 CHAPTER XI There occur at intervals in the history of the world, calamities occasioned partially by fire, of which it is almost impossible to give a concise narrative, or upon which either to pass criticism or a portion blame. In other words, when fate or destiny, or call it what you will, takes a hand in the game, human ingenuity, science, and forethought can only play subsidiary roles in dealing the cards. The Baltimore fire was destructive of property, the equitable teamed with terrible possibilities, and gave scope for the most modern fire strategy that probably the world has yet seen. But the conflagration in San Francisco formed an upheaval of primal elements, which in their magnitude stand alone in history, and yet show that dogged perseverance inborn in the firefighter, which sooner or later surmounts the greatest obstacles. On April 17, 1906, San Francisco was one of the happiest, grandest, and most popular cities in the United States. Within twelve hours a large portion was in ruins. Within twenty-four it was a mass of belching flames, and within thirty-six the lamentations of its inhabitants had penetrated to the most remote quarters of the globe. To epitomize this ghastly debacle, on Wednesday April 18 an earthquake shock occurred, doing considerable damage, so badly crippling the water mains that, though their supply was rated at thirty-six million gallons a day, not only was the fire department unable to obtain the wherewithal with which to attack the ensuing fires, but so scarce became this necessity of human life, that it is credibly reported that at one period it was being retailed to thirty-thousands at fabulous sums per cup. This conflagration destroyed two thousand eight hundred thirty-one acres of business and dwelling-houses, and caused losses to the insurance companies concerned of approximately three hundred million dollars. Needless to say it is impossible to determine the number, location, or causes of the original outbreaks. All that can be definitely stated is that the fire alarms at headquarters were completely dislocated by the earthquake shocks, that the building in question was subsequently burned, that the telephone service became completely disorganized, and that doubtless many unsuccessful attempts were made to apprise the fire department of the need of its services. All that can be hazarded is that within half an hour of the commencements of the outbreaks there must have been twelve distinct and separate fires needing attention. Roughly, in order to give some idea of the operations involved, it may be stated that the centre of the fire zone was an eminence known as Knob Hill. Thence one portion of the city was involved eastwards to the waterfront, taking in Chinatown and the Latin Quarter en route. A second spread in a southwesterly direction through the business section and menaced the wharves and fairies, while the third, originating in the Mission District to the west of Knob Hill, burnt its way steadily towards the Union ironworks, where at that time were building two battleships for the United States Navy. Before dealing in such detail as is possible with the incidental operations of the fire department, it may be said that the fire force, including reserves, consisted of some six hundred men, fifty-three engines, fifteen ladder trucks, nine chemical engines, and two fire boats maintained by the Harbour Commissioners. One of the fire boats had a capacity of fourteen hundred gallons per minute, and the other nine hundred thirty, both with a water pressure of a hundred fifty pounds. Of the seventy-seven thousand feet of leading hose, nearly thirty-eight thousand feet were lost, or over one-half, while three engines and a ladder were disabled beyond repair. Fire Chief Sullivan was unfortunately injured at the outset and died before he had formulated a plan of attack. This comprehends the total casualties to men and materiel in the department during the entire conflagration, a remarkably small percentage of the whole, and it is a fair supposition that had the means of regular communication been open and had water been obtainable during the early hours of the disaster, and having also due regard for the lightness of the wind and its direction, the fire department would have obtained control by noon of the first day. During the first period, that is to say, until Wednesday night, the fire appears to have been spasmodic and did not possess the nature of a fierce sweeping blast. The ordinary rules of exposure seemed to have prevailed, and a leading part was played by familiar factors, such as individual combustibility, adjacency, opposing openings, short distances and excess height. Some notable cases of defense are worthy of comment, such as that of the U.S. Mint, an old building far beyond modern standards of fire resistance. Superintendent Leitch of the fire department rallied his men, and assisted by some regular soldiers beat the fire off in a manner worthy of the highest commendation. Another remarkable effort was that made by the employees of the post office to save that structure. As the flames attacked, through windows broken by the heat, everything igniting was extinguished in detail, the officials fought most gallantly, and three days later when it was possible once again to obtain access to the building, eleven postal clerks who had been seventy-two hours without food or water were rescued, together with the whole of the mail of which they had been in charge. Late in the afternoon the great twenty-one storey Spreckles building ignited, through broken windows on the fourth floor, from fires started in two small frame buildings adjacent to it. This provided one of the most spectacular scenes of the whole outbreak. Enormous crowds watched the dull red glow mount floor by floor till it reached the ornate three-tiered domes surrounding this edifice. The circular windows therein seemed to shine like moons for some moments, then followed a thousand spurts of flame as the floors collapsed, and as darkness closed around men and women wailed hysterically, thrust to see the pride of their city so remorselessly destroyed. As for the palace hotel, its doom was sealed early in the afternoon. A fine attempt was made by its staff, assisted by some of the guests, to resist the enemy, but the protection of a hundred-odd closely attacked and wooden-framed windows and a vulnerable roof swamped them, and the hotel was abandoned. Shortly after this commenced the extensive use of explosives which figured so prominently in this conflagration, it is not surprising that men reduced to helplessness and desperation by lack of water should have resorted to what has been proved in all modern fires to be useless, and in the opinion of this writer even harmful. As is usually the case the explosions made no effective gaps and rather served to increase the quantity of combustible material. On the other hand, windows throughout the neighborhood were shattered. The proximity of exploding buildings made it dangerous for owners to prosecute individual efforts towards the protection of their own property, and it would appear that the choice of location for this desperate expedient was both haphazard and unintelligent. The situation when Wednesday night arrived is important to realize. Until now the rich business district north of Market Street and the high-class residential area were untouched. It was still possible to maintain communication and to conduct organized opposition since the center of the city was yet habitable. But human nature had become exhausted. Questions of life became paramount to those of property so that upon the direction of the wind depended the future. Alas, during the evening the breeze, for it was little more, veered southward and increased just sufficiently to level the sweep of the flame and render leeward positions untenable. The huge frame of the mechanic's pavilion was transformed into a roaring pyre, and the upslope toward Russian Hill perceptibly increased the vulnerability of that district. From now onwards the spread of the flames was more rapid, and they greedily ate their way along O'Farrell Street, devouring, in turn, theaters, hotels, clubs, stores and apartment houses. Higher buildings like the Crocker felt the blast of the intense heat in their upper stories and caught fire ahead of their time. Fireproof buildings like the Mills and the Merchants Exchange, which during the day had proved bulwarks of safety, became involved and towards midnight were burning like beacon flares. A most desperate stand was now made around the Fairmount Hotel. Sailors from a revenue cutter, assisted by firemen, ran a three-quarter mile length of hose from their ship to the building, their officers with drawn revolvers impressing civilian bystanders to act as property savers, but all to no purpose, and as the dawn of the second day colored the eastern horizon it was realized that not only the hotel but all the surrounding wealthy residences were doomed. During that Thursday morning the wind lightened and now blew from the east and served to check the advance of the flames which threatened the ferry building. It confronted, however, the defenders with a fresh and even more alarming development, that of losing the only closely inhabited part of the city remaining, the section west of Van Ness Avenue. In this 125-foot street the most extraordinary efforts had been resorted to in a vain attempt to stop the ever-spreading fires. Beautiful houses were blown to atoms by dynamite, while the artillery belonging to the military garrison had carried on a steady and remorseless bombardment with high explosive shells. The neighborhood was an inferno. Above the crackling of the flames resounded the dull boom of bursting shrapnel and the cries of terror-stricken men and women, while a canopy of green-gray smoke slowly spread upwards marking the positions of the targets. Yet all this only served to provide fresh fuel for the oncoming conflagration. Some check was doubtless afforded by these drastic measures, but the invader still advanced westward. On the Friday morning, the third day of the fire, the east wind happily dropped, but was succeeded by a strong westerly breeze, which, within the course of a few hours, shifted between northwest and southwest, the former driving the flames into the Latin Quarter and destroying the frame houses comprising it like so many dry leaves, and the remarkable sight was witnessed of thousands of barrels of wine being stove-in with the vain hope that the liquor might be used to stay the approaching cataclysm. Forces concentrated near the merchant's ice and cold storage company, with the assistance of a city engine, and using the company's own water supply, at this point won a victory over the flames. Individual work also saved an isolated and somewhat scattered group of high-class dwellings on the precipitous summit of Russian Hill. The conflagration had thus lasted three days, and on the Saturday morning a heavy rain did much to bring the situation under control. A few smoldering blazes along the east-water front occasionally flared up, endangering unburnt structures, but were, however, promptly suppressed. Vigorous and effective measures were now taken to prevent new outbreaks in the uninjured districts, where, owing to the earthquake, chimneys, gas-pipes, and electric wiring were generally in an unsafe condition, and where the scant water supply rendered the situation most precarious. No time was lost in destroying dangerous walls, and it is worthy of comment that explosives were again used to an exceptional degree in this work, causing unnecessary additional damage in some places, and, unfortunately, quickly terminating many opportunities for distinguishing the true effects of the fire. Thus, within the burnt area of two thousand eight hundred thirty-one acres, there survived in a partially habitable condition, firstly, three groups of buildings, that is, the detached dwellings on Russian Hill, some warehouses at the foot of Telegraph Hill, and a mercantile group near the Custom House, secondly, one factory plant, the Western Electric Company, thirdly, three government buildings, the Mint, the Post Office, and