CHICAGO IL 21 FF'S KILLED LODD CHICAGO STOCKYARDS FIRE 12/22/1910

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Chicago Fire Department Line of Duty Deaths​

https://www.facebook.com/fireservicelineofdutydeaths/#


DECEMBER 22, 1910 - CHICAGO, IL 21 Firefighters Killed.

On December 22, 1910, The Chicago Union Stock Yards Fire resulted in the deaths of 21 firefighters, which until September 11, 2001 was the largest single instance of firefighter line of duty deaths in the United States.

It was 24 degrees outside at 4 a.m. on Dec. 22, 1910, the first full day of winter. In the unlit basement of a packing house in the Union Stock Yards, that coal-black cold was being replaced by the glow of sparking wires, and then the first flames of a fire fed by combustibles ranging from rags to raw meat.
Within little more than an hour, that fire would grow to engulf warehouse No. 7 of the Morris & Co. plant. Then, in a few horrendous seconds, it would turn the nearly windowless brick building at 44th and Loomis streets from just another meat-packing operation into a graveyard.

Until the collapse of the World Trade Center’s twin towers on Sept. 11, 2001, no single disaster in the history of the United States claimed the lives of more firefighters.

When the fire broke out, all of the firefighters in the stockyards rushed to the scene in their horse-drawn steam engines and trucks, and Fire Marshal James Horan woke up in the wee hours to drive the only motorized department vehicle, the Chicago Tribune recalled.

The 51-year-old fire chief arrived on the scene less than an hour after the first alarm, and only 18 minutes after the 4-11 alarm bell rang at his house and roused him from a short night’s sleep.

Firefighters encountered difficulty from the start, according to Bill Cattorini, a lieutenant with Chicago Fire Department Engine 49 and an expert on the history of the fire. “It was very difficult to fight a fire in there because there were no windows. It was eight stories high, and so they knew there was going to be a battle, but it just so happened that a wall came down unexpectedly, and buried them,” he said.

A nearby loading dock was the only place from where the fire could be attacked, and access was restricted by a rail line filled with box cars running down the center of Loomis Street.

At 5:08 a.m., 59 minutes after the first alarm, a six-story brick wall, buckled by the expanding superheated air in the building, crashed through a wooden canopy onto a loading dock, killing Horan and his colleagues. The tons of flaming debris buried them alive. Hours later, after firemen removed the debris brick by brick, Horan’s body was found. He was on his knees, arms folded, facing the center of the fire.

Those who survived were either blown sideways by the force of the collapse, which destroyed the box cars, or in some instances, were lucky enough to have enough distance to dash away. But most had nowhere to go, even after Horan warned them to “look out.” A century later to the day, two firefighters are dead and 16 are injured, after a wall and roof collapsed as they fought a fire at 1744 E. 75th St.

Initial Hazards & Delays

Two major hazards contributed to the fire’s strength and rate of spread: the animal fat and grease that coated the walls of the warehouse, and the hundreds of cured hogs inside, which were preserved with saltpeter, one of the main ingredients in gunpowder.

Upon arrival at the warehouse, Chicago-area firefighters found themselves completely helpless against the growing inferno, as all the nearby fire hydrants had been shut off to prevent freezing. By the time firefighters were able to activate the valves that fed the hydrants, it was too late. The warehouse was completely involved.

To make matters worse, the building was surrounded by various railway cars, brick walls and other warehouses, which prevented firefighters from accessing the warehouse’s upper floor windows. Had they been able to reach the windows, they could have opened them to release the air pressure that was building up inside the structure.

The Blast

At about 0500 HRS, the pressure inside the warehouse could no longer be contained. One firefighter on scene said he saw the walls bulge and immediately shouted a warning to others on scene. The building exploded, causing the entire structure to crumble. A 6' wall of the building collapsed onto the nearby loading dock, killing the 21 firefighters.

The blast also caused a second fire to start in a nearby seven-story warehouse, making the scene even more chaotic. But many firefighters paid little attention to the second fire. Instead, they made a desperate attempt to uncover the 21 men who had been buried in the rubble. They frantically dug with their hands, throwing bricks off the scorching-hot pile in a futile attempt to rescue those who had obviously perished. They had to be ordered to stop digging and continue with the firefight.

With what little command structure was left, several additional alarms were called, which resulted in more than 50 engine companies and hundreds of off-duty firefighters responding to the scene.

Upon hearing of the fire, relatives and friends of the deceased flocked to the scene. Both firefighters and civilians took part in uncovering the bodies, but water had to first be poured onto the pile to make it cool enough for the digging to resume. It took 24 hours for firefighters to knock down the fire and recover all 21 bodies.

