The Long Flight to a Fire
Jimmy’s next chance was not long in coming. A few days after he made his
successful trip to Ringtown, Jimmy was called to the telephone in his
hangar. Mr. Johnson was speaking.
“We have just had a ‘flash’ from Cleveland,” he said, “to the effect
that there has been a terrible disaster in a hospital there. The burning
of X-ray films filled the hospital with deadly gases, and apparently
scores of people have been killed. We are getting the A. P. service, but
the story is so big we should like to have our own man on the spot. I am
sending Frank Handley over to you. Be prepared to take off the moment he
arrives. You are to cooperate with him in handling the story. Handley
knows exactly what I want and will give you directions. We especially
want good pictures. In all probability the wires will be clogged with
the volume of news matter filed. I am sending you to make sure that we
get our story and the pictures. Get them back any way you can—by wire
or by plane. But get them back. That is the important thing. Handley is
already on his way and should reach you very soon.”
“I’ll be ready for him, Mr. Johnson,” said Jimmy, “and I’ll do my level
best to carry out your orders. What is my deadline?”
“We want to be sure to catch the state edition. The presses start at
midnight sharp. You ought to be here by eleven, and you _must_ be here
by eleven-thirty at the latest.”
“I’ll be there,” said Jimmy, but little could he foresee what it was
going to cost him to make good that promise.
He hung up the telephone receiver and skipped out into the hangar to
start his engine to warming. Then he gathered up his camera, his
portable typewriter, and all the other equipment he ordinarily carried
in his plane. The cabin of his ship was especially fitted up with a
desk, where he or any one else could write. In this desk he stowed his
typewriter and camera, so they would not be thrown about in the plane in
case of rough going. In the floor of the ship there was a special
opening for the taking of photographs vertically. The sides of the ship
were lined with windows, to permit easy observation in all directions.
“We probably shall not have a minute to get anything to eat,” thought
Jimmy. “I’ll put a lunch aboard and we can eat it as we fly.”
He ran out to a near-by lunch wagon and had some sandwiches and milk
prepared for him. By the time he got back with these, a taxi was just
rolling up with Handley. Jimmy greeted his fellow reporter, whom he
liked very much, and grabbed up the latter’s little typewriter. Handley
followed with a suitcase. They stowed the luggage in the plane, which
was now ready to sail. Jimmy helped Handley buckle on a parachute. Then
he strapped on his own. They stepped into the cabin and in another
moment were climbing aloft as rapidly as Jimmy’s engine would lift them.
Once more Jimmy flew south of west to connect with the Air Mail route to
Cleveland. A slight breeze was blowing at a higher altitude, so Jimmy
went hedge-hopping along to avoid the wind as much as possible. The air
seemed “dead” to him. It felt as though a storm might be brewing. So he
plugged in with his head phones and listened for the hourly report of
the Airways Weather Bureau. He hadn’t long to wait. Soon he heard the
wireless man at Hadley Field broadcasting. Jimmy listened intently. He
learned that the weather was fair all the way to Cleveland. But the sky
was overcast and the ceiling low. Visibility was poor. There was little
wind. The prospect was for increasing cloudiness and bad weather.
“We ought to make Cleveland all right,” thought Jimmy. “It isn’t quite
400 miles from Hadley to Cleveland. There isn’t any wind to speak of, so
I won’t have to stop at Bellefonte for gas. I ought to make the trip
from Hadley in close to three hours.”
Jimmy looked down and saw that he was already almost abreast of that
airport. “In three hours,” he muttered, “I’m _going_ to be in Cleveland.
This ship can do it, and I’ll make her do it.” He opened his throttle a
little wider, and the plane darted ahead faster than ever.
Away they soared, over the flat lands of New Jersey, above the hills of
Pennsylvania, almost straight westward. As they drew near Ringtown Jimmy
studied the country closely. He wondered if Johnnie were down there
watching him.
“If he has a good pair of field-glasses,” thought Jimmy, “he will easily
be able to identify the plane. We are flying so low that he can see my
license number plainly. And he ought to be able to read the name New
York _Morning Press_ painted on the sides of the ship. I guess I’ll drop
him a greeting.”
