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The Day Taneytown Burned

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Richard D. L. Fulton

Readers of November 27, 1897, issue of The Baltimore Sun, were greeted by this: “A fire, which at one time threatened to sweep away the whole town of Taneytown, Carroll County, began this evening (November 26) about 7 o’clock (p.m.)…”

Those who resided in the Taneytown area at large were likely already aware of the blaze, as the reflection of the flames in the sky and the rising smoke were reportedly seen as far away as Emmitsburg, and Hanover, Pennsylvania, more than 15 miles away, according to The Democrat Advocate.

Although the cause of the costly fire was never ascertained, a number of newspapers, large and small, reported on much of the details of the event, which The Advocate summed up in their headline, “Taneytown Narrowly Escapes Destruction.”

Three factors aided in the spread of the flames:

    The majority of the businesses and homes in Taneytown at the time were wooden-framed structures, as was the case in most of the rural Mid-Atlantic towns and communities dating back to their founding. Trees were common then. Bricks were more expensive.

    The second issue was the lack of a water supply system and its associated pipeline infrastructure. Construction of a waterworks had been previously begun, but had not yet been completed, according to The Baltimore Sun.  The Democrat Advocate noted that, fortunately, there was plenty of water available (mainly in the form of local wells, but …

    The third factor contributing to the spread of the fire came into play – Taneytown did not have a “regularly organized” fire department at the time that could have delivered and utilized the water from the wells.  As a result, The Baltimore Sun reported, “every citizen responded to the call for help,” no doubt through the employment of bucket brigades, wherein people form a chain, passing buckets of water hand-to-hand from the source of the water to where it is needed, and then passing the empty buckets back to the wells.

While, as previously stated, the cause of the fire was never determined during, or in the wake of the inferno. Where it began was known almost immediately.

According to The Democrat Advocate, the fire started in a wooden “hay packing warehouse,” belonging to Tobias H. Eckenrode around 7:45 p.m. on the evening of November 26. The Baltimore Sun, which gave the time of the fire as having been 7:00 p.m., also stated that the warehouse was also storing hay, grain, and other items at the time of the fire.

Destructive fire was no stranger to Eckenrode property in Taneytown. In 1889, a blaze broke out in his coal and lumber sheds, fanned by high winds, according to The Baltimore Sun. That fire was also described as posing a threat to the town, as well as to the warehouse, which was ultimately leveled by the 1897 fire.

As far as the 1897 blaze, the Baltimore newspaper reported that “in a short while both warehouse and the adjoining buildings were in the flames.” So quickly was the fire gaining ground and potentially threatening the town, that help was sought to combat the fire from as far away as Littlestown, Pennsylvania (whose fire department reportedly arrived by 9:00 p.m.). The Baltimore Sun, however, reported that by the time the Littlestown hose company arrived, the fire was essentially already under control, although a “number of the buildings were still in flames.”

The Democrat Advocate reported that it was clear from the start that the Eckenrode warehouse was “doomed,” and, thus, the citizens endeavored to protect nearby property,” further noting the intensity of the heat had quickly spread the fire to a building housing the local newspaper.

The Democrat Advocate further reported that local authorities had also sought help from the Hanover firefighters but were told the Hanover firemen could not take their apparatus out of Hanover “without the permission of the burgess, and before he could be found, the last train had departed.”

Also arriving were multitudes of interested observers. “Great crowds of people from the vicinity and surrounding county were at the fire, as the blaze could be seen for (10-15) miles (in all directions).” The Advocate reported that “the flames were fierce, leaping high in the air.”

The next notable structure which had succumbed to the inferno was a wooden, three-story building, belonging to E. E. Reindollar, which contained the office and printing operations of The Carroll Record, according to The Sun.

All of the newspaper’s machinery, lead type, and other equipment were destroyed in the fire; arrangements were subsequently made by Editor P. H. Englar with The Frederick News to publish The Carroll Record in their offices, until The Record’s office in Taneytown could be restored, The Sun reported. The Record had only been in business for about four years.

From the building that had housed the newspaper, the fire had quickly spread to Stanley Heaver’s saddler shop, a dwelling owned by Eckenrode and was being rented by Josiah Snyder, and a double dwelling owned by John Davidson.

