World’s Columbian Exposition Cold Storage Building Fire on July 10, 1893, Chicago.

On the afternoon of Monday, July 10, 1893, four Chicago firemen, eight firemen hired by the Columbian Exposition, and three civilians lost their lives in a fiery inferno that was the cold storage building. It was the greatest loss of life in the Chicago Fire Department until the Chicago Stockyards fire of December 22, 1910.

The Cold Storage Building before the devastating fire of July 10, 1893.

As can best be determined the fire started in the cupola that surrounded and was flush with the top of the smokestack. The fire started small enough but there was a stiff breeze coming out of the northeast and gradually the flames circled around until the pillars of the cupola caught fire. By the time the top pillars were on fire, firemen had already reached the main roof of the building.

The first attempt to get a hose to the first platform was by the use of an extension ladder from the southeast corner of the building but was unsuccessful. Under orders of Acting Chief Murphy, men climbed the seventy feet up the tower from the outside by using cleats nailed to the side of the tower. The men took lengths of rope with them but no ladders. When they finished their ascent to the first platform they lowered their ropes and the process of pulling up hoses to the first platform had begun. While the firemen were valiantly attempting to put out the blaze, a crowd of about 30,000 fair goers was forming around the building. A cheer broke out from the crowd when the first spurts of water burst from the hoses onto the fire above.

It seemed to this awe-struck audience that the brave men of the Chicago Fire Department and Columbian Fire Department had the upper hand but their cheers very suddenly turned to gasps of horror. The whole while that the men were planning their attack on the fire, it seemed, in retrospect, that the fire was already planning its revenge in the form of an almost perfect death trap. In fact, it later became apparent that the firefighters’ fates were sealed before the opening of the fair when the cold storage building’s smokestack was just an ugly piece of bare metal that extended 191 feet in the air. It was said that Daniel Burnham, Chief of Construction, did not like the stark contrast of the bare metal with that beauty of the “White City” and ordered that it be made to blend in with the surrounding buildings. The facade of wood and white painted staff that was erected around the stack did indeed blend well with the surrounding great buildings but it also created a hollow gap between the façade and the pipe that extended below the main roof of the building. What the firefighters and the crowd didn’t see were the burning embers falling through this gap and slowly igniting the material 70 feet below the firefighters.

A small puff of smoke near their feet was the first indication of the brave souls above that something was terribly wrong. The firefighters on the roof could feel increased heat but it wasn’t coming only from above them anymore! As the firefighters on the roof sounded their warning, the crowd uttered a common cry of horror as flames erupted directly below the feet of the firefighters in the tower. It seemed to be only a split second between the initial burst of flame and when flames seemed to be pouring from between every pillar and even from the walls of the tower itself. The flames curled upwards surrounding the firefighters from both above and below them. Some in the crowd screamed, some women fainted and one man went to his knees and lifted his arms upwards towards the sky and appeared to be praying as well as concentrating on looking upward and at the same time trying to avoid watching what was unfolding in front of him. The crowd was so dense at this point that no one could simply walk away and was almost forced to witness what was quickly unfolding.

A silence fell over the crowd when a lone figure jumped from the 70-foot ledge and frantically reached for the hose that extended down to the roof. He managed to only grab it with one hand but managed to hold on. He slid down the hose into what seemed like a hopeless wall of fire that extended all the way down to the roof. He miraculously emerged from the flame with his clothes on fire but still holding the hose. He managed to make it to the roof and to the north side of the building where he was lowered to the ground. He was John Davis of the fire company stationed on the Midway Plaisance. A split second can mean the difference between life and death in any fire but almost a certainty in a fire of this magnitude. Unfortunately, firefighter Davis’s comrades hesitated and the hose that could have been a lifeline for a select few was consumed by the flames and burned in half. Spectators could see the figure of Captain James Fitzpatrick who was assigned to Engine Co. № 2 and also Assistant Chief of Battalion № 14 of the CFD. He seemed to be issuing an order to the men and one-by-one they started shimmying along the ledge of the tower to the north side which seemed to offer a few more precious seconds from the fire’s reach.

