The steel strike disorders everywhere were terrifying experiences for the news photographers. At Warren, Ohio, three cameramen, Charles Wilk, Cleveland manager of Wide World Photos, Mack Baron, of International News, and Jack Hines, Associated Press staffer, were fired upon and dropped into a ditch as bullets whizzed over their heads. At the time, they were taking pictures of a food airplane landing in the Warren steel plant enclosure.

Dodging bullets in the steel strike was just one of the many thrills experienced by Baron in his long career as a news cameraman. “Buck,” as he is popularly known, has oftimes been called the “ace flying photographer,” and the “fearless photographer,” and has lived a veritable charmed life amid the dangers of his career. He has taken the longest chances but has always come out on top. “It can’t be done,” are words that are as unknown to him as a Tibetan chant. Now the Morro Castle disaster. . . . Buck will smile proudly when he recounts that experience. It brought him his greatest fame.

Sweeping low out of a thick mist and rain, Mack Baron, International News photographer, made this first picture to be taken of the burning steamship Morro Castle off Asbury Park, N. J., in 1935, in which 134 passengers and members ot the crew perished. Note lifeboat with survivors in foreground waiting to be picked up by rescue vessel. Later other photographers appeared over the scene, but Baron and Pilot Bill Gulick had already landed at North Beach, Long Island, with the negatives which -were rushed by motorcycle to the New York office foi an outstanding picture beat.

The phone jangled wildly in the bedroom of Baron’s home in Sunnyside, Long Island, one early morning in September, 1934. Buck stirred several times in bed, then finally forced himself to answer the phone. He switched on the light, glanced at the time (it was a little after three), then glued his ear to the receiver. It was his office calling: “The liner Morro Castle’s afire off the Jersey coast. May be hundreds dead. Get down to North Beach airport right away. We’ll have a plane ready for you to hop off at daylight.” Instantly Buck was alert.

As he fairly dived into his flying equipment, he took one glance at the window. Rain was slashing at the panes. “Flying weather, eh? Well, maybe. . . .”

When he reached ‘the airport in his car, everything was ready. Bill Gulick, a pilot for the O. J. Whitney Flying Service, had already warmed up his plane. They then waited for daylight. Dawn came with hardly a break in the weather. A misty rain was falling. They stepped outside the hangar door and could scarcely see an object ahead of them. Both shook their heads. Bill was game to take a chance and go out a little distance. They started and pretty soon were in the thick of it. Baron could barely see the outline of the wing tip in the heavy fog and rain. They kept on going.

The pilot had secured the approximate position of the burning ship before he left the hangar. An accurate judge of the distance and familiar through years of flying with the lay of the land below him, Gulick nosed his plane toward the Jersey shore and kept on going. There was no going back so long as the gas held out.

Buck sniffed. There was a strong smell of smoke in the air. They must be somewhere near the burning liner. The pilot turned the plane in the direction from where the smoke was drifting. Then suddenly, the mist lifted, the clouds rolled back, and the sun came through. They had a perfect visibility from an altitude of 500 feet. There, not a half mile away was the ill-fated ship spouting flames and smoke.

They circled the Morro Castle, and Baron obtained about twelve shots in less than six minutes. They came down to about deck level of the burning ship for a few closeups. They could see a handful of persons clustered on the bow of the ship, waving frantically to them. A half-filled lifeboat was pulling away. They were grieved that they could not aid in the rescue, but they realized they were helpless. Two passenger ships and an oil tanker nearby was a welcome sight. Buck asked Gulick to nose down so that he could get a fairly good closeup. The heat was intense and the smoke nearly choked them. Several times they almost went into a spin, but Gulick’s able pilot- ing kept the plane going over and round the ship until Buck had used all his plates. Then they turned north- ward.

The return trip was more dangerous. The fog had returned, and with it a squall with rain. The weather was getting worse each minute. They figured the best thing to. do was to fly as low as possible and follow the shore. Many times they fairly skimmed the waves. A crash seemed inevitable, but, finally, with sighs of relief, they sighted the houses in the vicinity of North Beach air- port. They came down to a safe landing.

At the airport Baron learned that a half dozen planes had tried to take to the air but were forced to return. It meant that his pictures were exclusive. An hour later the prints were rolling off the ferrotyped machines to be rushed to newspapers all over the country. It was fully an hour after that before another plane with photographer flew over the ship. It was one of the finest picture scoops in history.

Later, Baron’s thrilling pictures were introduced at the inquiry into the disaster. His outstanding shot, the one showing flames and smoke rolling upward from bow to stern, won him the National Headliners Award for the best news photograph of the year.

