To Margaret, her third child was a godsend: A good baby who even during the first few weeks slept most of the night. In fact, Leona seldom cried, and if she did then her parents knew immediately that their baby girl was hungry or wasn’t feeling well, rather than stubbornly crying just to get attention, as babies are prone to do. On top of that, the Haleys’ newborn appeared to be as healthy as Lillian and Arlene were, if not more so. By the time she was three months old the slender girl had a long thin neck typical of babies her age. It was barely strong enough to hold up her head, but when she was able to hold her head high, everyone said that she looked like a curious turtle as she scanned the room with her tiny eyes, searching out and discovering things she had never seen, or maybe just never noticed before.
One thing little Leona could always count on seeing was her devoted sisters. And that was because Lillian and Arlene adored her, as she did them. The girls were always hugging and kissing their cute sister at every opportunity. Each loved it when the baby girl would grab their nose and not let go. In fact, the two would intentionally place their little fingers in Leona’s delicate hand and scream with delight when she clamped onto them tighter than the claw of a Maine lobster. They also loved to roll around on the floor with Leona and let her crawl onto their little stomachs. Indeed, they played with her constantly, so much so that “Arween” and “Wilwian” were the first words out of the infant’s mouth, followed soon thereafter by “Mama” and “Papa.”
When Leona took her first wobbly steps at nine months, Lillian and Arlene were also there to help her. They would walk with her around the house and catch her if she started to fall. At the age of eleven months she was walking adroitly, thanks greatly to her sisters’ constant help; and, as Leona grew older, the girls would each take hold of her tiny hands and strut proudly around the neighborhood with their bowlegged little friend. Without fail, when the two girls bumped into their neighbors along Palm Street, or met visitors at Chapin Park, they told them all about Leona, especially about how quickly she learned to walk and talk; and their praise for their little sister was not unwarranted. Even her parents were amazed at Leona’s ability to talk so adroitly at such a young age. In fact, it was not long after learning to vocalize words that the little girl uttered a short but profound sentence that would be a precursor of her abilities, but more important, a sentence that marked the beginning of a historic event long remembered by the Haleys; and even more so by the city in which they lived.
—1—
It was Sunday afternoon, April 30th, 1911, and the Haleys could be seen walking down State Street with their children, as they so often did. Leona had just turned one on the previous Wednesday and the parents promised to take her and their other children to downtown Bangor the following Sunday, in celebration of that occasion. Along the way on that sunny, yet unusually windy spring day, Murdock was pointing out various things to little Leona, all the while knowing that she likely understood little of what he was saying to her. Regardless, the Haleys often spoke to Leona as if she understood everything that was being said—as they had to Lillian and Arlene when they were little—in hope that it would help her more quickly grasp the English language.
“This is where I had my first date with your Mama,” Leona’s father said as they passed Judy’s.
When they came to Broadway, it was Margaret’s turn.
“See that vehicle over there, Leona. That’s called a trolley. I used to ride it all the way to Glenburn, for a good 6 miles. And then I had to walk almost a mile to my home on Ohio Street, good weather or bad. It’s where my mother—your Grandma Eunice—lives. And my sisters Mae and Maude live in Glenburn too, side-by-side on Broadway. I only had to take the trolley about 4 miles to visit them. In a while you’ll see where your father and I first met; or maybe I should say where we first eyed each other.”
As the Haleys continued on their way along State Street, crossing Oak and Broadway, and started down the steep hill, Margaret spoke again.
“This is Purgatory Hill, Leona. At least, that’s what your father calls it.”
And when they approached the intersection of State, Exchange and Harlow Streets, Margaret spoke to her daughter again.
“Leona, this place here is called East Market Square, and before long we’ll cross over the Kenduskeag River and visit West Market Square where we’re gonna treat you to ice cream.”
When Leona heard the words ice cream, a smile crept onto the little girl’s face.
“How about us?” Lillian asked.
“Don’t you fret yourself, Lil. You know darn well that you’ll be getting an ice cream too—and Arlene.”