There was cheering as they all made the perilous journey to the north side of the tower. The celebration was short-lived as the flames quickly looked to finish their morbid task. The men huddled closer and closer attempting to avoid the heat of the oncoming flames. What happened next brought tears and cries from even the strongest men in the crowd. There was an eerie calm that seemed to come across the men on the tower and one man threw his arms around the neck of another in what could be a final embrace. That started a chain reaction of farewell words and hugs between the doomed men. A rope was thrown out and fell almost to the roof but even before anyone could grab it was burnt in two. The firefighters on the roof were frantically calling for ladders to be sent up from the ground but none came.

Without warning a figure took the 7-story jump to the roof below but the flame ravaged wooden roof was no match for the weight of the man and he fell through into a fiery inferno. Now it seemed the only choice was to jump or burn and a second person took the fiery plunge and turned over and over until not landing on his feet but his head and was killed instantly. Seeing the fate of the first of their comrades, the rest of the group hesitated briefly but the intensity of the flames spurred them in their decision making.

Fireman W.P. Mahoney saw a comrade of his named Bielenberg pass out due to the heat of the flames. He picked up his friend and jumped for the rope. He managed to grab it and slow both of their descent to the point that they both survived the initial impact on the roof but Mahoney had broken both legs. He still managed to drag his friend to the north side of the building where they were both lowered by ladder to the ground.

There now remained only two firefighters left on the tower, one was Captain Fitzpatrick. He was trying to convince his comrade to go first but to no avail. The Captain jumped to the only remaining rope which had only about 20 feet left and as he reached the burning end of the rope, he swung himself hard to the north avoiding the hottest of the flames. The last of those remaining attempted to duplicate the Captain’s technique but right at that moment the tower could no longer support its own weight and crashed into the burning inferno taking the last unfortunate soul with it.

Chief Murphy had been on the burning roof for as long as he could trying to do whatever he could but was driven back by the intense heat. He had just reached the ground when Captain Fitzpatrick had fallen and called for Captain Kennedy of Company № 5 and Hans Rehfeldt of the Hook and Ladder company and the three-shot up a ladder to the roof where Captain Fitzpatrick was lying. They raised him to his feet and tied a rope line securely under his arms and slowly lowered him to the ground.

William Barker, Captain of Hook and Ladder Company № 9, Chicago Fire Department, was born in Chicago on October 13, 1863, and joined the Fire Department on April 14, 1887. Captain Barker, of Truck № 9, who, with Lieutenant Miller of Truck № 16, effected the thrilling rescue of Captain James Fitzpatrick from the roof of the Cold Storage Building [at the World's Columbian Exposition] in 1893, led four of his men up an extension ladder leading to the sixth story. When they reached the top, flames burst from below, burning the rungs of the ladder and melting the rubber coats of the fire-fighters. The helmet of Barker, who seemed to be afire from head to foot, was lifted from his head and dashed to the earth. Shouting for water, and getting it, the intrepid skipper and his men turned the hose on the ladder first, and then entering the furnace, soon had the fire under control.

— Encyclopedia of Illinois, Cook County Edition, Vol.2, Published 1905.

By the end of the fire, 15 souls had been lost. The blaze claimed 12 firefighters and 3 civilians.

1. Captain James Fitzpatrick, Chicago Fire Department
2. Captain Burton E. Page, Chicago Fire Department
3. Captain James A. Garvey, Chicago Fire Department
4. Lt. Charles W. Purvis, Chicago Fire Department
5. William H. Denning, World's Fair Fire Department
6. Lt. John H. Freeman, World's Fair Fire Department
7. John C. McBride, World's Fair Fire Department
8. Louis J. Frank, World's Fair Fire Department
9. Paul W. Shroeder, World's Fair Fire Department
10. John A. Smith, World's Fair Fire Department
11. John Cahill, World's Fair Fire Department
12. Phillip J. Breen, World's Fair Fire Department
13. Ralph Drummond, Superintendent Harter Electric Company
14. Norman M. Hartman, Electric Lineman
15. Bernard Murphy, Boilermaker

The strange thing is that when all of the victims of the fire were traced to their respective gravesites, there was one extra body!

