Not all heroes wear capes. Some wear suspenders.
On April 27, 2011, the largest tornado outbreak in nearly 40 years tore through the South, spinning up 216 tornadoes on a single calendar day and claiming more than 300 lives. Hardest hit was the state of Alabama, where multiple EF5s and more than half a dozen EF4s carved deadly scars into the landscape.
Residents of northern Alabama, many of whom had been awakened by an early morning band of severe thunderstorms, huddled in safe rooms and storm shelters for much of the afternoon and evening amid a relentless onslaught of rotating thunderstorms. For many, one man was their lifeline during the seemingly endless hours of fury: James Spann.
Spann is the chief meteorologist at ABC 33/40 in Birmingham. He’s a veteran in the field and beloved by meteorologists and the public alike. And, during the infamous April 27, 2011, tornado outbreak, he broadcast live tornado coverage nonstop for more than eight hours and is credited with saving countless lives.
The storms that shaped Spann’s career path
Decades before that fateful day entered the forecast, a teenage James Spann found himself helping to save Alabamians during the last national “super outbreak” on April 3, 1974. Alabama was the epicenter of disaster during that tornado swarm, too, with multiple top-tier F5s carving through the same county northwest of Huntsville. The outbreak also affected the Midwest; at one point, overwhelmed forecasters in Indiana placed the entire state under a tornado warning.
“I’ve had my ham radio license since I was 14,” said Spann in a recent phone interview. “My hobby then was ham radio. I was in Jasper [a city about 35 miles northwest of Birmingham]. They put us in the hospital to establish a radio link with relief agencies in Birmingham.”
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Although he had grown up weathering Alabama’s weather and storms, it was the first time he had a taste of the impacts they could have.
“I was so busy getting the radio set up and getting a link established that at first I didn’t see the graphic nature of the wounds coming into that hospital,” recalled Spann. “I had nightmares for years waking up in a cold sweat. I don’t think a 17-year-old needs to see that.”
Amid the emotional scars, Spann credits the 1974 outbreak for putting him on the path that has since shaped his career.
“Experiencing a super outbreak as a child with my radio gear helped me understand … that we’re all just little cogs in this wheel,” he explained. “A lot of people are walking around today because they heard the warnings and got into a safe place.”
At the helm and fearing for the worst
Nearly 40 years later, Spann found himself at the helm of this operation, leading the state through what he called a “generational” tornado outbreak. Even in the days leading up to April 27, 2011, he knew Alabama wasn’t looking at a typical tornado day.
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“We have a lot of tornadoes here in April. It’s the core of the spring season here,” said Spann. “But this thing happened on a Wednesday. I tried to catch people on the Friday before, because the shear was high, the wind fields were really strong. … By Monday, the messaging was … involving the potential for violent, long-track tornadoes.”
Even Spann was startled by the violence that ensued that day, starting early with a morning round of severe thunderstorms and tornadoes. Jason Simpson, the morning meteorologist at Spann’s station, spent hours on air covering it beginning around 3:30 a.m.
Spann, who usually worked in the evenings as chief meteorologist, rushed to the studio to help with coverage.
“I didn’t understand the morning convection and how significant that would be,” recalled Spann. “We didn’t have people prepared for that. We had five people die that morning from the combination of tornadoes and straight-line winds. It was like somebody punched us in the gut.”
The morning storms knocked out power to a half-million people and crippled the capabilities of ABC 33/40. Multiple National Weather Service warning transmission towers were downed or damaged. And it was just the start of a long day ahead.
As the storms passed and the sky cleared, Spann’s tone became increasingly serious as he wrapped up the morning show.
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“The sun is out. We’re sitting on a powder keg,” he said during his morning forecast.
The mood in the newsroom was becoming increasingly grave.
“We had infrastructure damaged, cameras out, Internet out. … When we went back to programming at 9 a.m., they streamed in there and said, ‘This isn’t working. This isn’t working,’ ” recalled Spann. “I finally said, ‘Guys, time out. I need to know what is working. It’s about to get really rough here.’ ”
Spann and his team quickly worked to create a plan before the afternoon storms developed. He knew those would be even stronger — multiple rounds of lone, discrete rotating thunderstorms or “supercells” capable of producing massive, violent tornadoes.