According to reports, an ammonia pipe caused the explosion. The fire started by a faulty electrical socket, left behind 19 widows and 35 orphaned children just before Christmas Day. The fire chief's body was found 14-1/2 hours after the collapse. The last body recovered was that of Captain Doyle, of Engine 39. His son, Firefighter Nicholas Doyle, of Truck 11, was also killed in the collapse. The entire company of Truck 11 was killed in the collapse. The First Assistant Chief went on to become the fire chief and was the fire commissioner when the 1934 conflagration destroyed a good part of the sprawling stockyards. So that he could be home with his family on Christmas Day, Lieutenant Brandenberg, of Truck 11, traded his days off with another man. Lieutenant Fitzgerald, of Engine 23, was to be married Christmas Eve. Firefighter Schonsett, of Truck 11, died on his birthday and his third wedding anniversary was on Christmas Eve. Firefighter Weber, of Engine 59, had just moved his family into their new home a few days earlier. The chief of Battalion 11, who was the first chief at the scene of this fire, was killed in a collision on November 8, 1916, as he responded to another fire in the stockyards.

CHIEF FIRE MARSHALL JAMES J. HORAN, 51
2ND ASST. FIRE MARSHALL WILLIAM J. BURROUGHS, 47 HEADQUARTERS
CAPTAIN PATRICK E. COLLINS, 47 ENGINE CO. 59
CAPTAIN DENNIS DOYLE, 46 ENGINE CO. 39
CAPTAIN ALEXANDER LANNON, 40 ENGINE CO 50
LIEUTENANT WILLIAM G. STURM, 46 ENGINE CO. 64
LIEUTENANT HERMAN G. BRANDENBERG, 41 TRUCK CO. 11
LIEUTENANT JAMES J. FITZGERALD, 33 ENGINE CO. 23
LIEUTENANT EDWARD J. DANIS, 46 ENGINE CO. 61
TRUCKMAN NICHOLAS D. DOYLE, 25 TRUCK CO. 11
TRUCKMAN EDWARD D. SCHONSETT, 27 TRUCK CO. 11
TRUCKMAN ALBERT J. MORIARTY, 34 TRUCK CO. 11
TRUCKMAN MICHAEL F. McINERNEY, 32 TRUCK CO. 11
TRUCKMAN PETER J. POWERS, 34 TRUCK CO. 11
TRUCKMAN CHARLES N. MOORE, 29 TRUCK CO. 18
TRUCKMAN NICHOLAS CRANE, 34 TRUCK CO. 18
PIPEMAN THOMAS J. COSTELLO, 34 ENGINE CO. 29
PIPEMAN FRANK W. WALTERS, 46 ENGINE CO. 59
PIPEMAN GEORGE F. MURAWSKI, 37 ENGINE CO. 49
PIPEMAN GEORGE E. ENTHOF, 31 ENGINE CO. 23
DRIVER WILLIAM F. WEBER, 34 ENGINE CO. 59

 

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Memorial Monday – Chicago Union Stockyards Fire (IL)​

December 27, 2021

Incident Date: December 22, 1910
Department: Chicago Fire Department and the Morris & Company Fire Brigade (IL)
Number of Line-of-Duty Deaths: 23​

In the early morning hours of December 22, 1910, an electrical fire broke out in Warehouse 7 at the Nelson Morris & Company, a meat packing and stock company, on South Loomis Street in Chicago, Illinois. As the watchman sounded the alarm, the fire quickly spread out of control. The wooden building was soaked with animal fat and the cured meat that was stored there, was preserved with saltpeter, making the building highly flammable.

Chief Horan responded from home after hearing the second alarm struck.

The fire quickly spread to adjacent buildings. At the height of the incident, over fifty engine companies and seven hook and ladder companies responded. Water supply which was already a critical issue at the stockyards, was compounded when firefighters found the city’s fire hydrants were also shut off to prevent freezing. Attempts to reach the upper floors to ventilate were hampered, with the buildings close together and nearby rail lines, making it hard to get ladders in place.

The warehouse canopy collapsed with several firefighters operating both above and below it, burying dozens in the rubble and flames. Twenty-three firefighters were killed by the falling debris. Among them, Fire Marshal and Chief of the Brigade, James Horan, who had been urging the installation of high pressure water lines in “Packingtown” in the weeks and days prior to the fire.