At Oakwoods Cemetery in Chicago there is a monument to those lost in the fire and underneath that monument, according to Oakwoods records, are 7 bodies when there should only be 6!

The Oakwoods Cemetery Memorial to those who lost their lives in the Cold Storage Fire.

Just who this unidentified 16th victim is anyone's guess. There was only one small mention of an unidentified victim in a newspaper at the time but no other mention. There were a couple of possibilities but none seemed to pan out. The mystery continues!

By Ray Johnson
Edited by Neil Gale, Ph.D.

---

Ray Johnson is a former criminal investigator in Du Page County, Illinois. He was born in Chicago and has spent his entire life in the Chicagoland area. He is a graduate of The University of Illinois at Chicago and has taught College Classes in Criminal Justice at the College of Du Page in Glen Ellyn as well as lecturing on Chicago folklore and history and teaching adult education classes on historical research techniques.

A Green Hornet streetcar causes an inferno with gasoline tanker truck in Chicago. (1950)

The collision occurred around 6:30pm on May 25, 1950. The accident happened at the intersection of 63rd Place and State Street. The Inferno killed 34 people and injured 50 others in the two vehicles and the surrounding area.

On May 25, 1950, Chicago experienced one of its worst traffic accidents when a streetcar collided with a gas tanker truck. Thirty-four people died. — Chicago Tribune historical photo

A scene from the May 25, 1950, Green Hornet streetcar crash. — Chicago Tribune historical photo

The Green Hornet Streetcar (named for its speed and color), trolley № 7078, was headed south on State Street, carrying 63 passengers. Suddenly the streetcar switched to the eastbound track to avoid a flooded underpass. "Apparently, the streetcar motorman was not paying attention and went through that switch at total velocity and hit the side of that truck with dire consequences," said Craig Cleve, author of the book The Green Hornet Streetcar Disaster. 

It is unclear whether the streetcar driver or the streetcar itself was at fault, but the Green Hornet did not slow down. As it approached the turn at approximately 30 mph, the streetcar derailed as it hit a Mack truck hauling 8,000 gallons of gasoline.

The gasoline tanker truck, carrying thousands of gallons of gasoline, jackknifed after the collision and blocked State Street 200 feet north of 63rd Street. The truck driver, Mel Wilson, died in the truck's cab, while the streetcar conductor, William C. Lidell, survived.

Two parked cars are hosed by firemen after the blaze at 6251 State Street. By most accounts, the streetcar was going too fast for the wet conditions. — Chicago Tribune historical photo

A battered watch carried by a streetcar crash victim showed the disaster's time. It stopped at 6:33 on May 26, 1950. — Chicago Tribune historical photo

Thirty-three people died immediately on the streetcar, and one died later of injuries from the crash. Thirty people survived even though the windows and doors wouldn't open. Fifty people, some on the streetcar and others in the surrounding area, were injured. According to the National Safety Council's report, two days after the crash, it was the largest death toll from a motor vehicle collision, surpassing the 29 people killed in a 1940 Texas train-truck collision. Some victims were identified immediately because of personal belongings, whereas others were identified at the Cook County Morgue by friends and relatives following the crash.

A priest gave last rites to the victims on May 25, 1950, when a Green Hornet streetcar collided with a fuel truck. It was a grim task to identify bodies as there wasn't much to go on: burned clothes, melted shoes, a ring, bits of toys, remnants of a letter from a young woman planning her wedding. — Dante Mascione, Chicago Tribune

This shell was what remained of the Green Hornet streetcar after searing flames from gasoline spilled from a tanker truck destroyed it and killed its human cargo. — Chicago Tribune historical photo

In addition to the lives lost, the flames consumed nearby buildings and parked cars. The fire destroyed seven buildings between the 6239 and 6247 addresses, leaving 120 people homeless. The total property damage was estimated at around $150,000 ($1,502,663.90 today). William C. Liddell, the streetcar conductor, disappeared after the crash but was arrested the day after, charged with leaving the accident scene.

