Margo Taft Stever
Bomb Shelter Explosion Report
Sputnik circled the earth; people imagined atomic bombs. Russians
blasted Yuri Gagarin into the cosmos—the space race the new now.
Soviets placed nuclear missiles in Cuba.
Police Report, November 11, 1967: Explosion occurred
in underground bomb shelter, 300 yards north of main
residence, thirty feet east of garage. Fuse box found near
victim’s left hand. Object partially covered with blood.
Kennedy ordered, “fallout protection for Americans
as rapidly as possible. We owe that kind of insurance to
our families,” October 6, 1961. He asked Congress
for $100 million to construct shelters.
Mr. Taft’s wife called to report the bomb shelter
blew up. Her husband, Hulbert Taft, was inside.
Soviets tested the first atomic bomb. Some Americans dug shelters
at night to keep neighbors from knowing. A cartoon turtle, Bert, urged
children to duck and cover. Bomb shelters sold like hula hoops. Newspapers
reported radiation readings next to the day’s weather report.
Officers Miller, Hiatt, Wiebold, Arthur, Brakvill, Schlie, and Gruenmaier
responded. Upon arrival, they went directly to the location. The shelter was
demolished, the roof caved in. Sod, dirt, and chunks of concrete scattered
all around. Some white smoke drifted from the southwest corner, and also,
from the entrance door. Dirt and sod were blown about one hundred feet.
Russians warned, “It would take really very few multimegaton nuclear bombs to wipe out
your small and densely populated countries and instantly kill you in your lairs.” Because
gamma rays travel in straight lines, entrance ramps were built at right angles. Blast doors
would pillow the shock wave of a nuclear blast and regained their prior shape.
Mr. Taft had parked his car, a yellow Pontiac Firebird, in front of the barn,
directly west of the shelter. Dirt from the explosion was on top of the car.
The shelter looked like the roof raised, then fell on the floor. A small area
along the north and west wall was not completely caved in.
The Snyder shelter designer spec’d sand floors so dwellers could bury
turds and piss. Shelters included battery-powered radios, lanterns,
sleeping bags, cots, chemical toilets, heating systems, fuel tanks, firearms
(to keep neighbors out). Necessary supplies included bottled drinking water,
first-aid kits, reading, writing, recreational material, cleaning supplies, and clothing.
Officer Arthur checked the blast areas, but could not find the victim. The Fire
Department responded, along with all available men from the Service
Department. All men started shoveling dirt from the roof.
On TV, people watched Leave It to Beaver, Father Knows Best, Ozzie and Harriet, and
apocalyptic movies—On the Beach, The Last Man on Earth. Wall Street predicted
the bomb shelter building craze profits could increase to twenty billion.
The fire department tried to put out smoke from the southwest
corner. An electrical fire commenced and arced with water
until someone pulled a switch in the house.
Survival stores sold atomic bomb protection outfits. General Foods and
General Mills advertised dried shelter meals. A worried farmer in Iowa
built a fallout shelter for 200 cows. Salaried spotters searched for suspect
objects in the skies.
Carter Construction Company responded with two backhoes to remove
dirt and gravel from the caved-in roof. White smoke had an odor assumed
to be propane gas. The caretaker, Mr. Liming, located the underground tank
and turned off the gas at which time the white smoke ceased.
Some clients forced contractors to construct shelters at night.
The backhoes arrived at 5:00 p.m. and the body of my uncle, Mr. Hulbert Taft,
was located ten feet from the entrance door, four feet west of the front interior wall.
The body was face down with the head toward the south. His left foot was pinned
under a large I-beam. His clothing was partially burned, and he was
bleeding from his head. Near his left hand lay the electrical circuit
breaker with blood on it, and a small wrench was nearby.
Teachers at odd moments screamed, “Drop,” and students hid under desks.
Teachers led children into basements or forced them to duck under desks.
Not allowed to go to the bathroom, many children wet their pants.
The Hamilton County Coroner was advised to move the body
to the county morgue. Dr. Victor Strauss, the family doctor, was at the scene.
Taft was pronounced dead by Strauss. His body was examined by Dr. Adriano
who found the victim to have been in perfect health prior to death. Taft
suffered a crushed chest and head injuries; apparently, he died
in the explosion as determined by lack of carbon monoxide in his lungs.
The U.S. government cautioned that flimsy shelters could burn inhabitants to a crisp
or crush them like grapefruits. Conelrad (Control of Electromagnetic Radiation) broadcast
advice suggesting two weeks of food would allow for survival from a nuclear bomb.
Each adult could take 130 mg of potassium iodide a day and each child 65 mg to bolster
thyroid glands against deadly intake of radioactive iodide.
At 11:00 a.m., November 11, 1967, the reporting officer, Patrolman Miller,
interviewed three girls—Pamela Baker, age 8, her sister, Gillian Baker, age 7, and a
friend, Becky Thompson, age 8, who were at the residence at the time of the
explosion. The Tafts had recently acquired a small pony. The girls were looking at
the pony when the shelter exploded. Mrs. Baker, their mother, advised of heavy
concentrations of dirt in their hair, but they were not injured by the blast.
Life Magazine praised a couple who spent their honeymoon in a bomb shelter.
Someone lied to his neighbors, stating that his shelter was a wine cellar.
The arson investigator, Mr. Peterson thought that the mixture of gas
and oxygen at the time Mr. Taft entered the shelter had to be at its
highest ignition point. He believed Mr. Taft entered shortly
before 4:00 p.m., November 11, and smelled a strong concentration of gas.
He is thought to have gone over to the fuse box and pulled the main circuit
breaker at which time small sparks resulted and the explosion occurred.
In one of the first “Twilight Zones,” the protagonist returns from a space mission;
everything is destroyed by nuclear holocaust. One human left is alone.
In an interview, the victim’s son and daughter-in-law assured that
their father was in good health and spirit. He had only minor problems,
nothing that would lead him to an intentional explosion. He checked
the shelter every day after work. He had no known enemies.
—Submitted on 11/21/2020
Margo Taft Stever is the author of Cracked Piano (CavanKerry Press, 2019), Ghost Moose (Kattywompus Press, 2019), The Lunatic Ball (Kattywompus Press, 2015), The Hudson Line (Main Street Rag, 2012), Frozen Spring (Mid-List Press, 2002) and Reading the Night Sky (Riverstone Press, 1996). Her work has appeared in Verse Daily, Prairie Schooner, Connecticut Review, Cincinnati Review, Plume, and other journals. Stever is founder of the Hudson Valley Writers Center and founding and current co-editor of Slapering Hol Press. She lives in Sleepy Hollow, NY.
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Melissa Eleftherion is the author of field guide to autobiography (The Operating System, 2018), little ditch (above/ground press, 2018), and trauma suture (above/ground press, 2020). Her poems have appeared in Entropy, Flag+Void, Lunch Ticket, Pith, Queen Mob’s Teahouse, and other journals. Born and raised in Brooklyn, Eleftherion lives in Northern California, where she manages the Ukiah Library, teaches creative writing, and curates the LOBA Reading Series. Online at apoetlibrarian.wordpress.com.
As we near the end of the Trump administration, I find myself searching for a silver lining. I have finally found it in