The fire was essentially declared under control before midnight, The Sun stated. Most of the fire-fighting effort was the result of citizen volunteers, who had extinguished the worst of it by hauling water from wells, before Littlestown firefighters could arrive at the scene.

Damage to the buildings that were affected by the flames amounted to some $20,000, by early estimates, but the value of the business and personal contents of each of the buildings that had burned remained undetermined at the time, according to several newspapers. Those included (according to The Sun):

The loss suffered by the burning of the Eckenrode warehouse, which included a dwelling, other structures, and the stored grain and hay, was given as being $8,500, of which only $5,600 was covered by insurance.

    The loss of the Carroll Record Printng Company(the newspaper) and the saddlery shop amounted to $5,000. The loss of the contents of the newspaper was listed as $2,000, of which only $1,000 was insured.

    F. S. Stakey’s cigar shop (located in a building owned by Stanley Reader) sustained an estimated $900 in cigar stock, of which $500 was insured.

    John Davidson’s dwelling, including contents, sustained a loss of $4,000, of which $3,400 was insured.

Other buildings in the town were also damaged by the fire, but their sustained damages were “very slight.”

That there were no noteworthy injuries or deaths associated with the fire-fighting effort was remarkable, given that it was largely brought under control by citizen volunteers.

But five miles out of Taneytown at Bruce Mill Junction, another devastating fire had destroyed Hammond’s Mill, located along Little Pipe Creek, on December 3, only a week after the Taneytown fire.

The outcome was not so fortunate. 

Miller George Biehl was last heard from when he was calling for help from within the burning building.

According to The Democrat Advocate, “After the fire, his bones were found in the ruins of the mill and taken to his residence… They were interred later.”

The Great Academy Fire of 1885

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Richard D. L. Fulton

“The home of the Sisters of Charity… came very near being destroyed by fire today.” – The Baltimore Sun, issue of March 21, 1885 (the story was actually filed the day before).

Much of Emmitsburg’s remarkable history lies among the piles of old, long-forgotten newspapers, one of these stories being the Saint Joseph’s Academy fire of 1885.

The incident commenced around noon on March 20, 1885, when someone in the town noticed the flames rising over one of the academy buildings – in particular. The Baltimore Sun reported on the following day, “The sisters were at dinner, when a telephone message came from Emmitsburg inquiring if they knew the roof of the building in which they were sitting was in a blaze.”

The dining area was located in a dormitory (also then referred to as the Gothic Building).The kitchen was contained in a separate structure but attached to the dormitory. In addition to the kitchen and the dining room-containing dormitory, the academy also had several other structures as part of their overall complex at the time, including another dormitory, an “out-building,” a “main building,” and the church. At the time, the buildings and ground were said to be worth more than $1 million.

The revelation that a fire might be in the making had actually already been detected, although the source remained at that point unknown. The Baltimore Sun reported that several sisters in a different part of the dormitory had stated they could smell smoke and had begun to spread the word of a possible fire.

One might have expected a case of ensuing panic setting in, but that was not the case, as a number of sisters had calmed the others, and orders were given by Mother Euphemia to look out for the welfare of the pupils over and above concerning themselves with the fire.

Within minutes, the sisters had made contact with the institution’s 75 students and told the girls what was then transpiring, and “told them to get their wraps together,” and then had them assemble in the “exhibition hall,” in preparation for an evacuation, if proved as being necessary.

According to The Baltimore Sun, “The sisters say the girls were not frightened and even relished in the excitement, though of course they were distressed at the damage that was being done to one of the buildings.”

There were, at the time of the fire, about 200 sisters on the property, and they began to help move furniture and other property into other academy buildings, in spite of the building being on fire from which the property was being relocated.

As the two buildings (kitchen and dormitory) burned, the Emmitsburg Hose Company responded with their single fire engine. The Baltimore Sun reported, “The only obstacle that confronted the advance of the fire was gallant effort on the part of the Emmitsburg Hose Company,” adding, “The men worked with all their might and would have subdued the fire, had not the wind been so varying… nearly the whole town of Emmitsburg turned out to assist their fire company.”

