Snippets of: Metz, Michigan

Metz is an itsy-bitsy little town on the North part of the Southern Michigan Peninsula. I discovered Metz while researching for my previous post about Michigan. As I mentioned in that post, I was impressed with the culture of character that the Michiganders seemed to have. The story of Metz is a clear-cut picture of that character. They are, or were, a people who care about other people by their actions even more than by their words. Unfortunately, heroes only seem to be heroes when there is disaster, tragedy, or trouble. On the morning October 15, 1908 a fire broke out near Metz. No one knows what began it, and no one really thought much about it at the time. Those living in Michigan were used to seeing smoke. Local farmers and logging companies set fires to clear brush almost daily. Perhaps they ought to have paid attention though. Historically, it seemed to be a month of fires in the entire region. On October 8th, 1871 a huge fire had erupted in Wisconsin, their neighboring state on the left. It had destroyed 2.5 million acres. On the same date was the Great Chicago Fire. Since then, few efforts had been made to restrict fires. The conditions in October 1908 were prime for fires with steady winds and hot weather. In 1908, the town of Metz had only been a town for 30 years. The population of the entire county was only about six hundred, mostly of German and Polish ancestry. One family, the Hardies, had a small farm. Railroad tracks crossed one corner of the farm. The Hardies had 8 children ranging from ages 16 to 11 months. Henry Hardie was 10 in 1908. At school that day, Henry noticed the fire. The smoke, which had earlier been a normal amount, was now rising up in huge billowing columns. Henry described them as 'great big pillars.' The steady winds drove the smoke in closer. By noon, the smoke covered the entire town, although the actual fire was still miles away. Still, no one really paid attention. It was just the wind blowing the smoke from a brush fire. Then, about an hour later, a sudden sense of gloom seemed to grasp the parents and they rushed to school to collect their children. By two, all the children had been released. At about the same time, the station master called Detroit to send an evacuee train to the rescue. What no one knew at the time was that a wall of fire literally surrounded the town. Families returned home to collect their possessions and then they went to the train station to wait. The Hardie family put their family heirlooms in a trunk and buried it on the property. When the train arrived, departure was delayed as the forty to fifty families loaded up. Most families rode in an open-top steel car. It was thought that the steel would resist the fire. One car contained hemlock bark. As the train left, they could begin to see the fire. It spread on both sides of the track. It became very dark. Only a mile out of town, the train was confronted by what is called a 'crown fire.' A crown fire is a fire that is in the tops of the trees. The train engineer had no choice but to drive straight through. As they went through the fire, its sparks set flame to everything flammable in the refugees possessions. For a quarter of a mile, hair and clothing was continually catching fire. Only a few seconds later, the train went through another fire. The car containing the load of hemlock bark was flooded in flames. Two refugees, the Nowickis, had asked to be let off at their homes further down the track. As the train began to slow however, it was seen to be an impossibility. Farther ahead, more trouble waited. The smoke hid the problem from sight. Incredible heat had warped the train tracks. Newspapers called the fire 'the hottest fire and densest smoke ever seen by mortals.' When the train hit the warped part, it went off the tracks. In panic, most jumped off the train. Henry, his father, and his brothers did too, but they became separated. Mrs. Hardie and the four daughters stayed on until Mr. Hardie had a chance to check on conditions. Two of the daughters however, bailed out by holding on to the coattails of a man about to jump down. Henry, his brother, and his cousin, grabbed a blanket and threw it over their heads to help them breathe. On the ground, Mr. Hardie found his two daughters. Mr. Hardie determined to return to the train to help his wife. He first placed his daughters in an open field covered in burning tree stumps. They were found by the Zimmerman family. When Mr. Hardie returned to the train car, a burst of flame rendered him temporarily blinded. The heat of the steel car made the task impossible. Meanwhile, the three boys with the blanket ran through thirty feet of flame, using the blanket as a shield, until they broke through to the field where they found their sisters and other refugees. Later, in the ashes, Mr. Hardie found one thing. His wife's wedding ring. He told his boys something that Henry never forgot: 'Now we have no Mama, and no sisters.' Mr. Hardie later married another survivor of the disaster. The Zimmerman family survived for one reason. John Zimmerman refused to place his family on the rescue train. Instead they stayed home. After attempting to save the house by soaking it in water, Mr. Zimmerman wrapped wet quilts around his children and sent them to an open, newly plowed field. They also buried cans of food and loaves of bread. The horses and cows were removed to the field. Then, Mr. Zimmerman remained at the house and continued to try to keep the house from catching fire. When at last it was useless, he started towards the field. He almost didn't make it. The smoke and flames had been too much and he stumbled and fell. His children dragged him the rest of the way. The Zimmermans built a small shelter in their field. They were able to help the refugees from the train, including the Hardies. Each family helped someone else. The other refugees and donors from around the country pooled together and gave one new mother a baby carriage, clothing, and blankets. The town of Metz was completely destroyed. Only the schoolhouse remained standing. In nearby Bolton, only the church was left. The Metz fire directly influenced law makers to restrict fires in Michigan. About fifteen people died on the train. Most were very young children. About twenty others died in other areas of the fire. In spite of the fact, the people of Metz returned. Today Metz itself has about 300 people living there. The Hardies, reunited, rebuilt their house and farm. They also dug up their family heirlooms. The trunk stayed in the family for generations as a double reminder of the tragedy, and the pioneering strength of the Hardies and other families who returned, in spite of it all. So, maybe not everyone survived, and maybe some heroics were thwarted, I'd still say that those people were heroes, not because they saved lives, but rather because they helped each other in the face of their own need, and because they didn't let it get them down. I'd say that it's not the buildings that make a town, but rather the people who live there. (This has been, Snippets of Metz. Look in next time to read: Stories of My Life:__)