The Hull Home Fire

by Linda Abbott

  Two former residents of Hull Home gave testimony. One said the living conditions were very comfortable, the food healthy and abundant. The other swore the rooms were overcrowded, the food sparse and poorly cooked.

  Nurse Jean Baker, dressed to perfection in her uniform with cape and hat, proclaimed the care at the Home second to none. The remaining two nurses agreed the Home was beyond reproach.

  At twelve sharp, Emerson called a recess for dinner. Many of the spectators chose to remain so as not to lose their place. Henry headed toward the door. Mrs. Norris smiled at him and followed her daughter outside. Henry saw them descend the many steps at the side of the courthouse which led to Water Street. He turned in the opposite direction and went home.

  “How’s it going ?” Tom asked when the family was seated at the table.

  “It’s hard to tell. Half the witnesses praise the Home. Half condemn it.” Henry paused in his eating. “My impression is that City Hall and the Health Department will share in the blame for the fire with Mr. Hull.” He explained what had come out at the inquiry thus far.

  “My mother and all the others died horrible deaths because of a group of men in high positions,” Alice said. “Men who didn’t give a damn about old and sick people.”

  *

  HENRY RETURNED to the courtroom at 1:30 p.m. Mary and her mother had already retaken their seats. The first witness called was Isaac Hull. He wore a brown suit with a brown shirt. His hands were bandaged, injured during the fire. Henry noticed he seemed unsteady as he walked to the witness box.

  “Mr. Hull,” Carter began. “Do you deny that you tried on numerous occasions to repair the kitchen stove yourself ?”

  Isaac cleared his throat. “I did a little tinkering, nothing serious.”

  “What did you do when you discovered the fire in the kitchen ?”

  “Flames shot up around the kettle and from the back of the stove. The heat was unbearable and the smoke stung my eyes. I couldn’t see a thing.” Isaac glanced around the room from under heavy brows. “Even so, I tried to get a bucket and fill it with water.”

  “Did you succeed ?”

  “No. The fire had spread all through the kitchen.” Isaac lowered his head.

  “Go on, Mr. Hull.”

  “I ran to the foot of the stairs and shouted ‘fire.’ I met Howard Pike and told him to call the Fire Department.”

  “What did you do then ?”

  “I... I went outside.”

  A low murmur rippled through the spectators.

  Mr. Carter waited for Emerson to bring order to the room. “Tell me, Mr. Hull, why didn’t you go upstairs to warn the residents, to help organize a rescue effort ?”

  Isaac flicked his eyes right and left as if he didn’t know where to look. “I was afraid for my life. Although I helped rescue residents from the Annex.”

  “Is that a fact, Mr. Hull ? Fire Chief Baker testified that Fire Chief Cadigan had to break in the door of the Annex in order to remove the residents.”

  Isaac remained silent.

  The Crown prosecutor walked back and forth in front of the witness box. “Why did you not implement the recommendations of the fire inspector ?”

  Isaac moved around on the chair. “I never received any formal notification from City Hall or the Health Department to do so.”

  “Did you take it upon yourself to inquire if you should implement fire escapes ?”

  Isaac seemed to shrink in the chair. “No.”

  “I have three more witnesses to call,” Carter said when Isaac returned to his seat. “The first is Miss Mary Norris, the charwoman at Hull Home.”

  Henry watched her walk to the witness box, pale, her bad shoulder strapped to her side. Her eyes fell on him, lingering a few seconds. His face burned.

  “Miss Norris,” the Crown prosecutor said, “you sustained serious injuries in your attempt to rescue residents during the fire, with no thought to your own welfare.” He turned to face the spectators, then looked back at Mary. “Very commendable indeed. As you are not yet fully healed, I will endeavour to keep my questions brief and to the point.”

  Mary produced a weak smile.

  “What can you tell me about the condition of the stove at Hull Home ?”

  Her gaze shot to Mr. Hull. Henry was certain he saw an apology in her expression. Isaac twisted a pencil around and around in his hand.

