Memorial Services at Aeolian Hall

Memorial Services at Aeolian Hall


Following the usual beautiful custom, at 8.30 o’clock p. m., the members of the association, ladies and friends gathered in Aeolian Hall, Forty-third street, Tuesday evening, to pay a last tribute to those members who had passed away since the convention of a year before, for which occasion the local committee had provided the following program: Organ prelude, selected, Dion W. Kennedy; opening prayer, Rev. Joseph P. Dineen; duet, selected, Mrs. Robert H. Mainzer and Mrs. Charlotte Eldridge; address, Chief A. V. Bennett; solo, selected, Mrs. Robert H. Mainzer; oration, Dr. J. C. Coyle; quartet, “Nearer My God to Thee,” by Miss Marie Stoddart, Miss Rose Bryant, Albert Quesnel, Cllfford Cairns; organ postlude, “Dead March from Saul,” Dion W. Kennedy.


We, your Committee on Memorial Resolutions, find it our sad duty to report that 10 members of the association have passed away since we gathered in annual meeting at Denver last year. We also, with deep regret, learn that many brave firemen connected with various departments throughout the world have answered their last call in hero c effort to save the lives and property of others. Your committee knew’ each and every one of the deceased brother members. Tried and found true, brave but gentle, faithful in all things, each left a name that will long be revered in the community that knew him best. And now permit your committee to recommend the adoption of the following resolution:

BE IT RESOLVED, That by the decease of these honorable, loyal and useful members, this association has suffered in each instance a distinct loss; and for each of those who have preceded us to “that bourne whence none rcturneth,” we deeply and sincerely mourn; that we tender our heartfelt sympathy to the family of each of the departed in their great affliction; that these resolutions, with the appended memorial sketches, be published in the report of the proceedings of this convention, and a copy of sa d report mailed to the widow or other surviving members of the family of each of the deceased members.

Respectfully submitted. COMMITTEE.

THOMAS K. HARDING, chief of the fire department and fire marshal of Bav City, Mich., passed away September 20. 1912. Chief Harding had been connected with the Ray City fire department since 1866, and chief engineer since February, 1883. Born March 31, 1847, at St. Catherines, Canada, he carried through life an aim at great things, and was able to achieve much for his adopted city. As far back as 1885 he began an effort to provide a firemen’s benevolent association fund, and was ever at the head of any movement for bettering the condition of the fire fighting service and those engaged therein. Chief Harding died following an operation. In 1876 Chief Harding married Miss Margaret A. Roache, of Petersboro, Canada, and six children blessed this union, five of whom survive.

FREDERICK BRODBECK, chief of the Salina, Kan., fire department, died October 4, 1912, after an illness of about five days, brought on by a broken leg. Mr. Brodbeck was born May 4, 1875, in Rome, Ill., later removing to Peoria. He served for eight years with the Peoria fire department. five years with the National Biscuit Company, a” ’ two years with the Western Electric Company, of Chicago, as fire marshal, resigning the latter position to accept the position of chief of the Salina department. He served in the last-named position for nearly four years before suffering the accident which resulted in his death. He was a faithful and able fire chief, and did much to put the department in his adopted city on the excellent basis it now enjoys. Mr. Brodbeck married Miss Minnie Tracy, of Peoria, Ill., who, with three children, survives him.

GEORGE W. ANDERSON, chief of the St. Petersburg, Fla., fire department, and probably the oldest chief in active service, passed away October 12, 1912. Mr. Anderson was born at Lima, O., June 30, 1837, where he grew into manhood. While yet a young man he was fired by the spirit of the great and then unknown West, and joined Kit Carson in the employ of the American F’ur Company, and later enl sted in the frontier service of the United States Government. When the civil war began Mr. Anderson was with his company on the trail of hostile Indians. Catching up with the Indians, a fierce fight ensued, and in a hand-to-hand encounter Mr. Anderson was thrown from his horse. In the fall a pine snag ran through his knee, which caused him much pain all through his life and brought on complications which resulted in his death. Mr. Anderson moved to Victoria. Tex., in 1883, where he organized a volunteer fire department. serving as chief until 1886, when his health failed. Moving to Disston. Fla., in 1886, he organized at St. Petersburg a volunteer fire department and acted as chief of the then volunteer. and afterward paid, fire departments to the time of his death. Mr. Anderson married Miss Martha Wilson on August 15, 1886, who survives him.


