SOCIETY WOMEN AND GIRLS' CLUBS.
Miss Charlotte Plamondon, daughter of the vice-president of the Chicago
board of education, who waited until the fire had caught in the curtains
over the front box, in which she sat, before attempting to get out,
related her experience at the Chicago Beach Hotel:
"I can't tell you how I escaped the awful fate of others," she said. "I
only know that when the flames began to crackle over my head and dart down
from the curtains of our box I leaped over the railing of the box and fell
in the arms of some man. I think he was connected with the theater, for he
immediately set me down in a seat and told me to be quiet for a moment.
SCREAMS OF TERROR HEARD.
"Then I think I lost all reason. I have a vague recollection of having
been pushed up along the side aisle that runs by the boxes. It was as
quiet as death for a moment. The great audience rose like a single person,
but no sound escaped it until those in front were wedged in the doorway.
Then a scream of terror went up that I shall never forget. It rings in my
ears now. Women screamed and children cried. Men were shouting and rushing
for the entrance, leaping over the prostrate forms of children and women
and carrying others down with them.
"Back of me, I remember, there was a sheet of flame that seemed to be
gathering volume and reaching out for us. Then I forgot again, and not
until the crowd surged toward the wall and caught me between it and the
marble pillar did I realize what the danger was. The pain revived me. I
know I was almost crushed to death, but it didn't hurt. Nothing could
hurt, with the screaming, the agonizing cries of the women and children
ringing in your ears.
CHORUS GIRLS ESCAPE PARTLY CLAD.
"And then, somehow, I found myself out on the street and the dead and
dying were around me. When I realized that I was out of the place and safe
from the fire and crush, all my strength seemed to leave me. But the cold
air braced me after a moment and I went around to the drug store, where
the dead were being brought in and the poor actresses and chorus girls
were coming in with scarcely anything on them.
"I never felt as I did when it dawned upon us that the theater was on
fire. It seemed like a dream at first. The border curtain right near our
box blew back, and I think it hit a light or something, for when it fell
back into place I saw it was on fire.
"The chorus girls kept right on singing for a couple of minutes, it
seemed. Then one of the stage men rushed out and shouted: 'Keep your
seats.'
"Oh, the stage men behaved like heroes! As I think of it now, they
conducted themselves with rare courage. I saw a couple of the girls fall
down, and I knew that they were overcome."
FOY TRIES TO PREVENT PANIC.
"Just then Eddie Foy ran out on the stage, partly made up, and cried:
"'My God, people, keep your seats!'
"When Foy said this I regained my senses, and when the asbestos curtain
did not come down I felt that the situation was critical. The flames had
taken hold of the front row of seats behind the orchestra and were
creeping up the curtains over our box, when I jumped to my feet and leaped
over the railing.
"I saw the children lying in heaps under our feet. Their little lives were
ended, and rough feet were bruising their flesh; and such innocent
children! Men leaped over the rows of prostrate forms and fought like they
were mad, trying to get out of the entrance."
ESCAPE OF ANOTHER SOCIETY WOMAN.
Mrs. A. Sorge, Jr., whose husband is a consulting engineer, with offices
in the Monadnock Building, and who lives at the Chicago Beach Hotel,
attended the theater in company with Dr. Jager, who is a guest of Mr. and
Mrs. Sorge. They occupied a seat well down in the parquet.
"When the fire started," said Mrs. Sorge, "persons on the stage told us to
keep our seats. Dr. Jager also told me to sit still, and we did until the
flames began to come near us. Then we clasped hands and started for the
door.
"I was not half so much afraid of the fire as I was of being crushed to
death, and I tried in every way to keep out of the crush. Dr. Jager got
separated from me by catching his foot in an upturned chair, but he soon
found me. We later managed to get out on the street without suffering any
injuries of a serious nature.
"The saddest thing I saw inside the burning building was a little girl
looking for her baby sister. The two had got separated in the rush for the
entrance, and it is quite likely that both were killed in that crush, for
it was something awful."
MINNEAPOLIS WOMAN'S STORY OF THE FIRE.
