IN ADDITION TO THE FLOOD OF PERSONNEL AND SUPPLIES FROM Canadian communities, there was a major American response. It came first from US Navy ships in harbour and then by rail from Maine. Then, after a second response by the US Navy ships—this time from ships that had seen the explosion from the sea—there was a massive rail response from Massachusetts, Rhode Island, New York and, once again, Maine. The overall result was nothing short of an American invasion that, eventually, would have profound effects on the response.
A few weeks before the explosion, the US Navy had purchased the passenger ship Old Colony from the Eastern Steamship Company. The navy planned to use her as a patrol vessel. However, after consultation with the British, they agreed to turn her over to the Admiralty. While she was en route to England, however, her officers assessed she was not fit to cross the Atlantic in winter. On 22 November, she tied up in Dartmouth to await repairs. The US naval intelligence officer in Halifax, Captain H.K. Hines, notified Washington: “The commanding officer called at my office and stated that the vessel would need repairs in the engine department before proceeding to sea. I took the matter up with the superintendent of the Dockyard, and the repairs will be made here.”
On 6 December, shortly after the explosion, members of Old Colony’s crew rowed across to Halifax, joined in the rescue work, and brought some seriously injured back to their ship, which they had initially abandoned after the explosion. Before long, there were fifty-four victims on board. By mid-afternoon, when the tug Booton towed Old Colony across the harbour to Halifax, she had been joined by two other US Navy ships, Tacoma and Von Steuben. They were returning from Brest, France, when the lookouts on both ships saw and heard the explosion and notified their captains. The senior captain, Powers Symington of Tacoma, immediately radioed Washington that he and Von Steuben were headed for Halifax. They arrived about 2:30 p.m. As soon as they were cleared into the harbour, they sent a physician, R.M. Hayes, to help out on Old Colony, where Howard Blackburn, the surgeon from Changuinola, was working alone. Hayes completed the task of turning her into a fully equipped hospital ship: “We then fitted up two operating rooms with equipment found on the U.S.S. Old Glory [Old Colony] and supplied from U.S.S. Tacoma and U.S.C.G. Morrill [C.G. stands for Coast Guard], the Naval hospital and the Victoria General Hospital…. Later in the day we were furnished with three graduate nurses from the hospitals mentioned. I then notified the Superintendent of the Victoria General Hospital that we could care for one hundred patients, patients were then transferred.”
While Hayes was assisting on Old Colony, Symington reported to Rear-Admiral Chambers. At his suggestion, Symington called on Major-General Benson. Benson’s troops, assisted by marines from Highflyer and Changuinola, were providing security in Halifax, even though the men were drained from the gruelling job of rescue work and recovering bodies. As Symington related:
He informed me that the situation was very much confused, and that owing to the fact that the fronts of all stores and buildings were broken in, he was afraid there might be looting during the night and that as his men had been on duty all day, he would be very grateful if I would take over the patrol of the business sections of the city during the night so that his men could get some rest. I informed him at once that I would land two hundred men … and in conjunction with Commander Moses of the VON STEUBEN, we organized a patrol force, which went on duty at 8:00 p.m., and patrolled the city until 8:00 a.m., the following morning [7 December] …
Early that next morning I reported to the General … and asked if I could be of any further assistance. He informed me that mechanics were badly needed for putting up shelters for homeless people so I organized gangs of five men each, headed by an artificer.… These men worked all day putting in windows and assisting anyone who was willing to work.
At 6:00 a.m. [7 December], a very bad blizzard started, and blew all day until mid-night the following night. While this blizzard was blowing, shipping in the harbor became very much demoralized and the [RCN] dock yard authorities asked me for assistance. I detailed the Coast Guard Cutter MORRILL for this work and she went out the harbor to try and assist the American steamship SARANAC which was reported ashore. While the gale was in progress, the steamship NORTH WIND drifted into collision with the VON STEUBEN. Commander Moses tied her up alongside and held her there.
