On May 16, a ruthless tornado tore through parts of St. Louis city, county and the Metro East. In less than 30 minutes, the storm carved a 20-mile scar across north St. Louis, flattening blocks in Fountain Park, Penrose, the Ville and Kingshighway West. Nearly 5,000 homes, churches and businesses were destroyed, with damage estimates topping $1.6 billion.
Six months later, the city is still in the midst of healing — physically and emotionally. The most powerful storm to hit in nearly a century left some neighborhoods unrecognizable. Yet amid the devastation, St. Louisans have shown remarkable strength and generosity, with thousands pitching in to deliver food, clear debris and comfort neighbors where official help lagged.
Across North St. Louis, recovery remains slow and uncertain. But stories of resilience and community continue to define the city’s long road home.
Faith, loss and rebuilding
When the tornado struck, DeMarco Davidson, executive director of Metropolitan Congregations United, was inside Centennial Christian Church in Fountain Park. The storm reduced it to rubble, killing beloved church member Patricia Ann Penelton.
“It’s hard to believe it’s been six months,” Davidson said. “Sometimes it feels like a year ago; other times, like yesterday.”
He’s still recovering from back and hip injuries. “I was the last person to see Mrs. Pat alive,” he said. “That connection will always stay with me.”
Nine members from his home church, St. John’s UCC, dug him out of the rubble. “God is community,” Davidson said. “When I saw how people showed up, I knew I had to keep doing the work.”
That work now includes organizing food networks and faith partnerships to support families still struggling — what he calls his “survivor’s responsibility.”
A few blocks away, Larry Gray was sitting in his truck when the storm hit.
“I laid down in my truck. It only seemed to last two minutes, but when I looked up, almost everything was destroyed,” he said.
His rented home was spared demolition but suffered heavy roof damage. “If they’d gone inside, they probably would have condemned it,” he said.
The next morning, Gray fired up his grill to cook for neighbors. What began as an act of kindness became a community ritual. On cold mornings, he’s still outside with a blackened half-barrel smoker, flipping burgers and handing out free clothes and household goods.
“It wasn’t a plan,” he said. “It started with me feeding my neighbors. People started bringing more food, and it grew.”
Now, cars pull up for hot meals or to drop off donations. “It feels nice when someone comes along who doesn’t have a coat and you can give them one,” Gray said. “God put this in my hands.”
A few miles away, contractor Erion “Prop Man” Johnson launched a tiny home initiative to teach teens construction skills while building temporary housing for displaced residents.
“It showed we can do things that seem impossible,” Johnson said. “North and West St. Louis can come from this — we’re going to do it together.”
‘Pretty much on me’
When the tornado hit, Rochel Starling was away on a women’s retreat in Kentucky. She had an international trip planned immediately after, keeping her away for two more weeks. By the time she returned, her house was unrecognizable.
“My chimney had fallen, splitting my den in half,” she said. “My roof was gone, two trees were uprooted, every ceiling on the second floor except one had fallen in — and all the ceilings on the first floor except for two.”
Without insurance — her policy lapsed two years earlier — Starling was left to rebuild alone. “All the companies helping people, I missed them,” she said. “When I came back, it was pretty much on me.”
Her late grandfather had restored the home “room by room.” Losing it meant losing a piece of him. “The only thing to survive was his dining room table.”
Starling scraped together what funds she could: $1,000 from her employer, $600 from the Red Cross, $1,000 from Veterans Affairs and $35,000 from FEMA. She even withdrew $25,000 from her 401(k). A family friend and contractor, Rusty Watts, helped her rebuild one room at a time — just like her grandfather did.
“He understands I’m on a budget, so we’re taking it one room at a time,” she said. “The roof is finally done, and the den is patched.”
Today, she’s staying with her grandmother, mother and daughter — four generations under one roof.
“I still can’t go to my house,” Starling said. “It’s going to be a long-term recovery, but without my parents and sister, I don’t think I would’ve survived. When I saw devastation, they saw opportunity — and reminded me it was fixable.”
Still, she worries about others. “I still see people staying in tents next to their houses,” she said. “We need to figure out somewhere for them to go before winter.”
Filling the gap
In the storm’s aftermath, city officials urged residents not to self-deploy. Local nonprofits mobilized on their own.
Aaron Williams, president of 4theVille, was leaving Sumner High School’s graduation when the tornado struck. “I had just pulled away from our storefront on MLK 10 minutes before it hit,” he said.
By morning, the 4theVille storefront had become a command center. “I came back with a chainsaw,” Williams said. “That turned into a call for help, then people showing up asking what they could do.”
Working with Invest STL, Dream Builders for Equity, Action St. Louis and others, Williams helped distribute supplies and coordinate volunteers to stabilize homes.
“The major programs hadn’t been mobilized yet,” he said. “What was being offered was what we created — ‘we’ being the community-based and advocacy organizations.”
The people’s response
Action St. Louis was among the first groups on the scene. Executive Director Kayla Reed said her team knew government relief would be slow.
“We knew folks would immediately need food, water, hygiene products — and help cleaning up,” she said.
Action St. Louis and ForTheCultureSTL helped compile “The People’s Response Impact Report,” documenting how residents “self-deployed” while government systems caught up. Created with the University of Missouri’s Community Innovation and Action Center, the report found nearly 90% of renters and 67% of homeowners in the hardest-hit neighborhoods were uninsured. Between May 16 and June 28, more than 10,000 volunteers cleared debris, distributed 8,000 supply packages and served 21,000 meals.
“North St. Louis is our North Star,” the report declared. “Black families deserve stability, safety and the resources to thrive.”
Six months later
Some homes are rebuilt; many remain in ruins. In The Ville, 86-year-old Rita Henderson’s historic home — once owned by civil rights advocate Homer G. Phillips — still stands roofless, wrapped in tarp.
Her daughter, Bernetta Thornton, looks down their block on Cottage Avenue. “The neighborhood still looks the same,” she said. “But we’re hopeful. This block ain’t going anywhere.”
City leaders have committed millions of dollars in recovery aid, but rollout has been slow. Thornton worries that recovery north of Delmar Boulevard lags behind wealthier areas.
“The Central West End is back up,” she said. “Their neighborhoods don’t look raggedy like ours.”
Still, Henderson finds faith in her neighbors. “When the kids came around handing out water and saying, ‘It’s gonna be alright,’” she said, tears welling, “we had to believe them.”
As winter approaches, North St. Louis continues to rebuild — one block, one home and one heart at a time.
St. Louis American Arts and Entertainment Editor Kenya Vaughn contributed to this report.
