“MR. PATTERSON, LONG MAY YOU LIVE...”
John H. Patterson and The National Cash Register Company
Many lives were saved during the 1913 flood due to one man’s efforts, John H. Patterson, President of The National Cash Register. As shown in an earlier chapter, Patterson began making preparations to turn his company into a makeshift rooming house, hospital and kitchen even before the water had broken through the levees protecting downtown Dayton. He became a hero, not only in Dayton, but throughout the country as word of his deeds were repeated in newspapers and magazines. They told of the fact that, even though he was 68 years of age, Patterson joined in relief effort, personally taking a boat and helping rescue people stranded in their homes in the southern section of the city.
Patterson’s children, Frederick and Dorothy, were of great help to the city as well. Frederick rescued many flood victims, while Dorothy was in charge of feeding the thousands of Daytonians who were without food since local grocers did not have the means to restock their stores due to trains being unable to enter the city.
JOHN H. PATTERSON
On March 27, 1913 John H. Patterson, wired the New York Times, explaining the situation in Dayton and asking for help in the form of motorboats, food, clothing and medical supplies.
Situation here desperate. All people except on outskirts imprisoned by water. They have had no food, no drinking water, no light, no heat, for two days. We have had no house-to-house communication by telephone for two days. Dayton water works stopped two days ago. Fire raging 24 hours in center of city and now spreading. Beckel Hotel burned. Weather suddenly cold with strong wind and snow. Water current too strong for rowboats and rafts. Need help that can reach us today from nearby cities. Help should be in the form of motorboats and people to man them. Need good row-boats. Need troops for protection and help. Need fire engines and motor trucks and automobiles. Also provisions, clothing and medical supplies. Our factory safe. Has its own power, heat, electricity and water plant. We and private houses are caring for many people, but they are only small part of sufferers. We cannot reach central, northeastern, northern or western parts of the city, consequently cannot answer many telegrams of inquiry about safety of people that are coming in. Railroads reaching Dayton practically all out of service.
On April 1, 1913 John H. Patterson wired Secretary of War Lindley Garrison explaining the food situation in Dayton.
We find that we wholly underestimated the food peril. The wholesale grocers are unable to obtain supplies, and the retail grocers have nothing left to sell to the people. Instead of having to feed forty thousand people we now have to feed the whole city of one hundred and twenty thousand. It will be several days before the regular channels of trade are opened and we have not enough supplies on hand to last us twenty-four hours. May we not depend upon your ordering a million rations to Dayton at once?
Garrison granted Patterson’s request.
On the day of the flood, there was an Agent’s training class being held at NCR. Members of this class volunteered to help with relief and rescue efforts. They were later asked to write to John H. Patterson and tell of the various duties they had performed during this time of need. A sampling of those letters follow. All were written in mid-April 1913.
HERBERT E. S. HUMBERT
In giving my experiences during the awfully flood in this city I must write about you to a large extent for had it not been for the example which you set at Main St. on Tuesday, March 25th, I confess that I would not have had the nerve to fight the current and bring the marooned people to shore and safety.
Tuesday, March 25, I assisted you on Main St. for about two hours. Then in the company with two other N.C.R. employees, whose names I do not know, I succeeded in bringing twenty-two women, children and men to shore. We had several thrilling experiences, such as being drifted down stream with four women in the boat, and in our desperate effort to get out of current we broke two of our oars and left us with only two others to man the boat. Some driftwood… swirled round carrying us with it until we were able to catch onto a house and pull ourselves out of the current. We got to shore safely put the ladies in the hands of men on shore got more oars and went back again, working until night set in.