  “It leaked often,” Mary said. “Mr. Hull would try to fix it himself. When that didn’t work, he called in a mechanic.”

  “Miss Norris, did you ever ‘tinker’ with the stove ?”

  “No. Mr. Hull wouldn’t let me.”

  “Did Mr. Hull do anything else concerning the stove that bothered you ?”

  “He hung wet dishcloths on the pipe behind the stove to dry them.” Mary swayed slightly and grabbed the box rail.

  Henry sprang to his feet and was about to run to her when Flora rushed forward.

  Emerson turned to the court clerk. “Bring the young lady a glass of water.”

  The man left and came back almost immediately. Mary drank slowly, swallowing after each sip, and her colour returned.

  “Thank you, my dear,” Emerson said. “You may step down.”

  Flora helped her daughter back to her seat.

  Henry’s heart lurched when his name was called. Carter smiled at him. “You worked as an accountant at Hull Home. Did you ever witness problems with the kitchen stove in the main building ?”

  “Sometimes you could smell the oil when it leaked. Mr. Freeman was called many times to repair the stove.”

  “Can you comment on the quality of food served ?”

  “I only ever ate tea and toast there.”

  “Your grandmother, Mrs. Dorothy Gatherall, was a resident.” Carter paused. “My sympathies on her passing in the fire.”

  “Thank you,” Henry said.

  “Did she ever comment on the conditions ?”

  “Gran, my grandmother, was leaving the Home to come live with us. She was tired of the same food all the time and wanted a room to herself.”

  “One final question. In your opinion, was Hull House a good place to reside ?”

  Henry looked straight at Mary. “There were some good people there.”

  She blushed and looked down.

  Dr. Kennedy took the stand. Henry hadn’t noticed him before.

  “From what I observed on my weekly visits to the Home,” the doctor began, his voice strong and clear, “the tuberculosis patients were well looked after. In my considered opinion, the nurses treated them with care and respect.”

  “Doctor,” Carter said, “do you feel that three nurses were adequate for the number of tubercular and other sick patients in the Home ?”

  “They worked long, hard hours.”

  “Would you go so far as to say they were overworked ?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you. No more questions.”

  Dr. Kennedy returned to his seat.

  Emerson ran his eyes around the room. “A catastrophe certainly brings things out into the open,” he said.

  Henry looked to Mary once more.

  “Before I conclude this inquiry,” Emerson went on, “I have a personal statement to make.” He directed his gaze to where senior officials from City Hall and the Health Department sat. “I cannot believe that, having the power and the obligation to enforce safety measures, the city chose to do nothing. As for the Department of Health and Welfare, health and welfare should be a practised priority, not simply a title.” He gathered up his notes. “I will review the evidence presented with extreme care and consideration, then render my conclusions as to the cause of the fire and those responsible for the needless, tragic loss of so many lives. Good day.”

  Chapter 16

  TOM ENJOYED A THIRD CUP of tea and a raisin bun. “I wonder how long it’ll be before Emerson releases his findings ?”

  “I don’t expect there’ll be any surprises,” Alice said, hanging up the dishtowel. “There’s m
ore than Mr. Hull to blame.” She rooted around in the pantry. “I was sure I bought more than one,” she muttered.

  “What are you looking for ?” Tom asked.

  “Flour. I wanted to make an apple pie for dinner.” Alice closed the long, narrow door and searched all the bottom cupboards. “I could have sworn I bought an extra bag last week when Mr. Royal had the two-for-one sale.”

  “You must’ve used it, love. Henry should be back soon. He’ll go to the grocery for you.”

  “I’ll go. Do you need any cigarettes ?”

  “No thanks. I have a half-carton left.”

  Halfway down the hall, Alice called to her husband. “By the way. Don’t budge from that chair while I’m gone,” she said. “See you in a few minutes.”

  “I’m not a youngster,” he grumbled back.

  “You are while you’re on the mend,” Alice said sweetly.

