ended for the year.

Shortly after the disaster, authorities initiated an identification system to keep track of residents and to discourage looters. For a time, the Sweets needed a pass to enter their neighborhood.

"It brings out the best of people and the worst," Tracy Sweet said.

Blessings

Survivors say the community rallied to help those in need. Churches offered shelter and allowed displaced congregations to share religious services.

In some respects, Charles City dodged a bullet, Sisson said. While acknowledging the extensive loss of life and structures, he also believes what survived is also relevant.

The tornado missed the hospital -- some saw the twister rise over the building before setting back down -- and spared some of the town's largest employers and the city's wastewater and water plant.

"As big as it was, it was a miracle," Sisson said.

The storm ushered in a phase of development. Prior to the tornado, controversy over a proposed urban renewal project had created divisions in the community. Afterward, starting over was no longer optional.

"That discussion just ended there," Tracy Sweet said. "There was nothing to renew. It was rebuild."

Masmar said in many respects the changes were for the better, noting a spiritual regeneration.

"I think we had a lot better cooperation between everybody," she said.

Lessons

These days, Charles City residents often mention the tornado simply in passing. The disaster serves as a reference point, Sisson said, like birthdays, deaths and changes of address, the tornado is a way to track time and keep other memories in proper order.

The Floyd County Museum still fields requests for information about the tornado, director Mary Ann Townsend said. Over the years, residents began dropping off old photos and newspaper clippings, and the museum maintains a permanent display on Floyd County tornadoes in 1858, 1878, 1908 and 1968.

"There are lots of good pictures," Townsend said.

The storm's immediate and lasting impact is understandable, she added.

"Something that life-changing stays with you," she said.

Even after 40 years.

Contact Karen Heinselman at (319) 291-1581 or karen.heinselman@wcfcourier.com.