Wednesday, the 26th, at 5:15 a.m. I was again at the same work this time in company with Mr. Barber of my class. We succeeded in bringing a number of people to shore, feeding others that wanted to stay in their houses as they thought themselves in no great danger. Also the removing of five ladies and four men from a floating roof, where they had been marooned all night with fire not thirty feet away from them, was very dangerous and could not have been accomplished had the women been in their normal state of mind for they would not have obeyed our instructions…
JAMES B. LOGAN
March 25th … Mr. Primmer…asked me to assist him in locating the boats and get information in regards to how many and where they were. Returning to the factory at 11 AM [Wednesday] I was requested to place registers on the different floors so as to give a receipt for meals served in the dining room and make a report to Miss Dorothy Patterson as to the number. Upon my first report she asked me to assist her in the work…Under her direction I worked until the last Sunday of serving the meals...
CHARLES H. LARGE
…was marooned in the Beckel Hotel from Tuesday until Friday during the fire and flood. Upon my arrival at the factory Friday morning I was assigned to duties as assistant to Mr. Blacklock in charge of the morgue which was then located in the N.C.R. Garage; remaining in this capacity until reopening of the Agent’s School on Wednesday April 9th.
GEORGE E. LISCOMB
On Tuesday March 25th, I was engaged from noon until 11:00 PM in the vicinity of So. Main St. and the water’s edge, first in an attempt to stretch ropes across the current, later in taking people from the homes by means of company boats and in the evening in patrol work.
On Wednesday morning early, we laid ladders down Main St. and carried several people ashore. Later I rowed a Cincinnati Post man through the nearly flooded districts at the suggestion of Mr. Dilkes.
On Thursday…Mr. Rhoades and I carried distilled water to the marooned firemen at 5th & St. Clair sts., also assisting some people ashore in that neighborhood.
L. M. LEBENSHUGER
On Tuesday morning March 25 I assisted at the corner of Apple and Main Sts. in getting the refugees to automobiles and taking them to the N.C.R. office building, in the afternoon several of us went around in the neighborhood of the factory securing all the clothes we could get to cloth the sufferers.
On Wednesday I assisted in anywhere in the Office Building where I could be of any assistance. On Thursday I was stationed at Stivers High School Relief Station…on Friday morning I secured an automobile and went in search of my wife and baby, who had been marooned on W. Monument Ave. which, when reaching there I found that they had been rescued on Thursday and taken to a place of safety.
Hundreds of letters and telegrams were sent to John H. Patterson thanking him for his kindness during the flood.
FRED SWINNER
Mr. John H. Patterson,
Our good Friend;
Wherever I go I hear the nice things you have done for Dayton.
I am ten years old and the only son of the late Arnold F. Swinner.
I said to my mother that I would like to do something real nice for Mr. Patterson and she said “The only thing you can do now Fred is to thank and pray for him the rest of your life.”
Thanking you with all my heart dear Mr. Patterson. I am,
Your little friend,
Fred Swinner
GRACE D. HEDDERICH
My mother and I were in North Dayton last week with water to the second floor in the house where we were staying. We had very little to eat and our suffering would have been intense had it not been for what you so kindly sent.
You have certainly shown what a noble man you are and will get your reward in some way for what you have done.
There cannot be a person in Dayton that does not appreciate your kindness during this trying time-
I thank you most sincerely for what you did for us –
I am
Most gratefully
Grace D. Hedderich
THEODOSIA E. HOSKINS
Kind Sir: - I take the liberty of sending to you a poem which I wrote.
The Colored People were also recipients of your kindness, during the great calamity of a few weeks ago.
Being a member of this race, I feel to express to you appreciation.
While this poem may be deficient in many ways, it was written in a spirit of gratitude.
Respe’t,
Miss Theodosia E. Hoskins
I.
From all this wreckage and ruin,
There’s oceans of courage a brewin’
And spewin’ from the hearts of men.
While the victims of this great flood,
Are workin’ to move this awful mud
They stop, and cheer John Patterson ever now and then.
II.
The laws have tried to down him,
But he stands up with a vim,
And today he rules supreme in Dayton minds;
We knew him to be keen,
About the N.C.R. Machine,
We thought him great along this line.
III.
But when the water was in full sway,
He started relief work the same day,
And made headquarters at his plant.
He waded into the water,
To save some mother’s son or daughter,
And to-day they lift their voices in cant.
