chicagology

  • Contents
  • About
  • Guest Book
  • Bibliography
  • Contact
  • Legal
  • Site Map

Archives for December 2015

Eddie Foy’s Account of the Iroquois Fire

December 30, 2015 by Administrator Leave a Comment


Eddie Foy’s account of the Iroquois Fire coincides with the newspapers reports, but provides interesting insights from a performer’s point of view.


These are the words of Eddie Foy, an actor who was preparing to go on stage on December 30, 1903, aI Chicago’s Iroquois Theater:

The theater was one of the finest that had yet been built in this country-a palace of marble and plate glass, plush and mahogany and gilding. It had a magnificent promenade foyer, like an old-world palace hall. with a ceiling 60 feet from the floor and grand staircases ascending on either side. Backstage, it was far and away the most commodious I had ever seen.

We were told that the theater was the very last word in efficiency, convenience, and, most important of all, in safety. It is true that the building itself was probably as nearly fireproof as a building can be made; but because of certain omissions—some careless and made in the interest of economy—it was a fool’s paradise. There had been no great theater disaster in this country for many years, and all precautions against such a thing were greatly relaxed.


map

Eddie Foy, Sr.
Eddie Foy, Sr, as Sister Anne from “Mr. Bluebeard”


Gorgeous But Dangerous.
We drew big crowds all through Christmas week. On Wednesday afternoon, December 30, at the bargain-price matinee, the house was packed, and many were standing. I tried to get passes for my wife and youngsters, but failed.

It was then that I decided that I should take only the eldest boy, Bryan, aged 6, to the show and stow him wherever I could.

I made one final effort to get a seat for him down in front, but found that there were none left, so I put him on a little stool in the first entrance at the right of the stage-a sort of alcove near the Switchboard—and he liked that even better than being down in the seats.

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. There were several parties of girls in their teens-

Teachers and college and high school students on their vacations were there in great numbers.

The house seated a few more than 1,600. The managers declared afterward that they sold only a few more than a hundred standing room tickets, which would bring the total attendance to something over 1,700. The testimony of others indicated that there were many more standees than admitted by the management, and it was widely believed that there were at least 2,100 in lhe house-some reports claimed 2,300.

And remember tJtat back of the curtain, counting the members of the company, stagehands, and so on, there were fully 400 more.

Much of the scenery used was of a very flimsy character. Hanging suspended by a forest of ropes above the stage and so close together that they were well-nigh touching each other were no less than 280 drops, several of which were necessary to each set, all painted with oil colors, the great majority of them cut illlo delicate lacery, and some of them of sheer gauze.

There had been a fire among the fluffy properties used in tJle big fan scene during our engagement in Cleveland, but, by a piece of luck, it was quickly subdued, and I had been playing in theaters for so long without any trouble with fire that the incident didn’t give me much of a scare,

It takes a disaster to make one cautious.

After our experience at lhe Iroquois, not 1 in 10 of us actors (and I dare say other people would have been equally heedless) could remember whether we had ever seen any fire extinguishers, fire hose, axes, or other apparatus back of the stage, Some testimony was given which seemed to indicate that precautions of this sort had been woefully inadequate.

The play went merrily through the first act. At the beginning of the second act, a double octette—eight men and eight women—had a very pretty number called “In the Pale Moonlight.” The stage was flooded with bluish light while they sang and danced, It was then that the trouble
began.

in spite of some slight conflict of opinion, there can be no doubt that one of the big lights high up at one side of the stage blew out its fuse. That was what had caused the Cleveland blaze, and it was well known to the electricians of the company that, in order to obtain the desired lighting effects, they were carrying too heavy a load of power on the wires. Anyhow, a bit of the gauzy drapery caught fire at the right of the stage, some 12 or 15 feet above the floor,

I was to come on in a few minutes for my turn with the comic elephant, and I was in my dressing room making up, as I wore a slightly different outfit in this scene. I heard a commotion outside, and my first idle thought was, “I wonder if they’re fighting down there again”- for there had been a row a few days before among the supers and stagehands. But the noise swelled in volume, and suddenly I became frightened. I jerked my door open, and instantly I knew there was something deadly wrong. It could be nothing else but fire!

My first thought was for Bryan, and I ran downstairs and around into the wings. Probably not 40 seconds had elal>sed since I heard the first commotion-but already the terror was beginning.

When the blaze was first discovered, two stagehands tried to extinguish it. One of them, it is said, strove to beat it out with a stick or a piece of canvas or something else, but it was too far above his head. Then he or the other man got one of those fire extinguishers consisting of a small tin tube of powder and uied to throw the stuff on the flame, but it was ridiculously inadequate. Meanwhile, in the audience, those far around on the opposite side, and especially those near the stage, could see the blaze and the men fighting it, and they began to get frightened.

The flame spread through those tinderlike fabrics with terrible rapidity. If the drop first ignited could have been instanUy separated from the others, the calamity might have been averted, but that was impossible. Within a minute, the flame was beyond possibillty of control by anything but a fire hose. Probably not even a big nre extinguisher could have stopped it by that time.

Why no attempt was made to use any such apparatus, or whether, indeed, it was in working order, I don’t know. If the house force had ever had any fire drills, there was no evidence of it in their actions. The stage manager was absent at the moment, and several of the stagehands were in a saloon across the street. No one had even taken the trouble to see that a fire alarm box was located in or near the theater, and a s stagehand ran all the way to South Water Street to turn in the alarm.

As I ran around back of the rear drop, I could hear the murmur of excitement growing in the audience. Somebody had of course yelled “fire”—there is almost always a fool of that species in an audience and sometimes several of them—and there are always hundreds of poorly balanced people who go crazy the moment they hear the word. I ran around into the wings, shouting for Bryan . The lower borders on that side were all aflame, and the blaze was leaping up into the flies. On the stage, those brave boys and girls, bless them, were still singing and doing their steps, though the girls’ voices were beginning to falter a little.


map


Foy’s Greatest Role
I found my boy in his place, though gelling much frightened. I seized him and started toward the rear.But all those women and children out in front haunted me—the hundreds of little ones who would be helpless, trodden underfoot in a panic. I must—I must do what I could to save them!

