The Great Baltimore Fire

By Jennifer L. Wright 

At 10:48 a.m. on Sunday, February 7, 1904, a fire was reported at the John Hurst and Company building on West German Street at Hopkins Place in downtown Baltimore. Supposedly, someone had tossed a smoldering cigarette into the basement. Although the city had a professional and well-trained fire department, by the time they arrived, the building was engulfed in flames, with winds from the harbor fanning the fire in the direction of neighboring buildings in the downtown district. 

It soon became apparent the blaze was too much for their woefully inadequate equipment. At the time, pumpers and tankers were still pulled by teams of horses. In addition, the cities themselves were tinderboxes. Buildings were constructed of wood and located in close proximity to each other, fire breaks weren't built into city planning, and building codes were either nonexistent or not enforced. Many streets and alleys were often crowded with cars, wagons, and discarded items, while others were simply too narrow for fire wagons to squeeze through under even the best conditions. 

Photo Credit: Box 414 Association

Soon, the fire that began at the John Hurst and Company building was out of control...and out of the capabilities of the Baltimore Fire Department. Pushed along by prevailing winds, the flames spread north through the retail shopping area as far as Fayette Street and began moving eastward. Firefighters sent out telegraphs to surrounding communities, asking them to send equipment and manpower. Nearby cities such as Philadelphia, Washington, D.C. , New York City, Wilmington, and Atlantic City responded, but it took hours before horse-drawn pumpers, wagons and other related equipment would arrive, as much of had to be carried via train. 

 

When help did arrive, however, an entirely different problem presented itself: at the time, firefighting practices and equipment were largely unstandardized, with each city having its own system. As such, the hoses and couplings brought by neighboring departments were useless; they didn't fit the fire hydrants in Baltimore. 

Photo Credit: Box 414 Association

 

The fire lasted into the following day; it took about 30 hours for it to be extinguished completely. When all was said and done, an 80-block area of downtown Baltimore was in ashes, leaving more than 1,500 buildings completely destroyed and an additional 1,000 heavily damaged. The estimated cost of the fire was $100 million (over $3 billion today) and, as the fire affected only commercial buildings, 35,000 people were left unemployed. Although, officially, no lives were lost directly from the fire, four firefighters ultimately succumbed to pneumonia, which they were thought to have contracted during their exposure to the blaze. 

Photo Credit: Box 414 Association

Surprising everyone, much of the destroyed area was rebuilt in relatively short order. More importantly, the city adopted a building code, stressing fireproof materials. But the greatest legacy of the Baltimore Fire was the push it gave to adopt standardized firefighting equipment in the United States. Compliance was difficult, however, and over one-hundred years after the blaze, there still are several major American metropolitan areas who have not adopted the national fire hydrant standard. 

 

But in Baltimore, the legacy of the blaze lives on. The "Box 414 Association,” which was named after the first alarm box pulled that fateful morning, was created in 1946 by several former firefighters to assist the Baltimore City Fire Department by sending trucks to the sites of major alarms and fires to provide exhausted firefighters snacks, drinks, and items of comfort. The organization still retains a strong presence within the community today. In addition, the BCFD memorializes the fire annually at the Department's old headquarters near City Hall. Observances are also held at the closest street corner to the Great Fire's beginnings at South Howard and West Lombard Streets alongside the old Civic Center. 

Jennifer L. Wright grew up wanting to be a reporter, but it only took a few short months of working in journalism for her to abandon those aspirations for fiction writing instead. She loves to reimagine and explore forgotten eras in history, showcasing God's light amidst humanity's darkest days. Her books have won multiple awards, including Golden Scroll and Angel awards. She currently lives in New Mexico with her husband, two kids, a couple of hyperactive dachshunds, and an ever-growing herd of guinea pigs.