Sunday, October 7, 2018

The Great Chicago Fire Eyewitness Account


The Great Chicago Fire Eyewitness Account



Jonas Hutchinson was a lawyer and notary public with an office at 86 Washington Street, Chicago IL
He was an eyewitness to the historic Great Chicago Fire and has one of the best vivid descriptions of what it was really like. This letter may be the best actual account of that disaster, and even more amazing is it was written in the city while it was still ablaze! Although the fire started Sunday night October 8th 1871 about 9pm, the worst day was Monday October 9th when all of the downtown business district was suffering in flames before it finally stopped early Tuesday morning October 10th way north at Fullerton Avenue.

Somehow, Jonas managed to write this letter DURING THE FIRE Monday October 9th 1871, to his mother, Mrs. Betsey Hutchinson of Milford, New Hampshire. (He wrote this by his words "Tis midnight" on Monday October 9th 1871) so that means although his office was destroyed, he was one of the lucky ones who remained safe in his home. The fire still was burning by his own account, but it was about to end a few hours later before dawn of Tuesday October 10th 1871. Here is his letter without corrections:

Dear Mother, 

This has been an eventful day. Last night about 9 1/2 o'clock a fire broke out here and from that time to this it has raged fearfully. We are in ruins. All the business portion of the city has fallen prey to the fiery fiend. Our magnificent streets for acres and acres lined with elegant structures are a heap of sightless rubbish. It cannot be described. One needs to see the wreck to appreciate it and then he cannot believe that such havoc could be wrought in so short a time. Had you been with me all night and all day seeing this hell of fire doing its awful mission then you could realize how these ruins came. 

What a sight: a sea of fire, the heavens all ablaze, the air filled with burning embers, the wind blowing fiercely and tossing fire brands in all directions, thousands upon thousands of people rushing frantically about, burned out of shelter, without food, the rich of yesterday poor today, destruction everywhere, is it not awful? It makes me sick. One could but exclaim: "My God, when will it end?!"

The end is not yet. Terribly is the fire now burning, though tis' five miles from where I write so I am in no danger, though our family dare not go to bed. They are camped on the floor. Tis midnight and I am keeping watch. Everything is gone: all our public buildings and massive blocks, all the hotels except one, and that a minor one, the courthouse and records, post office and United States courthouse all gone. This is too true I wish it were otherwise.

The fire extended over acres of ground and it left nothing intact. Our banks are all included in this heartrending catastrophe. I had a few hundred dollars in the Merchants and this is lost. I am discouraged and what to do I know not. My office burned about three o'clock this morning. I barely got out a few papers and just escaped with my life. As I reached the street, the street was full of flames and smoke. I had to run for dear life. $5000 worth of books besides furniture  fed the flames as I went out, not to enter again. leaving all that valuable stuff to be devoured, I could but cry.

Mr. Roberts, whose library and building this was, and who is my dearest friend here, and with whom I am connected in business loses all and is tonight a sad poor man. I had many things in the office. they all went I saved nothing. Mrs. Thomas with whom I board loses nearly everything. Our house tonight is like the house of death.

The whole city is in grief. Insurance companies can pay nothing. Two blocks that I had in charge of as to renting and collecting rents for which I received 4500 yearly are among the things of the past. My office is gone. I am stripped and you may conclude that I am about vanquished. I cannot see any way to get along here. Thirty years of prosperity cannot restore us. It looks as though I must leave here and what to do I know not, possibly I may come home. All newspaper offices are destroyed. When we get papers I'll send them. I am going to try to sleep a little if possible now.

Thy boy, Jonas