Came the dawn : memories of a film pioneer (1951)

CHAPTER 8 Suddenly, in 1907, out of the blue, came disaster, bringing grief and dismay to all of us: cutting sharply across our lives, leaving a dreadful memory which for most of us will never be effaced. The thing which is feared above all others by those who work with celluloid, if they have any imagination at all. Fire! Fire, so swift and terrible that it is almost an explosion. I had left a little early that evening in order to call at a club quite near to my house. One of our men came by on a bicycle and called out to me across the hedge that the works was on fire. I rushed and got out the car and drove as quickly as I could, but even as I started I could see the column of smoke rising above all the houses. I hadn't wasted much time but the fire was half over when I got there. All the staff were crowded in the road in front of the blazing building, and to my first frantic question they assured me that they had accounted for everyone. But then, when to make sure, I ran over the names of all the people engaged at the time, it appeared that one, William Lane, was not among them. He was presumed to have run off home in terror, for it was in his room that the fire started. With that, I had to be content for the m)oment, but I sent a messenger at once to the lad's home to find out whether he was there. Strange how in moments of deep distress, tiny utterly unimportant things will insist upon thrusting themselves into your consciousness and will not be silenced. The dark-rooms were nearest to the road and every developing machine had an electric alarmbell to give notice when attention was needed. The fire had burnt these machines away and set all those dreadful bells ringing. In the dread silence, broken only by the hiss of the water from the fire engines, that horrible shrill tinkling went on and on as if it would persist to the very end of time. The batteries should run down, we hoped, and prayed, but still the maddening sound went 86