"YOU HAD BETTER take the car and go right home!” Mr. Wheelock urged Miss Wing. He had just come into the Tri-City Electric store after learning that a terrible fire was raging through East Davenport and was swiftly sweeping northward toward the Mount Ida district of the city. Immediately he had thought of his secretary and asked her if she did not live in that neighborhood. Yes, she did.
Hurriedly Miss Wing left the office. Outside she found the skies filled with black clouds of smoke and the streets with people, many of them, like herself, trying to get to their homes before the fire reached them. It was impossible to get onto a street car, for they were already packed with passengers, so that there was nothing else for her to do but to walk to her place. A long, steep, uphill climb for about two miles, it was always wearisome, much more so now at the close of a sweltering July day (July 25, 1901), amid the crowds that thronged the hot, dusty streets. As quickly as possible, however, Miss Wing pursued her homeward course, realizing that the devouring flames were wildly racing nearer and nearer her home all the while.
Only a very short time before Miss Wing began her slow, uphill walk — within an hour at the very most — this fire had started on the bank of the Mississippi in a little curl of smoke. When the fire company had arrived, “the fire looked harmless enough at the time — just a fire in a good-sized stack of kindling wood.ⁿ Within twenty minutes, however, it became “a crackling inferno,” threatening the entire city with destruction.
Note: “Centennial Edition” of the Morning Democrat, Davenport, Iowa, October 8, 1955 This account is substantially the same as the original report in the Same paper the day after the fire, July 26, 1901.
The fact is that the weather conditions had made such a situation not only possible but ideal. Davenport had suffered under intense heat for a long time; only the day before, the temperature had been 106°. For weeks and weeks no rain had fallen so that the city was “tinder-dry.” Now as the firemen tackled the kindling-wood fire, a strong south wind hampered their efforts and blew sparks into a pile of sawdust. From there the fire raced into a large nearby lumberyard.
“The path of tragedy had now been set. Fire crept into the huge stacks of shingles and lumber, then swiftly swirled into the sawmill, the offices, and storage barns of the company. Another alarm was sounded, more firemen raced to the scene, but the cry was up all over East Davenport that the fire had gotten away from the firemen. Hose lines burned in two, firemen were cut off from their hydrants; then, suddenly, with a roaring gust, the flames leaped across River Street and made their wild race for nearby homes and businesses.
“There was a wild stampede as residents . . . ran for their lives. The narrow streets of East Davenport were inches deep in dust. Teams and light wagons were urged through the screaming crowd. Women lost crying children from their grasp. Men yelled hoarsely. It was a scene of frightening confusion as the crowds surged up the hill to what they hoped was safety.
“Above it all was the tremendous hollow roar of the mountains of red flames. It was now twilight, but the black clouds of smoke made the scene as dark as midnight. The lumberyard that stretched for blocks was a volcano of fire. Flames climbed three hundred. feet in the air; the up-draught was so great the fiery brands of four-by-four’s and six-by-six’s were sucked into it and then flung outward to start new fires. Houses were burning on all sides of the lumberyard fine; trees were going up like matchsticks.
Houses, dry from the lack of rain, burst into flame from the tremendous heat before they were ever touched by fire. So swiftly was the wall of fire now moving that firemen were practically helpless.”
“Time and again it was seen that the stream from a nozzle was licked up by the flame before it fell on the fire. The water never had a chance to fall on the burning wood. It was vaporized in the air,” wrote the eye-witness reporter in the next day’s Morning Democrat.
“Wooden sidewalks were the nemesis of East Davenport as the fire leaped toward the hills. The walks became pathways of fire . . . [and] were blamed for carrying the flames over a ravine and up the hill. Meanwhile, houses and barns in the Mt. Ida district were ignited by burning firebrands that filled the air. By now, there was a distinct threat that the entire east end of Davenport would become a huge, raging holocaust. Visions of the great Chicago fire were in everyone’s mind.
