"The weather in Las Vegas generally is quite reliable. In the summer we have a period of increasing heat, each day a little hotter than the day before. Then over the mountains great masses of white clouds develop out of a clear sky with a threat of storm 'thunderheads' we call them.

Generally the evening breeze flows down from the high mountain ranges and the thunderheads just join the birds in tucking their white heads under their wings and fading away into nothing at all. The whole process is probably repeated the next day and the next and the day after until the breeze shifts to the north and brings us coolness from the High Sierras and the Pacific Northwest.

But sometimes Old Thunderbird gets tired of being gentle with us and asserts himself with a ferocity and a spectacular show of power hardly to be expected from one usually so busy building massive, towering pictures of The Great White Throne for us.

It was the afternoon of Monday, July 23, 1923, that Old Thunderhead, for some reason or another, flew into a tantrum and went on such a bender of fury that those of us who felt its savage fury will never forget it - just at this moment I recall Judge Bert Henderson as one of those most intimately involved in the turmoil.

Just because I can do no better after the lapse of more than 29 years, I will quote a little of what I wrote about Las Vegas' most savage storm in the past half century, while I was still wet and shivering and nerve-wracked by Old Thunderhead's outbreak. Of course our readers will bear in mind that it was my policy then, as now, never to exaggerate; never to write words for the mere sake of making a sensation, but always trying to tell just exactly what happened.

'A torrential downpour, accompanied by hail, wind and lightning, caused considerable excitement and result in more or less damage to property Monday afternoon, between 4 and 5 o'clock. During the storm, lasting about an hour, the rain gauge of the local weather station recorded 1.98 inches of precipitation, but as much of the downpour was driven by a high wind, it is probably that the actual rainfall was 50% greater than the gauge registered.

The storm was quite local and centered in this city . . . The storm first came out of the south, then veered to the west and north and at times the downpour seemed to come from all directions. Some hail came with the final burst of the storm, but the hailstones were not large enough to break windows except in a few cases.

The storm was spectacular. Lightning was incessant and the crash of thunder terrifying. The streets were rushing rivers and the roar of the wind almost deafening. Most of the people were in their homes or in business blocks trying to preserve their belongings from wetting by the streams of water which was driven through every crevice.

Only after the storm subsided was it generally known that there had been numerous narrow escapes from death or injury and considerable damage to property. A special Providence intervened, seemingly, in several cases.

In the Ed W. Clark building, Dr. L. T. Brock, Judge Charles Lee Horsey, A.S. Henderson and Dupray were standing at the front windows of Judge Horsey's office on the second floor, watching the storm. There was a blinding flash and a terrific crash as several tons of the ornamental brick coping from the top of the building's front crashed through the roof and ceiling to the floor a foot or two behind the four men. The suddenness of the disaster doubtless saved them for, had they had time to step back from the windows, they would have been crushed beneath the falling mass. Dr. L.T. Brock was not fortunate enough to escape uninjured. A fragment of the debris struck him on the head, inflicting a severe scalp wound and rendering him unconscious.

A.S. Henderson, another of the party, received a blow on the back of the neck of which he was not aware at the time, but he suffered some pain and inconvenience for several days. Note: The Clark Building was located on Fremont Street between the Overland Hotel and the alley. It now is occupied as part of the Las Vegas Club.

The most miraculous escape was that of Mrs. Scott Bearden and her baby. They were in their small cottage on Eighth Street when the wind turned it over twice and then scattered the broken fragments over the surroundings, leaving them out in the fury of the storm, but uninjured except for a few scratches and a drenching.

At Ladd's Resort, seven boys had taken refuge in the bath houses on the bring of the pool. The wind threw the frail structures into the pool, fortunately with the doors upward, and the boys escaped without injury. Note: Ladd's Resort was on the south side of Fremont Street at Eleventh.

During the storm travelers opened the doors of Ladd's garage and drove into the building, leaving the doors open. The wind, forcing through the open doors, collapsed the building, leaving it flat on the cars within. Nobody was injured.

As an aftermath of the storm, the west wall of The Oasis (now the Eagles building) and the east wall of the building owned by Will Beckley and occupied by Ball Brothers grocery (now the Turf Club) collapsed. The Oasis and Balls' grocery adjoin on opposite sides the property on which Judge Lillis is building. Excavations along the property lines on each side are about three feet deep by two fee wide for the foundations. These excavations were filled with water, softening the ground under the foundations of the adjoining buildings. Ball Brothers Grocery had been filled with customers after the storm subsided. When the Oasis wall fell, all ran out to view the disaster and it was then feared that the Beckley building might suffer in the same manner and people were reluctant about going back into the store. As the throng stood waiting developments a customer came and asked for some tomatoes from the vegetable stand near the store entrance. Miss Eva Norris (now Eva Perry at the postage stamp window at the Las Vegas Post Office) an employee of the store, immediately volunteered to get them and ran into the store. She got the tomatoes and satisfied a customer almost at the cost of her life. The walls began to creak and crack while she was still in the store. Like a flash she ran out the front door just a fraction of a second ahead of the falling parapet of the front, which crashed to the sidewalk so close behind her as to graze her dress. A merciless Providence timed her movements so that she escaped uninjured, but suffering from nervous shock.'

I see that space will not permit me to mention in this column the many, many other tragic events and narrow escapes in that storm. But I started out to tell our readers that in spite of the reputation of our climate for gentleness, it sometimes breaks forth in furry. Every cellar and basement was filled with water in that storm. Every roof leaked enthusiastically. Not a home or a business block escaped damage to some small extent. It may easily happen again, although that storm was only one in half a century."