Steel beams, twisted by the intense heat, were all that remained — except for the field itself, which the flames barely touched.
Memphians of a certain age may remember driving — or being driven by their parents — Downtown on Easter Sunday 62 years ago to watch the flaming destruction of Russwood Park. On the night of April 17, 1960, our city’s baseball stadium burned to the ground in a spectacular blaze that remains one of the largest fires in our city’s history. The heat was so intense that it cracked and melted windows in Baptist Hospital, just across the street, forcing the evacuation of patients.
Most scenes from the event are old black-and-white newspaper photographs, but years ago, while rummaging through a cluttery estate sale, I found a box of 35mm color slides apparently taken the day after the fire, and I’m sharing them here as way to convey the extent of the damage.
The baseball field on Madison was originally called Red Elm Bottoms (I have no idea why), and it only became Russwood Park when a local businessman named Russell Gardner purchased the property. It was originally home to a team called the Memphis Turtles — yes, the club named their team after a creature not exactly known for its speed or agility — but in more recent years it was home to the Memphis Chicks.
Tiny when it was first constructed, Russwood expanded over the years, with the wooden stands eventually holding more than 10,000 fans. Over the years, the old field was hemmed in by buildings from the medical center, chiefly John Gaston Hospital on the west, a new wing of Baptist Memorial Hospital across Madison to the south, and the sprawling Memphis Steam Laundry, with its soaring smokestack, to the north.
“I thought we’d have it out right away,” one fire captain told reporters, “but when we got inside, it was a different story."
Over the years, Russwood attracted some of the great names in baseball, including Babe Ruth, Ty Cobb, Joe DiMaggio, Stan Musial, and others. And on the Easter afternoon of April 17, 1960, more than 7,000 people came to the park to watch an exhibition game between the Chicago White Sox and the Cleveland Indians. Later that evening, sometime around 7:30, a few patients at Baptist Hospital noticed smoke billowing from the empty stadium. Firemen from a firehouse on Jefferson rushed to the scene, thinking they were going to quench yet another trash fire that tended to spring up from the paper and clutter beneath the rickety old stands.
“I thought we’d have it out right away,” one fire captain told reporters, “but when we got inside, it was a different story." Daylight revealed the full extent of the fire that consumed Russwood Park: steel beams twisted by the intense heat, scorched cars, and burned-out buildings along Madison.
The destruction was so complete that owners decided not to rebuild.
The captain of a ladder truck said, “We located the fire in the bleachers and started pouring water on it, but it just kept growing, and we had to drop the hose and run for our lives. That was the first time we had a fire I felt we couldn’t handle.”
In a 1992 account of the fire published in our magazine, Debbie Gilbert wrote, “It soon became obvious that attempting to save the stadium was useless. In the intense heat — temperatures at the heart of the fire reached 5,000 degrees Fahrenheit — water just turned to steam. Russwood was given up for dead. Firemen concentrated on containing the flames, which were now spreading toward the maternity ward of John Gaston Hospital to the west, and Baptist Hospital to the south.”
Nobody was seriously injured in the fire. “If I didn’t already have religion, I would have gotten it that night,” hospital president Frank Groner said afterwards. People referred to it as “the Easter Miracle.”
A news photographer on the scene that evening captured a tsunami of flame cascading over 12-story Baptist Hospital, which was filled with nervous patients. Windows cracked, and window frames in John Gaston actually caught fire.
A full-scale evacuation took place inside the smoke-filled hallways of both hospitals, an event made even more perilous considering that most of the patients at John Gaston were newborns. Despite the intensity and extent of the blaze, not a single patient, firefighter, or bystander suffered a serious injury that night. “If I didn’t already have religion, I would have gotten it that night,” hospital president Frank Groner said afterwards. People referred to it as “the Easter Miracle.”
These photos show the scene the next morning. Memphians jammed Madison to view the steel beams of the stadium twisted into fantastic shapes from the heat, scorched and burned cars that had been parked along the street, and the blackened exteriors of the hospitals. The stadium was a complete loss, as were the Russwood Park retail shops that lined the street. The only area of the park that escaped damage was the grass infield.
Owners never rebuilt the park, and without a decent home stadium, the Chicks disbanded. A team called the Memphis Blues played a few seasons at the new Tim McCarver Stadium at the fairgrounds, and of course today the newly organized Redbirds play in a considerably better — and more fire-resistant — home known as AutoZone Park. Medical buildings and a parking garage occupy the site of Russwood Park today.
1 of 13
Across the street, Baptist Hospital staff had to evacuate patients when the fire cracked and melted windows.
2 of 13
Water from fire hoses drenched the lobby of Baptist Hospital.
3 of 13
Scorched cars were left behind on Madison.
4 of 13
Buildings on either side of the Russwood Park entrance were heavily damaged.
5 of 13
The next day, firemen sprayed water on the smoldering ruins.
6 of 13
The fire broke windows in Baptist Hospital across the street and John Gaston Hospital next door to the stadium.
7 of 13
8 of 13
Scorched cars remained along Madison.
9 of 13
The next day, Memphians jammed Madison to see the ruins.
10 of 13
A policeman directs bumper-to-bumper traffic the next day on Madison in front of the ruins.
11 of 13
12 of 13
The fire came dangerously close to the maternity ward of John Gaston Hospital, forcing the staff to evacuate patients from smoke-filled rooms and hallways.
13 of 13
Twisted beams and scorched vehicles were all that remained after the blaze was finally extinguished.
