Copyright USGenNet Inc., 2016 All Rights Reserved USGenNet Data Repository Please read USGenNet Copyright Statement on this page: Transcribed and submitted by Linda Talbott for the USGenNet Data Repository http://www.us-data.org/ =========================================================================== Formatted by USGenNet Data Repository Chief Archivist, Linda Talbott All of the above information must remain when copied or downloaded. =========================================================================== Burning of the Newhall House Published by Bleyer Bros. Cramer, Aikens & Cramer, Printers - 1883 [6] BURNING OF THE NEWHALL HOUSE THE FIRE One the record book of the Central Fire Station the following entries were made on the 10th day of January, 1883: ALARM - Box No. 439, 3:47 A.M., corner of Nineteenth and Vliet streets. TELEPHONE ALARM - 4:05 A.M., Newhall House ALARM - Box No. 15, 4:08 A.M., Newhall House. Chief pulled in general alarm at 4:15 A.M., from Box No. 15. Location—Corner of Michigan and Broadway; six-story brick ; Newhall House Association, owners; J. F. Antisdel, occupant; business, hotel. This is the plain official record of the fire. All calls on the Fire Department are thus recorded, from the slightest blaze to the heavy conflagration. The first alarm called Engines No. 2 and No. 5, Hook and Ladder Truck No. 3, Supply Hose No. 1, and the Chemical Engine. Chief Lippert accompanied the apparatus. Assistant Engineer Black, who had intended to make a trip to Chicago on business, was at this time at the North-Western Railway depot, foot of Wisconsin street, awaiting the arrival of the train from the north. By a strange dispensation of Providence the train failed to appear on schedule time, and Mr. Black, while wrest- ling with impatience at the delay, heard the alarm from Box No. 15. This routed all thoughts of the train and Chicago, and sent Mr. Black into a hack nnd tlie hack to the Newhall House with all possible speed. Engine No. 1 and Hook and Ladder Truck No. 1 dashed out of the Central Station at the first alarm by telephone, and sped down Broadway towards Box 15. As the firemen left the house they could see the reflection of the fire against the buildings on the sides of Michigan street and Broadway opposite the Newhall House. Less than two minutes were consumed in the run to the scene, and yet when the firemen reached the hotel' the fright- ened guests had commenced to jump to the sidewalks from the upper windows, and flames were darting out through the windows on Michigan street near the corner of Broadway. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- [7] BURNING OF THE NEWHALL HOUSE Engine No. 1 took water from the hydrant on the corner of Michigan street and Broadway, opposite the hotel, while Truck No. 1 stopped in front of the building and sent in two hand chemical extinguishers to fight the flames, which appeared to be raging in the elevator shaft. Foreman Riemer, of Truck No. 1, accompanied the men with the extinguishers to take an observation. Water from the "chemicals" was turned upon the fire in the elevator shaft while Foreman Meminger, of Engine No. 1, was bringing in a line of hose from his engine. Riemer seized the first opportunity to thrust his head into the shaft and looked upward. The glance was sufficient; he saw the fire burning fiercely in the shaft as far up as the third story. He immediately cried out that the building was doomed, and ordered the "chemicals" back to the truck and the men to the ladders. Foreman Meminger, of Engine No. 1, remained in the elevator entrance with his pipemen until the position became untenable. He saw little of the horror of the fire, but had a narrow escape as he was running the hose through the doorway - a frenzied jumper from above striking the pavement near by. All this, of course, took less time than the telling, as moments were precious. The fire was now roaring to the roof and darting into the hallways, filling them with smoke. The first ladder placed against the burning building was one twenty feet long, which took men from Truck No. 1 to the first bal- cony with a ladder twenty-four feet long. The second ladder was raised from the balcony to the third story. On these two ladders, which together reached a distance of forty -four feet, seven persons were saved from different rooms in the third story. The fourth person who escaped on these ladders was a corpulent man who could not get over the edge of the window-sill to the first round of the ladder. The firemen lifted the base of the ladder to the top of the balcony rail and by great exertion held it there until the excited man passed down over it in safety. Work with the pair of ladders was then abandoned, and the extension ladder, with a reach of sixty-five feet, was brought into use from Truck No. 1. It was successfully sent up against the --------------------------------------------------------------------------- [8] BURNING OF THE NEWHALL HOUSE building and one man came down safely over it. An effort was then made to move the ladder over to Allen Johnson and his wife, who were standing in a window of one of their rooms, facing Broadway, imploring aid. The canvas to catch jumpers - fifteen feet square, with eight handles on each side - was also brought into use. In moving the ladder it was brought in contact with a projection of the building; the endless chain that works the extension jumped from the pinion and the upper section of the ladder came down with a crash. This hopelessly disabled it. While the first ladders were being raised, W. H. Hall, of Laporte, Ind., who occupied a room on the fourth floor adjoining that of Martin Weber, his partner in business, became excited at what seemed to him unconscionable delay and endeavored to climb down on the window-caps and sashes. He reached the window of the story below, but slipped and fell to the walk, receiving fatal injuries. Long before this, Chief Lippert, Assistant Black and the remain- der of the department had appeared on the scene and entered actively upon the work of rescue - a duty at that time paramount to all others. The engines of the department were stationed as fol- lows: No. 1, corner of Broadway and Michigan streets; No. 4, corner of East Water and Michigan streets; No. 6, corner of Wisconsin street and Broadway; No. 5, corner of Wisconsin and East Water streets; No. 2, foot of Michigan street, with suction from the river; No. 3, corner of Milwaukee and Michigan streets; No. 7, corner of Huron street and Broadway. The water that was being poured into the quivering heat through ten nozzles seemed a futile waste. Chief Lippert, however, was in duty bound to view the situation in all its phases. While the duty of life-saving held the first place, he had an eye on the