In the morning [8 December] I was informed that the authorities would be very grateful if I would lend a hand in searching the ruins. I again landed a large party equipped with pioneer tools to assist searching the ruins. By Saturday [8 December] relief trains were coming in and I considered our services were no longer required, although the VON STEUBEN landed two hundred men on Sunday to continue the work of searching.12
The secretary of the navy approved what the ships did, and even wired a commendation to be read to their crews, but asked that they not stay too long: “Department desires Tacoma and Von Steuben render all possible assistance. Period. Services both vessels urgently required for prosecution war and departure should not be delayed beyond time demanded by humanity. Period. Inform department probable movements. Acknowledge.” On 10 December, Cecil Spring-Rice, the British ambassador in Washington, wrote the US secretary of state to thank him for “the splendid work done by rescue parties of American seamen in aiding the sufferers from the disaster which has befallen the town.” He said the promptitude of the response was in accord to the reputation of the service. There is no evidence that in their patrol duties in the city the large landing parties discovered any looters.
On 20 June 1877, when fire devastated Saint John, New Brunswick, the first response with generous financial aid and supplies came from Bangor, Maine, the next major centre to Saint John on the European & North American railway. By 1917, the names of the railways had changed, but the links had not. There were daily trains both ways between Boston and Halifax, by way of Portland, Augusta (Maine’s capital), Bangor, Saint John, Moncton, and Truro. The railway telegraph followed the same route. As soon as authorities in Saint John lost contact with Halifax, they wired Bangor asking for telephone and telegraph equipment. Bangor responded immediately, just as it had to the Saint John disaster forty years earlier.
Before long, other states and cities were following Maine’s lead, and Maine would send even more aid. New York City, for example, sent a train with sixty workmen, $150,000 worth of lumber, 1000 portable houses, and twenty-five motor trucks. The train, it proudly announced, carried twenty-five “expert engineers who will restore what houses can be saved and direct the construction of temporary shelters.” The major response, however, came from three New England States. In the wake of the explosion, of the four states closest to Canada, only New Hampshire did not send immediate support. Maine, Rhode Island, and Massachusetts did everything they could to help. The results of those actions were felt in Halifax Saturday morning when physicians, nurses, medical supplies, and other equipment started to pour in.
As soon as he heard about the explosion, Maine’s governor, Carl Milliken, wired the lieutenant-governor of Nova Scotia, McCallum Grant: “I extend to you the deepest sympathy of the people of Maine in the terrible disaster that has stricken Halifax. Anything Maine can give is yours.” While waiting for a reply, Milliken ordered everything ready to move at a moment’s notice and—when no reply came—started inquiring elsewhere. He called Col. John Keating, the British consul in Portland. He called the War Office in Washington. He wired the British ambassador. He wired the Governor General in Ottawa. As he told a reporter later: “We have located throughout the state all the various articles now or later to be needed and also the individuals, doctors, nurses, laborers, carpenters, provisions—and have them all ready to send when word is received. We do not fear in the least any delay from red tape … but it would be equally unwise to act independently in a way that would interfere with people experienced and skilled in this sort of work.”
When none of his wires was answered, Milliken phoned Governor Samuel McCall in Boston. McCall said time was of the essence. If medical supplies were not moved immediately, they might be too late. McCall said he was sending experienced people who could report what was needed for relief, but it was crucial that a medical team leave immediately. Milliken was persuaded. He told his private secretary, Lester Hart, to summon Maine’s adjutant general, George McL. Presson, and then told both men he wanted them to go to Halifax. Hart would keep him informed and Presson would run the response. Later, Presson summed this up in his report: “No formal request for aid had been received by Governor Milliken but learning through Massachusetts channels that surgical and other supplies and bedding was most urgently needed, arrangements were made to dispatch a relief train to the stricken city.”
