The headline: "Destroyed!; (Park) City practically wiped out; a raging conflagration; scene of ruin and despair." June 20, 1898.
In the wee-hours calm after a mining town payday, smoke began wisping from the old American Hotel. A Chinese laborer noticed it and sped with the news to "Policeman Walden," screaming "Fire!"
Almost by the time Sheriff Thomas Walden had fired three shots from his pistol to sound the general alarm, buildings on both sides of the hotel were ablaze. The most damaging fire to date in Utah history had begun a rampage that would end hours later with hundreds of buildings left in smoldering ruin.
The date: Sunday, June 19, 1898. The time: 4 a.m. Most of the town had settled into slumber after the usual revels of a payday Saturday. The shrill warning whistle from the Marsac Mill galvanized hundreds of volunteers, many clad only in trousers yanked over union suits, to stage a futile battle against one of the era's most feared enemies.
"Park City, Utah's proud and prosperous mining camp, has practically been wiped out of existence, being visited yesterday by the most disastrous conflagration in the history of Utah," the Deseret News reported the following day. "It may be that the city will be rebuilt and rise again from the ruins that now cover the canyon where it once stood, but it will be years before it can fully recover - if recovery is at all possible under the circumstances - from the terrible visitation. The loss, it is conservatively estimated, will aggregate more than a million dollars. The actual insurance will not reach much more than a tenth of that amount."
Insurance companies were wary of providing coverage for Park City because of the "financial stress that has recently come upon the camp," the newspaper said.
The story then listed 119 specific buildings known to have bowed before the flames, with their approximate value. As the toll mounted, at least 120 businesses and 140 residences were destroyed as the fire chewed its way down the gulch - about 75 percent of the town's buildings.
The 22 small residences of Chinatown went, and the Chinese went with them, counting the fire as an omen that meant they should leave Park City. The city's months-old Opera House was consumed and was never rebuilt. Houses, churches, barns and businesses were crisped indiscriminately. Both sides of Park Avenue were charred, and all the structures on Rossie Hill were a total loss. Irreplaceable public and private records were destroyed.
An LDS Church meetinghouse under construction fell prey to the flames, a follow-up Deseret News story said. It was a "handsome structure, not yet entirely finished, situated in the center of the city. . . . The services there were as a rule very well attended," the newspaper reported. In fact, historic accounts say, it was often suspected that many of Park City's Mormons hid their religious preference in this "most gentile" of Utah cities.
Among the businesses demolished was the recently opened Park Record newspaper building, with all new equipment. The newspaper's publishers, brothers named Raddon, pitched a tent near the blackened site, painted "Park Record" on its side, gathered news and dispatched copy to Salt Lake City for printing.
At least 500 residents were homeless, but there was no loss of human life. Many animals perished.
The four available fire hoses had pitifully little effect. In a desperate attempt to create a gap the fire couldn't cross, Lou Petit, Joe Dye and John Gibson agreed to sacrifice their homes to dynamite. They preferred the blast to the fire, they said. The dynamite explosions did, in fact, slow the blaze somewhat, but for Petit, Dye and Gibson the net result was the same.
The narrow canyon, abetted by a strong early morning wind, acted as a flue to throw firebrands here and there, spreading the fire front. It was soon evident that fire-fighters could do nothing more than salvage what was possible as the flames raged out of control.
While able men, women and children fought the fire in one quarter, it would burn their homes behind them, a later recap of the disaster said.
Help was solicited from Coal-ville, Salt Lake City and Ogden, and special trains were commissioned to rush aid to the burning city. But it was midmorning before fresh firefighters arrived, and they couldn't do much except join weary Park City contingents in watching the fire eat its fill unimpeded.
As the fire advanced down the canyon, Marsac Mill officials watched and finally gave up hope that it could be contained. At 11 a.m., the mill manager gave the order to rupture the large wooden flume that carried water to the mill from the mine on the mountain above. As the iron-girded slats of the flume were breached, water rushed down the canyon to douse flames. By noon, the fire was contained.
As in any disaster, there were stories to be told and retold.
Fred Jennings was almost knocked over by a piano that tumbled from a saloon, one report recounted. But his sense of humor was intact. He stopped fighting the fire long enough to play "There'll be a hot time in the old town tonight."
A Dr. LeCompte lost his trousers when a spark set them on fire. He tossed them into the flames and continued battling the blaze in a borrowed pair.
The exact cause of the fire was never determined. Speculation was that it started in the kitchen of the American Hotel, but proprietor Harry Freeman thought it more likely that an oil lamp had been dropped in an upstairs room or that a candle had been left unattended.
Constant watch was kept for live embers for several days until a drenching rain the following Wednesday ended the threat.
The disaster was news across the country, displacing the Spanish-American War as the top item in some newspapers. But the Deseret News gave it second priority, leaving the war on the front page and putting the fire story on an inside page.
Although Park City officials proudly stated they would not seek outside help in rebuilding, other Utah communities responded immediately with as much aid as they could offer. The Sisters of the Holy Cross cleared a Park City schoolroom to serve as a depot for contributed supplies. Food and clothing were donated. Local churches, often at odds in less stressed times, united in their relief efforts.
Prodded by Mayor John Clark, the Salt Lake Council appropriated $2,500 and would have done more "if financial affairs were in a healthier condition." Mount Pleasant chipped in $102.40. Many private citizens joined communities and charitable organizations in the effort.
Some of Park City's residents viewed the charred remains of their town, threw up their hands and quit. The majority stayed to start over again. It was not, after all, the first time Park City had burned. It happened first in 1890, but to a smaller, less susceptible town.
Rebuilding after 1898's "fiery furnace" was a foregone conclusion. But it was a new, more mature, less flamboyant Park City that rose out of the ashes, Utah historians write of the event.