Steamer Tremont
The Tremont was a 260-foot long, side-wheel paddle-steamer plying the waters between Providence, RI and New York.
She originally made the Boston to New York run but the burgeoning railroads had put a stop to that.
Railroads were willing to cut their freight and passenger prices to match or undercut the steamer lines to either put them out of business or to at least keep them in check.
Side-wheel Steamer
The passage down from Providence was often overnight and through Long Island Sound.
Steamship travel was fast and could be very comfortable though not without its dangers.
Boiler explosions were all too common and the Sound was a very busy place with night travel, especially in foggy weather, being a hazardous experience.
In fact, the Tremont had lost 40 feet of her bow, cut clean off, in a 1901 collision on the Sound with the steam yacht Wild Duck.
She was towed in to New London and beached.
Unfortunately for the Tremont, Wild Duck was constructed of iron plate and it was an uneven match-up in fairly clear weather though Wild Duck had gone full speed astern before they made contact.
Croker Makes a Come Back
It was cold and clear during the early morning hours of February 8, 1904, as the Tremont lay tied-up at the East River docks with 150 tons of cargo lashed to the forward main deck.
East River Docks
The crew of forty-five was fast asleep.
Fire-wise, the excitement was centered on Baltimore where the “Great Fire” was underway, having started the day before and ravaged much of the waterfront there.
FDNY had offered to send fire companies and President Roosevelt, ever in charge, had sent the Corps of Engineers to help contain the blaze.
Croker
The big FDNY news was that the following day Edward Croker would be returning as fire chief after a legal victory when he was forced out in a reform movement spearheaded by Roosevelt.
Edward was the nephew of Richard “Boss” Croker, the infamous Tammany machine politician who was also a fire commissioner.
Fire!
Fire was discovered by the main deck watchman who alerted the ship’s crew and then made his way to the company office on the pier so that the fire department could be summoned.
As it was still the era of the horse, the response entailed hitching up the team, preparing for steam and the trip over slippery granite pavers at a pace fast enough to get there without breaking down the horses.
The fire was raging on arrival but not so hot that Lieutenant Andrews and firefighters Matthews, Siemes and Grady were prevented from stretching a line on deck.
The crew was sweeping the fire with the nozzle when across the deck two scorched and furious lions burst into view having escaped from their cages below.
The two groups spotted each other and the lions made their move to attack.
Andrews and his team were some 20 feet from the deck railing and he ordered them to direct the stream right onto the pacing animals to disorient them and drive them off.
Then they began a slow withdrawal movement across the deck till they reached the rail.
They dropped the hoseline, used the davits to swing over and drop exhausted, to the pier below.
Three Alarms Plus Strong and the New Yorker
Going back aboard was out of the question, obviously.
The Tremont burned for hours as she sank in 25 feet of water.
The William L. Strong
The lions were last seen pacing on deck as the fire burned around them.
They had been brought to the city to appear at Huber’s Museum at 106 East 14th Street, styled by the Times as “Home of Countless Freaks.”
Huber’s was “home of the bottled snakes, the stuffed lizards, of the fat women and of Bosco, who ate them alive.”
But the addition of lions would have to wait.