Lest We Forget: Chicago's Awful Theater Horror

Kenosha was in deep mourning. Trade was practically suspended and the people gathered on the streets in little groups discussing the one topic. Four bodies were brought to the city on the evening train, and a crowd of over a thousand people gathered at the railway station, and walked in silence through the streets behind the hearses. All the bodies were taken to the morgue, from which place they will be removed to the stricken homes.

FIVE OF ONE FAMILY DEAD

The story of the wiping out of the children of H. S. Van Ingen, the former manager of the Pennsylvania Coal Company in Chicago, and a resident of Kenosha, is one of the saddest stories of the tragedy. Following the custom established years ago, Mr. and Mrs. Van Ingen and their five children, Grace, twenty-three years old; Jack, twenty; Edward L., nineteen; Margaret, fourteen; and Elizabeth, nine, had all come to Chicago for a matinee party. Schuyler, another son, the sole survivor of the children, was to join the family for a dinner and family reunion at the Wellington hotel after the matinee. The seven persons were seated in the front row of the balcony when the panic ensued, and Mr. Van Ingen, marshaling his little force, started for the exit at the aisle, but the mighty crush of people separated the parents from the children, and Mr. Van Ingen, putting his arm around Mrs. Van Ingen, carried her one way, while the children were swept the other.

The last Mr. Van Ingen saw of the children was when Jack, the oldest boy, took his little sister, Elizabeth, in his arms and shouted to his father: "You save mother and I'll look after the rest." In another moment the party, including the children, was trampled down.

Mr. and Mrs. Van Ingen started to return to the theater for the children and both of them were fearfully burned in the attempt. The bodies of the two boys were located in the evening. Margaret and Elizabeth were found the next day. Grace, the oldest daughter, and one of the best known young women of Kenosha, was identified still later. Mr. and Mrs. Van Ingen, both terribly burned, were taken to the Illinois Hospital.

COOPER BROTHERS DEEPLY MOURNED

Willis Cooper was one of the best known men in Kenosha. He was the secretary of the great Twentieth Century movement in the Methodist Episcopal Church which resulted in $20,000,000 being raised for missions. He was last year the prohibition candidate for governor of Wisconsin, and was recently elected head of the lay delegation of the Wisconsin churches at the general conference of the Methodist Church. Mr. Cooper was a millionaire, and his gifts to church charities often exceeded $10,000 a year. In Kenosha he was the general manager of the Chicago Kenosha Hosiery Works, the largest stocking making plant in the world.

Charles F. Cooper, his brother, was the factory manager and general salesman of the company. He was the president of the Kenosha Manufacturers' Association, of the Kenosha Hospital Association, and the Masonic Temple Association. He was the founder of profit-sharing in the Kenosha plant, and under his direction it became known as the plant "where the life of the worker is flooded with sunshine." He was most popular with the working classes in Kenosha, and when his body was taken to the morgue hundreds of men and women stood with uncovered heads while it passed.

There occurred between the acts at the Century theater, St. Louis, on New Year's night, an unusual incident, when C. H. Congdon, of Chicago, arose from his seat and related incidents of the Iroquois theater tragedy.

He had proceeded only for a few minutes when some one in the audience began singing "Nearer, My God, to Thee," which was immediately taken up by the whole audience, the orchestra joining in with the accompaniment.

CHAPTER XV.
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.

CHAPTER XVI.
EDDIE FOY'S SWORN TESTIMONY

Eddie Foy, whose real name is Edwin Fitzgerald, has faced many audiences under all conditions and circumstances during his stage career of a quarter of a century, during which he rose from a street urchin to the distinction of one of America's most entertaining and unctuous comedians. Never before had such interest centered in his appearance as when on Thursday afternoon, January 7, 1904, he took the witness stand to relate under oath what he knew concerning the calamity of the preceding week.

The actor's face was a study. His deep-lined countenance, ordinarily irresistibly funny without effort on his part, took on a truly tragic aspect as he entered upon his story. His indescribable, husky voice that has made hundreds of thousands laugh with merriment, was broken; there was no suggestion of humor in it. Instead it was a wail from the tomb, the utterance of a man broken with the weight of the woe he had beheld in a few brief, fleeting moments.

The questions were propounded by Coroner Traeger and Major Lawrence Buckley, his chief deputy, and were promptly and fully answered by the comedian.

The full text, as secured through a stenographic report, follows:

Q. Will you kindly tell us, Mr. Foy, or Fitzgerald, in your own way, what transpired?

A. Well, I went to the matinee with my little boy, six years old, and I wanted to put him in the front of the theater to see the show. I sent him out before the first act by the stage manager, and he took him out and brought him back and said there were no seats. I sent him downstairs and put him in a little alcove that is next to the switchboard, underneath where they claim the fire started, and where I saw the fire first.