the Appraisers' Building, fourthly, two fire-resisting office buildings, the Hayward with the three-story building adjoining, and the Atlas Building with the two-story structure adjacent to it. Such is a brief description of the conflagration which devastated San Francisco, and necessitated, without exaggeration, the foundation of a new city. The narrative has been shorn of anything that might detract from a realization of the factors which governed the actual situation, though naturally it goes without saying that incidents of interest, humorous, pathetic, and tragic abound. As in all great crises, the behavior of those concerned varied according to temperament and circumstance, but generally speaking there was little real panic, and on all sides was observable a tendency to make the best of things, and incidentally to help others to do likewise. At first people were so stunned that they scarcely realized what was passing, as was evidenced by one stranger to the town who, making his way to safety, was accosted by a rough who demanded his purse. He surrendered it without demure, but the hold-up had been observed by an officer in command of some soldiers. Martial law, having been declared, the thief was shot dead on sight. Afterwards being asked to give evidence regarding this shooting, the victim of the assault was found to have forgotten everything about it, and remarked that he was so bewildered that anything seemed quite natural. This curious mental effect was by no means uncommon, and no doubt indirectly exerted an influence against any access of unreasoning or overwhelming terror which would have rendered the exertions of the authorities practically abortive. A story, dramatic in its sheer horror, was related by a doctor who reported that he had found a man pinned under debris and suffering the most horrible torture, the while calling loudly for someone to put him out of his misery. After consultation a police officer drew his revolver and fired at the sufferer, but being presumably unnerved the shot went wide of its mark. The doctor was then authorized to act, and he accordingly opened the arteries in the man's arm, thus assuring him a speedy release from his agony. Thieves there were too, in plenty, though short shrift was their lot when caught, firing squads patrolled the streets, and these ghouls paid the price of their hideous crimes, the hacking of be-ringed fingers from lifeless hands and the like, with their own worthless bodies. On the other hand simple heroism could be depicted in no nobler form than the spiritual comfort extended to the dying by the ministers of all denominations who worked like slaves at great risk to themselves. A word of praise must be written and at the pluck and never-flagging determination shown by all ranks of the fire department under the command of Chief Shaughnessy, who succeeded Chief Sullivan after the death of the latter, the firemen worked for three whole days with such apparatus as was at hand, and only ceased when compelled so to do from physical exhaustion. And with all humor was not lacking. It so happened that the metropolitan opera company of New York was fulfilling an engagement in the city at the time, and the experiences of its individual members would fill a volume, their worldwide fame, of course, aroused the greatest interest in their fates, and it was only after some days that public anxiety was elade, and it was learnt that no one of their number was the worst for the experience. Caruso was a guest at the palace-hotel and only escaped with difficulty, but he accepted the unexpected with a philosophy not usually associated with his countrymen, and as he sat in the middle of the street upon his valise wondering what was coming next, he nonchalantly rolled a cigarette and professed himself as not unduly disturbed. Later, in common with everyone else, he was compelled to shift for himself, and owed his cordial reception by a band of soldiers who gave him food and lodging to the fact that he was carrying with him a photo of ex-president Roosevelt inscribed with the words with kindest regards. This served as a passport, one of the men remarking, if you're Teddy's friend, come right in and be comfortable. Caruso afterwards summed up his impressions in the sentence, it instantly recalled the horrors of my native Naples of which I've been reading, Vesuvius' interruption could not have been as horrible. Campanari, the great baritone, contented himself by opining that it made a change in the monotony of touring, and that he found Caruso's pajamas, in which incidentally he had escaped, a bad fit. Rossi, the bass, passed the time by trying his voice, while Nehan Franco, one of the conductors, risked his life by returning to his hotel in order to save a violin he much prized. Madame Sembrich succeeded in saving her pearls, reputed to be some of the finest extant, but assessed the loss of her wardrobe at twenty-five thousand dollars. Finally Alfred Hertz, the musical director who also helped himself to Caruso's garments in the moment of the emergency, found safety near the zoological gardens, which owing to the roars of the frightened beasts he declared to be a more horrible place than any in the city. A fact of more than passing interest which must strike all observers is the similarity of the results recorded in this conflagration to those in the Baltimore outbreak. The latter was the first in which modern methods of fire resistance received a severe test. There the water supply was adequate and the fire department well up to the average and manipulated with considerable intelligence. There were fire-proof buildings, most of them of modern construction, and so situated as to reinforce each other and act, so to speak, as fire-breaks. Yet the result showed that in the direct sweep of the fire as determined by the direction of the wind nothing survived except the following. Firstly, an occasional one or two-story building favorably located as to shelter or wind currents. Secondly, an occasional grade floor in a fire-resistive building. And thirdly, the empty shells of the fire-proof buildings themselves, none of which possessed front window protection. Finally, structures on the side-borders of the wind sweep where the exposure was confined to ignition from brands and where men and apparatus could maintain a working basis and keep open their communications. There was also something in the nature of a successful check at Jones Falls, a stream of water, of but moderate width, by which engines belonging to the New York Fire Department made a determined stand. Thus from past experiences there was no reasonable expectation in San Francisco of the survival of any building after the fire department was in retreat, except in cases analogous to those just mentioned. In the main this proved correct, with some few exceptions. Within the burned section not only did all frame-buildings succumb, but also all brick-structures having wooden floor-beams, whether of good, bad, or indifferent construction, and with more or less complete ruin in nearly every case with the one exception of the Palace Hotel. But amongst conclusions which may be formed from this disaster, in the opinion of this writer, are the uselessness of explosives as a deterrent measure to the spread of flames, and the danger to tall buildings from the heat engendered by burning structures of a lesser height. The former accentuates confusion, causes panic, fosters misunderstandings between municipal and federal authorities, destroys property which otherwise might conceivably be saved, provides fresh fuel for the flames, and hence is practically worthless as a serious feature in firefighting. An exception which may occur only goes to emphasize the point. As regards the latter, this danger was plainly exemplified in the occurrences in San Francisco, and serves to illustrate the care which must be taken in considering the fire-resisting methods which must receive attention in the modern skyscraper, and which are dealt with at length in another chapter. Suffice it to say that the heat wave generated during the climax of the conflagration rose to a height of about three hundred feet above the street level and was directly responsible for the ignition of church steeples, skyscrapers, and all structures of a similar character. Otherwise many old data received confirmation which have been listed as follows in the underwriter's report upon the conflagration. a. The dangerous effect of a number of simultaneous fires. b. The weakening of a firefighting force if compelled to thin out over a wide front. c. The improbability with existing methods of frontal resistance to a fire sweep when the wind velocity exceeds a certain critical figure. d. The special vulnerability of leeward upslopes. e. The structural ruin in conflagrations of all wooden-joiced brick buildings where the stability of the walls in any way depends upon the bracing of the beams. f. The limited utility in a conflagration of rear and side shuttering where front windows remain unprotected. g. The likelihood of ignition of ordinary roofs consisting as they do of wooden boards with a thin veneer of tin or other roofing material. h. The slight value as conflagration breaks of fireproof buildings when abandoned. i. The possibility of holding buildings even with unprotected openings provided there are some men even only a little water and the openings are few. j. The structural survival even without window protection and when abandoned of steel frame buildings with fireproof floor arches provided the steel frame is properly encased with fireproof material, the structural damage being in close proportion to the quality of the frame protection. k. The greater or lesser destruction in such buildings of all non-structural interior, heavy spalling of all kinds of facing stone, the injury to ornamental moldings and copings, extensive damage to hollow tile in floor arches and partitions as usually constructed, a marked increase of injury where wood-finished floors are used over the floor arches, the danger from falling safes where there is loose backfelling, the failure of unprotected cast iron mullions and spandrels in quartz, and the weakness of roofs carried on unprotected steel rafters with suspended ceilings. i. Amongst other important lessons derived from this conflagration in the matter of firefighting may appropriately be noticed the following. a. The importance of front as well as rear and side window protection, fire-resistant if possible but at any rate fire retardant, that is, wire glass. b. The necessity of encouraging individual protection by the occupants of buildings. c. The importance of ample water supply and a good pressure. d. The necessity for all fire departments to have a large reserve of apparatus and hose. e. The importance to fire departments of powerful apparatus with a long range. f. The importance of fire-resisting roofs, roof structures, and of well-protected skylights. g. The necessity of the adoption of rigid standards for column protection. h. The importance of good bricklaying and mortar with cement in place of lime. j. The importance of efficient protection to the steel frames in roof attics. k. The importance in partitions of a better bracing of tile and the need of fire-retardant trancems as well as doors. c. In conclusion perhaps the writer may be pardoned for hazarding the belief that in case of a great conflagration where the military authorities are invited to assist in the maintenance of order every effort should be made to assist the fire department and the loss of individual property should be subordinated to the public will in accordance with the expressed opinion of the fire chief. c. Thus the policy at San Francisco by which looting was prevented on any large scale by the indiscriminate employment of the military, who were also responsible for the use of explosives, may have saved some thousands of dollars, but this very policy was probably accountable for the loss of millions by the way in which the skilled firefighters were hampered in their movements through official interference, by the unnecessary blocking of important thoroughfares, and by the fears of bodily