Thomas K. Harding, Chief, Bay City, Mich. Frederick Brodbeck, Chief, Salina, Kans. George W. Anderson, Ex-chief, St. Petersburg, Fla.

Eli Bates, Ex-chief, New York City. Richard Hanlon, Asso. Member, St. Louis, Mo.

John O. Glanville, Salvage Corps, St. Louis, Mo.

Hugh Durkin, Chief, Stratford, Ont. James J. Wood, Chief, Paducah, Ky. Thomas N. Burke, Asso. Member, Chicago, Ill.,

Hyam G. Fulford, Chief, Key West, Fla.

ELI BATES, ex-chief of the New York City fire department and an honorary life member of this association, died at his residence in Jersey City, November 8. 1912. Mr. Bates was born in Orange County. N. Y„ September 25, 1825. He went to New York City when 11 years of age and learned the trade of a mason and builder. When 15 years of age he joined a volunteer fire company as “runner,” and became a regular member thereof April 26, 1846. His first company was the Guardian Eng ne Company, No. 29, stationed in West Tenth (then Amos) street. He was made foreman of that company when the paid fire department was organized in 1865. Tn 1869 he was placed in command of the fourth battalion with the title of battalion chief. Tn 1871 he was made assistant chief, and ⅛ 1873 chief, in which position he served until 1884. when he w’as retired on a pension. The New York Sentinel of January 3. 1880, had this to say of Chief Bates: “He is eminently fitted for the position he occupies. Wherever two or three engines are collected for work, there Chief Bates will be found. He responds day and night to all alarms for fires occurring below Twenty-third street. He is always cool and collected, and never, even in the midst of an extensive conflagration. when excitement runs high all about him, loses his supreme presence of nrnd, or appears at all flurried.” Tn 1847 Mr. Bates married Miss Maria Girvan, who died in 1897. Mr. Bates is survived by a son. George C. Bates, and three daughters.

RICHARD HANLON, ex-nolice commissioner of St. Louis and treasurer of the Robinson Fire Apparatus Company, an associate member of this association, died on November 19. 1912. Mr. Hanlon was horn in Canton, O.. but moved to St. Louis 35 years ago. He conducted the Richard Hanlon Millinery Company until 1906. when he became connected with the Robinson Fire Apparatus Company. Mr. Hanlon took an active interest in politics, and was appointed a member of the board of police commissioners. He is survived by his widow, Mrs. Sarah A. Doyle Hanlon, and their children.

JOHN O. GLANVILLE, ex-superintendent of salvage corps, St. Louis, Mo., and an honorary life member of this association, passed away in St. Louis, December 12. 1912. Mr. Glanville was born 45 years ago in Franklin County, Mo., and was reared on a farm. While a young man he went to St. Louis and obtained employment as a canvass man on the salvage corps. His r se in the department was rapid, and within five years he became captain of No. 2 Salvage Corps. While serving as lieutenant of No. 3 Company he responded to a fire, and when the building collapsed he was buried under the debris. Although stunned at first by the crash, he soon regained consciousness and directed his rescue, calling out to his comrades where he was and how to find him; and. after about nine hours, he was gotten out. Later on he became chief of the salvage corps, resigning about three years ago. He then entered the automobile business, and afterwards the fire insurance business. Mr. Glanville is survived by his widow and three small children.