Presson was an optometrist and jeweller from Farmington, Maine. He joined the state guard in 1901 when he was thirty-six and rose rapidly through the ranks. In 1915, Governor Oakley Curtis appointed him adjutant-general and Milliken kept him on. By 1917, Presson was not only senior officer of the state guard but responsible for supervision of the selective service (the draft) in Maine. Once he heard Milliken’s orders—the governor was his commander-in-chief—Presson told the guard he wanted blankets, cots, and other supplies immediately. He called Major Gilbert Elliott from Brunswick and told him to get a medical team together. He discovered all were already standing by.
Thirty minutes after Presson had been briefed by Milliken, the Maine medical contingent was ready. It consisted of four full-time state guard physicians—Frederick Hill of Waterville, Thomas Foster of Portland, William O’Connor of Augusta, and Howard Garcelon of Lewiston—and four physicians from the guard reserve: Elbridge Stout from Brunswick, Joseph Murphy of Dexter, Justin Barker of Kennebunk, and Ardenne Stutt of Woolwich. When the train reached Waterville, four more physicians boarded—D.B. Cragin, P.S. Merrill, E.W. Boyer, and O.B. Ames from Skowhegan—as did four nurses: Catherine O’Brien, Elizabeth Russell, Annie Dunn, and Helen Quinn. Three other physicians—J.E. Cox and J.B. Woods, of Bangor, and C.M. Thomas of Brewer—had gone ahead. They planned to team up with their colleagues in Halifax.
While the team was en route, Milliken kept trying to reach Halifax. He wired that “on advice just received, I am sending 2,000 blankets and 1,000 cots from state military stores and 8,000 blankets from Bangor, with staff and medical officers and other assistants.” He said that carpenters and other skilled personnel were standing by. “Wire me,” he asked, “your other needs.” The 8000 blankets from Bangor had been arranged by a personal phone call from Milliken to Bangor’s mayor, John Goodwin. Goodwin dispatched to Halifax John Hennessey, secretary of the Bangor Chamber of Commerce, and A.O. Merchant of the Bangor Gas Light Co. Merchant was carrying a personal letter from Goodwin to Mayor Peter Martin of Halifax—the two were friends. Unfortunately, none of Milliken’s wires got through before the Maine train arrived in Halifax. As a result, the Maine group found itself waiting for several hours before anyone paid attention to them. As for the personal letter, it was never delivered. Merchant tried to track down Mayor Martin several times, but never caught up with him.
Although the initial assistance came from the US Navy and the initial equipment—the telephone and telegraph equipment—came from Maine, the major foreign response came from Massachusetts. When news of the explosion reached Boston, Governor Samuel Walker McCall wired the mayor of Halifax: “Understand your city is in danger from explosion and destruction. Massachusetts stands ready to go the limit in rendering every assistance you may be in need of. Wire me immediately.” When that brought no response, he tried the War Office. They knew as little as he did, so he called a meeting of the Massachusetts Public Safety Committee (it was actually a meeting of Select Men, the original democratic structure in the state). Sixty of the 100 showed up and he got their agreement that Massachusetts should act. By then, the surgeon general of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, William A. Brooks, said he could have surgical and medical supplies, surgeons, doctors, and nurses ready in a few hours, and the Boston & Maine railway said it could have a special train ready at 10:17 p.m. All the railroads involved would give that train priority. McCall wired Halifax again: “Since sending my telegram this morning offering unlimited assistance, an important meeting of citizens has been held, and Massachusetts stands ready to offer aid in any way you can avail yourself of it. We are prepared to send forward immediately a special train with surgeons, nurses and other medical assistance, but await advice from you.”