vast furnace that was spangling the wings of the wind and showering brands of fire upon a large portion of Milwaukee. Unwilling to take a single chance, the prudent fireman telegraphed to Chicago and Racine for assistance, and also asked for the engine at the Soldiers' Home. Chicago and Bacine responded at once. Three steamers left Chicago at 5:50 A.M., Nos. 5, 10 and 14, together with two men each from Companies 1, 2 and 3, and 1.000 yards --------------------------------------------------------------------------- [9] BURNING OF THE NEWHALL HOUSE of extra hose. At Highland Park, about twenty-five miles north of Chicago, the relief train was countermanded by Chief Tippert, the fire having spent its strength in the Newhall House. The Racine relief train was also countermanded. Gen. Sharpe, commandant at the Soldiers' Home, did not send his engine, because the request was not signed by any one in authority. Foreman Michael J. Curtin, of Hook and Ladder Truck No. 2, observed the perilous situation of the Johnsons, and was on the point of returning to his truck for a ladder, when he was informed that the extension ladder belonging to Truck No. 1 was available. He assisted in raising it, and witnessed its disablement. At this time Mrs. Johnson jumped or fell, her body striking the balcony railing and dropping to the hard pavement. The unfortunate woman was carried into the American Express office, on the opposite side of the street, in a dying condition. Wm. Dodsworth, of the Express Company, secured a feather pillow and endeavored to make the poor woman as comfortable as the means at hand would permit. He placed the pillow under her head and threw his coat over her shoulders. As the coat touched her she raised her hands and pushed it off, saying, "It is too hot here," or words to that effect. These were the only words she spoke after the fatal jump. Mr. Johnson still stood in the window aw^aiting assistance. The pipeman of Engine No. 6 was directed to keep the fire away from the jeopardized man by sending a stream of water into the window, and over his body, if necessary. Foremen Curtin and Riemer begged Mr. Johnson not to jump, as another ladder would be brought to rescue him. The excited people below drowned the advice of the foremen with cries of "jump! jump!" and denunciation of the pipeman of Engine No. G, who was drenching Mr. Johnson. As Foreman Curtin, of Truck No. 2, turned to go for his extension ladder the poor man, who was now hanging outward against the north side of the window of his room, facing Broadway, relaxed his hold on the casing and jumped, striking the edge of the canvas which was spread below with such force that it was torn from the grasp of those who attempted to hold it, and Mr. Johnson struck --------------------------------------------------------------------------- [10] BURNING OF THE NEWHALL HOUSE the pavement heavily, receiving fatal injuries. He was carried to the American Express office and placed beside his wife, where he died while M. Dodsworth was endeavoring to relieve his suffering by tenderly chafing him. His body was then taken to Coates' bath-room, on Mason street, with that of Mrs. Johnson, in which life faintly lingered for about an hour. The express office proved a blessed haven for the half-clad refugees from the ruined hotel, and the injured and dying that were brought through its doors received unremitting attention from the kind-hearted Dodsworth. One of the injured girls brought into the express office was the heroic Kitty Linehan, chief laundress of the hotel. She had sacrificed her chances for escape in a brave effort to direct her frightened companions to the exits, and cut off from the avenues of escape she knew so well she was compelled to leap into the fatal canvas. When brought into the office the brave girl had strength enough to sit up, but she rapidly failed, and, after a few gasps, passed beyond the reach of pain. Mr. Dodsworth feels confident that she could have been saved if stimulants were at hand, as the physicians who examined her remains could find no marks that indicated mortal injury. After Mr. Johnson had made his fatal jump, Foreman Curtin, of Truck No. 2, turned towards the alley and was met by Wm. Linehan, fireman of the hotel, who implored him to bring ladders to the alley, as the hotel girls were jumping from their quarters in the fifth story. Foreman Curtin asked for and received assistance from Truck No. l,and the extension ladder was hurried to the alley. The scene that was presented to the firemen in that narrow corridor of death was a frightful one, and it was no wonder the brave men shrank for a moment at its portals. Foreman Curtin called to the girls to stay in the windows until he could reach them with the ladder. They begged him to hurry. Turning to his assistants, Foreman Curtin led the way into the jaws of death. Upon the cobble-stones in the alley lay the bodies of eleven girls, shockingly mangled. To enter this narrow place under the towering and dangerous wall of the hotel, with the dead and dying lying at one's feet, called --------------------------------------------------------------------------- [11] BURNING OF THE NEWHALL HOUSE for a display of true courage. The brave men entered with the ladder, but before they could use it Foreman Curtin discovered that a ladder which Foreman Eiemer, of Truck No. 1, had ordered across the alley from an opposite building, was successfully doing the work he was about to enter upon; he, therefore, relinquished work with the ladder and ordered the removal of the bodies of the poor girls. After this was accomplished good work was done with ladders of both trucks along the Michigan street front of the burning hotel. One ladder was placed against the fire-escape near the corner of Broadway, and another over the Michigan street entrance. Many people came down in safety over them. The extension ladder that brave Curtin's men had dragged up the alley in the shadow of death was not recovered. When all need of rescuers on the fronts of the building was over, Curtin returned to the alley with his men to recover it. But Providence interposed in their behalf, and prompted them to hesitate where they had before rushed in upon as ghastly a sight as ever man beheld. During this brief pause the hand of the same kind Providence decreed the fall of the rear wall of the now hollow shell of the Newhall House. Down it came with a thundering crash, burying the gory pavement and the ladder that had brought hope to the jeopardized girls under a heavy mass of broken brick and crumbled mortar. Hook and Ladder Truck No. 3 arrived from the Nineteenth street fire and did good service along the Broadway front, but the question of life or death was settled for most of the occupants of the building