Any moment of the day or night may bring a flash of another story like the Morro Castle fire, the Argonaut mine disaster, a strike riot, a train wreck, an explosion. Everywhere the men with the cameras are prepared for the dangers, the thrills, the privations. They seek no acclaim, want no special awards. They will modestly tell you: “It’s just part of the day’s work!”

On December 17, 1884, Hiram Gregg Smith married Julia Geeslin in Rutland, Iowa.  There first child, Caroline (Carrie) was born shortly thereafter sometime in 1885.  Their second child, Leta Ethel Smith was born May 30, 1887.  Following Leta was John William Smith on August 3, 1889.  Benjamin H Smith was then born sometime in 1891 followed by Franklin (Frank) Edward Smith on February 27, 1893.  The sixth and final child, Sumner (or Summer) Smith was born sometime in 1896.

In the beginning, the family was living in Weaver Township where Gregg was a farmer. His parents, Caroline Elizabeth and Benjamin H. Smith were nearby. By 1895 they were living in Gilmore City as were his parents. .  Then by 1900 the young Smith family had moved to Webster City.

By 1910, Julia and Gregg had divorced and went their own ways.  Julia remarried  sometime after 1910 and became Julia Davis.  At this point, I do not know who she married or where she moved to.

In 1920, we see Gregg remarried to a woman named Ella and was living in Placentia California which is in Orange County.  His step daughter Josephine McKaughan was living with him and his new wife.Vy this time Gregg had become a plumber for an oil field.

On December 4, 1926, Hiram Gregg Smith was killed in a horrific industrial accident which was covered by the local newspapers.

At the time of his death, it appears that his mother, Caroline Elizabeth Smith was living in Santa Fe Springs, California.  The newspaper coverage also tell us that his sister Kate Young and brother Boyd Smith lived nearby.  There was no mention of the family he left behind in Iowa.

Many years ago, my Uncle told me a story of my Great, Great Grandfather Henry William Lewis and how he had witnessed the beginning of the Civil War.   This  story was always very interesting to me so I decided to do some research into the events of that day. There are actually many very interesting stories about Henry William Lewis that I will write about in the future, but today’s story is about his time aboard “The Nashville” and it’s role in the start of the Civil War.    The history books and buffs have many versions of how things happened that day in Charleston Bay in relation to the Nashville. But thanks to an interview with H. W. Lewis, published in “The Sun”, a New York newspaper, on May 16, 1897, things become much clearer.

Henry William Lewis was a crewmember of the Nashville in April 1861.  It was one of several ships owned by a merchant company out of New York.  The Nashville was built in Greenpoint, New York, in 1853.  She was a 1221-ton side-wheel steamer and was originally built as a passenger steamer.  In 1861 she was making merchant runs between New York and Charleston, South Carolina. In fact, she was due in Charleston Harbor on April 14th with a load of goods, the day after the South bombarded Fort Sumter.

Now, the Harriet Lane, which had been transferred to the U.S. Navy for a second time in March 1861, left New York City with the transport ship Baltic and warships Pocahontas and Pawnee.  They were on an expedition sent to Fort Sumter near Charleston, South Carolina.  Their mission was to supply and support the Fort Sumter garrison as tensions were rising between the North and South. The expedition departed New York on April 8th, 1861 and arrived off Charleston on April 11th.  Now the Southerners had heard that the Harriet Lane and her sister ships were on her way, so tensions were rising fast.

Somehow, the Nashville had passed the Harriet Lane and her sister ships and arrived in Charleston Bay before them.  It was 4:30 in the morning on April 12 and Henry Lewis was the lookout on board the Nashville. The Nashville was just outside Charleston harbor, near a sand bar when the confederate battery on Morris Island fired a round at the Nashville, thinking she was the Harriet Lane. After all, the Nashville and the Harriet Lane were roughly the same size and had similar riggings.  Captain Murray of the Nashville gave the orders to ”retire from the bar” immediately.  At this point he knew that if he had continued in, he would have faced certain destruction.

So, the Nashville began it’s move away from the bar in retreat from the harbor, when it suddenly encountered the Harriet Lane. According to the interview, Captain Murray did not want the ships paper examined.  Probably because some of the goods being delivered to the southern port included ammunitions.  So Captain Murray of the Nashville ordered his Chief Engineer to “shake it up” in an effort to out run the Harriet Lane. According to the many accounts, the Nashville was not flying its colors so the Captain of the Harriet Lane fired a “blank” shot in a signal for the Nashville to stop, but the Nashville continued trying to move away.  So the Harriet lane swung around broadside and fired a “solid” shot across her bow.  Captain Murray then ordered his Chief Engineer to stop all engines and to come around.