Hastily he drew a little pad of paper from his pocket, and while he
guided the ship with his left hand scribbled this message with his right
on the pad, which he placed on his right leg.
“Hello, Johnnie. Going to Cleveland. Be back here about 9:30 to-night.
Signal me as I go over. If you have a radio sending set, get in touch
with me then. Jimmy Donnelly.”
Snatching from his pocket his handkerchief and a piece of string, Jimmy
passed them over to Handley. “Tie strings to each corner of the
handkerchief,” he shouted into his ear, “and make a little parachute. I
want to drop a message.”
Handley had the parachute made in no time. Jimmy handed him the message
for Johnnie. “Tie it fast and put a weight on it,” he shouted. “Look in
the desk.”
Handley found some linotype slugs. He tied two or three to the little
parachute. Jimmy motioned for him to toss the thing overboard. Handley
slid a window open and dropped the message for Johnnie. They were almost
directly over the little village. They could see a number of people on
the ground watching them; for Jimmy was still flying as low as he dared
to fly. The improvised parachute fluttered down, and several figures
darted toward it. But long before Jimmy’s message reached the earth,
Jimmy himself was far beyond the town. It was impossible to see what had
happened to his message, but Jimmie had no doubt it would get to Johnnie
Lee promptly.
On they roared. Jimmy’s ship was built for speed. He seldom drove it at
its fastest, for that was hard on the engine. But to-day he pushed it
along much faster than his ordinary cruising speed. He fully intended to
reach Cleveland within the specified time.
As they winged their way westward, Jimmy studied the sky intently. No
ray of sunlight anywhere penetrated the dark cloud masses. The sky had a
sullen, angry aspect. Though the air was quiet, Jimmy felt that perhaps
this was the calm before the storm. He was quite sure that the good
weather could not last until he was safely back on Long Island. So he
listened closely to the weather broadcasts and tried to read the signs
in the sky.
Jimmy made the Cleveland Airport by three o’clock. Before his ship
glided to earth, he and Handley had consumed their little luncheon, and
thus fortified were ready to plunge into the difficult task that lay
ahead of them. They waited only long enough to order their plane
serviced promptly, then they stepped into a taxi and were whirled toward
the city.
At Handley’s suggestion they drove directly to the office of the Police
Commissioner, where Handley presented his credentials and asked that he
and Jimmy be given police passes. This took a little time, but Handley
was too experienced a reporter to take any chances of delay later on.
Their request was promptly granted. Thanking the Cleveland officials,
the two New Yorkers hurried back to their taxi and were whirled off to
the scene of the disaster. So great was the jam of trucks and fire
apparatus and other vehicles that their taxi could not approach within
several blocks of the hospital. Handley paid the driver.
“We shall need you all the afternoon,” he said. “Stay right here and
wait for us. We shall probably have to drive about considerably.”
The driver agreed to wait for them, and Jimmy and his companion raced
toward the hospital. Handley had his typewriter and Jimmy his camera.
Newsies were crying the latest extras of the local papers. The New
Yorkers bought copies of every paper offered for sale and hastily
scanned them, marking names and addresses. Then they pushed on.
Though it was now more than four hours since the explosion occurred,
there was still great excitement and activity about the hospital.
Policemen and firemen were still stationed about the place. The dead and
injured had been removed and the fire extinguished. But the building
still smoked, and the air was heavy with that peculiarly offensive odor
that comes from a burned building, combined with the noxious fumes from
the burned X-ray films and chemicals that still persisted in the
neighborhood.
Coming to the scene so late, Jimmy and his comrade were at a great
disadvantage. The dead and injured had been removed, the former to the
county morgue, the latter to various hospitals within the city. Those
people who had been present when the fire started were mostly gone.
Policemen, firemen, doctors, and officials, nervously unstrung by the
day’s tragedies and taxed by conflict with the surging crowds and by
repeated interviews with newspaper men, were blunt, brusque, and often
rude. Crowds thronged about the place and it was difficult to move.
“We want to get hold of some of the people who saw the thing from the
start and get statements from them,” said Handley. “Then we want to
interview just as many doctors, nurses, patients, firemen, policemen,
and others who were witnesses of the tragedy as we can get in touch
with. We ought to have pictures of the interior of the wrecked building
and the outside. And we should have some showing the work of rescue in
progress. Maybe we can buy these latter pictures. You try for some
photographs and I’ll get interviews. When you get your pictures, hunt me
up. I’ll be somewhere about the place.”