Firefighters Who Died as a Result of the Collapse:​

Until September 11, 2001, it was the deadliest building collapse in American history, in terms of firefighter fatalities. Although the Texas City Disaster of 1947 killed more firefighters overall, it remains the worst incident in Chicago and Illinois history.​

Memorial Monday - Chicago Union Stock Yard Fire (IL)

Twenty-three Chicago and Morris & Company firefighters were killed in the Chicago Union Stockyards Fire on December 22, 1910.

www.firehero.org

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1910 Union Stock Yards Fire

chicagology.com

 

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Significant Illinois Fires: Union Stockyards Fire​

Newspaper Cover from the Chicago Daily Tribune.
In 1910, Chicago’s Union Stockyards and Transit Company was one of the world’s largest centers of industry. The 450-acre site contained thousands of wooden animal pens, barns, haylofts, slaughterhouses, packing plants, and warehouses owned and operated by more than 100 separate meatpacking businesses. The Union Stockyards, famously documented in Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle, established Chicago as the “Hog Butcher to the World,” but the site was also home to the worst fire service disaster in Illinois history.

At 4 AM on December 22, 1910, a night watchman reported a fire in the basement of a six-story cold storage building operated by the Nelson Morris Company. The refrigerated warehouse was a particularly dangerous fire hazard as the interior walls and floors were wooden and soaked in animal fat and grease. Furthermore, the warehouse contained hundreds of cured hogs that were preserved with saltpeter, one of the main ingredients in gunpowder. Although Chicago firefighters responded within minutes from the two stockyard firehouses and from elsewhere in the city, any hope of dousing the fire before it spread to the rest of the building was lost when the firefighters discovered that the nearby fire hydrants had been shut off to prevent freezing. The warehouse was engulfed in flames by the time firefighters located and activated the water valves that fed the fire hydrants.

Numerous physical obstacles further restricted the fire fighting efforts, as railway cars, brick walls, and other warehouses closely surrounded the cold storage building. These obstructions made it impossible to set up ladders and, as a result, the firefighters were unable to reach the warehouse’s upper floor windows to open the iron shutters and release the pressure that was building up inside. The heat from the fire caused the cold air inside the refrigerated warehouse to expand at a dangerous rate and, at about 5 AM, the pressure inside the building produced a massive explosion. Chief Fire Marshal James Horan had just arrived and was directing operations from the building’s loading dock when the explosion occurred. An entire six-story wall collapsed on the loading dock, killing Horan, 2nd Assistant Chief Fire Marshal William Burroughs, three captains, four lieutenants, and twelve other firefighters.

Fire fighting efforts were severely complicated by the explosion, not only because the command structure was decimated, but also because the blast had set a nearby seven-story lard house on fire. Moreover, department personnel were diverted to try to rescue the firefighters buried by the collapsed wall. First Assistant Chief Charles Seyferlich, now in command, called in several special alarms, bringing more than 50 engine companies and hundreds of offduty firefighters to the scene. Fire fighting operations lasted for more than 24 hours before the blaze was completely extinguished and the last bodies were recovered from the rubble. With 21 firefighters killed, the Union Stockyard Fire ranks behind the 9-11 Terrorist Attacks and the 1947 Texas City Disaster as the third largest loss of firefighters in a single event in U.S. history.

Summary written by Adam Groves.

LibGuides: Significant Illinois Fires: Union Stockyards Fire

This is a guide to resources online and at IFSI Library that discuss significant fires in Illinois.

guides.library.illinois.edu

 

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Horan finally reaches the top

James Horan was finally appointed fire marshal in 1906 by Mayor Edward Dunne and reappointed in 1907 by Mayor Busse but he was not to have the position long. Horan died on Dec. 22, 1910, along with twenty-eight firefighters in a fire at the stockyards. Until 9/11 the Chicago Stockyard fire ranked as one of history's worst in loss of fire fighters' lives.

The stockyard fire killed men from three companies, as well as fire chief Horan and his second assistant fire marshal, William J. Burroughs. Another two dozen were injured. Some suffocated and others, like Horan, were crushed beneath falling walls. The fire caused $750,000 in damage to the warehouses and stock of Morris & Co., a packing company.

Horan was not at the scene as a hands-on firefighter. He heard the second call come in and drove to the fire in his car, wearing street clothes. Mayor Busse came to the fire too but remained at a distance from the blaze.

At the time of the explosion, Horan and some of his men were sheltering beneath a canopy attached to the warehouse. Another group manned hoses from atop the canopy. One of the hose men felt the wall going and shouted out in time for the men atop the canopy to jump off and escape but the six-story exterior wall fell too quickly for those below to react. Tons of burning bricks and debris covered them in seconds. A few firemen tried to remove bricks but their supervisor called them back. The fire was too close and the pile of bricks much too high. When the fire was once out, it would take seventeen hours to remove the bodies. For Big Jim to go out at the scene of a fire probably had a certain fitness to his men.

Twelve hours before the fire, Horan had addressed the city council about the need for a high-pressure water supply in the stockyards. So risky was a fire in the stockyards that many insurance companies would not write policies for buildings located in the area or if they did, imposed a high premium on coverage.