Although the fire seemed contained and appeared to be that it would not spread to any of the other buildings, a call for additional firefighting assistance to completely extinguish the flames was sent out, and within 15 minutes, James McSherry, commissioner of the Frederick and Pennsylvania Line Railroad, reacted, and had a special train set-up at the Frederick depot which consisted of a steam engine, a passenger car, gondola and boxcar, according to Frederick’s The Daily News, March 21 issue.

Its load consisted of the Junior Hook and Ladder truck, a steam-powered firefighting engine of the Frederick Independent Fire Company, and a reel of additional hoses of the United Fire Company.

 The Daily News reported on March 20, further stating in their March 21 edition, that the complement also included 60 firemen and 30 civilians, and that, “The scene at the depot at the starting of the train was a very lively one. Men boarded the moving train and crowded at every quarter, eager to accompany the firemen, and willing to lend their aid in subduing the flames.”

The train was dispatched from the depot at exactly 2:25 p.m., two and a half hours after the academy blaze had been discovered and made the 11-mile trek into Woodsboro within 12 minutes. At Bruceville, the train cars were turned over to a waiting Western Maryland Railroad engine.

By 2:00 p.m., The Daily News reported on March 20, “The roof and walls of the new (dormitory) building have fallen in, and the flames are extending to other parts of the structure.”

Around 2:30 p.m., The Daily News noted, as did The Baltimore Sun, that a wire was sent requesting that fire engines from Baltimore be dispatched. While the requested fire engines were never sent, the newspaper noted that the Baltimore papers “monopolized” all the telegraph lines covering the story, making it difficult for other papers to get their stories through. The Daily News commented in their March 23 issue, “The Baltimore folks spun out yards of type and blew gusts of sympathy over the Emmitsburg fire, but they left Emmitsburg and Frederick boys to put the fire out.”

In all fairness, it was noted that it would take a “fire train” four hours to get from Baltimore to Emmitsburg, which would have conceivably been too late to have been of any worthwhile assistance.

By 2:45 p.m., it was believed that the fire would not spread beyond the building that had already been largely consumed.

Upon reaching Rocky Ridge, the railroad cars were then coupled to an Emmitsburg Railroad engine and taken to Emmitsburg. The loaded train then arrived in Emmitsburg at 4:30 p.m., according to The Daily News.

The incoming firemen and equipment were immediately faced with a couple of challenges as they deployed. First, the water in the boiler of the Independent Fire Company apparatus had frozen during the trip and had to be thawed out.”

Then Isaac Annan, of the Emmitsburg Water Company, was found sitting astride one of the water company’s hydrants, refusing to allow the Independent Fire Company firemen to hook up to it.

The Daily News reported that “after a consultation” involving Annan, the Commissioner of the Frederick and Pennsylvania Line Railroad, James McSherry, L. Victor Baughman, then managing editor of the Frederick Citizen, and a director of Saint Joseph’s (who was not identified), Annan “reluctantly gave his permission” to use the hydrant. One can only imagine the ensuing conversation that resulted in Annan surrendering the hydrant.

The Baltimore Sun reported that, as day became night, “At night flames shot upward spasmodically against the dark background of the mountains, illuminating the locality so plainly that different buildings could be clearly seen at a distance,” adding that around 9 p.m., the fire was finally “fully under control.” although portions (hot spots) continued to burn.

By 1:00 a.m., The Daily News reported that the fire was completely extinguished, and that the Frederick firefighters were sent home, arriving in Frederick around 3:30 a.m.

As a result of the determined effort of the firefighters, the academy only lost its kitchen and the dormitory, although a stable had also caught fire which was quickly extinguished and saved.

The numbers of firemen involved in fighting the flames may never be precisely known, but the sisters ordered that 125 suppers be prepared at a local hotel for those present at the scene of the fire.

The monetary loss of the two buildings was estimated at between $50,000 and $60,000. The fire was determined to have originated in the kitchen.

LOOKING Back

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by James Rada, Jr.

1922 – The marines Conquer Thurmont

More than a quarter of the U.S. Marine Corps arrived in Thurmont on June 25, along with the equipment to outfit an even larger group. They had been on the march for six days. Their ultimate destination was Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, but first, they had to get through Thurmont.