I tossed Bryan into the arms of a stagehand, crying, “Take my boy out!” I paused a moment to walch him mnning toward the rear doors, then I turned and ran out on the stage, right through the ranks of the octette, still trembling doing their part, though the scenery was blazing over them. But as I reached the footlights, one of the girls fainted and one of the men picked her up and carried her off.

I was a grotesque figure to come before an audience at so serious an occasion; tights and comic shoes, a short. smock-a sort. of abbreviated Mother Hubbard-and a wig with a ridiculous little pigtail curving upward from the back of my head.
map
The crowd was beginning to surge toward the doors and already showing signs of a stampede—those on the lower floor were not so badly frightened as those in the more dangerous balcony and gallery. Up there, they were falling into panic.

Oh, if only I possessed an overmastering personality and eloquence that could quiet them! If only I could do 50 things at once—why didn’t the asbestos curtain come down? I began shouting at the top of my voice, “Don’t get excited. There’s no danger. Take it easy and to Dillea, the orchestra leader, “Play! Start an overture- anything! But play!…Some of his musicians were fleeing, but a few, and especially a fat German violinist1, stuck nobly…”Take your” time, folks. (Wonder if that man got out with Bryan?) No danger!”—and sidewise into the wings, “The asbestos curtain! For God’s sake, don’t anybody know how to lower this curtain? Go slow, people! You’ll get out!”

I stood perfectly still, and when addressing the audience, spoke slowly, knowing that these signs of self-possession have a calming effect on a crowd. Those on the lower floor heard me and seemed to be reassured a little, but up above, and especially in the gallery, I could see them surging, fighting, milling about in the flickering light, a horde of maniacs.

Down came the curtain s lowly, two-thirds of the way-and stopped, one end higher than the other, caught on the wire on which the girl made her flight over the audience, and which had just been raised into position for her coming feat! instead of being fastened in a rigid frame sliding in grooves at the side, the curtain hung loose, and the strong draft, coming through the back doors by which the troupe were fleeing, bellied the slack of the curtain in a wide arc out into the auditorium, letting the draft. and flame through its sides. “Lower it! Cut the wire!” I yelled. “Don’t be frightened, folks; go slow! (Oh, God, maybe that man didn’t take Bryan out!) No danger! Play, Dillea!”

Below me, Dillea was still swinging his baton, and that brave, fat little German was still fiddling alone and furiously, but no one could hear him now, for the roar of the flames was added to the roar of the mob …

Then came a cyclonic blast of fire from the stage out into the auditorium—possibly a great mass of scenery suddenly ignited and was fanned by a stronger gust, though some insist that the gas tanks exploded—a flash and a roar as when a heap of loose powder is fired all at once. A huge billow of flame leaped out past me and over me and seemed to reach even to the balconies. Many of the spectators described it as an “explosion” or a “great ball of fire.” A shower of blazing fragments fell over me and set my wig smoldering. A fringe on the edge of the curtain just above my head was burning, and as I glanced up, the curtain itself was disintegrating. It was thin and not wire-reinforced: another cheat!

Now the last of the musicians fled. I could do nothing more-might as well go too. But by this time, the inferno behind me was so terrible that I wondered whether I could escape that way; perhaps it were better through the auditorium. I hesitated momentarily, but Bryan had gone out by the rear—if he had gone out at all—and I was irresistibly drawn to follow, that I might. leam his fate more quickly.

He Stuck to the Last.
I think I was the last man on the stage; I fairly had to grope my way through flame and smoke to reach the Dearborn Street stage door, which was still jammed with our people getting out. Some of those dressing under the stage had to break down doors or escape through coal chutes. The actors and stage employees nearly all escaped-saved by the failure of the asbestos curtain to come down, which let the bulk of the flame roll out into the auditorium and brought death to many in the audience.
map
The flying ballet went out as I did, rescued through the heroism of the elevator boy, who ran his car up through tips of flame to the scorching flies where they stood awaiting their turn, and brought them down. But one of them, Nellie Reed (right), the premiere, was so badly burned that she died in a hospital a day or two later.

As I left the stage, the last of the ropes holding up the drops burned through, and with them the whole loft collapsed with a terrifying crash, bringing down tons of burning material—and at that, all the lights in the house went out and another great balloon of flame leaped out into the auditorium, licking even the ceiling and killing scores who had not yet succeeded in escaping from the gallery.

The horror in the auditorium was beyond all description. There were 30 exits, but few of them were marked by lights; some even had heavy portieres over the doors, and some of the doors were locked or fastened with, levers which no one knew how to work.

When one balcony exit was opened, those who surged out on the platfoml found that they could not descend the steps because flames were leaping from the exit below them. Some painters in a building across a narrow coul1 threw a ladder over to the plalfonn. A man started crawling over it. One end of it slipped off the landing, and he fell,crushed, on the stones below. The painters then succeeded in bridging the gap with a plank, and
just 12 people crossed that narrow foolpath to safety.


Eight Minutes of Horror
The twelfth was pursued by a tongue of flame which dashed against the wall of the opposite building—and no more escaped. The iron platform was crowded with women and children. Some died right there; others crawled over the railing and fell to the pavement. the iron railings were actually torn off some of the platforms.

But it was inside lhe house that the greatest loss of life occurred, especially on the stairways leading down from the second balcony. The struggle there must have been one of the most hideous things in the history of the human race.

