USA > Rhode Island > The "Old Stone Bank" history of Rhode Island, Vol. I > Part 16
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" ... 6000 torch-bearers paraded the city streets, and the panoramic display along the route of march by the patriotic residents of Broadway and other public thorofares was remarkably brilliant and impressive; while the enthusiasm among the vast con- gregation of spectators from all parts of the State was spontaneous and universal all along the line of march. Broadway was transformed into a radiant and charming avenue of sulphurous candle and gaslight which was blended in vari-colored beauty and effulgence. Many of the residences were handsomely decorated at intervals along Broadway, High and Broad Streets. The inpouring of people by rail, steamboat and private conveyance equalled the most san- guine expectations of the committees under whose auspices the demonstration was held, and they were massed solidly on the side- walks along the route long before the col- umn started and seized every available point of observation. Special trains, boats and horse cars were constantly arriving from suburban localities and the city has seldom been the objective of so many thousands.
"The police arrangements were admir- ably conceived and consummated and the evening passed without serious disturbance or incident of an alarming nature. Ample precautions were taken for the service of lunches to out-of-town organizations by the committees and industrial organizations, and it was past midnight when the last torch was extinguished and the season of fra- ternization had terminated."
Street demonstrations were not always in order for ardent supporters of presidential candidates in the last century. In 1888 the news declared that the State demonstration by one of the major parties did not attain the splendid proportions of spectacular magnificence and unbounded enthusiasm which characterized the grand pageant at the close of the Blaine-Cleveland campaign in 1884. Many of the stump orators in their discussion of the dominant issues of the hour have taken occasion to emphasize the declaration that this was not a "kero- sene and redfire campaign, but rather, one devoted to sober and thoughtful discussion of a great economic question", and the ab- sence of torch-bearing regiments and bat- talions was a convincing proof of that statement.
The description of Lincoln's second cam- paign for the presidency reminds one of the last stages of present day drives for the support of candidates. Little more than two months remained before election day in November and every speaker that could be commandeered was put into active serv- ice. Lincoln himself, however, took no ac- tive part in the campaign outside of a few addresses to soldiers. Mass meetings, how- ever, were held every day and night of the week and popular preachers in favor of his cause filled their discourses with appeals in behalf of Lincoln and the necessity of his re-election for the preservation of the Union. Henry Ward Beecher became a tower of strength for the Lincoln cause, and in and out of the Plymouth pulpit he advocated the duty of sustaining the ad- ministration that had already saved the Union and must ultimately put down the Rebellion. The campaign became one of great acrimony on both sides. Night and day without cessation young men in halls, upon street corners, and from cart-tails
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were haranguing, delivering sermons and orations, arguing, extolling the causes of their candidates and denouncing the op- ponents. A great deal of oratory, elocution, rhetoric, declamation and eloquence was hurled into the troubled air by speakers on both sides.
Nor were the candidates of other days free from the fine-combing of personal habits, manners and characteristics that the press so freely indulges in, hoping to leave good or bad impressions of those who seek the highest office in the land. One of the papers of another century reported the visit of a presidential candidate to this State as follows: "At an out-of-doors reception in the State of Rhode Island the candidate stood with a big cigar in his mouth, supporting himself with a heavy cane in one hand while
with the other he shook the hands of the people. At a reception in the hotel parlor in Norwich, Connecticut, in the presence of refined and elegantly attired women, care- ful of the cleanliness of the gowns as these swept the floor, he stood with a cigar in his mouth, coarsely expectorating upon the floor."
Election excitement and campaign en- thusiasm have changed but little in spirit since the days of Wide-Awakes and sup- porters of the courageous Dorr in Rhode Island. At the time of the Lincoln-Douglas campaign, election returns came to excited Rhode Islanders by telegraph and complete returns were not available to the public for days after the election. News in the papers was limited to a statement of the outcome, with no colorful descriptions of the local contests throughout the country.
