Editor’s note: A deadly tornado demolished the town of Greensburg on May 4. The following “memories” article was written by a former Greensburg resident.

My husband, John, and I became the new owners of the Greensburg weekly newspaper, “The Kiowa County Signal,” on March 1, 1956. We were excited.

About six weeks earlier, we had learned about the possible sale of the Greensburg paper. John contacted the owner, Mack Nations, who agreed to meet us – secretly – on the west edge of Greensburg. We would drive into town in a borrowed car. He wasn’t ready for anyone to know he was selling the paper. That was fine with us. He said he would like to show us the town before going to the newspaper plant.

We noticed many businesses up and down Main Street and spilling onto side streets. The streets were well-maintained streets. We drove through residential areas and enjoyed seeing the many lovely homes and well-kept lawns. The people of Greensburg obviously took a lot of pride in their homes and businesses – as well as their schools, which were large and modern.

As the county seat of Kiowa County, Greensburg was home to a stately old court house. It also had a fine hospital, with two excellent medical doctors living in Greensburg. Hundreds of trees adorned the city, and there was an attractive city park near the Big Well, which was widely advertised as “the world’s largest hand-dug well”.

Perfect place

John and I looked at each other and smiled; we both knew this was the town we were looking for. During the previous year, we already had visited about 15 other towns in a five-state area where we had hoped to find a newspaper publishing business for sale. John asked Mack if he had set a price for The Signal. Mack mentioned an amount, and John immediately said, “We’ll take it.”

“You will buy the newspaper? Why, you haven’t even seen the printing plant yet,” Mack exclaimed incredulously.

“I know, Mack,” John replied, “but this is exactly the kind of town Virginia and I have been searching for. We know this is the kind of town that would support a good newspaper. We want to buy the newspaper.”

But John’s enthusiasm caused Mack to reflect on the price he had quoted. Perhaps there was some gold mine in Greensburg that he hadn’t realized existed. Mack decided he didn’t think he wanted to sell The Signal after all, but he did have another newspaper in a nearby town that he would sell to us.

Our hearts sank.

We had fallen in love with Greensburg, which appeared to be a thriving, up-and-coming community that would be a great place to raise our little sons, Joseph and James, then ages 3 and 2, respectively. We also knew it would be a great community in which to publish a newspaper.

The last stop on our tour was the newspaper plant. We liked it, too.

Several weeks passed before Mack called us back and conceded that he was, indeed, ready to sell us the paper. Thrilled and grateful, we began to look for a place to live in Greensburg.

There was a housing shortage at the time, but we found a lovely basement apartment on Grant Street. About 2,000 people lived in the town then. It was a very special place, full of people with enthusiasm and vision.

In our prayers

We loved our years in Greensburg – from 1956 to 1970. Our sons Spencer and John Jr. were born there. When we sold the paper in 1970, the town was still strong and growing. However, the scene began changing a few years later when operation of Greensburg’s natural gas booster stations became largely computerized. Down-sizing began, and many of the employees either lost their jobs or were transferred elsewhere.

Over the years we have returned to Greensburg from time to time, mainly to visit old friends and the cemetery, where our oldest son, Joseph, is buried.

Year by year, Main Street lost some of its businesses. At least one – Fleener Furniture Store – was still growing, though. It had a record of serving the community and surrounding area for many decades.

It now lies in ruins – along with all the rest of Main Street – as a result of the May 4 tornado.

On May 16, I finally made contact by telephone with Betty Olinger. She and her husband, Willard, are staying at the home of friends in Haviland. Willard was pastor of one of the town’s many churches – all now lying in ruins. Betty and Willard were my spiritual mentors during the years we lived in Greensburg.

Betty said the photos we had been seeing of the ruins are, indeed, descriptive. However, she said that we still must physically stand in the midst of the ruins to realize the enormity of the pain.

When asked how we could pray for them, she replied, “Please pray for us to have wisdom. Pray that we will hear from God to get his direction for our lives.”