The stairways were one long mass of bodies, and wherever turns or landings caused a worse jam, they were piled 7 or 8 feet deep. Firemen and police confronted a sickening task in disentangling them. An occasional body still breathing faintly was drawn from the heaps, but most of these were terribly injured. The heel prints on the dead faces mutely testified to the cruel fact that human animals stricken by terror are as mad and ruthless as stampeding cattle. Many bodies had the clothes torn from them, and some had the
flesh trodden from their bones.

Never elsewhere did a greaL fire disaster occur so quickly. It is said that from the start. of the fire until all the audience had either escaped or been killed or were lying maimed in the halls and alleys, the time was just 8 minutes. In that 8 minutes, more than 500 lives went out.

The fire departmem arrived quickly after the alarm and extinguished the fire in the auditorium so promptly that no more than the plush upholstery was burned off the seats, the wooden parts remaining intact. But when a fire chief thrust his head through a side exit and shouted, “Is anybody alive in here?” not a sound was heard in reply. The few not dead were insensible or dying.

Within 10 minutes from the beginning of the fire, bodies were being laid in rows on the sidewalks, and all the ambulances and dead wagons in the city could not keep up with the ghastly harvest. Within 24 hours, Chicago knew that at least 587 were dead, and fully as many more injured. Subsequent deaths among the injured brought the list up to 602.

As I rushed out of the theater, I could think of nothing but my boy. [ became more and more frightened; as I neared the street, [ was certain he hadn’t got out. But when I reached the sidewalk and looked around wildly, there he was with his faithful friend, just. outside the door. 1 seized him in my anns and turned toward the hotel. At that moment, 1 longed only to see my frullily all together snd to thank God that we were all still alive.

It was a thinly clad mob which poured out of the stage doors into the snow. The temperature
was around zero, and an icy gale was howling through the streets . Many of the actors and actresses had had no opportunity to get street clothes or wraps, and some of the chorus girls who were dressing at the time of the fire were almost nude. Kindly people furnished wraps for these whenever they could and took them into business houses nearby for refuge.

My own outfit of tights and thin smock felt like nothing at all, and my teeth were chattering so from the cold and the horror of what I had been through that I could not speak.

A well-dressed man, a stranger to me, stopped me ruld said, “My friend, you’d better borrow my coat,” throwing off his heavy overcoat as he said so and helping me to put it on. He then picked up Bryan and walked with me aeross the street; and there, at the corner of a dmgstore, hurrying toward the theater, I saw my wife with the two youngest children.

She gave a scream at sight of me, crying, ‘Oh, thank God! Thank God!” she threw herself into my arms—then seized Bryan and kissed him, then me again, transferring quantities of grease paint from my face to her own and then to her son’s. She had had a vague premonition of disaster from the time that Bryan and I left the hotel that afternoon …

We tumed back toward the hotel, thankful yet oppressed by the horror of the calamity which we knew must have occurred. I returned the overcoat to my good Samaritan friend. but was so agitated that I forgot to ask his name or even thank him adequately, 1 fear.

I had no sleep at. all that nighL Newspaper reporters were begging me for interviews, friends were calling me by telephone and wiring me … I was too excited to sleep, anyhow, even if I had had opportunity. My nerves did not subside to normal pitch for weeks afterward.


map

Sheet Music from “Mr. Bluebeard”


1 – That “fat German violinist” was actually Antonio Frosolono (1875-1974) of Italy and was the house musical director at the Iroquois theater. On Dec 30, 1903 he was playing the violin in the orchestra.


Filed Under: What's New

Iroquois Fire

December 30, 2015 by Administrator Leave a Comment


The Iroquois Fire page has been completely overhauled. Included is the day after account from The Chicago Tribune, featuring a chart summarizing the safety conditions of all the other theaters in Chicago.

The dedication of the Iroquois Hospital (1908-1951) is described and the story of the invention of the Panic Bar by a hardware salesman who missed the performance.


The day was Monday, November 27, 1903, when the brand new Iroquois Theater, an “absolutely fireproof” theatre, opened in Chicago at 24-28 Randolph (between State and Dearborn streets). On Wednesday, December 30th, the hit musical, “Mr. Bluebeard” starring Eddie Foy was enjoying its sixth week of a successful run as the Iroquois Theatre’s first production. Pictured on the bottom is the cover of the Programme.


map

571 DEAD BODIES FOUND IN RUINS.


Iroquois Theater Fire Reaps and Awful Harvest in Fifteen Minutes.


BURNED AND SUFFOCATED


Women and Children at Holiday Matinee Audience Sacrificed to Flame and Panic.

Five hundred and seventy-one lives were destroyed by fire in the Iroquois Theater in the fifteen minutes between 3:15 and 3:30 o’clock yesterday afternoon. Of the dead, less than 100 were identified last night.

Of the unidentified nearly all were so badly burned that recognition was impossible. Only by trinkets and burned scraps of wearing apparel will the bodies of hundreds be made known to their families.


March from Deadhouse to Deadhouse.
All night long a horror chained but resolutely persistent throng of those whose friends and relatives were numbered among the missing lifted blanket after blanket in the search of fear through the morgues of the city.

Not since the Fire of 1871, when 250 were killed, has Chicago been mantled by such a universal tragedy; never has it received a blow so instantaneously shocking.

This frightful thing was over before the city knew it happened; the news in its wild spread left paralysis behind.

“Mr. Bluebeard” was being performed in the theater. An audience not only of unusual size but of unusual composition was listening to it. It was the matinée audience of the mid-holiday season.


Children and Women the Victims.
Only once in a year could such an audience have gathered; only once in all the twelve-month could so many children have been collected within the walls of the theater.

