Letitia Dicke Letter, July 25, 1892

From the Carolyn McGrath Collections

Bay City, Mich., July 25, 1892

Dear Brother Robert, Margaret and May:

I'm at Ella's, keeping  house for her.

It is now near midnight and I'm wide awake and expect to be for the rest of the night.  Anna came down an hour or two ago to tell me that I'm homeless.  We were burned out this afternoon, with hundreds of other families.

There is not a house left from 29th street up to 35th and as far back from the river as Stanton street and Broadway - a clean sweep!

The fire commenced in Albert Miller's mill, which was the first to go, and was the worst fire Bay City ever had.  There is not one house left on 29th street from Water street to the school house.  All gone, and all Fremont avenue, and for blocks and blocks beyond.  Our small house was not long in going, but the big one was a little tougher.  Gibbs just came and told me the roof had tumbled in.  They got out all that they could and put the things in the field with "Jenny", the cow.  R.B. is watching them tonight, I, being down here, did not know about it.  I knew there was a fire but did not know that we were in danger.

About 8 o'clock Anna came to the front door and rang.  I went, and laughingly asked: "Did you get burned out?"  "Yes," she replied, "I did and so did you".  It was quite a while before I could believe it.  I
can't realize yet that I've no home.

I had gathered up quite a large washing and put it in the basement, but they are all burned.  I don't know yet what I've left.  Will go up early in the morning to see.  I do know that I've only one shirt, as that is
on me.  In my last wash, I had overlooked quite a number of things, but cloth is cheap.

Anna, Gibbs and the children are here.  Robert is watching our stuff.

Old Mr. Campbell had one eye hooked by a cow; it is too bad.  They, too, are burned out.  Also the Baptist and Methodist Churches - all gone. You can stand on Stanton street and look clear down to the river, nothing left but ruins.

Anna said that the first men who came running in to help were two that used to board with us, John Fagert and Jas. McGuire.  I've not seen either of them for years.  They said: "We did not come in for dinner, we came to help you move."  We could not get much help for every one was busy alike.

There are hundreds tonight who will sleep on the ground and without their suppers.  Poor little children who got separated from their parents.  One woman lost her little babe.  Anna said she'd go crazy, had
she stayed there longer herself, seeing and hearing the distress.  A colored woman to whom I used to give milk for a sick babe, went up from 17th street when she heard we were in the fire, and worked like two men. Anna said she never saw a woman work as she did.

Well, I'm about exhausted.  The old home is gone!

I've seen some sad days as well as some very happy ones in it.

It was the only home we had, but I'm thankful to know that it is as well with us as it is.

Write soon,
With love,
Letitia Dicke
(You'll always remember the old home.)

Copyright Carolyn McGrath, 2002