Chicago's Awful Theater Horror Part 33

CHAPTER XIX.

THE SWORN TESTIMONY OF THE SURVIVORS.

Scores and scores of witnesses a.s.sembled in the little committee rooms and antechambers of the council hall in the great Chicago administrative building, each with his story to add to the story of horror, when the inquest over the dead began on Thursday, January 7, 1904, one week and a day after the disaster.

Some were m.u.f.fled under great rolls of bandages that concealed frightful scars and burns. Others gave no outward indication of the season of terror they had pa.s.sed and survived to tell the tale. Fas.h.i.+onable theater goers, actors, actresses and stage hands, chorus girls, belted policemen and grim firemen, all met on terms of temporary equality, forming a heterogeneous a.s.semblage waiting the call to take the stand. One by one they were admitted to the vast council chamber where for days the inquisition continued.

Vast throngs of curious besieged the place, clamoring for opportunity to view the proceedings. None, save the favored few citizens to whom tickets were issued, munic.i.p.al, county and state officials and representatives of the press, enjoyed that opportunity. To them day after day a growing tale of suffering and death was unfolded such as has not fallen upon mortal ears for half a century. It was a harrowing recital that satiated and sickened the auditors and left them faint at each adjournment.

For days preceding the opening session Coroner Traeger his deputies and the six jurors had been engaged in a canva.s.s of hospitals, undertaking establishments and morgues, viewing the dead. Nor was that ghastly work over when they entered upon the semi-judicial task of taking testimony.

Ever and anon they halted the inquiry to proceed to the bedside of some victim that had died after lingering suffering. This formality was necessary before burial permits could issue. Each succeeding call brought to the jurors a shudder. Theirs was a gruesome task for the public service and they felt its burden keenly.

The trend of the statements taken were the same. Details formed the only variations. Some of the statements follow:

THE FIRST WITNESS.

John C. Galvin, 1677 West Monroe street, Chicago, the first witness heard, said:

"On the day the fire occurred I stepped into the vestibule to buy tickets for the following evening. It must have been a little after half past three. As I stepped into the entrance I looked into the lobby and turned to the ticket office, and as I did so the center doors of the lobby foyer and the outside entrance doors were blown open as though by a gust of hot air. I looked into the foyer and I saw people running toward the entrance.

I realized at once what the trouble was, and went to the lobby doors and tried to open the west door there, that being the nearest to me. It was locked on the inside and I couldn't do anything with it.

"Then I tried to pacify the people from rus.h.i.+ng or crowding, tried to save the panic, but it was no use. I would judge there were probably a dozen, not more than a dozen, cleared the door before the crush came. I recollect the first person to go down seemed to be a rather stout woman, who seemed to be free herself, somebody stepping on her skirt. She turned to gather up her skirts and she was borne down by the crowd, and then they piled on top of each other. I did what I could to release the jam, pulling the people from under the crowd and getting them out into the entrance, out into the street, but all the while the vestibule was filling up by those returning to help their friends, and people rus.h.i.+ng into the street and helping to bring the crowd to. I tried to open the outside entrance door, the west door, which I found was bolted on the inside at that time. I tried to lift the bolt, but I couldn't do that.

"Then I kicked out two of the panels. I kicked the gla.s.s out of the panels, and I then returned to the west vestibule door and I kicked out the panels of these two doors, that is, the west door, and tried to take some of the people out through the openings. After we got out of the doorway I walked back into the entrance gallery and walked around, and there was a dense smoke coming from the theater.

"I was expecting a big crush in the vestibule, a much larger crush than I saw. I thought there would be a jam on that stair, but n.o.body came down the stairs to my recollection, not a soul. They never lived to reach it.

All the time I was there I saw no one whose dress or demeanor would indicate they were policemen, firemen or attaches of the theater. I remained doing what I could to relieve the situation until driven out by the smoke. I then went across the street and watched the destruction of the theater."

MARLOWE'S EXPERIENCE.

James C. McGurn, 2 Rosemont street, Dorchester, Ma.s.s., known on the stage as James C. Marlowe:

"I was in the Garrick theater, a block distant, to see the show. At the first alarm I hurried out and went down to the Iroquois theater entrance.