When the second telegram received no answer—like many other telegrams it did not get through—he wired again: “Realizing that time is of the utmost importance, we have not waited for your answer but have dispatched the train.” On that train were eleven physicians, ten nurses, two Quartermasters from the state guard (they had hastily put the supplies together), five Red Cross workers, and a baggage car filled with medical supplies and hospital cots. The physicians, all from the Massachusetts State Guard, were Major Harold Giddings, Major Edward Supple, Major Donald Baker (chief surgeon), Major George W. Morse, Major Peter Owen Shea, Captain Thomas Harrington, Captain John W. Dewis, Captain Robert G. Loring, Captain DeWitt G. Wilcox, and Captain Nathaniel N. Morse. There was an adjutant, Captain Edward Murphy, and two officers in charge of stores: captains Benjamin D. Hyde and Henry G. Lapham. The nurses were Elizabeth Peden, Charlotte Naismith, Marion Nevens, Mary A. Davidson, Caroline E. Carlton, Nellie P. Black, Edith F. Perkins, Elisabeth Choate, Jessie McInness, and Florence B. McInness.
To make sure that the train got through, there were four railway representatives: one each from the Boston & Maine, the Maine Central, the Canadian Pacific, and the Canadian Government (Intercolonial). There were also five people who would have an impact on later developments in Halifax: the governor’s personal representative and the expedition’s leader, Abraham C. Ratshesky; John Moors of the Red Cross; C.C. Carstens, whose articles in the American journal Survey were one of the inspirations for Samuel Henry Prince’s doctoral thesis; Katharine McMahon, who took over much of the social-service response; and J. Prentice Murphy of the Children’s Aid Society, who was to argue successfully that children who lost their parents should be found homes instead of being put into orphanages. The train had two sleepers, a diner, and a baggage car. To make certain that no one unwanted made the trip, all those boarding were given a security check—Massachusetts was worried about spies entering Canada in the guise of relief workers.
Despite engine problems and an accident that briefly blocked the line, the first part of the trip went fairly well. By Saint John, the special had passed the regular Boston–Halifax train, which had left nearly three hours earlier. (On that train was the superintendent of the Victoria General Hospital—he was visiting Boston when the explosion occurred.) In Saint John, the expedition’s leader, Ratshesky, learned about the enormous destruction in Halifax and wired Boston to send another train with glass, putty, and building supplies. In Saint John, the train was joined by some Canadians returning to Halifax, including a woman who had been campaigning for the Unionists in the election. But as the weather grew steadily worse, hopes of a record-breaking trip faded. Between Moncton and Truro, the train met a blizzard. The conductor was E.F.L. Sturdee: “East of Moncton, we came into the full force of the blizzard. It was a nightmare. The snow in some places was actually up to the windowsills of the cars. We would get stuck in the drifts and the engineer would back up, stop, race forward again and push the drifts with the weight of the train and all the speed he could gather. This continued through the night … we made the run from Moncton to Halifax in 13 hours.”
Even while this first Boston train was en route, further trains were being organized. Frank Persons of the American Red Cross wired Nova Scotia’s lieutenant-governor, McCallum Grant: “American Red Cross sending three train loads of clothing, bedding and hospital supplies and about one hundred doctors and nurses and twenty experienced disaster relief workers. Chair of our mission is John F. Moors, to whom personnel will report and supplies will be consigned. He has full authority to use resources and direct work for the American Red Cross and will put himself and all these resources at service yourself and your stricken city.” Once again there was no reply. As a result of this wire, however, a second train left Boston Friday morning with thirty physicians, seventy female nurses, six male nurses, and several officials from the Red Cross, as well as seven baggage cars containing $30,000 of medical equipment.
While Massachusetts and Maine were sending medical teams to Halifax, Rhode Island was still trying to find out what was needed. The acting governor, Emery San Souci (the governor was in England and unable to get home), wired: “Please telegraph me if there is anything we can do. Our relief forces are ready.” When there was no reply, he did nothing. Late Friday afternoon, however, the American Red Cross asked Rhode Island to provide a response team. The lieutenant-governor met with the manager of the New Haven railroad and several physicians, including Darrell Harvey, and the group started making calls. At 8 p.m. Saturday morning, a special train with five Pullman cars, a diner, and baggage car, carrying fifty physicians and seventy-six nurses from all parts of the state, left Rhode Island for Halifax. On the way, Harvey organized his team into surgical, medical, and forensic units. He assigned interns from the Rhode Island hospital as assistants. He made certain a nurse accompanied each physician.