“As a last ditch effort to save houses north of the lumberyard, dynamite charges were set to create fire breaks. The blasts thundered and rocked all of Davenport, ploughing great furrows in the ground. But the effort was useless; the flames jumped over the blasted areas, and the fire fanned out anew…
“Rock Island and Mohine fire departments were on the scene, and a hurried conference was called to try and stem the fire’s spread toward the business district. A do-or-die hose line was set up by firemen and volunteers of the three cities in the vicinity of U.N. Roberts Co….
“The buildings of that lumbering firm, previously spared by a favorable wind, were smoking by now, and employees were trying to soak them down with wet tarpaulins. If the lumber piles and drying sheds of Roberts Company caught on fire, there would be no checking the blaze as it pushed west and over the hill and possibly down to the business district. As firemen gathered hose in this vicinity for the final stand, adjoining housetops were already ablaze.”
All these details of the onward course of the fire Miss Wing could not know at the time, but when at last she reached the place where she was rooming at 734 (now 804) East 14th Street, she knew that the fire was quite near, in fact only a few blocks away. Even then the smoke from it was pouring over the house. She was confident that the house was going to burn down and rushed upstairs to her room to rescue whatever she could.
Upon entering her room, however, she could not think of one thing to do. As she stood there for a moment, she thought of her bank book. Then she saw her Bible lying on the middle of her bed, and she took it in her hand. That seemed to be all she needed.
With only her Bible she returned from the room, went downstairs and out onto the front porch. The flames of the Panoramic View of the raging fire could now be plainly seen, and the smoke was coming towards the house in thicker clouds. As she stood there watching the fire advance ever nearer, the words of Isaiah 43:2 came to her:
“Neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.”
This was God’s word to her! Raising her hand toward the threatening, uncontrollable flames, she claimed that promise by an act of faith as indeed her very own.
At that very instant, the wind changed. The place was safe!
When she realized what had happened, she re-entered the house and went to her room, placed the Bible on the middle of her bed once again, and with deep humility returned thanks to God for His mighty preservation.
At the time, however, she did not know the full extent of the miracle God had performed for His handmaiden. When the wind changed, the flames were driven toward the river where the fire shortly spent itself. Thus, not only had her own place of residence and that particular section been spared, but the ravaging fire itself had been stopped, so that the entire city had been saved from possible complete destruction.
Most significant is the testimony of the reporter in the Morning Democrat the next day: “There never was a time when the fire was under control. It ran away at its start and never was checked except at its outskirts. It was not got under control, but burned itself out. All the hose of Iowa played on that crater of fire would not have been felt.”
And again it is stated, “It seemed impossible to keep the blaze out of the main Roberts yard. Then, there seemed a lull in the wind. The sparks quit blowing, and there was time for the firemen to re-group. . . . Meanwhile, up on the hill, the fire was slowing down.”
No adequate, natural explanation could be given, but “up on the hill” a little woman had prayed, God had answered, and a whole city had been saved.
True, within three short hours or so, twenty acres of homes and business houses had been leveled to the ground, amounting in all to a loss of at least a million and a quarter dollars. The heat of the fire had been so great that it buckled the street car tracks. At least two hundred and fifty persons had been left homeless, but though a number of persons suffered burns, not a life was lost. “While it was a tragic fire, the biggest in the city’s history, it was a miraculous one, too,” concluded the Morning Democrat.
The effectual, fervent prayer of a righteous person indeed availeth much.
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Martha Wing Robinson (1874 - 1936)
Martha held meetings which touched people to return to the work of the service of God. The Robinsons opened a "Faith Home" where people would come for teaching and prayer. Like George Muller they depended on God to provide what was needed for expenses. Thousands came through her home and healings were a regular occurrence. Her husband died in April of 1916, but Martha continued in her ministry. She had a very sharp gift of discernment and regularly told people the secrets of their hearts. She often had directive prophetic words for those under her care. Many young people came to the home for training and went into the mission fields and evangelistic endeavours.Martha Wing Robinson died June 26, 1936. Shortly before she died she stated her life's message "Nothing matters but Christ Jesus." Her whole life was spent in the service of God and for the Glory of His Son Jesus. She had seen many healed, saved, delivered, empowered and sent out. She was truly a mother in Israel. In 1962 Gordon P. Gardiner wrote a book about her life called "Radiant Glory" because that is how she lived her life.