The Great Hinckley Fire was a conflagration in the pine forests of the U.S. state of Minnesota that ignited on September 1, 1894, which burned an area of at least 200,000 acres (810 km2; 310 sq mi) (perhaps more than 250,000 acres [1,000 km2; 390 sq mi]), including the town of Hinckley. The official death count was 418; the actual number of fatalities was likely higher. Other sources put the death toll at 476.
Description
After a two-month summer drought, combined with very high temperatures, several small fires started in the pine forests of Pine County, Minnesota. Two of the fires in particular ignited along the railroad tracks southwest and south of Hinckley, in Quamba and Brown's Hill, respectively. Bog and grass fires, sometimes touched off by steam locomotives, were commonplace in the late-summers of rural Minnesota; the fires' spread apparently was due to the then-common method of lumber harvesting, wherein trees were stripped of their branches in place; these branches littered the ground with flammable debris. Also contributing was a temperature inversion that trapped the gases from the fires. The scattered blazes united into a firestorm.
September 1, 1894
At noon, a strong wind began to blow, and an ominous cloud of smoke hung over the town. The smoke had been noted earlier that morning, but initially many were not concerned, until a gust of sparks landed in the yard of the Brennan Lumber Company, starting small fires which were quickly extinguished, but worried the employees. Many concerned townsfolk left on the noon train. Indeed, at 1:00pm, Chief John Craig of the Hinckley volunteer fire department rang the fire gong, calling all the town's firemen to the engine house, to prepare for what was suspected to be a mere brush fire. Half an hour later, the wind from the south increased in speed, and the fire began to advance with frightening rapidity toward the town.
At 2:00pm, the first casualties occurred when the firestorm razed the town of Pokegama (today Brook Park) nine miles south of Hinckley, killing 23. Many saved themselves by jumping into a nearby mill pond, into which a burning railroad trestle collapsed, cutting off rail access on the Great Northern Railway between Hinckley and St. Cloud. Fireman Chief Craig instructed Thomas Dunn, Hinckley's telegrapher at the St. Paul & Duluth Railroad depot, to contact nearby Rush City for additional water hoses. As he did, the Pokegama railroad station wired ahead to warn of the approaching firestorm, before the lines were burned through.
By 2:30pm, the volunteer firefighters in Hinckley made their stand on the south edge of town, with 2,000 feet of hose and a steam powered fire cart, engaging spot fires that the main firestorm had thrown ahead of them into the outskirts of town, which caught and began burning structures. Men also began to show up with wagons loaded with barrels of water. At the same time, the small hamlet of Mission Creek just south of Hinckley, was razed by the flaming front. No one was killed, the majority of the town taking cover in a potato field.
At 2:45pm, the Eastern Railway of Minnesota's Superior-Hinckley freight train came into town from the north. This train consisted of engine #105, three empty boxcars and a caboose. It was being run by engineer Edward Barry, who already sensed that something was wrong. He found the town deserted—everyone was out fighting the fire, which by this point was coming on in a great, solid wall to the east, south, and west, estimated anywhere between 200 feet to four miles high. The entire town itself wasn't burning yet, but a few select buildings and the railyards beyond the Eastern depot were; the ties were on fire, the rails were warping, and the wheels of freight cars fused to the rails. A southbound passenger train bound for Minneapolis consisting of Great Northern engine #125 and six coaches being run by engineer William Best was due in at 3:25pm, and Barry hoped that it would arrive on time.
Even by 3:00pm, with some buildings ablaze, many of Hinckley's residents did not believe the fire would make it past the firebreaks and the railroad embankments and enter the heart of town. 15 minutes later, the last employees of the Brennan Lumber Company to survive fled from the lumberyard; all others who stayed behind for fear of losing their jobs were killed.
Much to Edward Barry's relief, William Best's passenger train was on time, and as it came to a halt at the Eastern station, a small crowd had already gathered to board. By this point, the wind was blowing a full gale, and burning embers showered George Ford, Best's fireman, as he struggled to take on water. The heat was so terrific that Ford was driven three times from the spout, but he kept aware that if the engine ran out of steam, he, the rest of the crew, and all of the passengers would die. Best's conductor, H.D. Powers went into the station to inquire about the conditions of the track south of town. After learning of the warning from the Pokegama train station, he determined the line to be impassable. Powers spotted Barry's freight sitting nearby on a sidetrack and proposed hooking the two trains together, using Best's coaches and Barry's boxcars to carry refugees to safety. Both crews agreed, and Barry reversed off of the sidetrack and attached his engine and cars to the rear coach of William Best's train.