“Oh goody!” 4-year-old Arlene yelled.
The parents looked at each other and smiled. When they reached Exchange Street, the Haleys turned left.
“See this building here, Leona? It’s where your mother and I found our jobs. If you look way down there you can see where I work,” Murdock said while pointing toward the Bangor Freight Station at the end of Exchange Street. “See? It’s that large red building. Your mother used to worked there too.”
“And just a little down on the left is the Bangor Daily News,” Margaret said. “And across from it is a library belonging to the University of Maine—the University’s in Orono. And back this way on Harlow Street is Bangor High School. Someday you’ll be going to school there, and who knows maybe even to the University; that’s about 5 miles north of here. Anyway, most people think Harlow Street is a continuation of Exchange, but it’s not. Look down there and you can see the Windsor Hotel on the left side of Harlow Street, and the City Hall is on the right; and beyond it on the right is the Public Library and the high school. But you can’t see that very well because it’s behind the library.
“Now look down State Street, Leona. About 300 feet from here—where the hill flattens out—is a small street-level bridge over the Kenduskeag River that your Papa and I call ‘Market Bridge’. Why do we call it that, you ask? Well, it’s because, for all practical purposes, it separates East Market Square from West Market Square, or what they call downtown Bangor. See? It’s a little more than a hundred feet beyond the bridge; where all those streets meet.”
“Mama,” Lillian said, “Leona can’t understand what you’re saying; and even if she could she’ll never be able to remember all those names.”
“Maybe not, dear,” Margaret said. “And then again, maybe she can.”
The Haleys turned and began walking down the left side of Exchange Street, and the parents described each of the businesses and stores they passed along the way. Then they crossed Washington Street and entered the freight station. Murdock looked to his left and spoke to his little girl.
“See that office there, Leona? It’s where I first saw your mother. No, wait a minute; come to think of it, the first time I laid eyes on Maggie she was standing right there near the door where Lillian is standing.”
“And the first time I saw your Papa was when I noticed him gawking at me from right over there near those crates,” Margaret explained. “I was sitting in the office, and I remember that when I saw him looking at me I had to pull my skirt down over my ankles so as to not show anything. But I was almost tempted to pull it up again after I saw how good looking he was.”
“You never told me that, sweetheart,” Murdock said.
“That’s because I didn’t want to give you a big head, darling. It was big enough as it was. Your Papa’s not known for his modesty, kids,” Margaret said sarcastically.
“Well, I think we’d better be heading downtown now,” Murdock said, “before you corrupt my children with any more of your tall tales.”
The Haleys walked back Exchange Street to East Market Square, turned left onto State Street, and then crossed the small bridge over the Kenduskeag Stream to finally reach West Market Square. They then headed to the waterfront with the intention of having a family picnic. Before leaving home, Margaret had packed a picnic basket and Lillian volunteered to carry it. Upon coming to the waterfront they sat on the scenic riverbank watching eagles and seagulls circling overhead while they ate lunch.
—2—
After a two-hour picnic, which included four games of Cribbage, the Haleys spent another two hours sightseeing and lollygagging, during which the children were treated to ice cream. Then they were ready for home, none more so than Margaret who had been carrying Leona for much of that time.
“I think we’d better head home now, Murdy, so I can ready supper,” she said. “It’s well past four.”
“Okay, dear,” he replied. “Here, let me carry Leona for you.”
The Haleys walked briskly down Main Street to West Market Square. They had just turned right onto State Street when 1-year-old Leona heard something and looked up.
“Look, Papa! Big Bird! Oh, smoke! See smoke?”
Murdock looked up to where Leona was pointing and saw the sky full of black smoke.
“Look, Maggie! It looks like there’s a bad fire somewhere up ahead!”
The Haleys hurried over Market Bridge and up the hill toward East Market Square. When they reached Exchange Street they looked right and saw the front of a wooden building at the far end of it almost completely engulfed in flames.
“Oh my God, Murdy! Look at that!” Margaret shouted. “Is the freight station on fire?”
