Before the great inrush of agricultural settlers, in 1836, most of the
surface of Wisconsin was covered with dense forests. In the northern
portion of the State, pines, hemlocks, and spruce predominated, mingled
with large areas of hard wood; elsewhere, hard wood chiefly prevailed,
the forests in the southern and eastern portions being frequently broken
by large prairies and by small treeless "openings."
In the great northern pine woods, lumbermen have been busy for many
years. They leave in their wake great wastes of land, some of it covered
with dead branches from the trees that have been felled and trimmed;
some so sterile that the sun, now allowed to enter, in a rainless summer
bakes the earth and dries the spongy swamps; while all about are great
masses of dead stumps, blasted trunks, and other forest debris. Settlers
soon pour in, purchase the best of this cut-over land, and clear the
ground for farms. But there are still left in Wisconsin great stretches
of deforested country, as yet unsettled; some of these areas are
worthless except for growing new forests, an enterprise which, some day,
the State government will undertake for the benefit of the
commonwealth.
Now and then, in dry seasons, great fires start upon these "pine
barrens," or "slashings," as they are called, and spread until often
they cause great loss to life and property. These conflagrations
originate in many ways, chiefly from the carelessness of hunters or
Indians, in their camps, or from sparks from locomotives, or bonfires
built by farmers for the destruction of rubbish.
Nearly every summer and autumn these forest fires occur more or less
frequently in northern Wisconsin, working much damage in their
neighborhoods; but usually they exhaust themselves when they reach a
swamp, a river, or cleared fields. When, however, there has been an
exceptionally long period of drought, everything in the cut-over lands
becomes excessively dry; the light, thin soil, filled with dead roots
and encumbered by branches and stumps, becomes as inflammable as tinder;
the dried-up marshes generate explosive gases.
The roaring flames, once started in such a season, are fanned by the
winds which the heat generates, and, gathering strength, roll forward
with resistless impetus; dense, resinous forest growths succumb before
their assault, rivers are leaped by columns of fire, and everything goes
down before the destroyer. In a holocaust of this character, all
ordinary means of fire fighting are in vain; the houses and barns of
settlers feed the devouring giant, whole towns are swept away, until at
last the flames either find nothing further upon which to feed, or are
quenched by a storm of rain.
The most disastrous forest conflagration which Wisconsin has known,
occurred during the 8th and 9th of October, 1871. There had been a
winter with little snow, and a long, dry summer. Fires had been noticed
in the pine forests which line the shores of Green Bay, as early as the
first week in September. At first they did not create much alarm; they
smouldered along the ground through the vegetable mold, underbrush, and
"slashings," occasionally eating out the roots of a great tree, which,
swayed by the wind, would topple over with a roar, and send skyward a
shower of sparks.
Gradually the "fire belt" broadened, and, finding better fuel, the
flames strengthened; the swamps began to burn, to a depth of several
feet; over hundreds of square miles the air was thick and stifling with
smoke, so that the sun at noonday appeared like a great copper ball set
on high; at night the heavens were lurid. Miles of burning woods were
everywhere to be seen; hundreds of haystacks in the meadows, and great
piles of logs and railroad ties and telegraph poles were destroyed.
For many weeks the towns along the bay shore were surrounded by cordons
of threatening flame. The people of Pensaukee, Oconto, Little Suamico,
Sturgeon Bay, Peshtigo, and scores of other settlements, were frequently
called out by the fire bells to fight the insidious enemy; many a time
were they apparently doomed to destruction, but constant vigilance and
these occasional skirmishes for a time saved them.
Reports now began to come in, thick and fast, of settlers driven from
blazing homes, of isolated sawmills and lumber camps destroyed, of
bridges consumed, of thrilling escapes by lumbermen and farmers. On
Sunday, the 8th of October, a two days' carnival of death began. In
Brown, Kewaunee, Oconto, Door, Manitowoc, and Shawano counties the
flames, suddenly rising, swept everything within their path. Where
thriving, prosperous villages once had stood, blackened wastes appeared.
Over a thousand lives were lost, nearly as many persons were crippled,
and three thousand were in a few hours reduced to beggary. The horrors
of the scenes at New Franken, Peshtigo, and the Sugar Bush, in
particular, were such as cannot be described.
This appalling tragedy chanced to occur at the same time as vast prairie
fires in Minnesota, and the terrible conflagration which destroyed
Chicago. The civilized world stood aghast at the broad extent of the
field of needed relief; nevertheless, the frenzied appeals for aid,
issued in behalf of the Wisconsin fire sufferers, met with as generous a
response as if they alone, in that fateful month of October, were the
recipients of the nation's bounty. Train loads of clothing and
provisions, from nearly every State in the Union, soon poured into Green
Bay, which was the center of distribution; the United States government
made large gifts of clothing and rations; nearly two hundred thousand
dollars were raised, and expended under official control; and great
emergency hospitals were opened at various points, for the treatment of
sick and wounded.
As for the actual financial loss to the people of the burned district,
that could never be estimated. The soil was, in many places, burned to
the depth of several feet, nothing being left but sand and ashes; grass
roots were destroyed; bridges and culverts were gone; houses, barns,
cattle, tools, seed, and crops were no more. It was several years before
the region began again to exhibit signs of prosperity.
In the year 1894, forest fires of an appalling magnitude once more
visited Wisconsin, this time in the northwestern corner of the State.
Again had there been an exceptionally dry winter, spring, and summer.
The experience gained by lumbermen and forest settlers had made them
more cautious than before, and more expert in the fighting of fires; but
that year was one in which no human knowledge seemed to avail against
the progress of flames once started on their career of devastation.
During the summer, several fires had burned over large areas. By the
last week of July, it was estimated that five million dollars' worth of
standing pine had been destroyed. The burned and burning area was now
over fifty miles in width, the northern limit being some forty miles
south of Superior. Upon the 27th of the month, the prosperous town of
Phillips, wholly surrounded by deforested lands, was suddenly licked up
by the creeping flames, the terrified inhabitants escaping by the aid of
a railway train. Neighboring towns, which suffered to a somewhat less
degree, were Mason, Barronett, and Shell Lake.
In 1898 Wisconsin was again a heavy sufferer from the same cause. The
fires were chiefly in Barron county, upon the 29th and 30th of
September. Two hundred fifty-eight families were left destitute, and the
loss to land and property was estimated at $400,000. Relief agencies
were established in various cities of the state, and our people
responded as liberally to the urgent call for help as they had in 1871
and 1894.
A more competent official system of scientifically caring for our
forests, restricting the present wasteful cutting of timber, and
preventing and fighting forest fires, would be of incalculable benefit
to the State of Wisconsin. The annual loss by burning is alone a
terrible drain upon the resources of the people, to say nothing of the
death and untold misery which stalk in the wake of a forest fire.