According to the United States Coast Guard web site, the phrase “The Desired Affect” comes from the Harriet Lane and it’s encounter with the Nashville.  When the Nashville shut down its engine and came around, the captain of the Harriet Lane remarked that their shot had “had the desired effect.”

The story told by H W Lewis indicates that the Captain of the Harriet Lane simply asked some perfunctory questions of Captain Murray, and that was it.  The Nashville then raised the American “colors” and was allowed on its way.  But the two ships then sat on the bar together and not only watched the first shots fired against Fort Sumter, but the entire thirty-six hour bombardment.

When Major Robert Anderson surrendered Fort Sumter on Saturday, April 13th, the Harriet Lane withdrew with her sister ships back to New York.  On Sunday, April 14th, the Nashville lowered its flag and entered Charleston harbor

Henry Lewis, Captain Murray and a few other crew members took a rowboat over to Fort Sumter.  The only souvenir of the historic event he collected was a single dented grapeshot fired by the confederate batteries in the harbor.

In early May, 1861 her owners communicated their intent to the new Confederate government to outfit the ship as a privateer ship. However, the Confederate government had plans of its own. Needing a fast vessel to bring needed supplies from England and possibly transport Confederate Commissioners to England, the new nation authorized the purchase of the vessel for $100,000. Actually, I don’t think the company was given a choice.

Appointing Robert C. Pegram as her Captain, and others of the Confederacy as her officers and crew, the C.S.S. Nashville became the first vessel commissioned by the Confederacy. At this point it is difficult to determine what happened to Captain Murray, Henry W. Lewis and the others. They are not listed as initial crew members of the CSS Nashville so I think they were either taken as prisoners or allowed to return to their homes in New York.

Under Captain’s Pegram’s command, the CSS Nashville slipped out of Charleston Harbor in October 1861, making its first run to Great Britain by way of Bermuda.  When the ship arrived in Bermuda, there is “testimony” in one source that they had to convince the Bermuda officials that it was not a warship.  They apparently succeeded as they were eventually allowed to re-coal in Bermuda.  This began the CSS Nashville’s career as one of the most elusive Confederate privateers.

The CSS Nashville captured and burned the sailing merchantman Harvey Birch in the English Channel on November 19, 1891, and spent some time at Southampton, England. Returning to American waters early in 1862, she captured and burned the schooner Robert Gilfillan on 26 February. Two days later, she ran the blockade into Beaufort, North Carolina, remaining there until mid-March, when she went to Georgetown, South Carolina

She was eventually sold to private interests and renamed the Thomas L. Wragg.  She operated as a blockade runner, but was hindered in this employment by her deep draft. She was again later sold in November 1862, to become a privateer under the name Rattlesnake . On 28 February 1863, while still in the Savannah area, she was destroyed by the monitor USS Montauk.

Summary

What is interesting is that most books acknowledge the shot made by the Harriet Lane as the first shots fired in the Civil War.  But according to my research, it was really the shot from the batteries on Morris Island that kicked off all the excitement.

Resources & References

• The Sun Interview with H.W. Lewis
• The History of The Nashville
• The Case of Great Britain as Laid Before the Tribunal of Arbitration
• The CSS Nashville
• The USS Revenue Cutter Harriet Lane
• CSS Nashville – Civil War Confederate Naval Ship
• The Cutter Harriet Lanes Fires Across The Bow Of The Nashville
• The Crest of CGC HARRIET LANE

The earthquake shock was felt from Coos Bay, Oregon, to Los Angeles, and as far east as central Nevada, an area of about 375,000 square miles, approximately half of which was in the Pacific Ocean. The region of destructive effect extended from the southern part of Fresno County to Eureka, about 400 miles, and for a distance of 25 to 30 miles on either side of the fault zone

And at 3354 Clay Street in downtown San Francisco, John L. (Jack) Tierney and his wife Isabella survived the destruction of the entire city around them. The earthquake occurred just two days before John’s 42 birthday.  In a letter dated April 26, 1906, John wrote his nephew Frank to let him know that he and “Aunt Bella” were OK, albeit Isabella was “very nervous at first, but is getter better”. John went on to write “about five square miles is completely destroyed.  All office buildings, hotels, retail and  jobbing houses are gone – our residential district saved”.

3354 Clay Street as it looks today