July 3, 1909: As Nampans prepared to celebrate Independence Day, hanging American flags and preparing picnics, one man had something more sinister in mind. Around three in the afternoon, this mysterious stranger walked into Arnold’s Cigar Store, kiddie corner from Nampa’s now-historic train depot.
At first, he did not seem out of place; many travelers stepped off the train to grab a cigar or a quick bite before continuing their journey. After a moment of looking around the small wood-frame shop, the fellow’s attention rested on the fireworks display in the corner. The stranger picked up one of the pyrotechnics, a piece described simply as a “bomb”. After examining it, he asked the clerk who was minding the store for the price of the item. When he got his answer, the stranger nodded and told the clerk that he wanted to see how well it burned.
Without warning, a match appeared in his hand. Before anyone in the store could react, the head was struck and touched the flame to the fuse. Just then, Jack Arnold, proprietor of the cigar store, was walking through the front door. Seeing the danger, Mr. Arnold grabbed the lit bomb and tried to get it out of the store. He was just a second too late. The bomb exploded in his hands, causing minor burns and showering sparks onto the rest of the fireworks piled near the door.
The display quickly went up, setting the building aflame. Everyone inside was able to escape safely–including the arsonist, who ran off and was never seen again. As Mr. Arnold watched his business burn, the Nampa Fire Department was summoned. With the fire station less than two blocks away, they arrived swiftly. While attempting to put water on the blaze, they discovered that the water main had been disconnected. A few days before, the City Council had voted to upgrade its firefighting capabilities, causing eager work crews to already begin switching out the old wooden mains for newer pipes.
As the firefighters looked for another source of water, Mayor E.H. Dewey got on the horn to request help from neighboring towns. Boise loaded their fire truck on a flatbed train car, making the 20-mile trip in 18 minutes. Caldwell’s firefighters arrived by wagon a short time later. As the firefighters began laying hose long enough to pump water from Indian Creek, a group of business owners and citizens went building to building in advance of the flames to try to rescue merchandise and furniture from certain destruction. This plan went awry when the temperature from the blaze grew so hot that these items began to combust in the empty lots in which they were relocated. Another set of volunteers took to the roof of Nampa’s crown jewel, the Dewey Palace Hotel, to stomp out hot cinders landing on the wooden roof.
Another heat-related problem soon presented itself. Many of the buildings on the block had brick facades, but the interior structures were all wood. These wood frames combusted, and getting water past the brick proved impossible. The solution soon became clear, and the firefighters obtained sticks of dynamite. The explosions opened up the buildings and allowed the firefighters
to do their job. Despite blowing out windows for blocks around, the calculated blasts contained the blaze to one square block.
As evening fell on Nampa, its residents began to take stock of their losses. Every building on the block was destroyed—25 of them, which housed 60 businesses. The town’s Chinese and Japanese population, which had congregated their laundries and restaurants in an alley of that block, were displaced for a second time by flames in just seven years. Today, this alley is known as “Wall Street”, after the Great Wall of China. No deaths were recorded in the disaster, but the total monetary loss was around $10 million in today’s dollars, years before fire insurance was common in the Western United States.
Despite the great loss, the people of Nampa were not deterred. Planned Independence Day celebrations went off without a hitch, with the addition of a parade of business owners who lost their establishments in the inferno, holding signs calling themselves the “Cinder Club”. Picnics were held, rock drilling contests commenced, and the town’s fireworks show was even allowed to go forward—until it had to be canceled at the last minute due to wind. Rebuilding started as soon as the rubble could be cleared and kids could be paid a penny each to recover and clean any bricks to be reused. Within two years, most of the buildings were rebuilt, many with the same blueprints as the originals. Soon, the Great Nampa Fire would be a memory, proving that even complete desolation could not dampen the pioneer spirit of early Nampa.