  Tom picked up the Daily News from the table. “More garbage about Confederation,” he said, and threw down the paper. He reached into his pocket for a cigarette. The package empty, he stared at the top cupboard next to the pantry where he kept his supply. Tired of having to depend on either his wife or son to even go to the toilet, he reached for his crutches and stood up. He hesitated. Alice would be upset if he attempted anything she considered an unnecessary strain or risk. “Rubbish. I’m a grown man.”

  He crossed the kitchen on his toes, his fingers almost crushing the handgrips on the crutches. He steadied himself against the pantry and raised a hand to open the cupboard door. As he did, the crutch fell away. Tom lost his balance and tried to grab hold of the door. His missed and knocked a biscuit tin to the floor. The lid popped off and the contents scattered around his feet. “Damn it,” he spit out. “I can’t even manage a cupboard door.” He looked at the wall clock. The grocery store was only around the corner. Alice would be home any minute.

  Tom went down on his knees, gathered up the envelopes, and stuffed them in the tin. About to return the can back to the cupboard, the lid popped again. He noticed a return address on an envelope. His pulse hammered while he checked several more, the dates going back ten years.

  Tom struggled to keep the crutches from slipping out from under him on his way to the living room. “How could she ?” he murmured over and over. He sat and stared out the window. The icicles had thickened to twice their original size. He saw Alice walk up the street with a seven-pound bag of flour under her arm. She stopped to talk with Flora Norris. She smiled a smile which reached her eyes, almost obliterating the traces of grief. His gaze remained on the window even after she had entered.

  “Tom,” she called. “I saw Bill in the grocery store. There’s been another accident with the crane at the dock.” She kicked off her boots and went into the living room. “Thank God no one was hurt this time.”

  Tom kept his head turned toward the window.

  “Did you hear me ?”

  No response.

  “Tom, are you all right ?”

  He pulled out the letters from under the cushion. “What do you think ?”

  Alice paled, whiter than she had been since the day Dot died. “I... I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Sorry. Is that all you have to say ?”

  Alice took a deep breath and walked right up to her husband. “You’re well aware I’ve wanted you to hear your brother’s side of the story,” she said. “I took it upon myself for Henry’s sake to get to know Mike in whatever way possible.”

  “How could you go behind my back like that ?”

  “I only wanted to reach out to the brother you’re afraid to admit you still love.”

  “I bet he made up all kinds of excuses about why he stayed away.”

  “No. That was the one subject he wouldn’t talk about.”

  “Mike could always twist words to his advantage.”

  “For goodness’ sake,” Alice said. “Read the letters. Your brother isn’t the devil you make him out to be.” She turned and left before he could answer.

  Tom tossed the letters on the coffee table and stared at the pile. He reached for the top envelope, hesitated, then pulled his hand back.

  MIKE TOOK OFF THE NAPKIN tucked into his shirt collar and laid it on the empty plate he had been tempted to lick clean as Dr. Kennedy came into the dining room.

  “You’re late this morning,” Mike said.

  “My first patient isn’t until ten. It’s the only day I can catch up on some sleep.”

  Mike patted his stomach. “Mrs. Simms makes a delicious breakfast.”

  The doctor smiled. “Don’t mention that in her presence. She might ask for a raise.”

  Mrs. Simms carried in a hefty serving of pancakes. “A raise is a dandy idea,” she said, and placed the dish on the table in front of her employer. Her eyes twinkled at Mike. “There’s plenty more if you’re still hungry, Dr. Gibbs.”

  “If I touch another bite, I’ll have to let out my trousers.”

  Mrs. Simms graced him with a huge smile. “Give a shout if you change your mind. I’m handy with a needle and thread as well.”

  The doctor dribbled molasses over two large pancakes. “Seems like you’ve made a conquest in my housekeeper,” he said. “Mind you, she’s not easily won over.”

  Mike held up the morning paper for his friend to see the headline about the inquiry. “How did it go ?”

  Dr. Kennedy’s fork paused midway to his mouth. “It was a terrible business. An awful heartache for the families dredging up what happened, trying to find the cause and assign blame.”

  “I imagine Henry was called to testify.”