The National Weather Service Storm Prediction Center drew a rare high risk of severe weather around northern Alabama and by 11 a.m. had hoisted a “particularly dangerous situation” tornado watch, an alert reserved for the most extreme circumstances. It was the first time it had stated the probability of all hazards — significant tornadoes, destructive winds and very large hail — was high.
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“All parameters suggest that strong/violent and long-track tornadoes are possible,” forecasters wrote.
‘[A]ll we can do is pray for these people’
At 2 p.m., Spann interrupted local programming and began a marathon of coverage that wouldn’t end until the 11 p.m. news was through.
“It’s 2 o’clock. I’m James Spann in the weather center with an update on the severe weather situation,” said Spann, clad in a white shirt, tie and suspenders. Longtime viewers knew that was a bad sign.
“Social scientists say [that viewers] will read your eye contact, your body language, how you interact with maps on green wall … how you’re dressed, if [your] jacket’s off and they see suspenders, sleeves rolled up,” said Spann. “I don’t roll my sleeves up unless it’s a really dangerous tornado situation.”
After a quick update, Spann promised a swift return to regular programming, but his gut told him to hold the line. He zoomed into the radar map of a rotating thunderstorm in Walker County, Ala., and leaped right into coverage mode.
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“Wow. I’ve never seen that before,” said Spann, pointing to a computer-derived index used to gauge the likelihood of a tornado. It was a 12.6. He had thought the scale went to 10. Seven minutes later, a tornado warning was issued. Spann knew it would be a long day.
“We had that supercell that formed north of Jasper,” recalled Spann. “I saw the kidney-bean shape, I looked at [Jason Simpson], we shook our heads, and thought, ‘It’s go time.’ I don’t think either one of us thought we’d go back to programming for quite some time.”
For the next nine hours, Spann stood in front of a green screen, calling out roadways, towns, intersections and restaurants. He spoke firm with his eyes locked on the viewer, assuring them that, if they took appropriate measures, they would survive. All of Alabama had its eyes on him.
“It’s surreal,” said Spann on air, standing in front of a live camera view of an enormous tornado churning through Tuscaloosa, a city of 100,000. “Goodness gracious. This will be a day that will go down in state history … and all we can do is pray for these people.”
He paused before continuing with his coverage.
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“This is a very rare day,” he said. “Maybe a once-in-a-career type day.”
He didn’t budge from his post all evening on April 27. The Tuscaloosa tornado was one of 15 violent EF4 or EF5 tornadoes on the 0 to 5 scale. Other deadly monsters hit Hackleburg, Phil Campbell, Reform, Cordova, Shottsville, Higdon, Birmingham, Bridgeport, Uniontown and scores of other communities. He wasn’t done until the last tornado.
“You have to stay calm,” said Spann, remembering back to 2011. “I don’t know if I did stay calm that much. I try to be urgent and bold at the same time. … That’s sort of a hard combination.”
Leading with unparalleled local knowledge
Spann has earned acclaim not only for his suspenders and steady and sincere delivery, but also for his encyclopedic knowledge of local geography.
That knowledge goes beyond what you can get from an atlas; he knows the state’s towns by heart along with their landmarks. From a single radar frame, he can often tell which pet store, car dealership or restaurant is at risk. He’s probably eaten there once or twice.
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“You can’t really do an event like [April 27, 2011] effectively unless you understand the people, the culture and the geography,” said Spann. “That’s why I’m in a school every day. Driving there, I take the roads less traveled, … not the interstate. Take the road where people live at, stop at a Dollar General, take time to talk to people. … They’ll tell you things. You get on TV and say there’s a tornado 14 miles southwest of Clanton. They could have lived in Chilton County all their life and not know where the tornado is. But if you say there’s a tornado at Jim Pit Barbecue, everyone knows where that is.”
Even Spann himself isn’t immune to the weather. His house was hit by a tornado March 25 this year. He called out an on-air warning to his wife, but continued coverage without wavering.
“To do this job, you need to spend some time away from the weather office,” said Spann. “I make my interns just walk into a Dollar General or a Walmart, and see if they can interact with the people in that Walmart. That represents the greatest cross-section of the people they’ll be serving.”
Now, a decade later, Spann’s commitment to protecting the citizens of Alabama hasn’t changed.
“I needed six months to grieve and go through all of the emotions [from the outbreak],” said Spann. “Then I rolled up my sleeves and got to work.”
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