HUGH DURKIN, chief of the Stratford, Ontaro, fire department, met death in the discharge of his duty some time between midnight and dawn on May 13, 1913. During the progress of a light electrical storm about midnight the one sharp flash struck the high steeple of Knox Presbyterian Church and set it on fire. The fire department immediately responded, but. being without a water tower, the firemen were almost powerless, as the streams from the hose would not reach the fire. Wh’le Chief Durkin was directing his men to get up on the roof of the church so as to throw water on the fire in the steeple the huge burning belfry crashed from a height of 160 feet and caught Chief Durkin. Police Chief McCarthy and Night Constable Hamilton, instantly killing McCarthy and Hamilton and injuring Durkin so badly that he died on the way to the hospital. Mr. Durkin was unmarried.

JAMES J. WOOD, chief of the Paducah. Ky., fire department, passed awav on August 5, 1913. at the age of 50 years. He was born in Massac County, Ill., April 29, 1863. and his father removed to Paducah in 1866. As a youth he joined the volunteer fire department and it grew up with him. He had a part in getting the first fire engine, and, with the exception of 1896-7, was chief of the paid fire department from the day of its organization until he died. With his whole heart iti the work, he never lost an opportunity to improve the service at every point, and the present excellent department is a monument to his ab lity. Mr. Wood’s death was the result of a severe attack of Bright’s disease which he suffered during the winter of 1911-12. Mr. Wood’s nearest relatives are two nieces.

HYAM G. FULFORD, chief of the Key West, Fla., fire department, came to his death Jan. 17, 1913. his horse running away and coming into collision with a herd of cows. Mr. Fulford was born in the Bahama Islands on Nov. 16, 1849. He went to Key West when only one year of age and resided there until the time of his death, with the exception of two or three years spent in Galveston. Tex. For many years he was one of the leading merchants of Key West, and while engaged in the mercantile business became connected with the volunteer fire department. His intense enthusiasm in fire matters and loyalty to the department caused him to discontinue his mercantile business some 20 years prior to his death and all of his time was given to the department at Key West, which stands as an eloquent monument to his earnestness and abilitv. He served Key West as Street Commissioner for some years. On Aug. 18. 1913, the unveiling of a handsome monument erected by the fire department to the memory of the late chief took place. There was a great outpouring of the people of the city of Key West, attesting the love and esteem in which the grand old fire fighter was held. Mr. Fulford left a widow, five daughters and two sons.

Memorial Address by A. V. Bennett, Chief of Fire Department, Birmingham, Ala.

MR. PRESIDENT, LADIES AND Gentlemen—Following our usual custom, we are again assembled for the purpose of commemorating that portion of our membership who, since our last meeting, have passed into “that bourne from which none returns.” Alexander McLaren says, “The dead and the living arc not names of two classes which exclude each other. Much rather there are none who are dead. The dead are simply the l.ving who have died. While they were dying they lived, and after they were dead they lived more fully. All live unto God. God is not the God of the dead, but oi the living. Oh, how solemnly the thought sometimes comes up before us that all those past generations which have stormed across this earth of ours and then fallen into still forgetfulness live yet. Somewhere at this very instant they now are. We say, they were, they have been; there are no havebeens, they are.” To-night we lay aside our daily cares and the duties of our calling; we hide under the veil of forgetfulness the sorrows of our lives and stand in the hallowed atmosphere of blessed memories. What an occasion is this! It is grand enough to inspire a Shakespeare. It is sublime enough to oring forth the melodies of a Beethoven. It is vast enough to produce the pictures of a Leo Nardo. But, even better than this, it can inspire the soul of even the humblest to be true to God and the world in w’hich he lives. Though this is an age of commercialism, romance and sentiment are not dead. Though in our daily lives we rush and struggle, and often deal without mercy, there is still enough of the divine in most of us to be moved by some mighty sentiment or emotion. Since primeval days man has been inspired by examples of heroism and self-sacrifice, and has been moved to goodness by the beauty of lives well lived; and, though to-day we are largely prompted by the lure of gold and avaricious sentiments, our hearts still retain the universal and age-old emotions. Get away as far as we can from the primitive, we are still men, and our hearts are yet kindled by Homeric tales of great achievement. He would be a man indeed “fit for stratagems and spoils” who, standing on this platform, would not be moved. Calloused w’ould be his heart who, at this moment, would not feel nearer to eternity. This is not an occasion for mere words; it is not a time for mere rounded periods; it is an hour of memory, of concentration to duty.