before it reached the scene. The noble work on the ladders spanning the alley will be found recorded under the heading "Heroes of the Fire." The work of the Truckmen is thus particularized because it was by far the most important at the fire. The question of extin- guishment, of course, entered into the fight, but the main object during the hour in which the immense hotel melted away was the saving of human life. The excitement of rescue was so absorbing that not one of those who were engaged in the noble work could tell exactly what had been accomplished even by themselves. So --------------------------------------------------------------------------- [12] BURNING OF THE NEWHALL HOUSE much had to be done in short order that there was Httle time for observation. While the busy rescuers were putting forth their best efforts, the frenzied guests and servants impatiently jumped to death on the cruel stones below. Their mangled bodies were hurried from under the walls by spectators and carried either into the American Express office or the Chamber of Commerce building, in the basement of which cots had been hurriedly set up. Some of the dead and injured were taken into Stanley & Camp's jewelry store, on the cor- ner of Wisconsin street and Broadway. The body of one poor girl was taken to a saloon on East Water street, a few doors north of Wisconsin, where it remained until morning, when it was removed to the morgue. D. G. Power, the well-known real estate agent and inventor, jumped or fell from his window in the sixth story, on the Michigan street side of the building, and was killed. He was burned about the head and face, which was evidence that he either attempted to escape by the hall and was driven back into his room, or that the fire invaded his chamber and scorched him out. His body was taken to the morgue, where it was claimed by his friends. Mr. Power had in his room a fire-escape of his own invention, but there was no evidence that he had even attempted to use it. T. E. Van Loon, a retired capitalist, formerly a resident of Albany, New York, occupied a room next to that of D. G. Power, on the sixth floor. He also jumped to death on the pavement. His body was found lying on the steps leading down to the Goetz barber-shop, in the basement of the hotel. Mr. Van Loon's remains were taken to the morgue, where they were claimed by a friend. About the time Allen Johnson and his wife jumped from their room on the fifth floor, John Gilbert, a brilliant actor, and his wife, who occupied a room on the same floor, on the Michigan street front, appeared at the window and jumped. Mrs. Gilbert was instantly killed; her husband was very badly injured, but he is now recovering. The tragic fate of this young couple was particularly sad. They were married in Chicago on the morn- --------------------------------------------------------------------------- [13] BURNING OF THE NEWHALL HOUSE ing previous to the fire, and came to Milwaukee to join the theat- rical troupe with which Mr. Gilbert was connected. Mrs. Gilbert's maiden name was Sutton. Previous to marrying Mr. Gilbert, Miss Sutton was engaged to a Louisville gentleman by the name of Por- teous, who went to her home in Canada at the appointed time to marry her, but, when there, found that she no longer loved him, but had given her affection to an actor. This new revelation produced a change in Mr. Porteous' affections, and he found himself enam- ored with her only sister, whom he soon after married, and, with his bride, went back to Louisville. His first affianced, no longer fettered by an engagement with him, soon after went to her new- found love, and they were married in Chicago, as has been stated. Mr. and Mrs. Porteous heard of the disaster, and seeing the name of Mrs. John Gilbert among the dead, suspected the worst, and came on to Milwaukee, where their sad conjectures were confirmed when they visited the morgue and found the remains of the one they had both loved so well. John Gilbert's real name is Donahoe. He was at one time a resident of Milwaukee. One of the most try- ing scenes occurred when Mrs. Anna Donahoe, mother of the actor, searched the morgue for her son's young wife. It was a pitiful sight—that of the aged, weeping woman kneeling in pools of blood, tenderly brushing back the hair from the pale, bloody foreheads of the dead girls, eagerly scanning every lineament of their faces, caressing the cold hands, examining the clothing upon the corpses, and striving in every way which suggested itself to her sorrowing heart to find some mark by which she might positively know her young daughter-in-law. "This is she," said Mrs. Donahoe, plaint- ively, as she looked intently upon the form of a girl who had already been identified as a servant in the hotel. "That is her hair, those her eyes, and the nose is like Gertrude's. No, no, it can't be her, though, for she had small hands and a bright, new wedding- ring." Twice, thrice, Mrs. Donahoe voiced the same certainty, then doubt, but at last she identified the same corpse which had been picked out by John R. Rogers, manager of the Minnie Palmer Company, as that of Mr. Gilbert's wife. This identification was strength- --------------------------------------------------------------------------- [14] BURNING OF THE NEWHALL HOUSE ened by the fact that upon this woman's finger was found a plain, gold band, new and untarnished - evidently the wedding-ring. This corpse had previously been claimed by the father of a missing girl who had been employed in the hotel, but Coroner Kuepper, after much questioning, came to the conclusion that it was Mrs. Gil- bert's body, and delivered it to her friends. T. B. Elliott, of the law firm of Jenkins, Elliott & Winkler, was the last arrival at the ill-fated hotel. He came in on a late train, and was shown to his room on the fifth floor, where he dozed off into a half slumber from which he was aroused by dense clouds of heated smoke. He started at once for a window and jumped, striking on the balcony and receiving fatal injuries. Detective McManus lowered him from the balcony, and Lieutenant Jansen, of the police force, took him to the Kirby House. Walter H. Scott, an employe in the general ticket oftice of the Chicago, Milwaukee & St. Paul Railway, who occupied a room next to Mr. Elliott's, jumped to the pavement and received injuries that caused his death in a short time. He died in the American Express office, whither he had been carried. Judson J. Hough, of Maroa, Ill., nephew of Allen Johnson, occupied a room on the fifth floor next to the Johnsons, on the Broadway front of the building, near the fatal elevator. When first observed from the street he was sitting astride the ornamental cap of the window of the fourth floor, just below his room, shielding