DEATH OF CHIEF BUNKER OF CINCINNATI.

DEATH OF CHIEF BUNKER OF CINCINNATI.

The following were special telegrams to the daily papers announcing the death of Joseph Bunker, fire marshal and chief of the fire department of Cincinnati:

CINCINNATI, O., September 29.—Fire Marshal Joseph Bunker died at half-past nine o’clock this morning from the effects of injuries received while running to a fire early Sunday morning. His death was not expected, and the news was received with profound regret in all parts of the city. The morning papers announced that he was in a fair way to recover, and when his physicians called at seven o’clock they stated that his condition was favorable. One of them, returning two hours later, observed that a change for the worse had taken place, and within half an hour death came. The accident occurred shortly before daylight Sunday morning. Chief Bunker was driving east on Sixth street at terrific speed, when his buggy collided with a heavy Babcock engine which was running down Vine street. The chief was thrown violently against the engine, and then under it, one of the wheels passing over his right arm above the elbow, cutting it badly and breaking it in two places. He was conscious when picked up and retained his faculties until a few minutes before his death. He had been in the service for twenty-eight years and at the head of the department for six years. Hd was known and liked by almost everybody, and held a high place among the insurance men of the country as a firefighter. It was stated at a meeting of the fire commissioners this afternoon that there was no one in the service who could fill the dead chief’s place.

CINCINNATI, 0., September 29.—” Died at his post” were the words spoken today by hundreds of people when they learned of the death of Joseph Bunker, chief of the fire department. Bunker, during his service as chief, made it a rule to go to all fires, no matter at what hour, and when the alarm from box No. 17 sounded, at 3.30 o’clock Sunday morning, he leaped out of bed and in two minutes was on his way to the fire. At the corner of Sixth and Vine streets Bunker’s buggy, which was going east on Sixth street, and the Babcock chemical engine coming down Vine street collided, and Mr. Bunker was thrown violently against the engine. His horse could not stop, and one wheel ran over his arm. It was at first thought that the injuries were not serious, but he suffered intensely, and died this morning. In many respects the deceased was a remarkable man. He was almost a giant in physical proportions, and was as courageous a man as could be found in the department. He was born at Saratoga, N. Y., but he has lived here nearly all his life. He had been in the Cincinnati Fire Department for twenty-eight years and, on account of his never failing kindness, was almost idolized by his associates. All the engine houses and patrol stations are heavily draped, and the fire bells were tolled during the morning.

—For the first time in a long while the firemen of Long Island City had a run at night on Tuesday. A barn, occupied also as a stable, in the remote end of the upper district, in the vicinity of Steinway, took fire and was pretty well consumed before the firemen arrived. They succeeded, however, in saving some hay and in protecting an adjacent and larger farm structure, which the flames threatened to extend to. The alarm was sounded at about twelve o’clock, and some of the companies did not return to their quarters until nearly five o’clock.

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