On May 26, 1950, a general view of the scene north of 63rd and State Streets where a streetcar and gasoline truck collided the day before, killing 34 people. The streetcar was being switched into a "turnaround" because of the flooded conditions of an underpass beneath a viaduct from which this picture was taken. The arrows added show details of the accident and the buildings damaged in the explosion. — Chicago Tribune historical photo

A worker demonstrates how the switch for the streetcar usually is manually operated. — Chicago Tribune historical photo

Police officers and the coroner at the county morgue on May 25, 1950. The tragic accident left 34 persons dead. — Chicago Tribune historical photo

In 1955, the Chicago Transit Authority claimed it paid a total of $900,000 ($8,713,400 today) to families of the deceased. The accident was highly investigated, drawing conclusions about what could prevent another such catastrophe. Among them was the addition of drainage systems for frequently flooded underpasses so operators would not have to detour. These two yearly physical examinations of motormen and streetcar doors could remain open in case of an emergency to allow for evacuation. However, in 1958 the CTA elected to stop using streetcars entirely. They were replaced by bus routes that still run today.

Green Hornet Streetcar Inferno, Oil on Canvas by Eric Edward Esper. (2013)

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.

The Haber Corporation Fire in Chicago. (1953)

On April 17, 1953, the day after the fire, exhausted Chicago firefighters were still digging through the smoldering remains of the Haber Corporation factory at 908 W. North Avenue. They were looking for victims of the worst fire in the city since a streetcar and gasoline tanker met at 62nd and State Streets between a streetcar and gasoline tanker in 1950, which killed 32 people.

The Haber Corporation Fire killed 35 people and injured 32. North Avenue, looking east.

Sixty-two employees punched the time clock that morning, but construction was taking place inside the building, and estimates put at least 100 people inside the structure when the explosion and subsequent fire began. After that initial explosion on the first floor of the three-story factory, the fire spread so quickly that witnesses said the whole building was in flames within five minutes.

The first alarm was turned on April 16, 1953, at 8:47 AM. The firemen of the 3rd Battalion arrived in less than three minutes. 

The battalion chief, Frank Thielman, described what he saw upon arrival, ""A sheet of flame was shooting out each of the 14 second-floor windows. The sight was awful. It was fury. We couldn't get in to fight the fire. People were running wildly out of the building, saying more were inside. Others were jumping down from the third-floor windows onto the roof of the one-story building adjoining on the east.""

By 9:00 AM, a 5-11 alarm was sounded, bringing 59 pieces of fire equipment to the scene. Ambulances, police squadrons, and even police cars were pressed into service to carry victims to five different hospitals. Electricity was turned off in a 20-square block area surrounding the scene, and ventilating fans were placed on their highest setting in the subway because of the smoke.

A mechanic, Ted Mechnek, had just left his parked car on the way to work at a local business when the initial explosion occurred. ""Glass flew all over the street,"" he said. In just a second, it seemed fire burst out all of the second-floor windows. In another second, a woman jumped from a third-floor window to the roof of the one-and-a-half-story receiving department. Then a man jumped and turned to catch others as they jumped. Ten or 15 must have jumped that way, but the smoke was so dense that it was hard to tell the exact number. A man appeared at a third-story window, his clothing either burned or blown off.""

An inspector on the third-floor assembly line, Florence Haislip, said from her hospital bed at Augustana Hospital, ""We heard a tremendous explosion which shook the whole building. I ran with about 60 other women to the fire escape. Some of the women were screaming in panic. I saw I wasn't going to be able to reach the fire escape, so I climbed thru a window, hung by my hands, and dropped.""

Even as the recovery effort continued, Coroner Walter E. McCarron appointed a jury of a dozen men that held its first meeting on April 17. Within a week, it became apparent that the loss of 35 lives might have been prevented if regulations had been properly followed and appropriate precautions had been taken.

