Lest We Forget: Chicago's Awful Theater Horror

"I was on the floor of the stage about twenty feet from the light," he said. "The base of the light was on a bridge fifteen feet from the floor. The light was about five feet high and was within a foot and a half or two feet of the edge of the proscenium arch and close to the curtains. I saw the flame running up the edge of the curtain and ran to the bridge. I threw kilfire on the burning curtain but saw it did not stop the blaze and yelled to those below to lower the asbestos curtain. When the curtain was within fifteen feet of the stage floor the draft caused it to bulge out and stick fast. It was impossible to lower the curtain further, and after that nothing could be done to stop the fire.

"In my opinion the draft was caused by the doors opening off the stage into the alley and Dearborn street. There were no explosions except the blowing out of fuses in the electric lighting system."

Saller was severely burned about the hands and face.

THE STAGE CARPENTER

Edward Cummings, stage carpenter, and his son, R. N. Cummings, his assistant, of 1116 California avenue, testified that the fire started in the curtains at the south end of the stage. Both asserted that the draft or suction caused the asbestos curtain to stick. They said the fire spread with remarkable rapidity among the curtains, which were about two feet apart, and when the asbestos curtain stopped they said that no human agency could have prevented the disaster that followed.

THE CHIEF ELECTRICAL INSPECTOR'S TALE

Chief Electrical Inspector H. H. Hornsby of the city electrician's department declared the electric wires in the theater were in the best condition of any building in Chicago.

"The wire leading to the calcium arc light might have been broken or detached," he said. "It requires no volts of electricity to operate one of those lights. The man operating the light may have got his legs or arms entangled in the wires and broken one of them at the point of connection or he may have pulled the light too far and broken or detached the wire. The arc created would have produced intense heat and readily ignited the inflammable curtain. If the light had not been set so close to the scenery the curtain could not have blown into the arc.

"While the theater was being wired Inspector B. H. Tousley made twenty-five or thirty inspections. Though the ordinance requires only such wires as are concealed to be placed in iron conduits, in the Iroquois all wires were put in iron tubes. The switchboard was of marble, with the connecting wires behind it in iron conduits. The management seemed desirous of making the electric system the best possible and adopted every suggestion we offered to improve its safety. I am satisfied there was not a better job in Chicago. I do not believe it could have been made safer.

"It is impossible to guard against a wire being broken. The wire leading from the switchboard could not be inclosed in an iron conduit. It had to be flexible to permit the light being moved around. The arc light was encased in a closed box to prevent sparks falling on the floor or being blown into the scenery. All the fusible plugs were in cartridges to prevent sparks from falling if the plugs burned out. Every precaution we could think of was taken to make the system absolutely safe."

ONE OF THE COMEDIANS SPEAKS

Herbert Cawthorn, the Irish comedian, who took the part of Pat Shaw in "Mr. Bluebeard," assisted many of the chorus girls from the stage exits in the panic. After being driven from the building he made two attempts to enter his dressing room, but was driven back by the firemen, who feared lest he be overcome by the dense smoke.

With several others of the leading actors in the play Mr. Cawthorn took refuge in a store on Dearborn street after the fire. He was still in his abbreviated stage costume and was suffering considerably from the cold.

He gave a graphic description of the origin of the fire and of the panic among the stage hands and actors. He described the scene as follows:

"I was in a position to see the origin of the fire plainly, and I feel positive that it was an electric calcium light that started the fire. The calcium lights were being used to illuminate the stage in the latter part of the second act, when the song, 'In the Pale Moonlight,' was being sung.

"I was standing behind a wing on the lefthand side, which would be the righthand side to the audience, when my attention was attracted above by a peculiar sputtering of what seemed to me to be one of the calciums. It appears to me that one of the calciums had flared up and the sparks ignited the lint on the curtain. Instantly I turned my attention toward the stage and saw that many of the actors and actresses had not yet discovered the blaze.

"Just then the fireman who is kept behind the scenes rushed up with some kind of a patent fire extinguisher. Instead of the stream from the apparatus striking the flames it went almost in the opposite direction. While the stage fireman was working the flames suddenly swooped down and out. Eddie Foy shouted something about the asbestos curtain, and the firemen attempted to use it and the stage hands ran to his assistance.

"The asbestos curtain refused to work, and the stage hands and players began to hurry from the theater. There was at least 500 people behind the scenes when the fire started. I assisted many of the chorus girls to get out, and some of them were only partly attired. Two of the young women in particular were naked from their waists up. They had absolutely no time to even snatch a bit of clothing to throw over their shoulders."

