The Great Fire of 1900 - accident or arson?
Walking on water - the famous Sandon flume and the "flood" of '55

Fire protection was a constant source of concern for many in Sandon, particularly because in the narrow valley with so little building space, most of the stores and houses were quite literally built wall-against-wall. As well, many of the streets were extremely narrow, ranging from about 30 feet (9.14 metres) on major thoroughfares like Reco Avenue, to as little as 20 feet (6.096 metres) on some of the side streets.

Like so many other early mining communities, all the buildings in town were constructed of wood, which meant any fire had the potential to tear through the entire community. To counteract this threat, by 1897 Sandon had a large two-storey fire hall with tower constructed in the downtown core, as well as a number of smaller fire sheds scattered throughout the community at various strategic locations. These sheds housed fire-fighting equipment such as hose reels, axes, shovels, ladders, buckets, and so on. As well, large triangles were hung throughout the city, to be sounded by anyone who discovered a fire.

Expensive fire hydrants were installed at regular intervals, which were hooked into the water supply of J.M. Harris' Sandon Waterworks and Electric Light Co. The system was fed by a large 60,000 gallon (227,124 litre) water resevoir located high above the city on the south side of the valley. The resevoir supplied a water pressure of 180 lbs., and with an organzized and practiced team of volunteer firefighters, residents felt the city was well prepared to meet any emergency. This confidence was soon to be proved wrong.

On May 3, 1900 a performance of "The Bitter Atonement" was playing at Spencer's Opera House in the downtown core. Just after midnight - long after the play let out - the alarm was raised. A fire had been spotted in the lot beside the opera house, and had spread to the adjoining buildings. By the time the fire department had been mobilized, the fire was already spreading, leaping from roof to roof, and even across the narrow gap of Reco Avenue. In short order the citizens were pressed into service, and the entire community fought valiantly to save their city, but it proved to be a losing battle.

The fire spread so fast, and the heat was so intense that much of the city's expensive fire-fighting equipment had to be abandoned as the firemen were driven backwards. To compound the difficulty, it was not even possible to organize a bucket brigade from Carpenter Creek, as the decision had been made two years earlier to build the flume and boardwalk that covered it over. Soon, it was obvious to all that the fire was totally out of control, and threatening to consume the entire city. Desperate citizens tried to save what they could from the flames, and in the confusion the manager of the Bank of British Columbia was able to run, unnoticed, uphill to the "Argo" mine portal, where he stashed a fortune in sacked cash.

At that point, a fateful decision was made that was to save the upper gulch from destruction. A wagon loaded with dynamite was rolled into the CPR train station and detonated, which created a fire break and deprived the flames of fresh fuel. Because of this decision, as well as wind direction, both ends of the city, the "red light" district and the upper gulch, were spared, but nearly the entire downtown core was levelled.

The one exception was a large two-storey livery barn that was filled with horses. Finding the flames were too intense to take the horses through, yet determined not to lose their animals, the miners and firemen had fought a concerted battle to save the building and, against all odds, they prevailed. Surprisingly, there was only one fatality the entire night - one man who had been standing too close when the dynamite in the CPR station was detonated. The fire itself never actually killed anyone, man or horse.

The cause of the fire has never been discovered. Some favor the romantic notion that it was an actor with the troupe staging "The Bitter Atonement" who had carelessly discarded his cigarette in a wastepaper basket. The fire did not start in Spencer's Opera House, however, but rather was first spotted beside the building. Others believe it was a case of arson that "got away", as the fire occurred on the heels of a bitter nine-month lockout by the mine owners, and feelings were running high in the community. If it was the result of arson, however, no one admitted to it.

Losses were estimated at $750,000, and included ten hotels, a bank, several cafes and stores, a printing plant, cigar factory, and the Methodist and Presbyterian churches. The losses were particularly extensive for J.M. Harris, who owned many of the properties that were destroyed, including the Reco Hotel and Virginia Block. In addition, hundreds were left homeless, and surrounding communities responded with dozens of fund-raisers to help supply everything from tents and bedding to clothes. One fundraising event alone by the Nelson orchestra raised over $1,000 for the cause.

Rebuilding occurred at an astonishing pace. J.M. Harris purchased the livery barn that had been miraculously saved, and personally oversaw its transformation into the "new" Reco Hotel. Although nowhere as grand as its predecessor, it was open for business within 60 days of the fire. Business thrived in surrounding communities as trainload after trainload of supplies left bound for Sandon and the rebuilding efforts.

The boom years in Sandon were over, however. Falling metal prices, labour strife and the recently-discovered Klondike goldfields combined to lure hundreds away from the city. As a result, the city was rebuilt on a much smaller, but more orderly scale. The city fathers decided to relocate the main street from Reco Avenue to the wider planked street which had been built over the Carpenter Creek flume in 1898, and within weeks the new downtown core was taking shape.

Despite the hard lesson that had just taken place, however, the buildings were mostly crowded cheek-by-jowl yet again and most were constructed of wood. The one exception was the Slocan Mercantile Block, which was built of brick. Most of these buildings survived into the 1950s and 1960s, when they were dismantled for their lumber following the devastating 1955 wash-out. Hundreds of buildings throughout the Kootenays are constructed with wood taken from Sandon. The only brick building in town - the Slocan Mercantile Block - currently houses the Sandon Historical Society Museum.

