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[Illustration: IN FRONT OF THE THEATER AT THE TIME OF THE FIRE, December
30th, 1903, 4 P.M.]
"LEST WE FORGET"
Chicago's Awful Theater Horror
By THE SURVIVORS AND RESCUERS
WITH INTRODUCTION BY
BISHOP FALLOWS
Presenting a Vivid Picture, both by Pen and Camera,
of One of the Greatest Fire Horrors of Modern Times.
Embracing a Flash-Light Sketch of the Holocaust,
Detailed Narratives by Participants in the Horror,
Heroic Work of Rescuers, Reports of the Building
Experts as to the Responsibility for the Wholesale
Slaughter of Women and Children, Memorable Fires
of the Past, etc., etc.
PROFUSELY ILLUSTRATED WITH VIEWS OF THE SCENE OF
DEATH BEFORE, DURING AND AFTER THE FIRE
MEMORIAL PUBLISHING CO.
Copyright, 1904, by
D. B. McCURDY
[Illustration: HON. CARTER H. HARRISON, Mayor of Chicago.]
[Illustration: LEADING ACTRESS IN THE "BLUEBEARD, JR.," COMPANY. MISS
BONNIE MAGINN.]
[Illustration: DOOR TO THE FIRE ESCAPE THAT COULD NOT BE OPENED; MANY DIED
HERE.]
[Illustration: FRONT VIEW OF THE IROQUOIS THEATER.]
[Illustration: MEASURING THE EXIT WHERE HUNDREDS WERE KILLED AND BURNED.]
[Illustration: FIREMEN RESCUING THE LIVING.]
[Illustration: JEWELRY AND CLOTHING OF THE VICTIMS OF THE FIRE.]
[Illustration: IN FRONT OF THE THEATER; LAYING DEAD ON THE SIDEWALK.]
[Illustration: FRONT ROWS OF SEATS AND FRONT OF STAGE.]
[Illustration: RUINS ON THE STAGE.]
[Illustration: SKYLIGHT ON ROOF OF THEATER, WHICH WAS NAILED DOWN DURING
THE FIRE.]
[Illustration: BACK PART OF THE THEATER WHILE THE FIRE RAGED.]
INTRODUCTION.
By the RT. REV. SAMUEL FALLOWS, D.D., LL.D.
When Chicago was burning, a little girl in a christian home in a
neighboring city stamped her foot indignantly on the floor and said: "Why
doesn't God put out the fire?"
The cry of many an agonized heart, beating in children of a larger growth,
has been: "Why doesn't a God of wisdom and love prevent such an awful
occurrence as the Iroquois fire?" "I have lost all faith in God," said a
dear friend of mine, as its full meaning began to break upon him.
When we were carrying out the dying and the dead from that horrible
darkness and choking smoke to the outer air, those of us who were wont to
pray could only say, "O God have mercy! O God have mercy!"
But there must be no panic in our faculties. Reason must not desert her
rightful throne. Blinded by tears, we must not in our consuming passion of
resentment against the sickening catastrophe, attempt with our puny arms
to strike against God. He did not cause the calamity. No responsibility
for it can be rolled upon Him. God is law; and his laws had been palpably
broken by human negligence and incompetency. God is love; and human greed
and selfishness had violated every principle of love which "worketh no ill
to his neighbor."
God cannot coerce man, as one by sheer brute force can another. The savage
father may break both the body and soul of his child. Not so God, those of
his children. Man must render a voluntary obedience to the Divine command.
By pains and crosses and sorrows and shame he may be led to that
surrender. But he must say with a free, princely spirit at last, "I will
to do thy will O God."
It is the old problem of evil with which this terrible tragedy has brought
us face to face. The generic evil, out of which all evils spring, every
giant intellect of the ages has grappled with, and it has thrown them all.
The question is not "Why should God permit this special evil to come to
us, which has well nigh paralyzed our city and thrilled the civilized
world both with horror and sympathy, but why did he create the world at
all and put man upon it?" The finite cannot measure the Infinite.
Imperfection belongs to the one; perfection to the other. Where there is
imperfection there is always the possibility of evil.
A reverent faith will bow before the mystery and yet master it with an
undaunted courage. Evil must exist if the Universe is to be. The Universe
is, and it is the best possible Universe God can create. If he could have
given us a better one he would not be the God we revere.
Evil is the vast, dark background against which He brings out the
brightest pictures of beauty and life. From a "Paradise Lost" comes forth
a "Paradise Regained" with its transcendent glory of progress, and
allegiance to law and love.
"Calvary and Easter Day,
Earth's saddest day and gladdest day,
Were but one day apart."
God did not forsake his son in that supreme hour of anguish upon the
Cross, when he cried out "My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?" He
has never forsaken his world, nor the sinning and suffering souls that are
in it. "God in history," is faith's jubilant assertion. He is in its
minutest incidents and in its mightiest events, "in the rocking of a
baby's cradle and the shaking of a monarch's throne," in the fiery furnace
of the Iroquois Theater and in the most joyous assembly of his adoring
saints.
God permitted this great evil in harmony with man's free will; he did not
cause it. The evidence is overwhelming that human law, as well as divine
law, had been consciously or unconsciously defied. Two thousand lives or
more were brought together in a building professedly fire-proof, and
warranted as the best, because the latest of its kind, in the city if not
of the continent. It was not fire proof. The law forbade the crowding of
aisles; they were filled from end to end, until almost every inch of
standing room was taken up. The unusual number of exits was boasted of.
Most of them were unseen or actually bolted and locked. The alleged fire
proof curtain was a flimsy sham, and was resolved in almost a moment of
time, into scattered fragments by the surging flames. The scenery was of
the most combustible material, loaded down with paint and oil. Not a
bucket of water was on the stage, and only one water stand-pipe without
any hose. There never had been a fire apparatus of any kind in the balcony
or the gallery. There was none in the auditorium except one small water
stand pipe. There was not a fireman to answer the call for help. At no
time had there been a fire drill by the employes of the theater. There
were no notices posted to tell what to do in case of fire. There was no
fire alarm box anywhere in the structure. Common prudence and common sense
were completely set aside. Coroner Traeger in advance of the final finding
of the jury, is reported to have said: "Sufficient proof has been already
found to show that there was gross mismanagement and carelessness. There
is no need of denial. Instead of being the safest theater in Chicago, the
Iroquois was the unsafest."
But He who "maketh the wrath of man to praise him," who is ever bringing
good out of evil, will overrule and is already overruling this dire
calamity for the well being of mankind.
As I looked upon the charred and mangled and bruised bodies of tender
women and little children and once strong men; as I listened to the moans
of agony, and the cry of the living, tortured ones for help and for loved
friends whom they had left behind or been separated from as the fiery
blast swept them onward and outward, I said in my haste, "you all are
'martyrs by the pang without the palm'." I do not say it now. Martyrs
indeed they were, by the criminal neglect of recreant men. But the palm is
theirs. They have saved others, themselves they could not save. Thousands,
perhaps millions, will in the future be secure in their places of resort,
because these went on that fateful day to their inevitable doom. Mayors,
architects, fire-inspectors, managers, stage carpenters, electricians,
ushers and chiefs of police in every city have had their duty burned into
their inmost consciousness by this consuming fire.
Human law, which has been so flagrantly set at naught, demands punishment.
