NIGHT AMONG THE RUINS
As night approached the problem of protecting the seventeen thousand
refugees and their goods confronted those in authority, and it was
realized that it was too great for the local artillery company and the
detail from the Marine Corps to handle. The State was called upon for
more military assistance and eight companies of the Coast Artillery,
four of the Fifth Infantry, six of the Eighth Infantry, and four of the
First Corps of Cadets were rushed to the scene, making twelve hundred
troops on duty before morning. At ten thirty the city was declared
under martial law, and no one was allowed in or out until morning.
Seven hundred tents and seven hundred and fifty blankets were ordered
down from the barracks at South Framingham, and a special train with
Battalion Adjutant Kendall in charge brought them through in record
time, arriving shortly after midnight. All trains on the Boston and
Maine, and all electric cars on the Boston and Northern and the Boston
Elevated had been stopped. The Chelsea Ferry was commanded to cease
its trips and a cordon of soldiers was thrown entirely about the city.
At the principal approaches it is estimated that one hundred thousand
curious people were turned back. The telephone exchange had been burned
and of course the service was useless. Early in the day the electric
power plant was shut down to prevent death by live wires, and the
streets outside the burned district would have been dark, but for the
glow which was reflected from the sky and the moon, which dimly beamed
through the pall of smoke. At the Court House, where scores of injured
were taken in ambulances, doctors and nurses, under charge of Dr. J.
A. Johnson, worked as best they could by the light of lanterns.
In the court room were homeless women huddled in gray despairing heaps
on the hard benches. At the back of the room rows of rubber-coated
men leaned back on their hard benches, their inflamed eyes completely
hidden by squares of soft absorbent cotton, soaked with ointments,
which showed up with startling effect against their blackened faces. In
the center of the room, under the sickly ray of a red lantern, stood
the big court table piled high with thick square loaves of bread,
big four-gallon cans of milk, and fifty-gallon cans of coffee. At
either end of this table were well-dressed women, their faces pale and
haggard, one cutting slices of bread and others pouring coffee. Men ate
in huge gulps and drank from thick white mugs and quart dippers, then
rushed out to the fire, taking handfuls of food to those who could not
leave their engines. The difference between the room, with its misery
and confusion, and the orderly hall of justice for which it had served
up to that day, was as marked a contrast as could readily be imagined.
All night long ambulances dashed from the ruins to the United States
Naval Hospital, where, under the direction of Medical Inspector H.
E. Ames of the United States Navy the majority of the injured were
treated, and to the United States Marine and Soldiers’ Home hospitals,
and but for the unflagging efforts of the hospital sergeants, doctors,
and nurses many more lives would have been lost.
[Illustration: RUINS OF THE CENTRAL CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH]
One man, when picked up by the ambulance with his face and arms
terribly burned, was nearly dead. Attempts were made to learn his name
in case he should die, but in reply to the attendant’s question he only
moaned, “My God! My God!” Another man was picked up with both legs
broken, still another had a terrible gash in his forehead caused by
a falling wall, another man fell from a roof and broke two ribs, and so
it went. In all, three hundred injured persons were treated.
Mayor Beck, who had lost his home and his newspaper plant, was
everywhere, and it was nearly morning when he lay down on a policeman’s
cot at the station for a few hours’ sleep. Many of the policemen who
were on duty lost their homes, but stuck to their posts, although they
did not know where their wives and families were.
About midnight a gang of men started to clear the street railway tracks
on Broadway and Everett Avenue, which are the outlets from Boston
to many of the northern suburbs. In places they were piled several
feet high with bricks, granite blocks, and other debris. The rails
themselves had been twisted and bent into all conceivable shapes by
the heat, and the trolley wires and poles were down. In spite of the
several miles of track thus destroyed the company ran cars through
the city the second day after the fire. Through the orders of Henry
Mitchell, chairman of the High School Committee, the doors of the
High School on Crescent Avenue had been thrown open early in the day
to hundreds of women and children who were wandering aimlessly about
the streets and parks. The corridors were now filled to overflowing
with sobbing women, little children, and a few old men. Husbands and
brothers were out hunting for relatives, directing people to shelter
or helping in some other way. Few men slept during that night, and
hundreds had their eyes so badly burned and inflamed by the smoke and
heat that they were in great pain.
The High School could hold only a limited number, and it was pitiful
to see women and children huddled together for warmth in little groups
along the railroad tracks, in the parks, or in side streets. Thousands
flocked to Powderhorn Hill and spent the night sobbing out some story
of woe to any bystander who might seem at all interested.
During the evening a citizens’ meeting was held in the High School,
which was attended by many prominent men. A Relief Committee was formed
to care for the destitute and needy. Mr. Wm. E. McClintock, chairman
of the State Highway Commission, was chosen chairman; City Treasurer
Thomas B. Frost, treasurer, and Benjamin P. Nichols, secretary. After
sending out the following letter of appeal the meeting was adjourned
until eight o’clock in the morning.
“Chelsea, April 12, 1908.
“We have been visited by a most terrible catastrophe. One half
the area of our city has been swept by fire. Fifteen thousand
people are homeless.
“Twelve million dollars’ worth of property has been destroyed.
Our business section is almost wholly wiped out. We are in sore
need. We have not lost our courage, but are applying ourselves
with all our ability to the task before us.
“But that task is stupendous, and we ask assistance of all who
are beneficently inclined. He who gives quickly gives double.
Subscriptions may be sent to City Treasurer Thomas B. Frost.”
(Signed)
“JOHN E. BECK,
“Mayor of Chelsea.
“WILLIAM E. MCCLINTOCK,
“Chairman of Relief Committee.”
Later it was decided to accept no aid outside the State of
Massachusetts.
[Illustration:
COPYRIGHT, JUDGE CO., 1908
A VAST EXPANSE OF RUINS]