Most of those on the Rhode Island special train boarded in Providence, but as the train headed north it was joined by others. At Woonsocket, the unit was joined by Thomas McLaughlin of the state board of health and two more physicians, Edward Tanguay and T.F. Kennedy. A nurse, Lucy C. Ayers, showed up to say she was sorry she could not come along, but she offered some knitting—a pair of woollen socks and three sweaters. “I can’t go,” she said, “but at least I can send these.” At South Lawrence, Mrs. C.C. Converse of Boston met the train with 100 hot-water bottles, overshoes for all the nurses, and a case of children’s overshoes (gifts from the Boston Rubber Shoe Co.). At Portland, five Red Cross workers and additional supplies, including 1000 cases of condensed milk, joined the train. Though the team was supposed to be a Red Cross unit, it had no red crosses. The nurses talked to the porter and he provided a discarded sleeping-car curtain. It was green, but it would do. The nurses stitched enough crosses for everyone on board and the train arrived in Halifax as the “green cross” unit.
Also on the Rhode Island train was a second medical team from New Bedford. Major Garry de N. Hough headed that team. En route, Hough realized that accommodation might be in short supply in Halifax. He got the team’s business manager, Carl Marshall, to wire the Pullman company asking if the team could use its car as its quarters in Halifax. Pullman said yes. Hough then got Marshall to wire ahead for food supplies. By the time the train reached Truro, the team had its own accommodation and enough food to last a week. Hough wired J.W. Moors of Boston, the Red Cross official already in Halifax, and told him the team could sustain itself.
Neither Maine nor Massachusetts confined their aid to medical supplies, but, as Halifax’s needs were identified, they began to adjust to what was needed. When Halifax said no more physicians and nurses were needed, Milliken called Bangor to tell the nurses on stand-by that their services were not needed. Since supplies, not medical people, were needed, it was supplies that would be sent. From then on, Maine provided everything it was asked for. Asked for glass, Maine shipped five carloads: two from Bangor, two from Augusta, one from Gardiner. When blankets were needed, the Maine Red Cross shipped thirty-five cases of blankets and clothing. When there was a call on 12 December for still more building material, Maine shipped two cars of glass, putty, and putty knives from Portland, another car from Augusta, still another car from Bangor, and two cars—one of beaverboard, one of roofing paper—also from Bangor. This continuing response was encouraged by regular wires from Lester Hart, who reported that Halifax was immensely gratified with Maine’s response, and from R.T. MacIlreith:
His Honor, The Governor,
Augusta, Maine
This committee has received with feelings of appreciation the prompt offer of assistance tendered by your honor through the Dominion government to our city in its time of distress…. The beaver board and other materials mentioned in your telegram will be of the greatest assistance to us in making temporary repairs to buildings in order to house homeless people. Shipments of blankets will also be greatly appreciated.
[Signed] R.T. MacIlreith
Encouraged by this appreciation, the people in Maine kept shipping supplies. When a train passed through Portland on Saturday, it stopped for half an hour while a Maine Central baggage car loaded with fifty-five cases of supplies was hooked on. There were nineteen cases of bedding, eight cases of men’s clothing, three cases of women’s wear, five cases of outer clothing, and seventeen cases of miscellaneous articles. In addition, there were three cases of shoes of every imaginable description. Thirty women had worked non-stop to collect the material and pack the cases. While some of the clothing was used, a lot of it was new and purchased to be sent to Halifax. Henry True Harper of the Chamber of Commerce organized the response. He had called a meeting of various organizations like the Red Cross, Rotary Club, Committee of Public Safety, and his own organization to get the response coordinated.