IV.
For this man who’s bereft of all vanity,
And so willingly relieves suffering humanity,
They give him the praise that’s due.
Of heros young and old,
He’s proven himself pure gold,
By standing ever staunch and true.
V.
Mr. Patterson, long may you live,
And continue ever to give,
Such noble traits of manhood to all men;
And when thy summons come,
Saying thy work on earth is done,
May thy good deeds blot out every sin.
VI.
A statue they may make for you,
To show their love, and appreciation too,
But some day it will crumble to the ground.
We glory in the statue you will erect,
Which will be so beautifully bedecked,
With gems of love. Through all time this will stand good, and sound.
J. FRANK BROWN
J. Frank Brown wrote a letter to his mother, Abia C. Miller, on March 27, 1913 telling of how he helped put out Dayton’s first newspaper at NCR during the flood.
We heard the whistle blowing and got up and looked out, thinking it was a fire, but there was no light to be seen and so we went to bed. It was then blowing and raining something terrible. I came to work here at the [National] Cash Register Plant Tuesday, when the whistle blew at 7:30 again, and we all quit work, with instructions to go out and help strengthen the levees. No use; word came down from business section that the other levees had gone, and my, what a flood.
We stood on high ground and saw horses come down the river and drown. Four men on a raft hit a bridge not fifty feet away; never saw them above surface again.
We were standing like thousands of others in a regular cyclone and deluge of water and lightning, but did not mind, as we were simply appalled and helpless in a torrent like that. Not long after that we were looking at an immense fire in the heart of the business district. (Now that was on Tuesday. To-night Thursday) I am still looking at an immense fire in the same district.
I work here in the advertising department of the National Cash Register Company, in a building ten stories high. Mr. John H. Patterson, the President, has turned the whole building into a hotel and hospital. He has over 3000 here now sleeping on straw covered with blankets, in hallways, offices, everywhere they can lie down, and feeding them regularly three times a day, all at his expense.
I was called back to work Tuesday night at nine o’clock, worked all night getting out special papers and bulletins. We got out a paper last night, the only one in Dayton, right here in our department. Straw on the floor, two feet deep in places, and twenty-four refugees sleeping in one end.
DON ALLEN
Don Allen, staff reporter for the Times Star, wrote of a scene he witnessed at NCR on March 27, 1913 between John H. Patterson and his son, Frederick..
[John H.] Patterson was at his factory. His arms welcomed those who had been deprived of their homes and their loved ones. A pat on the back greeted each man brought in and each weeping woman was given a cheering word.
Suddenly a noise arose outside the building. Gradually it became louder than the groans of the grief stricken, louder even than the wailing of the babies and the sobs of the men. It was a cheer. At first it seemed strangely out of place, that token of happiness in that chaos of sorrow. The cheer grew louder as several men carried a young lad in on their shoulders.
The youngster was soaked to the skin. His shirt had been torn from his back, his hat had long since carried away by the waters. He tried to smile as he was carried in and taken up to Patterson. His smile died in a wan, far-away look as he lurched forward and fell into the arms of Patterson. The color came swiftly back to his face as a cup of coffee was force into his mouth. Then he struggled from the strong arms of Patterson and looked him in the eye. Patterson’s hand shot out, clutched that of the boy, swollen and bruised from his 24 hours’ work.
“Stay here,” said Patterson. “You’ve done enough boy, you’ve saved at least 40 women and children.”
“I can’t father,” muttered the lad. “My place is there, there where they need me,” and he was rushed back to the water front in a swift auto.
And for the first time John H. Patterson’s eyes filled with tears. He walked slowly away from the crowd. No one followed him. Everyone saw and understood.
Captain HARRY B. KIRTLAND
Recounting of Captain Harry B. Kirtland, of the Toledo Signal Corps, whose military group had been brought in to help with the flood relief.
About 9 o’clock (March 30th) my attention was attracted to a little group talking excitedly, and blocking traffic. Riding up to clear the street, I saw, and from his pictures, recognized, John H. Patterson, by order of the governor, virtual dictator of the Montgomery County military district.