ABOUT THE LIGHTS

A dozen different stories from a dozen different people were told about the extinguishment of the electric lights. Assistant City Electrician Hyland, who was the acting head of the city's department during the absence of City Electrician Ellicott, stated:

"The switchboard controlling the electric lighting apparatus is located under the place where the fire started at the left side of the stage. It was made of metal and marble and practically indestructible. The wires were led into the switchboard through iron tubes, and those tubes and wires are there yet. I visited the theater after the fire and turned on five sets of lights. Those five were in working order, but I think they controlled the lights into the foyer and halls. The lights in the theater were burned out. That I know, because when I paid my first visit to the switchboard I found the switch affecting the lights in the auditorium turned on. The terrific heat in the theater when the fire was sweeping across it must have burst the glass bulbs and may have melted the wires leading into the lights in the auditorium. How many minutes it took to explode these incandescent lights and melt the wires running to them depends entirely upon the length of time it took the theater to turn into a furnace.

"I have been told that a moonlight scene was on the stage just before the fire broke out. In such a scene it would be customary to turn off most if not all of the lights in the auditorium, so as to darken the place where the audience was and concentrate upon the stage what little light was used. Yet, the way I found the switchboard, with the circuit leading to the auditorium turned on, the knob melted off and the condition of the board showing that it could not have been tampered with since the fire, convinces me that the lights must have been on when the fire broke out, or else they were turned on after the first flames were discovered. It is hard to discover the facts even from people who were in the theater at the time it was burned. Almost every one tells a different story."

CHAPTER VIII.

SUGGESTIONS OF ARCHITECTS AND OTHER EXPERTS AS TO AVOIDING LIKE CALAMITIES

Robert S. Lindstrom, a well known Chicago architect, makes the following suggestions: "It is earnestly requested that the following suggestions be published for the benefit and warning of patrons of public places, also as an aid to city officials, architects and builders, as a possible means of averting another horror such as has been witnessed in the Iroquois theater fire.

"Every theater in Chicago is virtually a death trap set for patrons even under ordinary conditions. Barring fires and panics, the playhouses are not amply provided with exits, and are unsafe on account of overcrowding. Thereby each person attending a performance in any of Chicago's theaters does so at a risk of his own life. This also applies to all halls that are hurriedly arranged for public meetings and especially during the election campaign work and convention gatherings.

"A theater may be absolutely fire-proof, but when the seating capacity of the house has been overcrowded by reducing sizes of stairs, aisles and exits the building is really worse than a non-fire-proof building, for in the latter the smoke would have a chance to escape.

"The following suggestions will partially avert such a horror as has been witnessed at the Iroquois, which was advertised as the safest fire-proof theater in Chicago:

"All seats throughout the house should be placed far enough apart from back to back so that an open passageway running from aisle to aisle shall be large enough to allow a person to get out without disturbing all the people seated in the section. In the Iroquois the seats in the gallery are so closely spaced from back to back that one cannot sit in a comfortable position at any time. All seats should be made of iron framework, with seats fixed so that danger of catching clothing on upturned edges may be averted, which in the present theater seats causes very much delay in a rush. The upholstering should be done with asbestos wool and all covering done with asbestos fire-resisting cloth.

"An aisle should be left between the orchestra and the front row of seats. Main aisles should be made so that they connect with the aisle in front, also the aisle in rear, without any obstructions, and an exit door placed at end of each aisle leading directly to the vestibule. The present system is one large door at the center so that people from the side aisles collide with those from the center aisles and no one can get out. It is also very important that the door opening, with doors open, is a trifle larger than the aisle; all seats that face on aisles to be plain to prevent clothing from catching on same.

"Carpets should be prohibited in all halls and aisles and replaced by interlocking rubber tile or some similar covering to prevent slipping in a rush.

"All steps should have safety treads, composed of steel and lead, in place of slate or marble, which becomes slippery and dangerous. Stairs to be straight without winds or turns and at every ten feet from the sidewalk there should be a landing twice as long as the width of the stairs and doors at the foot of the stairs should be a trifle larger than the stair opening.

"All balconies and galleries above the first floor should have a metal hand rail back of each row of seats securely fastened to the floor construction.

"Doors should swing out; in addition to door handle threshold to have an automatic opening device so as to throw doors open in case of fire or accident. Also at each fire exit there should be in view of the audience a box containing saw and tools and plainly marked for use in case of fire, providing locks on doors fail to work. In addition an attendant should be placed at each fire exit and remain there until the house is vacated during every performance.

"Fire escapes should be made of regular stair pattern with treads eleven inches and rises seven inches, and treads provided with steel and lead composition covering and risers closed.

"Instead of sloping the ceiling toward the stage it should be made level with a cone shape toward the center and there connect with a down draft ventilator and an emergency damper controlled by a three-way switch from stage, box office and each balcony, made large enough to form a smoke flue in case of fire. Wires controlling this ventilator should run in conduit fireproofed and in addition to switch an electric emergency switch weighted with a fused link to make a contact when link breaks. Same to apply to stage, halls and stairways, except that fireproof ducts will connect halls and stairs with outer air. In addition to the ventilator every part of the house should be equipped with a system of sprinklers operated automatically by a gravity system. A large glass chandelier such as used at the Iroquois should be prohibited.

