Deadwood Magazine

       Deadwood history written in flames

             Like the legendary phoenix, historic Deadwood has arisen from the ashes more than once in its 126-year history. 

            The latest conflagration -- the Grizzly Gulch wildfire that blazed up on Saturday, June 29, 2002 -- claimed 10,771 acres, seven homes, 15 other structures, and forced evacuation of several thousand Northern Hills residents and visitors.

It was a blazing reminder that Deadwood got its name from fire.

When the first prospectors entered the gulch in late 1875 they found huge quantities of downed timber -- dead wood – probably the remnants of earlier forest fires. They identified the new gold strike site as Dead Wood Gulch, later to become Deadwood City.

Deadwood was destroyed three times within the first decade of its existence – twice by fire and once by a flash flood. Nestled in a narrow gulch between steep hills,  homes and businesses, constructed mainly from sap-filled pine boards and canvas, created their own fire hazard.

 “We’ve been here before.”  

 

Still in its infancy, Deadwood was wiped out by its first major conflagration September 27, 1879. The fire began in Mrs. Ellsner’s bakery on Sherman Street, near the present site of the Adams Museum, and blazed down the street to a hardware store where kegs of blasting powder used in mining operations exploded with a blast that shook the gulch. Spreading up the hill, flames consumed homes on the narrow streets of Forest Hill overlooking Main Street.

            Black Hills Trails said it was “the most destructive fire that ever occurred in the Territory of Dakota” and described hundreds of people who “seem paralyzed or half-crazed” as they scrabbled up steep hillsides carrying a few valuable possessions and watched their dwellings go up in smoke.

            Final reports tallied the loss at 300 structures and more than $1 million, surprising numbers for a town in existence for just three years. Unfortunately, the loss also included official records from early gold camp days, a frustration to latter day historical researchers.

Rebuilt in more fire-resistant brick and stone, a new Deadwood rose from the ashes of the raw mining camp.

Over the years Deadwood business owners became accustomed to rebuilding or relocating as successive fires plagued the narrow ravine.

A series of forest fires rampaged through the Northern Hills in the fall of 1893, threatening Deadwood, Lead and Central City.

A major portion of Deadwood’s business district was rebuilt after fire destroyed two downtown blocks in 1894.  That blaze began in Mrs. Chilson’s Main Street lodging house, “a disorderly place patronized by a careless and heedless element,” according to the Pioneer Times.

Over the next half-century only relatively small fires were quelled in Deadwood. Then came the “Fiery Fifties” which actually began two years early, in May 1948, when a furniture store and two bars burned.

A December 1951 conflagration took out two Main Street buildings and damaged a third. Just a month later, fire destroyed a half-block of the business district. Invaluable records were lost for the second time as the original city hall across from the Franklin Hotel burned to the ground. Deadwood’s last theater burned in 1954. A gas explosion destroyed one building in 1955. Two warehouses and the city’s heavy equipment barn went up in flames in 1956.

The 2002 fire was a déjà vu experience for many area evacuees who had vivid memories of fleeing town during the $3 million Deadwood Fire that wiped out 4,500 acres in 1959. Fed by gusty winds, the ’59 fire literally exploded northwest of Deadwood the afternoon of September 8, surrounding the city on three sides by 4 p.m. Flames lapped across the hills, filling downtown streets with smoke and limiting visibility to less than a half-block. Confused evacuees created steady steams of traffic in all directions as, one after another, escape routes were cut off by flames jumping highways.

“At five minutes past four on Tuesday afternoon a reasonable man wouldn’t have offered a plugged nickel for the whole town of Deadwood,” wrote Rapid City Journal reporter Ken Jumper.

.Another damaging decade began with the 1980s. The Ranger Bar and an upstairs former brothel burned in 1982. Three miles up the gulch, Lead’s historic Homestake Opera House burned in April 1984. Nearly 500 students got an unscheduled vacation in February 1985 when a fire set by two juvenile arsonists destroyed the oldest part of Deadwood’s junior high school, a complex built in the late 1800s.

The nearly 100-year-old downtown Syndicate Building on the corner of Lee and Main Streets burned to the ground in December 1987, consuming several business locations. In near-zero temperatures, firemen struggled through the night to keep from losing the entire downtown block.

Dramatic photos of flames leaping skyward from the Syndicate building were used by the Deadwood You Bet Committee to sell South Dakota voters on historical preservation financed by legalized gambling. The Holiday Inn Express was built on the site once occupied by the Syndicate Building.

With more than a century of fiery history, Deadwood was understandably able to take the 2002 Grizzly Gulch Fire in stride.

“We’ve been here before,” said Mayor Francis Toscana. “Deadwood’s survived worse disasters on countless occasions. We just decided to start our Fourth of July barbeque a little earlier this year.”  

Thousands of residents, employees and visitors were evacuated from Deadwood, Lead and outlying areas. It was a tense several days for evacuees while as many as 900 firefighters kept the prowling Grizzly at bay on the outskirts of the historic town. A collective sign of relief went up when the town reopened on the evening of July 1.

“Hours after we got word it was safe for us to return, a wave of vehicles descended upon town,” said Mayor Toscana. “The fire started on Saturday, the evacuation order was lifted Monday night and by Tuesday it was business as usual.”

Signs went up on most buildings, thanking firefighters for saving the town. A benefit concert raised more than $20,000 for the seven families who lost their homes. The Adams Museum began collecting personal stories, photographs and artifacts of the Grizzly Gulch Fire at monthly open forums. Deadwood maintained its reputation as a party town by throwing a “thank-you” parties for professional and volunteer smoke eaters who saved the National Historic Landmark town. 

With the indomitable spirit that enabled them to rebuild after prior disasters, homeowners rolled up their sleeves and began recovery efforts. Some of them were scrubbing red fire retardant dropped by slurry bombers from decks and home exteriors.

“I have a red house that used to be gray. It’s the nicest color in the world,” said Tom Blair, who protected his Whistler Gulch campground with a watering hose while flames roared down the hill toward his camp.

Visitors who had heard sensationalized reports on national news were amazed and pleased to see so little evidence of the $5.4 million Grizzly Gulch Fire. Lush stands of ponderosa pines still cover the hills surrounding the town. Few burned areas are visible from the downtown business district.

Chamber of Commerce director Dave Ruth stressed that the Grizzly burned less than one percent of the Black Hills National Forest. “The Hills have such an inherent natural beauty … this fire didn’t steal that away from us. The forest is still here, the town is still here.”

At a July 16 press conference, Gov. Bill Janklow said a multi-agency investigative team has determined the disaster was sparked by electric power lines touching trees. Black Hills Power Company officials disagreed with those findings and are conducting their own investigation.

The price of taming the Grizzly is still being tabulated and may go as high as $7.2 million, according to recent estimates. Property damages and economic impact haven’t yet been determined.                 

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Deadwood Magazine ©2002