As nearly at his wits’ end as he came at all that week, Mr. Patterson was wrestling with the problem of moving those 15,000 wet, cold and hungry refugees to food and shelter, and of transporting twice daily, to and from the scattered homes in which they found their patients, the 600 nurses. He needed transportation and except in quantities wholly insufficient, it was lacking. As nearly as I could make out from the excited talk of those around him, he was unable to determine how to get it.
Dismounting and saluting, I pressed through the crowd and without preliminaries said bluntly; “Mr. Patterson, by martial law you are dictator of this county. You can do as you will with every man and everything in it. I have 16 men here. I was trained in the regular army, and if you will give me your orders I will carry them out and take all the responsibility for my acts.”
His cold steel eyes bored me through and through. Then, without raising his voice, he placed his hand on my shoulder and said simply: “Just the thing! That’s just right. Come with me.” That was all, but I had found a general.
We walked up the steps and into his office. There he explained the situation. He wanted automobiles, but did not seem to appreciate the power that lay in his hands to get them. Some one said something about his difficulty in getting the troops to understand his wishes. He said, “That’s so, I am not a soldier.”
It was Sunday and the streets, in spite of the fact that for three days every newspaper in Ohio had carried the governor’s proclamation forbidding, under penalties of martial law, the entrance of sight-seers, were crowded with automobiles and hundreds of visitors from all south-western Ohio. There at hand lay both the labor and the transportation. We had only to take it.
I pointed this out and had no compunction about it. These people, forbidden entrance, and come anyway. They were a nuisance. In costly machines filled with silver thermos bottles, packed with picnic luncheons, crowded with men and women in holiday attire, the lawless rich from 20 cities crowded their way through the streets, in their insolence and vulgarity sparing with their remarks and cameras neither the age nor sex of the helpless. One of them, whose camera was smashed by an angry soldier, was snapping, over the protests of all beholders, a father and mother seeking in rubbish the body of a little child. Not one of them, so far as I observed, offered a helping hand, not even a lift, to the men, women and children tolling through the mud of the streets. They acted, in their rude Phariseeism, as if the whole disaster was a spectacle for their benefit.
Superintendent Best, of the Cash Register Co., and I explained all this to Mr. Patterson. It took only a moment. Once he grasped the idea that martial law is simply, and without proviso or exception, the will of the commander-in-chief, and that he, in the absence of the governor, was such commander, he acted. Calling me a stenographer, he said: “Very well, write the order you need in military form, and I will sign it.”
It does not seem wise, at this time, to make public the wording of that order. Suffice it to say that comparison of it, since the event, with the famous orders of American history, proves it the most sweeping decree of arbitrary power ever issued in Ohio, or elsewhere in the United States since 1864. It enabled me absolutely to take, to have and to hold! Mr. Patterson barely glanced at it, signed it without changing a word, and bade me “Go to it!”
Under that order the 16 enlisted men of my ‘guard detail’ confiscated that same day on the streets of Dayton, 418 automobiles and impressed their owners as drivers. When they came sweetly, their parties were taken to the cash register plant, and their ladies fed, entertained and cared for, the machines and drivers being released after a day of service. Where they balked, the machine was unceremoniously emptied on the street, the driver, who was often the owner, coerced at the point of a service Colt’s, and both kept in service till we saw fit to release them. We had little trouble. To their credit be it said that many of the men who gave us most trouble at the seizures, learning from direct observation the dire necessity for our drastic action, personally apologized both to me and to my men, and more than one of them stayed voluntarily in service after being released.
The only ugly ones, in general, were the ultra-rich, the class that, through civilian juggling with the antiquated and clumsy machinery of our courts, has come to think of itself above all law. They got their lesson, and they got it hard. We used over a thousand machines in all, consecutively numbering and tagging, after the first morning, 918 cars. We moved those refugees and nurses, and when the task was ended, the main work that fell to my lot was done.
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