And on this one occasion the sacrifice to flames was demanded. There were men in the audience; there were men in the galleries, from which the greatest tribute of death was demanded, but they were few in proportion to the children. There were women, too. Some of them died with their arms around their children. Probably the proportion of men in the theater might have been one to ten women and children; of women one to four children or young people.


agatite


After fifty-five hours had passed since the Iroquois fire, only twenty-one bodies remained unidentified out of the total number of 582 victims. The showing at midnight:

BODIES AT MORGUES

UNDERTAKER
ADDRESS
IDENTIFIED
UNIDENTIFIED
NO. DEAD
Rolston’s
22 Adams st
182
5
187
Jordan’s
10 Madison st
134
5
139
Sheldon’s
239 W. Madison
44
3
47
Ruffum’s
1722 Wabash
32
2
34
Gavin’s
222 N. Clark st
33
0
33
Horan’s
169 E. 18th
24
0
24
Carroll’s
208 Wells
19
2
21
St. Luke’s Hospital
15th and Indiana Ave
22
0
22
Perrigo’s
2973 State
18
0
18
County Morgue
Wood and Harrison
16
3
19
Ryan’s
2249 Cottage Grove
10
0
10
Boydston’s
4229 Cottage Grove
5
0
5
Cleveland’s
1507 W. Madison
6
0
6
Furth’s
192 35th st
5
0
5
Postlewaite’s
322 Ogden av
8
0
8
Samaritan Hospital
3
0
3
Robert’s
141 E. Chicago
0
1
1
Total
561
21
582

Death’s Harvest in the Galleries.
There were 2,000 persons or thereabouts in the theater. Of that number 1,740 had seats. The rest were massed in the rear of the seats on the main floor and the first balcony.

In the galleries, even the rear seats of the second gallery, were seated persons who ordinarily would have not been content with anything less than parquet seats. They were mothers, aunts, and older sisters, taking the children for an outing which fitted only to this one afternoon; young fellows from college treating their visiting chums to the theater; school girls out with their young friends for the same kind of a lark. A number of parties consisted of trios of girls under 15 years of age.

Such was the human material provided on one side of the curtain.

On the other were 300 members of the extravaganza company. They were dressed in flimsy garments, trailing with gauze, veils of death once the breath of fire swept over them.


Fire Curtain a Delusion.
Between audience and performers was the curtain line, down with an asbestos fire curtain could have fallen a second after the alarm was given, confining the fire to the stage.

The curtain never fell.

The fire leaped from the stage as if from a furnace door. The draft from the opened stage exits behind drove it across the auditorium and upward to the galleries. Over a carpet of the dead it forced its own way through the chimney of the alley doors on the galleries.

The newest theater in Chicago, the playhouse declared to be fireproof from dressing rooms to capstone, burned till the stage was a steel skeleton and its wrecked interior a charnel house.

The coroner today will begin laboriously to try and learn who, if any one, was to blame; the building commissioner will endeavor to learn if the building was overcrowded, and if all the ordinances were obeyed.

And the people for their part will have funerals to attend. And there will be hearses at these funerals. The liverymen strikers will not molest them.


Why Curtain Failed to Work.
The only thing plain last night was that the asbestos curtain did not fall. The flyman of the theater, Charles Johnson, said that for some time past it had been the practice of the theater to have the curtain high at night so as to permit a good view for the aerial ballet.

“They attempted to drop the curtain,” he said, “but it would not drop below the height it had been fixed at,”

Manager Will J. Davis was not at the theater. The report made to him was that the curtain caught when a little way down and bulged out under the force of the terrific draft.

“Men tried to pul it down,” he said. “It would not come.”


Absent from All Important Post.
Another report in wide circulation was that the assistant stage manager, who had immediate charge of the curtain, was not on the stage, but in front. He, it was declared, could have touched an electric button which would have operated the sheet in a second. Without him, according to this story, the attempt was made clumsily to run the curtain down by hand, an attempt that failed.

The fire started while the double octet was staging “In the Pale Moonlight,” Eddie Foy, off the stage, was making up for his “elephant” specialty.

On the audience’s left—the stage right—a line flashed straight up. It was followed by a noise as of an explosion. According to nearly all accounts, however, there was no real explosion, the sound being that of the fuse of the “spot” light which is turned on a pivot to follow and illuminate the progress of the star across the stage.


“Spot” Electric Light the Cause.
This light caused the fire. On this all reports of the stage folk agree. As to manner, accounts differ widely. R. M. Cummings, the boy in charge of the light, said last night that it was short circuited.

Stage hands, as they fled from the scene, however, were heard to question one another. “Who kicked over the light?” The light belonged to the “Bluebeard” company.


Just a Little Flame at First.
The beginning of the disaster was leisurely. The stage hands had been fighting the line of wavering flame along the muslim fly border for some seconds before the audience knew anything was the matter.

The fly border, made of muslin and saturated with paint, was tinder to the flames.


Attack Blaze with Sticks.
The stage hands grasped the long sticks used in their work. They forgot the hand grenades that are supposed to be on every stage.

“Hit it with the sticks!” was the cry. “Beat it out!” “Beat it out!”

The men struck savagely. A few yards of the border fed upon the stage and was stamped to charred fragments.

That sight was the first warning the audience had. For a second there was a hush. The singers halted in their lines; the musicians ceased to play.

Then the murmur of fear ran through the audience. There were cries from a few, followed by the breaking, rumbling sound of the first step toward the flight of panic.


map

One Man Keeps His Head.
At that moment a strange, grotesque figure appeared upon the stage. It wore tights, a loose upper garment, and the face was one-half made up. The man was Eddie Foy, chief comedian of the company, the clown, but the only man who kept his head.

Before he reached the center of the stage he had called out to a stage hand; “Take my boy, Bryan, there! Get him out! There by the stage way!”

The stage hand grabbed the little chap. Foy saw him dart with him to safety as he turned his head.

Freed of parental anxiety, he faced the audience.

“Keep quiet!” he shouted. “Quiet.”

“Go out in order!” he shouted. “Don’t get excited!”

