Down the Rabbit Hole
Page 13
Railroad Travel
The nineteenth century is also marked by great changes in transportation, thanks to development of the railroad and the completion of the transcontinental railroad in 1869. Despite great advances in railway travel, it took a passenger between thirty and forty-some hours over approximately three days to travel from Scranton, Pennsylvania, to Chicago, Illinois, depending upon connections. The route that Pringle takes is based on a railway timetable from the period.
The train wreck that occurs in Pringle’s story is a product of my imagination, based loosely on an actual train disaster that occurred outside Angola, New York, on December 18, 1867, when a faulty axle caused two cars from the Lake Shore Express to derail and uncouple as the train approached a bridge. The rear car crashed down the icy embankment and burst into flames. The second-to-last car fell down the opposite embankment, splintering into pieces. Forty-nine passengers died. Most were burned to death. Just before the accident, thirty-nine-year-old Benjamin Franklin Betts felt a trembling motion and quickly moved to a forward car, an action that may have saved his life.
The Great Chicago Fire of 1871
In October 1871, Chicago was a tinderbox. The downtown had tall wooden buildings, large wooden cornices, long wooden signs, and mansard-style top stories of wood. Chicago had miles of wooden streets and sidewalks.
Middle- and upper-class neighborhoods had wooden-frame houses and wooden roofs covered with felt, tar, and shingles. In the poorer neighborhoods, homes were built close together with small yards. Pine fences separated the dwellings and penned in livestock. With winter approaching, residents piled wood and wood shavings. They heaped hay in sheds and barns to feed livestock. In other areas, kerosene was stored.
Chicago had fires before. The previous year, the city firemen battled 669 fires. But this October was different. The city was dried out from a long drought. The firemen were exhausted from battling nearly daily blazes, and equipment was badly damaged.
On Sunday, October 8, 1871, Mathias Shaefer stood sentry duty on the courthouse tower. As Shaefer looked through his spyglass, he noticed blue curls of smoke rising from the still-smoking coal banks along the Chicago River. The smoke was leftover from the previous night’s fire that had razed sixteen blocks on the West Side.
Then Shaefer spotted flames near Canalport Avenue and Halsted Street. He reported the fire to William Brown, the night operator, and told him to strike alarm box 342. Brown pulled the alarm. A few seconds later, the nearly 11,000-pound courthouse bell tolled, warning the city residents. Firemen headed for Halsted Street.
From the balcony, Shaefer continued to watch the fire. Suddenly, he realized he had made a mistake. The fire wasn’t near alarm box 342. It was near 319. Quickly, he told Brown to strike box 319.
Brown refused. It might confuse the fire companies, he said. And besides, the firemen would pass 319 on their way to 342. (Unknown to Shaefer, a storekeeper had already reported the fire, but the alarm failed to register at the courthouse.)
As Brown predicted, the Little Giant fire company had spotted the fire, and a steamer was headed to the scene, a cow barn at 137 De Koven Street. Within forty-five minutes, seven fire companies were fighting the blaze.
But the fire companies arrived too late and conditions were too great. In less than an hour, the fire consumed an entire block of shanties and was heading for the planing mills, furniture factories, and lumberyards near the river. At first, firefighters and onlookers believed the fire would burn itself out, once it reached the razed area or the river.
They were wrong. At 11:30, a flaming mass swirled over the river. It landed on a horse livery stable and struck the South Side Gas Works. Now the fire was headed in two directions, eating its way north and south.
The fire burned for thirty hours, leaving a swath of burned-out buildings four miles long and one mile wide. It seemed like a miracle when it rained Monday night and into Tuesday.
All in all, it’s estimated that at least $200 million worth of property was destroyed. (That’s over $3 billion today.) The fire consumed seventy-three miles of wooden streets and 17,450 buildings. It left 100,000 homeless and an estimated 300 people dead and another 200 missing. (Only 120 bodies were recovered.) We’ll never know the exact number.
One of the great ironies of the Chicago Fire is the fact that another, even greater fire occurred at the same time in the small lumber town of Peshtigo, Wisconsin, where lumbermen cut timber for buildings in Chicago. The fire tore through the streets so quickly that scores of people could not outrun it. The town’s population was about 2,000. Over 1,100 people were killed in the fire.
Godey’s Lady’s Book was a popular women’s monthly magazine published in Philadelphia during the mid-nineteenth century.
Protesting the dangerous and inhumane working conditions to which they were subjected, workers in the coal mines, or collieries, of northern Pennsylvania began to unionize and strike in the mid-1800s. Colliery owners, refusing to succumb to the demands of the workers, often brought in “scab” workers to take the place of the men on strike, thereby maintaining the terrible conditions. In this March 1871 illustration from Leslie’s Popular Monthly, a crowd of miners and their wives are taunting the scab workers. In early April, the strike turned so violent in Scranton, Pennsylvania, that the governor sent in the militia.