There are many modern misconceptions about the old Main Street flume and the eventual destruction caused by it: it was not simply a boardwalk over the creek; it was not built after the fire of 1900; and it was not destroyed in a "flood" which washed half the city away.

A "flume" is actually a four-sided structure, similar to an elongated box without ends. It is used to re-channel water for a specific purpose - for instance, to supply water for a mining operation. In Sandon's case, the flume was constructed as a means of containing Carpenter and Sandon Creeks where they passed through the centre of the community, and to provide a solution to the city's growing sanitation problems.

Because Carpenter Creek valley is so narrow, the expanding city soon found the lack of building space to be a serious problem, and real estate values soared as available land became scarce. At that point, the two creeks meandered through the city in a haphazard fashion. Following incorporation of the city in 1898, the new council decided to contain the creeks on a route directly through the city, above ground, and on a path they had never been before.This allowed the former creekbeds to be filled in, and the land used for building lots.

It also provided the city with a simple means of disposing of garbage and sewage from the downtown core and the Miner's Union hospital, and ended the growing threat of an epidemic. The Denver Hotel in the upper gulch, which actually spanned Carpenter Creek, even had a trap door in the middle of the bar room, where all the trash was swept at the end of a busy night. Although it was a simple solution by 1890s standards, no one bothered to consult with the people downstream, such as the citizens of New Denver, who now had to contend with all of Sandon's effluent washing down Carpenter Creek through the middle of town. Needless to say, such a solution would not be acceptable by today's standards!

At 14 feet wide and eight feet deep (4.26 by 2.43 metres), the final cost of the flume was $15,000. The inlet was located beside the K&S trestle; downstream, just below the present Silversmith Powerhouse, the flume took a 90 degree turn, and was joined by the Sandon Creek flume at a point near the CPR station house. Below this point, the main flume took a 45 degree turn and followed a straight line through the city, passing directly in front of the current Sandon Historical Society Museum and continuing as far as the present bridge over Carpenter Creek.

From the CPR station house to the outlet point, the flume was then planked over and became a third street on the bottom of the valley floor. On each side of the street there was also a wide boardwalk. It was after the fire of 1900 that the decision was made to relocate the city's main street from Reco Avenue to the planked-over flume, which was renamed Main Street. Indeed, in pictures following the fire, the scorched top of the flume can clearly be seen. For 55 years the strange construction served its dual purpose as a flume and a street, and it became famous far and wide. Problems were soon to develop, however.

From an engineer's perspective, the flume was a disaster waiting to happen. It was far too narrow to handle the volume of water that passed through it, particularly during the spring thaw. At the points where it made a sharp bend, or where the Sandon Creek flume joined it, the main flume was subject to tremendous strain from the rushing water, as well as providing the perfect "trap" for logs and debris which washed downstream during periods of high water. In the straight section of the flume, the rushing water reached speeds of up to 60 miles an hour (96.54 km per hour), with the result that a loose plank could cause a major catastrophe within minutes. In constant need of maintenance, the flume soon became an ongoing headache. In 1928, the 30-year-old flume underwent extensive repairs, at a cost of $15,000 - the same as the original cost of construction.

These repairs proved to be a stop-gap measure, however, and did nothing to solve the chief problems with the flume itself. In 1933 a large landslide upstream washed tons of rock and debris into Sandon Creek, which quickly plugged the flume. Unable to follow its man-made path, the water simply ran around the flume and down through the city streets, washing out large gullies and depositing boulders and debris throughout the city. Repairs were made, but again no serious effort was made to solve the flume's basic engineering problems.

By June of 1955, with the population of the community down to only about 30 people, the stage was once again set for disaster. Heavy rains on a melting snowpack in the mountains high above were bringing an increasing torrent of water down through the dilapidated flume, which was coming apart at the seams. Soon, logs jammed in the first bend of the flume, and before anyone could act, the flume was plugged with debris. In a repeat of the 1933 wash-out, water rushed uncontrolled through the streets of Sandon, gouging out gullies, undermining aging buildings, depositing debris throughout the town and tearing the aging flume to shreds. Parts of the flume were washed away down Carpenter Creek, where they caused repeated blockages and wash-outs. This caused another disaster, as the CPR rail line was undermined and washed out in no fewer than 29 places between Sandon and New Denver. This was to be the end of 60 years of rail service to Sandon, as the line was abandoned and the CPR's stranded boxcars were later removed by truck.

Since 1955, many "historians" have written dramatic, though inaccurate, accounts of this chapter in Sandon's history. There was never any "flood", the town did not wash away, and there was no loss of life. The main effect of the wash-out was to cause the remaining citizens to give up hope of rebuilding the community. Johnny Harris' widow, Alma, began to sell off her remaining buildings, which were dismantled for their wood. Soon, scavengers and "souvenir-hunters" moved in and stripped the aging buildings of their remaining artifacts. No effort was made by either the federal or provincial governments to protect the site, and it became "lumberland of the Kootenays" for 20 years. Indeed, if it were not for the efforts of Gene Petersen and a few others, there would be virtually nothing left of the old townsite at all.

Today, sections of the old flume can still be seen, sticking up in a jumble of broken wood alongside the creek where it passes through Sandon. To this day, portions of it are still visible in various spots along Carpenter Creek, all the way to New Denver. The creek now runs in a safely-dredged channel through Sandon.