History of the big bonanza

by Dan De Quille

A majority of those who go on prospecting expeditions do not want to find a place where there is going to be much hard work to be done. They prefer rambling through the country and viewing new and curious sights to sinking shafts and running tunnels. If they can’t find gold or silver in rock that shows itself on the surface, they continue to travel. The novelty of delving in the earth for the precious metals has long since passed away in the case of the old miner or prospector. New-comers—known as “pilgrims” or “greenhorns”—are much more likely to do real work when on a prospecting trip than any of the old miners. In the case of the pilgrim there is a fascination in the bare fact that he is digging for silver or gold which drives him on and lends strength to his muscle.

THE GREAT FIRE.

[OCTOBER, 1875.]

Many large fires have at various times swept through Virginia City, but the greatest and most destructive that ever occurred in the town was that of October 26, 1875. At 6 o’clock on the morning of that day a fire started in a little wooden lodging-house on A street, in the western part of the town, which in a few hours destroyed all the buildings standing on an area of ground half a mile square, in the heart of the city. Most of the public buildings and the hoisting-works, and many other buildings of the bonanza mines, were burned. In all, property to the value of over $10,000,000 was swept away. About two thousand buildings were reduced to ruins, and hundreds of persons left homeless and destitute.

The fire started at an hour when few persons were abroad. Only the butchers, bakers, marketmen, and other early risers were astir. The “owls” of the city, birds of prey that haunt the place all night, had disappeared with the grey of dawn and were in their first deep sleep; the time was an hour too early for the change of shifts in the mines, therefore at no other time, day or night, could the streets have been found more completely deserted.

When the first fire-bells rang few persons heeded, even though they heard them. Soon, however, the mournful and long-drawn wail of one steam-whistle after another, in quick succession, was heard to join in sounding the alarm till the fierce clangor of the bells was almost drowned. The bells, loudly as they rang, only said: “There is a fire,” but in the fierce, wild shriek of the whistles there was that which thrilled all, and which said as though with a human voice: “There is a fire, and a great and most dangerous one!” In the sounding of the whistles it was to be noted that there was no hesitation or timidity anywhere shown; each engineer pulled open the valve of his whistle to its full extent, at the first grasp of his hand.

The fire started in the midst of scores of wooden buildings, and seemed to dart above all the surrounding roofs at the first bound. In addition to their being constructed of wood, nearly the whole of the buildings in the neighborhood were lined with cotton cloth, on which was pasted paper, as on a plastered wall. The partitions dividing the room, and the ceilings of all the rooms, were also constructed of muslin and wall-paper. Hardly a drop of rain had fallen during the preceding summer months, and the whole town was as inflammable as scorched flax.

Almost instantly the column of fire that was at first seen to arise began to assume the form of a pyramid. The base of this pyramid rapidly extended into the sides of houses in all directions—the glass falling in showers from the windows to give ingress to the flames—and structure after structure burst out in sheets of fire more rapidly than could be counted or noted down. Shouts of men and women rang through the halls of all the large hotels and lodging-houses in the neighborhood, and loud rappings, to arouse the sleepers, were heard at the doors of rooms. Nearer the scene of the fire, persons of all ages, both sexes, and every condition were fleeing for their lives in all stages of dress and all manner of undress. Many of those nearest the building in which the fire broke out had only time to leap from their beds and rush into the streets, as their houses were wrapped in fire before they were aware of their danger.

At the time the fire burst forth a fierce gale was blowing from the west. This carried great sheets of wall-paper, blazing shingles, and a great shower of fiery missiles of all kinds high into the air and far to the eastward, kindling fresh fires in advance of the main roaring mass of flame. The main body of the fire streamed before the gale as fierce as the flame from a blow-pipe. It stopped for nothing. It was seen resting against the side of a stone or brick building for a minute, then black smoke began to roll up through the roof, and a moment after the smoke became flame—flame that joined the main stream and darted on and through all that stood in its way.

Many of the buildings destroyed were such as had always been thought fire-proof; but they fell before the fire as quickly as though they had been the commonest of wooden structures. There was apparently much fire in the midst of the streets as within the buildings; indeed the whole air seemed on fire. Water thrown into the midst of the flames produced no effect unless, as many thought, it added to their fury and fierceness. Although the firemen were at work with both hand-engines and steamers, while yet but few buildings were involved, the water they threw upon the burning buildings might as well have been as much oil, for any effect it had in checking the flames. The firemen were driven back from every point where they attempted to make a stand, and it soon became evident that no efforts of theirs could check the progress of the fire. It was such a fire as that which swept Chicago and Boston—a fire as fierce and uncontrollable as though belched up from the bottomless pits of the lower regions.