Milwaukee Fire Department and the Adventures of Captain Jack Driscoll in Milwaukee’s Third Ward Fire of 1892
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| Captain John "Jack"Driscoll 1853-1913 |
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| "Tugboat Captain Crosses Last Bar" - John Driscoll's Obituary Front Page Milwaukee Sentinel 1913 |
Captain Jack Gravestone - Calvary Cemetery Milwaukee, WI
Milwaukee’s Third Ward Fire of October
28, 1892. (Around Six-o’clock in the morning)
It was a frigid blustery morning with
fifty mile an hour gale-like winds on October 28, 1892. Several fires had
broken out during the night but the Milwaukee Fire Department and Chief Clancy
had those under control before dawn. Most of Engine 10’s (firehouse located on
Broadway between Chicago St. and Menomonee St.) crew was back in
quarters before six o’clock in the morning getting ready for
their seven o’clock shift change. Some would stay for their assigned
seventy-two hour shift duration.
Captain Jack Driscoll, of
the Milwaukee Tug Boat Line, gimped off on his wooden leg to his
early morning journey from his home on Clybourn St. to Clinton
St. (now 1st St.) located
on Jones Island where the Life Saving Station was located.
Captain Jack severely injured his right leg when it was pinned between the dock
and the schooner while on the schooner H.M. Scove in 1876. This accident
occurred while working under the well known Captain Coyne. He had to have it
amputated. Thus, sailors nick-named him “Peg Leg.” Upon arrival, he would get
the boilers going in his tug, the W.H. Simpson. Captain Jack left his home
on Clybourn St. at a quarter to six in the morning.
As he turned from Clybourn to East
Water Street, he was mesmerized and horrorstruck by the pulsating glow coming
from the arched windows of the Union Oil and Paint Company. This
was a three story red-brick building on East Water St... The radiating
intense heat could be felt blocks away from the corner of Huron
St. & East Water St.
Ladder 1’s crew, the only crew left in
Station was a bit jittery, as the other crews had been out on three fire alarms
since midnight (Apparently, premonition from the fierce winds stirred their
developed senses).
The first alarm tapped out the first
alarm of Union Oil & Paint Co. at 5:43 in the morning.
Loud voices stretched, the firemen
hollered out “Hitch-----Hitch----Hitch!” Horses were hitched to Ladder
1. Within minutes Ladder 1 was on its way to 273 East Water
St.
With its piercing clanging bell Ladder
1 arrived at the scene from the Engine 10 Station on Broadway. There were
devastating explosions coming from Union Oil and Paint Company. The red glow
was now a conflagration. Ladder 1 had to hide from the rocketing barrels of
fuel and window glass shattering in front of them. The Ladder Company had no
means to extinguish the uncontrolled red beast of Milwaukee’s Third Ward.
As oxygen fueled the inflammable and combustible materials. Inside, tongues of
fire savagely burst through windows, extending itself to the next adjoining
building.
Momentarily dazed, Captain Jack brought his senses together. Beneath his breath, he said,
“Be Jesus, this firey hell will consume
everything with the fury of this northwest gale wind. I’ve got to get to Ma and
Pa’s and gets them to safety!”
This was only a half a block east of the origin of the Union Oil and Paint Company.
Captain Jack with his peg-leg dash made way for Buffalo St...He had a flashback to his earlier days when there were fist fights and even a lynching of criminals on this very spot on the corner of Buffalo and Water St... There was a recollection of a few brawls he got involved in. This earned the Thirds nickname, “The Bloody Third.” Now, he was involved in a much different type of rage!
Tim and Michael (Jr.) Driscoll and
brothers of Captain Jack were bonifaces of a bar, Meet the Driscoll Brothers
located on Jefferson St... Tim was cleaning up from a late
night bash that Captain Jack and his tug men had the night before when the news
of the “out of control fire” reached them. Captain Jack and his crew enjoyed a
pint or two that evening where he was doing his off balance- peg- leg- Irish-
jig. It would be their last pint shared at this notorious sailors bar
on Jefferson.