Between exclamations he bent over toward the orchestra leader.


Orchestra Plays in Face of Death.
“Start an overture!” he commanded. “Start anything. For God’s sake, play, play, play, and keep playing.”

The brave words were as bravely answered. Gillea raised his wand, and the musicians began to play. Netter than any one in the theater they knew their perm. They could look slantingly up and see that the 300 sets of the “Bluebeard” scenery all were ablaze. Their faces were white, their hands trembled, but they played, and played.

Foy still stood there, alternately urging the frightened people to avoid a panic and spurring the orchestra on. One by one the musicians dropped fiddle, horn, and other instruments and stole away.


map
“Clown” Proves a Hero.
Finally the leader and Foy were left alone. Foy gave one glance upward and saw the scenery all aflame. dropping brands fell around him, and then he fled—just in time to save his own life. The “clown” had proved himself a hero.

The curtain started to come down. It stopped, it swayed as from a heavy wind, and then it “buckled” near the center.


All Hope Lost for Gallery.
From that moment no power short of omnipotent could have saved the occupants of the upper gallery.

The coolness of Foy, of the orchestra leaders and of other players, who begged the audience to hold itself in check, however, probably saved many lives on the parquet floor. Tumultuous panic prevailed, but the maddest of it—save in the doomed gallery—was at the outskirts of the ground floor crowd.

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

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


Some Exits Are Closed.
The theater had thirty exits. All were opened before the fire reached full headway, but some had to be forced open. 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 the theater employees, according to one report, by the van of fleeting 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.


Theatrical People All Escape.
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 pains. This at least was true of those who died in the second balcony, striving to reach the alley exits abreast of them.


IN THE ALLEY OF DEATH AND MUTILATION

JUMPING FROM THE FIRE ESCAPES TO ESCAPE THE FLAMES.

map


Dead Piled Six Feet Deep.
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 itself around the iron ladder.


map


Bridge the Alley with Planks.
“A ladder!” shouted one of the painters, “Run it out.” It was run out. The man started to cross. The ladder slipped on the frosty window casing. Its burden was precipitated down on the icy ground.

The first of the arriving firemen picked up the broken form. The body was the first taken to a morgue.

Women prepared to jump from the platform.

“Wait!” cried the painters. “We have planks.” Three wide planks were thrust across the alley. The painters sank to their knees to anchor them. “Come on!” they shouted.


Little Girl First Across.
Hortense Lang, 10 years old, dragging her sister Irene, 11 years old, was the first to cross.

She was hysterical when she dropped inside the sheltering room.

“I was going to jump,” she sobbed, “but I thought of my mother. I just grabbed sister by hand and waited for the planks. I don’t know how we crossed.”

The mother, Mrs. L. Lang, 580 Forty-fifth street, also was in the theater, on the first floor. She got out safely, and an hour afterwards found her children in the Tremont house. The reunited three sat with arms around another for another hour.


Die with Safety in Sight.
Just twelve persons escaped across the plankway. The twelfth was pursued by a pillar of fire which dashed itself against the wall of the university building.

The steel platform was packed with women and children. They died right there. The bodies of some fell over into the alley. From within the bodies others fell part way out of the aperture.

The helpless watchers, peering through the smoke, could see the heaps of the dead between the seats and along the outside of the gallery.

Firemen crossed the gangway as soon as the tongue of flame drew back and climbed over the ghastly wall to direct the stream of water inward and downward.


map

Floor Plan of The Iroquois


“Anybody Alive Here?” No Answer.
They entered too soon. The tongue again licked upwards. The fighters and rescuers retreated stubbornly, but they were driven back.

Marshall Campton was in command of the firemen. He saw that the gallery must be for a time abandoned. The forms of women and children were all about him and his men. No movement was perceptible, but he knew that the living might be buried under the dead.

“Is there any living person here?” the marshal shouted again and again.

The cry echoed through the silent place and no voice answered.

Once more he shouted, “If any one here is alive, groan or make some sound. We’ll take you out.”


Not a Moan Is Heard.
Not an arm waved in the mounds about him; no moan was heard.

“We will have to get back,” ordered the marshal, reluctantly. As they defiled over the planks the fire once more billowed to the windows. But this time no new victims. It needed not to make its work more thorough.


Fire Checked, Rescue Starts.
When the firemen reentered the theater from the alley side they were not again repulsed. They played upon the fire, now largely confined to the stage, long enough to permanently check it, and then all but the men needed to hold the lines of hose turned their attention to the labor of clearing the balcony of the bodies.

While they worked from the north scores of citizen rescuers were bearing corpses out through the Randolph street entrance. From this entrance also were borne the bulk of the injured.

There was no need for physicians to inspect the bodies taken out over the gangway.Scores of injured were cared for in the Northwestern University building, but they were persons brought in from the ground floor.


Bodies Not Recognizable.
The bodies dragged across the planks for the most part unrecognizable. Ropes were passed around the feet and one set of men pulled while one man steadied the head of the corpse. Once across, however, the bodies were cared for with tender pity. Blankets were thrown over them and they were laid in rows on the floor and on long tables. Not until 7 o’clock was the last body taken from the theater by this route. Toward the end the bodies were sent to the morgues as soon as they were received in the university building.


Meets Death in Many Ways.
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 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.


Children Saved from Mutilation.
Most of the children will 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.


agatite


In Death They Save Others.
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.


No Alarm Box at Theater.
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.


Few in Balcony Escaped.
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.

The crowds fought so in their efforts to escape that they tore away the iron railings of the balconies, leaping upon the people below.


Hours in Carrying Out Dead.
From 3 o’clock, when the alarm was sent in, to 7:30 o’clock, when the doors of the theater were closed. the charred, torn, and blistered bodies were carried from the building at a rate of four a minute. One hundred were taken out across the plank way.

