William H. Musham

Chicago fire chief Bill Musham's objectives were under attack before the 1903 Iroquois Theater fire; afterward his administrative skills were condemned in newspapers and in the courtroom.  He was eventually eliminated from prosecution but not before a reputation built over forty years was irrevocably damaged.  One of his subordinates, John Campion, should have born a larger share of whatever blame belonged to the fire department, but Musham accepted the burden stoically.  His description of the scene at the Iroquois included more information about engine companies than was offered later or by others.

BY FIRE CHIEF MUSHAM, Who was one of the first to reach the scene of the fire and panic.

There is nothing superstitious about me, but when that bell struck five times, meaning a "still" alarm, and I was told by the operator that it was from the Iroquois Theater, I felt that there was going to be a coup. Assistant Chief Champion and I jumped out of our wagons in front of the Iroquois at about the same moment. As I rushed past Dearborn street in my buggy I saw Marshal Hannon, chief of the first battalion, leading the men of Engine Company No. 13 and Truck No. 6 into the rear of the building. They had gone on the "still," as also did Insurance Patrol No. 1.

Men, women and children were rushing out of the entrance of the playhouse as I ran in. Close behind me were the men from patrol No. 1, carrying tarpaulins and fire extinguishers. The jam of people coming out was so great that the firemen were unable to force their way in. I shouted to someone to pull the box at the corner. This soon brought several more companies of firemen and, instead of trying to force our way into the building, which would have been useless against the surging, frenzied mob, we assisted the panic-stricken away from the theater. Scores of people fell down in the lobby and would have been trampled to death if the firemen and police had not been there to drag them out.

It took two or three minutes to empty the doors, but it seemed many hours before the last person was out. Smoke was rolling over the heads of the fighting, pushing, screaming crowd that poured into the lobby, and in a case like that, self-preservation is the first law of nature.

I saw noble exceptions to that rule, however, and more than one man, woman and child, too, for that matter, proved themselves heroes and heroines. One man, a frail figure, of a fellow carried an old woman out in his arms until the firemen relieved him of his burden in the lobby.

Several companies of firemen got into the building through the front way after the downstairs were emptied, but by this time the flames were attacking the boxes. I ran in and saw the whole stage ablaze. Hundreds of people were in the two balconies, screaming for help. Running out to a fire box at the corner, just a few yards from the theater, I sent in a '4-11 alarm.  This was at 3:41, exactly eight minutes after the “still.”

On my return to the theater, I met a mob of people rushing down from the balcony. They were filling up the stairs and being trampled upon. Before this hundreds must have met death in their maddened efforts to escape.

Up the stairs went police and firemen to the rescue. They succeeded in saving many lives. Many of those who were crushed and trampled upon were carried out bleeding from their injuries.  (The Pittsburgh Press, Dec 31, 1903)

BOLD FIRE FIGHTER.
William H. Musham, New Chief of Chicago Department.

Has Been in Hundreds of Tight Places, But Never Had a Bone Broken—Joined Force at the Age of Sixteen.

William H. Musham, the veteran fire fighter of more than 40 years, is Chicago’s new chief of the fire department. Mayor Harrison appointed him D. J. Swenie’s successor June 24, and the council speedily ratified the selection. The bond of $25,000 was accepted, and First Assistant Marshal Musham became “fire marshal and chief of brigade” immediately.

Simultaneously the resignation of Chief Swenie was read, his half a century of service acknowledged and the thanks of the city of Chicago tendered officially by the mayor as the representative of the people. That was Chief Swenie’s formal “good-by” and the beginning of Chief Musham’s rule.

William Henry Musham was born of Scotch-Irish parents in Chicago, February 7, 1839, and is a carpenter by trade. At the age of 16 he became a volunteer fireman, and ran to the fires with D. J. Swenie and others, many of whom are prominent in professional and commercial circles today. He worked at the great Lake street fire of 1857, where seven firemen and 16 citizens perished and Swenie recovered the bodies.

In 1861 he joined the paid fire department organized by Swenie in 1858. He became a member of No. 6, “The Little Giant,” named after Stephen A. Douglas. The company’s house was at Washington and Dearborn streets. After a time on the Atlantic company at State and Michigan streets he returned to No. 6. He went to Philadelphia and ran with the “Fairmount,” but, like “Sandy” Shay and others, he soon returned and joined the T. B. Brown company, which was named for the president of the board of police and fire commissioners. In 1868 he became assistant foreman. Subsequently he was captain of No. 6, which moved to Maxwell and Canal streets. His company was the first to begin fighting the great fire of 1871. R. A. Williams was then chief, John Schnur first, Lorenz Walters second, and Matt Benner third assistant marshal, and the city had but 17 engines, three of which were out of service.

March 1, 1872, Musham was made third assistant marshal for his bravery during the great fire. In 1879, when Swenie was made chief, he was appointed first assistant.

Although the hero of countless close calls, Musham has never had a bone broken. From a height of 240 feet he fought the fire in the Manufactures building at the world’s fair, was in the basement of the Edelweiss cafe, where “Big Tom,” of truck No. 6, was stripped naked by the explosion. Musham’s most brilliant bit of fire fighting was at the Manufactures building at the world’s fair, and it was widely heralded at the time. But Musham generously gave the praise to Battalion Chief Kenyon, Capts. Foley, of No. 5; Lucy, of No. 79; Crapo, of No. 45; McKiernan, of No. 51, and Palmer, of truck No. 20.

At a fire in a commission house on South Water street in June, 1865, Musham stood between two firemen when they were killed instantly by falling debris. He was swept into the river by a strong wind at the S. K. Martin lumber yard fire in 1894, when Lieut. McGinn, of the fireboat, was blown on live coals and burned to death.

August 5, 1897, he was severely injured at the fire and explosion in the Northwestern elevator. Six were killed there—Tommy Monohan, Swenie’s driver; Coogan, Schnur and Strumen, of No. 3, Conway, of No. 7, and Hanley, of No. 5. Fifty men were injured. Musham saved 30 lives by moving two fireboats in time to prevent them from being destroyed.

John Campion, who will succeed Musham as first assistant marshal, was born in Kilkenny in 1849, and came to Chicago in 1854. He joined the fire department April 1, 1870, threw first water on the big fire in 1871, was made a captain in 1873, commanded engines No. 2, 6, 17 and 1, was made a battalion chief in 1882, and third assistant marshal May 14, 1895. He has had many close calls, but was never seriously hurt.

He was an ardent supporter of Musham in the recent contest for Swenie’s place.  (Pike County Dispatch (Milford, Pennsylvania) Thu, Oct 31, 1901)