Quickly they ran across the street to
tell the family to gather their belongings and head for St.
Johns Cathedral for shelter. Important papers, pictures and limited
personal belongings were gathered for safe-keeping. Within minutes the Driscoll
family would be on their way to safety. The two brothers looked up and to the
southwest. Above the houses and businesses they could see the Third’s tragedy
unfolding.
Thick dense black smoke and the raging
red devil with its snaring red tongues of fire had taken over the early morning
skies. Countless families would be homeless before the next morning’s rise.
Incalculable explosions erupted. Panic
stricken neighbors gathered their treasured belongings. Loading their wagons or
wooden wheelbarrows, all headed north past Huron St. looking for
shelter at St. Johns Cathedral and nearby shelters.
A half mile away, docked
on Clinton St. was the M.F.D.’s fire boat, the Cataract. She
frantically reversed her engines. With her bellowing puffs of black smoke she
approached
Union Oil from the river side. There
was a haunting echoing sound of flames rustling in the fifty mile an hour wind!
It was “the red devil himself taking control. His catalyst was a fierce
prevailing northwest gale.”
The red devil latched its horror on the
adjoining building, Bloch Liquor Warehouse. Captain Jack’s prevailing thought
“More fuel for the raging drunkn red devil, himself!”
Within seconds, across the street, The
Dohmen’s Wholesale Drug was ablaze.
Finally, after fifteen delayed minutes,
Fire Chief Folly, a Hose Wagon and five Engine Companies arrived from an
earlier run. Several hose lines were laid out in desperation. Fireman’s only
hope was to protect exposures. A general alarm was sounded All other local
companies would respond.
Engine 3 was already positioned
on E. Water Street. There was a sense of somberness from Engine 3’s men as
one of their crew had been buried by a falling wall at a fire an hour earlier.
The Cataract, first fireboat for the
Milwaukee Fire Department, was now fixed on the riverside, using her powerful
deck guns in an attempt to harness the ramped red beast. Michael
(Jr.) was a pilot aboard the Cataract and would be instrumental in salvaging
the buildings on the west side of East Water Street.
Seven o’clock in the morning
Captain Jack, Tim, Michael, and Jerry
(also from the Milwaukee Tug Line) had made their way through the
dense black smoke and intense heat to rescue the elders Michael, Mary
and their two daughters Hannah and
Mary. All but Jack and Jerry still were living with Michael and Mary on Buffalo
St... George, a Deputy Sheriff, was frantically directing The Third’s families
to safety.
With “no time to spare” few personal
belongings were gathered. The rampant red beast was approaching the home they
had been brought up in. There would be little time perhaps, a suitcase or two of clothes and some heirlooms. There
was a thought for just one more trip into the house to get old family
portraits.
There was a deep and thunderous bellowing sound.
***********Pooooffffff*********** their wooden frame house was now in
flames.
A terrifying red glare was painted on
the Driscoll family. Everything was lost within an hour of when the fire began.
A vivid horrifying reality broke before them. “Everything Lost!” The only thing
salvageable a memory of when Michael first made his way from Ireland in June of
1843 and his family later arriving in 54.. This small frame house accommodated
a roof over their families head for nearly forty years. Where to go to from
here?
Their house in flames, there now was a
sense of urgency. Swiftly Michael and their daughters made a dash to St.
Johns Cathedral where the rest of the family had taken refuge.
The stage was now set on Buffalo St. (between Broadway and East Water St.) where a cistern was located. This was MFD’s line of defensive attack (protecting exposures). Clustered pumpers and crews worked frantically laying hose. The block was engulfed in heavy black sooty smoke. The firemen absorbed in their desperation, did not take note of the seven storied Bub & Kipp Furniture Factory totally involved. Much of the steamer’s exhaust and the rumble of labored engines covered the noise of the roaring blaze above their heads. Once again the heat was too intense. The crews scattered, leaving their five engines in the street. The red devil now consumed these five blistered engines left on Buffalo St. A city block was now ablaze.