“Duty,” said Robert E. Lee, “is the most sublime word in the English language,” and to-day more than ever is this truth impressed on the hearts of manklnd. But what is duty? Is it to fight in battle? Is it to brave the tempests of the sea? Is it to defy the terrors of the desert? Is it to perform some heroic deed that will thrill the heart of the world? It may be, and it may not be, for conceptions of duty change with the spirit of the time.

In olden days, when the world was young, the highest duty a man could perform was to live for himself. There was no family life; it was “I” for “I,” and “you” for “you,” live or die as best you may. Then, with the development of the human mind, came tribal life, in which the savage in the performance of his duty respected the rights of the members of his own clan, but felt perfectly free to murder and rob any man of another tribe. Then, with enlightenment and civilization, came the national spirit, and to-day the world stands at the dawn of an age when man shall be imbued with the universal spirit of right is right, and wrong is wrong, regardless of country, nation, religion, race or creed. With these narrow and prejudiced principles as ideals, it was no wonder that the greatest glories of past nations should have been regarded as having been won in their wars. In ancient times the fighters of Sparta, and the legends of Imperial Rome, were the incarnation of duty. In the Middle Ages the plumed knight, riding on his proud steed, fighting in the tournament for his lady love, was the ideal of duty; and even to the time of Napoleon the world was drunk with its military conceptions and ideals. In those times, according to their princ pies, these men who fought and died on bloody battlefields; these men whose life-blood ebbed on the bare coast of Africa and in the interior of the Orient; these men whose tread resounded in the Alps; these men who fought in the Holy Land, all were heroes, and

died doing their full duty. But the world has changed. We are realising more and more the horrible tragedy of war. We are becoming more and more merciful in our ideals of glory. Today it is not the man who can kill who is the hero; it is the man who can save; it is the dilferencc lietween the Dark Ages and the Twentieth Century. The future h.storian will not extol the virtues of the man who will wage war against man, but of the man who will wage war against the enemies of common humanity. Because to-day there are no more continents to be discovered; because to-day there is no Holy Land to conquer, is no reason for discouragement. Here in our very midst, in the very heart of civilization, are battles to be fought that should be grander and more glorious than those of Caisar and Napoleon. Humanity is organizing her fotces to wage a death battle with crime and corruption, with disease and pestilence, with the great destroyers that are devastating the wealth and the happiness of our people. We are fighting for the souls of men; we are struggling for equal opportunity; we are striving to make life better, healthier and happier. This is the battle to-day, and, as Longfellow beautifully says:

Life is real, Life is earnest,

And the grave is not its goal;

Dust thou art, to dust returneth.

Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

Is our destined end or way.

But to act that each to-morrow

Finds us further than to-day.

In the world’s broad field of battle,

In the bivouac of life,

Be not like dumb, driven cattle,

Be a hero in the strife.