  “And his girl, Mary Morris. The residents loved her.” The doctor put the knife and fork on his plate as if he had lost his appetite. “She’s not quite physically recovered from the ordeal. Her mental state might be another issue altogether.” He stared at Mike. “She found Alice’s mother seconds after she died of smoke inhalation.”

  “The poor girl,” Mike said. “That memory will most likely haunt her for the rest of her days.”

  “I’m glad Henry was spared that at least,” Dr. Kennedy said. He dug into the food once more. “Mike, not to change the subject, but you’ve been here for ten days.”

  Mike laughed. “Outstayed my welcome, have I ?”

  “Never, old friend.” The doctor chewed a chunk of pancake, swallowed, and cut off another piece.

  Mike supported his chin on the heel of a hand. “I’m waiting for the point you’re taking too much time to make.”

  “Time for reasoning with Tom is over. Show him what a headstrong dope he’s been these forty years.” Dr. Kennedy removed the cozy from the teapot and filled his cup. “I know it’ll be somewhat of a shock for him.” He added enough milk to render the tea lukewarm. “Tom’s a grown man. He’ll just have to take everything in stride.”

  “I’d rather try to get him to listen to me one more time.” Mike pushed back his chair and stood up. “If that doesn’t work, I’ll take your advice into consideration.”

  “Mike, if you want to see your own family anytime soon, I suggest you do more than consider my advice.”

  “My wife has given me her blessing to stay as long as it takes.” He took out her picture from an inside pocket. “She’s a lot like Alice. Anyway, I’m going to Tom’s this morning. I’ll fill you in on what happens.”

  “Good luck,” Dr. Kennedy said. “You’ll need it,” he mumbled under his breath when Mike vanished out the door.

  “Need what ?” Mrs. Simms said.

  “Nothing. I was thinking out loud.”

  MIKE WALKED OUT OF CABOT tower and got into the back of the ABC taxi. His ears were numb, his lips dry. “This has to be the coldest place on earth,” he said.

  The driver tossed the last of a Camel cigarette out the window, rolled it up, and turned on the ignition. “Where to now ?” he asked, glancing in the rear-view mirror. A mixture of smoke and mist from his breath hovered around him. He wound stiff fingers around the steering wheel. “Doesn’
t take long for the heat to seep out once the car’s turned off.”

  Cabot Tower had been the second stop on the spur-of-the-moment city tour. A ride through The Gut and past Quidi Vidi Lake had been the first. Mike wiped steam from the glass and looked out at the Atlantic Ocean, mere yards beyond the concrete railing used as a protection against the hill’s rocky landscape. The sky was a brilliant blue. The sun reflected off the smooth water, undisturbed by wind or waves. He had seen icebergs poke up from the depths like white melted candles the last time he had visited Signal Hill. Several small fishing boats studded the vast expanse.

  The taxi rounded the sharp curb at the entrance to the parking lot and started the long, winding ride down Signal Hill. “Buddy, made up your mind yet where you want to go next ?”

  “Yes, I have. You’ll be happy to know it’s a house,” Mike said, and gave Tom’s address.

  “It don’t bother me none if I have to drive all over the city. It’s freezing to death while you’re traipsing around our historic sites is the hard part.”

  “Can’t say as I blame you,” Mike said.

  “Not to be butting into your business, but you sound like a St. John’s man born and bred. Surely you’ve seen everything by now.”

  “This is my first time back in forty years.”

  The car inched down the steep incline, slipping at every sharp curve toward the ditch. “The hill is icy enough to skate on,” the driver said. He gazed at Mike in the rear-view mirror. “Not to worry. I’ve been driving for nigh on fifteen years and never had an accident yet.”

  “Winter driving on St. John’s hills can be treacherous and nerve-racking,” Mike said as they neared the bottom. “I’d almost forgotten.”

  “That’s a fact. The horses have an even tougher time of it with their metal shoes and all.” The driver passed the Hotel Newfoundland and turned left onto Military Road. Shortly they were abreast of the CLB Armoury on their right. “I’ll wager that Joey Smallwood and his crew are in there right now planning the ruination of this country.”