"Emergency lights in case of fire and accidents during the performance to light up the house should be placed on ceiling of main auditorium, balconies, halls and stairs and built of fire-proof boxes with wired plate-glass face. These lights should be operated on a separate system and run in fireproof conduits, and controlled from the street front, also to have a fusible weighted switch on stage.

"Fire doors should be constructed of steel with wired plate-glass panels so that fire can be prevented from outside sources, but if in case of accident the lock should fail to work from the inside, the glass panel can be broken with tools that should be placed in reach and plainly marked.

"Calcium lights should be prohibited anywhere in the auditorium. The place is generally on the gallery. In the Iroquois the scenic lights were placed at the extreme top of the upper gallery, with a supporting framework that rested on the aisle floor and obstructed aisle to audience.

"Counter-weights of curtain should be made in sections with fusible link connections so that in case of fire curtain will drop of its own weight.

"Curtain should be constructed of steel framework and made rigid and run in steel guides of sufficient size to allow for expansion in case of fire. Stage floor should be four inches thick, solid, laid on concrete bed.

"A special waiting room with a special exit, entrance to same to be from main foyer, should be used especially for patrons using carriages so as to prevent the present system of blocking exits and vestibule with people waiting for carriages and preventing exit of crowd.

"On stage of every theater there should be a fire plug, also a hose long enough to reach any part of the house, to run on a reel.

"A loss of life in a panic cannot be entirely prevented, but some of the above suggestions if carried out will, at least, prevent a wholesale loss of human life.

"All theaters should be thoroughly investigated and where the slightest detail is found to conflict with the law and the safety of an audience the city officials should prevent the use of such house until it has been properly constructed."

THE ARCHITECT SPEAKS

Benjamin H. Marshall, architect of the theater, received the news of the disaster in Pittsburg, Pa., and at once started for Chicago. He was stunned by the intelligence, and, speaking of it, said:

"This seems to be a calamity that has no precedent, and I can not understand how so many people were caught in the balconies unless they were stunned by the shock of an explosion. There were ample fire exits and they were available. The house could have been emptied in less than five minutes if they were all utilized. The fact that so many people were caught in the balconies would prove that they were stunned and panic-stricken by the report rather than by the fear of a fire. It is difficult for me at this time to even guess as to the cause for the great loss of life.

"I am completely upset by this disaster, more so because I have built many theaters and have studied every playhouse disaster in history to avoid errors."

EXAMINATION BY ARCHITECTURAL EDITOR

Robert Craik McLean, editor of the Inland Architect, who spent some time investigating the claim that the theater was equipped with an asbestos fire curtain, said: "After a careful investigation, I am convinced that the theater was not equipped with a curtain such as is demanded by the city ordinances.

"I visited the damaged theater, but there was no sign of an asbestos curtain. Fire will not destroy asbestos, and if there was a curtain there when the holocaust occurred it had been removed, and an investigation should be made to learn what became of it. If no curtain had been removed, as is claimed, I cannot understand how the claim can be set up that the theater had a fire curtain. No one denies that there was a curtain there, but had it been made of asbestos, as required by the ordinance, it would not have been destroyed by the draft of air, as is claimed by the management of the house. An asbestos curtain must have a foundation of wire or some other material, and had the Iroquois been equipped with such a drop the wire screen, at least, would be there to prove it."

"Mr. Samuel Frankenstein of the Frankenstein Calcium Light company, made the statement to me that he had had a conversation with the stage manager of the Iroquois regarding the fire drop. Mr. Frankenstein said that the stage manager told him that the Iroquois stage was not equipped with a true fire curtain. According to Mr. Frankenstein, the stage manager went further than this, and declared that there were only three theaters in Chicago equipped with real asbestos drops."

PROPOSED PRECAUTIONS FOR NEW YORK THEATERS

Charles H. Israels of the firm of Israels & Harder, architects of the new Hudson theater, and several of the large hotels, suggested a number of precautions which might be adopted in New York theaters. Among other things he advocated an ordinance requiring all the theater emergency exits to be used after each performance.

"Nearly every modern theater in this city," Mr. Israels said, "is adequately provided with exits, with which the audience are not familiar, and which are used so seldom that the employes are unused to having the audience pass out through them. Besides the one exit ordinarily in use there are four emergency exits, and the law requires them to open either on a brick enclosed alley at the side of the theater or directly into the street.

"The people in the gallery, who are in the place of the greatest danger, would undoubtedly become thoroughly accustomed to using these outside stairways.

"The main advantage to be gained by this suggestion over all others is that it could be put into immediate operation without the spending of a single cent on the part of the owners of most of New York's playhouses.

