THE GHASTLY WANN DISASTER

The most serious and frightful tragedy that ever darkened the pages of Madison county history—that is, the one involving the greatest loss of life and most numerous cases of personal injury—was that known as “the Wann disaster.” It occurred at the little village of Wann, on the Big Four railroad, four miles from Alton and now known as East Alton.

About nine o’clock on the morning of January 21, 1893, J. C. Bramhall, ticket agent of the Big Four at Alton, was called to the telephone and received this message from the agent at Wann: “Send doctors at once: No. 18 in open switch, burning up.” No. 18 was the fast New York and Boston express, the finest train on the road.

Hastily summoning the company’s surgeon, Dr. W. A. Haskell, a special train was at once made up and was en route to the scene of disaster within a few minutes. The rescue party at the start, was made up of Surgeon Haskell, General Agent L. T. Castle, Ticket Agent Bramhall, Baggage Master F. L. Stanton, Conductor H. E. South, Engineer Edward Dawson and some employes of the company. They were joined at East Alton by officials J. Flynn and Louis Berner. Never before did relief train fly faster over a short stretch of road. Arrived at the scene of disaster they found that No. 18 had run into a siding and collided with a string of tank cars lying there.

The cars were filled with coal oil. The engine crashed into the tank train and burst open one or more of the tank cars, releasing the oil, and simultaneously with the collision, the engine, the tank cars and the two forward cars of the passenger train were enveloped in flames, the friction of the impact or flying coals from the engine having ignited tile oil. The siding was in a cut, eight or ten feet deep. At the moment of the collision Engineer George Webb jumped off, having previously set the brakes. He jumped on the lefthand side where the track ran near the bank. He struck the bank, rolled backward into the ditch and was instantly wrapped in flame. His death was almost instantaneous. The fireman, more fortunate, jumped from the right-hand side and escaped with a few cuts and bruises. The rescue party, arrived on the scene, recovered the body of the engineer, though nothing was left but the trunk. The passengers were badly shaken up but none seriously injured.

The accident was the result of carelessness, a switchman having left the switch turned onto the siding instead of the main track. Tile remaining cars of the passenger train were uncoupled and drawn out of harm’s way, but the fire was raging so furiously about the tank train that no attempt was made to remove the cars that were ignited. And this is where the element of tragedy entered. Prior to this the accident had been but an ordinary collision, the product of negligence, but an awful calamity was impending to which the railroad accident was but the prelude.

The fire still raging along the tank train attracted a curious crowd of villagers and others to the scene. Escaping gas on fire was rushing from the manholes of the tank cars, as if in warning, but the crowd paid no heed. The relief party, after the surgeon had attended to the injured, started back to the station, a quarter of a mile distant. The agent warned the crowd to disperse fearing the other tanks would explode. It being near noon the women left to prepare the noonday meal at their homes, but the men and some boys remained.

Just after the relief party had reached the station to take tile train and were looking towards the scene of the fire, they heard a muffled explosion. A dark cloud, seemingly of smoke, rose in the air, spread out wide and wider and suddenly burst into flame, lighting up the heavens, and then descended to earth in a fiery rain of blazing oil, striking the earth with an impact louder than the explosion. The blazing blanket of oil fell squarely on the sightseers igniting everything it touched. A great wave of heat swept towards the station. The rescue party fled, momentarily, the heat wave scorching the backs of their coats. The wave passing they returned in response to tile shouts, groans and shrieks of the distant crowd enveloped in a sea of fire. A boy who had been on the outskirts came rushing to the depot shouting: “Send for all the doctors, more than a hundred people killed.” An instant later human figures, pillars of flame, came rushing by, some with all the clothing burned from their persons, black and seared by flame and looking more like demons than human beings. The surgeon, Dr. Haskell, instantly comprehending the nature of the disaster, hastily converted the station and an empty freight car into hospitals. He ordered buckets of water brought to the station into which he placed an antiseptic compound from his medicine case. He sent to all the houses round for cotton and bandages. The women responded nobly. They ripped open their comforters to obtain a supply of cotton which they took to the station with whatever else they had that they thought would give relief. Others of the local victims, who were able, rushed to the store of the Henry brothers where everything was generously placed at their disposal, where Hon. Z. B. Job took charge of the situation and seconded the efforts of physicians. The victims were found to number over a hundred. Dr. T. P. Yerkes was near the scene but escaped with slight burns and was able to help care for the injured. Some of the survivors were desperately burned; some only slightly. Those fatally burned numbered thirty-two. Some died instantly, wrapped in a shroud of flame. Others lingered in unspeakable agony for hours or days until death came to their relief. All the physicians in Alton were summoned and arrived an hour after the explosion. After applying first aid, as far as the means at hand permitted, Dr. Haskell commandered a train to take the living victims to St. Joseph’s hospital in Alton. When that ghastly train with its freight of suffering humanity arrived at the foot of Walnut street, the nearest point to the hospital, it was met by carriages and ambulances, and the victims were lifted or helped from the cars. It was a heart-rending sight; men with shreds of clothing clinging to them in blackened rags, their bodies seared and scarred, and, in some cases, the cooked flesh dropping from their bones. They were taken to the hospital where hasty preparations had been made for their reception, and there a corps of physicians, under Dr. Haskell’s direction and the care of the Sisters and trained nurses of the hospital, labored through weary hours to mitigate the horrors of the situation and alleviate as far as possible the suffering of the wounded. Four of the victims died at the hospital that night; others followed them later.

The burning oil that descended covered something like an acre. This area presented the aspect of a great battlefield that had been swept by fire. The trees about were blackened by flame and denuded of the smaller branches. The ground was covered with debris; shoes, hats, socks and remnants of clothing, to all of which pieces of flesh adhered.

Some of the less dangerously injured had been removed to their homes and were attended there. The whole village was wrapped in gloom. The calamity was so sudden and overpowering that the people were stunned by the shock. Not all the victims were residents of the village; some were residents of Alton who had driven out to see the railroad wreck; still others were employes of the railroad and sonic lived in the country adjacent. Several of the railroad men had crawled under the cars at the moment of the explosion and thus escaped the descending sheet of burning oil. But after those who were able had fled twenty-three lay on the field, dead or dying.

Taken in all its aspects the disaster was one of unmitigated horror. Of the victims who recovered all of the seriously injured were disfigured for life. Some are still seen about the village with maimed bodies, with faces and hands seamed and scarred.

The railroad company awarded damages to its employes who were injured but fought compensation to the others on the ground that they were trespassers on the company’s property. The physicians and the hospital had to sue the company for their services, but the courts decided in favor of the plaintiffs. The hospital’s bill was resisted on the plea that Dr. Haskell’s action in sending the patients to the institution was unauthorized; that he should first have procured an order of admission from the township supervisor; but the appellate court ruled that the Doctor’s action was fully justified by the dire emergency; that even if the supervisor had been standing at his side lie would not have been warranted in delaying for a moment to ask for authority. The emergency was there and had to be met instantly in the interest of suffering humanity. Such appalling circumstances swept precedent aside.

Dr. Haskell was the hero of the occasion. A born leader, cool and collected where others were wild with excitement. All looked to him for aid and direction. His wonderful record of efficiency on that day of disaster, is a proud page in Madison county’s annals. There were many instances of unselfish heroism among the victims. A case in point is that of Charles W. Harris, of Alton. He was among the first of the injured to reach the station, but refused to be treated until those more seriously burned than himself had received attention.

Centennial history of Madison County, Illinois, and its people, 1812 to 1912, 1914, pages 153-155