Chicago has been the site of several infamous disasters: The Chicago Fire in 1871, the capsizing of the Eastland in 1915. But perhaps the most heart-breaking of them all was the Iroquois Theatre Fire of 1903.
Promoted as “absolutely fireproof,” the opening of the Iroquois Theatre on Randolph Street in the Loop was very much anticipated. Newspapers contained breathless accounts of the “the largest, handsomest, and most complete theatre in Chicago, if not America.”
The inaugural show was the extravaganza, Mr. Bluebeard (also spelled Mr. Blue Beard), with an advertised cast of hundreds starring Eddy Foy, a well-known comedian and vaudevillian. A highlight of the show was a “a beautiful young woman [who] makes a flight from the center of the stage, over the heads of the audience at 75 feet, circling like a bird … all while scattering roses and carnations.”
An article marveled at how quickly the building had been erected, “Such rapid work has never been performed in connection with any building enterprise.” Sadly, in order to complete the theatre in time for holiday crowds, the builders rushed construction with catastrophic consequences.
On December 30, 1903, Mr. Bluebeard had been running for five weeks, and there was a full house for the matinee. More than 1,700 people were seated in the audience, mostly women and children, with an overflow crowd of around 200 standing at the back of the house and in the aisles.
At the beginning of the second act, around 3:15 in the afternoon, an arc light that was close to a hanging border of scenery, caught the fabric on fire. Stagehands tried in vain to put the spark out. Flames soon spread to other pieces of scenery, which dropped to the stage, scattering actors.
Eddie Foy, backstage and getting into costume, heard the commotion. He ran out onto the stage in his tights and urged the audience not to panic, saying, “Don’t get excited … Don’t stampede, it’s all right.” He called for the fire curtain to be dropped (an asbestos curtain that is intended to protect an audience in case of a fire on the stage.) He also asked that the orchestra play the overture to calm the crowd, but most of the musicians were too scared. All watched in horror as the fire curtain became jammed halfway down, basically creating a vent. As cast members ran out of exit doors backstage, the rush of cold air caused a huge ball of flame to shoot out through the opening under the curtain and over the heads of the audience.
Panic and pandemonium ensued. Many of the exits were blocked or locked to prevent people from sneaking into the theatre without a ticket. Some exits had mechanisms to open the doors that were difficult to maneuver, especially in the dark. Other exits opened inward and, in the chaos, it was impossible to get people to back up to allow the doors to open. On the upper floors, fire escapes were narrow or not installed correctly. People jumped or fell from the upper floors. Workers and students at Northwestern University across the alley placed ladders and boards between the buildings to try to save people. Some made it across. Many fell to their deaths.
Almost a third of the audience would not make it out alive. All told, the official death toll was 602 (with at least 250 injured.) For comparison, 250 people died in the great Chicago Fire of 1871.
The only cast member to die was Nellie Reed, the “beautiful young woman” who was high above the auditorium waiting to drop flower petals.
One of the audience members standing near an exit was William McLaughlin, 19. His home was in Buenos Aires, where his father served as pastor at the First Methodist Episcopal Church. William was in town for his cousin’s wedding.
William was a sophomore at Ohio Wesleyan University. He decided to go sightseeing in the Loop, and as his uncle’s church was scheduled to have a service at the Iroquois Theatre, he stopped in to see the new theatre. He was standing near a rear fire escape when the fire broke out. Witnesses said he could have easily escaped, but he stayed to assist 17 women and children out of the building. Sadly, McLaughlin’s clothing caught fire and he was badly burned. He was taken next door to Northwestern but insisted that doctors attend to women and children first. He asked a reporter to let his uncle know where he was and that he knew he was not going to survive his injuries. He died the next day at the Presbyterian hospital.
Headlines struggled to find adequate words to describe what happened – “Horror,” “Calamity,” “Chamber of Horrors,” “Charnel House,” “Holocaust.” Messages of sympathy poured in from around the world. President Theodore Roosevelt sent condolences.
On Dec. 31, 1903, Architect B.H. Marshall blamed a panicked audience. One of the theater owners, Samuel Nixon, refused to believe the initial reports saying, “We spent at least 100% extra for the cost of construction in order to prevent such an accident.”
In the investigation that followed, it was clear that the theatre was anything but “fireproof” The asbestos curtain had never worked perfectly and wasn’t repaired before the opening, the theater did not have a shaft at the back of the stage to carry away flames and smoke, fire-proofing of the balcony and gallery was defective, the fire alarm was inadequate (there was no fire alarm box outside of the theatre), there were no automatic sprinklers, nor effective fire extinguishers, and exits were not marked.
William is buried in Forest Home Cemetery under a headstone stating he was “A Hero of the Iroquois Fire.” Another elaborate marker is erected for William at his family burial plot in Buenos Aires.
We continue to benefit today from improvements made in fire safety regulations as a result of this catastrophe, including illuminated exits, limits on theatre capacities, automatic sprinkler systems, flame retardant fabrics on stage, and exit doors that open outward with panic bars that stay unlocked.
Who is buried in Forest Park?
Many of the victims of the Iroquois Theatre fire are buried in Forest Park including: Ethel Barker (14); Herman Bein (18); William Beutel (24); Rose Bloom (32); Norine Boettcher (32); Miriam Cohen (52); Florence Corrigan (20s) and her friend Viola Delee (20s); Margaret Dotts (32); Rose Elkan (13); Caroline (42) and her daughter Marjorie (14) Edwards; sisters Sabine Eger (29) & Marian Reiss (35) and her children Erna (10), Ernest (11), Rose Elkan (12); Rosina Ernst (11); siblings Emil (32) & Rosa Espen (25); Ada Folke (20); Clara Graves (26) and her niece Sophia Gudehus (6); Adeline Hoffeins (24); Mary (36) & Allen (13) and Gertrude (10) and Amy (8) Holst; Viva Jackson (18); sisters Frances Kercher (22) and Florence White (25), Augusta (38) and Jacob Kochems (17), Matilda C. Johnson (58) and her grandchildren Laura (12), Matilda (10), Josephine (7) Larose; Frances Lehman (29); Millie Lowitz (22); Erle Martin (7); Lawrence McClure (13); Amy (25) and Bernard (3) McKenna; Lucile Mead (10); Anna Menzer (46); Helen Miller (23); Floy Olson (32); Ruth Payson (15); Edith Pridmore (32); William Rattey (25); Myrtle (14) and Theodore (12) Shabad; Bessie Stafford (30); Edith (35) and Bernice (9) Vallely; Simon Waldman (51); Irma Weiskopf (15); Paul (17) and Barry (12) Winder; Yetta Witkofsky (32).
References: The Inter Ocean, Epworth Herald, Chicago Daily Tribune, Iroquoistheater.com, Oak Leaves, Chicago Tribune, Chicago Live Stock World, Commercial (Bangor, ME), The Evening Telegram, Philadelphia Inquirer, The Daily Times, The Evening World, The Atchison Daily Globe, The History Channel, Smithsonian Magazine, Chicagolog