his head and neck from the flames which were sweeping out of the apartment he had hastily deserted. Before an effort could be made in his behalf the fire broke through the glass of the window over which he was sitting and the cruel flames licked upward about his person, compelling him to let go. Mr. Hough dropped to the balcony, receiving fatal injuries. He was at first thought to be dead, and no effort was made to remove his body, as the living claimed all attention, but a moan from the sufferer attracted a fireman and Mr. Hough was taken from the balcony and removed to the Central Police Station, where he died. He was conscious when he arrived at the station, and sent for Alfred James, secretary of the --------------------------------------------------------------------------- [15] BURNING OF THE NEWHALL HOUSE Northwestern National Insurance Company, of which he was a special agent. Mr. James hastened to the station and remained with poor Hough to the end. Policemen inured to scenes of woe say that the most pathetic sight they ever witnessed was that of the dying man painfully syllabling the words "Ma-roa, wife, ba-by." The last thoughts of the departing soul were with loved ones whom it had left in the full tide of health, never to see again on the earthly side of the dark valley of death. E. Erickson and S. A. Grant, of Palmyra, Wis., had a thrilling escape from their rooms on the fourth floor. Mr. Erickson was awakened by the confusion in the hall. He jumped out of bed and called Mr. Grant, his room-mate, saying that the house was on fire, and opened the door to find the hall filled with hot air and a little smoke, with the fire about forty feet distant. Grant told Erickson to close the door while they dressed, as an escape through fire could be more successfully made while clothed with woolens. They both dressed, even putting on their overcoats, Erickson being cool enough to remember and secui-e $300 under his pillow. They then rushed to the window and called for help, which was not at hand. Looking down, Erickson saw the cast-iron cap on top of the window below, which projected outward and upward. The apex of this projection was only two feet below him. Holding fast to the window sash in his own room, which was the second room from the alley and fronting on Michigan street, in the fourth story, he stepped down on the iron cap, swung himself to the center of the window and broke it through with his feet, never letting go with one hand until the other was fast hold of something else. He then held fast to the center bar of the sash and dropped to the window sill, breaking the glass, grasping hold of the center bar of the sash until he could swing himself on to the next window cap, thus repeating the operation down three stories until he came to the dining-room on the second floor. Erickson made the descent from the dining-room by the aid of a table-cloth and the telegraph wires that entered the Mutual Union office in the basement of the hotel. Grant, instead of following Erickson, ran twenty or twenty-five feet --------------------------------------------------------------------------- [16] BURNING OF THE NEWHALL HOUSE in the hall, when he was driven back with scorched face and hands. He broke open the door of a room, rushed to the window, and called to Erickson, who directed him to descend as he was doing. Grant accepted his brave companion's advice and was saved. Gen. Tom Thumb and wife were rescued by Police Officer O'Brien, who awakened them by loud knocking at the door. The General arose and admitted the officer. They immediately looked about for means of egress. Officer O'Brien opened the window and a ladder was raised at once. The room was situated on the third floor, directly over the entrance on Michigan street. Gen. Thumb descended the ladder first, followed by the policeman with Mrs. Thumb in his arms. Sylvester Bleeker, manager of the Tom Thumb Company, and wife, occupied a room on the fourth floor directly over those occupied by Tom Thumb and wife. Mr. Bleeker tied strips of bed-clothes together, and began to lower his wife to the balcony below. She lost her hold and fell to the balcony, dislocating her left shoulder, breaking her left arm, dislocating her left hip and frac- turing her right leg, besides receiving numerous cuts about her body and face. She was taken into the room of Mr. and Mrs. Gen. Tom Thumb and from there lowered to the ground by means of a rope. Mr. Bleeker succeeded in climbing down also, and reached the sidewalk from the balcony over a ladder that had been raised for his rescue. Mrs. Bleeker's injuries proved fatal. Her real name was Groesbeck, Bleeker being a professional name. L. W. Brown and wife occupied a room on the fifth floor of the Broadway front, near the elevator, between the rooms occupied by J. J. Hough and Walter H. Scott. Mrs. Brown was awake and clothed at the time the fire was discovered, awaiting the hour of departure of an early train on which she intended to leave the city. Mr. Brown was still in bed. Mrs. Brown heard the alarm in the halls and fancied she could distinguish the peculiar roar of re- strained flames. She told her husband of her fears, but he merely placed his hand on the wall and jocularly remarked that heat was an accompaniment of fire, and that the wall was cold. The noise --------------------------------------------------------------------------- [17] BURNING OF THE NEWHALL HOUSE becoming greater each moment, Mrs. Brown prevailed on her husband to investigate the cause. He arose and opened the door, letting in a puff of smoke. The flames were then leaping a foot above tlie floor al^out the elevator shaft. Mr. Brown sprang back into the room and told his wife to prepare to leave the building, as it was on fire. He dressed in a hurried manner, and both attempted to leave the room. The flames, however, had so far progressed during the brief time it took Mr. Brown to clothe himself that escape by the hall was impossible. Tearing up the sheets and blankets Mr. Brown made a rope which he let down to the balcony. Tying the hastily improvised life line to a sewing machine, Mr. Brown endeav- ored to persuade his wife to lower herself to the balcony, three stories below, but she was afraid to trust herself on the frail looking rope. In order to assure her of its strength, Mr. Brown swung out and reached the balcony in safety, his wife promising him that in the event of his success she would follow immediately. While Mr. Brown was swinging in mid-air on the perpendicular wall of the building a dark body shot swiftly by him; it flashed through his mind that his wife had jumped. On reaching the balcony Brown inquired for the woman who had jumped or fallen. The firemen told him that no woman had thus escaped. Mr. Brown