Many blankets filled with fragments of human bodies taken from the building.


Hundreds Beyond Recognition.
Hundreds of bodies were taken from the building, their clothing gone, their faces charred beyond recognition. Under pretense of serving as rescuers ghouls gained entrance to the theater and robbed dead and dying in the midst of the fire.

Men fell on their knees and prayed. Men and women cursed. A rush was made for the Rndolph street exits. In their fear the crowds forgot the many side exits, and rushed for the doors at which they entered the theater. Little boys and girls were thrown to one side by their stronger companions.

Ten baskets of money and jewelry thrown in this manner were picked up from the main floor when the fire was extinguished.

Men and women tore their clothing from them. As the first rush was made for the foyer entrance to the balconies men, women, and children were thrown bodily down the steps.

A few score of those nearest the doorways escaped by falling or being thrown down the stairs of the main balcony entrance.

Scores were wedged in the doorways, pinned by the force of those behind them. There in the narrow aisles at the balcony entrances they were suffocated and fell—tons of human weight.


map

A French tabloid’s version of the chaos inside the theater.


Rush Down Slanting Aisles.
All succeeded in leaving their seats in the first balcony. Climbing over the seats and rushing up the slanting aisles to the level aisles above, they fought their way. Those at the bottom of the mass were burned but a little. The top layer of bodies were burned till they never can be identified.


Firemen Work in Dark.
Darkness shrouded the theater with its hundreds of dead when the fire was under control that the building could be entered. The firemen were forced to work in smoky darkness when they started carrying the bodies from the balconies.

Falling over each other the rescuers groped in the dark for an arm or leg in the pile of victims trapped in the balcony. For an hour the rescue work was carried on without other light than that of candles.


Baby Stripped of Clothes.
All its clothing torn form it but a pair of baby shoes, the body of an infant was found in a far corner of the balcony.

In her haste to save herself the mother apparently had cast the child aside to be trampled upon and killed by the crowds.

So great was the confusion in the carrying out of the victims that the majority of those in the balconies whose bodies still contained life were the last to be taken from the building.

They were found underneath the dead, their lives saved by the stronger ones who had trampled them down. When itv was discovered that many were living the work of rescuing was begun. Charred and partly incinerated bodies were thrown or laid to one side. The forms of those apparently having life were carried out to be examined by the physicians.

Hatless, coatless, bruised, and bleeding from their fight for freedom, the crowds emerged. Men with presence of mind were carrying women and children. The strangest thing about their exit was the fact that it was silent. Few were screaming. The greatest nise was made by the gathering crowds.


Seeks Party of Twelve Children.
Managers Davis and Powers took up headquarters in the women;s dressing room south of the lobyb as soon as the fire was under control. Hardly had Mr. Davis entered the building when he was approached by George C. Sanburn, 834 Walnut street.

“I had twelve children in two boxes,” he said. “They’re missing. Are they in there?”

“My God, this is what cuts,” said Davis, and he turned away. Mr. Sanburn was assured that his son, Harold, 19 years old, had taken his sister, Eugene, 16 years old, and her ten guests from their boxes in safety.

“What do you want?” a policeman asked of C. E. Elliott, 1832 Michigan Avenue, when that man tried to force his way into the presence of the managers.

“My wife,” he sobbed, and turned away.


Plead for Word of Loved Ones.
Dozens went to the managers. Dozens pleaded with them for knowledge of their loved ones and were turned away by the heartsick men.

A woman, her hair flying, struck the policemen who would prevent her from seeing the managers, and slipped past them. Falling at the feet of a man in the room she threw her arms around his knees.

“O, my Harold,” she sobbed. “Please—please tell me, is he in there? God, man; that’s my only boy.”

The woman pulled at the coats of the men around her appealingly. Suddenly she arose and ran through those who would stop her into the blazing theater. She was brought back alone.


map

Stage after the fire.


Musham Finds Wall of Bodies.
Fire Chief Musham, summoned from the investigation about to be called at the city hall, was the first man to reach the second balcony. With a lantern in his hand and a half dozen men behind him he worked his way through the smoke to the top of the theater.

“My God, men, go back,” he shouted, when confronted with a wall of human bodies so high he could not see over them into the door. Then he sent out a call to the public to help carry out the victims.


Ghouls Rob the Dead.
There was a rush for the main entrance. Fathers and brothers were in the crowd. Ghouls were there also. Before the first fifty bodies had been carried from the burning theater a score or more of thieves had commenced searching the piles of dead for loot. They filled their pockets. Rings, bracelets, and watches were taken from the dead. Earrings were even torn from many of the women.


Interior of House a Wreck.
Today the main floor of the theater would make a fair skating rink, were the seats removed. It is covered with ice. Icicles hang from the lights, fixtures, and balconies. The rear wall was bulged several feet and has been propped to prevent its falling.

In taking out the building permit the owners set an estimate of $350,000 as the probable value of the building. The full value when completed is given by men connected with the management at $450,000.

Neither balcony fell. The seats are ruined, the stage a wreck, and the full loss, it is thought, may be $150,000-$200,000.


TAKING AWAY THE DEAD ON COAL, HAY AND FREIGHT WAGONS.

map


Morgues Filled and Overflowed.
The downtown morgues, Rolston’s and Jordan’s, were filled long before the tomb had given up its victims. After that bodies were sent to all undertaking rooms within reach, as far south as Eighteenth and Twenty-second streets, as far north as Division street and North Avenue.

The injured were sent largely to the Samaritan and to St. Luke’s hospitals.

Every kind of vehicle was used to transport the bodies of the dead. The injured generally were carried in ambulances or in patrol wagons.

Thompson’s restaurant, on Randolph street, next door to the theater, became an improvised hospital and morgue. Dead and dying were taken there promiscuously.