By this stage of the fire, one third of Milwaukee’s equipment was lost to the raging fire.
Captain Jack and his brother Jerry left
the family with Tim and Michael (Jr.) on Detroit St. It was safe
there. The five block journey to St. John’s could be made without any real concern. Jack and Jerry would
make it along the east end by way of Broadway St. to the tug,
WH Simpson before the fire extended to the east and south boundaries.
Jack and Jerry’s concern was that
there would be a need for the Simpson. They would dock on the river’s south end
and load those trapped in the oncoming whirlwind fire ball that was approaching
from the northwest.
Hurriedly, Jack and Jerry made their way through the already singed residential wooden frame row houses and business structures along Broadway St.. The wooden structures ignited like matchboxes.
Their destination was to get to the
turnbuckle bridge off of Erie St. and Broadway where they could cross
to Jones Island.
Precious belongings of those in the Third had but one chance. The seven tugs; the Welcome, Knight Templar, Stark Brothers, J.B. Merrill, Dextor, W.K. Muir, E.D. Holton, J.J. Hagerman (tug Michael Sr. was on in the 1860’s) and the W. H. Simpson docked at Jones Island would be their only hope as the raging blaze succumbed everything in its path.
On the corner of Menomonee St. and Broadway (one block north of the turnbuckle bridge) was a well-known whore house, the Linden House. Lonely sailors were sent there from “Meet The Driscoll Bros.” for consoling their desperate needs of sea-warring stress.
On the Northwest corner of Erie St
and Broadway St. was Miss Tilly and her “wanton spinster
seamstresses” waved frantically. There was a desperation in her voice as Jack
and Jerry were about to cross the turnbuckle bridge.
“Captain Jack we’re in a desperate
need!”
Captain Jack with one twist on
his wooden stump turned towards the Linden House and saw Miss Tilly
and her “ladies of the night” perching themselves on the front porch of
the Linden House. “Look Jerry, over there!”
In an obnoxious voice, Jack said to Jerry, “I don’t think there will be any sailors consoled
tonight!”
Seven-thirty in the morning.
The east and south walls of the burning
Bub and Kipp Building collapsed with a thunderous voice. Rapid heartbeats
could almost be seen pulsating through their rubber turnout gear worn. Blistering tongues of fire now reached out from
collapsed walls and ignited a four story paint factory of the J.E. Patton
Company. Intense expanding fire overwhelmed the Milwaukee Art Glass and
the Kissinger Wholesale Liquor Building.
One little store on Water Street, Goll
and Frank was saved by the gallant efforts of Captain Harden and a volunteer
crew of local Irish youth who were under orders from Chief
Clancy. Their success was made possible
by the cascading of water discharged between the fire side and the store.
Chief Folly noted that all his
resources were exhausted. His Department could no longer foil the unrelenting
rage of the red beast. Exasperated, Folly had no choice but to telegraph
distant cities for
help. Chicago, Racine, Kenosha, Sheboygan,Oshkosh and Janesville fire
departments now summoned into service. Distant departments such as Chicago, Janesville and Oshkosh came
by rail. This presented a problem, with gluttonous appetite the fire already
had. There was fear the whirlwind of fire would reach the Chicago and
North Western Freight Yard located along Michigan’s lakefront from which the
Chicago Fire Department would enter.
The relentless prevailing northwest
howling fierce winds were pushing the fiery blaze eastward and south destroying
everything in its path. Captain Jack and his brother Jerry looked up and noted
the black reaping soot- like smoke and ragging sounds of destructive thunder
were turning the Third Ward into a shadow of night time despair.
Rubbing their red eyes and
coughing up the lingering black soot in their throats brought more intensity to
their desperation to get across the turnbuckle bridge. Momentarily, Jack
removed the handkerchief from around his mouth and with a whopping-like voice
said, “Miss Tilly, if you and the rest of your ladies wait here we’ll be back
to pick up your belongings. We are crossing the bridge to reach our tug! Take
only what you need!