I went inside and the firemen were in working at the time, getting lines of hose in there. Some of the firemen were already pouring streams through into the lobby. There was a tremendous draft there and the lobby was clear, but directly inside the door that had been opened there were dense volumes of smoke. The first thought that struck my mind, being conversant with theaters, was that there might be somebody in the house. Just then a man came in there, followed by another man, a citizen, and we were the only men in the lobby outside of the firemen. He asked for the gallery stairway and immediately after that I saw him going up the stairs to the right as you go in the lobby. He went up these stairs with his men and a fireman followed him.

"I was watching the stairs, and they were up there thirty seconds, about, when the fireman came down with the first body, a little girl, about eight years old. He shouted out to the firemen for G.o.d's sake to get up there, and all the firemen I saw in the lobby dropped everything and went up, and they weren't up there but a few seconds before they came tumbling down with bodies, and after I had remained there about three minutes more I saw dozens of bodies brought down. One fireman slipped with the body of an old lady about the fourth step and fell down on the marble floor and I helped put her into the fireman's arms. The smoke was so dense I could not see much and as I could do nothing to help any one I hurried out of the foyer."

MUSICAL DIRECTOR'S SWORN STATEMENT.

Antonio Frosolono, 170 Seminary avenue, Chicago, musical director at the ill-fated theater:

"I was in the Iroquois theater playing at that performance in the orchestra. I was not directing the performance, as the company has its own director. I was sitting sideways, facing the east door of the stage. The stage was to my left. I do not know how the fire started, only I heard a confusion.

"The 'Pale Moonlight' scene was on and sixteen people, the double octette, occupied the stage. Some of them did not sing, and some of them went out of their places. Eddie Foy came out and announced that if everybody would keep quiet everything would be all right. Then, when I turned around, the stage fireman had kicked a piece of blazing curtain down in the orchestra.

"Then the ba.s.soon player made a terrible scramble to get out, and I think he succeeded in getting out. Then after that Mr. Dolere, the musical director for the company, went out like a shot out of a gun; he went over the stand and everything. He went under the stage. Then everybody else got out. I still sat there, because I did not see much danger to myself, as I thought, or anybody else. I saw the people when they went out, and I heard the cries, and that is what attracted my attention. I stayed there until everybody else had gone out of the orchestra. The time when I thought it was time to get out was when the ba.s.s fiddle and the 'cello got to burning.

"All were excited on the stage. Some tried to put the fire out and others ran. Some one was trying to lower the curtain, but it would not come down all the way. Of a sudden it bulged out over my head like a balloon. Then the flames began to rush out from under the curtain. I saw the people rus.h.i.+ng out, some jumping over, hallooing and screaming; then I turned around at that instant to my right and saw that the violin and 'cello and ba.s.s fiddle had caught on fire at one of the music stands, and then I went out."

MRS. PETRY'S ESCAPE.

Mrs. Josephine Petry, 6014 Morgan street:

"On Wednesday afternoon at 2:15 I went to the Iroquois theater. It was late; the performance had begun. My ticket ent.i.tled me to what I thought was the balcony, but it was at the top of the house, and when I went up there the theater was dark and the people were standing four deep behind my seat.

"It was the second act, the moonlight octette, if I am not mistaken, when I saw on the left hand side behind the proscenium arch a bright light. I kept my eyes on that, because to me it did not look right, and it got brighter all the time. Eddie Foy came right beside the proscenium arch, right where the fire was on the side, over him, and told the people they should keep their seats, there was no danger. Naturally a few got up, but they sat down again. Some people said: 'Keep your seats.' I got up and some one said beside me: 'Sit down, there is nothing the matter.' I sat down again, but the glare was getting much brighter and pieces of charred cloth were falling down, although the flames by then had not come forward.

They were all behind, but you could see the light so brightly I picked up my wraps and went out.

"I went out by the same way I entered. At the lower floor about a hundred people were trying to get out. The doors were locked. When I left the charred remnants of the scenery were falling down in large chunks onto the stage, and the lights were so bright that they scared me, and I got up, but the flames had not reached the stage yet when I left, but when I got down to the exit and I turned my head there was a ma.s.s of flames behind; it was all flames, and yet I did not hear a sound."

UP AGAINST LOCKED DOORS.