Q. That is on what side of the stage?

A. On my right facing the audience. On the south side of the stage. The second act was on. I was in my dressing-room tying my shoes, and I heard a noise, and I didn't pay much attention to it at first. I says to myself, "Are they fighting again down there" – there was a fight there about a week or two ago; and I says, "They are fighting again." I looked out of the door and heard the buzz getting stronger and stronger, with this excitement, and I thought of my boy and I ran down the steps. I was in the middle dressing-room on the side, and I ran down screaming "Bryan." I got him at the first entrance right in front of the switchboard, and looked up and saw a fireman there. I don't know what he was doing; he was trying to put the fire out. Then the two lower borders running up the side of this canvas were burning. I grabbed my boy and rushed to the back door, and there was a lot of people trying to get out.

DESCRIBES STAGE BOX

Q. What door?

A. The little stage door on Dearborn street.

Q. How did you find that door – was it open?

A. No. I knew where the door was.

Q. Was the door open when you got there?

A. Yes; they were breaking through it.

Q. Who?

A. All of our people.

Q. Employees on the stage?

A. Not many of them. It was crowded there, and I threw my boy to a man. I says: "Take this boy out," and ran out on the footlights to the audience. When I did they were in a sort of panic, as I thought, and what I said exactly I don't remember, but this was the substance – my idea was to get the curtain down and quietly stop the stampede. I yelled, "Drop the curtain and keep up your music." I didn't want a stampede, because it was the biggest audience I ever played to of women and children. I told them to be quiet and take it easy "Don't get excited" – and they started up on this second balcony on my left to run, and I says, "Sit down; it is all right; don't get excited." And they were going that way, and I said to the policeman, "Let them out quietly," and they moved then, and I says, "Let down the curtain," and I looked up and this curtain was burning – the fringe on the edge of it.

WOULD NOT COME DOWN

Q. It was caught, was it?

A. It did not come down.

Q. How near to the bottom of the stage was it?

A. Three feet above my head. I would have been outside if the curtain had come down.

Q. It was lowered down after you hallooed?

A. I hallooed for it to come down.

Q. And it came down that far and then caught?

A. I did not see it come down, but it was there when I looked up.

Q. When you looked up it was caught, was it?

A. Yes, sir, it must have been caught – it didn't come down. Then when I was hallooing, I kept hallooing for the curtain to come down – how many times I don't know – and talked to this man to let them out quietly, there was a sort of a cyclone; the thing was flying behind me; I felt it coming.

Q. What do you mean by a cyclone – cyclone of what?

A. It was a whirl of smoke when I looked around – the scenery had broken the slats it was nailed to; it came down behind me, and I didn't know whether to go in front or behind. The stage was covered with smoke, and it was a cold draft, and there was an explosion of some kind like you light a match and the box goes off. I didn't know whether to go front or not, so I thought of my boy – maybe the man did not take him out – so I rushed out the first thing and went back of the stage.

Q. You went out yourself, then?

A. Yes, sir, and I was looking for my boy all the way in. I wasn't sure he was out. I found him in the street.

Q. Do you know what started the fire, Mr. Fitzgerald?

A. No, sir.

LIGHT NEAR THE FIRE

Q. Was there any light of any kind near where you first saw the fire?

A. Yes, sir.

Q. What kind of a light?

A. A lens light – one that you throw spot light on people with.

Q. How close was that to the drop that was on fire?

A. That I could not tell – there were three or four drops on fire when I got there for the boy.

Q. They were all close together?

A. Yes.

Q. Too high up for anybody to reach?

A. Impossible.

Q. Were there any other fires of any kind, fires or lights, near those drops or the fire, besides this drop light?

A. That was the only one I saw.

Q. Then there would not be anything else able to ignite those drops, only this light?

A. I should think so, yes.

Q. You are satisfied in your own mind that it was caused from that light.

A. That it was caused from that light.

Q. You have been playing there in the theater since "Mr. Bluebeard, Jr.," started, or since the theater opened, haven't you?

A. Yes, sir.

Q. Do you know of any drill or any precautions that were taken by the management or parties in charge of the theater in emergency cases in the case of fire – that is, drilling or handling the employees as to what they should do in case of fire?

A. No. I know I couldn't smoke in the theater; the policeman was around there all the time in the dressing-rooms.

SAW NO EXTINGUISHERS

Q. Did you notice any fire extinguishers of any kind on the stage?

A. No, sir, I did not.

Q. Any appliances of any kind to be used in case of fire?

A. No. I don't think I did; there might have been.

Q. Did you notice any fire extinguishers in your dressing-room?

A. No, sir.

Q. Did you ever notice while in the theater whether there was any policeman or fireman stationed on the stage or around the stage?