harm consequent upon unexpected explosions. c. It would appear as though the American continent possessed a monopoly of great conflagrations, and in all truth this is in a measure correct owing to peculiarities of construction. Canada supplies an instance of what may happen when the fire department is not equal to the needs of the situation, which must sometimes occur when the building material is chiefly wood. The town of Hull, which is situated on the north bank of the Ottawa River, directly opposite the capital of the Dominion, was, until April 26, 1900, a thriving and prosperous municipality. On that spring morning a fire broke out, a quarter of a mile from the main street of the little city, and fanned by a fierce gale from the northwest rapidly advanced in the direction of the countless lumber mills and other factories from which Hull obtained its prosperity. The population was chiefly composed of persons employed in these industries and of the heads of the mills in the district, whose houses, although many of them were large, were built of wood. By eleven-thirty the flames had swept across Main Street, and its dozens of cross-thero-fairs were rendered impassable. The courthouse, the post-office, and many churches were destroyed, and by midnight the inter-provincial bridge connecting Hull with Ottawa was a mass of flame. In the ruins of Hull there remained only the Catholic cathedral with a few houses clustered about it, and two factories to mark the existence of what had once been a flourishing industrial centre. But the flames were unsatisfied. Aided by the wind, great masses of burning embers ignited the powerhouses, street-electric and incandescent electric companies buildings on Victoria Island, from whence the wharves on Chaudière Flats, part of Ottawa itself, were within easy distance. Here were situated a great number of lumber mills, and the piles of dried timber were the most enticing food for the roaring conflagration that could have been found. Here also was located the Canadian Pacific Railway Station, which, being of wood like the other structures, offered no resistance to the attack. In fact so rapid was the on-rush of the enemy that many fine houses were consumed in the twinkling of an eye, and before their owners were able to save even the smallest proportion of their possessions. Montreal, and smaller towns in the vicinity of the threatened city, nobly responded, with men and apparatus, on an appeal for aid, since the outbreak had assumed proportions far beyond the control of a comparatively small local fire department. But even this assistance, combined with the efforts of the militia, proved of no avail in the face of the tornado of flame, which tore like a whirlwind past every obstruction, and threatened to transform the capital of Canada into a heap of ashes like its suburb of hull. Rochesterville, a small township which had been included some time previously within the city limits, was rendered a desolate waste, and had it not been that the direction of the wind mercifully changed to the east, and had it not been for the high cliffs which formed an insurmountable barrier to the onset, not all the fire departments in Canada could have saved the city. Owing to the destruction of the electric light supply, the House of Commons, which was then sitting, was obliged to adjourn. Everything possible was done to provide shelter and subsistence for the seven thousand homeless people whose condition was piteous in the extreme. Most of them were labourers from the mills and lumber-yards, who had seen their homes wiped out and their occupations taken from them at practically one in the same moment. The military drill-hall and the exhibition buildings were devoted to this charitable purpose, and many philanthropists proved themselves worthy of the demands made upon them. A curious feature of this disaster was the fact that, after the fire had burnt itself out, there remained no smoldering embers and smoking ruins, but all was literally in ashes, so thoroughly had the flames done their work. It is also worthy of note that only seven persons met their death, and that no fireman was injured with the exception of the Chief of the Hull Brigade. The property loss was assessed at seventeen million dollars, three million four hundred thousand pounds, and some idea of the extent of the damage in the lumber-yards alone can be gained from the bare statement that two hundred million feet of timber was destroyed. Needless to say, the price of this commodity was materially increased, and the trade suffered severely. This conflagration, it will be observed, was of the same sweeping character as that of Baltimore, though fought under totally different circumstances. For sheer horror, the disaster at the bazaar in the Rue Jean-Gougin Paris on May 4, 1897 surpasses the wildest dreams of the most morbid fiction writer, and will ever live as perpetual reminder to the thoughtless of the uncertainty of existence. Owing to the social prominence of its one hundred and fifty victims, this catastrophe stands out unique in the annals of great fires. Imagine the elite of a great city, the subscribers to such fashionable organizations as the opera, the horse show, and in England, Ascot. Pack them all within a limited area, apply a match, and make a bonfire of the surroundings and picture the result. These formed the patrons at the bazaar in question, when at four p.m. on that day hundreds of persons were crowding the narrow aisles between the stalls, decorated to represent the streets of old Paris, and were gazing with interest at the many titled men and women who had offered their services on behalf of a well-deserving charity. The building itself was a one-story wooden structure with a freshly tarred roof, and contained draperies and curtains of highly inflammable material. As in most of these instances, the origin of the fire is doubtful. It may have been caused by the overturning of a spirit lamp, or the ignition of the illuminating apparatus of a cinematograph which had been installed for the additional amusement of the visitors. But all that is definitely known is that at this hour in the afternoon an explosion took place on the left side of the bazaar. The flames, seizing on the hangings and articles exposed for sale, spread rapidly, and the crowd instinctively sought the farthest point from danger. Of the eight doors one was on the left, and therefore cut off by the flames. Three opened on to the Rue Jean Gougin, and four, located in the rear and used by employees, were unknown to the guests. People near the main entrances were able to escape with but slight injury. But the great mass of humanity surged towards the right wall, where there was no outlet, save a small window, heavily barred, which connected with the Hotel du Palais. Servants in the hotel, who had been peering through this opening to obtain a glimpse of the gay throng, succeeded in breaking the bars and rescuing a number of the panic-stricken throng, but while so doing many were burnt before their eyes. The first intimation of the situation to passers-by was a rush of semi-nude and maddened women into the adjacent streets, where instantly all became confusion. Rows of stately carriages and humble cabs, whose drivers had been awaiting the arrival of their employers, were roused into activity by the vision of their shrieking blood-stained owners wildly clamouring to be driven anywhere away from the scene of horror. Grooms in the service of the Baron de Rothschild, whose stables were nearby, used their hose to good purpose in extinguishing the flames enveloping the filmy gowns of the escaping patrons, and one man more clear-headed than the rest plunged at full length into a horse-trough to find relief from his sufferings. Before the fireman could arrive the whole structure was in a blaze, and the building collapsed even as the engines galloped up. It had been known to the authorities that the hall was anything but fire-resistant, though being built upon private property they had not been able to take any steps in the matter, and it had been thought that its dimensions and the fact that it was on the street level was sufficient guarantee of its security. In the meantime rescues had been affected in the interior by a few brave priests, who by means of some ladders had led about thirty people over the walls of a neighbouring convent. But anything in the nature of organised firefighting was out of the question, the flames having got beyond control and the whole structure resembling nothing so much as a giant funeral-pire, which was intensified by the piteous moans and cries for help which no human power could give. It is difficult to gather any collected narrative of what happened within. In moments such as these impressions are fleeting and as elusive as the phantasmagoria of delirium. But a few episodes remain illustrative to some extent of the nature of the struggle for life, while others exemplify the height of self-abagnation to which on occasion individuals arise. The story of the martyrdom of the Duchess d'Alençon was related afterwards by an eyewitness, a young girl who had been assisting her at a stall not far from the outbreak of the fire. As the younger woman saw the flames approach she begged her friend to escape, pointing out the fact that the main entrance was near and that the fire would soon be upon them. But the Duchess replied in calm tones that it was their duty to allow the visitors the first chance, and she and her terrified companion remained at their post, watching the waves of frightened people beat their way to safety, until the heat became so intense that Mademoiselle El could endure it no longer. With one last entreaty to the Duchess she joined the others, leaving her brave companion with hands clasped across her breast, and eyes steadfastly fixed on her approaching doom, never to be seen again alive. It may here be remarked that the Duchess was a sister of the Empress of Austria, who later was to die a victim to the assassin's knife, and that both were universally known and beloved. Some may find food for reflection in the extraordinary manner tragedy appears to dog the footsteps of the members of certain families, and, of a truth, fire is no respecter of persons, as has been instanced again and again. When the firemen were able to enter the ruins of this charnel house they found, near the fatal right wall, a mound of dead five feet in height, denuded of clothing and many unrecognizable. The Duchess was identified only by a ring and certain stopped teeth in her jaw. Pideas was the plight of many of the survivors, some of whom became insane from fright, while others were so severely injured that they afterwards died, or carried traces of their experience for many years. It is out of the question to criticise what might or might not have been done in the case of a disaster of this nature, with a non-fire-resistant structure and conditions such as prevailed, from the first the case was practically hopeless, though as a council of perfection had panic been avoided more persons might have been saved, and notices advising visitors of the back exits should have been displayed. But even the latter would probably have availed little, since it is the prime impulse of every person in a building to leave by the exit through which he or she entered. This it is which makes it of supreme importance to have properly drilled aisle-guards and staff, who in an emergency will keep cool and act as pilots to the excited and hysterical. It is not too much to say that if all were possessed of the splendid courage of the Duchess D'Alençon, less life would have been sacrificed to the fire. It is a relief to turn from the contemplation of such horrors to a conflagration which, if involving tremendous financial loss, at least was unattended by the harrowing scenes which have been described above. In London, on the 19th of November, 1897, a fire broke out at 30 Hansel Street, in the heart of the manufacturing and warehouse section of the city. The origin of the conflagration was the explosion of a gas engine on the premises of a large firm of mantle-manufacturers. The employees, terrified by the