There are drayman across the street.
They will help you with getting your belongings to the dock area just below the
turnbuckle bridge. We are in a bit of a hurry and need to get the Simpson on
its way! We’ll pick you up when we pass.”
There was a pause by Jack and Jerry
before departing and crossing Milwaukee’s turnbuckle bridge. Eyes
transfixed on the ladies seductive long black-laced transparent night garments
and long ill-kempt hair rigorously winnowing off of their shoulders brought one
flash of ecstasy to a bewildered moment. For the time, the fury of the Third
went unnoticed.
Their temptation passed.
Seven forty five in the morning.
Chief Folly gazed at the Third’s destructive
force. The raging “Red Devil” had now consumed one acre and crippled the
M.F.D.’s fighting force. Smoldering thoughts of tomorrow’s aftermath sent a
chilling reality. Thousands homeless and the funerals of those who perished.
The steeple church bells were ringing in his head.
The mountainous fiery rage had now
crossed Broadway St. Jacob Wellauer, a costermonger, owned a 4 story grocery
store on Broadway. His store ignited like a box of farmer’s matches. The fire
rapidly spread across the street to
WallpaperRoundy Peekham’s three story
wholesale liquor warehouse. Broadway was now totally engulfed in fire. Those
residing on Broadway had scattered and were making their way along Erie
St. to cross the turnbuckle bridge or staged themselves with their carried
belongings on the Milwaukee River along Erie St... Some left
earlier and were safe at St. Johns, and inns north of Clybourn St.
Chief Folly patched together his weary
department’s companies for a defensive stand, locating his Engine Companies
along Chicago St. on the south and Detroit St. on the
North.
Only two hours into the fire his
companies were exhausted. Painted black faces, painful red eyes, the hacking of
black soot particles of carbon monoxide and noses dribbling of same brought a
vivid reality of what Folly and his companies were encountering. Companies had
fought valiantly but were losing the battle.
Engines 5 & 7 frantically attempted to hold off the rolling fire at Detroit and East Water St. These companies had to surrender to the fiery rage. There was a thunderous explosion as ammonia tanks burst at the plant Weisel & Vilter (corner of Detroit & Broadway). Walls collapsed and debris was hurled in all directions.
Havoc and panic stricken companies were
caught off guard. Collapsed walls had buried four firemen. Two firemen died.
Folly was injured with a severe head wound. He refused medical treatment till
he found the Third’s conflagration under control. Tears for his 5 fellow
brothers perished in the crumbled walls, would be for another day.
The fire swallowed up a candy shop,
Ferneckes Bros. Candy Shop located on East Water and Chicago. Irish lads and
lassies frequented her for a taste of sweetness. A childhood memory dissolved
by destruction of a single moment’s terror.
Captain Jack and Jerry crossed the
turnbuckle bridge and hurried onto Clinton St. where the tugs and the
Life-Saving Station were located.
As they neared the Station, the
J.B.Merrill and its Captain Colin McNally had made way for the docks of Erie
St. Their destination was to pick up the homeless families and what they had
salvaged.
The Merrill now crossed Jack and
Jerry’s path. The tug’s bellowing puffs of black smoke and bell rung vigorously
alerting those families that they were making a stop. The fateful course of the families and what was
left of their belongings was in the hands of the first tug to dock on Erie
St...
McNally perched in his pilothouse
recognized Captain Jack and his brother Jerry running frantically for the Life
Saving Station. In a deliberate voice, McNally hollered out to Jack and Jerry,
“you fuckn’ better high tail it! The fuckn Red Devil is moving in on
the Erie Docks. She’s jumped Milwaukee St. and fuckn Erie
St. will be next!”
10 o’clock in the morning
The ragging fire continued its
consumption of the Bloody Third Ward, extending itself to Menomonee St.
Its dancing flames thrust its anger and jumped to the Milwaukee Gas Works and
Hanson’s Malt and Hop Shop located on southeast corner of Menomonee
St. and Jefferson St.