then made frantic efforts to find his wife, but failed. It subsequently transpired that the poor woman had jumped or fallen as her husband suspected, and that lier body had been hurried to the morgue, where it was recognized on the following day. W. R. Busenbark, of Chicago, roomed on the fourth floor, Michi gan street front, with W. C. Wiley, of Detroit, who had come to Mil- waukee with him to establish an office for the Michigan Central Railway. They were awakened by the roar of the fire, the all-per- vading smoke and the confusion in the hall. Mr. Wiley dashed out in the hall in a wild endeavor to escape, and was seen no more. Mr. Busenbark, finding escape by the hall impossible, turned to the window, and seeing the telegraph wires stretched between him and the hard pavement made a sprawling jump for them. He struck upon the wires, which in their recoil threw him off and he --------------------------------------------------------------------------- [18] BURNING OF THE NEWHALL HOUSE fell to the street, severely injuring his back. Mr. Busenbark also received a number of bad cuts from the wires. The most appalling sight witnessed during the disastrous confla- gration was the death of Miss Libbie A. Chellis, head dressmaker in T. A. Chapman's dry goods store. She occupied a room on the Broadway front of the sixth floor, near the corner of Michigan street. When the building was seething with fire she appeared at her window and sank upon her knees, as if invoking Divine aid in the supreme hour of peril. Her friends on the street instantly recognized her and begged her to jump. She made no effort what- ever, but maintained her supplicating position until the flames curled about her and bore her backward upon the gigantic funeral pyre. A thrill of horror swept through the witnesses of this crown- ing scene in the vast panorama of death. The good work performed by the Truckmen with their ladders was supplemented by heroic efforts on both facades of the burning hotel by volunteers, who chose noble work instead of surrendering to idle curiosity. One of these noble men, Oscar Kleinsteuber, an attache of the Police Department, climbed up the Broadway side of the building on the Benner fire escape, and rushing into the hall- ways, called to those groping about in the blinding smoke. His efforts were rewarded by the saving of a number of lives, at a time when the bare thought of ascending the threatening walls appalled many a stout heart. The corridors of the building w^ere at that time filled with smoke and flame that swept through them like fire through a chimney flue, driving the victims to the windows, and, in a number of instances, claiming the unfortunates in plain sight of the palsied multitude in the street. In the alley, where the brave Truckmen made such heroic rescues, the scene before their appearance was one of blood-curdling agony. Long before the fire appeared in their rooms the frenzied girls connnenced their terrible leaps to certain death. Their ears seemed closed against all appeals from their friends below, who saw no reason for the bloody sacrifice. One after another they hur- riedly jumped, until eleven of them lay weltering in gore upon the --------------------------------------------------------------------------- [19] BURNING OF THE NEWHALL HOUSE cold stone pavement in the alley. Those who saw the forms of the girls dart downward and heard the sickening concussion as they struck, will never be able to efface the scene from the tablets of memory. When so much was enacted before the multitude, on the outer walls of the building, and so little remembered in detail, owing to the attendant confusion, what can be accurately given of the pan- demonium that prevailed in the halls of the hotel when the lights had been extinguished by the smoke, and the bewildered victims were rushing hither and thither, blindly hoping for accidental escape, and gasping for the breath of life. From the glowing core of the fire, the elevator shaft, the flames swept outward and upward with withering fervency. The very air throughout the house seemed to yield up its elements to combustion. The heat was so intense that the few who escaped were painfully burned by the hot blasts in the halls where the flames had not yet reached. Away up in the sixth story along the north wall, with windows opening above the roof of Sherman's photograph gallery, roomed James McAlpine, Andrew Hardy and J. R. Duval. Mr. Hardy instinctively awoke when the fire was in full sway. He felt the danger that was at that very moment closing about him and his companions. Jumping from his bed, he hailed Mr. McAlpine, telling him the house was burning, at the same time striking a match and lighting the gas. Before they could fully realize their position the rushing heat forced in the transom and instantly the thick smoke put out the gas. They both sprang for the window, which they crushed out, and just as the hot air was overpowering them they sank outward and fell to the roof, some distance below, where they were restored to sensibility by Mr. Duval, who had preceded them to the roof. The only occupants of rooms on the sixth floor who escaped, besides the three just mentioned, were Ben. K. Tice, chief clerk, and Patrick Conroy and Thomas Cleary, bell-boys. Mr. Tice says he was awakened by an indescribable sensation. His room was rapidly filling with smoke, and on opening the door to the hallway black masses of suffocating smoke pressed into the apart- --------------------------------------------------------------------------- [20] BURNING OF THE NEWHALL HOUSE merit. He immediately started for the hose near by to fight the fire, but as he rushed through the hall the hot air scorched and burned him. He attempted to arouse Messrs. Van Loon, Power and Reed, and Miss Chellis, but failed on account of the overpow- ering heat. Two of the bell-boys were shouting for help, and Mr. Tice called to them to follow him, but they ran in an opposite direction, while Mr. Tice went to the window at the end of the hall next the alley, broke it out, went down the ladder built on the side of the building, and dropped to the roof of the bridge beween the hotel and the bank building. As he reached this point he heard some one attempting to open the door on the fifth floor of the hotel leading to the bridge. Breaking in the door he found Lizzie Anglin and carried her to the roof of the bank build- ing. Lizzie then called for Mollie Connors, her room-mate, and Mr. Tice returned for her; but as the flames were pouring furiously from the door and window from which they had just escaped, Mollie's rescue was an impossibility. Mr. Tice broke a window in the roof of the bank building and took Miss Anglin, who was fatally burned, to a hallway below, where clothing