The Avondale Mine Disaster took place in Plymouth, Pennsylvania, on September 6, 1869. When the lining of the mine shaft caught on fire and collapsed, over 108 men and boys were trapped and suffocated, making this tragedy one of the worst mining disasters in Pennsylvania history.
The grim aftermath of the Avondale Mine Disaster.
By the middle of the nineteenth century, Chicago was the primary transportation hub of the continental United States. The city had rapidly expanded, and by 1870, many of the sidewalks, streets, and buildings had been raised for the implementation of the nation’s first underground sewage system. However, most of the construction was built entirely of wood. The summer of 1871 in Chicago was extremely dry, leaving the ground parched and the city vulnerable to fire.
The Cook County Courthouse was a remarkably beautiful landmark in Chicago before the Great Fire.
This map illustrates the spread of the Great Fire over three days, October 8–10, 1871. The fire killed an estimated 300 people and left another 100,000 homeless. At least $200 million worth of property was destroyed, the equivalent of over $3 billion today.
On Sunday evening, October 8, 1871, a raging fire erupted in a barn owned by Patrick and Catherine O’Leary at 137 De Koven Street. The next day, the Chicago Evening Journal reported a rumor as a fact: that the fire was caused “by a cow kicking over a lamp in a stable in which a woman was milking.” To this day, the actual origin of the fire is still unkown.
Not realizing how quickly the fire would spread, thousands of people turned out to watch the excitement.
Steam-powered fire engines, like the one depicted here, were used during the Great Fire of Chicago.
Two men stand in the ruins of what was once the northwest corner of Washington and LaSalle streets.
The fire destroyed nearly $200 million worth of property, leaving Chicago in ruins. An incomplete set of columns stands in place of what used to be the Fifth National Bank on the northeast corner of Clark and Washington streets.
Chicago’s first railroad depot, Union Depot, built in 1848, was destroyed by the Great Fire, leaving the station a wreck.
A modern map of the United States showing Scranton, Pennsylvania, and Chicago, Illinois.
The character of Gideon, Pringle Rose’s younger brother, was inspired by a family friend named Sal Angello, shown here.
“Beautiful Dreamer”
(serenade)
Words and Music by Stephen C. Foster 1865
Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me
Starlight and dewdrops are
waiting for thee
Sounds of the rude world
Heard in the day
Lull’d by the moonlight have all pass’d away
Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song
List while I will thee with soft melody
Gone are the cares of life’s busy throng
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
Pasty
Steak and potato pies known as pasties are believed to have originated in Cornwall, England, where they were a staple food of workingmen, especially the mine workers. Records show that children who worked in the mines often carried the individual meat pies as their snack or lunch.
When English and Welsh mine workers immigrated to America, they brought their love for pasties.
Miners relished pasty, not just because of how delicious it is, hot or cold, but also because it’s moist. In the dust-filled coal mines, mine workers needed something moist to eat for their midday meal, to help get the coal dust out of their mouths and throats.
I have always admired the way my mother could roll out three or four pie crusts with ease. (The pie-crust rolling gene skipped me.) My mother’s pasty is delicious. Here is her recipe:
Pie Crust for 9-Inch Pan:
2 cups flour
1 teaspoon salt
2/3 cup shortening
6 tablespoons water
Measure flour and salt into large bowl. Cut shortening into flour. Sprinkle in water, one tablespoon at a time until flour is moistened and dough comes together.
Divide dough in half. Sprinkle flour over board. With floured rolling pin, roll dough two inches larger than pie plate. (This is where my mother says, “Don’t be afraid of the dough.”) Fold pastry into quarters and ease into pie plate.
After pie is filled, repeat with remaining half of dough.
Steak-and-Potato Filling:
1 1/2 pounds sirloin steak, trimmed and cut into 1/2-inch cubes
3 medium potatoes, peeled and sliced thin
1 medium onion, finely chopped
2 tablespoons flour
3 tablespoons butter
salt and pepper to taste
Layer one third of the steak, potatoes, onions, flour, and butter into bottom crust. Repeat two times. Cover with top crust. Trim excess dough. (Save dough scraps for cinnamon and sugar pastry.)
Moisten top crust with cream or milk. Bake at 400 degrees for 50–60 minutes.
Cinnamon and Sugar Pastry
In our house, scraps of pie dough were rolled into cinnamon and sugar pastries. To make your own, simply roll out excess pie crust. Sprinkle cinnamon and sugar over the dough. Dot with butter. Roll into crescent shape. Place in separate pie plate and bake alongside pasty for about 15 minutes.
Most stories grow from tiny seeds.
The seeds for Pringle’s story were planted when I first read about Jabez in 1 Chronicles 4:10. In this short prayer, I recognized the seeds of a good story. I began to ask myself: What if a girl prayed as Jabez prayed, asking God to bless her, to increase her coastline (often interpreted as wealth or responsibility), to guide her, and to keep evil from her? What if she was given everything she asked for, but in an unexpected way?
Those questions helped to launch Pringle’s story. From there, I began to think about the other things a story needs, such as setting and characters. The character of Gideon was inspired by a family friend named Sal Angello, who was born with Down syndrome in 1947.
