On the night of May 17, 1849, a steamboat called the White Cloud caught fire at the St. Louis levee. By morning, the city had almost ceased to exist.

The White Cloud drifted loose while burning and set the next boat alight. Then the next. Twenty-three steamboats burned in the river. The fire jumped to shore and moved inland through the wooden buildings of the waterfront. Volunteer firefighters — there was no professional department — worked through the night with hand-pumped equipment until the reservoir ran dry. They tried dynamiting buildings to create firebreaks. It helped, eventually. The fire was stopped about eight blocks from the riverfront.

Fifteen city blocks were destroyed. More than four hundred buildings. The losses were catastrophic. The city had 63,000 residents at the time and was one of the fastest-growing cities in America — fourth largest in the country, a gateway through which everything heading west had to pass. The fire came within blocks of finishing it.

One volunteer firefighter named Captain Thomas Targee died running into a building to prevent the fire from spreading further. He was a hero. The building exploded. The dynamite had already been set.

St. Louis rebuilt faster than anyone thought possible. Within two years, much of what had burned was replaced with brick — the city had learned its lesson about wood. The new buildings were more solid, more permanent. The fire that nearly ended the city may have made it more durable than it would otherwise have been.

The levee where the White Cloud burned is gone now, buried under the Gateway Arch grounds. Nothing marks the spot. The fire happened. The city survived. It moved on so completely that most St. Louisans today have never heard of it.