The public conscience will be outraged if the guilty parties do not meet
stern, inexorable justice. It is not vengeance that is sought, for
"Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord."
But those who are immediately responsible, have not been the only
transgressors, although they must suffer for their own guilt, and also
vicariously for the sins of omission by others. For we have all sinned and
come short of our duty. A common blame rests upon the whole community.
Many a minister has been preaching upon the fire, but has his own church,
perhaps crowded to the door, been safe while his eager congregation has
listened to his impassioned utterances? Suppose the unexpected had
happened, and the cry of fire had been heard and bursting flames been
seen, would his hearers have escaped unhurt? Not if the church doors swung
inward instead of outward; not if the means of escape were not abundant;
not if camp chairs blocked the passages to the street. Who then would have
been responsible? The clergymen, the church officers, the janitor, with
the municipal or legal authorities would have had to share the blame.
Nearly two score of our city school teachers perished in the theater. How
many school buildings are in such an imperfect condition today that
thousands of young lives are in constant danger? Suppose again the
unexpected should happen and tragedies be enacted which might even surpass
the Iroquois disaster, would the Mayor, and his subordinates and the Board
of Education and the teachers be held guiltless? Yet that fearful
contingency might have taken place.
It is a question seriously to be considered whether or not the great
majority of the apartment buildings in Chicago have the doors of the main
entrance swinging outwards. I have climbed to the fourth and fifth stories
of some of these edifices in which there are dark, narrow stair cases, and
all the doors swing inwards. There is not a single element of fire
proofing in them. I have gone up, in open elevators, in manufactories and
office buildings where scores and hundreds of persons are employed, and
have never felt safe a moment while remaining in them. They are fire traps
of the worst description.
There are hotels whose very construction invites the devouring flames.
There are stores crowded literally with thousands of persons on special
occasions, where the consequences in case of fire would eclipse by far the
Iroquois holocaust. No coaxing, or pleading, or grafting, or business
considerations should stand in the way both of speedy condemnation and
renovation in all these cases by our city officers.
Man is greater than Mammon. The sanctity of human life must be held
supreme. The body is more than raiment and the soul than the body. A new
civic spirit must pervade the people as the saltness the sea. Duty must
tower infinitely above self-indulgence. Law must take the place of luck.
The plain lesson for our whole country and the world is to be alert to
meet the dangers which may menace human life in the home, the workshop,
the manufactory, the hotel, the theater, the church. Let ample means of
exit be provided and always known to audiences. The tendency to a panic is
always increased when people are apprehensive of danger and believe that
they are hemmed in. Fear is contagious. A crowd feels and does not reason.
Self-preservation, the first law of nature, asserts itself the more
vehemently when the way of escape is uncertain. Panics may not always be
prevented, but their dangers will be greatly diminished if every
individual knows that he may with comparative leisure get out when he
wishes so to do.
In the theater let it be known that every modern contrivance has been
employed to secure safety. Let the curtain be of steel and so arranged
that it will have full play to work in its grooves. Let automatic
sprinklers be provided. Let the firemen in costume be in plain sight. Let
the policemen be in full evidence. Let the aisles always be clear. Let
there be ample room between the seats, and let the seats be easily raised
to afford rapid departure. Let the ushers be drilled like soldiers to keep
their places and allay confusion. All these and other things of like
character appeal forcibly to the reasoning powers and tend to give an
audience self command.
In many of our public schools the pupils are occasionally called from
their rooms, during recitation hours, and promptly assembling are marched
in an orderly way out of the building. This is an excellent plan.
Two marked instances of superb self-control among children in the panic at
the Iroquois theater have been brought to my notice. Two little daughters
of a highly esteemed friend slid down the balusters from the upper balcony
and reached the main floor unhurt. One of my Sunday School teachers met a
young lad she knew, leading by the hand a girl younger than himself to her
home. They were sitting together when the stampede took place. "Jump on my
shoulders," said the boy. Then holding her fast by her feet, he said: "Now
use your fists and fight for all you're worth." Bending his head he forced
his way with his conquering heroine to life. Let every safeguard that
human ingenuity can devise be furnished and yet there always remains the
personal element to be taken into the account. Habitual practice of
self-control in daily life will help give coolness and calmness in times
of peril. Keeping one's head in the ordinary things prevents its losing
when the extraordinary occurs.
Samuel Fallows.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Page
CHAPTER I.
THE STORY OF THE FIRE 33
WAVE OF FLAME GREETS AUDIENCE--FEW REALIZE APPALLING
RESULT--DROP WHERE THEY STAND--MANY HEROES ARE
DEVELOPED--DEAD PILED IN HEAPS--EXITS WERE CHOKED
WITH BODIES--SURVEY SCENE WITH HORROR--FIND BUSHELS
OF PURSES.
CHAPTER II.
FIRST AID TO THE INJURED AND CARE FOR THE DEAD 51
GREAT PILES OF CHARRED BODIES FOUND EVERYWHERE IN THE
THEATER--MOAN INSPIRES WORKERS IN MAD EFFORT TO
SAVE--NONE LEFT ALIVE IN GALLERY--DEAD AND DYING
CARRIED INTO NEARBY RESTAURANT BY SCORES--TERRIBLE
REALITY COMES TO AWESTRICKEN CROWD--ONE LIFE BROUGHT
BACK FROM DEATH--ONE HUNDRED FEET IN AIR, POLICE
CARRY INJURED ACROSS ALLEY--CROWDS OF ANXIOUS
FRIENDS--BALCONY AND GALLERY CLEARED--FINANCE
COMMITTEE OF CITY COUNCIL ACTS PROMPTLY.
CHAPTER III.
TAKING AWAY AND IDENTIFYING THE DEAD 67
HEARTRENDING SCENES WITNESSED AT THE UNDERTAKING
ESTABLISHMENTS--FRIENDS AND RELATIVES EAGERLY SEARCH
FOR LOVED ONES MISSING AFTER THEATER HOLOCAUST.
CHAPTER IV.
SCENES OF HORROR AS VIEWED FROM THE STAGE 77
STORY OF HOW A SMALL BLAZE TERMINATED IN TERRIBLE
LOSS--ORCHESTRA PLAYS IN FACE OF DEATH--CLOWN PROVES
A HERO--ALL HOPE LOST FOR GALLERY.
CHAPTER V.
EXCITING EXPERIENCES IN THE FIRE 86
EXPERIENCE OF CHICAGO UNIVERSITY MEN--BISHOP BRAVES
DANGER IN HEROIC WORK OF RESCUE--WOMEN AND FOUR
CHILDREN SUFFER--LEARNS CHILDREN HAVE ESCAPED--FINDS
HIS DAUGHTER--MR. FIELD'S NARRATIVE--NARROW ESCAPES
OF YOUNG AND OLD--PULLS WOMEN FROM MASS ON FLOOR.
CHAPTER VI.
HEROES OF THE FIRE 94
PILES OF DEAD IN THE GALLERY--EDDIE FOY'S HEROISM--AN
ELEVATOR BOY HERO--TWO BALCONY HEROES--THE MUSICAL
DIRECTOR'S STORY--CHILD SAVES HIS BROTHER.
CHAPTER VII.
