THE TORNADO OF 1850
So far as people of this locality are concerned that (Greenbank) was the starting poing of the tornado.
A little west of Greenbank James Ianson lived on his farm. Eighty-four years ago he was a lad of eight years. On the day of the storm his father was on his way home from a trip to Niagara, a journey he had taken on horseback, but he did not get back until the next day. Usually there were other men about the Ianson place for they ran a sawmill; but on this day they were away at a logging bee over at William Real's. This left Mrs. Ianson alone with her two boys - James, eight years old, and John, twelve years - and Mrs. Hunter, a sister who had been in Canada but three weeks. The family could see the the storm coming from the north-west. Out there on the hills the trees could be heard crashing down, and some of the giant pines could be seen falling. That picture lasted but a few moments, for the wind was coming with a tremendous rush. The Iansons ran into the house and waited for a few moments in terrible suspense, while outside the shriek and roar of the wind mingled with the artillery of hail, thunder and lightning.
What happened the next few minutes on Ianson's farm cannot be describe with any degree of fullness. All one could do would be to pile up adjectives depicting destruction. The house was caught in a whirlwind and scattered in pieces here and there over a distance of two miles. The big old fashioned chimney, built of brick from the ground up, fell on Mrs. Hunter and killed her outright, John Jr. was struck by a beam and his neck and arm were broken. James and his mother were buried under a mass of ruins. When they freed themselves after a time they entered a new world - a world of chaos. They attempted to make their way to a neighbor's, but the paths were blocked. All around was a hopeless confusion of twisted and broken trees that shut from view everything but the sky. Household effects, clothing, harness, hens mixed with bits of board and limbs of trees filled the air, and some of these things were carried as far as Scugog Island. Every fence was levelled, and the roof was torn from the sawmill, a one storey building that escaped worse damage. Mrs. Jas Ianson put it there was nothing left on the place higher than a stone pile. One dish only was saved from the general smash up and that was the butter dish which had been placed in the cellar. Nine hens, a rooster and one chicken formed the remnant of the Ianson poultry flock. The rest were blown away. When the storm started there was a potash kettle in the yard filled with ashes. Next day the neighbours were wandering about the yard looking at the ruins. They passed the kettle on their rounds. Presently they heard a lamb bleat, but could not locate where the sound came from. At last they discovered the lamb safely tucked under the potash kettle which had been turned upside down by the might of the wind. A rail was found which had been driven endwise into a stump several inches. A tree was also found which had been broken off, the stump ripped out by the roots and turned inside down, so that the top of the stump was driven into the ground and the roots were left sticking up in the air.
As the wind swept on it cleared a passage through the bush so that one could see all the way from Borelia to Greenbank. The trees were mowed down in an immense swath and remained in that condition in some parts for years. It grew to be a great slash where berries of all kinds were plentiful.