The greatest enemies of mankind to-day are not those that come in time of war, but rather those that come in time of peace, Fire is one of the greatest destroyers of our civilization. Its greedy tongue licks our palaces of art, our public buildings, our manufacturing establishments and our homes, and the fireman faces dangers in the discharge of his duty as great as any soldier in battle, and often pays w’ith his life. When he dies there are no great demonstrations, the course of the city’s life continues in its usual way, but he has inscribed his name on the honor roll in giving his all for the common good. Many of us who are here to-night turn back the pages of memory and kindly counsel of many of our former members. Since we last met in convention 10 of our members have responded to the last call and their bodies lie beneath the sod until eternity. Though our hearts are bowed dowm with sorrow, we still can rejoice at the heritage they have left behind. Their memories will be ever cherished; their deeds will ever be an incentive to future generations of our profession. But are they really dead? Ah, no; their bodies are no more, but they live on in deeds. Alexander the Great, after his victorious campaign against the Persians, assembled his troops for a great feast. Approaching one of his aids, he asked, “Are all here?” “Yes, my lord,” was the reply, “all arc here save those who fell in battle.” “Then all are here,” replied Alexander, “for the dead are here, too.” This thought is beautifully expressed by Dana, who says:

Oh listen, man !

A voice within us speaks the startling word, Man, thou shalt never die; Celestian voices Hymn it around our souls; according harps By angels’ fingers touched, when the mild stars Of morning sang together, sound forth still The song of our great immortality.

A rose blooms in the springtime by some garden wall, exhales its fragrance, and w’hen the chill days of winter come, dies; but it reappears in the form of another rose when the springtime comes again. So it is with our lives; w»e die, but the name we leave behind us gives us new’ birth in the form of deeds done by men inspired by our memories. But all of us cannot be like the garden rose. Some are wild flowers blooming by the wayside, but not in vain; for who shall say that the fragrance of some wild violet, hiding ’neath the rock in the deep forest, is wasted? Though it may never delight the throngs of men it is possible that it has made

happier some lowly wanderer or has set some wild bird to warbling a song of praise. Therefore, because our lives may be one of obscurity, we should not imagine that our efforts are in vain. Though no marble shaft rise to commemorate our names, though no stirring song records our deeds, the memory of a brave man will never die. It will be as a mountain peak of sacrifice which every lire lighter will strive to ascend if the occasion demands. It will ever be a solemn and sacred call to duty, heeded at the very cost of life itself. For they are men who died not for fame, nor power, nor gold, but for the good of their fellow men.

They have no place in storied page,

No rest in marble shrine;

They are past and gone with a buried age,

Thy died and made no sign.

But work, that shall find its wages yet,

And deeds their God will not forget

Done for the love Divine.

These were their mourners, and these shall be The crowns of their immortality.

President Magee—I now have the pleasure of introducing the orator of the evening, Dr, J. C. Coyle.

