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Contractors estimate it will cost $160,000 to repair. His insurance company hasn't agreed to pay it. Even if it does, it's not clear how soon the repairs can start.

The problem? There's a mammoth backlog in getting the red terracotta tiles for hundreds of roofs, like Stormo's, damaged in the May 16 tornado. And they're unusually expensive to replace.

"I’m hoping we get to it before winter sets in," Stormo said. "But who knows?" 

From Clayton to ×îÐÂÐÓ°ÉÔ­´´, tornado victims with historic tiled roofs are battling insurance companies over costs, scrambling for roofing contractors with expertise and time, and waiting for months for shipments of expensive clay and slate tiles that have to be custom made.

The problem is holding up recovery for even the most affluent neighborhoods hit by the tornado, from Wydown Boulevard in Clayton to the compact neighborhoods of Skinker DeBalivier to historic ×îÐÂÐÓ°ÉÔ­´´ streets in the Central West End. And it could lead to a major loss for architectural preservation, as property owners turn to synthetic or other types of roof material.

A century ago, homeowners could have purchased roof tiles out of a catalogue, said Michael Allen, a former lecturer on architectural history at Washington University in ×îÐÂÐÓ°ÉÔ­´´ and a current history professor at West Virginia University.

"Today, it’s a rare, artisan product," he said.

"I think we’re going to see a lot of roofs change," he continued.  

'We're extremely busy'

The May tornado tore through neighborhoods with some of the highest numbers of slate- and clay-tile roofs in the region, spiking demand and overwhelming insurers and roofing contractors. 

"It all happened at once," said ×îÐÂÐÓ°ÉÔ­´´ Cultural Resources Office Director Bob Bettis.

The neighborhoods were built between the late 1800s and early 1900s, when clay and slate tiles were popular for their waterproofing, insulation, visual appeal and durability — advertised to last 100 years or more.

Clay was crafted into different shapes, sizes and colors by companies with unique designs. Slate mines in the northeast were abundant in stone with hues of brown, gray and black. One clay or slate tile could cost 30 cents to $1.65 a piece then.

Now they range between $10 to $50. A full slate roof replacement can cost anywhere from $100,000 for a single-family house to as much as $1.5 million for large buildings like churches or schools. 

"There’s a huge delta," Bettis said of the price range. "But none of it is cheap."

Producers of slate and clay tiles today argue their materials are worthwhile.

But there's another problem right now: It's taking months to get the tiles.

Slate, for example, can vary in color, and that requires matching old roofs to new tiles based on where they were mined, said Julie Butler, marketing director for Columbus, Ohio-based Durable Slate, which specializes in historic roofs.

"Sourcing the correct slate or tile is important," Butler said. "And so is understanding how to integrate it into a historic roof so that it works like it has for the past 100 years."

Durable Slate works with about a dozen slate producers across the world. Even the most common slate tile can take at least four to six weeks to ship, she said.

For clay, fewer than a handful of ×îÐÂÐÓ°ÉÔ­´´-area salvagers have stockpiled tiles from roofs that were demolished over the years. Only one company in the Midwest still makes tiles anew: Ludowici, an Ohio-based supplier whose tiles can be found on roofs across the region, including on landmarks like Union Station.

Each tile is a custom order because each roof is unique, said Steven Pitts, Ludowici's national market manager for storm and insurance sales. Most have structural accessories necessary to hold the tiles together. Others were made by companies that don't exist anymore, like Mound City, a former ×îÐÂÐÓ°ÉÔ­´´ producer, and have to be re-created.

An order of standard red terracotta field tiles can take three months to manufacture, Pitts said. Accessory tiles can take up to 18 months.

Pitts estimated 700 homes had terracotta roofs damaged in the tornado. 

"We’re extremely busy at this point," Pitts said. 

In the past, ×îÐÂÐÓ°ÉÔ­´´ property owners in historic districts like the Central West End would have been required by law to use like material for repairs or renovations, unless they appealed to the Preservation Board for special permission.

In August, Mayor Cara Spencer issued an executive order that could give tornado victims leeway to use synthetic tiles on the sides and backs of buildings, depending on the circumstances.

The city has issued 200 building permits so far and expects hundreds more still to come.

Fights with insurance

On Aberdeen Place in Clayton, homeowner John Schoon has tarp "Band-Aids" covering the cracks in his green-glazed clay roof.

An insurance adjuster came to his 1924 home in June and said the company would pay a few thousand dollars to replace missing tiles.

Then his roofing contractor visited and said the roof's underlayment and wood frame needed to be rebuilt, which would require removing more tiles and replacing them. The adjuster came back in August to review the contractor's assessment. 

Schoon hasn't heard from him since.

"They can call you, but you can't call them," said Schoon, 94, a retired teacher. "You have to make an appointment just to get a phone call."

Meanwhile, his contractor warned him that only Ludowici makes the tiles they need. And they're backlogged. 

"They exist, and this company assures me I can get them," Schoon said.

When? He has no idea. 

On Skinker Boulevard in ×îÐÂÐÓ°ÉÔ­´´, the slate roof of the historic Memorial Presbyterian Church has a massive hole from where the bell tower collapsed into the sanctuary. 

The church was built in 1926 with limestone walls, stained glass windows, copper gutters and tens of thousands of slate roof tiles. It's listed on the National Register of Historic Places. With fundraising, the church plans to rebuild with historic materials, said Greg Johnson, lead pastor.

But it can't afford to replace the slate roof, which would cost "hundreds of thousands of dollars," Johnson said. 

"There’s nothing that’s been a bigger hassle," he said. 

The church pleaded its case to its insurer, but the company noted its policy covered "functional replacement" — which "does not consider appearance, longevity, original materials, or historic design as criteria." It suggested a synthetic slate roof instead.

Johnson, who has a degree in architecture, said historic roofs are an "integral" part of their buildings and not meant to be replaced with just anything.

"Natural slate has a beauty and durability to it that synthetic products can’t fully match," he said.

On De Giverville Avenue in the historic Skinker-DeBaliviere neighborhood, Marc L'Ecuyer has stockpiled red terracotta clay tiles like those on the roof of his 1906 home. The tiles, which he bought from salvage yards, have specific grooves that lock together. 

"I learned to spot my pattern when I see it," said L'Ecuyer, a former home renovator.

He's hoping he can put them to use repairing his roof. Some of his neighbors swapped out their tiled roofs for cheaper materials after the tornado, he said. But L'Ecuyer, a fourth generation resident of the neighborhood, is determined to keep his.

L'Ecuyer's roofer estimated it would cost between $90,000 and $160,000. He's waiting on his insurer to decide whether it will pay. Meanwhile, he's looking for more tiles. 

"I'll take time I need to shop around and do it right," he said. "I have to try."