Doctors Organize Forces.
The doctors, summoned from every downtown office, elected Dr. G. Frank Lydstone, their chief, and under him they worked with both speed and system. Three doctors were assigned to a table, turned for the time being from the restaurant to operating use. As fast as a victim was pronounced dead the body was placed beneath the table and a new patient laid on the boards above.

In spite of the mighty efforts of the physicians, however, many of the injured were dead before they could be given help, and some were alive who were passed by as being dead. The movement of an arm or the twitch of a facial muscle wasa signal several times answered in haste by watching who thought they stood above a corpse.


Dreary Round of Searchers.
In the evening all suspense centered about the morgue. To these places of identification the bodies were carried in wagon loads each wrapped in its banket.

From morgue to morgue went the searchers.


Chicago Tribune, December 31, 1903

HOSPITAL IN MARSHALL FIELD’S.

Scores of Fire Victims Taken to the Big Department Store for Treatment.

An improvised hospital in Marshall Field & Co.’s store was crowded to its capacity during the fire. The west room and employees’ sitting room on the eighth floor were filled within thirty minutes after the work of the rescue began. The maids in charge of the toilet rooms acted as nurses.


map

Chicago Tribune
McCutcheon
January 1-3, 1904


Compiled from the Report Submitted to Mayor Harrison by the Commissioner of Buildings and by Him
Submitted to the Council on Nov. 2. 1903.
ACTUAL CONDITIONS IN THE THEATERS OF CHICAGO
Theater
Doors Open to Street
Fireproof Paint
Automatic Sprinklers
Tanks on Roof
Exits Indicated on Program
Curtain
Exits Marked
Fire Extin-guishers
Fire Alarm
Fireman on Stage
ACADEMY OF MUSIC
Yes
No
No
No
No
Burlap
Yes
Yes
Yes
No
ALHAMBRA
Yes
No
No
No
No
Linen
Yes
Yes
Yes
No
AUDITORIUM
Yes
No
No
No
No
Fireproof
Not All
Yes
No
No
AVENUE
Yes
No
No
No
No
Linen
Yes
No
No
No
BUSH TEMPLE
Yes
No
No
No
No
Asbestos
No
No
No
No
BIJOU
Yes
No
No
No
No
Linen
No
Yes
Yes
Yes
CHICAGO OPERA HOUSE
Yes
No
No
No
No
Burlap, Fireproof
Yes
Yes
Yes
Yes
CLARK ST MUSEUM
Yes
No
No
Yes
No
Linen
No
No
No
No
CLEVELAND
Not in yet
Not Ready
Not Ready
Not Ready
Not Yet
Not Ready
Not Yet
Not In
Not Ready
Not Ready
COMUMBUS
Yes
No
No
No
No
Asbestos
No
Yes
Yes
No
31st St
Yes
No
No
No
No
Burlap
Yes
Yes
No
No
CRITERION
Yes
No
No
No
No
Linen
Yes
Yes
No
No
FEIZENBAUM’S
Yes
No
No
No
No
Linen
No
No
No
No
GRAND OPERA HOUSE
Yes
No
No
No
No
No Report
No Report
No Report
No Report
No Report
GARRICK Randolph
Yes
No
No
No
No
Asbestos
No
Yes
No
Yes
GARRICK Milwaukee
Yes
Whitewash
No
No
No
Asbestos
No
Yes
No
Yes
GLICKMAN’S
Yes
No
No
No
No
Canvas
Yes
No
Yes
No
GREAT NORTHERN
Yes
Yes
No
Yes
No
Asbestos
None
Yes
No Report
Yes
HAYMARKET
Yes
No
No
No
No
Asbestos
Yes
Yes
No
Yes
HOPKINS’
Yes
No
No
No
No
Asbestos
Yes
Yes
Yes
No
HOWARD
Yes
No
No
No
No
Linen
Not All
No
ILLINOIS
Yes
No
No
No
No
Burlap, Fireproof Paint
No
No
No
No
LA SALLE
Yes
No
No
No
No
Asbestos
No
Yes
No
No
LONDON MUSEE
Yes
No
No
No
No
Linen
No
Yes
No
No
MARLOWE
Yes
No
No
No
No
Linen
No
Yes

No

No
MASONIC TEMPLE
Yes
No
No
No
No
Linen
Yes
Yes
No
No
McVICKER’S
Yes
No
No
Yes
No
Asbestos
Yes
Yes
Yes
Yes
NEW AMERICAN
Yes
No
No
No
No
Linen
No
Yes
No
No
OLYMPIC
Yes
No
No
Yes
No
Canvas
Not Legal
Yes
No Report
Yes
PEOPLE’S INSTITUTE
Yes
Not Complete
No
No
No
Asbestos
Yes
Yes
No
Yes
POWERS
Yes
No
No
No
No
Asbestos
Yes
Yes
Yes
Yes
SAM T. JACK’S
Yes
No
No
No
No
Burlap
Yes
Yes
Yes
No
STUDEBAKER
Yes
No
Not On Stage
No
No
Asbestos
Yes
Yes
Yes
Yes
TROCADERO
Yes
No
No
No
No
Asbestos
No
Yes
No
No

Above chart published in Chicago Tribune January 2, 1904.


AFTERMATH

Yet some good came out of this tragedy. Lax enforcement of fire regulations became a thing of the past. All Chicago theatres were closed until they passed inspection. The effect spread beyond Chicago to every city in the country, where new ordinances were enacted and old ones enforced, so that theatres have never again been the menace they were before.

In the aftermath of the disaster, Will Davis, Manager of the Iroquois, was later charged and convicted of misfeasance. Chicago’s mayor was also indicted, though the charges didn’t stick. The theater owner was convicted of manslaughter due to the poor safety provisions; the conviction was later appealed and reversed (1907). In fact, the only person to serve any jail time in relation to this disaster was a nearby saloon owner who had robbed the dead bodies while his establishment served as a makeshift morgue following the fire.

