History of the Great Chicago Fire, October 8, 9, and 10, 1871 / Goodsell, James H.

A COMPREHENSIVE ACCOUNT OF THE CONFLAGRATION.

IT was at 9.45 o'clock on Sunday night, October 8, when the bell sounded the alarm from box 342, for a fire which proved to be the most disastrous in the world's history. Flames were discovered in a small stable in the rear of a house on the corner of De Koven and Jefferson streets.

Hardly had the first alarm sounded when it was followed by another from the same box, and this in turn by a third, or general alarm, which summoned to that vicinity every available steam engine in the city.

THE WIND

was blowing a perfect gale from the south-southwest. With terrible effect the flames leaped around in mad delight, and seized upon everything combustible. Shed after shed went down, and dwelling houses followed in rapid succession. Block after block gave way, and family after family were driven from their homes. The fire department were powerless to prevent the spreading of the calamity.

At first it was one structure on fire; then another and another were swallowed up in a whirlpool of flames, until finally it was blocks and blocks of buildings which were going down, like grass before the scythe. For upward of fifteen weeks there had been no heavy rains, and the wooden walls were dry like unto tinder in that portion of the doomed city. In vain the firemen fiercely fought the approach of the conflagration. In vain were fences and small houses hurled to the ground. In vain did the vast crowd rush hither and thither trying to save the entire west side. Onward stalked the fiery flame and red-hot air which caused all to flee from before its scorching blasts.

With the heat increased the wind, which came howling across the prairie, until at last there arose a perfect hurricane. Mighty flakes of fire, hot cinders, black, stifling smoke, were driven fiercely at the people, and amid the terrible excitement hundreds of them had their very clothes burned off their backs, as they stood there watching with tearful eyes the going down of so many houses.

When the flames had crossed over to Clinton street, between Ewing and Forquar streets, there were left probably half-a-dozen houses which

seemed to have been forgotten in the excitement of the moment. But they were not permitted to escape the awful flames. Backward swept the red demon, silently and softly, but swift enough to elude all pursuit, and before the terror-stricken multitude could prevent, all these frame buildings were burned to the ground.

The wind continued its roaring fierceness, and house after house was burned. To the left the fire spread forth its heat like the leaves of a fan until all of the eastern side of Jefferson street was enveloped in the furnace. To the right it had been driven with great fierceness, and Clinton street and Canal street and Beach street, and then the railroads which run along the western shore of the south branch were in its grasp. Now was the fire at its fiercest. Upward of 20 blocks were burning. Upward of 1,500 buildings, including outhouses, were on fire. Upward of 500 families were fleeing from the seeming wrath to come. The streets were almost impassable. Carriages, and wagons, and drays and carts, and all sorts of vehicles were brought into requisition, and were speedily loaded with household goods. Empty wagons were filled with freight, and where there were no beasts of burden to draw the load, human hands sprang to the rescue and dragged the property toward the north. Then the fire reached over the street, and while that terrible southwestern wind howled onward, it forced its way into the planing mills and the chair factories, and all the other shops which skirted the creek in that portion of west Chicago. Then it got into the lumber yards and into the railroad shops, and the round houses were soon wrapped in its dead embrace. The bricks themselves seemed only additional fuel. The rolling stock in the railroad yards seemed but a bit of kindling which helped along a fire already fiercely intense.

But worst of all the elevators were next in danger. For a few moments it seemed as though one or two of the largest would resist the flames and pass through the fire ordeal unscathed. But this thought was not of long duration, for an instant later and the immense piles were in flames from top to bottom.

Like the advance of a great army the fire moved forward in several columns, and like a powerless but unconquered foe the fire department slowly retreated. But they stubbornly contested every foot of ground and would not surrender, although often almost entirely surrounded by the dread enemy. Then they would cut their way out and retreat for a short distance, only to turn again and hurl their charges of thousands of gallons of water full into the face of the enemy. But no power on earth could stem the torrent. Never did firemen fight more fiercely to conquer, and never before did their heroic efforts seem so utterly in vain.

Suddenly away to the north and east, fully five blocks distant, a small flame broke forth and lighted up the already brilliant heavens. The sight sent an awful shudder to the soul of every man, woman and child who saw it. For a moment every one was spellbound and speechless.

Just where it was, the newly discovered fire, was as yet unknown, but it seemed to be in the neighborhood of the South Side gas works, and there was no one in all that vast concourse of people, but who knew the great danger which was already threatening the other side of the river. Every moment witnessed an increase in the blaze, and presently the outlines of the immense reservoir told the story of its immediate vicinity. The fire marshal at once sent every available engine to the south side, and prepared to follow with the remainder immediately. But the flames mounted higher and the fire grew fiercer, and spread itself out in all directions, until it was impossible to stay its further progress.