MOWRY & GOFF'S SCHOOL
THE historic English and Classical School, which was better and more pop- ularly known as Mowry & Goff's, will always remain one of the brightest spots in Rhode Island's educational history. Con- ceived by one of the State's greatest educa- tors, the late William A. Mowry, to meet a definite need, it realized his high ideals in a manner which has never been equalled, either before or since. Following a period of service in the Civil War, Mr. Mowry, then Principal of the Boys' English High School, in Providence, found the high war- time prices too much for his $1,200 salary, and so he, like many of his associates, looked about for a more profitable con- nection. Understanding the shortcomings of the public school system as it then ex- isted, Mr. Mowry had ambitions towards a
private school for boys. Being approached on the same subject by three prominent citi- zens, who promised their support, Mr. Mowry took into his confidence John J. Ladd, Principal of the Boys' Classical High School.
They went into the matter in great detail, with the result that they both presented their resignations, and went immediately to the Providence Journal office, where they pre- pared an announcement stating that on Feb- ruary 22nd they would open a private school for boys. This was on the 8th; no location had been considered, and so none was mentioned in the advertisement. Never- theless, rooms were promptly secured in the Lyceum Building, on Westminster Street, Providence, and 50 desks and chairs in- stalled. Monday morning, Washington's
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Birthday, 1864, the new school opened with about 50 applicants. By the end of the term there were 53 scholars, and 66 during the next term. During the summer, Mr. Ladd retired to become a paymaster in the army, and so Mr. Mowry induced his friend, Charles B. Goff, Principal of the Fall River High School, to join him, and thus began an association which was to mean so much for Rhode Island. Eighty-seven pupils reg- istered for the fall term. By the next July there were 181, and larger quarters were taken in the Narragansett Block.
It was following this change that How- ard M. Rice, Principal of the Woonsocket High School, came to the school to which he was destined to devote the rest of his life. The faculty grew rapidly, and many names of noted educators abound in the school records. Richard W. Smith, who became a partner in Goff, Rice & Smith, at the retire- ment of Mr. Mowry, came into the picture in 1871, from Amesbury, Mass. Two years before this, in September, 1869, the school moved to the Fletcher Building, at the cor- ner of Westminster and Eddy Streets, where the Journal Building now stands. They occupied half of one floor, all of the next, and half of another, in the building which extended through to Fulton Street. This served until 1875, when Mowry & Goff's ac- quired its own building at 63 Snow Street. Here, indeed, was a model school building of three stories.
The Public Library had the street floor and the school, the two upper floors. On the second floor were recitation rooms and a large chapel. On the third was the drill hall, the laboratory and recitation rooms. Both floors were exceptionally high studded, per- fectly lighted and ventilated, and fitted with the finest of schoolroom equipment. The chemical laboratory, in particular, an inno- vation in those days, later served as a model for the city's high school.
In 1884, the state of Mr. Mowry's health compelled his retirement, and his interest was purchased by his associates. Mr. Mowry moved to Hyde Park, Massachusetts, where he died in 1917. The school was his brain- child and his greatest interest, and he con- tinued to keep a fatherly eye on its prog- ress, and undoubtedly contributed much helpful advice, in spite of his enforced sep- aration from it. The failure of Mr. Smith's
health later forced him to retire, his interest being acquired by Mr. Goff and Mr. Rice, who continued to share the management until Mr. Goff's death in 1898. By this time the public schools had made such advances, that the need for a school like Mowry & Goff's became less.
The University Grammar School, founded in 1764, on College Hill, likewise felt a falling off in patronage, and so the two were combined, in 1898, under the direction of Mr. Rice. A merger with the Friends' School, now Moses Brown School, in 1904, brought to a close the brilliant career of the school whose influence had so much to do with the advancement of educational meth- ods throughout the state. Its list of gradu- ates reads like a page from "Who's Who in Rhode Island", and it is difficult to refrain from listing them all. Mowry & Goff's had over 500 graduates, and, all told, served more than 1500 pupils from the most prom- inent families in the State.
Former pupils have many happy recol- lections of Mrs. Harriet A. Dean, whose Preparatory Department was affectionately dubbed "The Deanery"; of that grand old lady, Mrs. Harriette M. Miller, the elocution teacher, and that favorite line of hers about "the tintinabulation of the tinkling, tinkling bells"; Miss Mabel C. French, the ambi- dextrous teacher of arithmetic and geog- raphy, who could write equally well with either hand; Walter J. Towne, and Clarence H. Manchester, now Principal of Technical High School, who gave the names of all the boys a Latin twist; and so on.