Although more was known about Down syndrome in 1947 than in 1871, some things remained unchanged. When Sal was about six years old, doctors convinced his mother to send him to Pennhurst State School and Hospital to live. In order for Sal to adjust to his new surroundings, school officials wouldn’t permit his family to talk, see, or contact him for one month. His mother couldn’t wait the month. After one visit, his mother withdrew him from the school. She was determined to keep Sal home at all costs.
In 1956, Parade magazine, a national Sunday newspaper supplement, featured Sal in an article called “The Puzzled World of the Retarded Child.” Although the journalist called Sal’s life “tragic,” his sister, Rose Marie Crotti, is quick to point out that the journalist’s article reflects a common attitude of the 1950s — a view based in fear and lack of understanding. This view is not accepted, nor fair nor accurate today. But Rose Marie credits the journalist with addressing the issue, since such disabilities were not often written about at that time.
Sal inspired his sister, Rose Marie, to advocate for children with special needs as a teacher, a principal, a school district superintendent, and as a consultant for the Pennsylvania Department of Education.
Sal died in 2010. He was sixty-two years old.
Susan Campbell Bartoletti is the award-winning author of many books for young readers, including the Newbery-Honor book Hitler Youth: Growing Up in Hitler’s Shadow; the Sibert Medal–winning Black Potatoes; The Boy Who Dared, which was an ALA Notable and an ALA Book of Distinction, as well as the winner of the Pennsylvania Carolyn Field Award; another title in the Dear America series, A Coal Miner’s Bride; and many more. Her work has received dozens of awards and honors, including the NCTE Orbis Pictus Award for Nonfiction, the SCBWI Golden Kite Award for Nonfiction, and the Jane Addams Children’s Book Award.
Susan worked as an eighth-grade English teacher; she now writes full time and lives with her family in Moscow, Pennsylvania. She teaches in the brief-residency MFA program at Spalding University in Louisville, Kentucky. You can visit her online at www.scbartoletti.com.
Some day-to-day events leading to the Great Chicago Fire are products of my imagination. Others have been reconstructed through research of contemporary newspapers, books, personal accounts, and maps, as well as books and articles published on the subject in recent years.
In addition to the standard works, I’m grateful to the following: Jim Murphy’s Newbery-Honor book The Great Fire (New York: Scholastic, 1995); Peter Cookson, Jr. and Caroline Hodges Persell’s Preparing for Power: America’s Elite Boarding Schools (New York: Basic Books, HarperCollins, 1985); Jeffrey Geller and Maxine Harris’s Women of the Asylum: Voices Behind the Walls, 1840–1945 (New York: Anchor Books, Doubleday, 1994); Phillip L. Safford and Elizabeth J. Safford’s A History of Childhood and Disability (New York: Teachers’ College, Columbia University, 1996), and John H. White, Jr.’s The American Railroad Passenger Call, Parts 1 and 2 (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1978).
I’m especially grateful to Lewis Carroll and his classic Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, first published in 1865. Lewis Carroll is the pseudonym of Charles Lutwidge Dodgson. Fellow devotees of this work will spot the many references. For this work, I relied on a version electronically published by the Project Gutenberg.
I’m grateful to the many generous people who helped inform this story: Rose Marie Leitza Crotti; Sal Angello; historian Patrick McKnight and curator Sarah Smith (Steamtown National Historical Site, Scranton, Pennsylvania); my editor, Lisa Sandell, for her unflagging support and patience; friends Clara Gillow Clark, Joyce McDonald, and Elizabeth Partridge for reading parts of this story and sharing pages; Bambi Lobdell, just because; my mother, Joan Jenkin, for inspiring me to write about a nanny; my grandchildren for inspiring certain (*ahem*) character traits; and my husband, Joe, who helped me find the right ending on our many walks around the lake.
Grateful acknowledgment is made for permission to use the following:
Cover portrait by Tim O’Brien.
Cover background: Chicago’s Court-House Square on fire, North Wind Picture Archives.
Godey’s Lady’s Book, The Granger Collection.
Mine strikers, Library of Congress.
Avondale Mine Disaster, The Granger Collection.
Crowd waiting outside Avondale Mine, ibid.
View of Chicag
o before the Great Fire, Topfoto/The Image Works.
Chicago’s Cook County Court-house, Library of Congress.
Map showing reach of the Great Fire of Chicago, The Granger Collection.
Catherine O’Leary’s cow, ibid.
The Great Fire, Corbis.
Steam-powered fire engine, Keystone Archives/HIP/The Image Works.
Two men standing in ruins, Library of Congress.
Incomplete set of columns of Fifth National Bank, ibid.
Ruins at Union train depot, ibid.
Map by Jim McMahon.
Sal Angello, courtesy of his sister, Rose Marie Crotti.
While the events described and some of the characters in this book may be based on actual historical events and real people, Pringle Rose is a fictional character, created by the author,
and her diary and its epilogue are works of fiction.
Copyright © 2013 by Susan Campbell Bartoletti
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