smoke, rushed to the roof and fled shrieking in fear over the adjoining buildings. A strong wind was blowing, and as is often the case in emergencies of this nature, everybody's business was nobody's business. There was some delay in transmitting the fire-call. On the arrival of the brigade the flames had spread to a neighbouring warehouse and had crossed the street to a paper factory. In this part of the city the streets are particularly narrow, and great difficulty was experienced by the firemen in conveniently placing their apparatus. Large forces of police were required to keep back the crowds who sprang up as if by magic, and threatened seriously to hamper the operations of the firefighters. One after another the buildings, stocked with large supplies of novelties and goods for the Christmas market, were involved, and an explosion of gas-meters added to the complexities of the situation. Firemen, who had ascended to the roofs of fire-free buildings in order better to attack the outbreak, found their retreat cut off, and the excited spectators witnessed many daring rescues of these brave men by their comrades. The vicarage of St. Giles Church Cripple Gate was completely destroyed, and the church itself, interesting on account of its historic associations, was saved after almost superhuman effort. In all, one hundred houses covering four acres were consumed, and the combined exertions of practically the entire brigade were unsuccessful in checking the flames, until 5.30 p.m., when a wall collapsed in Well Street, arresting the progress of the latter. The width of Red Cross Street was fortunately a sufficient barrier at that point, for had the fire broken through it is impossible to say where or how it would have been stopped. Some idea of the magnitude of the conflagration can be gleaned from the fact that at midnight no less than fifty engines were still at work, and the fire was not under complete control till the following morning. The total financial loss amounted to five million pounds, twenty-five million dollars, it put two thousand people out of work, and sent up the price of ostrich feathers in all parts of the world. There is an absence of spectacular detail about such an outbreak, which tends to make it almost dull and uninteresting, but at the same time it illustrates effectively the vast risks which are to be found in European towns, and goes to show that the London Fire Department, though by American ideas lightly equipped as regards personnel and apparatus, is at times called upon to fight fires of the first magnitude. It is perhaps this very absence of spectacular effect which makes the realization of fire peril so difficult to the European and so vivid to the American. Baltimore, San Francisco, the Equitable, were occurrences of worldwide interest, and absorbed the descriptive talents of every skillful writer on two continents. A fire such as the above is merely a record of good work well and bravely done in the most unromantic of surroundings, and with a total absence of colour, pathetic, exciting or enthralling. The business of the world was not temporarily dislocated, though the pecuniary values involved were so tremendous. Lives were in danger, certainly, but so they are daily and the fact passes unnoticed. Hence it is that in describing great conflagrations those in Europe are apt to sink into insignificance, and those in the States loom out large in their gaunt and staring hideousness. In this respect it may not be inappropriate to add a few words about the fire danger in conjunction with floods. In the spring of most years, and alas particularly in that of 1913, floods often occur through the rising of rivers, and vast tracts of territory are inundated, while towns and cities are washed away or destroyed by fire. That latter phrase gives rise to comment. People argue how can it be possible to have fires when it is water which is giving the main cause for alarm? The answer is simple enough. Gas mains burst, oil stoves are upset, electric light mains are severed and become potential torches, and there is no means of effectively fighting the outbreak. Streets impassable through water naturally prevent the operating of any but floating fire apparatus, and thus it is that flames and floods sometimes work as allies, and humanity stands staggered at the immensity of the forces combined against it. But there is one comforting reflection, that silver lining which borders every cloud, namely that year by year the services of science are being called upon to a greater degree to keep within control the latent forces of nature. Houses are built fire-resistant, apparatus is perfected, waters are dammed, rivers are banked, and inch by inch day by day the never-ceasing combat continues till the time shall come when the victory shall lie with man. That day will dawn, of that there is no doubt, and the swiftness of its advent will be exactly proportionate to the determination of the human race. Amongst some of the great conflagrations known to history the following are representative, though it may be hazarded that the financial values involved must in the earlier years have been problematical, as when an entire city is wiped off the map, it is obviously difficult to total even approximately the fire loss. Ancient Rome boasts of one great outbreak which consumed almost every building within its walls, this in 64 A.D. Constantinople might not in aptly be described as the much-burned, since it had three conflagrations in the eighteenth century alone, one costing one hundred lives and fifteen thousand dwellings, another three hundred lives and thirty million dollars worth of damage, and the third thirty thousand dwellings and a property loss of a hundred and fifteen million dollars. Moscow, outside of 1812 when the city was destroyed by its own inhabitants rather than allow it to fall into the hands of Napoleon, was wiped out in 1383, the destruction on this occasion being even greater than the later event, since naturally the construction was inferior. The great fire of London occasioned a property loss of sixty million dollars, while in 1861 the business section suffered to the extent of twelve million dollars, and in 1874 the residential area suffered to the extent of fifteen million dollars. A conflagration of gigantic proportions gutted Smyrna in 1796 and destroyed half the city with a loss of over fifty million dollars. Turning to America, the great fire of New York in 1835 destroyed six hundred buildings with a loss of twenty million dollars, while that of Boston in 1872 represented the second highest total extent, namely one hundred million dollars. The record for fire loss before the conflagration in San Francisco was held by Chicago, which in 1871 lost seventeen thousand five hundred buildings and two hundred million dollars worth of property, though without appreciable loss of life. Toronto in 1904, St. John's in 1892, and Hamburg in 1842 were also visited by serious outbreaks, that in the German city burning all the business section with a loss of thirty five million dollars, while the Newfoundland capital suffered to the extent of twenty six million dollars, a remarkable figure taking into consideration the small size of the town and the relatively minor importance of its financial values. After such a recitation, who shall say that personally, financially, or structurally fire does not constitute one of the greatest perils extent? End of Section 12. Chapter 12 The Hotel Peril Within the last twenty years a great change has come over family life, both in Europe and America, and the reign of the hotel seems established. Everywhere vast caravanser eyes are springing up, and though replete with all the comfort the mind of man can devise, and though advertised as fire-proof, their construction is often such as to render them an easy prey to fire, and therefore dangerous to human life. That some people are aware of this fact is evidenced by the frequent demand of visitors for rooms not too high up or on the lowest story, for it must be remembered that people do not perish only by fire itself, but from suffocation consequent on smoke, from ill-judged action caused by panic, and from other indirect causes. Also, the expression fire-proof, as applied to a building, does not include its furnishings and equipment, and is further no guarantee that it has been designed along the lines of greatest resistance to the fire peril. Finally, the fire-proofing of materials is not always satisfactory, and a story is told of a contractor in that business, who was asked by a friend what was done with all the shavings and chips from fire-proof wood. The nonchalant reply, we use them to light the stoves in the morning, they make excellent kindling, gave him food for reflection. There can be no doubt that hotel fires are extremely prevalent, as may be judged from the following figures. During the first day of 1913, five hotels in widely separated portions of the United States were destroyed, with a loss of two lives and one hundred thousand dollars. The total of such fires in the month of January was twenty-five, representing a property loss of seven hundred thousand dollars and seven lives. In 1912 there was a hotel fire every thirty-three hours in North America, and up to date, 1913, that record has been passed, with an outbreak every thirty hours. It has been estimated that the property loss in the United States through these disasters during the last five years has amounted to twenty-five million dollars, five million pounds, while the death roll has been proportionate. These figures, it is true, apply to America, but similar occurrences are common enough in Europe, and are by no means confined to the older-fashioned structures. Too wet, the fire at the Carleton Hotel is still fresh in the memory of Londoners. Now it must not be supposed that this state of affairs is due to the apathy of hotel proprietors and managers as to the safety of their clients, apart from considerations of humanity and sentiment that would be bad business. Rather is ignorance the root of the evil, ignorance of the very first principles of fire control, which all responsible for the lives and safety of others should thoroughly understand. It is only too common to find an attic at the top of a hotel used as a lumber room and filled with all kinds of inflammable rubbish, such as old mattresses, empty boxes, excelsior and waste paper, a perfect magazine of combustible material, and a direct invitation to a visit from the flames. Many hotels again have unprotected elevator shafts, around which circle the main stairs. Should a fire originate on the ground floor, instantly the shaft becomes a flue up which the flames sweep with amazing rapidity, and the stairway, as a means of exit, becomes impassable. Defective electric wiring is likewise a constant source of danger, short-circuiting constituting one of the most serious of risks. As for heating apparatus, with faulty connections, improperly covered or wrongly situated hot air ducts, were this cause of trouble eliminated, it is no exaggeration to say that hotel fires would decrease by one-third. It may be imagined that the introduction of precautions necessary to combat this peril spells the expenditure of large sums of money and radical structural alterations. Broadly speaking, this is not the case. The expenditure of a certain amount of common sense and care will produce far-reaching results, as the history of hotel fires goes to show, while in the case of new construction it should be realized that skimping in the matter of fire protection in the long run is the worst kind of penny-wise pound-foolish policy. The municipal authorities, of course, insist upon compliance with certain regulations when the erection of a hotel is undertaken, varying with the country and local conditions, but as a rule the building code is directed chiefly towards ensuring safety of exit for guests, rather than interfering in the larger issue of how the necessity of a hurried exit may be avoided. At the same time the writer must place on record the fact that in New York the new hotels embody every known means of fire resistance and are as perfect in their construction