A. Yes, sir, there was a fireman there always on the stage.

Q. Did you ever hear while in the theater of an asbestos curtain there?

A. I cannot say that I did.

Q. Did you ever hear of a fireproof curtain there?

A. Yes, sir.

Q. Did it take long for this curtain that you say was down and stuck to burn?

A. I couldn't stay there long enough to see if it was burning – it was on fire.

Q. You have had a good deal of experience in theaters?

A. Thirty-five years.

Q. Would you consider that there was as good a protection taken at the Iroquois theater as there was in the average theater throughout the country in cases of fire?

A. You mean in the construction of the theater?

Q. Not the construction, but I would say in the management, and in the furnishing of fire extinguishers and appliances to extinguish fires.

A. Well, I never took notice of the fire extinguisher. If a man would look at that stage he would naturally think they couldn't possibly have a fire without everybody getting out in front of the theater.

Q. I didn't ask you that. My question was, in your experience in traveling through the theaters in different cities, would you consider there was as good protection taken on the Iroquois stage to extinguish fire, as there was in the average theater throughout the country?

A. Well, I couldn't say; I never took notice of what was on the stage to extinguish fires.

Q. Did you at any other theater?

A. Well, I have seen fire extinguishers around at times.

TALKS OF APPARATUS

Q. In theaters where you have noticed these fire extinguishers, what part of the theater did you see them in?

A. Well, they were fire extinguishers like a man would put on his back, with a strap to it.

Q. Where were they?

A. On the platform in the theater.

Q. Did you notice anything of that kind at the Iroquois theater?

A. No, sir, I did not; I cannot say that I did.

Q. Now, if you did not see those appliances, you did not see them when you went in the stage entrance?

A. No, sir.

Q. You say you saw them in other stage entrances?

A. Yes, sir.

Q. You didn't see them at the Iroquois theater?

A. No, sir, not any time I was there.

Q. Did you see any hose of any kind that could be used in cases of fire?

A. I don't know whether there was any; I didn't see any.

Q. Did you know of any other fire that occurred in the theater previous to this one?

A. No, sir.

Q. You have been with the company for how long?

A. I played right along with it in Wisconsin and New York last season, and opened in Pittsburg with it and have been with it ever since.

Q. Did you play at Cleveland?

A. Yes, sir.

Q. What was the date of the fire in Cleveland?

A. I don't know the date; there was a fire on the stage.

Q. Was the cause the same as at this fire?

A. No; the flies caught fire at this fire. This was on the stage. They could not get at this fire.

Q. What caused it?

A. That I don't know, sir.

Q. Did you consider it a dangerous lot of scenery to travel with, lights and scenery combined?

A. I don't know; I consider all scenery dangerous.

Q. Did you consider this dangerous?

A. No, sir.

ONLY ONE EXIT OPEN

Q. Were both of the exits on the stage open?

A. Only one door, a little door that we go through always was open when I went out.

Question by Foreman Meyer of the Jury: Mr. Foy, when you came out to the footlights to try to quiet the people and you cried for the curtain to come down, did you see the curtain come down?

A. I did not see the curtain come down. I screamed for the curtain to come down, and I told the orchestra to keep up the music, and then I addressed the audience, thinking I would get the curtain down. I would have been in front of the curtain if it came down.

Q. You said at the same time you looked around?

A. I looked around, yes, sir.

Q. What was the color of the curtain as you looked at it?

A. I couldn't tell the color. It was right over my head.

Q. Could you tell from any observation at any time before that?

A. No, sir.

Question by Juror Cummings: When you counseled the audience to keep quiet were you working on the assumption that there was a fire brigade on the stage?

A. Well, my idea was to get the curtain down and stop the panic. The audience was composed of women and children.

Question by Deputy Buckley: From the time that you first heard the noise, when you were in the dressing-room until you got out, about what time elapsed?

A. Well, I have been trying to figure that out in my own mind. I don't think it was ninety seconds.

WIRE ACROSS AUDITORIUM

Q. Do you know, Mr. Foy, whether there was a wire extending from the stage across the auditorium to any of the balconies or any part of the theater or auditorium outside?

A. Yes, sir.

Q. Where was that wire located?

A. The wire hung from the center of the auditorium to the side of the stage, to where the fire, they say, started, on my right-hand side facing the audience.

Q. Was that the side of the stage where the curtain was caught?

A. I could not say. I have been trying to fix that in my mind.

Q. You cannot say whether it was hung on the wire on the right or left hand side?

A. No, sir. I should not think that it had anything to do with it.

Q. Was that stationary?

A. It hung from the front, and it was unhooked and put on the woman when she went out in the air.

Q. Did any part of it go behind the curtain?

A. Yes, it went behind the curtain, but that could not have possibly stopped it, because it would have broken it. I don't think the curtain was low enough down to touch it, because the girl is only a little girl, Miss Reed, and they had to hook it on her.

Q. About how high up was the wire?

A. Well, so that a man like the stage manager would take it off and the man that was assisting in this flying ballet would hook it on this little girl that flew out.

Q. She was killed?

A. She was killed.