was furnished him. He attempted to enter upon further work of rescue, but the intense heat through which he passed had so roasted his hands and face that he was compelled to desist. Mr. Tice claims that he was not touched by fire and that the burns he received painfully illus- trated the terrible heat in the upper corridors of the ill-fated hotel. The servants' quarters in the Newhall were on the fifth floor, and ranged along the alley side of the building, from a point about twenty feet north of Michigan street to a point about twenty feet south of the north end of the building, and the rooms were built along a hall which ran north and south and at each end was totally separated from the guests' apartments by heavy doors. The rescued girls say that the first they knew of the fire was when Linehan, the engineer, awakened them with orders to run out and follow him, without waiting to dress. Linehan says the hall swarmed with girls after he gave the alarm, and thinking they would follow him, --------------------------------------------------------------------------- [21] BURNING OF THE NEWHALL HOUSE as he directed, he rushed down stairs to find that only one had obeyed his instructions. Mary Gavin, who escaped across the alley on the ladder raised by the heroic firemen, says she was awakened by screams in the hallway. She aroused her room-mate and they ran into the hall, which was full of smoke and very hot. They all ran toward the south end of the hall which opened upon a staircase, but were driven back by smoke and heat. The air was suffocatingly hot, and some of the girls fainted. A number of them went to the rooms facing the alley and broke out windows to get air. Men could be seen below, looking up, but nobody seemed to be doing anything toward their rescue. "The smoke grew thicker and the air hotter," said Miss Gavin. "I supposed the other girls were standing up behind me. As nobody said anything I looked around, but the smoke was so thick I could not see anybody. I went to the door and looked out into the hall and could see no one. It seemed as if I was alone in the building. I turned to go back to the window to breathe and as I did so I fell over something. I felt around on the floor and found all the girls who had been with me lying there, seeming to be suffocated. I got back to the window and called to the men below to do something. I could see girls jumping out of other windows or hanging to the window sills till they fell dead to the ground below. Suddenly men on the roof of a building across the alley put a ladder across to my window and called to me to go over. I stooped down and tried to wake the other girls, but they did not stir. Then a man came across the ladder and took up one of the girls and carried her across. Then I went over and the men carried some of the others out." Mary McCauley, who was also saved by the brave firemen, over the ladder bridge, says: "I was awakened by the shouts and screams of the others and ran into the hall. It was full of the girls rushing wildly up and down, crying and screaming. I rushed to the end of the hall, peeped through the door and saw everything was smoke and fire outside. I then ran back, and passing a room --------------------------------------------------------------------------- [22] BURNING OF THE NEWHALL HOUSE where seven girls had taken refuge, joined them and we all knelt in prayer. One of the girls had a crucifix and a stoat woman prayed out loud. Just as we had given up all hope the window crashed in our room and I fainted. It so happened the firemen with the ladder had found our room out of thirty others, and we, with a few others, were saved." Orange Williams, of Janesville, had a room on the Broadway front of the fifth floor. The noise in the hall and on the street roused him from deep sleep to face a double danger. The hall was filled with smoke that was stifling, and the heat was intense. He went to the window and stood on the casing, looking down upon the exciting spectacle. On calling for help, he was informed by some one on the walk that there was a fire-escape on the wall a short distance, from him, toward Wisconsin street. Mr. Williams re-entered his room and went out in the hail, where the screams and moans of the panic-stricken and dying appalled him. He groped along the smoky hallway, stumbling over a fallen victim in his course, and finally reached the escape. J. C. Clark, of Wausau, roomed on the fourth floor on the Broadway side. He heard the confusion and roar in the hallway, but did not leave his room until he had dressed himself, coolly lighting the gas for that purpose. He had been a guest of the Newhall at various times, and had familiarized himself with the exact location of the fire-escapes. When Mr. Clark left his room he crawled along the hallway until he arrived at the window leading to the escape. This he broke, and mounting the ladder lowered himself to the balcony, entered the office and escaped to the street. T. J. Anderson, of Chicago, was aroused by the shrieking of the terrified inmates. He was in the corner room on the fourth floor. On opening the door the smoke and blaze poured in. He perceived that escape by the regular course through the corridors was impos- sible, but managed to open a window near the Benner fire-escape, on the Michigan street side, where he irresolutely stood in the heat, calling for help. Detective McManus entreated him to come down --------------------------------------------------------------------------- [23] BURNING OF THE NEWHALL HOUSE the fire-escape, which he finally did; while McManus was after a short ladder to take him from the last rounds of the escape, one story above the walk, Anderson became impatient and slid down the stand pipe connected with the escape, reaching the walk all right. The only garment he had on was a gauze shirt. John L. Kellogg, traveling freight agent of the Chicago, Milwau- kee & St. Paul Railroad, had a room on the third floor, about the center of the Broadway front of the hotel. He was awakened by a piece of hot glass from the transom window falling upon him. Hastily dressing himself he tore his sheets and blankets into strips and made a rope. With this he lowered Miss Warren, of the Tom Thumb troupe, to the balcony; he followed her and both were saved. Of all the guests who escaped from the Newhall House with their lives none suffered such injury from running the gauntlet of the flames as did William E. Cramer, the veteran editor and proprietor of The Evening Wisconsin, and his good wife. They occupied a suite of rooms in the southeast corner of the building, on the floor above the office. Mrs. Cramer awoke with the noise of the flames as they roared and crackled in the elevator shaft—diagonally opposite the sleeping-room - filling her ears. She sprang out of bed, hastily opened the door, saw the fire in the shaft and smoke in the hall. Beyond the roar of the flames she heard no unusual sounds, and saw no one moving; the hallways were deserted, and the occupants of rooms opening into them apparently remained ignorant of the terrible danger that confronted them. She awakened her husband and informed him of the fire and the imperative necessity of moving toward the street without waiting to dress. He seemed loth to move thus, but she dragged him into and across the hall to the south staircase. Huge tongues of flame were then darting from the shaft, and a portion of the stairway was on fire. Placing her- self between him and the flames, she led him past them and down the stairs to the office floor below. There the elevator shaft was safely passed, and after waiting on the landing and in the glass lobby facing Broadway for some minutes, she asked a policeman --------------------------------------------------------------------------- [24] BURNING OF THE NEWHALL HOUSE to call a hack. This was done, and by her direction she and her husband were conveyed to the Plankinton House. It was not until both were ready to leave the hotel that Mr. and Mrs. Cramer dis- covered that they had suffered injury from the fire. And yet both were terribly burned about the lower limbs, shoulder, neck, face, and head. The marble tiling of the office floor in front of the shaft was so heated that it burned and blistered their feet. At this writing the injured couple are slowly recovering. W. F. Schmidt was awakened from a sound sleep in his room on the fourth floor. For an instant he was terror-stricken. The room was filled with smoke, on the wall was the flickering reflec- tion of fire, and the roaring of the consuming element could be heard above the frantic shrieks that resounded through the house. Recovering from the terror t!:at possessed him, and fully realizing his danger, he jumped from the bed, and hastily pulling on a pair of pants, fled from the room. On opening the door he encountered a thick cloud of smoke and was for a moment stifled. The hallway was very dark, and from the swirling blackness came groans of anguish and unearthly yells of despair. He advanced into the cor- ridor, and a crowd of hurrying people hustled him from one side to the other. Mr. Schmidt said the desperate people, transformed into maniacs, were hurling themselves against the walls and fall- ing dazed to the floor. Others tramped over prostrate forms on the floor in their endeavor to find an exit from the hallway. Mr. Schmidt, in his haste to find the stairway, struck his head sharply against a door or casement and became unconscious. When he recovered his senses he was seated on the floor. The intense heat had singed his hair and blistered his ears and nose. For sev- eral moments he groped helplessly in the darkness and finally, despairing of being saved, prepared to meet his fate. Suddenly some one grasped his hand firmly and pulled him along, shouting, "This way, this way!" Another person caught his other hand and the trio rushed onward. At last they reached the stairway. The story below was brightly illuminated. They rushed, half tumbling, down the staircase, and in the passage below saw a woman curled --------------------------------------------------------------------------- [25] BURNING OF THE NEWHALL HOUSE up on the lioor. "Don't step on her!" said Mr. Schmidt's conduc- tor, "she is dead!" In this way they reached the boiler-room and made their escape into the alley. Mr. Schmidt's rescuer was the heroic Wm. Linehan, engineer of the hotel, who, from the first dis- covery of the fire until all hope of further rescue had fled, devoted himself to the work of life-saving with all the energy that he could summon. The woman Mr. Schmidt saw lying in death-like stupor on the floor was an employe of the hotel whom Linehan had rescued. She was afterwards resuscitated. M. Moran, of Beloit, Wis., occupied a room on the third floor, opening on the court. He was awakened by hearing a crashing noise. Supposing it was the pantry girls throwing the dishes around at breakfast time, he lay in bed several moments. Suddenly he heard cries of "Murder!" "Fire!" and shrieks of frightened women. He jumped out of bed and opened the door. The draft was such that the door was slammed in his face and the room was filled with smoke. He grabbed his clothes and rushed out. While running down the hall he stumbled and fell over the body of a woman. She was unconscious, and another woman was lying beside her. They were both in front of the room adjoining his. Two other women were rushing up and down the hall crying in despair. Moran caught one of them by the arm and dragged her to the end of the hall. She there broke away from him and rushed back into the burning building. There was a sheet of flame across the end of the hall, but Moran heard a man calling from the other side: "Come through, it is only two feet deep." He rushed through the flames, still clinging to his clothes, and got out of the building. Samuel Martin occupied a room on the third floor, his window opening on the court. When awakened by the noise and smoke he seized his pants and rushed into the hall. Looking down the hall he saw a sheet of flame rushing along like a prairie fire. He was so utterly bewildered that when he escaped he could not tell how he got into the only garment he had saved. As Mr. Martin dashed toward the alley before the advancing flames, a man --------------------------------------------------------------------------- [26] BURNING OF THE NEWHALL HOUSE sprang out of a room and fell prostrate. Moved by a strange impulse, Mr. Martin entered a room, seized a sheet and threw it over the fallen man. A thinly-clad woman then appeared and over her shoulders Mr. Martin threw a blanket. He then seized a blanket himself and rushed down the servant's stairs to the alley. He proceeded to the Kirby House, where, to his astonishment, he found the man upon whom he had thrown the sheet sitting in the office with the self-same sheet over his shoulders. J. W. Maxwell, of Chicago, had a thrilling escape. He occupied an inside room on the third floor, near the elevator. He had been filled with strange forebodings during the night, and his slumber in consequence was uneasy. He awoke to see the flames darting in over the transom of his room. The smoke in the hallway was very heavy; through it came the groans and shrieks of the unfortunates who were wrapped in its stifling folds. The horrid delusions of Maxwell's broken sleep were now equaled, but it took a mouthful of the stifling smoke and a coughing spell to awaken him to a full realization of his situation. He endeavored to unlock his door to get out in