Chapter III: The Start

The fire started a little before eleven on Sunday morning, April 12, 1908. Its origin will probably never be positively known. The most plausible theory, however, is that the roof of a building of the Boston Blacking Company, which is located just off Summer Street, close to the Everett line, in the extreme western part of the city, caught fire from a burning pile of rags on the dump to the windward. At all events, the flames were first seen just before eleven o’clock licking up this inflammable building with its contents of oil, and sending a shower of sparks blown by a forty-mile gale towards the heart of the city, and an alarm was at once sent in.

Immediately upon his arrival Fire Chief Spencer ordered a second alarm sounded as a matter of precaution, owing to the high wind. The firemen did good work and soon had the initial blaze well in check, as is shown by the fact that the remaining buildings of this company close by were saved.

Soon after the second alarm was sounded the firemen and spectators were astonished to see the three-story rag-shop of T. Lewitzky & Son, fully two blocks away, burst into flames. Apparatus to successfully fight its burning was not available. It was this fire that doomed Chelsea, for sparks from it started fires in several directions.

Opposite Lewitzky’s factory was the tar paper factory of Chapin & Sawdin. The fierce heat from the tar paper drove the firemen back. A shed containing a large quantity of gasoline near by soon caught fire and blew up, just after a man, who was trying to save it, was ordered off by the police. This explosion set fire to houses in the vicinity, which were principally of old-fashioned wooden construction, and allowed the fire to get such impetus that it spread out diagonally across the wind like a fan. When it reached Everett Avenue on the north and set fire to Justin S. Perkins’ hay shed it looked as if nothing could save the Standard Oil Station, not over two hundred feet to the windward. “Cy” Coben was showing his nerve by sticking to his plant, but it was to the Malden firemen that Chelsea people are indebted for the saving of the northern section of the city. They arrived just in the nick of time and without thought of their personal safety, or of the awful result if the thousands of gallons of naphtha blew up, stuck by and saved the building.

If this plant had burned the exploding oil would have set fire to the great building of the Eastern Storage Company across the railroad track, and nothing could have prevented it making a clean sweep of Caryville, increasing the burned area by at least one hundred acres.

As it was, the fire did not cross the tracks until an hour later, and then there was enough apparatus to extinguish it. After once getting hold of the little buildings on Maple Street, the flames almost simultaneously laid relentless hold of wooden buildings on all the surrounding streets. It raced down Summer, West Third, and Elm streets to Arlington Street, burning everything on Spruce Street and Everett Avenue.

Although it took but a short time for the fire to reach and burn the city stables, through the energy of City Engineer O’Brion all of the horses, carts, harnesses, tools, etc., were saved, which was fortunate, as it enabled the city to set large numbers of unemployed to work the next day cleaning the streets.

Before this time assistance had been asked of Boston, Everett, Revere, Lynn, Winthrop, Cambridge, Malden, Medford, and Melrose, and the engines soon began to arrive; but from the moment the fire crossed Arlington Street there was no formidable stand made against it, as it spread so rapidly under the impulse of the gale and stretched out over so long a front, backed by acres of lurid flames.

Not till it actually passed Arlington Street did people have any apprehension that it would not be stopped at this line, where the houses were of substantial brick construction. Ash Street, next to Arlington, was soon blazing and spreading the fire towards the railroad track in one direction, and Second Street in the other. The people on Walnut Street, next beyond, began moving out, and soon Union Park, near by, was filled with household goods. Women with babies in their arms stood huddled in the smoke, old men stood guard over the few things they had saved, and crying children hunted in vain for their parents. All the section about Walnut Street was inhabited by poor people with large families; Jews predominated, but all nations were represented. Many could not speak English, and panic seized all.

It seems as if every one tried first to save a mattress, which would become ignited before it was carried a block, and add to the volume of the flames. The yards and open spaces were strewn with old bedding and other inflammable material, which assisted in spreading the fire. Trunks and other heavy things were dropped from upper windows, regardless of those beneath. In some cases men and women fought as to what they would save, while their houses burned. One man loaded a team with old junk; some women cried and refused to look at the flames, others were hysterical and looked and laughed. Many Jewish women carried live hens in their arms. All fled towards the park, but this haven of refuge was only temporary, for soon the suffocating smoke drove them out, and a few minutes later the flames destroyed most of the property laboriously removed from the houses. From here people dragging little ones or some article of furniture made for the railroad station, with the flames in close pursuit.