Maine’s later response also demonstrated that Halifax had decided what it needed by then and that messages were starting to get through. Earlier, Maine had received four telegrams in response to its offers for help. They did not arrive in the order they were sent and, as a result, gave a confusing impression. The first was from the British ambassador: “I am profoundly touched by the generous offer of the State of Maine. I have telegraphed the Governor General at Ottawa, asking him to communicate with you direct. Please accept my most heartfelt thanks. Spring-Rice. British Ambassador.” This made it sound like Maine’s initial offer of physicians and nurses was wanted. However, it was contradicted by the next wire from the Governor General, which said Halifax already had more than enough physicians but was in desperate need of building supplies. The third wire, which arrived late, seemed to overturn the second. Signed by Joseph Pope, under-secretary of state for external affairs, it accepted the offer of medical personnel and supplies. Finally, a fourth wire—the first to come directly from Halifax—was sent by MacIlreith, chair of the Halifax Relief Committee, and stated: “Our need for doctors and nurses is at present filled but may require additional help in which event I will wire you.” By the time it arrived, the first train from Maine was already rolling. As happened often in the first hours after the explosion, the problems with communication meant it was impossible to control the flow of people and goods to Halifax, because it was impossible to know that messages would get through or that they would arrive in the order they were sent.
Although the major response was by rail, there was a second American response by sea. Massachusetts chartered two ships, Calvin Austin and Northland, and sent them with relief supplies to Halifax. Some of the supplies came from Brookline, the wealthy part of Boston:
The “Special Aid Society” sent out word for good cloths [sic] for men, women and children to be sent to a room in a block on Beacon Street and before three hours rooms were piled high and the big hall was full. On sides of the street, autos were standing waiting to put off their boxes of stuff…. Many of the wealthy women of Brookline were there, working hard, for word had come from the State House that a shipment would go out that afternoon…. My nearest neighbour … brought in six coats, two overcoats, four night shirts and then said I could get a lot out in Cambridge.
Some Brookline women delivered these supplies to the docks in chauffeur-driven limousines and, before the ship sailed, took off their fur coats to be sent to the people of Halifax.
The Calvin Austin was packed with relief supplies donated by Boston residents—everything from food to used clothing, including the used fur coats. Northland carried four nurses from the Massachusetts Eye and Ear Infirmary: Harriet Harris, Amy Tilden, Emilia Arsenault, and Mrs. R. MacKenzie. The ship also brought along ten motor trucks: five Republics, three Whites, and two Stewarts—gifts from the City of Boston. The city sent along gasoline for the trucks and chauffeurs to run them until local drivers were found and trained. Although the captains were ordered to donate the supplies to Halifax, they were not told who would pay their docking fees. The Halifax Relief Committee paid those fees. Aside from the initial response from Tacoma and Von Steuben, Calvin Austin and Northland appear to have been the only response by sea. Although the harbour was open within hours, it was not used to provide relief. Calvin Austin left several days before Northland, but it reached Halifax just one day earlier. The weather was so bad it was forced to shelter in Yarmouth. The citizens there were so appreciative they welcomed the captain and passengers at a civic banquet.
While the other neighbouring states were sending supplies and personnel, New Hampshire was checking things out. Its governor, Henry Keyes, sent the head of Charities and Corrections, William J. Ahern, to assess the situation. On 10 December, he reported: “The arrival of relief trains carrying physicians, nurses and supplies, together with the work of the Red Cross and other agencies have improved conditions in this stricken city. Money and materials will be needed. All appreciate the active interest and prompt action and aid received from the United States.” Ahern did not mention that none of the aid came from New Hampshire. Eventually, New Hampshire did raise $30,000. The response from Massachusetts was in sharp contrast. In addition to sending three trains with physicians, nurses, and medical equipment, plus loading two ships with donated clothing, trucks, and other equipment, Massachusetts started a fundraising drive. Late Thursday night, immediately after the first train left for Halifax, McCall announced the appointment of a Massachusetts–Halifax Relief Committee, headed by Henry B. Endicott. Friday morning at 10 a.m., the new committee announced an appeal for funds:
Generous contributions will be needed to carry on the work of relieving immediate distress by providing clothes, medicines and the material for the temporary housing of the homeless and the suffering. Later will come the great work of rehabilitation to which we are all committed as near neighbors of the stricken city…. Cash will be required to do this, and Massachusetts may be called upon for a million dollars. Everyone is asked to subscribe generously and as quickly as possible.