“It doesn’t seem so, Maggie,” he answered. “It’s hard to tell for sure though, what with all the smoke. But the flames appear to be on this side of Washington Street; maybe even this side of Hancock.”
The wind was so strong that the shop owners, who were frantically fighting the fast-moving fire, had little chance, despite fearlessly throwing buckets of water on it. Within minutes, two other buildings on Exchange Street and a couple more along Hancock Street were on fire. By the time the firefighters arrived in their horse-drawn fire-wagons with water-tanks filled to the brim, the raging fire was out of control.
“Oh, dear God! Look at how fast the fire is spreading! Do you suppose it’ll make it to Palm Street?” Margaret asked her husband.
“No, I don’t think so. They should have it out well before then. But you’d bes’ hurry home with the kids and keep a close eye out, just to be safe,” he said while handing Leona to his wife.
“What are you going to do, Murdy?”
“I’m gonna stay here and see if I can be of help. I’m a little worried that the wind might change. If the fire jumps Washington and burns down the station, I’m out of a job.”
“Okay, but you be careful. And if the fire starts making its way up State Street, you come straight home, you hear.”
“You don’t have to worry, Maggie. I’m not about to let anything happen to you and the kids; job be damned.”
With that, Margaret and the children rushed home, while Murdock ran down the middle of Exchange Street to avoid the flames that were now raging on both sides of the street. Even so, the heat was so intense that he could barely stand it. As he ran past fire-wagons manned by firefighters from Bangor, Murdock was amazed at the strength and efficiency of the men who stood on top of them pumping the water into the fire hoses with all their might; and he was impressed by the courage of the men who used those hoses in an effort to dowse the ferocious fire. Within a couple of minutes the breathless Canadian was crossing Washington Street and, soon thereafter, running into the Bangor Freight Station where workers were scrambling around looking for equipment to help with the fire fighting effort.
“Bobby, is everything under control here?” he asked after bursting through the front door.
“I think so, Murdy. We’re watering down the roof now, as fast as we humanly can, and the sides of the building.”
“Good. You stay here and make sure this place is safe. I’m gonna see if I can be of help containing the fire to the other side of Washington.”
“Okay, Murdy, but you be careful,” a worried Bobby warned his longtime friend.
—3—
Murdock hurried out the front door, ran back across Washington Street, and began helping the firefighters drag their hoses while they fought the flames at the corner of Exchange and Hancock Street. He had only been there a few minutes when the Canadian heard a woman screaming hysterically.
“Help! Help! Please, for God’s sake, somebody help me! My little girl’s trapped in her room.”
Murdock looked in the direction of the screams and saw a woman standing on the right side of Hancock Street, frantically pointing to a second-floor window on the opposite side, about a block from where he was helping fight the fire. Without thinking, he took off running.
“Where’s your little girl?” he shouted to the frantic women while almost knocking her over as he rushed by. Murdock was headed toward a pile of belongings someone had thrown from a second story window of the burning building. He quickly grabbed a blanket from the pile.
“What room is your little girl in?” he shouted again, this time over his shoulder while running toward the building.
“She’s in 211; in the bedroom to the right of the door. That’s the window of her room up there: the open one. I just stepped out for a second to get some milk, and when I got back the place was on fire. I was out of my mind; it was so hot and smoky in there I couldn’t get to my baby. So I ran down here for help. Hurry!”
“What’s your little girl’s name?” he asked.
“Julie. She’s only four! God, please help her! I don’t know what I’d do if I lost my baby.”
“Don’t you worry, miss. I’ll get her out okay.”
“I’m going with you.”
“No! Stay here, in case I have to toss her out the window to you.”
Murdock then noticed someone hurrying passed him carrying a pail of water.
“Mind if I soak this blanket?” he asked.
But Murdock didn’t wait for a response, and he dunked the blanket into the startled man’s bucket. Throwing the heavy, wet blanket over his head, he rushed toward the door of the burning building. It was then that the hysterical woman recognized the man helping her.
