The Inquirer itself fired off round after round from several small cannons anchored on its clock tower.
"The blast reverberated throughout mid-town Philadelphia," the newspaper seemed to boast. "The accompanying bright flashes from the guns' muzzles lent a pyrotechnic note to the tumultuous N. Broad st. scene."
Peace, as well as war, had its casualties.
In Montgomery County, Abington Fire Marshal Walter Cox collapsed and died while shooting off a pistol at his house, The Inquirer reported.
And in Delaware County, John A. Ferges, 69, of Media, was accidentally shot and killed during an impromptu parade outside the State Street armory.
If the celebration could not be contained, neither could the change coming in Philadelphia and in America.
Newspapers, The Inquirer included, were accustomed to breaking news that came from the police beat or City Hall. In years ahead, the papers would have to learn to cover bigger, more complex stories that, as an Inquirer editor one day would put it, did not break but oozed.
These would include the resuming decline for old industries, but also the growth of a new pharmaceutical industry; the death of shipyards, but also the birth of Boeing helicopters; the deterioration of old neighborhoods, but the spreading of vast suburbs.
For two days after the surrender, with government offices and department stores closed, Philadelphia partied.
That Friday came the hangover. Said The Inquirer: "Weary and worn after its victory celebration, Philadelphia goes back to work today."
Contact staff writer Tom Infield
at 610-313-8205 or tinfield@phillynews.com.