THE ORIGIN OF THE FIRE--THE ASBESTOS CURTAIN AND THE
LIGHTS 105
ACCOUNT OF THE FIRE'S ORIGIN--WERE ELECTRIC LIGHTS
TURNED OUT?--STATEMENT OF MESSRS. DAVIS AND POWERS,
MANAGERS OF THE THEATER--FIRST RELIABLE STATEMENT AS
TO WHY THE CURTAIN DID NOT COME DOWN--ANOTHER STORY
AS TO WHY THE CURTAIN DID NOT LOWER--THE THEATER
FIREMAN'S NARRATIVE--THE STAGE CARPENTER--THE CHIEF
ELECTRICAL INSPECTOR'S TALE--ONE OF THE COMEDIANS
SPEAKS--ABOUT THE LIGHTS.
CHAPTER VIII.
SUGGESTIONS OF ARCHITECTS AND OTHER EXPERTS AS TO
AVOIDING LIKE CALAMITIES 116
ROBERT S. LINDSTROM'S SUGGESTIONS--THE ARCHITECT
SPEAKS--EXAMINATION BY ARCHITECTURAL EDITOR--PROPOSED
PRECAUTIONS FOR NEW YORK THEATERS.
CHAPTER IX.
THIRTY EXITS, YET HUNDREDS PERISH IN AWFUL BLAST 123
HORRIBLE SIGHT MET THE FIREMEN UPON ENTERING
AUDITORIUM--THE GALLERY HORROR--GIRL'S MIRACULOUS
ESCAPE--AN ACCOUNT FROM THE BOXES--INSPECTION AFTER
THE FIRE--A YOUNG HEROINE--A NARROW ESCAPE--FINDS
WIFE IN HOSPITAL--A MIRACULOUS AND UNCONSCIOUS
ESCAPE--LITTLE GIRL'S MARVELOUS ESCAPE--FOUR
GENERATIONS REPRESENTED--DAUGHTERS AND
GRANDDAUGHTERS GONE.
CHAPTER X.
HOW THE NEW YEAR WAS USHERED IN 137
MOURNING IN EVERY STREET--NOISE SEEMS A SACRILEGE--
MAYOR ASKS FOR SILENCE--MERRIMENT IS SUBDUED--CITY
OF MOURNING--BUSINESS WORLD IN MOURNING.
CHAPTER XI.
A SABBATH OF WOE 143
SEVEN TURNER VICTIMS--SAD SCENES AT WOLFF HOME--
PATHETIC SCENE AT CHURCH--BURY CHILDREN AND
GRAND-CHILDREN--FIVE DEAD IN ONE HOUSE--ENTIRE FAMILY
IS BURIED--MRS. FOX AND THREE CHILDREN--MRS. ARTHUR
E. HULL AND CHILDREN--HERBERT AND AGNES LANGE--
SWEETHEARTS BURIED AT THE SAME TIME--FIVE BURIED IN
ONE GRAVE--BOYS AS PALLBEARERS--WINNETKA SADDENED--
MOTHER AND DAUGHTERS BURIED TOGETHER--HOLD TRIPLE
FUNERAL--WOMEN FAINT IN CHURCH--LIFE-LONG FRIENDS
MEET IN DEATH--EDWARD AND MARGARET DEE--MISS E. D.
MANN AND NIECE--ELLA AND EDITH FRECKELTON--MISS
FRANCES LEHMAN.
CHAPTER XII.
WHAT OF THE PLAYERS? 152
THE CHORUS GIRL--THE MUSICAL DIRECTOR--THE JOY OF
THE OPENING--SPENDTHRIFT HABITS--GAMBLING, PURE AND
SIMPLE--THE SHOW ON THE ROAD--THE ONE-NIGHT STAND--
THE "MR. BLUEBEARD" COMPANY.
CHAPTER XIII.
OTHER HOLOCAUSTS 181
CHAPTER XIV.
STORIES AND NARRATIVES OF THE HOLOCAUST 193
MRS. SCHWEITZLER'S STORY OF THE BURNING OF THE
CURTAIN--ESCAPE OF MOTHER AND TWO SMALL CHILDREN--
EXPRESSION OF THE DEAD--ONLY SURVIVOR OF LARGE
THEATER PARTY--ALL HIS FAMILY GONE--A FAMILY PARTY
BURNED--CARRIES DAUGHTER'S BODY HOME IN HIS ARMS--SAD
ERROR IN IDENTIFICATION--THE HANGER OF THE ASBESTOS
CURTAIN--KEEPSAKES OF THE DEAD--THE SCENE AT
THOMPSON'S RESTAURANT--LIKE A FIELD OF BATTLE--WOMEN
EAGER TO HELP--STEADY STREAM OF BODIES--CLOTHING TORN
TO SHREDS--PRAYERS FOR THE DYING--CHILD SAVED FROM
DEATH BY BALLET GIRL--PRIEST GIVES ABSOLUTION TO
DYING FIRE VICTIMS--LITTLE BOY THANKS GOD FOR
CHANGING HIS LUCK--USE PLACER MINER METHODS--DAUGHTER
OF A. H. REVELL ESCAPES--PHILADELPHIA PARTNER IN
THEATER HORRIFIED--ALL KENOSHA IN MOURNING--FIVE OF
ONE FAMILY DEAD--COOPER BROTHERS DEEPLY MOURNED.
CHAPTER XV.
SOCIETY WOMEN AND GIRLS' CLUBS 214
MISS CHARLOTTE PLAMONDON'S ACCOUNT OF THE FIRE--
SCREAMS OF TERROR HEARD--CHORUS GIRLS ESCAPE, PARTLY
CLAD--FOY TRIES TO PREVENT PANIC--ESCAPE OF ANOTHER
SOCIETY WOMAN--MINNEAPOLIS WOMAN'S STORY OF THE
FIRE--GIRLS' CLUBS SORELY STRICKEN.
CHAPTER XVI. 220
EDDIE FOY'S SWORN TESTIMONY--DESCRIBES STAGE
BOX--CURTAIN WOULD NOT COME DOWN--LIGHT NEAR THE
FIRE--SAW NO EXTINGUISHERS--TALKS OF APPARATUS--ONLY
ONE EXIT OPEN--WIRE ACROSS AUDITORIUM.
CHAPTER XVII.
EFFECT OF THE FIRE NEAR AND FAR 230
NEW YORK THEATERS AND SCHOOLS--CRUSADE IN PITTSBURG--
WASHINGTON THEATER OWNERS ARRESTED--MASSACHUSETTS
THEATERS INVESTIGATED--ACTION IN MILWAUKEE--
PRECAUTIONS AT ST. LOUIS--ORDERS AFFECTING OMAHA
THEATERS--EFFECT ABROAD--HORROR FELT IN LONDON--
LONDON THEATER PRECAUTIONS--PRESENT RULES FOR LONDON
THEATERS--CURTAIN OFTEN TESTED--CLOSE WATCH FOR
FIRE--TREE TELLS OF RUSE--FORTUNE FOR SAFETY--W. C.
ZIMMERMAN ON EUROPEAN THEATERS--THE EFFECT ON GAY
PARIS--UPHEAVAL OF BERLIN THEATRICAL WORLD--MR.
SHAVER ON BERLIN THEATERS--VIENNA RECALLS A HORROR
OF ITS OWN--THE NETHERLANDS AND SCANDINAVIA.
CHAPTER XVIII.