Mrs. Baldwin, wife of Dr. F. R. Baldwin of Minneapolis, immediately after
her return from the scene of the awful Chicago catastrophe, through which
she had passed, overwhelmed with the horror of the sights and sounds she
had seen and heard, gave the following account:
"It was too unutterably shocking for one to realize at the time. The
horror of the thing has grown upon me ever since. It fills my mind and
imagination, so I can hardly think of anything else. I cannot help feeling
almost ashamed to be here, safe and unharmed, while whole families were
burned and crushed to death in that awful place. I cannot say how glad I
am to be home and see my babies safe, when so many mothers are crying
aloud in Chicago for their children to come back to them.
"At first nobody seemed to realize the awful danger. No water was used to
put out the flames on the stage. It was only flimsy, gauzy scenery at
first that was burning, and the people on the stage tried to tear it down
and stamp it out as it fell. I heard no screams, and the people for many
moments kept their seats. I did not hear the cry of 'fire.'
"But all at once a great ball of fire or sheet of flame--I don't know how
to express it--shot out and the whole theater above us seemed to be full
of fire. Then there was a smothered sound as of a sighing by all in the
theater.
"By that time I began to realize that it was time to see what could be
done about getting out. It so happened that I could not have chosen a
better place from which to get out of the building. We were on the alley
side, opposite the Randolph street side of the building, and only two
seats from the wall.
"I did not know that there was an entrance here, but all at once the doors
seemed to be opened close to us. We had but to take two or three steps and
then were thrown forward out of the doors by the crowd behind us. My
mother, who was with me, was unhurt, and I had but a few bruises.
"One of the first things I saw as I got up was a girl lying on one of the
fire escape platforms with the flames shooting over her through the
window. One man, who jumped from the platform, had not taken two steps
before a woman who jumped a moment later from a height of about forty feet
came right down upon him, killing him upon the spot.
"The sights all about the city have been many times described, but nothing
can picture those terrible scenes. In a flat just below my mother's five
out of a family of six perished, leaving but one demented girl.
"Of another family living near us, only the husband and father was left,
his wife and four boys and his mother all having been killed in the fire.
As I passed near the theater the next day I saw a man walking up and down
in front of the building muttering to himself, and every now and then he
would sit upon the curb and look up at the building, breaking out into
peals of laughter. He had been through the fire."
GIRLS' CLUBS SORELY STRICKEN.
Mrs. Walter Raymer, wife of the alderman, attended the Iroquois in charge
of the "F. P. C.," a club of young girls, of which her daughter was
treasurer. Of the eight members only two escaped uninjured. Miss Mabel
Hunter, the president, was killed; Miss Edna Hunter was taken to her
residence, 85 Humboldt boulevard, severely injured; Miss Lillian Ackerman
was borne to the Samaritan Hospital, burned about the head and body.
Edna Hoveland was badly injured, and her little sister, who accompanied
her, was burned to death. May Marks is dead. Viva Jackson, missing all
Wednesday night, was found in the morning at an undertaker's rooms. The
two who escaped injury were Miss Abigail Raymer, daughter of the alderman,
and Miss Florence Nicholson.
The eight girls, all between sixteen and eighteen years old, had organized
their little club a few weeks ago for the purpose of literary study and
recreation, and the theater party was arranged by Mrs. Raymer as a
surprise for the members.
The Theta Pi Zeta club of the junior class of the Englewood High School,
with the exception of two members, was wiped out of existence. The club
was composed of eight young women living in Englewood and Normal Park.
Seven had purchased seats in the sixth row of the dress circle. What they
encountered after the panic started no one knows, for of the seven only
one, Miss Josephine Spencer, 7110 Princeton avenue, was saved and she was
taken to the West Side Hospital terribly burned. The only member who
entirely escaped was Miss Edith Mizen of 6917 Eggleston avenue, daughter
of Mr. and Mrs. George K. Mizen. Her parents objected to her attending a
theatrical performance.
Those who perished are Helen Howard, 6565 Yale avenue; Helen McCaughan,
6565 Yale avenue; Elvira Olson, 7010 Stewart avenue; Florence Oxnam, 435
Englewood avenue; Lillie Power, 442 West Seventieth street; and Rosamond
Schmidt, 335 West Sixty-first street.