Fire in the Big House. Mitchel P. Roth
prison officials, and guards recounted their actions in separate testimony Other black convicts mentioned included one named Tucker, who carried the bodies of six men before he died, and Henry Caldwell, a lifer, who almost paid with his life saving inmates.
Among the most celebrated actors on Easter Monday was the warden’s daughter, Amanda, who has been credited in most contemporary accounts with giving the alarm that “brought every piece of fire apparatus in Columbus, every available policeman, a company of the National Guard and 600 soldiers, and every doctor and nurse from miles away.”77 One reporter described how she “worked frantically at a telephone hook and talked herself hoarse to a mechanic on the other end in an effort to get power turned on” from a different power station.78 Some accounts had Amanda Thomas ordering guards to their posts while she “issued guns and ammunition, called doctors and nurses, summoned troops and performed many other duties.”79 Another described her as “one of the outstanding figures in maintaining peace and order among the convicts during the disaster.” The account boasted that “throughout the fire and panic” she worked “untiring, helping her father place guards, directing the activities of physicians and nurses and broadcasting appeals for assistance.”80 The warden’s daughter, for all of her spunk and courage, relinquished much of her gravitas when it was revealed that as the fire approached her family’s residence in the penitentiary main building, she turned her attention from the unfolding prison holocaust to “ordering her valuables removed” from the house.81
In reality, Amanda Thomas was one of many women who pitched in Easter Monday. Elizabeth Sampson, director of the Physicians and Surgeons Bureau, “played an important part in the rescue work,” calling all the area physicians to the prison after she was contacted to do so by Warden Thomas. For the time, the exchange represented a big stride toward more effective emergency response communications. Each doctor in the area called the exchange hourly and it was only through Sampson that the doctors could be quickly contacted. She was assisted by several young women in contacting doctors at their last reported locations.82
Caught up in the excitement of the moment, newspaper reporters went out of their way to create heroes in order to capture the fancy of readers in a newspaper-saturated era. Like those of the African American inmates chronicled in the Defender, Ms. Thomas’s contributions were likely embroidered for public consumption. While initial reports cast her as a central figure, she was barely mentioned in the 722-page Board of Inquiry report. Indeed, early reports suggested that the “women members of the Thomas family [were] all panic stricken standing near the door to their home to watch guards and volunteers remove valuables from the warden’s residence,” fearing it was in the path of the fire.83
Monday night the warden’s wife collapsed, but she was revived and placed under the care of a physician at 7:15. An African American newspaper correctly reported that a “Race” convict had come to her aid, supporting her on his arm and giving her a drink of water to revive her. However, his “race” was not reported in the local newspapers at the time. After some rest and the application of restoratives she declared herself fit to render aid.84
With darkness approaching on Easter Monday, it was obvious that more lighting would be required inside the prison walls. Floodlights were set up above the prison by the Superior Electric Company, allowing workers to more effectively administer first aid. Soon a large number of smaller lights, removed from the swimming pool at Olentangy Park, were brought to the pen.85 By sundown soldiers had delivered a boxload of new flashlights as well. Meanwhile, electricians were feverishly attempting to hook up a power line so that wall lights and inside lights could be used.86
One story that continued to gain traction as it was passed around through the prison grapevine was that a guard had refused to let a convict out of his cell and a black inmate had tried to liberate him with the help of a chisel. In one version of the events, the guard supposedly shot both prisoners and ran away. Another account had a Cincinnati convict named Albert Johnson crying as he showed a reporter his hand, saying, “Mister, we pleaded and pleaded with that guard to let us out but he wouldn’t…. He only said get back there you black ——— and forced us away from the door. Then he ran out and left us to die.”87
The story was given significant attention by the African American press. An article in the Chicago Defender entitled “Guard Slays Two,” based on the recollections of several survivors, reported that “two Race prisoners were killed by a guard when they attempted to escape from their cell.” The paper preferred the sobriquet “Race prisoner” over other identifiers used by mainstream press.
The most graphic account of the shooting was provided by the Ohio State Journal, reported by a white lifer who refused to give his name.
That guard was the worst coward I ever saw. I feel sorry for him if he ever shows his face inside the prison again. It wasn’t so bad when he just refused to open the gates, but then I and another convict, who had been freed by Guard Little, went to the coward and begged him to open the doors, and again he refused. My partner had a heavy chisel and he offered to the 2 boys locked in the cell. The guard tried to take it away from the men, but they refused and went to work on the lock fighting to get out. The guard said, ‘Give me that chisel or I’ll shoot you’ at the same time cursing loudly. They refused and he fired twice. We saw both men fall and the guard run from the tier, taking the keys with him … we heard he had been placed under arrest by the warden.
Prison officials denied these charges but refused to report where the guard was.
One of the rare accounts of an inmate killed by gunshot wounds came from Sonny Hanovich, who claimed, more than a half century later, to have seen one body with a bullet hole in the back, and to have heard of another shot in his cell. Perhaps he was referring to the aforementioned account, but this incident is all but missing from every modern chronicle of the fatal fire and has never been satisfactorily substantiated.
Although there were several accounts of bullet wounds and shootings of inmates, no bullet wounds were ever authenticated. But the story gained credence the more times it was told. Tell a story enough times and it becomes fact. Although the shooting was quickly “corroborated by a group of twenty or more men,” officials continued to deny it, saying there was nothing to it. To the credit of the officials, in order to put the rumors to rest, a careful check for bullet wounds was made of every corpse at the temporary morgue, as well as all bodies being taken away for burial.
Several inmates and guards later reported hearing gunshots right before the inferno moved into G&H. During the investigation in the days after the fire, it was revealed that day guard Harold Whetstone, on watch above the warden’s residence (his perch consisted of a little walkway about fourteen or fifteen feet long that ran along the Spring Street wall), had heard several gunshots being fired over in the yard north of the chapel at about 5:40. Looking in the direction of the shots, he saw another guard named Porter around five hundred feet away, firing shots into the air. He deduced correctly that it was an attempt to grab his attention. Whetstone responded in kind, firing his 30-30 into the air. Porter, a day guard at the wagon stockade that ran through the cellblock, yelled back, “Turn in the fire alarm.” Whetstone pointed to the guardroom and hollered back, “I did.” In fact, he had done so three times before a shot had been fired.88
The night of the fire witnessed the actions of remarkable heroes, while others in the days to come would be given credit for actions they could not have taken. One inmate, “Wild” Bill Croninger, was credited with having saved twelve men before collapsing and dying. As some told it, he went into the dense smoke repeatedly until he could not go any further. Injured and overcome by smoke, he sank down, said, “I’ve done my part,” and took his last breath. It made for