A building of this size, the Assistant City Fire Commissioner, Anthony J. Mullaney, testified, should have had three means of egress. There were only two – an unusable inner stairway after the explosion and a fire escape. City Building Commissioner Roy T. Christiansen testified that the Haber company had failed to obtain building permits for part of its remodeling work (some of which required the boarding up of an additional stairway) and that a company executive had admitted that company officials "" winked at"" employees who smoked illegally in Haber plants.

By April 29, the hearings began to move toward a conclusion. Arvid M. Tienson, the chief supervising engineer of the Illinois Department of Labor's' factory inspection division, told the jury that he and an assistant found two pieces of a duct from the building's ventilation system that had been blown away by the initial explosion. There was no evidence of fire in the two pieces, but each had ""aluminum dust fine enough to explode."" 

Mr. Tienson said, ""There had to be a power failure or blocking of the duct and something to trigger the explosion."" Witnesses had testified earlier that a flash fire occurred at one of the first-floor buffing machines.

Ultimately, the coroner's jury declared the horrific event that killed 35 people and sent 32 others to the hospital an accident. The Tribune reported, ""The jurors reported unanimous agreement that there was negligence on the part of owners of the property, the Hager corporation, and two companies – Ragnar Benson, Inc. and Wipf Welding company – which were engaged in extensive remodeling of the building at the time of the fire. But the jury was unable to agree as to the degree of negligence in each case."" 

The owners of the building, former 43rd Alderman Titus Haffa and members of his family, were not mentioned in the jury's findings. However, Coroner Walter E. McCarron said, ""If I were a jury member, I would have held the owners of the property and the companies to the grand jury for criminal negligence. However, this is your verdict, and I accept it.""

The Haber Corporation's location today. North Avenue, looking east.

Separately, in testimony before a committee set up by Alderman Cullerton of the 38th ward to investigate the tragedy, Assistant Fire Commissioner Anthony J. Mullaney said, ""If existing ordinances had been followed, no one would have died in the fire. The ordinances are adequate to have covered the situation. This wouldn't have happened if they had followed the code in obtaining the necessary permits for remodeling. There were no direct means out of the building from the upper floors.""

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.

The St. Anthony's Hospital Fire in Effingham, Illinois. (1949)

Like much of the United States, Effingham, Illinois, experienced rapid growth in the years after World War II. 

St. Anthony's Hospital as it appeared before the 1949 fire.

St. Anthony’s Hospital in Effingham had been the county’s only hospital since 1873, but in 1949 the region was quickly outgrowing the small facility. Operated by the Sisters of St. Francis, who lived in a convent next door, the hospital was sanitary and well-kept, but completely outdated. Constructed mainly out of wood and brick, the 100-bed hospital contained open corridors and staircases and many of the walls were covered with oilcloth fabrics and combustible soundproof tiles. The city was planning to build a larger, modern hospital in 1951, but tragedy struck on April 4, 1949.

St. Anthony's Hospital on fire on April 4, 1949.

Shortly before midnight, a massive fire broke out at St. Anthony’s Hospital, spreading rapidly through the building. As the hospital had no architectural components that controlled fire, the flames easily burned through the wood and plaster interior. Many of the 116 patients were immediately trapped on the upper floors, including disabled elderly residents, injured patients stuck in casts, splints, and traction devices, and a nursery full of newborn babies. A few brave doctors and nurses helped some escape, returning to the burning building multiple times to rescue patients, but the fire was too strong. Ultimately, 74 people were killed, including patients, nurses, nuns, a priest, and a hospital superintendent who ran into the flames to try to rescue his wife.

As the hospital had no fire alarm system, valuable time was lost before someone was able to set off the town’s fire siren. All but one of the 26-man Effingham Volunteer Fire Department arrived within ten minutes of hearing the siren, but by that time the fire had already burned through the hospital roof. Rescue efforts were further impeded as the small department had only three pumping engines. Until mutual aid departments arrived on scene hours after the blaze started, the firefighters had no ladder truck or other aerial apparatus to use to rescue victims from the otherwise inaccessible upper floors of the hospital. In the end, with the assistance of eleven mutual aid departments from as far away as 66 miles, firefighters were able to keep the fire from spreading elsewhere, but the hospital was virtually destroyed.