The military side of the school was very important, especially on Fridays, when the parents and, of course, the young ladies were invited to witness dress parade. The military organization was one of the school's most popular features. It helped maintain discipline and gave color to all school activities. The occasional street pa- rades will never be forgotten by the par- ticipants. Springfield rifles lined the racks in the drill hall, and all pupils, regardless of size, took part in regular drills several times a week.
Outstanding among the instructors, whom none will ever forget, was General Charles R. Dennis, whose insistence on military pre- cision was rigorous, to say the least. In the later years, the uniform equipment was
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brought up to army regulations, and a high standard followed which brought generous applause whenever a public drill was held in Infantry, or Music Hall. Many of the leaders in local military affairs got their first training in the Mowry & Goff Battalion. This school was one of the first to introduce gymnastic training, and a session in the gym was part of the daily routine. The now familiar setting up exercises helped keep lungs and body in trim.
Pupils of Mowry & Goff's enjoyed the great benefits of individual instruction. Mr. Mowry contended that 10 scholars to a teacher was enough, and the number never exceeded 15. Thus it was possible to really understand the pupil and give to each the help that would accomplish the most for
him. Here, also, we have the secret of the affection which the scholars developed for their teachers, who were always on the most intimate terms with the boys. Teachers were selected for their special fitness, and num- berless innovations in teaching practice, now in common use, originated in Mowry & Goff's classrooms.
It would be interesting to touch on some of the sidelights of life at this interesting school, such as the surreptitious visits to Handy's Museum on Mondays and Thurs- days; the forbidden delicacies smuggled in from Remington & Sessions' and Rausch's Bakery, etc., but space does not permit. It is said, however, that the only boy ever whipped by Mr. Mowry later became a prominent clergyman.
FAMOUS FEBRUARY FIRES
F EBRUARY has long been famous in the minds of present day Providence folks as the month of fires, for it is in this, the shortest month of the year, that most of the city's best remembered fires have occurred. Why this is so has never been satisfactorily explained and apparently never will be, the once common cause-overtaxed heating sys- tems-not being blamed in a single one of the outstanding conflagrations.
The month looms largest in the history of downtown fires, for on February 15th, 1888, came the disastrous Aldrich House blaze, the burning of the historic Theatre Comique, and the destructive fire in the Daniels Build- ing-all in the business section, and all within the brief space of 88 hours. The first two started in the night and the third on Sunday afternoon. What caused them was never determined. It is not hard, then, to account for the generally prevailing fear that some firebug had set about to destroy the city's business district, and it is evident from all that can be learned that only the
marked efficiency of the fire department saved the city from a veritable holocaust.
The so-called Aldrich House fire stands as the most spectacular fire Providence has ever experienced. Many fires have lasted longer but none has provided so much of the picturesque.
The burning of the Theatre Comique would have been considered a very ordinary affair, coming at any other time, except that it removed for all time an institution not looked upon with favor in polite circles.
The blaze in the Daniels Building-pop- ularly referred to as the Daniels, Cornell fire-followed on the heels of the Theatre Comique incident, and had more potential possibilities for serious results, which, for- tunately, did not materialize.
This chain of destructive events began at 11:45 on the night of February 15th, when an engineer, seated in the cab of his locomo- tive outside the Union Station, discovered a fire well under way in the building known as Chace's Block, a four-story wooden build-
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ing at the corner of Eddy and Fountain Streets, where the Enterprise Building now stands. He pulled his whistle cord, and the sharp night air was rent with a shrill screech. The blast continued without let up until long after the alarm had been rung and the apparatus had settled down to its diffi- cult task.
