OLD VOLUNTEERS THE HAGUE STREET EXPLOSION
BY P.Y. EVERETT
A little over a quarter of a century ago, on a bright, wintry morning, the fourth of February, 1850, at twenty minutes after eight o`clock, the citizens of the Fourth Ward and vicinity were startled by a loud explosion which rent the air, and caused many buildings in Pearl and Frankfort streets to shake from their very foundations, and shattered many hundreds of panes of glass, the fragments of which were hurled in every direction on the pedestrians who were wending their way to their places of business. A few moments, and the sad news spread like wildfire that a fearful explosion had taken place at Nos. 5 and 7 Hague street, that both buildings had been blown into atoms, and that one hundred human beings were buried beneath the ruins.
The report proved too true, for it was soon discovered that the boiler in the extensive press room and machine shop of A. B. Taylor & Co. had exploded; that at the time over one hundred people employed by Taylor & Co. and St. John, Burr & Co., hatters, were at work on the premises. It was claimed by those who witnessed the terrible explosion that the buildng was lifted full six feet from its foundation, and then fell a mass of ruins. Instantly flames burst out in every direction, and here and there could have been seen legs and arms sticking out from the ruins, while the most piercing shrieks could be heard from those buried in their living tomb.
The Firemen were not long in reaching the scene of the disaster, with Chief Engineer Alfred Carson at their head, a general alarm having been sounded. Nobly did the members of the Department turn their untiring efforts toward rescuing those still alive. They soon controlled the flames, and then body after body was carried out, some of them mangled and bruised beyond recognition….
Wm. Story, of [Engine] No. 4, at the risk of his own life, rescued many, among them a little boy named Freddie Tieman. Story had to crawl down into a hole seven feet before he could get to where the little fellow lay. He was alive, and the first word he said was, “Mr. Fireman, that fire is close to my feet.” Story gave him his fire-cap and told him to put it over his face to keep the steam off, and he would put a stream on the fire. He did as he was told, and waited patiently for the hour of deliverance. While he lay thus wedged in between two heavy beams, he heard others beneath him giving way to the agony of despair. His words to those were: “What`s the use of giving up? The Firemen are hard at work; they will get us out, if anybody can.”
They finally sawed away a large timber, Zophar Mills superintending the whole affair, and the little hero was saved. Away down near the bottom lay another brave little fellow, whose name is still stamped upon the heart of many an old Fireman, one Samuel Tindale, aged 15 years, and near him one of his comrades, Thomas Vanderbilt, aged 19. Around them were burning timbers and hissing bricks. Tindale soon made known his whereabouts, and the Firemen worked like beavers to rescue him. His brother was soon by his side, and when the little fellow heard him, he said: ” Go tell mother I am still living; not to worry; that I hope soon to get out.” At the same time he told the Firemen he was up to his neck in water, and said, “You must stop that water, or I shall drown; there is a stick across my leg and I cannot move.”
The Firemen kept carting away basket after basket of rubbish, and finally worked their way down to an old side-door, where they made considerable headway, when young Tindale hallooed to them that he was scorching. Finally they got near enough to hand him a blanket. As he took it he said there was a dead man lying alongside of him. All day long he remained in the same position. It seemed a miracle how he ever survived, but his brother remained by him encouraging and furnishing him with stimulants. About nine o`clock at night it was found that a heavy iron bar held him fast. About eleven o`clock he said, “I shall be the third one who has been killed by this affair.” He had no idea how may had fallen victims in this deplorable disaster.
At one o`clock the iron bar was lifted, when it was discovered that another bar still held him a prisoner. As soon as the poor boy heard this he exclaimed: “Pull me out, whether you draw my legs off or not!” On worked the Firemen, never faltering for a moment, and at four o`clock in the morning, amid the shouts of all, the noble youth was lifted out and borned to Dr. Traphagen`s drug store… where he died shortly after. He had been twenty hours in the ruins. Sixty-three persons were killed, the greater portion of who were young men and boys, while about seventy were injured…. The Common Council, headed by Mayor Westervelt, did all they could to alleviate the sufferings of the wounded and aid the families of the dead. No fire ever ocurred in this city that was attended with a greater loss of life in those days. n
Editor`s note: With 1997 being the 120th anniversary of Fire Engineering (see page 86), we thought it might be appropriate to reprint a selection from our first full year in publication. One of the editors of the National Fireman`s Journal, as it was then called, was a long-time New York City volunteer prior to the changeover to a paid municipal department in 1865 and was particularly fond of chronicling the deeds of his fellows “back in the old days.” We reprint this (with only small portions deleted) in tribute to our volunteer firefighters present, made of the same mettle, no doubt, as your predecessors.