They ran into a slight snag as they passed north along Church Street. The Western Maryland Railway passed over the road about three blocks north of the downtown square, and there wasn’t enough clearance for the trucks carrying the tanks to pass under the bridge. Heavy timbers had to be placed on the back of the trucks to allow the tanks to be unloaded. The trucks and tanks then passed under the bridge separately. On the other side, the tanks were loaded onto the trucks again.

By 2:30 p.m., the Marines marched into a clover field about a mile north of Thurmont and sat down. Camp Haines was erected on the Hooker Lewis Farm. The Baltimore Sun reported that thousands of visitors came out to the camp to watch the evening movies showing the Marines on their march and to listen to the Expeditionary Force Marine Band play. They also joined in singing the Marine Hymn at the end of the concert.

One of the visitors to the camp was Henry Fleagle, a Civil War Veteran who had fought in 26 major engagements with the Seventh Maryland Infantry and emerged unscathed. Fleagle saw that the Marines had to carry very little during their march and remarked, “It is hard to get used to the new ways of doing things. We had to carry everything with us when we marched.”

“But you didn’t have to hike around like this,” one Marine told him.

“Didn’t, eh? Once we did 30 miles a day, and at the end of it, we had to double time three miles to cut off a part of Lee’s army, Son, you don’t know what hiking is,” Fleagle replied.

He told them about fighting in the Battle of Laurel Hill in Virginia during the Civil War when all but four men in his company were killed.

“Once a bullet took my hat away and another time a spent bullet hit me on the shoulder, but it didn’t have force enough to go in. I hope you boys will be as lucky as that if there’s another war,” Fleagle told the gathered Marines.

He shook hands with many of the Marines and officers and told them that there were only nine Civil War Veterans in the county. Then he thought for a moment, and corrected himself, saying that there may have been only eight left.

By the end of the evening, five other Civil War Veterans had visited the camp: Jacob Freeze, “Dad” Elower, Will Miller, William Stull, and Henry Cover.

After eight hours of marching, some of the Marines willingly hiked back into Thurmont to eat a meal that wasn’t camp rations.

“Until late, they could be seen walking by the roadside, while many stood on running boards of touring cars whose occupants had honored the uniform and given the sea soldiers desirous of ‘seeing the town’ a lift to shorten the journey on foot,” The Washington Post reported.

While in Thurmont, some confusion needed to be sorted out between the Marines and the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania in order for the journey to continue past the Mason-Dixon Line. The Pennsylvania State Highway Department had been told that the Marines were using cleated trucks and tanks that would tear up the road surface. Highway Department officials traveled to Thurmont to inspect the vehicles and make sure that they complied with Pennsylvania law.

As night fell, lights flicked on across the fields, breaking up the darkness. Men made their way back to camp before “Taps” was played. Then they turned in, except for officers who worked on the next day’s plans and night couriers on motorcycles who carried messages north and south.

The next morning, June 26, the Marines made their final 15-mile march through Emmitsburg to Gettysburg, settling in at Camp Harding near the base of the Virginia Memorial on the Gettysburg battlefield. Once there, they would be able to rest somewhat before returning to Quantico.

The morning started off badly when three Marines were injured near Thurmont. The truck in which they were riding went off the road into a ditch on its way to Emmitsburg. The most severe injury sustained among the three men was a fractured shoulder blade.

As the Marines passed through Emmitsburg along Seton Avenue, local Civil War Veterans—Michael Hoke, Jame T. Hostleborn, John H. Mentzer, Thomas E. Frailey, all of whom had served with the First Maryland Cavalry—stood with flags. Mayor J. Henry Stokes, who had three sons who had served in WWI, also greeted the Marines.

At the state line just north of Emmitsburg, the two Maryland state troopers who had been traveling with the Marines to clear the roads in front of them since they had passed into Maryland from the District of Columbia, turned over their duties to seven Pennsylvania state troopers. The Pennsylvania State Police then escorted the East Coast Expeditionary Force on the last leg of their journey on Emmitsburg Road to Camp Harding

Marine Encampment