Chapter VI: Night Among the Ruins

As night approached the problem of protecting the seventeen thousand refugees and their goods confronted those in authority, and it was realized that it was too great for the local artillery company and the detail from the Marine Corps to handle. The State was called upon for more military assistance and eight companies of the Coast Artillery, four of the Fifth Infantry, six of the Eighth Infantry, and four of the First Corps of Cadets were rushed to the scene, making twelve hundred troops on duty before morning. At ten thirty the city was declared under martial law, and no one was allowed in or out until morning. Seven hundred tents and seven hundred and fifty blankets were ordered down from the barracks at South Framingham, and a special train with Battalion Adjutant Kendall in charge brought them through in record time, arriving shortly after midnight. All trains on the Boston and Maine, and all electric cars on the Boston and Northern and the Boston Elevated had been stopped. The Chelsea Ferry was commanded to cease its trips and a cordon of soldiers was thrown entirely about the city. At the principal approaches it is estimated that one hundred thousand curious people were turned back. The telephone exchange had been burned and of course the service was useless. Early in the day the electric power plant was shut down to prevent death by live wires, and the streets outside the burned district would have been dark, but for the glow which was reflected from the sky and the moon, which dimly beamed through the pall of smoke. At the Court House, where scores of injured were taken in ambulances, doctors and nurses, under charge of Dr. J. A. Johnson, worked as best they could by the light of lanterns.

In the court room were homeless women huddled in gray despairing heaps on the hard benches. At the back of the room rows of rubber-coated men leaned back on their hard benches, their inflamed eyes completely hidden by squares of soft absorbent cotton, soaked with ointments, which showed up with startling effect against their blackened faces. In the center of the room, under the sickly ray of a red lantern, stood the big court table piled high with thick square loaves of bread, big four-gallon cans of milk, and fifty-gallon cans of coffee. At either end of this table were well-dressed women, their faces pale and haggard, one cutting slices of bread and others pouring coffee. Men ate in huge gulps and drank from thick white mugs and quart dippers, then rushed out to the fire, taking handfuls of food to those who could not leave their engines. The difference between the room, with its misery and confusion, and the orderly hall of justice for which it had served up to that day, was as marked a contrast as could readily be imagined.

All night long ambulances dashed from the ruins to the United States Naval Hospital, where, under the direction of Medical Inspector H. E. Ames of the United States Navy the majority of the injured were treated, and to the United States Marine and Soldiers’ Home hospitals, and but for the unflagging efforts of the hospital sergeants, doctors, and nurses many more lives would have been lost.

One man, when picked up by the ambulance with his face and arms terribly burned, was nearly dead. Attempts were made to learn his name in case he should die, but in reply to the attendant’s question he only moaned, “My God! My God!” Another man was picked up with both legs broken, still another had a terrible gash in his forehead caused by a falling wall, another man fell from a roof and broke two ribs, and so it went. In all, three hundred injured persons were treated.

Mayor Beck, who had lost his home and his newspaper plant, was everywhere, and it was nearly morning when he lay down on a policeman’s cot at the station for a few hours’ sleep. Many of the policemen who were on duty lost their homes, but stuck to their posts, although they did not know where their wives and families were.

About midnight a gang of men started to clear the street railway tracks on Broadway and Everett Avenue, which are the outlets from Boston to many of the northern suburbs. In places they were piled several feet high with bricks, granite blocks, and other debris. The rails themselves had been twisted and bent into all conceivable shapes by the heat, and the trolley wires and poles were down. In spite of the several miles of track thus destroyed the company ran cars through the city the second day after the fire. Through the orders of Henry Mitchell, chairman of the High School Committee, the doors of the High School on Crescent Avenue had been thrown open early in the day to hundreds of women and children who were wandering aimlessly about the streets and parks. The corridors were now filled to overflowing with sobbing women, little children, and a few old men. Husbands and brothers were out hunting for relatives, directing people to shelter or helping in some other way. Few men slept during that night, and hundreds had their eyes so badly burned and inflamed by the smoke and heat that they were in great pain.

The High School could hold only a limited number, and it was pitiful to see women and children huddled together for warmth in little groups along the railroad tracks, in the parks, or in side streets. Thousands flocked to Powderhorn Hill and spent the night sobbing out some story of woe to any bystander who might seem at all interested.

During the evening a citizens’ meeting was held in the High School, which was attended by many prominent men. A Relief Committee was formed to care for the destitute and needy. Mr. Wm. E. McClintock, chairman of the State Highway Commission, was chosen chairman; City Treasurer Thomas B. Frost, treasurer, and Benjamin P. Nichols, secretary. After sending out the following letter of appeal the meeting was adjourned until eight o’clock in the morning.

“Chelsea, April 12, 1908.

“We have been visited by a most terrible catastrophe. One half
the area of our city has been swept by fire. Fifteen thousand
people are homeless.

“Twelve million dollars’ worth of property has been destroyed.
Our business section is almost wholly wiped out. We are in sore
need. We have not lost our courage, but are applying ourselves
with all our ability to the task before us.

“But that task is stupendous, and we ask assistance of all who
are beneficently inclined. He who gives quickly gives double.
Subscriptions may be sent to City Treasurer Thomas B. Frost.”

(Signed)

“JOHN E. BECK,

“Mayor of Chelsea.

“WILLIAM E. MCCLINTOCK,

“Chairman of Relief Committee.”

Later it was decided to accept no aid outside the State of Massachusetts.

COPYRIGHT, JUDGE CO., 1908

A VAST EXPANSE OF RUINS]