In the six years before the fire, multiple studies recommended a high-pressure system for the stockyards, but the city council would not approve the funds. So low was the water pressure during the stockyards fire that some hoses had streams smaller than a half-inch in diameter, there was no water for locomotives leaving the stockyards and properties in the surrounding neighborhood were without water.

The Council had killed a proposed ordinance that would have let the stockyards build a water system for its use, accusing the stockyards of trying to procure cheaper water.

It is interesting to read newspaper accounts of the deaths of fire chiefs Swenie and James Horan. Both were held in affection by Chicago, admired and respected for their bravery and dedication to fire fighting. Swenie had lived a long life and died in his bed while Horan died at age 51 and in tragic circumstances. Horan stories reflected surprise and deep grief in every quarter. Additionally, it was obvious that James Horan had a charismatic appeal to Chicago that elevated him to celebrity status. Had he lived, his popularity could surely have carried him into politics.

I wonder if he knew.

Beloved Chicago fire chief James Horan

After a long climb to the top, Chicago fire chief Horan's time was cut short

www.iroquoistheater.com

 

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A Reminder of a Tragic Fire​

Posted under Collections by Robert Blythe

On the anniversary of a Chicago tragedy, CHM collections volunteer Robert Blythe uses one of our artifacts to tell the story of a highly respected fire chief who was killed in action.

A white leather fire helmet with a noticeable repair sits in the Museum’s collection as mute testimony to one of the greatest disasters to strike an American fire department. That helmet, sealed at the bottom in an early attempt to preserve its shape, and another in the collection belonged to James Horan, chief of the Chicago Fire Department from 1906 until his death on December 22, 1910.


Horan’s fire marshal helmet, which was sealed at the bottom after his death. CHM, ICHi-168840 (left) and ICHi-168838

Around 4:00 a.m. on that cold day, a night watchman noticed black smoke pouring out of the six-story Nelson Morris meat packing company’s Beef Plant No. 7 in the Stockyards District. Several fire companies rushed to the scene. The firefighters had to stretch their hoses quite a long distance to reach the nearest hydrants, and a line of freight cars next to the plant hampered their efforts. Chief Horan arrived at 5:05 a.m. to personally direct the response. Within minutes, the east wall of the plant suddenly collapsed, instantly killing the chief and twenty other firefighters; three Nelson Morris employees also died.




A row of railcars separated the firemen from the burning building, hindering firefighting efforts. Photograph by the Chicago Daily News, CHM, DN-0056315





Firefighters crowd below the spot where Horan’s body was found. Photograph by the Chicago Daily News, CHM, DN-0056350


James Horan was a twenty-nine year veteran of the fire department, having started as a water boy in 1881 and rising through the ranks to become chief. He was an energetic, well-liked, and well-connected chief. Chicago’s mayor at the time, Fred Busse, had been a friend since childhood, and Horan was a favorite of businessmen and insurance underwriters for his tireless efforts to prevent fires and improve the department’s ability to fight them. Following the stockyards fire, Chicago went into mourning as funeral after funeral marked the holiday season.

On December 26, a procession numbering in the thousands escorted a horse cart bearing the chief’s casket from his home near Ashland Avenue and 12th Street (now Roosevelt Road). Atop his casket his helmet was proudly displayed. The cortège made its way to Holy Name Cathedral, where Archbishop James Quigley celebrated a Requiem High Mass. Chief Horan was then buried at Calvary Cemetery in Evanston.




CFD chief Horan wears his helmet while at the scene of a fire, 1910. Photograph by the Chicago Daily News, CHM, DN-0008863


An interesting coda to the fire story involves the battle that firefighters’ widows and other dependents had to wage to receive the public donations made on their behalf. A committee of businessmen administering the relief fund decided that only the annual interest on the $211,000 that was collected would be made available. This was not enough for the widows to meet rent and mortgage payments, and they sued successfully to have the principal of the fund distributed among them.





A fire helmet worn by Horan earlier in his career as assistant fire marshal. CHM, ICHi-68834 (left) and ICHi-168833

Horan’s widow donated the chief’s helmet to the Museum in 1947. A helmet from earlier in his career came from another donor in the 1930s. Together they remind us of those who died battling that long-ago fire.

A Reminder of a Tragic Fire - Chicago History Museum

On the anniversary of a Chicago tragedy, CHM collections volunteer Robert Blythe uses one of our artifacts to tell the story of a highly respected fire chief who was killed in action. A white leather fire helmet with a noticeable repair sits in the Museum’s collection as mute testimony to one of...

www.chicagohistory.org

 

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