Exploring Western Massachusetts: January 2008

Sunday, January 27, 2008

Poem: The Arsenal at Springfield, H. W. Longfellow, 1845

"Organ of Muskets," Springfield Armory, c 1940

The Arsenal at Springfield

THIS is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling,
Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms;
But front their silent pipes no anthem pealing
Startles the villages with strange alarms.

Ah! what a sound will rise, how wild and dreary,
When the death-angel touches those swift keys
What loud lament and dismal Miserere
Will mingle with their awful symphonies

I hear even now the infinite fierce chorus,
The cries of agony, the endless groan,
Which, through the ages that have gone before us,
In long reverberations reach our own.

On helm and harness rings the Saxon hammer,
Through Cimbric forest roars the Norseman's song,
And loud, amid the universal clamor,
O'er distant deserts sounds the Tartar gong.

I hear the Florentine, who from his palace
Wheels out his battle-bell with dreadful din,
And Aztec priests upon their teocallis
Beat the wild war-drums made of serpent's skin;

The tumult of each sacked and burning village;
The shout that every prayer for mercy drowns;
The soldiers' revels in the midst of pillage;
The wail of famine in beleaguered towns;

The bursting shell, the gateway wrenched asunder,
The rattling musketry, the clashing blade;
And ever and anon, in tones of thunder,
The diapason of the cannonade.

Is it, O man, with such discordant noises,
With such accursed instruments as these,
Thou drownest Nature's sweet and kindly voices,
And jarrest the celestial harmonies?

Were half the power, that fills the world with terror,
Were half the wealth, bestowed on camps and courts,
Given to redeem the human mind from error,
There were no need of arsenals or forts:

The warrior's name would be a name abhorred!
And every nation, that should lift again
Its hand against a brother, on its forehead
Would wear forevermore the curse of Cain!

Down the dark future, through long generations,
The echoing sounds grow fainter and then cease;
And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations,
I hear once more the voice of Christ say, "Peace!"

Peace! and no longer from its brazen portals
The blast of War's great organ shakes the skies!
But beautiful as songs of the immortals,
The holy melodies of love arise.

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1845)

Photo from Library of Congress Prints & Photographs Division, Farm Security Administration - Office of War Information Photograph Collection, Digital ID: fsa 8b08950, Alfred T. Palmer, photographer, circa 1940

Photos: Westfield Night, Light & Color

Random snaps through a holiday-festooned and busy little city...

Saturday, January 5, 2008

Ashes in an Hour: Springfield's City Hall Fire of January 6, 1905

City Hall, Springfield, Mass. Digital ID: G90F284_011F. New York Public Library

City Hall, Springfield, Mass. (created 1865?-1885?)
NYPL Digital Gallery, Robert N. Dennis collection of stereoscopic views

It's said that truth can be stranger than fiction. It's not difficult to subscribe to that view in the case of the fire that occurred on Friday, January 6, 1905, that quickly and decisively decimated Springfield's City Hall. Allegedly the result of a wayward monkey up to unnoticed mischief during the slack-time noon hour of an exhibition being held in the building, the inferno is said to have begun when the suspect simian overturned an unattended kerosene lamp. The rapidly spreading flames easily claimed the life of the structure and, very nearly, some of the folks who made their living inside. The building, located on Court Street just east of the current Municipal Group, had reached the half-century mark just four days before, originally dedicated on January 1, 1855.

The New York Times was quick to press with the story, publishing on the same day this brief account of the blaze, under the headline "$50,000 Fire in Springfield," with the sub-heading, "City Hall Completely Destroyed - Narrow Escapes From Death."

"Springfield, Mass, Jan. 6 - Springfield City Hall, valued at more than $50,000 was completely destroyed by fire in less than an hour to-day. The fire was discovered in the Assembly hall at 12:45 by employees of a food fair being held in the hall. There were probably fifty people in the building, and the flames spread so rapidly that there were many narrow escapes, but it is believed all got out.

It is believed that the fire was caused by the overturning of a kerosene lamp on the stage in the Assembly hall, where the fair was being held."

The photograph of the old City Hall below is scanned from the book 'Springfield Present and Prospective,' published in 1905. Authors, Judge Alfred Copeland and Edwin Dwight, had this to say about the City Hall, just recently burned at the time of the book's publication:

"The late city hall was built in 1854 and dedicated January 1, 1855, and it answered the purpose for which it was designed fairly well. It housed the several departments of the city government, including at one time the police court room, and it housed the police department with lock-up accommodations. The school committee also had rooms in the building. Its ample audience room proved defective in acoustic qualities; but after several years of experimenting it was greatly improved in that respect. Its destruction by fire revealed the fact that it was a fire trap."

A more intriguing account of the fire is contained in the book "The History of Springfield in Massachusetts for the Young," by Charles H. Barrows, published in 1911 by the Connecticut Valley Historical Society. Here is Barrow's account:

"Soon after the incorporation of the city there was built a City Hall, a large and towered building, holding all the city offices and also having a big audience room for public meetings. There was a bell in the tower that took up the work of the church bell, in announcing to the people, in the ancient fashion, that the hour of nine o'clock at night had come. It was also the bell of the clock, striking the hours. The nine o'clock bell was at last discontinued and in later years replaced by the so-called curfew or bell at half-past nine. For half a century City Hall was the favorite for large political meetings, fairs and concerts, but in 1905 it was destroyed by fire and the great bell fell to the ground.

An exhibition was being held in the large hall. At the noon hour this hall was nearly deserted. A kerosene lamp was burning and a monkey got loose. Whether the monkey overturned the lamp and caused the fire is not certainly known. The fire was the occasion of a fine example of devotion to duty by two assistants in the office of the city clerk. Their names were Edith M. Ware and Bertha B. Fuller. They had both been pupils in Springfield schools. For the protection of the priceless records of the city, there was a great fire-proof vault. It was necessary to take out the records during the day for use, but at its close they were replaced in the vault. At the beginning of the fire the city clerk was absent. When the knowledge of the fire reached his office it had made much headway and danger was near. The first impulse, of course, would be to flee, and, indeed, everyone was fleeing from the building; but there were the heavy books of priceless records lying about. The two clerks gathered them all up, placed them all in the vault, and then shut and locked the ponderous door. This took time and courage. Meanwhile the fire was upon them and they were but just able to escape; in fact, Miss Fuller, arriving at the door of the building, was so overcome by smoke that she had to be rescued by others.

Thus the lesson of duty, having been early learned, received its magnificent illustration in the face of danger and death, and becomes part of the history of the city. We recall the motto of John Pynchon, when, self-interest tempting him to remove from Springfield and leave the town to its fate, he wrote that he should 'Stick to It.'"

As always, thanks for stopping by and take care.