“Be careful, Murdy!” she screamed.
Murdock was in too much of a hurry to hear the woman, much less look at her as he ran through the door. A minute later he came out of the smoke-filled building with the little girl lying limp in his arms. He laid the seemingly lifeless girl on the ground and began giving her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation; eventually she began to cough.
“She’s gonna be okay, miss,” Murdock said.
Then the exhausted Canadian fell to the ground on his hands and knees, coughing hard to clear his lungs. After a few minutes Murdock had regained his strength, and the young mother had regained her composure.
“Oh, Murdy, thank you for saving my baby. I’ll never be able to repay you,” she said while holding the little girl tightly in her arms.
“I’m sorry, miss, do I know you?” he asked after she mouthed his name.
“You don’t remember me, Murdy? Does this ring a bell: Hi, big fella, do you want a date?”
“Jenny! Is that you?”
“Of course, who did you think it was?”
“You look so different. It’s been a few years, but time couldn’t have changed you that much.”
“It didn’t. In fact, I’ve changed very little. But what did you expect? I always dolled myself up before approaching you for a date. A girl looks a whole lot different with makeup on you know.”
“Apparently so. But you know, Jenny, I think you look much nicer this way. I might of gone out on one of those dates with you, if you had looked as wholesome as you do now.”
“Well, isn’t that a swift kick in the butt. I missed out on a good man because I tried too hard to impress him. That’s just my luck.”
Murdock laughed.
“Speaking of a good man, who did you end up marrying?”
“No one. I couldn’t find anyone as nice as you.”
This time, Murdock blushed.
“What about the little girl?” he asked.
“She’s a casualty of war, so to speak. It’s been hard, but I wouldn’t trade her for anything.”
“Are you still in the business?”
“No. After having my little Julie, I decided I wanted more. I’m in training for a higher-class line of work now. It’s been a struggle, but I only have one more year to go. I’m gonna be a….”
Just then, the wind shifted slightly and a strong gust blew heat and smoke from the fast moving fire in their direction.
“You and your daughter better get out’ta here, Jenny; and I’d better be getting back to the fire. I’ll catch you later.”
But it would be years until their paths would cross again. And, although neither Jenny nor Murdock knew it then, when their paths did cross, it would turn out to be a very fortunate thing for him and for his youngest daughter.
—4—
After saving Jenny’s girl, Murdock rushed back to help the firefighters. At 5:20, the chief saw that he looked exhausted and advised him to go home.
“It looks like it’s gonna be a long night, Murdy. You’re gonna need to get something into your stomach and catch yourself forty winks, if you’re gonna be of any use here.”
“Okay, John. I’ll do that. But I’ll be back.”
And off he rushed to be with his family.
“Are you okay, Murdy?” Margaret asked when he walked through the door.
“Never been better,” he joked.
“Mrs. Murphy told me she heard you rescued a little girl.”
“That’s right. She was Arlene’s age, and, as it turns out, I knew the mother.”
“You did? Who was it?”
“You don’t know her, Maggie. Just someone I met when I lived on Hancock Street. She used to ask me for dates every now and again. She was such a sweet little thing; and quite a tease.”
“What do you mean, she used to ask you for dates? When?”
“Every time she ran into me on Hancock Street. After the first couple of times, she did it just for the fun. When she saw me coming she’d start walking sexy-like, and she’d come up to me and start talking in this sexy voice. She used to tease me, and I used to tease her. And, who knows, maybe the little girl I saved is mine,” he joked.
“She better not be!” Margaret responded.
Murdock broke into laughter.
“I don’t think there’s much chance of that,” he said, “unless they invented a new way of making babies. Even then, the gestation period would have to be a whole lot longer than nine months. More like three years, the way I figure it.”
“God! I pray that never happens,” Margaret said. “Nine months is way long enough for me.”
The two had just finished laughing when their children came running into the kitchen.
“Papa, you smell like smoke,” Arlene exclaimed.
“Lots of people smell that way today, dear.”