Although the target was not reached, the state did raise $699,189.91. The state also gathered all kinds of supplies, including 5000 pairs of rubber footwear—even though these were in short supply due to the war. Much of the money was used to buy furniture. Surplus funds were used to improve health care in Halifax, especially the fight against tuberculosis.
When the communities of Ste. Agathe and St. Adolphe, in Manitoba, were evacuated during the 1997 Red River floods, there was not a single reported theft or break-in during the entire evacuation period. In Mississauga, Ontario, when 217,000 people were evacuated after a train derailment in 1979 caused toxic spills, crime rates fell. One of the great myths about disasters is that ordinarily law-abiding persons turn into criminals. The evidence points to the reverse. During disasters, crime rates usually fall. Despite this, officials think they must take precautions to prevent looting. That is why Major-General Benson asked the Americans to patrol the devastated area. He, like many officials today, believed that looting was likely to be a problem.
Although there are many stories of looting in the wake of the 1917 explosion, only two accounts of disaster-related crime stand up under careful examination. Both involved persons with official responsibilities. In one case, a soldier working at the morgue stole some money and effects collected from the corpses. This led to an investigation by Halifax police constable Leo Tooke. The soldier was arrested the day after the theft was discovered. The second incident was the theft of liquor from an office at police headquarters, sometime on 6 or 7 December. Civic officials, one of them an elected member of council, were later observed to be drunk. This was reported in one of the accounts provided to the official historian. It eventually became public and, in mid-January, was reported in the newspapers. No one was ever named.
Although the media tend to play up stories of looting after a disaster, most stories written after the explosion did the contrary. The reporter for the Toronto-based Daily Mail and Empire wrote that when people fled because of the reports of a second explosion, they left their valuables behind them. “To the honor of the city,” he reported, “there have been no stories of looting and shameful acts…. Stores without windows, stores filled with supplies of all sorts, groceries, meats, dry goods, men’s furnishings, gold and silverware, hardware, drugs, books, etc., with, in many instances, nothing but a strip of tarpaper to fill the great gaps made by the terrific explosion, were unmolested.” Despite this, the story’s headline wrongly implied that order had broken down and been restored: “HALIFAX FIRES ALL UNDER CONTROL ORDER RAPIDLY RESTORED IN CITY.”
Eileen Honorah Ryan’s experience supports the view that people acted charitably. She was in school at the time (and later became a Sister of Charity). When the rumours spread of a second explosion, she recalls: “Mother hung her purse on the picket fence of St. Patrick’s Boys Home [later the site of retailer Simpson’s] while she tied her shoelace. I do not recall the ‘all clear’ announcement that turned us around to go home again. But I do remember that as we passed St. Patrick’s Home, there was mother’s purse still hanging on the fence.” Dorothy McMurray, however, a stenographer for the federal Department of Public Works, and later secretary to the president of McGill University, had a different view. She had almost reached work when Mont-Blanc exploded. After taking shelter in the door of a movie theatre, she ran uphill to her sister’s school, got her sister (who was uninjured), and then headed back to her office. She intended to telephone home: “As we turned from Sackville into Barrington street [then the chief shopping and business centre], people were walking about with blood streaming down their faces from cuts by flying glass splinters, for when all the glass shattered everyone within reach of a window was immediately cut in this way. Hoodlums were looting the window displays seeking handfuls of neckties, shoes and clothing, anything that was portable.” Her statement that there was looting gets support from journalist Dwight Johnstone, who describes men clambering over the bodies of the dead to get beer from the shattered breweries, men taking advantage of the warning of a second explosion to enter stores and homes, men slipping through the darkened streets to steal rings from corpses lying in the ruins, and a woman having her fur coat stolen from her as she lay unconscious. Johnstone’s reports later appeared in Samuel Henry Prince’s doctoral thesis.