the hallway, but the key broke off in the lock. He tried to turn the stump but did not succeed. In his desperation Maxwell seized the knob of the door and wrenched it off. Finding escape by the door impossible he turned to the window, ripped out the sash and dropped to the roof of the court, a few feet below. He ran along the roof, in the glare of the fire, amid falling sparks, to another window, which he entered. The door of the room was locked. Maxwell climbed back into the court and tried another room, without success. Returning to the court, which was now a picture of hell, he ran from room to room until he found one with the door open. Crawling on hands and knees through the hall he succeeded in making his escape. C. W. Briggs, of Grand Rapids, Wis., slept in a room on the third floor opening on tlie court. The breaking of glass by the heat and the draft through the hall awakened him. He seized his clothing and rushed out into the smoke. A wall of flame barred progress in the direction in which he at first ran, and he was com- --------------------------------------------------------------------------- [26] BURNING OF THE NEWHALL HOUSE pelled to double on his tracks and seek egress in the opposite direction. A stupor seized him and it was only by determined effort that he could shake it off. Fortunately he reached the stairway, the first flight of which he blindly traversed. He fell at the head of the second flight and Avent to the bottom, receiving severe bruises. Mr. Briggs' escape was an extremely narrow one. Emil Flesh escaped from his room on the third floor, on the Broadway side, by making a rope out of his blankets. He says that when he awoke his room was literally filled with rats, which were scampering around the floor. To more fully illustrate the horror of the situation on the upper floors during the fire, the graphic statement of Edward P. Haff, of New York, who occupied a room on the third floor, on Michigan street, adjoining the alley, is given. Mr. Haff says: "A terrible sen- sation of a crushing weight upon my chest awoke me, and I lay for a moment dazed and half smothered, and heard a clock strike four. The thick smoke in the room was stifling, and groping to the door I opened it. The rush of flame and heated air, not smoke alone, but scorching, burning air, met me, taking away my breath, and well nigh my senses. A reeling form, with hair and whiskers burned from the face, and eyebrows gone, staggered toward me with wide- open mouth, gasping for breath. From the parched throat came inarticulate moans. I pulled him into the room, closed the door, and tried to open the window. It was locked. I broke a pane of glass and caught a whiff of God-given air. By the light of the burning building I could see the telegraph wires twenty feet away and half resolved to jump. My companion in the room revived a little, and said he had come from No. 221, only four rooms distant, and yet he had nearly perished in making the jour- ney. His name was Mahoney, and he was from Rock Island." After measuring the chances of escape by jumping or by a dash through the hall, Mr. Haff and Mr. Mahoney chose the latter method and prepared for the effort. Mr. Haff thus tells of the escape: "Covering our faces so as to breathe as little of the torrid air as possible, we again opened the door and ran along the --------------------------------------------------------------------------- [28] BURNING OF THE NEWHALL HOUSE hallway toward the alley. We met a young woman staggering through the smoke and groping along the walls, apparently blinded or dazed. As she was almost naked, I caught up a couple of sheets, threw them around her, and tried to lead her with me. She was hopelessly frightened, however, and could only moan: 'My God! My God! I can't!' She finally fell into an open doorway, and I left her lying across the threshold. My companion and I crossed the bridge into the bank building, and descended to the ground." An hour after the discovery of the fire the towering walls of the hotel simply bounded a huge furnace, that sent upward immense clouds of vapor and smoke. Into the quivering heat of the inner ruin the Fire Department continued to pour water from seven engines; nothing more could be done. At 5:30 o'clock the Broad- way wall of the ruined structure bulged out and fell to the pavement with a thundering crash, followed shortly after by a portion of the Michigan street wall, near Broadway. About this time a piece of the cornice and a mass of brick fell from the top of the Michigan street wall, near the alley, where Ben. Van Haag, first pipeman of Supply Hose No. 2 was holding a nozzle with a companion and directing a stream of water into the ruins. Seeing the falling mass they beat a hasty retreat; but Van Haag was not swift enough. The rubbish struck the telegraph wires and broke a large pole into several pieces, one of which felled Van Haag to the frozen earth. He was at first thought to be fatally injured, but he rallied from the effects of the shock and recovered. This was the only serious injury suffered by a fireman during the battle with the consuming element. The fire had now burnt itself out, but its glowing embers required constant attention. The inner ruin was a fervent crucible, in which was being reduced to ashes the remains of over two score of human beings who less than two hours before were slumbering in blissful ignorance of their impending fate. The blow was almost as swift as the flash of steel; and, although the end of the doomed was frightful to contemplate, their friends can spare themselves the harrowing thought that they suffered the pangs of --------------------------------------------------------------------------- [29] BURNING OF THE NEWHALL HOUSE slow death by fire, as the evidence of survivors proves conclusively that the dark angel's summons came through a cloud of smoke that brought with it the boon of unconsciousness. Fireman, police- man and citizen had braved death in the work of rescue, but Fate had willed that their efforts should prove futile. Mistakes were, undoubtedly, made in the excitement of the hour; the fire- fighters were more than human had their work been perfect. The consuming element had the mastery from the start, and its work was accomplished with such appalling swiftness that nerves of steel were for the nonce untempered. Criticism cannot restore the dead, neither will it prevent like occurrences under like circum- stances. =========================================================================== If you've reached this file through a SEARCH, you can access more of our growing collection of FREE online information by going to the following URL: http://www.us-data.org/ ===========================================================================