Although the cause of the fire remains unknown, investigators had little trouble pinpointing the safety deficiencies at St. Anthony’s Hospital. The combination of the combustible building materials in the open corridors, stairwells, and vertical shafts, along with the lack of fire sprinklers, detectors, and alarms had essentially doomed the hospital as soon as the fire began. In response, Governor Adlai Stevenson ordered the State Fire Marshal to evaluate all of Illinois’ hospitals to pinpoint and correct any fire hazards. Many other hospitals throughout the country also improved their fire safety measures in an effort to avoid similar disasters. In fact, as a direct result of the fire at St. Anthony’s, modern hospitals now incorporate numerous fire safety features to protect patients who cannot be quickly evacuated, including fire barriers, smoke compartments, and stairway enclosures.

Every person who died in the fire that night had a unique personal history. Here are a few of their stories:

Staff
Shirley Clements, a 22-year-old registered nurse, wasn’t supposed to be there that night. She and her husband, Hilary Clements, had a 9-month-old daughter, and Shirley was working an extra private-duty shift before a planned break from nursing to be at home with her baby. She assisted patients out of the building, jumping once from the first floor. She then re-entered the building to retrieve more patients, but this time her uniform caught fire and she escaped by jumping again, from an upper-floor window, suffering severe burns and broken bones. Shirley refused immediate treatment, stating that she knew she could not live and requested that others be treated instead. She was transported, accompanied by her husband, to a hospital at Granite City, Illinois, near her hometown of Belleville. Although listed as a survivor in early reports, Shirley succumbed to her injuries on Tuesday, April 5, 1949, the evening after the fire.

Fern Riley, a 22-year-old practical nurse who worked in the second-floor nursery, refused to leave and died with the 11 newborns there. Others were jumping to escape the flames, but she undoubtedly saw no way to get the fragile babies to safety. Her body was later found in the nursery with them. Fern grew up in the nearby town of Holliday, Illinois, one of a family of ten children. Her story was featured in a number of newspaper and magazine articles about the tragedy.

Frank Ries, the building engineer who lived next door, was off duty and at home that night, but his wife was working at the hospital. He entered the burning building, where he attempted to extinguish the flames involving a laundry chute that ran from the top floor of the building. His wife, Marie, on duty on the second floor, was able to escape by jumping from a window. Although severely injured in the fall, she was taken to a hospital in another town and survived. Frank, however, did not escape the fire. His body was later found in the basement level with emptied fire extinguishers nearby. Frank was born in 1900 in Recklinghausen, Germany. He was survived by his wife and four children, as well as two brothers living in Illinois and two brothers and a sister in Dusseldorf, Germany.

Sister Eustachia Gatki was found near a window with some of her third-floor patients, none of whom survived. Sister Eustachia was born at Boleslawiec, Silesia, in 1895.

Sister Bertina Hinricher was found on the second floor, huddled with a small group of patients who were unable to escape. She was a native of Holtwick, Germany, born in 1887.

Reverend Fr. Charles Sandon, age 52, was the hospital chaplain. He was born in Decatur, Illinois, and was ordained a priest in 1922. His body was found in his room on the second floor.

Patients
Doris Brummer, a 12-year-old girl, was hospitalized with a broken leg and was unable to escape the fire.

Edward Brummer, Jr., newborn son of Mr. and Mrs. Ed Brummer and the nephew of young Doris, died in the nursery.

Harold Gentry was spending the night at the hospital with his infant son, Harold Dennis Gentry. Harold's wife, Ina, had given birth six weeks before to the baby boy, who had been readmitted for treatment. Both father and son died in the fire.

Floyd Mascher, age 35, had been admitted to the hospital for surgery. Her husband, Floyd, was at home with their 2-year-old daughter. (Floyd Mascher and Ina Gentry later met and married. They went on to have a son together and raised him along with Floyd's daughter.)

Evan Kabalzyk, an elderly Russian immigrant, had been blinded years before in a coal mining accident and was said to be able to navigate the building with ease. He resided in the nursing home area on the third floor.