A roaring furnace greeted the firemen, the tongues of fire reaching out with such speed that in a little more than two hours the entire block bounded by Fountain, Eddy, Washington and Union Streets was swept clean and all that remained of a half million dollars worth of property was a mass of smouldering debris. The Chace Block, where the fire started in the store of Henry Staples, disappeared in half an hour. Bill- ings' Block, Billings' Stable, The Aldrich House, Shattuck's Exchange and the inter- vening structures succumbed quickly and contributed their part in the making of a mammoth bonfire from which vast showers of sparks flew in every direction, some go- ing as far as the Rhode Island Hospital.
The fire burned rapidly until it reached the Aldrich House, which caught at 12:20, but it was 12:45 before it got well under way, and then, thanks to the sturdy north wall, the progress of the fire was moderated to a degree which enabled the firemen to get matters well under control. This wall pre- vented the spread of the blaze to Westmin- ster Street, and undoubtedly saved the entire business section from being wiped out. Sparks set fire to much surrounding prop- erty, but all were saved from serious dam- age by the active firemen.
Never in the history of the department have our firemen had to contend with such handicaps. It was bitterly cold-the ther- mometer registering 12 above-and a fierce west wind drove the paralyzing cold almost into the marrow of the fire-fighters' bones. Every man was covered from head to foot with ice which had to be chopped off so that he could move, and the whiskers which so many wore at that time were thick with icicles.
The surrounding streets were a mass of ice and fire hose. Ice a foot thick had to be thawed out the next day to release the hose. Firemen waded in icy water to their knees. Hook & Ladder No. 6 had to abandon its big Hayes extension ladder truck which was
frozen solid against the wall of the Aldrich House, which looked like a fairy ice palace. The spectacle is one which will never be forgotten by those who saw it.
Fortunately no lives were lost and all horses in both the Billings and Elliott Sta- bles were saved. Only the walls of the Ald- rich House remained standing and these were razed later in the week as a safety pre- caution.
Saturday morning, the 18th, five minutes after midnight, a blaze was discovered through a window in front of the stage of the Theatre Comique. This was a variety and burlesque theatre, situated where the Swarts Building now stands on Weybosset Street at the corner of Orange. The flimsy wooden structure was soon badly wrecked, and with the adjoining Telegraph House was replaced with the present building. Sam T. Jack's Lilly Clay's Burlesquers, which was the current attraction, suffered badly from the water damage to costumes, but with a duplicate set a performance was given that night in Low's Opera House (now the Vic- tory Theatre) . The passing of the Comique brought few regrets and the new building was considered a much greater asset to the district.
Immediately on the heels of the Theatre Comique fire, on Sunday afternoon, the 19th, fire attacked the Daniels Building on Custom House Street. This five-story brick building occupied by Daniels, Cornell & Co., wholesale grocers, J. A. & R. A. Reid, print- ers, and various others, rose from the ashes of its predecessor which went down in the great fire of September 27th, 1877. The light wind and mild weather, together with high surrounding buildings from which the fight was conducted enabled the firemen to confine the flames. The real fire damage was in the famous printing plant of J. A. & R. A. Reid, on the top floor. Their loss was heavy. The others lost mostly from water although tenants of upper floors also felt some effects from the flames.
While this fire was at its height a group of visiting firemen from Pawtucket, watching from the roof of the Vaughn Building across Custom House Street, discovered a big blaze out their own way. They rushed off to what proved to be the complete destruction of the old Lebanon Mill on the Ten Mile River, three miles from Pawtucket.
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Later in the evening the wool waste storehouse of the Riverside-Oswego. Mills on Manton Avenue joined the list, and was about three-quarters destroyed. The Rough & Ready Company of Johnston, helping at the Daniels, Cornell fire, made a fast run to Olneyville, and did their share here as well.
This completes the list for this particular week. The next February contribution was the remarkable Providence Coal Company fire which broke out in the wharf and eleva- tor at the foot of Dorrance Street on Feb- ruary 3d, 1889. At this fire the department was in constant service until May 7th-a record for the firemen. More than 12,000 tons of coal kept the fire going in spite of anything that could be done, for nearly three months. The details are interesting but too lengthy for consideration here.
The next notable February fire was the destruction of the old Union Station on Feb- ruary 20th, 1896. As most of us remember, this fire eliminated an out-of-date structure
and brought us the beautiful Union Station we now have. The old one stood just across Exchange Place opposite Butler Exchange, and was not noted for its architectural beauty.