Jimmy thrust his police pass into his hatband and hurried toward the
wrecked building. A policeman was guarding the entrance. Jimmy did not
know whether the policeman would permit him to enter or not. A thought
came to him. He stepped up to the bluecoat. “I’m told that you rescued
more people than almost any other man on the force. I want your picture
for tomorrow’s paper. Just step inside the reception room where I can
get you without this crowd and let me snap a picture, won’t you please?”
And Jimmy darted right on into the hospital.
The policeman, with a self-conscious look on his face followed. Jimmy
didn’t give him time to say a word. “Stand right over there, where the
light’s good,” he said. And when the policeman hesitated, Jimmy took him
by the arm and shoved him against the wall. Then he backed off and
snapped a picture of him.
“That’s fine,” said Jimmy, talking as fast as he could to prevent the
policeman from saying anything, “but it doesn’t show what it should.
This reception room is hardly damaged at all. I want you with a
background that will show the danger you had to face. Some of the rooms
upstairs are pretty well torn to pieces, aren’t they? I want a picture
of you with that background. Come on.” And Jimmy scurried up a stairway.
The policeman followed. By this time he had found his tongue. He seemed
pleased with Jimmy’s interest. “The worst looking room is over here,” he
said, and he led the way through a corridor filled with debris. The
plaster had been blown from the ceiling, the walls were torn and broken,
the window-glass was blown out, furniture was smashed and splintered,
and the entire room was in a state of the utmost confusion.
“Stand right there,” said Jimmy, posing his victim before a shattered
and bulging section of wall. Then he snapped his picture before the
policeman could protest.
“I believe I can get some better pictures up here than any I have,” said
Jimmy, and he took several pictures that perfectly portrayed the havoc
wrought by the explosion.
“I must get back to my post,” said the policeman, suddenly remembering
that he was supposed to be guarding the front door.
Jimmy’s heart fell. He thought he was about to be ordered out of the
building. But he was equal to the occasion.
“You won’t be leaving the place for a while, will you?” he asked. “I
want to talk to you. I’ll look you up at the front door just as soon as
I get another picture or two.”
The policeman hesitated. He glanced at Jimmy’s police pass, and though
he had been ordered to keep everybody out of the building except
policemen, firemen, and hospital employees, he allowed Jimmy to remain,
while he himself returned to guard the front door. Doubtless he thought
that the damage was already done, and that it would do no harm if Jimmy
did get another picture or two. As for Jimmy, the moment the policeman’s
back was turned he scurried higher up in the wrecked building and took
picture after picture.
His remark about the policeman’s bravery had been a shot in the dark.
Jimmy hadn’t any idea whether the man had been present during the
disaster or not. But he knew the weakness most folks have for wishing to
appear like heroes, and he knew that policemen are no exception to the
rule. As luck would have it, this policeman had actually had a share in
the work of rescue. Jimmy found that out when he hurried back to the
front door after getting all the pictures he wanted.
“Please spell your name for me,” he said, as the policeman turned to
greet him. “I want to be sure I get it right.”
“L-a-f-f-e-r-t-y—Dennis Lafferty,” the policeman spelled out, a letter
at a time.
“That’s fine,” said Jimmy. “I just hate to get a man’s name wrong. And
I’d hate mighty bad to get yours wrong after all the fine work you did.”
Jimmy could see the man swelling with pride.
“I only did my duty,” he said.
“Tell me about it,” urged Jimmy. “Maybe the fellow who told me about it
didn’t have the story straight.”
“Well,” said Lafferty, “I was on duty directing traffic two blocks down
the street when the explosion occurred. I heard it and ran up here. A
woman was struggling to get out of the door right where we are, and I
rushed up to help her. Just then I got a whiff of the gas. I knew right
away what it was, for you see I was in the World War. So I jammed my
handkerchief over my nose, grabbed the woman by the arm, and helped her
out of the building. When I turned to go back I saw clouds of yellow gas
swirling out through the door. I knew it was worse than useless to go
back into the building, so I ran around to the side of the structure to
see if there was some other way to get people out.