Eileen and Irene Sigrist, week-old twin daughters of Mr. and Mrs. Russell Sigrist, had been born at home and then taken to the hospital for nursing care. The babies were the third set of twins born to their parents. The Sigrists would later donate the first $100 toward the rebuilding fund.

Resulting Fire Safety Awareness
The Effingham fire prompted a review of fire safety and building standards at hospitals nationwide, with emphasis on:

• Construction of buildings
• Storage of equipment
• Evacuation planning
• Fire alarms, extinguishers, and training.

The official report of the state fire marshal found that the fire had been fed by flammable cellulose ceiling tiles, oilcloth wall coverings, fresh paint, freshly varnished wood floors, and open stairwells. In addition, oxygen and ether tanks exploded in a basement storage area, further feeding the blaze.

Although the initial cause of the fire was never officially determined, smoke was first noted to be emanating from a wooden laundry chute. It was speculated that a smoldering cigarette may have been gathered up with patient bedding and tossed down the chute, where it finally ignited the surrounding material.

Fire codes implemented as a result of the St. Anthony's fire included requirements for smoke and fire barriers as well as fire-resistant enclosed stairways

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.

The LaSalle Bank Fire in Chicago. (2004)

On Monday, December 6, 2004, an electrical fire broke out on the 29th floor of the LaSalle Bank Building in Chicago’s Downtown Loop at about 6:30 PM. Burning for more than five hours, the 5-11 and 3 Special Alarm fire reached temperatures in excess of 2,000° and spread to the 30th floor of the building, mainly due to the absence of sprinklers. More than 400 firefighters and one-third of the Chicago Fire Department’s apparatus were on-scene, and nearly 25 suburban communities responded with mutual aid support.

As the largest high-rise fire in Illinois history, the LaSalle Bank fire could have been a repeat of the tragedy at the Cook County Administration Building Fire one year earlier, but instead, the outcome was far more positive. In a stroke of good luck for firefighters, the design of the building contributed to smooth fire fighting operations. Firefighters took advantage of the tiered construction of the building by setting up on the roofs of some of the building’s lower tiers. These roofs, just a few floors below the flames, gave firefighters the perfect perch for spraying water into the windows of the burning 29th floor. The positive ending to the LaSalle Bank Fire was not just due to the fortunate design of the building, however, but was instead a direct result of the dramatic steps taken by the Chicago Fire Department to improve high-rise operations following the Cook County Administration Building Fire.

After arriving on-scene, the Chicago Fire Department began immediate evacuation and rescue operations, as Rapid Ascent Teams conducted floor-by-floor searches of the LaSalle Bank Building. Even though it was after normal operating hours, about 500 workers were still at work in the 45-story building. Remembering the lessons from one year earlier, the commanding officers designated one stairwell for use in evacuation operations, while another was reserved for firefighter use. In addition, rescue personnel was in close contact with 911 operators, who kept building occupants on the line so that rescuers could know the exact locations of trapped victims. Also contributing to smooth evacuations, stairwell doors in the building had been left unlocked and the fire alarm announcements gave clear instructions to the building occupants, who knew how to react because of frequent fire and evacuation drills recently mandated by the city.

The LaSalle Bank Fire proved to be as much of a turning point for high-rise fire and rescue operations. While more than 30 people, mostly firefighters, were sent to hospitals for minor injuries, there were no fatalities. Moreover, the Chicago Fire Department’s new High-Rise Incident Command Order, enacted only two months earlier, proved effective in directing firefighters and commanders during the blaze. Citywide training in high-rise fire fighting and evacuation provided by the Illinois Fire Service Institute also contributed to the successful fire fighting operations.

LaSalle Bank's storied collection of fine-art photographs survived the perilous fire at the bank's Chicago headquarters in 2004. It's one of the oldest and largest photography collections in the corporate environment.

The bank’s collection of 4,500 works includes photos by nature photographer Ansel Adams, Civil War photographer Mathew Brady, and photography pioneer William Henry Fox Talbot. It spans the history of photography, from some of the earliest images ever taken to contemporary works.

Compiled by Neil Gale, Ph.D.