"In a few of the theaters it might be argued that the stairways at the emergency exits were not sufficiently inclosed to allow the crowds to pass down in safety. The law now requires the stairways to be covered at the top, and covering the outside rail with heavy wire mesh raised about two feet above its present level would prevent any one from falling over the side.

"Fireproof scenery or scenery which will at least not flame, is a practical possibility now. The building code should compel the use of scenery on frames of light metal covered with canvas that has been saturated in a fireproof solution. Fireproof paint is compulsory on the woodwork behind the proscenium wall, but in painting scenery combustible paint may be used.

"The law should be most strictly enforced as to the cleaning out of rubbish beneath the stage. In a number of the theaters of New York this is done only occasionally."

CHAPTER IX.

THIRTY EXITS, YET HUNDREDS PERISH IN AWFUL BLAST

Those in greatest danger through proximity to the stage did not throw their weight against the mass ahead. Not many died on the first floor, proof of the contention that some restraint existed in this section of the audience.

Women were trodden under foot near the rear; some were injured. The most at this point, however, were rescued by the determined rush of the policeman at the entrance and of the doorkeeper and his assistants.

The theater had thirty exits. All were opened before the fire reached full headway, but some had to be forced opened. Only one door at the Randolph street entrance was open, the others being locked, according, it appears, to custom.

From within and without these doors were shattered in the first two minutes after the fire broke out – by theater employes, according to one report, by the van of the fleeing multitude and the first of the rescuers from the street, according to another.

The doors to the exits on the alley side, between Randolph and Lake streets, in one or more instances, are declared by those who escaped to have been either frozen or rusted. They opened to assaults, but priceless seconds were lost.

Before this time Foy had run back across the stage and reached the alley. With him fled the members of the aerial ballet, the last of the performers to get out. The aerialists owed their lives to the boy in charge of the fly elevator. They were aloft, in readiness for their flight above the heads of the audience. The elevator boy ran his cage up even with the line of fire, took them in, and brought them safely down.

As Foy and the group reached the outer doorway the stage loft collapsed and tons of fire poured over the stage.

The lights went out in the theater with this destruction of the switchboard and all stage connections. One column of flame rose and swished along the ceiling of the theater. Then this awful illumination also was swallowed up. None may paint from personal understanding that which took place in that pit of flame lit darkness. None lives to tell it.

To those still caught in the structure the light of life went out when the electric globes grew dark.

In spite of the terrible form of their destruction, it came swiftly enough to shorten pain. This at least was true of those who died in the second balcony, striving to reach the alley exits abreast of them.

Six and seven feet deep they were found, not packed in layers but jumbled and twisted in the struggle with one another.

Opposite the westernmost exit of the balcony – on the alley – was a room in the Northwestern University building (the old Tremont house) where painters were working, wiping out the traces of another fire.

They heard the sound of the detonation of the fuse; they heard the rush of feet toward the exit across the way. Out on the iron stairway came a man, pushed by a power behind, himself crazy with fear. He would have run down the iron fire escape, but flames burst out of the exit beneath and wrapped themselves around the iron ladder.

HORRIBLE SIGHT MET THE FIREMEN UPON ENTERING AUDITORIUM

The postures in which death was met showed how the end had come to many.

A husband and wife were locked so tightly in one another's arms that the bodies had to be taken out together. A woman had thrown her arms around a child in a vain effort to save her. Both were burned beyond recognition.

The sight of the children's bodies broke down the composure of the most restrained of the rescuers. As little form after form was brought out the tears ran down the faces of policemen, firemen and bystanders. Small hands were clenched before childish faces – fruitless attempts at protection from the scorching blast.

Most of the children could be recognized. Fate allowed that thin shadow of mercy. They fell beneath their taller companions. The flames reached them, but they were face downward, other forms were above them, and generally their features were spared.

The persons crowded off the fire escape platform, and those who jumped voluntarily by their own death saved persons on the lower floor from injury. Scores jumped from the exits at the first balcony, the first to death and injury, the ones behind to comparative safety on the thick cushion of the bodies of those who preceded them and who fell from the balcony above. Other hundreds from the main floor jumped on to the same cushion – an easy distance of six feet – without any injury.

When the firemen came they spread nets, but the nets were black, and in the gloom they could not be seen. They saved few lives – argument for the use of white nets hereafter.

The chain of mishaps surrounding the catastrophe extended to the fire alarm. There was no fire alarm box in front of the theater, as at other theaters. A stage hand ran down the alley to South Water street and by word of mouth turned in a "still" alarm to No. 13. The box alarm did not follow for some precious minutes. At least four minutes were lost in this way.

Of the 900 persons seated in the first and second balconies few if any escaped without serious injury.

So fiercely the fire burned during the short time in which hundreds of lives were sacrificed that the velvet cushions of the balcony seats were burned bare.