Ohio's Holocaust

At sundown 800 long-term prisoners among the 4,950 in Ohio's State Penitentiary at Columbus marched back from supper to their cells in the west block. Guards were methodically locking them in for the night when tiny flames spurted up from nowhere, spread fanwise joined almost instantaneously into a seething mass of fiery destruction. Prisoners locked in their cells yelled for release, rattled their bars, gibbered frightfully. When the guards would not free them, prisoners on the outside seized keys, opened locks, loosed a torrent of fire-crazed men.

Thus began a terrific fire in Ohio's chief prison which Warden Preston E. Thomas was sure had been started by desperate inmates to effect a wholesale delivery. A second fire was kindled mysteriously in the Catholic chapel, a third flashed up in the woolen mills. Into the prison yard poured thousands of screaming, shouting, swearing prisoners, cowed by the flames, tempted to dash for freedom. Troops, state and federal, augmented the prison guard, pricked the crazy mob into sullen obedience with bayonets. Fire chiefs threatened to let the whole penitentiary burn down unless the warden would guarantee to protect their men. Thousands of Columbus citizens milled around on the fringe of the death-laden spectacle.

A west wind swished the flames from the west block across the entire prison. The bellowings of trapped men, grilled alive, ceased when the west block roof collapsed. Guards and prisoners worked shoulder to shoulder dragging out the dead and dying. The first fatality estimate leaped from 20 to 100, then to 200, then above 300 as body after body was lugged out of the still fiery debris.

In the outer office of the prison matters were taken in hand by Amanda Thomas, daughter of Warden Thomas, while he carried on within the walls. Miss Thomas posted guards, distributed arms, summoned doctors, nurses, troops.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.