Some incidents of theft after the explosion are possible. No incident, however devastating, turns all criminals into law-abiding citizens. Dorothy McMurray may well have seen people taking things from store windows, but it is not clear whether the people she saw had criminal intent. Many victims were barefoot, even naked, and thus needed shoes and clothes. Countless were injured—neckties make admirable tourniquets or bandages. McMurray may have seen people trying to cover themselves, and others trying to find something—anything—to stem bleeding. Still, it is also possible she saw a few people, perhaps unaware of the breadth of the devastation, taking advantage of an opportunity to steal. Johnstone’s account, though, is less convincing. Many people had their clothes blown off and were desperate to cover themselves, even if they had to take a coat from someone apparently dead. Besides, Johnstone was in California during the explosion and his versions are at best second-hand. And his account of men clambering over dead bodies to steal beer seems fanciful. There were attempts to steal beer from the destroyed Oland’s brewery—soldiers shot at a few would-be beer thieves—but the incident occurred on Christmas Eve, long after any visible bodies had been removed.
In the wake of disaster, people do things that normally would be considered inappropriate and criminal. After Cyclone Tracy devastated Darwin, Australia, in 1976, police broke into service stations to steal tires. There was so much debris on the streets that the tires on patrol cars were being cut to ribbons. Without fresh tires, the police could not move. Similarly, in Halifax, survivors took supplies from drugstores and handed them out to the injured. There was no time to chat with sales clerks or ring up a purchase. People were dying and they needed bandages. These acts would normally be considered criminal. In the wake of a disaster, they are entirely appropriate.
While in Halifax looting may have been rare or close to non-existent, concerns about it were not. Teams of armed soldiers patrolled the devastated area after the explosion and, later, armed cavalry relieved them. The soldiers came into conflict with residents who wanted to visit their damaged homes, and with others who thought their status gave them the right to visit. The soldiers also suffered from the cold because of the lack of shelter in the devastated area. One of the volunteers, the Royal Military College cadet John MacKeen, became so ill with the flu that he had to abandon his hope of joining his colleagues overseas. Certainly, MacKeen was running on the last of his resources, having transported the injured and helped at Camp Hill Hospital for several days before joining the patrol. Eventually, the patrols became an enormous drain on military resources: an extra 200 soldiers were brought in to assist.
What about the soldier who stole from the bodies in the morgue? Five days after the explosion, the Toronto Daily Star ran a front-page story by Stanley K. Smith, the reporter it sent from Saint John to cover the explosion (who later wrote Heart Throbs of the Halifax Horror):
FIRST LOOTER HAS BEEN SHOT
Halifax, Dec. 11—One looter had already been shot in Halifax. His body was strapped to a post and over his head was placed a placard bearing these ominous words, “This was a looter.”
Rumors are current that others have been similarly dealt with but except in the one instance the military authorities neither confirm or deny.
“But we have no objection to the public knowing what the penalty is in extreme cases,” said Colonel Thompson, of Military Headquarters, to the Star.
Possibly the soldier was shot, but the Star’s report is vague about the details. The person quoted, Colonel W.E. Thompson, the assistant adjutant general for Military District 6, attended meetings with Benson. In the records of those meetings, however, there is no mention of looting or looters. Since there are no police records for some two weeks after the explosion, it is impossible to determine whether anyone was arrested during that period. When the record keeping started again, they were a mirror of the charges laid before the explosion: alcohol-related offences, theft, and prostitution. Even the persons charged were the same people for the same offences. Of the forty persons charged with liquor offences in the weeks before the explosion, possibly two show up on the list of the dead. Most of the bootleggers and prostitutes were in the downtown area, well away from the main impact—resting after a busy night’s work.