Stories of the Guests.

Charles M. Brown Tells How He Carried His Wife from Burning Hotel.

When the regular train from Bronxville due at the Grand Central Station at 12:30 o’clock this morning arrived nearly fifteen minutes late with the first of those who had been late with the first of those who had been in the fire to reach the city, a scene ensued, the like which has not been seen in the railroad station since the great accident in the tunnel. There were about twenty-five of the guests of the hotel on the train, which had left Bronxville at 11:45, and they straggled down the long platform, in various costumes, nearly all of them lugging clothing and valuables, tied up in sheets hastily grabbed from the hotel beds.

Word of their coming had preceded the train, and there were a number of policemen about, waiting for their arrival. The appearance of the hotel guests with their bundles caused a crowd to gather, even though the hour was very late. The police had a hard time keeping the crowd back, and then the travelers gathered in a little group and waited while the police and station employees scurried about and trying to find enough cabs to accommodate the homeless ones, intent on getting either to the homes of friends or to hotels.

Among those who arrived on this train were Charles M. Brown, his wife and a trained nurse. Mrs. Brown had gone to the Gramatan to recuperate, after recovering from a severe attack of typhoid. She was still very weak and seemed to be suffering considerably on account of the excitement.

“My wife is still ill,” said Mr. Brown, “and I had to carry her out of the hotel. Our room was No. 86 on the second floor in the south wing. The fire started right under the roof of that wing and burned downward. Luckily for all of us the building was largely build of concrete, and we had plenty of time to get out, although it was impossible to save anything bulky.

“I succeeded in getting out two bags, but many of the guests who had rooms right under the roof were not even as fortunate as we were. They just grabbed what they could lay their hands on and threw them into sheets. When we took the train for the city we were fully a hundred people standing on the lawn in front of the hotel watching great piles of clothing and other things done up in sheets. The lawn looked as if covered with mounds of snow.

“Many of the guests had to leave without sufficient clothing, and some had no shoes on when we saw them last. I did not have time to put on my shoes, and carried them, putting them on in the train later. An effort was made to get more of the guests to come to the city on the train we took but they refused, preferring to watch their bundled-up effects and ride to town later on the special.

“The burning of the hotel was spectacular. It was a still, clear night and the spectacle was magnificent. As far as I could see when we left, the fire had been confined to the wing where it started. I tried to find out what had caused the fire, but couldn’t. Nobody seemed to have the slightest idea. There was a lot of trouble getting water to the fire. The lobby is 100 feet above the street level and the water pressure was very poor. I think there were about 50 guests in the hotel.”

Another guests of the hotel who came in on this regular train was George Thorne Hill, Secretary of the McCall Publishing Company. He said:

“I was dressed and downstairs in the hotel when the fire broke out. It was just about 10:53 o’clock when I heard an explosion which seemed to be right under the roof of the south wing. Immediately the fire burst out up on the third floor and gained headway with remarkable swiftness. Men and women came running downstairs in all sorts of costumes, and when I got outside there were women at half a dozen of the windows throwing out clothes and bundles of things wrapped up in sheets.

“It was evident right away that there would be no possibility of saving trunks from the upper stories, but my room was on the ground floor, and I got three men who had been hanging about he hotel to carry out my trunks.

The greatest excitement prevailed. Women were screaming everywhere, it seemed to me, and at 11:20 o’clock, when the roof of the wing fell in with a great crash, the shouting and screaming could have been heard a mile away.”

In the crowd that reached the station on the regular train was James William Patterson of 227 West Forty-Seventh Street, who wore a coat and waistcoat and a pair of trousers, but had neither shirt, collar, nor hat. He had lost all his baggage. Another guest who fared badly was the Rev. D. Meyer of London, England, who lost all his baggage and had no hat when he got away.

Others who lost more or less of their property were A.L. Slade and wife, George P. Slade, and Mrs. Jane Slade; Frank P. Colt and Charles S. Colt of 148 West Sixty-first street, and a Mrs. Bicknell.

The guests said that J.P. Lannin, proprietor of the hotel, was in the hotel at the time of the fire, having been stopping there with his wife and family.

The New York Times, New York, NY 9 Jun 1908