as the present state of human knowledge will allow. But what precautions should be taken in older buildings, and are they beyond the scope of the average manager? The answer may be framed in the form of another question, or rather series of questions. Has everything been done to prevent a possible outbreak by the removal of potential sources of the same? This is largely a matter of common sense coupled with some thought. Then can a fire be readily detected? Is there an automatic fire alarm, or is there a night watchman who records his tours of inspection in a clock? Can guests be readily alarmed, and is there direct telephonic communication with the fire department? Is there an efficient system of fire escapes, and is the house properly provided with chemical extinguishers and such like apparatus? Are the employees competent to deal with an incipient blaze, and have any regulations been issued as to the particular duty of each in the event of an emergency? These suggestions do not represent a considerable capital outlay, and yet are all of primal importance. Of course it is easy to continue the catechism further, and to ask whether in design and construction the building is such that it is feasible to confine a fire within certain limits, whether elevator shafts are covered in, whether floor openings are unprotected, whether there is a sufficient water supply, and whether the house is guarded against exposure fires—that is, fires caused by adjacency to some other burning structure, a common enough contingency, and one easily met by the adoption of wire glass in windows. This may appear a formidable battery of queries, but a little consideration will suffice to show that their bark is worse than their bite, and that after all there is nothing so dreadfully radical in the proposition as to necessitate loss of sleep or visions of speedy bankruptcy. The great conflagrations of the world have not been due to elemental disruptions as a rule beyond the control of man, but rather to acts of deliberate carelessness or thoughtlessness which might easily have been avoided. And so it is with fires in hotels. They constitute a real peril which annually reaps a rich harvest of lives and property, a minimum of precaution and the harvest would not be garnered. The following examples of hotel fires which might have been avoided are selected from a list prepared by Insurance Engineering, a monthly publication devoted to the science of fire control. Brockville, Ontario, Canada, Strathcona Hotel, cause overheated furnace in basement, discovered by clerk at 4.45 in the morning, no private appliances, fire department handicapped by delayed alarm and lack of sufficient apparatus with which to fight the fire, lost considerable. Overheated furnaces are a source of such constant trouble that the heating plant should always be isolated and situated in a fireproof room, though a case is recorded from Chicago in which it was found that the heat from the firebox of a boiler was so intense that it ignited some sheets of music on the other side of a thick brick wall, hence isolation cannot be too carefully insured. Chicago, York Hotel, cause of fire, defective electric wiring, discovered by Watchman, 3.16 a.m., in partition in first story, fire department immediately notified, fire spread to roof in hollow finish, private fire protection poor, firemen who arrived promptly helped guests to escape by stairs, lost nominal, owing to the prompt and effective work of the fire department. Defective electric wiring is too frequent a cause of fire and can easily be avoided by regular inspection, it is then the safest method of illumination in the world. A word may here be inserted about hollow finish. This is a system whereby spaces are left between the outside covering of a wall, ceiling, or floor in the main constructional work. Such cavities, if subjected to fire, are a source of serious danger, since the air therein encourages the flames, whereas if built up flush this danger disappears. Rimouski, Province of Quebec, Saint-Germain Hotel, 3 story, wood, cause, hot stove pipe on the floor of the second story, fire spread through hollow wall finish, loss, total. Charleston, Ontario, Grandview Hotel, cause, oil heater in pool room, fire spread to other buildings and caused a conflagration, loss, two hundred thousand dollars. These are two good examples of how fires occur through defective heating arrangements. It seems scarcely necessary to insist that in any building stove pipes should be most carefully protected, while oil stoves as heaters should be abolished in total. Akron, Ohio, Thuma Hotel, 5 stories, brick, ordinary construction, hollow finish, cause, grease fire on range of kitchen in basement, ignited coating of grease in vent shaft which passed upward through building, part of the way between the ceiling finish of the second story and the floor of the third. Fire department responded quickly to a box alarm and fought fire for six hours. When the firemen arrived, the fire was general throughout the building. Owing to the effective work of the firemen, the loss was limited to twenty-five percent of the values. Vent ducts from kitchen ranges are peculiarly liable to ignition, since in the course of time the pipes become coated with the thick deposit of inflammable grease. Should this catch fire, great heat is generated and the duct becoming red hot will ignite any wood adjacent to it. Hence every precaution should be adopted for the isolation of these vents, so that in the event of an outbreak they may burn out without causing more serious trouble. Of the inconsequent carelessness of hotel employees, a whole volume might easily be compiled. The following, however, are good examples. Selena, Kansas, National Hotel. Fire started in the basement, in laundry chute into which a cigar-bot had been thrown. The chute was of wood and extended from basement to roof, with unprotected openings in each storey. The fire was discovered by the hotel porter, but an alarm was not sent to the fire department. The notification to which it responded was the fire itself which was seen by several firemen. The hotel had been inspected by the fire department and the owner had been warned against the dangerous construction and arrangement of the chute. Missoula Montana, Florence Hotel. Three-story, brick, ordinary construction, hollow finish, unprotected floor openings. Fire started in elevator shaft in the rear of the building and was caused by a can of hot ashes set on the platform of the elevator car. Fire was discovered at 11 a.m. by a clerk who promptly transmitted the alarm to the fire department. The flames travelled up elevator shaft and mushroomed in the attic, between the ceiling of the top storey and the roof. A partition in the attic between the main building and a wing assisted the firemen in checking further spread of fire. It took five hours to suppress the blaze. The carelessness of hotel servants is proverbial, and to make them realize the danger of the thoughtless throwing away of an oily rag, the improper disposal of rubbish, or of an unextinguished cigarette or cigar end may not in aptly be compared with the labours of Sisyphus. When it is remembered that in some large hotels the staff employed number about two thousand souls, the extent of the mischief can be gauged. And if servants are careless, what of the guests? Contemplate the following. Tacoma, Washington, Grand Hotel, Four-Story, Brick, Ordinary Construction. Fire started at 5.35 p.m. and was caused by a man smoking in bed. It was discovered quickly by other guests and the fire department responding promptly controlled the outbreak so that the loss was limited to seventeen thousand dollars. Comment really seems to be needless, and the protection of the individual against himself has not added to the lightning of the burden of those responsible. But probably the most terrible exemplification of the mischief which can be wrought by a thoughtless visitor is embodied in the story of the Windsor Hotel Fire. This building occupied the entire block on the east side of Fifth Avenue in New York City, between forty-sixth and forty-seventh streets. It was of antique construction, with wide halls, high ceilings, and several elevator shafts. On the seventeenth of March at three p.m., a guest in a front parlor on the second floor lighted a cigar and threw the still-blazing match out into the street. As it passed the curtains, the latter ignited, and in an instant were in flames. Without attempting to extinguish the blaze or to give an alarm, the author of this disaster fled from the room, and a few moments afterwards the head waiter, in passing by the door, caught sight of the fire, which by that time had greatly increased. Unaided he made a brave effort to subdue it, but his hands were badly burned, and it was easy to see that more help was needed. The St. Patrick's Day parade was passing at that time. The streets were lined with spectators and guarded by policemen. Interested onlookers were leaning out of the windows of the hotel itself, and the strains of many brass bands deadened all other sound. As the head waiter, calling fire, ran into the street and endeavored to reach an alarm box, which, unfortunately, was situated on the other side of Fifth Avenue, he was prevented from crossing by a puzzled policeman who could not understand the excited man's incoherent explanations above the din of the music. But the smoke and flames soon told their own story, and a first, second, and finally a fourth alarm were sent in. Owing to the construction of the building, the flames ascended both by way of the halls and in and out of windows to the top floor with great rapidity. In spite of the desperate efforts on the part of the fire department, who were handicapped by a poor water supply, before four p.m. the hotel was in ruins, a little later the only wall to remain standing slid down to its base like a closing fan. By seven p.m. the fire was under control, and the safety of a joining property was assured. Of the many guests and servants who had been watching the procession, fourteen were dead and about fifty injured. Some of them had attempted to use the safety ropes which had been placed in each bedroom, but the friction on their hands became too great and they were forced to let go and meet their doom in the streets. One handsomely dressed woman on the fourth floor held out her arms as though imploring aid from above. Then, without a cry, she jumped, turning over and over as she fell until she struck the iron railing below. At one window appeared a woman bearing in her arms a child. Terrified by the flames which were licking the sill from the floor beneath, she threw the child into the street and an instant later followed. Many rescues were affected by the firemen who mounted on ladders and dragged to safety some of the occupants, and if others had not been panic-stricken by the proximity of the danger and had possessed sufficient courage to await the arrival of help, many of those who jumped to death might have been saved. Behind the hotel and connected with it from the interior was a Russian bath establishment where a number of patrons were enjoying the pleasures of treatment. They were obliged to make the best of their way out, clad in sheets, towels, or whatever articles of clothing were nearest to hand. Two men in the hotel who were vainly hunting for a fire escape were met by a trained nurse who said that she could conduct them through her room to the object of their search. When they had entered, however, she put her back against the door and told them that they must assist her in carrying her patient, a helpless old lady in a wheeled chair, to a place of safety. In other words, this plucky woman had invented this scheme in order to save the life of her charge, and the men infected by her courage did as she requested, and all four gained the street without mishap. All this owing to an act of carelessness on the part of a visitor whose identity, by the way, has never been discovered to this day. Prevention is, of course, better than cure, but next to that is promptness of action, both direct and indirect. That is to say, an outbreak of fire