“Papa, hold me,” little Leona yelled, just before she ran and jumped into her father’s arms.
“You’re gonna end up smelling like me, Leona.”
“Dat’s okay,” she said.
“You mean, that’s okay, Leona,” Margaret corrected her little girl.
Then it hit her.
“Oh my God, Murdy! I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Leona is talking in sentences.”
“Well, I’ll be. Dress me up and call me Samantha! You’re right, she is. When did that start, Lillian?”
“This afternoon, Papa, when she told you to look at the smoke. That’s the first time I’ve ever heard her talk like that.”
“Well, knock me over with a feather! I was so distracted that it didn’t occur to me that Leona was talking,” Murdock said, still amazed.
“Me either,” Margaret said.
“After we got home, Arlene and I taught her to say a few more things,” Lillian said. “Leona, what do you want to ask Mama?”
“When is supper?” the little girl asked. And after she paused to think, her eyes lit up and she spoke again: “What’s for supper, Mama?”
“Well, I’ll be. Aren’t you somethin’, Leona. To answer your question: Supper will be ready in no time, as soon as your Papa washes up. I only had time to warm the leftovers, so we’ll be having baked beans again; and, I might add, a warm loaf of homemade bread, fresh out of the oven.”
“Goodie, goodie!” Leona said.
After they sat down to eat, Margaret questioned her husband about the fire.
“I forgot to ask you, Murdy, how’s the station?”
“It doesn’t look like it’s gonna be in any real danger,” he answered. “Unless the wind shifts drastically.”
“Thank God!” Margaret exclaimed. “Where did the fire get its start?”
“Someone said it started in a shed on Broad Street; a Mr. Green’s, I believe. They say it was used to store hay and tar paper, so once the fire got started there was no stopping it.”
“But Broad Street is on the other side of the Kenduskeag,” she said quizzically.
“I know, but the wind was so strong it carried the cinders over the river, right in the direction of Exchange Street. To think, if it had been blowing just a little more toward the east, then the freight station would have likely been in harms way.”
“What about the west side?” Margaret asked.
“From what I could tell, there’s quite a bit of damage there too, especially along Broad Street. But West Market Square and parts of Hammond Street haven’t been left untouched either. Well, I best get something into my stomach, so it has time to digest before I head back.”
Murdock ate his fair share of Margaret’s baked beans and homemade bread before heading for the couch to take a quick nap.
“Wake me up at 7:00, Maggie. I’ve got to get back and help with the fire.”
—5—
Shortly after 7pm, Murdock could be seen running down State Street toward the smoke. He worked side-by-side with firemen—some from as far away as Bar Harbor and Portland—well into the early hours of Monday, fighting what would be known in Bangor as the ‘Great Fire of 1911’, a fire that devastated businesses along both the east and west side of the Kenduskeag Stream. Most damage occurred on the east side, especially on Exchange Street and York Street: a narrow, nondescript street running between and parallel to State and Hancock.
In addition to the many small businesses and dwellings that were lost that day, some of Bangor’s most important buildings were also destroyed: Bangor High School, the Post Office, the Custom House, the Bangor Public Library, the luxurious Windsor Hotel, the University of Maine School of Law library, and, ironically, even the Central Fire Station. Fortunately, of the hundreds who fought the fire, only two men died, both from the competing city of Brewer. Still, someone was overheard saying that, “the hearts and souls of many fine men were destroyed by that fire.” Among them were many of the cordial shop owners that the Haleys knew so well.
With all the devastation wreaked that day, the only consolation for the stunned Haleys was that their home and its surrounding neighborhood was left untouched by the destructive fire. Still, many of the city’s most cherished buildings were either destroyed or sullied, and that damage would take a long time to repair. Until then, the resulting rubble stood as a sad reminder to everyone who frequented the city of the ferocity of the devastating fire and of the unimaginable damage that it caused. But as they say, life goes on, and it was no exception this time, at least, not in the Haley household. Fire or no fire, Margaret and Murdock had three small children to raise and they had no time to worry about external matters.