The last edition was just off the presses, the night shift of the Baltimore Post had just gone on duty one evening last week, when muffled explosions shook the composing room floor. Clouds of smoke bearing acrid fumes sent the printers flying for exits. Flames shot up the elevator shaft, mushroomed out through the four stories of the old triangular building. Some of the 35 occupants fought their way out through halls and stairways; others made for the fire escapes. One linotype operator, Joseph Douglass, did not wait for firemen to raise a ladder, jumped from the third floor, died of...
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