Secrets of the Heart (5 page)

“Trouble is,” put in another fireman, “we rake one day, the wind blows a little, then there’s more to rake the next day.”

“Well,” said Murham, “one of these days the trees will be bare, and that’ll take care of the leaf problems.”

“For this year, at least.”

“Let’s hope we get back to normal with rainfall here pretty soon,” said Patrick O’Leary. “Then the leaves won’t be such a hazard.”

“What are you doing tomorrow, Pat?” Chief Murham asked. “Raking leaves, too?”

“Nope. Yard’s clean right now. I’m taking Katie and the kids for a wagon ride along the lakeshore. Ryan and Amy love to play at the water’s edge. We’ll make a picnic of it, too.”

The O’Learys were up early the next day in anticipation of their outing to the shore of Lake Michigan. Though it was the first week of October, the temperature was still moderately warm during the daytime.

Patrick and Ryan saw to the cows, which included giving water and salt to Dinah, while Katie prepared breakfast with Amy’s “help.”

When father and son came in with the milk, Patrick said, “Good news, girls. Dinah was already standing up when we went into the barn.”

“Oh, Patrick, that’s good!” Katie said. “Looks like your papa’s remedy is going to work.”

“Sure does. Breakfast ready?”

After they had eaten, father and son went back outside to do some more chores and to hitch up the horses to the wagon.

Mother and daughter did the dishes, then Katie started packing the picnic basket full of goodies.

“Mommy, is someone else going on the picnic with us?” Amy asked as she watched her mother fill the basket.

“No, honey. Why?”

“‘Cause you’re putting in so much food.”

Katie laughed. “I’ve learned there’s something about being out there by the lake, breathing that fresh air, that increases everyone’s appetite. I’m just making sure there’s enough.”

It was a golden day, and when the O’Learys found their favorite spot on the lakeshore, Patrick romped with the children along the water’s edge while Katie sat on a patchwork quilt and happily observed the fun.

They ate lunch while squawking seagulls flew overhead and some landed nearby.

“We gonna feed them, Mommy?” Amy asked.

“Not while we’re sitting here,” said Katie. “If we start that, we’ll be in trouble. Some of them will fly to their friends and announce
that we’ve put out a feast. They’d drive us crazy. We’ll leave some food on the sand when we go.”

“Look, Daddy!” Ryan shouted, pointing due east. “There’s a ship coming in!”

The O’Learys watched the graceful, billowing sails until the ship pulled into Chicago’s harbor.

As the afternoon sun started to make its downward trek in the sky, they loaded up the wagon and headed westward through the city toward home, tired but happy.

During the drive through Chicago, they saw two different fires being fought. One was a boardinghouse aflame in Company Three’s district. Company Five was dousing a burning barn.

They arrived in their neighborhood in time to stop at Fitzhugh’s Feed and Supply to buy more salt chips for Dinah.

By now, Dinah was drinking normally again. Patrick hurriedly gave her a dose of salt chips, kissed Katie and Amy and Ryan, and rushed off to make it to the fire station by four o’clock.

Professional fire watcher Cal Perkins greeted his replacement, Nate Canton, at the Courthouse Tower downtown.

“Hello yourself,” said Canton as he topped the spiral staircase to the tower. “Busy day, wasn’t it? At least I heard a lot of fire wagon bells clanging.”

“‘Twas pretty busy,” said Perkins, leaving the small table that held the telegraph key. “Total of six fires today. Far as I know, nothing that burned more than one building in a single place. It’s all yours. Keep a sharp eye, and tell Charlie when he comes in at midnight to stay awake. No napping.”

“As if I had to tell him that!” Canton said with a laugh.

“Go ahead, anyhow. I like to see Charlie steam up!”

Nate was still laughing as Cal descended the spiral stairs.

While work shifts were changing in station houses all over the city, and Nate Canton was sitting down at his telegraph table, Chief Fire Marshal Robert Williams was in a meeting with the Chicago Common Council. He stood at the end of a long table where the eighteen men sat, most of them frowning at him.

Williams had been reasoning with the council for over two hours, and now the councilmen were watching the clock, hardly listening, as he told them it was imperative they come up with money from somewhere. He needed more firemen and more equipment, especially in light of the city’s present fire danger.

The Chicago Fire Department, Williams pointed out, numbered only 264 men equipped with thirty-three horse-drawn fire wagons. This meager force was supposed to protect the entire city of over three hundred thousand people. Williams had asked for more men and equipment many times in the past. But the council had always insisted that his department was adequately supplied. Today’s meeting was no different.

Council chairman Edgar Phelps yawned and said, “Chief Williams, it’s getting late. Do you have anything else to say before we close the meeting?”