should be detected as soon as possible, which may be accomplished either automatically by sprinklers, by a watchman who registers his inspection visits on a clock, or by both. It must never be forgotten that every minute lost means ten times the additional risk. The following type of case is, unfortunately, too common. Sioux City, Iowa, Mondomin Hotel, Four Stories Brick, Ordinary Construction, Unprotected Floor Openings. Fire started 8.20 p.m. in boiler room in basement, discovered by Outsider who transmitted alarm. Since discovery of the fire was delayed, fire department was unable to control it. Lost $120,000. A watchman at $10 a week would not have been an extravagant rate of insurance. Again contrast the following. Lansing, Michigan, Downey Hotel, Six Story, Brick, Ordinary Construction, Hollow Finish, Unprotected Floor Openings, Cause of Fire, a heated bearing in or an electrical defect in elevator motor in penthouse overroof of elevator shaft, discovered 5.59 p.m. by Hotel Employee, alarm received by fire department 6.25, fire burned until 8 a.m. the next day, lost over $100,000. Little Rock, Arkansas, Gleason's Hotel, Four Story, Brick, Ordinary Construction, Hollow Finish, Unprotected Floor Openings, fire caused by electric motor at top of elevator shaft, discovered by employee at 1.08 a.m., box alarm transmitted immediately, fire controlled in thirty minutes and confined to locality of origin, loss $2,300, less than three percent of values. A better exemplification of the advantages of prompt action could not be imagined. The notifying of guests in hotels of an outbreak of fire is of supreme importance, since as a rule such outbreaks occur at night when most of the inmates are asleep. It is a good scheme to have an alarm gong fitted in the bedrooms, which should be operated from the reception bureau or some other central position. But even such methods should be supplemented by personal calls from members of the staff. This will go a long way towards preventing panic, of which there is a danger if the gong alone is used. As for fire escapes, this is a vast and intricate subject. Time and again have persons been injured on narrow fire escapes. While, as stated in the Windsor Hotel fire, a rope provides only a last and desperate means of exit. Some hotels are now erected with fire escape towers, which completely cut off the flames and ensure an open road to safety. But it is impossible to lay down any hard and fast rules for the construction and placing of contrivances, since, to a certain extent, the design of the building must be taken into consideration, and in all cases sufficient and careful thought should be given to these matters. It hardly seems credible that there should be hotels devoid of even a hand chemical grenade, yet fire chiefs frequently report that such is the case. Every establishment of a certain size should not only be properly equipped with hand and chemical extinguishers, but should also be possessed of a private fire department. The formation of such an organisation offers no particular difficulty, and in the opinion of the writer is as worthy of advertisement in hotel announcements as such hackneyed phrases as unsurpassed cuisine, moderate terms, and unrivaled view. The casual visitor would sleep just as soundly were he deprived of those three remarkable benefits, but he might be forgiven for passing a restless night where he haunted by the terrors of fire due to poor fire control, and now to come to an all-engrossing portion of the theme under discussion, namely why fires spread so rapidly in hotels. In nearly all such buildings there is a lack of subdivision of floor area, although in some cities an interior wall of incabustible material is required between every set of four rooms, this extending from foundations to roof. In one of the latest New York hotels the partitions between rooms are of hollow tile, the doors of steel, and the transoms glazed with wire glass. Even the trim and picture moldings are of metal. That this is the very height of perfection in fire control may be gathered from the fact that in this same hotel an outbreak recently occurred amongst some furniture stored on an upper floor. The furniture was completely destroyed, but the room was habitable twenty-four hours later, while the adjoining premises were unharmed. Unprotected floor openings, like the poor, are ever with us and embody the most glaring structural defect imaginable. Their retention is virtually a crime, especially considering the facility with which this risk can be remedied. Cases without number might be cited, of the prominent part played by this avoidable fault in hotel conflagrations, but the two following may be quoted as typical. At a hotel in a Kansas city the stairway encircled the elevator shaft, a form of suicidal internal architecture peculiarly popular in England and on the continent of Europe. The fire started early in the morning in the basement, cutting off the escape of the guests, many of whom jumped from windows, while others slid down ropes made of bed clothing. The other hails from Onianta, New York. Central Hotel, fire discovered at three thirty a.m. under basement stairs by clerk. No private fire appliances, fire department handicapped by wires in street, rope fire escapes only, three lives lost. In such terse language is summed up the result of unprotected floor openings. Fire and smoke naturally ascend, and hence it is of paramount importance that not only should stairways and elevator shafts, dumb waders, pipe and wire chases, be of fireproof construction, but each opening should be entirely enclosed by fireproof materials. Elevators and stairways should always be separated, the encircling stair and the latticework elevator shaft being an invention of the fire fiend himself. The shaft of an elevator may well be compared to a factory chimney. Everyone knows that the giant smokestacks, which dot the hillsides of any manufacturing neighborhood, have not been erected with a view to the picturesque. Rather their purpose is strictly utilitarian. The higher the chimney, the greater the draft, the fiercer the fire, and the more tremendous the heat. It is exactly the same with an elevator shaft with a fire at the bottom, which, if closed at the top, has the effect of drawing up the smoke and heat, which form the primal obstacles to escape by inmates on the upper floors. Thereafter the fire spreads laterally and downward. Hence these shafts should be rendered as completely firetight as compartments in a ship are constructed watertight. Finally, elevator machinery should be placed at the top of a shaft, as the lubricating oil and grease used on its running parts form ready material for the flames. The same may be said to apply to stairways, though in this connection it may be remarked that particular attention should be paid to the basement and attic entrances of the same, as it sometimes occurs that these are left unguarded and these two points constitute as a rule the beginning and the end of hotel fires. Interior light-courts are also a source of danger, especially when roofed over. All windows looking onto such courts should be glazed with wire glass, and as a matter of fact light wells should never be roofed. As regards hollow finish, the following two examples explain the danger more succinctly than columns of technicalities. Putnam Connecticut, Chickering Hotel. Three stories and basement, wood walls, ordinary construction, hollow finish, mansard roof. Fire started in basement near Boiler, discovered at 1.30 a.m. by a passer-by, burned six hours, lost $19,000, about 55% of values. Chief of Fire Department said, the fire worked up inside partitions to the roof. There was not a square yard of flooring burned in any place. Excelsior Springs, Missouri, New Elms Hotel. Three story and basement, stone building. Fire started at 1.30 a.m. in Colbin, outside of building, discovered promptly and quick alarm sent in. No private fire protection and fire department handicapped by weak water pressure. Fire chief's reasons for spread of fire as follows. There were no firewalls in the building. There were wide spaces between ceilings and floors to act as deadeners, and it was through these spaces that the fire spread through the building, and made it difficult for firemen to get water at the right place at the right time. This system of introducing deadeners is a concession to the visitors, who naturally enough dislike noise and who otherwise would be disturbed by their neighbors. It can be rendered safe or at any rate partially so by filling up these spaces either with asbestos or mineral wool. Ventilation systems should also be carefully supervised, as on occasion they may prove responsible for serious fire risk. The following instance is illustrative of the care which must be exercised over hotel design, where, be it remembered, panic is above all else to be avoided. In a New York hotel a huge volume of smoke suddenly filled a crowded dining room. The cause was the burning of a heap of rubbish which had been placed too close to the air intake of the ventilating fan, which drafted the smoke and blew it on through the ventilating system. Nothing more serious than the annoyance and discomfort of the guests resulted, but the draperies and decorations were all damaged by the smoke. Had the intake been located higher up or had it been arranged to close with movable louvers the trouble would not have occurred. Fire exposure or the danger to be apprehended from fires originating nearby and in turn communicating with a hotel can to a great degree be guarded against by the fitting of window openings with hollow metal sashes glazed with wire glass. That this risk is not so remote as might be supposed may be seen from the following. Oakland, California, St. Mark's Hotel. Eight stories reinforced concrete. Fire started in Sign Painters' Shop in second story of adjoining building and burned out windows of hotel which were sashed with wood. Kansas City, Missouri, Ormond Hotel. Five stories, brick. Fire originated in garage adjoining between ceiling of first and floor of second story. Cause defective electric wiring. Garage employees delayed sending in an alarm. Fire department handicapped by headway of fire, height of hotel and weak water pressure. Insurance loss one hundred forty thousand dollars, values three hundred ten thousand dollars. It goes without saying that hotels as frequently burn other buildings and that these remarks may be taken as being applicable to all houses of whatever type. Of course it may be urged that this use of wire glass is deplorable from an aesthetic point of view, which with some people counts for more than common sense and the protection of life and limb. For such artistic souls it is impossible to cater, though it is fortunate that with the majority of the community fire risks are more important than landscapes, however inspiring. Which introduces the conclusion of the subject. It has been demonstrated ad nauseam in the preceding pages that hotel fires are very real contingencies against which to prepare. And it has been shown that the fire proof hotel is not yet to be considered as practical politics. But it can be made fire resistive, and that with a degree of certainty which will minimize the risk to an appreciable extent. The automatic sprinkler will do everything except start a fire. As explained elsewhere its construction is simplicity itself. While not only does it automatically damp down an incipient blaze, but in addition will operate a fire alarm, ensuring that there is no delay on the part of either employees or fire department in tackling the enemy. It is perfectly possible to install this system in the public rooms of a hotel and yet interfere not at all with the decorative scheme which would be treason in the eyes of some. In one building so protected the sprinklers number no less than sixteen hundred, the source of water supply being a twenty thousand gallon tank elevated twenty-five feet above the roof and two six-inch connections with the city main. By this method it is possible for a room to be burnt out and the fire subdued without the damage to property and the excitement amongst guests which would be caused by the arrival of a brigade and the subsequent operating of hose pipes through the hall and stairways and through windows. The sprinkler system is in fact the silent guardian of life and property which slumbers not nor sleeps and which can be relied upon as a rule. A rise in temperature, one hundred sixty degrees Fahrenheit on the floor is sufficient and the sprinkler starts to work, sending down a drenching stream upon the affected area and warning all in sundry that there is an enemy at hand. At a recent fire in a hotel guarded in this fashion one of the guests rang and complained of a water pipe located just above his bed which had burst suddenly and awakened him from his beauty sleep. His indignation was unbounded and in the morning he demanded an apology from the manager which was smilingly forthcoming. But that individual did not think it necessary to explain to the irate guest that the room above his, an unoccupied one, had caught fire and that the lives of some five hundred guests had been quietly and quickly saved by an inconspicuous sprinkler. Section 14 of Fires and Firefighters by John Kenlon. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 13 Theatres and Fire Panics The problems affecting fire control in places of public amusement are amongst the most intricate demanding solution by fire departments. For here the human element becomes an important factor in the situation. And though every safeguard scientific ingenuity can devise may be adopted, and though thousands of dollars may be expended in the installation of the most modern and complete equipment of that nature, it lies within the power of one small boy in the gallery who thoughtlessly calls out, fire, to transform an assembly of happy pleasure seekers into a shambles. That is to say, unless some scheme of controlling an audience in moments of emergency can be devised, and towards this end many fire protection associations are working. Hence, in treating the subject, it will be convenient first to consider the active measures demanded by municipalities from the managers of theatres for the public safety, then to give an example of an actual theatre fire, drawing from it the obvious deductions, and finally to touch on audiences themselves. Broadly speaking theatre safety depends upon the situation and convenience of exits, the use of the fireproof curtain completely separating the stage from the auditorium, the installation of a system of automatic sprinklers in places where much inflammable material is to be found, such as in scenery docks, and minute attention to such details as the provision of fireproof scenery and the caging in of all lights electric and otherwise. Perhaps it will be simplest to give the regulations suggested for or existing in New York on this subject, which may be accepted as representing the standard requirements. Standpipes four inches in diameter must be provided with hose attachments on every floor and gallery, one on each side of the auditorium in every tier, and one on each side of the stage in every tier. In addition, there must be at least one in the property room and one in the carpenter's shop if the latter be contiguous to the building. All these standpipes must be kept clear from obstruction and be fitted with the regulation couplings of the fire department. They must be kept constantly filled with water by means of an automatic power pump of sufficient capacity to supply all the lines of hose when operated simultaneously. This pump must be ready for immediate use at all times during a performance. A separate and distinct system of automatic sprinklers with fusible plugs supplied with water from a tank situated on the roof over the stage and not connected in any manner with the standpipes must be placed on each side of the proscenium opening and on the ceiling over the stage at such intervals as will protect every square foot of stage surface when they are in operation. Wherever practicable these sprinklers must also be placed in the dressing rooms, under the stage and in the carpenter's shop, paint rooms, store and property rooms. A sufficient quantity of hose fitted with regulation couplings and with nozzles and hose spanners must be kept attached to holders. For immediate use on the stage there must always be kept in readiness four casks full of water and two buckets to each cask, all to be painted red. There must also be provided hand pumps or other portable fire-extinguishing apparatus and at least four axes and six hooks of different lengths on each floor of the stage. Every portion of the building devoted to the accommodation of the public, as well as all outlets leading to the streets, must be well and properly lighted during the performance and the lights must not be extinguished until the entire audience has left the premises. The illumination of all parts of the building used by the audience, with the exception of the auditorium, must be controlled from the lobby by a separate shut-off. Gas and electric mains supplying the theatre must have independent connections for the auditorium and the stage, and provision must be made for shutting off the gas from outside the building. All suspended or bracket lights surrounded by glass in any portion of the theatre used by the public must be provided with wire netting protection. No gas or electric lights must be inserted in the walls, woodwork, ceilings or in any part of the building unless protected by fire-proof materials. The footlights, when not electric, in addition to the wire network, must be protected with a strong wire guard and chain placed not less than two feet distant, and the trough containing the footlights must be composed of and surrounded by fire-proof material. All border lights must be subject to the approval of the department of buildings and be suspended for ten feet by wire rope. All stage lights must have strong metal wire guards not less than eight inches in diameter, so constructed that any material in contact therewith is out of reach of the flames. The bridge calcium lights at the sides of the proscenium shall be enclosed in front and on the side by galvanized iron so that no drop can come in contact with the lights. Electric calciums, so called, are included in the above requirements. Standpipes and all apparatus for the extinction of fire or for guarding against the same must be in charge and under the control of the fire department, and the commissioner is responsible for the carrying out of these regulations. A diagram of each tier, gallery, or floor showing distinctly the exits therefrom, each plan occupying a space of not less than fifteen square inches must be legibly printed in black lines on the program of every performance. Every exit must have over the inside of the door the word exit painted in legible letters not less than eight inches high. All exit doors must open outwards and be fastened with movable bolts, which must be kept drawn during performances. No doors shall open immediately upon a flight of stairs, but a landing of reasonable width shall be allowed between them. The proscenium opening must be provided with a fireproof metal curtain or one constructed of asbestos, overlapping the brick proscenium wall at each side not less than twelve inches, and sliding vertically at each side within the iron channels of a depth of not less than twelve inches. These grooves must be securely bolted to the wall and must extend to a height of not less than three feet above the top of the curtain when raised to its full limit. This curtain should be raised at the commencement of each performance, lowered between each act and again lowered at the end of the performance. This system is now regularly enforced in Chicago. If the curtain be made of asbestos, that material must be reinforced with wire, while to ensure its remaining taut and its easy descent, a rigid metallic bar of sufficient weight must be firmly attached to its base. The excess weight of the curtain is to be overcome by a check-rope of cotton or hemp, extending to the floor on both sides of the stage, so that its cutting or burning will release the curtain, which will then descend at its normal rate of speed. This curtain shall at no point be nearer the footlights than three feet. As regards doorways, none shall be allowed through the proscenium from the auditorium above the first floor, and all doorways shall have self-closing standard fire-doors on each side of the wall. Openings, if any, below the stage must each have self-closing fire-doors, and all such doors must be hung so as to permit of opening from either side at all times. Near the center of the highest part of the stage should be constructed one or more ventilators of incombustible material extending at least ten feet above the stage roof, and of an area equal to at least twelve percent of the area within the stage walls. Openings in these ventilators should be closed by valves so counterbalanced as to open automatically, and kept shut by cords in which must be inserted a fusible link at a point near the bottom of the ventilator. This cord should be fastened on the stage floor level near the prompter's desk, so that in case of necessity it can be easily reached and severed. All that portion of the stage not comprised in the working of scenery, traps, and other mechanical apparatus, and usually equal to the width of the proscenium opening, should be built of fire-resisting material. The fly and tie galleries should be constructed of iron or steel, while the grid iron or rigging loft should have a lattice iron floor and be readily accessible by iron stairways. All stage scenery, curtains and decorations, and all woodwork on or about the stage, should be saturated with some non-combustible material, and this should apply likewise to all finishing coats of paint given to woodwork. A strong feature should also be made of a careful and thorough examination before and after a performance of all fire apparatus by the fireman, whether municipal or private, attached to the theatre for professional duties. This in brief standardizes the main features regarded by experts as embracing the minimum demands consistent with the safety of the public, and they have been given in some detail, since, shorn of picturesque narrative, they are more likely to receive attention from the serious-minded. A better example of a calamitous fire at a theatre, attended with appalling loss of life, could not be selected than that of the Iroquois Theatre in Chicago. On the thirtieth of December 1903, two thousand women and children crowded to a matinee performance of a musical extravaganza called Mr. Bluebeard. The theatre had the reputation of being the largest, safest and newest in Chicago, and had seating accommodation for one thousand seven hundred forty persons. Holidays were in full swing, and being the last afternoon performance of the old year, it drew hundreds of little ones with their happy parents, not alone from the city itself but from many towns in the vicinity. The house was consequently packed, many people willingly standing at the backs of the galleries in order to see the celebrated Eddie Foy, the chief laugh-maker of the play. A particularly popular song was in progress, and children and grown-ups were absorbed in watching eight pretty girls and eight young men singing and dancing to the strains of the fine orchestra, when suddenly a large piece of burning muslin border fell upon the stage. Unknown to actors and audience the spotlight had fused, or so it was suspected, and stage-hands with sticks had been fighting the fire for some moments in the wings, before this ominous herald made its unwelcome appearance in full view of all. The singers gasped and wavered, the orchestra ceased with a crash. For the space of a heartbeat there was silence. Then a curious figure bearing a small child staggered from the wings to the footlights. It was Eddie Foy, and the child was his son. Hurriedly he passed the boy to the conductor, and the grotesque appearance of the comedian clad only in his tights and minus half his grease-paint momentarily distracted the attention of the audience from the flames behind him. For God's sake play and keep