Iroquois Theatre Fire - The Fire

The Fire

On December 30, 1903, the Iroquois presented a matinee performance of the popular Drury Lane musical Mr. Bluebeard, which had been playing at the Iroquois since opening night. The play, a burlesque of the traditional Bluebeard folk tale, featured Dan McAvoy as Bluebeard and Eddie Foy as Sister Anne, a role that allowed him to showcase his physical comedy skills. Attendance since opening night had been disappointing, people having been driven away by poor weather, labor unrest, and other factors. The December 30 performance drew a much larger sellout audience, with every seat being filled and hundreds of patrons in the "standing room" areas at the back of the theatre. Many of the estimated 2,000 patrons attending the matinee were children. The standing room areas were so crowded that some patrons instead sat in the aisles, blocking the exits.

At about 3:15 P.M., the beginning of the second act, a dance number was in progress when an arc light shorted out and sparks ignited a muslin curtain. A stagehand attempted to douse the fire with the Kilfyre canisters provided but it quickly spread to the fly gallery high above the stage where several thousand square feet of highly flammable painted canvas scenery flats were hung. The stage manager attempted to lower the fire curtain, but it snagged. Although early reports state that it was stopped by the trolley-wire that carried one of the acrobats over the stage, later investigation showed that the curtain had been blocked by a light reflector which stuck out under the proscenium arch. A chemist who later tested part of the curtain stated that it was mainly wood pulp mixed with asbestos, and would have been "of no value in a fire."

Foy, who was preparing to go on stage at the time, ran out and attempted to calm the crowd, first making sure his young son was in the care of a stagehand. He later wrote, "It struck me as I looked out over the crowd during the first act that I had never before seen so many women and children in the audience. Even the gallery was full of mothers and children." Foy's role in this disaster was recreated by Bob Hope in the film The Seven Little Foys. Foy was widely seen as a hero after the fire for his courage in remaining on stage and pleading with patrons not to panic even as large chunks of burning scenery landed around him.

By this time, many of the patrons on all levels were quickly attempting to flee the theatre. Some had located the fire exits hidden behind draperies on the north side of the building, but found that they could not open the unfamiliar bascule lock. One door was opened by a man who happened to have a bascule lock in his home and two were opened either by brute force or by a blast of air, but most of the other doors could not be opened. Some patrons panicked, crushing or trampling others in a desperate attempt to escape the fire. Many were killed while trapped in dead ends or while attempting to open windows that were designed to look like doors.

The dancers on stage were also eventually forced to flee, along with the performers backstage and in the numerous dressing rooms. Many escaped the theatre through the coal hatch and through windows in the dressing rooms, while others attempted to escape via the west stage door, which opened inwards and became jammed as actors pressed toward the door frantically trying to get out. By chance a passing railroad agent saw the crowd pressing against the door and undid the hinges from the outside using tools he normally carried with him, allowing the actors and stagehands to escape. Someone else opened the huge double freight doors in the north wall, normally used for scenery, allowing "a cyclonic blast" of cold air to rush into the building and create an enormous fireball. As the vents above the stage were nailed or wired shut, the fireball instead traveled outwards, ducking under the stuck asbestos curtain and streaking toward the vents behind the dress circle and gallery 50 feet (15 m) away. The hot gases and flames passed over the heads of those in the orchestra seats and incinerated everything flammable in the gallery and dress circle levels, including patrons still trapped in those areas.

Those in the orchestra section were able to exit into the foyer and out the front door, but those in the dress circle and gallery who escaped the fireball were unable to reach the foyer because the iron grates that barred the stairways were still in place. The largest death toll was at the base of these stairways, where hundreds of people were trampled, crushed, or asphyxiated.

Patrons who were able to escape via the emergency exits on the north side found themselves on the unfinished fire escapes. Many jumped or fell from the icy, narrow fire escapes to their deaths; the bodies of the first jumpers broke the falls of those who followed them.

Students from the Northwestern University building located north of the theatre tried bridging the gap with a ladder and then with some boards between the rooftops, saving those few able to manage the makeshift cross over.

Walking in Chicago, Chicago American reporter Walter Howey was startled to see a knight and three elves climb out of a manhole. He had stumbled upon four actors fleeing the fire. As more people escaped via the theater cellar through the sewers, Howey reported his scoop, and the story, one of the biggest in Chicago's history, established his reputation for speed, resourcefulness, and skillful writing. Howey became city editor of the Chicago Tribune in 1907. Lured away by Hearst, he became managing editor of the Chicago American in 1917. Howey was the prototype for Walter Burns, the ruthless, scheming managing editor in Hecht and MacArthur's play The Front Page.