The upper windows of the elevator and
malt houses had been smoldering for some time. The intensity of the heat
reached its ignition temperature and suddenly, the flames burst through the
elevator the tall tower of the malt house. There was a flickering bright
emerald glow surrounded by a burst of thick black smoke. This was the gas from
the heated malt or perhaps, it had some mystic significance to the Bloody Third
Ward. Was this Emerald Light a sign of the end of the Irish
Third Ward? Or was this a flickering defiance of knowing today’s adversity will
only be tomorrow’s persiverance?
Hurriedly, Captain Jack and Jerry
prepared the Simpson. Their rendezvous, Miss Tilly
and her wanton mistresses left earlier below the turnbuckle bridge.
The rest of the Milwaukee Tug Companies
fleet was simultaneously readied. They would follow the Simpson on its rippled
path up the Milwaukee River in search of the
bewildered families grouped on the docks of Erie St and East Water
St. The roaring of the fleet’s engines and clanging of their bells could be
heard from the Erie docks.
As Captain Jack brought the Simpson in
view of the docks under the turnbuckle bridge. Jack was totally dumbfounded of
what he saw.
In a loud humorous voice Jack said, “Holy shit, holy shit Jerry would you be
lookn’ at that now, they brought the whole fuckn’ farm with them!”
There were at least a half a dozen
dogs, chickens, pot belly pigs, covered bird cages, cats and even a goat. There
were also large trunks everywhere scattered along the dockside.
“Be Jesus Jerry, the Simpson won’t be
the same. We’ll have to change our tug’s name to fuckin Noah’s Arc!”
Loading for Jack and Jerry took about
an hour. When Jack and Jerry picked up the last trunk and looked up to the
overflow of “belongings” Jack and Jerry could only shake their heads.
Once loaded Captain Jack had to squeeze
by Miss Tilly to get to his pilothouse. He paused and noted the heavy
overwhelming scent of her perfume. It would test ones gagging reflex. Hell even
her angora cat she was holding leaped from her arms and jumped back on the
docks.
Ahhhh…….The Scent of
the Linden House!
Simpson’s engines were once again
readied. Destination would be the docks of East Water St. and Grand
Av. Just below the viaduct.
The Simpson now passed the Cataract,
her guns still fixed on cascading her water between the buildings. Eyes fixed
on the enormity and destruction of the “Third Ward” as they passed. Nothing but
silence.
The silence and transfixed eyes were
startled by the squawking of one of the pet parrots.
“Fuckin Noah’s
Arc, fuckin Noah’s Arc, fuckin Noah’s Arc!”
Captain Jack and his motley mistress crew were about to dock off of Grand Av when he caught sight of McNally and his J.B. Merrill unloading.
McNally without hesitation took view of
the Simpson approaching and shouted, “Well if it isn’t Captain Noah and his
mistress crew. Do you have a red light in that pilothouse?”
“What do you have to say about that
stumpy?”
“And I’m not be talk’n about your peg leg
either now!”
10:15 in the morning
The blazing fury was sure to
cross Jackson Street. Chicago Northwest freight yards were exposed to imminent danger. In
grave danger, hundreds of wooden box cars standing helplessly on their tracks.
Along Jackson Street, Freight
House Number One, this building was three hundred and sixty feet long and sixty feet wide. A
distance that equaled the length between Buffalo and Chicago Streets.
South of it, Freight House Number Two
(four hundred seventy feet long and sixty three feet wide), this building
extended to Corconan Ave., the south limits of the Third.
The inferno burst into Freight House
Number Two. Within minutes the wooden building and box cars were totally
involved. Fireman from Engine Companies Nine, eleven and thirteen watched
helplessly, as it appeared there was no chance for suppression.
These Engine companies now took a new
position. In desperation they pulled their hose lines up to the large wooden
doors, attempting to save Freight House Number Two.. They found the two large
ten inch thick doors inaccessible. The doors had been locked by the watchman
before departing the scene.