Ebson Ryburn, stock broker, 3449 Prairie avenue, Chicago:

"I was at the box office with the intention of purchasing tickets for the night; I went to the box office about 3:30 p. m., and when I went in there were three or four others ahead of me. Suddenly I heard some commotion on the inside and several persons rushed out, and there must have been as many as five or six, I guess, got out, and then I heard a woman cry 'Fire.' Up to that time I did not think it was anything serious. I thought probably it was a scare and I looked in through the door and I saw more coming--rus.h.i.+ng--and I rushed over to hold the doors open, and did so for a length of time until quite a number got out, and I noticed several going to the door next to it; that is, the last door west; and then came over to this other door.

"They tried to push it open. I left where I was and went to that door and tried to force it open and could not. I saw between the two doors a bolt or a bar, and there was quite a number coming out the other door then and I saw there was no chance to come out, and I tried to open the other door opposite that leading into the street, and that door was in the same condition, locked or bolted; it was fastened; I could not get out of that door and I could not get in the other. Then there were quite a number coming out, and I noticed several men, and by that time I could see smoke, a little haze of smoke, and every one coming out seemed to be frightened, crazy-like, and so I got out myself into the street. The fire department had not yet arrived."

BLOWN INTO THE ALLEY.

Mrs. James D. Pinedo, 478 North Hoyne avenue, Chicago:

"I reached the theater to attend the fatal matinee late, about 2:25 o'clock. The performance was in progress and we could not secure seats, so we got standing room tickets and entered. When I reached the extreme right of the theater the people were only standing one deep. There was a s.p.a.ce there where I could see the stage, especially the left part of the stage where the sparks started, and the curtain had just rung up for the second act, a few minutes after the chorus was singing, when I saw a man using his hands trying to put out the sparks. When I saw those few sparks I quietly turned around to see if there was any fire escape or exit on that floor in case there should be a fire, and I didn't move because I was afraid of precipitating a panic. I simply turned my head and I saw what I supposed was an exit. I couldn't tell.

"I saw drapery and naturally supposed, being a theater-goer, that it masked an exit. I turned back to the stage then, and in the meantime these sparks had changed into flames, and I put on my rubbers--I was very calm at the time--and I got ready to move out. Eddie Foy told us to be perfectly quiet and avoid a panic, and there were also some men and women in the back part of the audience who also told the people to sit down. I have never seen an audience who were saner than these women and children.

They sat perfectly still I should say for at least two minutes, while those sparks changed into flames. They were perfectly calm. I think most of these women realized there were little children there. The audience was nearly packed full of children.

"Then I saw the big ball of flame come out from the stage and fall in the auditorium of the theater on the heads of those in front, and I thought, 'Now is the time to get out.' I walked quietly to what I thought was an exit, and there was a little man there before me, who had torn aside the drapery, and I saw an iron door or doors heavily bolted, and we couldn't get them open. It was bolted and I heard this man ask the usher to please unlock the door, and he refused. The usher was standing there and we were frantically, of course, trying to get the door open, but it would not open, and I judge we were standing at least two minutes, probably a minute and a half--time that seemed long enough in a case like that.

"Finally the man induced this usher to try and open the door. At least they were trying to, the two of them, and I was right behind them--trying to open that door--when all of a sudden there was a rush of wind. I thought at the time it was an explosion, because I didn't know of any force powerful enough to open those iron doors, and those iron doors blew open, and blew us into the alley. Of course that is my last recollection.

I was then safe."

JUST OUT IN TIME.

Ella M. Churcher, 850 Was.h.i.+ngton boulevard, Chicago:

"I occupied the fourth row from the front in the top gallery, seats 42, 43 and 44, with my mother and nephew. I was sitting in the middle. A shower of sparks was the first suggestion of fire. Then the curtain was lowered and Eddie Foy stepped out. I couldn't hear his words, but his motions were to sit down and keep our seats, and we did so until I saw the red curtain that went down after the first act give away in the upper left hand corner and pieces fell, making a large opening. It was on fire.

"Then we got up and had to go about ten feet, that took us to the wall, and three steps to go up to the exit leading to the marble stairway. As we turned the last look I caught was a tongue of fire leaping to the gallery and a cloud of smoke with it, and we got the heat from it, scorching and blistering both of my ears and both my nostrils and scorching my hair and chiffon boa on my neck. At that instant we stepped out on the marble stairway, right out of it, and we got down stairs safely, and then we pa.s.sed out to the street."