Five minutes later, the fire burned through the hose of the Hinckley fire department's water pumper, rendering it useless. Residents, now realizing that the town was doomed, began a desperate run to save their lives as the rapidly intensifying heat and the roar of the fire approached. Some rushed for the Eastern Minnesota train, aided by Reverend Peter Knudsen (Hinckley's Presbyterian minister) and his wife. Others ran north along the St.P&D and Eastern Minnesota tracks. By 3:45pm, a searing wind was blowing a curtain of dense black smoke, cinders, and firebrands through the dusty street; so great was the radiating heat that many townspeople's clothes caught fire before the main fire even arrived.
Destruction of Hinckley
The temperature rose to at least 2,000 °F (1,100 °C). Barrels of nails melted into one mass.
At 4:00pm, the town "virtually exploded" as any structures not already burning simultaneously burst into flames as the wall of fire leapt forth. Burning balls of gas drifted overhead from the mouth of the flaming front and exploded above the town. To some it seemed that even the very air was on fire, affording most unprepared at least two deep breaths before their lungs were seared and death was certain; the roaring of the fire storm drowned out the desiccated screams of the townspeople. Dense smoke completely hid the Sun, but as buildings took fire they "briefly lit the howling darkness like flashes of lightning". Frame buildings detonated like bundles of fireworks, crumbling or bursting into flames purely from the radiating heat, before any fire even reached them. Some residents escaped by climbing into wells (where some then suffocated due to lack of oxygen), ponds, or the Grindstone River (almost dry from the summer drought). A gravel pit on the southeast side of town, dug by the Eastern Minnesota near their depot for a source of rail ballast, once drew the ire of locals for being an eyesore; now it heralded the survival of hundreds, who, with the goading of Reverend Knutsen, all but threw themselves (and in some cases, their horses and cows) into the few inches of fetid water that had accumulated at the bottom of the pit. The only person who died in the pit had suffered a heart attack from the scene.
Best, now at the rear of the composite rescue train, controlled all the airbrakes for the consist, which saved many; when Barry attempted to leave and began to move the train, Best threw on the airbrakes to stay as long as possible for the fleeing townsfolk. Barry's conductor warned Best that Barry would cut off his engine and leave them behind, but Best was unconvinced, and stood his ground, despite being "constantly implored to go" as Barry repeatedly whistled the signal to leave. By this point, the paint was melting and beginning to run off the sides of the cars, and the ties beneath them were afire. Men, women, children, and animals fell into the streets ablaze just yards from the rescue train. Finally, Best released the brakes and the train advanced. As the train pulled out of the stricken town, Best turned for one final look and saw houses
burning so rapidly that one could see bedroom sets and other contents of the rooms. The fire would seem to burn the sides right off the buildings, revealing the contents in the glare. Buildings seemed to melt rather than burn in the fierce glow.
Barry briefly stopped the train on the other side of the Grindstone River to pick up 40 more refugees. Over a hundred refugees running north on the wagon road toward Sandstone made for the train, but the rails were buckling with heat. With much apprehension, and the fire still advancing, Barry and Best were forced to leave them behind. Some of these refugees then attempted to immerse themselves in a nearby swamp, but due to the drought it was shallow. Unlike in the gravel pit, when the fire caught those sheltering in the middle of the swamp, all 127 present burned to death, the greatest concentrated loss of life of the entire event.
After the departure of the Eastern Minnesota train, a number of citizens took refuge in the St.P&D station nearby. However, when the depot eventually caught fire, everybody inside fled the building with the exception of station agent Thomas Dunn. For several minutes, Dunn valiantly remained at his post manning the telegraph key in the depot, aware that the southbound No. 4 Duluth Limited to Saint Paul was due. He had time to send one final message, "I think I've stayed too long", to the Partridge depot moments before his burning depot collapsed. Sources differ on where his body was found, whether in the rubble of the depot, or down by the Grindstone River. Regardless, Dunn either made no attempt or waited until the last possible moment to make an attempt to escape, and lost his life.
James Root, the engineer of the Duluth Limited, had cautiously approached the town at a reduced speed of 40 miles an hour after traveling through gradually thickening smoke for almost the entire journey. One mile north of Hinckley, badly burned and hysterical refugees fleeing north up the tracks encountered his train, pleading to be let aboard. The train was unable to go any further into town, as the railroad bridge leading into Hinckley had already been damaged. Root, his fireman John McGowan, conductor Tom Sullivan, and porter John Blair took aboard as many as they could, before Root reversed, intending to make for the waters of Skunk Lake, five miles distant. Sullivan was doubtful; "We will never make it there alive!" Root's response was unmoved, terse: "Then we will die together," he said matter-of-factly.