In command, was Captain Kelly of Engine
Number Nine. He cursed, %#@*%, as his crew desperately tried to gain access.
First, attempting with axes, trying to drive through the ten inch thick wooden
doors.
Kelly glanced behind and noted the
forging inferno pressing its tongues of fire to their backside. Kelly ordered
the ten-foot battering ram to be tried next. With each cadenced thrust, the
heavy doors sprang back in their place. Kelly took another look to the crevice
on the sides of the door and noticed the doors heavily braced. Kelly thought to
himself,
“Penetration will be impossible!”
The intense inferno was within twenty
feet of their backside. Kelly turned to his companies, and in a vigorous voice
shouted, “it’s getting damn hot around here, lets get the hell out of here!”
No hope, both Freight Houses had to be abandoned.
It had taken about an hour to unload
the ladie’s belongings to the docks from the Simpson. Captain Jack
drew a well-deserved gulp from his pint flask of whiskey. As he raised his
flask for a second draw, he glanced at the top of the dock. Miss Tilly waving
him to get in her chippie wagon (the coach was sent meet them at the Grand Av.
dock immediately when Miss Tilly received the news of the approaching fire).
The view was enticing. She lifted her
dress totally up one perfectly formed leg as it rested on the chippie wagon’s
step below.
Captain Jack thought, “I’ve had a hard
day. I could use some consoling.”
Captain Jack in his masked debonair
voice said, “Is there anything else I can be helpin’ you with?”
Miss Tilly motioned with one finger,
pointing to her dark oak chippie wagon (which left the fire scene immediately
when Miss Tilly got news of the fire). The overwhelming and irresistible
temptation would not pass.
Captain Jack fastened the top of his
flask. In one suave move, tipped his black pot-belly hat to Miss Tilly,
indicating approval.
Approaching closer, Captain Jack
noticed the coach’s two black radiant horses exhaling breaths of cold air. The
elegant shiny dark oak exterior of the coach and its attached polished brass
gas lanterns were of beauty.
Carved in red on the chippie wagon’s
door on a sign was Miss Tilly’s advertising, Miss Tilly’s Seamstress
Co.-We’ll lower any man’s trousers.”
Captain Jack entered the coach; it
was garnished with purple velvet walls and black leather seats.
Captain Jack took a seat beside Miss
Tilly. He was awed by her seductive beauty! There was Miss Tilly, in the short
time it took Jack to reach the coach; Miss Tilly had completely disrobed.
Wrapped in a white-laced quilt, she was ravishingly beautiful. Barring only her
stunning beautiful red hair once bundled on top of her head, was now draped
along her bosom .Her alluring green eyes would tempt any man into sin.
A voice in Jack’s head called out, “I
need to sew up a few loose ends before I go back!”
In eagerness Jack swiftly departed from
his clothes and unstrapped his peg leg. Miss Tilly handed him a matching white
laced quilt...
Jacks shyly, made a request, “Miss
Tilly it would be warmer if we were both were under the same blanket.”
Miss Tilly opened her quilt. Exposed
were her perfectly shaped breasts and the inviting temptation of what was to
come.
Captain Jack dressed in only his black
stove-pipe hat eagerly moved into the comfort of her warming arms.
Just then there was a hard knock on the
outside of the chippie wagon’s door. It was a familiar female voice.
Startled, Jack whispered, “Ohhh Shhhit!”
A second knock .startled the two black
horses. Jack in a panic blurted out, “Bbbbbb be Jesus, it’s me Mary!”
Immediately, the coach door swung open and there was Captain Jack with only his stovepipe hat covering, well, “Little Jack.”
Mary was furious. Puffs of cold air
could be seen coming from her nostrils. In a loud demanding voice Mary
demanded, “what do you be callin’ this?”
Jack immediately held up his
sweat-drenched clothes to Mary.