While the human beings were having such a hard time of it, dogs and cats were also having their sufferings. Looking out into Walnut Street one dog was seen, that had once been black, rushing madly about; its hide had been singed to a crisp, and when last seen it was headed right into the flames. On many streets dogs, cats, and hens were found after the fire, burned to death, and many horses also perished, as more would have, but for heroic work. In one instance Frank W. Wentworth, with some help, saved nineteen horses from a burning building by covering their eyes with blankets.

Huntington Smith of the Animal Rescue League estimates that as many as two thousand cats were burned to death. He says that these figures are conservative, and gives as the reason their devotion to their homes; dogs, on the other hand, are more devoted to their masters, whom they followed, and for this reason very few perished.

From Walnut Street the fire leaped across Fifth and entered the windows of the new Jewish synagogue and literally lapped it up, and then hurled itself against the imposing brick walls of the Central Congregational Church at the corner of Fifth and Walnut streets. This church is one of the largest in the city, yet the flames took but a few moments to go from the basement up through the immense auditorium into the tower. While these buildings were burning the fire had destroyed on the other side of the city and at intermediate places the African Methodist Church, two Jewish synagogues, one on Walnut Street and one on Fourth Street, the Williams School, the Universalist Church and the Polish Church on Chestnut Street, and was headed straight for Broadway.

The Universalist Church caught first in the steeple, as did most of the churches. It burned very slowly, but finally the great golden cross fell with a crash into Fourth Street. After this the pastor, Rev. R. Perry Bush, went in by a back way and up into the pulpit to take a last look at the familiar scene which was so dear to him. In a lecture which he afterwards gave he described his feelings very dramatically, and said that he stood in the pulpit until the church was filled with smoke and the flames broke through the big stained glass window, then saying, “Good-by, dear old church,” he went as he came.

The deacons had saved the communion service and had loaded a team with other church property, including valuable books and documents. On top of these they piled many pew cushions,--a fatal error. To quote Dr. Bush, “Do not ever try to save cushions under such conditions; if we hadn’t tried to, we would have our books and papers to-day.” The cushions caught fire before they had been taken two blocks and were instrumental in setting fire to several wooden houses in the vicinity of Chestnut Street and Washington Avenue.

Chestnut Street was, until a few years ago, one of the best streets in the city, and parts of it were still considered very nice. Among the prominent people still living on the street was Dr. J. B. Fenwick, whose wife lost her life in the fire, together with her niece, Mrs. Walter C. Barnes, of New York, and Elvina Boyn, Mrs. Fenwick’s maid. Mrs. Fenwick was prominent in Chelsea, being a member of the School Board and an active member of the Woman’s Club.

It is not known how the women met their death, but it is believed they left the house by the rear door, as the street in front was thick with smoke and flying fire brands. They may have first turned up Cherry Street, a narrow street which ran past the rear of their house, and been stopped by the falling tower of the Polish Church. This would have caused them to return towards Fourth Street. At about this time Granite Block on Broadway, directly back of which their bodies were found, was dynamited in an attempt to stop the conflagration, and the women probably took shelter in the porch of the building where their bodies were found, and were overcome by smoke.

Dr. George Fenwick, the son, has told friends that the last he saw of them was on the second floor of his home. As he was going to his room on the third floor Mrs. Barnes stopped him and handed him a wet towel to put over his face. The house had not yet caught fire, but the windows were cracked and broken by the heat from the fires across the street, and the building was full of smoke. He says he was not in his room over five minutes collecting his valuables. When he returned downstairs the women had left, and after making sure of this fact he made a dash down the street to the fire lines. Here he met his father, who had previously gone out with things of value and was not allowed to return. As the women left before young Dr. Fenwick, both men supposed them safe, and getting out their automobile, which was at a garage, helped others save property. The bodies were not found for four days.

On Chestnut Street, not far from the Fenwicks, lived Miss Ellen M. Stone, the missionary, who a few years before was captured by Macedonian brigands and held for a large ransom. People from all over this country contributed. Her home was filled with priceless souvenirs and a great many valuable books. Miss Stone was away from home over Sunday, and her servants had been given a holiday. Her brother, knowing that she was out of town, secured a horse and express wagon and drove to the house to save whatever might be possible. The doors, of course, were locked, and while he was battering one in the structure caught fire. When the door finally yielded the interior was all ablaze, and Mr. Stone had to flee without saving a thing.

Captain Frederick M. Whiting of the Eleventh Company, Coast Artillery Corps, also lived on Chestnut Street. When his company was ordered out, he went with it. When the fire reached his home, his brother gathered some valuables into a trunk and removed them to the Armory for safe keeping, but later the Armory burned and they were lost.

Dr. J. M. Putnam was another resident of Chestnut Street, and was fortunate enough to save a few things with the aid of his son, Dr. Ralph Putnam, who came over from Winchester.