The Peshtigo Fire

Because of Hurricane Katrina, and the approaching hurricane, Rita, I decided that this story might be appropriate. I pray that even though I'm sure New Orleans needs tons of help, I pray that we aren't forgetting the other places who got hit bad by Hurricane Katrina. Now, on with the second story from Steve Silverman's book, Lindbergh's Artificial Heart

You've never heard of the Peshtigo Fire because a cow stole the spotlight! You know exactly which cow I am talking about. Mrs. O'Leary's cow. That darn cow that supposedly kicked over the lantern and burned Chicago to the ground. There is no real proof that the cow actually did it, but in our minds she will always be guilty of the crime. That October 8, 1871, fire destroyed some 17,500 buildings, and caused an estimated $200 million in property damage. Approximately 300 people were killed and tens of thousands were left homeless.
Yet, on that very day of the Chicago disaster, another fire erupted that killed many more people, and consumed 500 times more acreage. You have probably never heard of this fire, so you must be wondering where it occurred. Was it China, Africa, or Australia? No, it was right here in the United States, just 220 miles north of Chicago, in Peshtigo, Wisconsin. And, because of the attention placed by the history books on that clumsy cow, the worst fire in American history, at least in terms of loss of life, is basically forgotten today.
At the time, Peshtigo was a booming lumber town. Approximately 2,000 people lived in Peshtigo and more than 300 worked in it's woodenfares factory producing tubs, buckets, and the like.
The spring and summer of 1871 were particularly dry through-out the entire northern frontier. Rainfall was considerably below the norm, and a strong southwesterly wind produced increased evaporation. Swamps and wells dried up and the grass was like tinder. In other words, the weather was ripe for a great fire.
Small fires had been popping up in the region for many weeks. On the evening of October 8, things in Peshtigo took a very bad turn. A tornado of fire sprang up from nowhere. Its accompanying hurricane-force winds toppled chimneys and tore the roofs right of homes and businesses. Flames shot up above the tallest trees. Cinders and sparks flew in all directions. The inferno of hot air, filled with sand, ash, smoke, and dust, was not fit to breathe.
Panic ensued. Men, women, children, and animals, all fled for their lives. But there was no place to go. The flames were everywhere. Hundreds of people crowded into the Peshtigo River, but the air above it seemed to be on fire. Others attempted to cross the wooden bridge to the other side of the river, only to discover that the people on the other side had the same idea in mind. Some people sought shelter down the shafts of their dried-out wells.
Within one hour, the town of Peshtigo was gone, and so was a large portion of its population. Some of its citizens had been trampled to death. It was reported that a number of people just burst into flames from the heat while on their way to the river. Others on the bridge died when it caught fire and collapsed into the river below. Those that sought shelter in the water were forced to stay there for five to six hours. Even with all the heat of the fire, many died from exposure to the cold river water. Many others were crippled for life.
To this day, no one really knows what the final death toll was. Too many bodies were reduced to ashes, and entire families were wiped out. It has been estimated that some 1,200 to 1,500 people lost their lives to the inferno. Two-thirds were from Peshtigo itself, and the remainder from its surrounding areas. Only 383 of the bodies were ever positively identified. One mass grave in Peshtigo contains the bodies of an estimated 350 victims.
Over 1 million acres of land were burned before the flames died down. The material damage was estimated to be in the millions of dollars. It was later reported that 27 schoolhouses, 9 churches, 959 homes, 1,028 barns and stables, and numerous farm animals were obliterated along the fire's entire path. Railroad magnate William Ogden, owner of Peshtigo's woodenwares plant, lost over $3 million between the Peshtigo and Chicago fires. The frame of only one building, which had been under construction at the time, actually survived the fire. It was scorched, but the high moisture content of its green wood prevented it from igniting.
Since everything was burned to the ground, news of the fire and its great death toll was slow to reach the outside world. Even when it did, the Great Chicago Fire had already captured the attention of the rest of the U.S. population. Little relief came in, and the governor of Wisconsin was forced to issue a proclamation that basically begged for some of the aid to be diverted from Chicago to the victims of the Peshtigo disaster. Eventually, some assistance did come, but it was nothing compared to what Chicago received.
Today, little is remembered about the greatest tragedy of its kind in U.S. history. It is barely mentioned in literature and little real evidence of it actually exists. A local museum has some charred wood, a metal pie plate, and a few singed Bibles, but that's about it.
If only that cow had not stolen the spotlight...

To visit the Peshtigo Times' website, click here