SUGGESTIONS FOR SAFE THEATERS 243
FRANCIS WILSON SAYS "NO STEPS"--STAIRCASES WITH
RAILINGS--PRECAUTIONS ENFORCED IN LONDON--WHAT THE
CHICAGO CITY ENGINEER SAYS--OPINION OF A FIREPROOF
EXPERT--ILLUMINATED EXIT SIGNS.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE SWORN TESTIMONY OF THE SURVIVORS 251
THE FIRST WITNESS--MARLOWE'S EXPERIENCE--MUSICAL
DIRECTOR'S SWORN STATEMENT--MRS. PETRY'S ESCAPE--UP
AGAINST LOCKED DOORS--BLOWN INTO THE ALLEY--JUST OUT
IN TIME--SPORTING MEN TESTIFY--AN ELGIN PHYSICIAN'S
TALE--MR. MENHARD'S DIFFICULT EXIT--THE THEATER
ENGINEER--A SCHOOL GIRL'S ACCOUNT.
CHAPTER XX.
LACK OF FIRE SAFEGUARDS 271
A UNIVERSITY STUDENT'S STORY--A CLERGYMAN'S STORY--
THE FLY MAN'S STORY--SCHOOL TEACHER'S THRILLING
EXPERIENCE--GLEN VIEW MAN'S EXPERIENCE--THE LIGHT
OPERATOR--THE JAMMED THEATER--GAS EXPLOSION HOURS
BEFORE THE FIRE--PANIC AMONG THEATER EMPLOYEES--AN
EX-USHER'S WORDS.
CHAPTER XXI.
IRON GATES, DEATH'S ALLY 300
EVIDENCE OF GEORGE M. DUSENBERRY, SUPERINTENDENT OF
THE THEATER--PURPOSE OF THE TWO IRON GATES--NEVER
ANY FIRE DRILLS--GATES WERE BATTERED--DIDN'T BOTHER
ABOUT LOCKED DOORS.
CHAPTER XXII.
DANCED IN PRESENCE OF DEATH 306
CHAPTER XXIII.
JOIN TO AVENGE SLAUGHTER OF INNOCENTS 312
ATTORNEY T. D. KNIGHT SPEAKS--CORONER'S WORK
THROUGH--REMARKS BY ELIZABETH HALEY.
CHAPTER XXIV.
AWFUL PROPHECY FULFILLED 317
MOURNING AND INDIGNATION--NOTHING ELSE SO
HORRIBLE--UNFORTUNATE VICTIMS--FIRE! FIRE!--BEFORE
THE DISASTER--THE HOLOCAUST--THE STAMPEDE BEGINS--
ONE OF STUPENDOUS HORRORS--CURSED AND BLASPHEMED--
DEAD BODIES FOUND--SUDDENLY AND FOREVER PARTED--THE
FRENZY OF FRIENDS--TOO HORRIBLE TO DWELL UPON--HOW
THE THEATERS SHOULD BE BUILT.
CHAPTER XXV.
LIST OF THE DEAD 325
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE STORY OF THE BURNING OF BALTIMORE 357
MEMORIAL PRAYER.
The Rt. Rev. Samuel Fallows wrote this prayer for Chicago on its appointed
day of mourning. It is a prayer for all mourners of all creeds:
"O God, our Heavenly Father, we pray for an unshaken faith in Thy
goodness as our hearts are bowed in anguish before Thee.
Come with Thy touch of healing to those who are suffering fiery pain.
Open wide the gates of Paradise to the dying.
Comfort with the infinite riches of Thy grace the bereaved and
mourning ones.
Forgive and counteract all our sins of omission and commission.
All this we ask for Thy dear name and mercy's sake. Amen."
MEMORIAL HYMN.
Bishop Muldoon selected as the one familiar hymn most deeply expressive of
the city's mourning, "Lead, Kindly Light," which he declared should be the
united song of all Chicagoans on Memorial Day.
"Lead, kindly Light, amid th' encircling gloom,
Lead Thou me on;
The night is dark, and I am far from home,
Lead Thou me on.
Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene; one step enough for me.
I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou
Shouldst lead me on;
I loved to choose and see my path; but now
Lead Thou me on.
I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears,
Pride ruled my will: remember not past years.
So long Thy power hath blessed me, sure it still
Will lead me on
O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till
The night is gone,
And with the morn those angel faces smile,
Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile."
POEM BY A CHILD VICTIM.
The following poem, written by Walter Bissinger, a boy victim of the
Iroquois Theater fire, fifteen years old, was composed two years ago, in
honor of the tenth anniversary of the youthful poet's uncle and aunt, Mr.
and Mrs. Max Pottlitzer, of Lafayette, Ind., whose son Jack, aged ten,
perished with his cousin in the terrible disaster:
HAVE A THOUGHT.
I.
Have a thought for the days that are long gone by
To the country of What-has-been,
And a thought for the ones that unseen lie
'Neath the mystic veil
Of the future pale,
As the years roll out and in.
II.
Have a thought for the host and hostess here,
Aunt Emily and Uncle Max,
And a thought for our friends to our hearts so dear
That around us tonight
In the joyous light
Of pleasure their souls relax
III.
Have a thought for the happy two tonight
Who have passed their tenth wedded year,
And the best of wishes, kind and bright,
Which we impart
With a loving heart
That is faithful and sincere.
VERDICT OF CORONER'S JURY.
From the testimony presented to us we, the jury, find the following were
the causes of said fire:
Grand drapery coming in contact with electric flood or arc light, situated
on iron platform on the right hand of stage, facing the auditorium.
City laws were not complied with relating to building ordinances
regulating fire-alarm boxes, fire apparatus, damper or flues on and over
the stage and fly galleries.
We also find a distinct violation of ordinance governing fireproofing of
scenery and all woodwork on or about the stage.
Asbestos curtain totally destroyed; wholly inadequate, considering the
highly inflammable nature of all stage fittings, and owing to the fact
that the same was hung on wooden bottoms.
Building ordinances violated inclosing aisles on each side of lower boxes
and not having any fire apparatus, dampers or signs designating exits on
balcony.
LACK OF FIRE APPARATUS.
Building ordinances violated regulating fire apparatus and signs
designating exits on dress circle.
Building ordinances violated regulating fire apparatus and signs
designating exits on balcony.
Generally the building is constructed of the best material and well
planned, with the exception of the top balcony, which was built too steep
and therefore difficult for people to get out of especially in case of an
emergency.
We also note a serious defect in the wide stairs in extreme top east
entrance leading to ladies' lavatory and gallery promenade, same being
misleading, as many people mistook this for a regular exit, and, going as
far as they could, were confronted with a locked door which led to a
private stairway preventing many from escape and causing the loss of
fifty to sixty lives.
HOLDING OF DAVIS AND HARRISON.
We hold Will J. Davis, as president and general manager, principally
responsible for the foregoing violations in the failure to see that the
Iroquois theater was properly equipped as required by city ordinances, and
that his employes were not sufficiently instructed and drilled for any and
all emergencies; and we, the jury, recommend that the said Will J. Davis
be held to the grand jury until discharged by due course of law.
We hold Carter H. Harrison, mayor of the city of Chicago, responsible, as
he has shown a lamentable lack of force in his efforts to shirk
responsibility, evidenced by testimony of Building Commissioner George
Williams and Fire Marshal William H. Musham as heads of departments under
the said Carter H. Harrison; following this weak course has given Chicago
inefficient service, which makes such calamities as the Iroquois theater
horror a menace until the public service is purged of incompetents; and
we, the jury, recommend that the said Carter H. Harrison be held to the
grand jury until discharged by due course of law.
