Monday, Nov. 05, 1928

Sixty-Second Cyclone

The roof of London's Labor Exchange rose gently up, one evening last week, then slithered down to crash in fragments. Two omnibuses were checked as they lumbered across Oxford Circus, were sportively rolled backward several yards. The glass dome of the Royal College of Music was blown to tinkling smithereens. . . .

As the windows of great shops buckled and burst, streets were strewn with clothing store dummies, some in fetching negligee. Citizens and policemen clung to lamp posts, or flung themselves flat and clung to gutters. Finally even the elite U. S. patrons of smart hotels along the Thames Embankment were made to choke and gasp with streaming eyes, as smoke and soot blew down the chimneys of their bedrooms' open hearths. . . .

These things and many another happened during the first minute after 7 p.m., when a roguish sixty-second cyclone struck London, killed none, injured two.