“Well you see me Mary, we had just set
dock moments ago and as I was throwing the rope to dock, I fell in. All the
weight of me gear and clothes pulled me straight to the bottom. I would have drowned
except Miss Tilly jumped in after me and saved me life! She was gracious enough
to bring me in out of the cold into this carriage to get warm. We couldn’t very
well keep these soaked cloths on or we would have caught pneumonia.”
With one quick motion Mary grabbed
Jack’s clothes and took off for St Johns.
Mary turned and shouted back towards
the coach, “Now you better be leggin it to St. Johns or
back to work! There are hundreds left homeless fleeing from the fire!”
Jack with a sheepish look, asked Tilly,
“Says by chance do you have any tailored pants around here?”
Miss Tilly said, “Well, I do
have a corset hanging in the coach closet right over there. It’ll be a tight
fit but I think you can lace most of it up.”
Jack, not having much of a choice,
opened the small closet door on the other side of where he was sitting. He
pulled the corset to his body to size it up.
Jack tried to make light of the
situation, “Miss Tilly this will look like hell on me with me having only one
leg, but it’s going to have to do.”
Jack holding it up before himself gazed
at it from top to bottom. Just as he looked at the bottom of the corset he
noticed a couple of his cigars that dropped out when Mary had taken his
clothes.
“Miss Tilly, you wouldn’t happen to have a light?”
Miss Tilly grabbed the box of farmer’s
matches from a shelf behind her and struck the match for Jack’s cigar. Jack
took two long draws from his cigar and placed it on the shelf beside him. It
was easy for Jack to get the first half of the corset up. In one swift move he
got it up just over his waistline. With about ten grumbling twisting pulling
moves Jack managed to get it over his belly. Only the home stretch remained.
From this point Jack figured he would need a helpin hand.
“Miss Tilly, I hear you’re pretty good
with your hands, if I bend down could you be yankin on the top part of this
here thing?”
Jack bent over. Miss Tilly with a firm
grasp grabbed the bosom top of the corset as Jack sucked his belly in and bent
over. She struggled and pulled for several minutes. Finally, the corset was
positioned to be strung.
“Now Jack, turn around so I can fasten
the back for you and keep sucking your belly in or we’ll be here till
tomorrow morning!”
The corset could only be laced up three
notches.
It took another minute or so and Jack
was ready for his departure.
Jack placed his stovepipe hat back on
top of his head and secured his peg leg. Jack grabbed his cigar and quilt
opened the coach door and departed from the company of Miss Tilly. He went back
to the Simpson for a change of clothes and see if there was any more work at
the fire.
Captain Jack motioned by tipping his
stovepipe hat and taking a puff from his cigar, “Miss Tilly I’ll be back for
some mendin.”
Meanwhile, along the river Michael ,
Captain Jacks brother had been at the scene where the fire first started. From
Engine 15 (Erie St and Water) the Cataract fire boat was first on scene.
The crew of the Cataract was fighting the blaze from the Milwaukee River.
Bellows of smoke and flames of enormity could be scene from Erie and Water when
the alarm first came in. In vain the Cataract poured an enormous amount of
water on the Red Devil. But, from the beginning the stormy wind took its toll
along Water Street destroying everything in its path.
Michael and the rest of the Cataract
crew were exhausted after sever hours combating the Third Ward's conflagration.
Michael exclaimed " this is one hell of a day for those who live in the
Bloody Third and where in the hell will they be tomorrow" Damn...I need a
drink" With that he broke out his bottle of Irish Whiskey that was stored
in the pilot's nest in a secret cabinet. His face reddened by the extensive
heat thrown back at the firefighters and its crew.
By now little did Michael know that the
home (139 Buffalo) of his family was taken swiftly by the blazing inferno.
Before Michael would finish his day(s) on the Fireboat cataract he would gain
knowledge that the home on Buffalo St was almost immediately consumed in the
conflagration. The Driscoll family who were at home and saw the visual enormity
of its glowing strength, The Driscoll family on Buffalo ran for shelter to
St. Johns other residents followed the same course while others took refuge at
the Bath School House.
TO BE CONTINUED