In 1899, on the 11th of February, the Star Theatre on Westminster Street, opposite Summer, conducted by Charles Allen, who later built the Union Theatre (now Fay's) on Union Street, (where Billings' Stable stood at the time of the Aldrich House fire) was gutted. It was abandoned as a theatre and remodeled to its present form, after the fire. It was in this building that the State Normal School was located from 1871 to 1879.
Lincoln's birthday, 1908, saw the Tanner Starch Factory fire during which five men were killed by explosions.
It is pleasing to record that February is improving, and bad fires are getting much less frequent.
ONE OF THE CITY'S FIRST FIRE ALARM BELLS
B ELLS have played an important part in the lives of most of us. It was a bell which urged us to speed our lagging feet to school. A bell called us to our task in mill or factory. A gently tolling bell bade us hasten to our devotions. Warning us, as they did, of a duty to be performed, it is not strange that their tones seldom aroused in us any great emotion. None but psycholo- gists can explain why the ringing of the same, identical bells to proclaim to all with- in earshot that somewhere a fire was in prog- ress, never fails to arouse us to instant ac- tion, and makes us drop everything and rush pell mell to the scene of the blaze, re- gardless of how trivial it may be.
The attainment, by Providence, of metro- politan proportions resulted in the elimina-
tion of most of these familiar bells. Chimes have supplanted the bells on many of our churches, although the historic bell of the First Baptist Meeting House and those of a very few other old churches are still with us. Here and there a factory bell lingers, but the most stirring of them all-the fire bell -is no more. The firemen find it hard enough to cope with the crowds which flock from the immediate neighborhood, without inviting the added handicap of the outpour- ing which used to follow the sounding of an alarm.
In the early days of the 19th century, Providence had one fire alarm bell. It hung in the tower of the old Pine Street Baptist Church at the corner of Pine and Dorrance Streets, where the Masonic Temple
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now stands. This church, by the way, was built in 1807 and was destroyed during the great gale of September 23d, 1815. A new church was erected the following year, but was abandoned in 1857 when the church combined with the Richmond Street Church and built the Central Baptist Church, on Weybosset Street.
Gardner T. Swarts bought the old church at auction in 1857, converting it into a pub- lic hall and theatre. The State Militia used it as a drill hall in 1863, and it was de- stroyed by fire on April 1st of that year.
In these days the fire alarm system con- sisted of a number of ordinary push buttons, protected from meddling by a paper disc which was easily broken when it became necessary to give an alarm. The discoverer of the fire usually shouted the warning, and the signalling of the location on the nearest button brought about the ringing of the church bell. The procedure was simple but effective. The building diagonally opposite the church-remembered by most of us as the Revere Hotel (now renamed the Milton Building) - was then the home of Mr. Swarts, who lived on the second floor and conducted an undertaking establishment on the street floor. A call box was located on the second floor just outside the bedroom of Mr. Swarts-the call being 3-2, indicating the Third Ward, Second District. A strong wire attached to the tongue of the bell ex- tended across the street to the roof of the Swarts homestead and down into the entry beside the call box. Simple alarms were sounded from this point, but if the fire proved serious, someone went across to the church and rang the bell by swinging it.
When the church itself was burned the bell was kept ringing by means of the wire until it finally fell into the lower vestibule. Many spectators, not knowing about the wire, imagined they saw someone in the tower ringing the bell. Members of the old hand tub companies, having a certain affec- tion for the bell, risked their lives to rescue it, and although almost red hot, dragged it with ropes to the sidewalk in front of the Swarts homestead.
Either as a gift, or by some other ar- rangement with Mr. Swarts, the bell now be- came the property of the city and was mounted on the roof of the Swarts home- stead. The inside tongue was supplemented
by an outside clapper, both of which were connected by separate ropes to the second floor beside the old call box. Here it warned the city of many notable conflagrations. During really big fires two persons went into the tower, and by striking alternate blows on both tongue and clapper set up a din which brought such crowds, that the chief was often prompted to send word to strangle the bell ringers.
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