“Yes, I do. We’ve had exactly thirty fires break out in this city in the past seven days. So far, we’ve been able to subdue them before vast damage was done. But gentlemen, if this drought goes on, it’s only going to get worse. I asked you three months ago for a fireboat on the Chicago River because of all the warehouses down there. I pointed out that we have twenty-four wooden bridges. But still I can’t get you to listen to me. I have no fireboat. If those warehouses ever catch fire, they’ll go up in flames without us being able to put a drop of water on them.”

“What are you talking about, Williams?” gusted a councilman named Myers. “You have fire wagons. If a warehouse catches fire, bring in your wagons.”

Williams’s features turned crimson. “Can’t do it, Mr. Myers. This
council made that impossible when you leased the river street frontage to businesses, making the river inaccessible to fire wagons. Two years ago I begged you not to do it. Now it’s unalterable.”

“Well, I guess well just have to hope no fires get started in the warehouses that line the river,” Myers said. “There simply isn’t enough money in the city’s treasury to buy you a fireboat, Chief.”

Chief Williams threw up his hands, turned to the chairman, and said, “I’ve wasted my time here today, Mr. Phelps.” With that, he pivoted and left the room.

“He’s an alarmist,” Myers said, rising from his chair. “He’s got the whole city scared to death. I think we need to look into getting us a new chief fire marshal.”

It was almost ten o’clock that night when Nate Canton stood in the Courthouse Tower in downtown Chicago and looked eastward at the moonlight on the churning waters of Lake Michigan. A high wind had come up and was raising whitecaps on the lake’s surface.

He turned slowly, letting his gaze roam over the city, and suddenly he saw yellow flames on the west side. He studied the city map by the light of the lantern hanging above his head and pinpointed the blaze in the 27th District.

Immediately he began clicking off a message to Company Six: “Fire just beyond you to the northwest. Looks to be in the vicinity of the Illinois Planing Mill.”

At the Little Giant Company Six firehouse, the man assigned to sleep in Chief Bill Murham’s office came awake immediately and listened to the clacking key for a moment, then dispatched two of the three fire wagons. Chief Murham lived only a short distance from the station and was alerted by one of the men who stayed behind.

By the time Company Six reached the planing mill, it was consumed in flames and was beyond saving. Not only was the mill burning, but the high wind had spread it to a nearby lumberyard, which was going up in flames. Chief Murham arrived shortly after the
wagons and directed them to work at stopping the blaze from spreading further, considering the fierceness of the wind.

A messenger was sent to advise more companies to come help.

By the time a fatigued and discouraged Chief Williams arrived with three additional companies, the high wind was spreading the ravenous fire eastward over a four-block area.

Williams saw at once that his 185 firefighters on the scene could not contain the flames. He enlisted Chief Murham to help him press into service hundreds of men who had gathered to watch the blaze. They set up a bucket brigade from the banks of the Chicago River, but the wind-driven fire continued to gain ground.

The firefighters and citizens fought the stubborn blaze for seven hours before it was finally under control. Both the planing mill and the lumberyard were gone, along with many other businesses and homes in the four-block area. By 5:30 on Sunday morning, 61 firemen and 110 firefighting citizens had been taken to hospitals, suffering from burns or smoke inhalation. A few of the firemen hospitalized were from Company Six.

Chief Murham asked for volunteers to go home and get some rest and come back Sunday afternoon so the Company wouldn’t be short of manpower in case of another fire.

Patrick O’Leary was one of the volunteers. He would be back at noon and would stay on duty until Monday afternoon at the regular four o’clock shift change.

In addition to the firemen who had been hospitalized, two horse-drawn fire wagons—one from Company Eight, and one from Company Eleven—were sent to a repair shop. From those same companies, three horses had to be removed from active service because of burns.

Chief Williams estimated fire damage to be in excess of $750,000. He sent a written copy of the estimate by special messenger to Chicago Common Council chairman Edgar Phelps, with a note attached that stated the fire could have been extinguished much sooner if Williams had had the men and equipment for which he had asked.

Sunday morning dawned bright and clear. The high winds had cleared away the smoke from the city and diminished to a mild breeze. It was the beginning of a perfect autumn day.

Kathleen O’Malley awakened as the sunlight peeked through her bedroom window. When she remembered she was going to church with the Killanins, she sat bolt upright in bed and then stretched and enjoyed a big yawn. Leaving the warmth of her feather bed, she headed for the dresser and poured water into a wash basin from a flowered pitcher. When she had washed her face and dried it, she picked up her hairbrush and sat down in front of the mirror, yawning again.

She could hear sounds from other parts of the house, signifying that her parents were up and about.

Kathleen had washed her hair the night before, and it fairly crackled with vibrance as she brushed it. It was a little wild, but she pinned it into place as best she could.

She went to her closet and chose a cobalt blue dress with a large white lace collar and a shiny black satin bow at the neckline. She slipped her feet into her best black lace-up boots and squirmed for a moment. She hadn’t worn the boots except for special events and on the rare occasions when her family went to church. She was tempted to wear her everyday boots, since they were so comfortable. But they were a bit worn and scuffed and would not look good at church.