A century ago, disastrous blaze destroyed Princeton High School

‘The date was Dec. 15, 1924. The time was about 8:15 p.m. The place was the Charles and Edna Crownover home in the 400 block of East Crown Street, just south of the 1867 Princeton High School building.

Fourteen-year-old Ralph Crownover, a PHS freshman, had just ridden his bicycle home from attending Christmas play rehearsal at the Congregational Church.

Crownover parked his bike in the family’s barn, entered the house through the back door, grabbed an apple in the kitchen, walked into the hallway that faced the front of the house, and then, according to Edna, saw something absolutely terrifying.

“I heard him exclaim, ‘Mama, the high school is on fire. There is smoke coming out of the window!’” Mrs. Crownover told a newspaper reporter later.

Ralph’s mother sprang into action.

“I did not stop to look but rushed to the telephone and called central. During the momentary delay that occurred in putting through the call, the flames broke out, and when I got the operator, I told her the high school was burning, urging haste as it appeared to be a bad fire,” Edna said.

It wasn’t just a bad fire. It was a disastrous fire. Visible for miles around, the flames, of unknown origin, roared out of the school’s library and spread throughout the school. They burned through the roof, blazing to the high heavens and destroying the venerable 57-year-old three-story brick structure within less than four hours.

This was despite the best efforts of Princeton Fire Department firefighters who, under the direction of Chief Arthur Nelson, deployed fire hoses from three neighboring hydrants but were hampered in their heroic efforts by low water pressure.

Early on, some firefighters smashed a window and sprayed water into the blazing library room. Others battered down the door to the main hallway and, armed with a fire hose, pushed their way inside to try to douse the flames.

As the Bureau County Republican described it, “A brief but desperate battle was fought, but in the end the firemen were forced to retreat before the stifling smoke and flames that belched forth to meet them.”

Hopeless battle

As word spread, several thousand onlookers gathered to watch in horror as the historic landmark, home of Illinois’ first township high school, burned down. Everyone soon realized the battle was hopeless. A photo taken by C.E. Crichfield shows flames throughout the structure as brick walls stood in stark silhouette to the inferno inside.

Principal Owen V. Shaffer, 31, was only in his first year on the job, and what a literal trial by fire he faced! Shaffer arrived on the scene about 45 minutes after the alarm was sounded. Knowing the value of the school’s irreplaceable records, he decided to try to enter his office on the second floor to save them.

The Republican described his vain attempt:

“A ladder was raised against the window on the south side of the wing in which the office was located, and Mr. Shaffer climbed up and tried to force an entrance. When he raised the sash, a furious cloud of black smoke rolled out of the opening, and at the same time flames broke through the roof above him.”

Firefighters holding the ladder saw the danger and ordered Shaffer to climb back down quickly.

“A short time later, the floor of the office crashed into the basement and a portion of the roof fell in,” the Republican stated.

After spraying water on the inferno for an hour, firefighters withdrew and concentrated their efforts on protecting nearby buildings from igniting. A brisk breeze from the southeast blew live sparks and burning embers downwind at least a mile, the BCR reported. Small fires had to be extinguished at 32 S. Euclid Ave., 218 N. Church St. and 504 N. Main St.

Everything was thought to be burned up in the building.

“Not so much as a lead pencil was saved. All the valuable books, records, paintings, statuary and equipment of every sort were consumed by the blaze,” the BCR stated.

Two pianos were destroyed, as were personal musical instruments owned by students, including a xylophone, violin, cornet and trombone.

The situation could not have been more shocking and depressing.

Shaffer’s finest hour

Yet, Principal Shaffer did not let the disaster intimidate him. Instead, knowing that 305 high school students and their families depended on him to keep high school education alive in Princeton, he immediately formulated plans to resume classes after the first of the year.

In those days, there was only a county superintendent of schools, not school superintendents in every school district, so the mantle of leadership during this trying time rested squarely on Shaffer’s shoulders, and he rose to the occasion.

”We are going to try to reorganize and have things in running shape by the close of the regular Christmas vacation,” Shaffer announced two days after the fire. “We are going ahead with our program of school activities as though nothing had ever happened. We hope to be ready in temporary quarters by Jan. 5.”

Meeting in an emergency session the day after the fire, the school board fielded numerous offers of help. The board accepted offers by Princeton City Hall, the post office, First Christian Church and Swedish Mission Church to host temporary classrooms. The Apollo Theater was utilized for at least two all-school assemblies, organized by Shaffer, to acquaint students and faculty with the temporary setup plans.

An inventory was taken of which textbooks were needed and how many. Some students had taken books home with them to study before the fire struck, so those volumes were spared from the flames. Hundreds of tablet arm desks were ordered. A local contractor was hired to build partitions to create separate classroom areas.

Amazingly, on Jan. 5, 1925 – exactly three weeks after Princeton High School burned to the ground – high school classes resumed in Princeton in their new temporary homes. Student editors of the 1925 Tiger yearbook playfully christened the new setup “Princeton College” because pupils had to walk among separate buildings, mostly along Main Street, to attend classes.

The rest of the story

On Jan. 15, a bit of good news appeared on the Republican’s front page. A story reported the school’s safe had just been dug out of the ruins. Principal Shaffer arrived on the scene, unlocked the heavy steel door, and inside the safe, he found all the school’s student records. They were practically intact and still legible.

“The finding of the records ... will save a great deal of trouble and confusion in making out the credits of the individual students for graduation and college entrance requirements,” the BCR reported.

A new school building was desperately needed, and the PHS board of education acted quickly to start the process. By late January, the board had hired the architectural firm of Royer, Danely and Smith of Urbana to design plans for the new high school. The firm had recently designed high schools in Urbana, Sandwich, Cairo and Freeport.

Plans were being formulated to hold a bond referendum in the April election to finance construction. This would supplement the expected $72,200 fire insurance payout.

Fast forward to September 1926, and the brand new $400,000 Princeton High School was complete and in operation. It was dedicated two months later.

What became of Ralph Crownover, the freshman who first spotted the fire, and Owen V. Shaffer, the principal who led the high school through its worst crisis?

Crownover graduated from PHS in June 1928, worked as an electrician and electrical contractor in the 1930s, served as an Army corporal in the South Pacific during World War II, moved to Florida, and lived to be 95.

Shaffer, a respected educator and community leader, served 27 more years as PHS principal. Unfortunately, an illness took his life in 1952. He was 58. Among the children he and his wife, Ina, reared was prolific artist and sculptor O.V. “Verne” Shaffer.

Dec. 15, 1924, was a dark day for Princeton High School, but the leadership of Principal Shaffer, supported by the school board and community, helped to restore hope and build a bright future.

Note to readers: Sources for this story are the archives of the Bureau County Republican and Bureau County Tribune, Princeton Tiger yearbooks, Princeton Public Library archives, “A History of Princeton” by George O. Smith, and several other online sources.