RESPONSIBILITY OF WILLIAMS.
We hold the said George Williams, as building commissioner, responsible
for gross neglect of his duty in allowing the Iroquois Theater to open its
doors to the public when the said theater was incomplete, and did not
comply with the requirements of the building ordinances of the city of
Chicago; and we, the jury, recommend that the said George Williams be held
to the grand jury until discharged by due process of law.
We hold Edward Loughlin, as building inspector, responsible for gross
neglect of duty and glaring incompetency in reporting the Iroquois theater
"O. K." on a most superficial inspection; and we, the jury, recommend
that the said Edward Loughlin be held to the grand jury until discharged
by due course of law.
We hold William H. Musham, fire marshal, responsible for gross neglect of
duty in not enforcing the city ordinances as they relate to his
department, and failure to have his subordinate, William Sallers, fireman
at the Iroquois Theater, report the lack of fire apparatus and appliances
as required by law; and we, the jury, recommend that the said William H.
Musham be held to the grand jury until discharged by due course of law.
NEGLECT OF DUTY BY SALLERS.
We hold the said William Sallers, as fireman of Iroquois Theater, for
gross neglect of duty in not reporting the lack of proper fire apparatus
and appliances; and we, the jury, recommend that the said William Sallers
be held to the grand jury until discharged by due course of law.
We hold William McMullen, electric-light operator, for gross neglect and
carelessness in performance of duty; and we, the jury, recommend that the
said William McMullen be held to the grand jury until discharged by due
process of law.
We hold James E. Cummings, as stage carpenter and general superintendent
of stage, responsible for gross carelessness and neglect of duty in not
equipping the stage with proper fire apparatus and appliances; and we, the
jury, recommend that the said James E. Cummings be held to the grand jury
until discharged by due course of law.
From testimony presented to this jury, same shows a laxity and
carelessness in city officials and their routine in transacting business,
which calls for revision by the mayor and city council; and we, the jury
demand immediate action on the following:
BUILDING DEPARTMENT.
Should have classified printed lists, to be filled out by an inspector,
then signed by head of department, before any public building can secure
amusement license, and record kept thereof in duplicate carbon book.
All fire escapes should have separate passageways to the ground, without
passing any openings in the walls.
All scenery and paraphernalia of any kind kept on the stage should be
absolutely fireproof.
Asbestos curtains should be reinforced by steel curtains and held by steel
cables.
There should be two electric mains entering all places of amusement, one
from the front, with switchboard in box office, controlling entire
auditorium and exits, and one on stage, to be used for theatrical
purposes.
All city officials and employes should familiarize themselves with city
ordinances as they relate to their respective departments, and pass a
rigid and signed examination on same before they are given positions. This
same rule should be made to apply to those holding office.
FIRE DEPARTMENT.
All theaters and public places should be supplied with at least two city
firemen, who shall be under the direction of the fire department and paid
by the proprietors of said places.
We recommend that the office and detail work of the fire department, as
imposed on the fire marshal, be made a separate and distinct work from
fire fighting, as it is hardly to be expected of any fire marshal to give
good and efficient service in both of these branches.
Also a police officer in full uniform detailed in and about said place at
each and every performance.
In testimony wherof, the said coroner and jury of this inquest have
hereunto set their hands the day and year aforesaid.
L. H. MEYER, Foreman, PETER BYRNES,
J. A. CUMMINGS, WALTER D. CLINGMAN,
JOHN E. FINN, GEORGE W. ATKIN.
JOHN E. TRAEGER, Coroner.
CHAPTER I.
THE STORY OF THE FIRE.
No disaster, by flood, volcano, wreck or convulsion of nature has in
recent times aroused such horror as swept over the civilized world when on
December 30, 1903, a death-dealing blast of flame hurtled through the
packed auditorium of the Iroquois theater, Chicago, causing the loss of
nearly 600 lives of men, women and children, and injuries to unknown
scores.
Strong words pale and appear meaningless when used in describing the full
enormity of this disaster, which has no recent parallel save in the
outbreaks of nature's irresistible forces. There have been greater losses
of life by volcanoes, earthquakes and floods, but no fire horror of modern
times has equaled this one, which in a brief half-hour turned a beautiful
million-dollar theater into an oven piled high with corpses, some burned
and mutilated and others almost unmarked in death.
Coming, as it did, in the midst of a holiday season, when the second
greatest city in the United States was reveling in the gaiety of Christmas
week, this sudden transformation of a playhouse filled with a
pleasure-seeking throng into an inferno filled with shrieking living and
mutilated dead, came as a thunderbolt from a clear sky.
It was a typical holiday matinee crowd, composed mostly of women and
children, with here and there a few men. The production was the gorgeous
scenic extravaganza "_Mr. Bluebeard_," with which the handsome new theater
had been opened not a month before. "Don't fail to have the children see
'_Mr. Bluebeard_,'" was the advertisement spread broadcast throughout the
city, and the children were there in force when the scorching sheet of
flame leaped from the stage into the balcony and gallery where a thousand
were packed.
The building had been heralded abroad as a "fireproof structure," with
more than enough exits. Ushers and five men in city uniform were in the
aisles. All was apparently safety, mirth and good cheer.
Then came the transformation scene!
The auditorium and the stage were darkened for the popular song "The Pale
Moonlight." Eight dashing chorus girls and eight stalwart men in showy
costume strolled through the measures of the piece, bathed in a flood of
dazzling light. Up in the scenes a stage electrician was directing the
"spot-light" which threw the pale moonlight effect on the stage.
Suddenly there was a startled cry. Far overhead where the "spot" was
shooting forth its brilliant ray of concentrated light a tiny serpentine
tongue of flame crept over the inside of the proscenium drape. It was an
insignificant thing, yet the horrible possibilities it entailed flashed
over all in an instant. A spark from the light had communicated to the
rough edge of the heavy cloth drape. Like a flash it stole across the
proscenium and high up into the gridiron above.
Accustomed as they were to insignificant fire scares and trying ordeals
that are seldom the lot of those who lead a less strenuous life, the
people of the stage hurried silently to the task of stamping out the
blaze. In the orchestra pit it could readily be seen that something was
radically wrong, but the trained musicians played on.
Members of the octette cast their eyes above and saw the tiny tongue of
flame growing into a whirling maelstrom of fire. But it was a sight they
had seen before. Surely something would happen to extinguish it. America's
newest and most modern fireproof playhouse was not going to disappear
before an insignificant fire in the rigging loft. So they continued to
sway in sinuous steps to the rhythm of the throbbing orchestra. Their
presence stilled the nervousness of the vast audience, which knew that
something was wrong, but had no means of realizing what that something
was.
So the gorgeously attired men and dashing, voluptuous young women danced
on. The throng feasted its eyes on the moving scene of life and color,
little knowing that for them it was the last dance--the dance of death!
That dance was not the only one in progress. Far above the element of
death danced from curtain to curtain. The fire fiend, red and glowing with
exultation, snapping and crackling in anticipation of the feast before it,
grew beyond all bounds. Glowing embers and blazing sparks--crumbs from its
table--began to shower upon the merry dancers, and they fell back with
blanched faces and trembling limbs. Eddie Foy rushed to the front of the
stage to reassure the spectators, who now realized the peril at hand and
rose in their seats struggling against the impulse to fly. Others joined
the comedian in his plea for calmness.