“By that time the firemen had begun to arrive, and they were driven back
by the gas just as I had been. Battalion Chief Michael Graham was the
first chief on the grounds. When he saw it was useless to try to enter
the first floor, he ordered a motor extension ladder run up to the roof.
Then he and some of his men went up it. I scrambled after them. Two
firemen hacked away a skylight and three or four of us was lowered into
the building by ropes.”
Just then Handley went hurrying past the front door.
“Frank,” shouted Jimmy. “Come here a moment.”
Handley turned, saw Jimmy, and came up the steps to him.
“How are you making out?” he asked.
“Fine,” said Jimmy. “I want you to meet Policeman Dennis Lafferty. He
was one of the first policemen to arrive after the explosion. Mr.
Lafferty, this is Mr. Handley, my fellow reporter.”
Handley held out his hand to the policeman.
“Mr. Lafferty was just telling me about the way he and some firemen got
into the building by way of the roof. They saved a lot of people that
way. I’ve got some good snaps of Mr. Lafferty and I want to be sure to
get his story correct.” Then he turned to the policeman. “Won’t you tell
the story to Mr. Handley?” he asked. “I’ve got to get some more
pictures. Handley and I are working together on this story.”
“Sure,” said the policeman. “It’s all one to me.”
He began to talk to Handley and Jimmy hurried away to get some exterior
views. He was able to climb up on a building across the street and get a
picture of the crowd that jammed the street and the open lawn by the
side of the clinic building. Extension ladders were still raised to the
roof and to different windows, and by good luck a number of firemen were
coming down two of them. From other points of vantage Jimmy snapped the
building and the crowd several times. When he had taken all the
photographs he wanted, he hurried back to the front of the building.
Handley had just met one of the hospital doctors, who had returned to
the building to try to secure some important papers. The physician
courteously stopped to answer Handley’s questions. Jimmy seized the
opportunity to talk to Policeman Lafferty again.
“Did you see any other people who helped in the rescue?” he asked.
“Sure. I saw lots of them. There were dozens of folks who had a hand in
it.”
“Tell me about some of them, won’t you please? What was the most
striking thing you saw?”
“I hardly know,” said Lafferty. “But there was a big colored fellow who
saved a lot of people. You ought to know about him.”
“What did he do and what is his name?” asked Jimmy.
“His name is Chapin—Bob Chapin. He’s a tremendous big fellow. He works
in a garage near here. When he heard the explosion and found the
hospital was afire, he grabbed up a ladder and ran up here quick. He put
the ladder up to a window where a lot of people was trying to get out.
The ladder was too short. So Chapin picked it up, rested it on his
shoulders, and shoved the end up to the window. It just reached. Ten
people come down the ladder while he held it on his shoulders. Then he
ran inside and carried out about as many more. He saved almost two dozen
people.”
Just then Handley came hurrying back. “We’ve got to move along, Jimmy,”
he said. “We’ve played in luck here. I’ve got more stuff than I ever
dreamed I could get. Now we must hustle over to the hospitals and the
morgue and get names and see how the injured are doing.”
They said good-bye to Policeman Lafferty and thanked him for his help.
Then they raced down the street toward the place where their taxi driver
awaited. The man was there. They climbed into the car and were whirled
off at speed to the Mt. Sinai Hospital, where most of the victims had
been taken.
By this time the hospital authorities had secured some sort of order.
Lists of names were posted, which helped the reporters greatly. As the
emergency patients were placed everywhere, in corridors and hallways as
well as in the wards, Jimmy and his comrade managed to reach several of
them and get from them first-hand accounts of what happened in the
hospital immediately after the first explosion occurred. Also they were
able to talk briefly with one or two nurses.
From the Mt. Sinai Hospital they drove to the other hospitals and
finally to the morgue. They secured all the names available of both the
dead and injured.
“We’ve had wonderful luck,” said Handley. “I’ve got enough stuff to
write columns, and I don’t know how much more you have.”
“Let me tell you what I picked up,” said Jimmy. “Some of it may be
better than some of the stuff you have. Anyway it will be different.”
They hurried out to their taxi and got into it. “Here are my notes,”
said Jimmy. “Now let me tell you briefly what they mean.”