Memorial Oration by Dr. J. C. Cole, of New York City

MR. PRESIDENT, REVEREND FATHER, MEMBERS OK THE ASSOCIATION, LADIES AND GENTLEMENIt is a fine and fitting act, eloquent of the brotherhood and the Christian spirit that animates the International Association of Fire Engineers that in a week more filled with the thought of holiday, devoted to assemblages for social and for joyous purposes, this association should set apart a night for solemn commemoration of the dead. Thrilled as we yet are by the magnetic and beautiful spirit of the prayer offered by the sweet singer a moment ago, we cannot better realize that linked with all our lives are the memories of those who have passed away. No picture of the artist, no magnificent sculpture of the master of the chisel, no superb rhetoric of the poet, no imagery of the master ofprose is required to back to the mind the form, the feature, the spirit, the handclasp—all that went to make up the life and personality of one single fellow that one has loved. Memory, the magic tie that pierces darkness and oblivion, brings back and throws upon imagination’s screen a picture showing all that 1 fe once held; and love, a master fiber of the soul, brings back to the heart grief for those who have been bound to us in life. Among all the sentiments that have stirred mankind, all the exalted emotions that have lifted the soul above the commonplace, there has been, from the stage of savagery, when the mystery of death was but dimly comprehended, to the civilization of the intellectuals of the twentieth century the certain reminder of that grave darkness and mysterious passing of that which we call life. And from the lowest savage, whose god is of his own fashioning, up through various stages of semi-civilization, man feels that death is the surpassing mystery in his existence. Believing, as even they have done, in a future existence, they have placed within the grave of the departed the trappings of the horse and the weapons of the man, his jewelry or the tilings he loved in life, and they have even placed food and drink to warm and sustain him on that journey of whose end they had no knowledge. Since this always has been and is to those not gifted with a belief in the Supreme Being and hereafter of Revelation the one great, nnsolvable mystery of the ages, what great consolation, what superb picture of the future is that belief of the Christian who sees in death the entrance to and beginning of a larger and eternal life. He calls up in memory the record of the dead for the purpose of comforting his soul and the souls of the relatives of the departed; for the purpose of refreshing memory with the past and drawing from that long record inspiration for the future. To-night we have witnessed the usuat transformation of day into night. The great orb slowly set in the west, and at its departure sent out its red streaming rays as if in last farewell to the earth it was leaving. Then came the gray twilight and then darkness, and just as that darkness was enveloping the earth suddenly in the far-off blackness there came a glimmer, and another, and yet another burst through the azure sky until the startling glow revealed from the myriad indicated to mankind that though another day was dead, the Eternal Keeper was on guard. Thus passes man from the stage of mundane existence. But as he passes away and is received by another earth, there comes to the Christian heart the consolation of the certainty of a hereafter, a rejoining in the future of those now parted by the stern decree of unforgettable mortality. When we meet to memorialize the dead their position is in some respects un qtie. The capitals of the world, cities, towns and villages, all tell in solid shaft of bronze or stone the same story of the progress of the nation, the history of the people. And if one shall travel throughout these cities and towns he will find that the greatest shaft, the most eloquent sculpture, is the shaft or sculpture that tells of the soldier dead or the victory of war. Barely does one find a great humanitarian, a great g ver of knowledge, a great poet, a great preacher who has brought light to hundreds of thousands remembered by a shaft or sculpture, or if so remembered that such shaft or sculpture is first in the estimation of the people of the city or town. Strife, the instinct of conquest, lust of adventure, the bitter conflict between mankind for empire or for love, these have appealed to the imag nation of the artist, of the poet, of the sculptor, of the rhetorician, yea, even of the demagogue. While these tell of the inevitable strife of man, his rivalries, his ambitions, his hopes and his defeats, they seldom tell the story of plain duty. And yet in the life of the great founder of the Christian religion the first public example in that life is the example of duty. When at the age of 12 He was found by His anxious mother in the temple, and she did not comprehend what He meant when He said He must he about His Father’s business, He went down w th them, says the Scripture, and was subject to them. He was subject to them. This Master of the Universe thus exemplified by His first public act the importance of duty. In this life that the members of this association typify to the public mind there is the lesson of duty; not the duty of the chosen hour, not the duty of rite period, not the duty of the gladiator, but the duty that calls at any hour, at any minute, at any place, summoning men from home or ease or comfort to danger, to desperate risk and perhaps death. And so it is that manly men all over the world whose lives are bound together by common dangers learn to esteem each other at their true value as men and brothers. When the soldier dies over his grave his comrades fire a volley—the last act, the empty shot that tvpifies how the soldier might have died, and the ideal death for a sold’er. Similarly other associations have provided various ways of expressing the thought that lay in the minds of the majority with regard to the ceremony of death. So, too, we find firemen assembled about the corpse and grave, with the implements of the fireman’s work and the fireman’s business, the empty carriage of the chief or other officer of rank, or the helmet or other implement suggestive of the business, unused, lies upon the bier, or the carr’age passes in the procession empty of its occupant, or the riderless horse calls attention to the absent leader. And in the love of the people, even though not expressed by chisel or stone, the fireman holds a secure place. The affection of the people is eloquently shown when he is exposed to danger The experience of every chief in this body, 1 assume, might be typified by the experience of any one chief of any city or town in America. When the firemen are engaged in the active performance of their work of extinguishing fire, the people always rush to their assistance, furnish them with mater al comforts, speak of them in terms of affection and of distinct reverence for the dangers of their position, and indicate their appreciation of their valuable services. So be it. gentlemen of the International Assoc ation oi Fire Engineers. Your vanity might lie better pleased by a grand sculptured group in the heart of this great metropolitan city representing in various forms the dangers and chances of your desperate business, the rescue of a child or an invalid from a lofty building at the risk of the life of the bearer of the burden, the mad rush to be at the fire, the splendid sacrifice of one fireman for his comrade all tb s might be expressed in memorial bronze, but none of this, my friends, equals the love, the affection for the fireman that lives in the hearts of the people. It is not, indeed, that great musicians shall express your services in ballads that the people might sing; it is not indeed that the great writers shall in enduring verse portray the record of your lives and dangers. No, my friends, for all those firemen who have gone, for all those who will go during the com ng year, for all those who from time to time must pass into the deathless future, lie assured a monument lives, beats and throbs in the hearts of the people they serve.