Suddenly their voices were drowned in a volley of sounds like the booming
of great guns. The manila lines by which the carloads of scenery in the
loft above was suspended gave way before the fire like so much paper and
the great wooden batons fell like thunder bolts upon the now deserted
stage.
Still the audience stood, terror bound.
"Lower the fire curtain!" came a hoarse cry.
Something shot down over the proscenium, then stopped before the great
opening was closed, leaving a yawning space of many feet beneath. With
the dropping of the curtain a door in the rear had been opened by the
performers, fleeing for their lives and battling to escape from the
devouring element fast hemming them in on every side. The draft thus
caused transformed the stage in one second from a dark, gloomy, smoke
concealed scene of chaos into a seething volcano. With a great puff the
mass of flame swept out over the auditorium, a withering blast of death.
Before it the vast throng broke and fled.
Doors, windows, hallways, fire escapes--all were jammed in a moment with
struggling humanity, fighting for life. Some of the doors were jammed
almost instantly so that no human power could make egress possible. Behind
those in front pushed the frenzied mass of humanity, Chicago's elect, the
wives and children of its most prosperous business men and the flower of
local society, fighting like demons incarnate. Purses, wraps, costly furs
were cast aside in that mad rush. Mothers were torn from their children,
husbands from their wives. No hold, however strong, could last against
that awful, indescribable crush. Strong men who sought to the last to
sustain their feminine companions were swept away like straws, thrown to
the floor and trampled into unconsciousness in the twinkling of an eye.
Women to whom the safety of their children was more than their own lives
had their little ones torn from them and buried under the mighty sweep of
humanity, moving onward by intuition rather than through exercise of
thought to the various exits. They in turn were swept on before their
wails died on their lips--some to safety, others to an unspeakably
horrible death.
While some exits were jammed by fallen refugees so as to become useless,
others refused to open. In the darkness that fell upon the doomed theater
a struggle ensued such as was never pictured in the mind of Dante in his
visions of Inferno. With prayers, curses and meaningless shrieks of terror
all faced their fate like rats in a trap. The darkness was illumined by a
fearful light that burst from the sea of flame pouring out from the
proscenium, making Dore's representations of Inferno shrink into the
commonplace. Like a horizontal volcano the furnace on the stage belched
forth its blast of fire, smoke, gas and withering, blighting heat. Like a
wave it rolled over every portion of the vast house, dancing.
Dancing! Yes, the pillars of flame danced! To the multitude swept into
eternity before the hurricane of flame and the few who were dragged out
hideously disfigured and burned almost beyond all semblance of human
beings it seemed indeed a dance of death.
Withering, crushing, consuming all in its path, forced on as though by the
power of some mighty blow pipe, impelled by the fearful drafts that
directed the fiery furnace outward into the auditorium instead of upward
into the great flues constructed to meet just such an emergency, the sea
of fire burned itself out. There was little or nothing in the construction
of the building itself for it to feed upon, and it fell back of its own
weight to the stage, where it roared and raged like some angry demon.
And those great flues that supposedly gave the palatial Iroquois increased
safety! Barred and grated, battened down with heavy timbers they resisted
the terrific force of the blast itself. There they remained intact the
next day. Anxiety to throw open the palace of pleasure to the public
before the builders had time to complete in detail their Herculean task
had resulted in converting it into a veritable slaughter pen.
"Mr. Bluebeard's" chamber of horrors, lightly depicted in satire to
settings of gold and color, wit and music, had evolved within a few
minutes into an actuality. Chamber of horrors indeed--grim, silent,
smoldering and sending upon high the fearful odor of burning flesh.
Policemen and firemen, hardened to terrible sights, crept into the
smoldering sepulchre only to turn back sickened by the sight that met
their eyes. Tears and groans fell from them and they were unnerved as they
gazed upon the scene of carnage. Some gave way and were themselves the
subjects of deep concern. It was a scene to wring tears from the very
stones. No words can adequately describe it.
Perhaps the best description of that quarter hour of carnage and the sense
of horror when the seared, scorched sepulchre was entered for the removal
of the dead and dying is found in the words of the veteran descriptive
writer, Mr. Ben H. Atwell, who was present from the beginning to the end
of the holocaust, and after visiting the deadly spot in the gray dawn of
the following day wrote his impressions as follows:
"Where at 3:15 yesterday beauty and fashion and the happy amusement seeker
thronged the palatial playhouse to fall a few moments later before a
deadly blast of smoke and flame sweeping over all with irresistible force,
the dawn of the last day of the passing year found confusion, chaos and an
all-pervading sense of the awful. It seemed to radiate the chilling,
depressing volume from the streaked, grime-covered walls and the
flame-licked ceilings overhead. Against this fearful background the few
grim firemen or police, moving silently about the ruins, searching for
overlooked dead or abandoned property, loomed up like fitful ghosts.
WAVE OF FLAME GREETS AUDIENCE.
"The progress of their noiseless and ghastly quest proved one circumstance
survivors are too unsettled to realize. With the opening of the stage
door to permit the escape of the members of the 'Mr. Bluebeard' company
and the breaking of the skylight above the flue-like scene loft that tops
the stage, the latter was converted into a furnace through which a
tremendous draft poured like a blow pipe, driving billows of flame into
the faces of the terrified audience. With exits above the parquet floor
simply choked up with the crushed bodies of struggling victims, who made
the first rush for safety, the packed hundreds in balcony and gallery
faced fire that moved them up in waves.
"With a swirl that sounded death, the thin bright sheet of fire rolled on
from stage to rear wall. It fed on the rich box curtains, seized upon the
sparse veneer of subdued red and green decorations spread upon wall,
ceiling and balcony facings. It licked the fireproof materials below clean
and rolled on with a roar. Over seat tops and plush rail cushions it sped.
Then it snuffed out, having practically nothing to feed upon save the
tangled mass of wood scene frames, batons and paint-soaked canvas on the
stage.
FEW REALIZED APPALLING RESULT.
"There firemen were directing streams of water that poured over the
premises in great cascades in volume, aggregating many tons. A few streams
were directed about the body of the house, where vagrant tongues of flame
still found material on which to feed. Silence reigned--the silence of
death, but none realized the appalling story behind the awful calm.
"The stampede that followed the first alarm, a struggle in which most
contestants were women and children, fighting with the desperation of
death, terminated with the sudden sweep of the sea of flames across the
body of the house. The awful battle ended before the irresistible hand of
death, which fell upon contestants and those behind alike. Somehow those
on the main floor managed to force their way out. Above, where the
presence of narrower exits, stairways that precipitated the masses of
humanity upon each other and the natural air current for the billows of
flame to follow, spelled death to the occupants of the two balconies, the
wave of flame, smoke and gas smote the multitude.
DROP WHERE THEY STAND.
"Dropping where they stood, most of the victims were consumed beyond
recognition. Some who were protected from contact with the flames by
masses of humanity piled upon them escaped death and were dragged out
later by rescuers, suffering all manner of injury. The majority, however,
who beheld the indescribably terrifying spectacle of the wave of death
moving upon them through the air died then and there without a moment for
preparation. Few survived to tell the tale. The blood-curdling cry of
mingled prayers and curses, of pleas for help and meaningless shrieks of
despair died away before the roar of the fire and the silence fell that
greeted the firemen upon their entry.
