10/17/2026
The flames reached 4 miles into the sky that day. The firestorm bellowed with a deafening roar and travelled at a speed even the fastest horse could not outrun. It spawned its own weather with hurricane-force winds and tornadoes of fire. Glowing blobs of gas floated in the sky until they burst and rained fire on those below. More than 400 square miles burned in only 5 hours, killing hundreds and obliterating several towns along the way. The date is September 1st, 1894, the place is Hinkley, Minnesota.
Hinkley was thriving, despite the fact that barely 2 inches of rain had fallen since May. There were two train depots and the 36-acre Brennan lumber mill with 28 million board feet of cut lumber stacked in its yard. Logging had replaced the fur trade in this area of the Ojibwe homeland. Timbermen had assaulted the white pine forests at a tremendous rate, hauling away the massive tree trunks while leaving behind piles of branches and debris, known as slash.
People weren’t too concerned with the smoke hanging in the air. Small fires were common, often started by sparks from passing trains. On this day, two of those fires that had started south of Hinkley were picking up speed as they jumped from one pile of slash to another before combining forces into one blaze.
Tommy Dunn was working at his station at the telegraph office. He was confused about the lack of responses from messages sent to stations south of Hinkley. One chilling message arrived. The town of Pokegama was gone and people were dead. The telegraph was the town’s only contact with the outside world and Tommy stayed at his post that day until sending his last message, “I think I’ve stayed too long,” and perished in the fire.
Spot fires appeared at the southwest edge of town and quickly overwhelmed the fire department. Even before the towering flames of the firestorm roared into Hinkley, people were dropped in their tracks by waves of heat reaching almost 2,000 degrees. The outside walls of houses burned instantaneously, revealing the rooms inside before the whole structure went up and people’s hair and clothes burst into flames. The wagon road out of town was clogged with people and littered with abandoned baggage. Some made it to the low water of the sawdust-covered Grindstone River near the mill. Most were simply moving too slow.
At 3:25 a train rolled up to the Eastern Minnesota Depot driven by engineer William Best. He could see that everything beyond the yards was on fire and a crowd of people was streaming toward the train. In the town Dr. Stephan ran through streets lined with burning buildings and grabbed lost children two at a time before handing them to strangers boarding the train and going back for more.
Engineer Edward Barry was with his freight train on a sidetrack. It was decided to couple Barry’s locomotive to the back of Best’s train along with three empty boxcars, which were soon filled with terrified refugees. Best, now at the back of the train, applied the airbrakes to keep Barry from moving the train until more desperate people could reach the cars. Soon, the burning ties were warping the rails, endangering the entire train and Best released the brakes. Just after 4:00 PM the train rumbled out of Hinkley with a locomotive on each end, both facing backwards.
As well as the fire chasing the retreating train, there was the danger of collapsing trestles and bridges. The largest was the Kettle River High Bridge at Sandstone. This was a spindly structure 850 feet across and 130 feet above the water. As the train approached, they could see flames and smoke coming from the gorge below. The train, carrying around 500 refugees, crept forward making it across the bridge just before it collapsed into the river below.
At 4:05, as Best and Barry were backing away from the Eastern Minnesota Depot, James Root’s train was slowly approaching Hinkley through the thick smoke on the Saint Paul and Duluth tracks across town. He braked hard when he saw a crowd of people running towards him through the thick smoke. Some were black with soot, others had their clothes nearly burned off, and some were babbling incoherently with fear. A man finally explained to the confused Root that all of Hinkley was on fire.
A porter on Root’s train, John Blair, began helping people board the train. Blair was probably the only African American on the train at a time when railroads were hiring Black men as porters because they would show deference to the white passengers, some of these men having been previously enslaved. On this day, the passengers would remember Blair for his incredible courage, strength, and calm in their time of crisis.
Root could see a wall of flames racing towards the train and threw it into reverse. Grease at the bottom of the cars had ignited and they were beginning to burn. As they passed the lumber mill there was a massive explosion. The train rocked and the windows on one side blew out. In the locomotive shards of glass sliced into Root’s face and neck and he slumped over the controls unconscious as the train slowed to a crawl.
Root’s fireman, Jack McGowan, managed to revive him and the train started moving again. The windows on the other side imploded and flames licked across the ceiling above the hysterical passengers. Blair moved through the cars calming people, helping them hold wet towels to their faces, and spraying their clothes with a chemical fire extinguisher.
Flames from the bottoms of the cars were reaching over the roofs when Root slammed the train to a stop by Skunk Lake, not much more than a muddy swamp with about three feet of water at its deepest. Crew members threw water on the steps so the nearly 200 passengers could get out of the burning train to take refuge in the lake where they survived the fire.
The official death toll of the Hinkley Firestorm was 418, but this didn’t count the unknown number of Ojibwe and backcountry folks who lost their lives. In the town, many bodies were burned beyond recognition and 248 are buried in four trenches in a cemetery east of town, where a monument was erected in 1900. The depot in Hinkley was quickly rebuilt to allow relief trains to reach the site and is now the Hinkley Fire Museum where a dedicated group of volunteers make sure that the events and people of the Great Hinkley Firestorm are not forgotten.
The post got longer than most that I put up. Even editing it down to this length felt disrespectful to the stories of survival and heroism I had to leave out.
Images: The historic depot, now the home of the Hinkley Fire Museum, the replacement for the Kettle River High Bridge that collapsed after the Best/Barry train passed over, and the trenches and monument to the victims of the Great Hinkley FIrestorm.
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