President Magee—1 am sure that eacn and every member of this association appreciates the very eloquent and beautiful oration delivered by Dr. Coyle. We will now have the pleasure of hearing that good, old familiar hymn, “Nearer, My God, to Thee.”

(This hymn was sung by the quartet named in the program in a most expressive manned.)

The last number on the program was a pipeorgan postlude, “Dead March from Saul,’’ by Mr. Dion W. Kennedy, after which the audience was dismissed.

Unveiling the Memorial

The unveiling of the Firemen’s Memorial Monument at Riverside Drive and 100th street Friday afternoon was one of the most brilliant episodes of the international gathering of fire fighters. Chiefs from the other side of the world and from cities in between, were in the reviewing stand to see the unveiling of the monument to New York’s Heroes of the Battles of Peace and to see the passing of two miles of marching firemen, motor and steam moved apparatus, volunteers from roundabout towns and thousands of exempt firemen who have served the State as volunteers in days gone by, dragging hand pump engines and hose reels of other generations. The line of march of the parade was from Fifth avenue to 57th street to Broadway, to 86th street, to Riverside Drive, to the monument. The New’ York division was headed by Chief Kenlon and Deputy Chiefs Lally, Martin, Guerin, Hayes and Acting Deputy Chief Joseph Crowley, Deputy Chiefs Langford, Maher, Callaghan and Burns, while the apparatus was in charge of Chief of Construction Demarest and Battalion Chief Graham. Sons of the firemen in line carried placards and banners along the line of the parade explaining the various exhibits of men and machinery. A prominent place in the parade was assigned to a battalion of the Baltimore Fire Department, under command of Chief Emerich, which was sent to the unveiling out of recognition of the aid given to that city by New York w’hen it was threatened with destruction several years ago. The program of the unveiling was commenced with invocation by Chaplain V. de P. McGean of the fire department; the unveiling of the monument, speech of presentation by Isidor Straus; acceptance by Robert Adamson, representing Mayor Gaynor; address by Commissioner Johnson and benediction by Fire Chaplain Ivie. In the stand were Miss Irene Kruger and Mrs. Emma Dellhausen, daughters of Deputy Chief Kruger. Four little girls, daughters of heroic department victims, pulled the cords which drew the flags from the monument. On the memorial, which takes the form of a fountain, led up to by steps, in tl is inscription :

‘To the Men of the Fire Department of the City of New York, Who Died at the Call of Duty; Soldiers in a War That Never Ends, This Memorial is Dedicated by the People of a Grateful City.”

Among those present were Deputy Fire Chief Dyer, of London; Chief Meier, of Amsterdam; Director of Public Safety Porter, of Philadelphia; former Chief Nevins, of Brooklyn; Mrs. Jesse Isidor Straus, Fire Chief and Mrs. John Kenlon, ex-Chief Edward F. Croker, Major C. E. Warren, S. Brentano and Harold Van Buren Magonigle, architect of the monument.

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