"Survivors describe the situation as a parallel of the condition at
Martinique when a wave of gas and fire rolled down the mountain side and
destroyed everything in its path. Here, however, one circumstance was
reversed, for the wave of death leaped from below and smote its victims,
springing from the very air beneath them.
MANY HEROES ARE DEVELOPED.
"In a few minutes it was all over--all but the weeping. In those few
minutes obscure people had evolved into heroes; staid business men drove
out patrons to convert their stores into temporary hospitals and morgues;
others converted their trucks and delivery wagons into improvised
ambulances; stocks of drugs, oils and blankets were showered upon the
police to aid in relief work and a corps of physicians and surgeons
sufficient to the needs of an army had organized.
"Rescues little short of miraculous were accomplished and life and limb
were risked by public servants and citizens with no thought of personal
consequences. Public sympathy was thoroughly aroused long before the
extent of the horror was known and before the sickening report spread
throughout the city that the greatest holocaust ever known in the history
of theatricals had fallen upon Chicago.
"While the streets began to crowd for blocks around with weeping and
heartbroken persons in mortal terror because of knowledge that loved ones
had attended the performance, patrol wagons, ambulances and open wagons
hurried the injured to hospitals. Before long they were called upon to
perform the more grewsome task of removing the dead. In wagon loads the
latter were carted away. Undertaking establishments both north, south and
west of the river threw open their doors.
DEAD PILED IN HEAPS.
"Piled in windows in the angle of the stairway where the second balcony
refugees were brought face to face and in a death struggle with the
occupants of the first balcony, the dead covered a space fifteen or twenty
feet square and nearly seven feet in depth. All were absolutely safe from
the fire itself when they met death, having emerged from the theater
proper into the separate building containing the foyer. In this great
court there was absolutely nothing to burn and the doors were only a few
feet away. There the ghastly pile lay, a mute monument to the powers of
terror. Above and about towered shimmering columns and facades in polished
marble, whose cold and unharmed surfaces seemed to bespeak contempt for
human folly. In that portion of the Iroquois structure the only physical
evidences of damages were a few windows broken during the excitement.
EXITS WERE CHOKED WITH BODIES.
"To that pile of dead is attributed the great loss of life within. The
bodies choked up the entrance, barring the egress of those behind. Neither
age nor youth, sex, quality or condition were sacred in the awful battle
in the doorway. The gray and aged, rich, poor, young and those obviously
invalids in life lay in a tangled mass all on an awful footing of equality
in silent annihilation.
"Within and above equal terrors were encountered in what at first seemed
countless victims. Lights, patience and hard work brought about some
semblance of system and at last word was given that the last body had been
removed from the charnel house. A large police detail surrounded the place
all night and with the break of day search of the premises was renewed,
none being admitted save by presentation of a written order from Chief of
Police O'Neill. Fire engines pumped away removing the lake of water that
flooded the basement to the depth of ten feet. As the flood was lowered it
began to be apparent that the basement was free of dead.
SURVEY SCENE WITH HORROR.
"Searchers gazing down from the heights of the upper balcony surveyed the
scene of death below with horror stamped upon their faces. Fire had left
its terrifying blight in a colorless, garish monotony that suggests the
burned-out crater of an extinct volcano. In the wreckage, the scattered
garments and purses, fragments of charred bodies and other debris strewn
within thousands of bits of brilliantly colored glass, lay as they fell
shattered in the fight against the flames. A few skulls were seen.
FIND BUSHELS OF PURSES.
"Five bushel baskets were filled with women's purses gathered by the
police. A huge pile of garments was removed to a near-by saloon, where an
officer guards them pending removal to some more appropriate place. The
shoes and overshoes picked up among the seats fill two barrels to
overflowing.
"The fire manifested itself in the flies above the stage during the second
act. The double octette was singing 'In the Pale Moonlight' when the
tragedy swept mirth and music aside, to give way to a more somber and
frightful performance. Confusion on the stage, panic in the auditorium,
phenomenal spread of the incipient blaze, failure of the asbestos fire
curtain to fall in place when lowered followed in rapid progress, with the
holocaust as the climax."
But to return to the narrative of what happened immediately after the
first alarm, as gathered by the collaborators of this work. There was a
wild, futile dash--futile because few of the terrified participants
succeeded in reaching the outer air. Persons in the rear of the theater
building knew full well that a holocaust was in progress. There fire
escapes and stage doors thronged with refugees, half clad and hysterical
chorus girls flocking into the alley, and crackling flames leaping higher
and higher from the flimsy stage and bursting from windows, told only too
plainly what was in progress within. At the front, half a block distant,
in Randolph street, ominous silence maintained. A mere handful of people
burst out, those who had occupied rear seats and pushed by the ushers who
sought to restrain them and quiet their fears. Loiterers about the ornate
lobby scarcely sniffed a suggestion of impending disaster before the fire
apparatus began to arrive with clanging bells.
Those ushers who held back the straining, anxious spectators who sought
escape at the first mild suggestion of danger--for what widespread woe are
they responsible!
Mere boys of tender years and meager experience, what knew they of the
awful possibilities behind the spell of excitement upon the stage? Only
two weeks before there had been an incipient blaze there that had been
extinguished without the knowledge of the audience.
Like all the rest of the world that now stands in shuddering wonderment,
these boys scoffed at the thought of real danger in the massive pile of
steel, stone and terra cotta, with its brave and shimmering veneer of
glistening marble, stained glass of many hues, rich tapestries and
drapings, and cold, aristocratic tints of red and old gold. And so with
uplifted hands they turned back those whose sense of caution prompted them
to leave at the outset. Surely disaster could not overtake the regal
Iroquois in its first flush of pomp, pride and superiority. It was their
sacred duty to see that no unseemly break marred the decorum established
for the guidance of audiences at the Iroquois, and that duty was fully
discharged.
Thus it was that the wild hegira did not begin from the front until the
arrival of the fire department. Then pandemonium itself broke loose. All
restraining influences from the stage had ceased. At the appearance of the
all-consuming wave of flame sweeping across the auditorium the boy ushers
abandoned their posts and fled for their lives, leaving the packed
audience to do the same unhampered.
Unhampered--not quite! Darkness descending upon the scene, doors locked
against the frightened multitude, fire escapes cut off by tongues of flame
and exits and stairways choked with the bodies of those who died fighting
to reach safety hampered many--at least the six hundred carried out later
mangled and roasted, their features and limbs twisted and distorted until
little semblance to humanity remained. After the first wild dash, in which
a large portion of those on the main floor escaped, the blackness of night
settled upon the long marble foyer leading from Randolph street to the
auditorium. It settled in a cloud of black, fire laden smoke--death in
nebulous forms defying fire fighter and rescuer alike to enter the great
corridor. None entered, and, more pitiful still, none came forth.
While this situation maintained in front a vastly different scene unfolded
in the rear. The theater formed a great L, extending north from Randolph
street to an alley and, in the rear, west to Dearborn street. This last
projection, the toe of the L, was occupied by the stage, theoretically the
finest in America, if not in the world. Thus the auditorium and stage
occupied the extreme northern part of the structure, paralleling an alley
extending on a line with Randolph street from State street to Dearborn
street. This alley wall was pierced by many windows and emergency exits
and was studded with fire escapes built in the form of iron galleries, and
stairways hugging close to the wall leading to the alley.