Hastily he ran over the incidents he had gathered. Handley followed the
notes as he listened. When Jimmy finished, Handley looked at his watch.
“Give me that typewriter quick,” he said. In another moment the keys
were flying under his fingers.
“Wait,” said Jimmy. “While you write I could be getting rescue
pictures.” Without a word, Handley grabbed his things and stepped from
the cab. “I’ll write right here on the hospital steps,” he said. “Hurry
back.”
Jimmy directed the taxi driver to take him to the nearest big newspaper.
They drove off at speed. Jimmy found the city editor, told him who he
was, and asked if he could buy a few rescue pictures for use in the
_Morning Press_ in New York. He showed his _Press_ credentials. The city
editor turned him over to the photograph staff and Jimmy got several
good prints that showed firemen carrying unconscious victims down
ladders at the wrecked hospital. He thanked the newspaper men for their
help, ran out to his taxi, and was rushed back to his comrade. Handley
was still pounding away on his typewriter, utterly oblivious to all that
went on about him. He hardly even looked up when Jimmy sat down beside
him and started to read the story Handley had written. Jimmy marveled as
he watched his colleague dash off the tale. He wondered if he would ever
be able to write like that. He was amazed at the gripping quality of the
story Handley had written. At last the latter tore the final sheet from
his typewriter. He had made carbon copies as he wrote. Jimmy had already
sorted out the two sets of sheets. He stuffed one copy of the story into
his own pocket and handed the other copy to Handley.
“We’ve certainly played in luck,” he said. “Let us hope I have as good
luck getting back to the office.”
Jimmy glanced up at the sky. So intent had he been upon his work that he
had forgotten about the weather. What he saw now brought a deep frown to
his face. “We’ll have to be stepping,” he said. “It’s already
six-thirty. I should have been off before this.”
“I’ll stay here and get more stuff,” said Handley. “Good luck to you.”
He turned to the driver of the taxi. “To the airport as fast as you can
make it,” he said. “This man has to be in New York by eleven o’clock.”
They dashed off at speed. At the airport Jimmy hurried to the office of
the weather forecaster. There he found Mr. Beverly Graham, who was in
charge of the entire eastern section of the Airways Weather Bureau, and
who had been the forecaster at Hadley Field in the days when Jimmy was
in the U. S. mail service.
“Well, where in the world did you come from, Jimmy?” asked Mr. Graham,
as he jumped to his feet and held out his hand. “I’m glad to see you.”
“Not half as much as I am to see you,” replied Jimmy, shaking Mr.
Graham’s hand heartily. “You know I’m flying for the New York _Press_,
and I’ve got the story of the hospital disaster in my pocket and a
camera full of pictures. I’ve got to reach New York as quick as I can
get there. What’s the weather like along the line?”
Mr. Graham frowned and looked at Jimmy intently. “I’m sorry you have to
fly to-night,” he said. “The weather couldn’t be worse. There’s the
densest kind of a fog from one end of Pennsylvania to the other.”
“I’m sorry, too,” said Jimmy, looking glum. “But it has to be done. The
_Press_ simply _must_ get these pictures.”
“I know how you feel about it, Jimmy. If you must go, perhaps you can
get up above the fog. Be sure to ride high and follow your radio beacon
exactly. That’ll guide you all right if you don’t have a forced landing.
Your greatest difficulty will probably be to get down safely. The fog
isn’t so bad along the coast yet, but we can’t tell what conditions will
be like when you reach there. The wind is pretty quiet. There’s a
twenty-mile wind at 5,000 feet. I can’t tell you what it is like above
that. We couldn’t see our balloons beyond that height, and even this
information is two hours old. Fog and clouds have shut out every thing
up high the past hour. Here’s a weather chart for you with the latest
news we have been able to collect. Fog is solid through Pennsylvania.”
Jimmy studied the chart for a moment. His face grew very serious. Then
he said, “Thanks ever so much. I must be off. Good-bye.” He held out his
hand and the forecaster shook it warmly.
“I don’t like it, Jimmy,” he said. “I hope you get through safely.
Remember to fly high and follow your radio beacon carefully. Don’t take
any chance of getting lost in the fog. We’ll do all we can to help you
make it.”