on playing, he implored the leader of the orchestra in hushed tones, and the musicians responded to his appeal with trembling hands and uncertain fingers. Meanwhile desperate efforts were being made to lower the fire-proof curtain, which, bellying in owing to a draft from the auditorium, jammed and descended only a few feet. As the flames spurted out beneath its edge, a woman's shriek rang out, and of the horror which ensued few of the survivors can bring themselves to speak. Fire and smoke, driven from the stage, swept up to the galleries, where a panic had already started. Mothers wrapping their arms about their children were trampled underfoot in the wild rush of despair. Then the stage loft collapsed, a column of flame rose from the ground to the ceiling, and the theatre was plunged in darkness, while the battle of life continued in one crescendo of horror. All unconscious of the tragedy being enacted within its stone's throw, some painters in a building opposite one of the balcony exits, suddenly saw a man standing on the escape. As they looked, the red glare of fire on the story below him showed them that his way to safety had been cut off, and that his need was desperate. Running out a ladder from their window to where he stood, they urged him to cross. But ladder and man slipped from the coping and plunged, with a sickening thud, into the street below. And now more crazed creatures were making their way to this narrow platform, and of them twelve were drawn to safety on some planks. By this time, however, the fire was above, beside, and beneath them, and women and children, packed like sardines, helpless to move, were roasted slowly alive before the eyes of their would-be rescuers. When the firemen succeeded in entering the charnel house, they were confronted by a wall of bodies ten feet in height and seven feet in width. It was impossible to believe that amongst these distorted forms could have remained any living person, but the fire-martial called to the surrounding silence, is there any one living here? There was no reply, and the men made their way over this ghastly barricade in search of perchance one survivor. Out of the two thousand merry-makers who had entered the theatre buoyant with happy expectations, six hundred and two were carried to the morgue. It was found by the exploring firemen that those in the second balcony had suffered most, in their futile efforts to descend the stairs. The sight was a horrible one. Wedged in a solid mass which had practically lost all semblance of humanity, were what had once been men, women, and children twisted and entwined together in their death-struggles. In the vice-like grip of usually feeble hands were found bits of cloth, fragments of jewelry, and strands of hair evidently wrenched from their possessors in that hideous carnival of terror. One poor woman, from being bent back over a seat, had not only a broken spine, but had become practically dismembered through the pressure placed upon her. While in many instances faces had become so distorted as to be unrecognizable even to near-relatives, others who had bravely kept their seats and withstood the spur of panic, fear, had been overcome by smoke and gas, and at least had received as their reward a peaceful death. A fire-captain observing one of his men carrying the body of a girl called to him, we've got no time for that sort of thing now, we must get on. To his surprise the man raised a tear-stained face and said brokenly, Captain, I've got one of my own about this age, so if you don't mind I'll carry this little one out. The captain silently handed him a blanket, and unrebuke'd he bore his sad burden to the door. Those there were whose hearts were too hardened to be touched by the piteous spectacle which had unnerved the strongest-minded, these unspeakable creatures lurked and crouched in corners waiting for the opportunity to pull a ring from a powerless hand or to wrench a brooch from a motionless form. Over the scenes at the identification it is unnecessary to linger. Suffice it to say that so widespread was the sympathy evoked by this terrible catastrophe that for many days following Chicago was a city of mourning, all festivities being suspended. The distressing incidents accompanying this outbreak have not been dwelt upon with the idea of satiating a morbid curiosity, but rather because they bring home forcibly to the general reader some notion of what a theatre panic really means. To how many has the question ever occurred when seated at a theatre and enjoying a play, what should I do if someone shouted fire now? Should I push and fight and struggle, or should I remain calmly in my place? It is this question of the personal equation which makes fire-control in theatres a problem at once perplexing and all-important. Obviously the first step towards the safety of theatre audiences must come from a properly equipped and constructed building. Next, the records of almost every theatre disaster show that the critical moment in determining the fate of the audience is that immediately following the first indication of alarm. Hence, the training of theatre attendance should be directed rather towards the prevention of panic than to the regulation of the movements of a panic-stricken audience. For one thing, the wide disparity in numbers between the available house force and the audience would clearly render abortive any attempt at such regulation. There are, however, well-defined principles which, if carefully observed, will materially assist in directing the movements of an audience in case of fire. Firstly, to ensure the best results, all employees permanently connected to the theatre should be organized into exit drill companies, each individual member being assigned a special duty. While it is both necessary and important that the individual units of these companies should be instructed in the handling and use of fire equipment and grounded in the rudiments of fire extinction, the paramount consideration is the safety of the audience, and every available means should be utilized of rendering assistance to the ushers whose business it is to obtain its prompt and orderly departure. All fire signals should be transmitted by an electrically operated alarm system, the recording apparatus of which should be placed in the main business office, the box office, and the stage manager's office. Upon receipt of an alarm by the stage manager, or when fire is discovered in the stage section before an alarm is struck, the curtain should be dropped immediately, and the stage manager, one of the actors or the fireman on duty, should go before the curtain and announce the discontinuance of the performance. Upon the wording of that announcement and the manner of its delivery will largely depend the behavior of the audience, and hence it is strongly recommended that a form of announcement should be prepared in advance, and copies thereof placed in the hands of the various stage employees, it should be brief and to the point, something after the following is recommended. I am instructed by the management to announce that it will be necessary to discontinue the performance and immediately to dismiss the audience. Everyone in leaving the house should implicitly follow the directions of the ushers stationed in each aisle. Of course the use of music, a lively march or something of a stirring character, is an excellent means of keeping an audience in hand and getting them away without unnecessary fuss or excitement. But this again presupposes an element of control over the orchestra, which it would be almost impossible to ensure unless the same musicians were permanently employed, and the management were satisfied that they could be relied upon to do their duty in case of emergency. Otherwise, obviously, they would be worse than useless and would probably only augment signs of unrest in the most undesirable quarters. Another excellent method would appear to be to have a large plan of the theatre, with exits clearly marked, painted on the fire curtain, and exhibited for a few moments during each entre act. After the announcement of the cessation of the performance has been made from the stage, the ushers should move forward to their respective aisles, and by word of mouth should quietly instruct their charges as to the speediest way to the street. For the assignment of exits, the seat plan on each floor should be divided into sections, and to each section there should be assigned certain exits, according to the relative discharging capacities, so that the time required for discharging the number apportioned to any one exit would average about the same for all. Each usher and doorman should be provided with a copy of the seating plan, on which would be indicated the exit assignments in detail. Ushers should, of course, be required to remain on duty by their respective exits during all performances. Fire alarm boxes should be placed in positions where they can be conveniently reached, but never in view of the audience. For the average theatre there should be a box on each side of the parquet on the wall, and in the rear of the last row of seats, as well as one in the front hall. For balcony and galleries there should be also two boxes, one on each side, behind the last row of seats. For the stage there should be one box on the rear wall, a box on each side near the proscenium wall, and, when necessary, boxes in the dressing rooms and the carpenters' shop. The boxes in the auditorium should, above all, else operate as noiselessly as possible, as a signal therefrom heard by the audience would probably be more productive of panic than even the sight of the actual fire. All theatres should be in direct communication with fire headquarters. The system of assigning regular or pensioned firemen in uniform or of maintaining private firemen in uniform, where the regular force may be unduly depleted by such assignment to theatres, is to be commended. Their presence undoubtedly does much to inspire confidence and reassure an audience in moments of excitement, while naturally their superior knowledge and skill enables them to render valuable assistance when required. Finally there should be prominently displayed illuminated signs, not only over the exits themselves, but in all conspicuous places with arrows indicating the shortest and easiest route by which the street may be reached. No doubt the writer will be told that he has suggested councils of perfection, and that if the caution practical experience demands in theatres, and which is embodied in this chapter, became law, theatrical managers would spend all their time in looking after minute details and audiences would resent being treated like children. Yet as a matter of fact, in moments of crisis grown people are very often akin to children, which is evidenced by the fact that under such circumstances it is extraordinary how few otherwise level-headed persons will for one moment think of leaving a theatre by any door other than that through which they entered, quite irrespective of convenience of location. And hence it is that those in control must devise means to prevent them doing just those things which are worst for them, even at the risk of some unpopularity. And a fire in a theatre or a panic arising from an alarm of one, as has been shown, may lead to such ghastly results that it becomes the duty of all municipal governments to do all in their power to prevent such an occurrence. The writer, without wishing to appear extreme, is of opinion that some limitation should be placed upon the seating capacity of theatres as distinct from stadia and places of that nature. An audience of 1800 is sufficient to tax all the resources of those responsible in emergencies, and is about the maximum number which can conveniently and quickly pass out of any theatre, without causing untold confusion in the street which will in its turn hamper the fire-forces. Equally, however, a theatre run along the lines indicated will not only promise the maximum of safety, but without exaggeration will afford its patrons a greater amount of security than as a rule they will find in their own homes. End of Section 14. Recording by Maria Casper.