To these exits and the long, grim galleries of fire escapes the herded,
fire-hunted audience surged. Those who reached doors that responded to
their efforts found themselves pushed along the galleries by the
resistless crush behind. As was the case in front, half way to safety
another stream of humanity was encountered pouring out at right angles
from another portion of the house. Coming together with the impact of
opposing armies the two hosts of refugees gave unwilling and terrible
answer to the time worn problem as to the outcome of an irresistible force
encountering an immovable body. Both in front and rear great mounds of
dead spelled annihilation as the answer. In front over 200 corpses piled
in a twenty-foot angle of a stairway where two balcony exits merged told
the terrible tale, and rendered both passages useless for egress, the dead
being piled up in wall-like formation ten feet high.
In the rear an alley strewn with mangled men, women and children writhing
in agony on the icy pavement, or relieved of their sufferings by death,
lent eloquent corroboration to the solution of the problem.
It was in the rear that the true horror of the fire was most fully
disclosed. There no towering mosaic studded walls or kindly mantle of
smoke shut out the horrid sight. From its opening scene to its silent,
ghastly denouement the successive details of this greatest of modern
tragedies was forced upon the view to be stamped upon the memory of the
unwilling beholder with an impressiveness that only death will blot out.
After the first great impact had hurled the overflow of the fire-escape
gallery into the alley yawning far below, the crush of humanity swept
onward, downward to where safety beckoned. When the advance guard had all
but reached the precious goal, with only a few feet of iron gallery and
one more stairway to traverse, the crowning horror of the day unfolded
itself. Right in the path of the advancing horde a steel window shutter
flew back, impelled by the terrific energy of an immeasurable volume of
pent up superheated air.
The clang of the steel shutter swinging back on its hinges against the
brick wall sounded the death knell of another host of victims, for in its
wake came a huge tongue of lurid flame, leaping on high in the ecstasy of
release from its stifling furnace. Fiercely in the faces of the refugees
beat this agency of death. Before its withering blast the victims fell
like prairie grass before an autumn blaze. Those further back waited for
no more, but precipitated themselves headlong into the alley rather than
face the fiery furnace that loomed up barring the way to hope.
It would be well to draw the curtain upon this awful scene of suffering
and death in the gloomy alley were it not for one circumstance that stands
forth a glorious example of the heights that may be attained by the modest
hero who moves about unsuspected in his daily life until calamity affords
opportunity to show the stuff he is made of. High up in the building
occupied by the law, dental and pharmacy schools of the Northwestern
University, directly across the alley from the burning theater, a number
of such men were at work. They were horny handed sons of toil--painters,
paper hangers and cleaners repairing minor damage caused by an
insignificant fire in the university building a few weeks before. One
glance at the seething vortex of death below transformed them into heroes
whose deeds would put many a man to shame whose memory is kept alive by
stately column or flattering memorial tablet.
Trailing heavy planks used by them in the erection of working scaffolds,
they rushed to a window in the lecture room of the law school directly
opposite the exit and fire escape platform leading from the topmost
balcony of the theater. By almost superhuman effort and ingenuity they
raised aloft the planks, scarce long enough to span the abyss, and dropped
them. The prayers of thousands below and a multitude stifling in the
aperture opposite were raised that the planks might fall true. All eyes
followed their course as they poised in mid-air, then descended. Slow
seemed their fall, a veritable period of torture, and awed silence reigned
as they dropped.
Then there arose a glad cry. With a crash the great planks landed true,
the free ends squarely upon the edge of the platform of the useless fire
escape, the others resting firmly upon the narrow window ledge where the
painters stood defying flame, smoke and torrents of burning embers and
blazing sparks hurled upon them as from the crater of a volcano.
Death alley had been bridged! Across the narrow span came a volume of
bedraggled humanity as though shot from a gun. A mad, screaming stream,
pushed on by those behind, simply whirled across the frail support, direct
from the very jaws of death, the blistering gates of hell.
Only for a moment, a brief second it seemed, the wild procession moved.
Yet in that limited period scores, perhaps hundreds, poured from the
seething inferno--practically all that escaped from the lofty balcony that
was a moment later transformed into the death chamber of helpless
hundreds. Then the wave of flame, previously described, swept over the
interior of the theater, greedily searching every nook and corner as
though hungry for the last victim within reach.
The last refugees to cross the narrow span, the dizzy line sharply drawn
between life and death in its most terrifying aspect, staggered over with
their clothing in flames, gasping, fainting with pain and terror. The
workmen, students and policemen who had rushed to their assistance dashed
across into the heat and smoke and dragged forth many more who had reached
the platform only to fall before the deadly blast. Then the rescuers were
beaten back and the fire fiend was left to claim its own.
And claim them it did, searching them out with ruminating tongues of
flame. Over every inch of paint and decoration, every tapestry, curtain
and seat top it licked its way with insinuating eagerness. It pursued its
victims beyond the confines of the theater walls, grasping in its deadly
embrace those who lay across windows or prostrate on galleries and
platforms. Thousands gazed on in helpless horror, watching the flames
bestow a fatal caress upon many who had crept far, far from the blaze and
almost into a zone of safety. With a gliding, caressing movement that made
beholders' blood run cold it crept upon such victims, hovered a moment and
glided on with sinuous motion and what approached a suggestion of
intelligence in searching out those who fled before it. A shriek, a
spasmodic movement and the victims lay still, their earthly troubles over
forever.
A few minutes later, possibly not more than half an hour after the
discovery of the fire, when the firemen had beaten back the flames to the
raging stage another procession moved across that same plank again. It
moved in silence, for it was a procession of death. The great tragedy
began and ended in fifteen minutes. Its echoes may roll down as many
centuries, compelling the proper safeguarding of all places of amusement,
in America at least. If so, the Iroquois victims did not give up their
lives in vain.
When the removal of the victims across the improvised bridge over death
alley ended the tireless official in charge of that work, James Markham,
secretary to Chief of Police O'Neill, had checked off 102 corpses. No
attempt was made to keep count of the dead as they were removed from other
portions of the theater and by other exits. The counting was done when the
patrol wagons, ambulances, trucks and delivery wagons used in removing the
dead deposited their ghastly loads at the morgues.
The instance cited was not an isolated example of heroism, but rather
merely a striking instance among scores. Police, firemen and citizens vied
with each other in the work of humanity. Merchants drove out customers and
threw open their business houses as temporary hospitals and morgues.
Others donated great wagon loads of blankets and supplies of all kinds and
the municipal government was embarrassed by the unsolicited relief funds
that poured in. All manner of vehicles were given freely for the removal
of dead and injured. So informal was the removal of the latter that many
may have reached their homes unreported. For that reason a complete list
of the injured may never be secured.
An illustration of the possibilities in that direction is found in the
case of one man who wrapped the dead body of his wife in his overcoat and
carried it to Evanston, many miles away, where the circumstances became
known days later when a burial permit was sought. Another is the case of
an injured man who revived on a dead wagon en route to a morgue and was
removed by friends.
All these and other details are elaborated upon elsewhere, together with
the touching story of the scores of young women employed in the
production, "Mr. Bluebeard," who would have been stranded penniless in a
strange city a thousand miles from home but for the prompt and noble
relief afforded by Mrs. Ogden Armour.