The “absolutely fireproof” building survived with minimal damage and was reopened about a year later as the Colonial Theater. The building was torn down in 1924 to make way for the Oriental Theatre. The theatre has been renamed the Ford Center for the Performing Arts.


The Panic Bar
A salesman from an Indianapolis hardware store named Carl Prinzler was supposed to be in the audience that day. However, other business dealings called him elsewhere. In this era it was common for theatres and the like to lock interior and exterior doors to prevent non-paying persons from entering. This also inhibited persons on the inside from exiting. As was the case during the Iroquois Theatre Fire, all doors were locked and/or bolted which prevented patrons from exiting, causing most to be burned alive or succumbing to smoke inhalation. Prinzler was astounded at the enormous and senseless loss of life that night. He sought a way for doors into public facilities to be locked from the outside, but to allow egress from the inside with minimal effort during an emergency. Prinzler tapped into the architectural engineering abilities of Henry H. DuPont to develop a product. In 1908 the first model of a “panic bar” style egress device was released and Vonnegut Hardware Company (Clemens Vonnegut, great-grandfather of Kurt Vonnegut, Jr,) was utilized to market it. Owing to the joint effort to develop and sell the product, it was sold under the name Von Duprin, a combination of the names Vonnegut, DuPont and Prinzler.

The popular 88 Series crossbar exit devices still manufactured by Von Duprin have appear similar to the original design, although significant engineering changes have been made.

Von Duprin continues to manufacture security related products and is a brand of Allegion plc.


map

The Panic Bar


Chicago Tribune December 31, 1910

CITY GETS IROQUOIS HOSPITAL


Institution in Memory of Theater Victims is Dedicated.


SPEAKERS RECALL TRAGEDY.


Exercises Held at Exact Hour of Disaster Seven Years Later.

Seven years after the Iroquois Theater fire, in which 600 persons lost their lives, Chicago’s long planned memorial of the catastrophe was dedicated. The memorial is the new Iroquois Memorial Emergency Hospital at 87 Market Street, which was dedicated yesterday and which was erected with funds raised by the Iroquois Memorial Association.

The afternoon exercises were at the hospital and the evening program was held in the Y.M.C.A. auditorium. The tragedy was recalled by Dr. W. A. Evans, commissioner of health, at almost the exact hour in which it took place, between 3 and 3:30 o’clock.

“We meet here today,” said he, “at the time of day when, just seven years ago, those whose tragic end we commemorate were on their way to death.

“It is well that they should not have died in vain, but that some good should come out of their sacrifice and suffering. Such calamities should make us greater in charity, philanthropy, and blessing. They should make us realize that we are all one family.”


map

Iroquois Hospital, 23 N. Wacker Drive, 1910
Lorado Taft’s Iroquois Tablet, “Motherhood of the World protecting the children of the universe”


Turn Hospital Over to City.
President S. H. Regensburg made the dedication address and presented the hospital to the city and its keys to Dr. Evans at the evening session.

R. T. Crane Jr., honorary president of the association, spoke briefly, and was followed by Dr. Gorge J. Tobias on “Need of This Emergency Station.”

Dr. Tobias said he hoped some day the proper influence would rise and bring about a permanent injunction against the use of the scene of the fire for amusement purposes and that a permanent memorial may be raised on the spot instead.

About fifty persons who lost members of their families in the disaster listened to the speaking.


Cares for Downtown Accidents.
As explained by the speakers, the hospital was built to provide instant and free attention to victims of accidents downtown, the lack of which, it was said, was the cause of many of the deaths in the theater fire.

Temporary assistance will be rendered, the capacity being about sixty patients. The building cost about $50,000 and will be ready for occupancy in a short time.


map

The Burning Iroquois
Sheet Music
Words by Mathew Goodwin, Music by Edward Stanley
Publisher: McKinley Music Co., © 1904


Filed Under: What's New

Origin of the Y Symbol

December 22, 2015 by Administrator Leave a Comment


Origin of the Y Symbol


Chicago Tribune, September 11, 1892

COLORS FOR CHICAGO.


“THE TRIBUNE” OFFERS $100 FOR THE BEST SUGGESTION.


Citizens Take Hold of the Idea with Energy and Already Many Preferences Are Expressed by People Prominent in World’s Fair and Business Circles-The Time-Honored and Artistic Custom of European Cities-The Love of Alumni for the Colors of Their Alma Mater.

At the meeting of World’s Fair officials, representatives of the municipal government, and owners and lessees of large buildings Friday night to take the preliminary steps towards an organized plan of action in decorating the city for the dedicatory exercises in October. F. D. Millet, the artist, by invitation submitted some suggestions. Though he says they were hastily prepared Mr. Millet seems to have had a happy idea. Speaking about decorations in general he said, among other things:

The ordinary failure made in decorating streets and buildings is in trying to make a harlequin effect. If you remember the decoration, at the time of tho death of President Lincoln, where tie people only used black and white you will recall how striking, impressive, and artistic was the general effect. Now, in general terms, the facade of a building is best decorated with one color alone or with two or three colors properly arranged without any special regard to the employment of tbe red, white. and blue. A sufficient of prominence may be readily given to patriotic decoration by the introduction in appropriate places of a group of American flags, or of streamers and rosettes, or anything of the kind introducing the three colors. It must not be forgotten that one great principle of decoration is that is to say. a great deal is gained by having a wealth of any chosen form, flag, ornament. But at the same time nothing can be worse in street decoration than the red. white, and blue printed stuff, covered with small stars, which is now on the market.

Mr. Millet then went on to say:

Almost all European cities have chosen colors, as the universities and colleges have done, and these are called the “municipal colors.” Would it not be now to see if the authorities of Chicago will not select a color or of colors as the “municipal colors” for the city? If this is done it will simplify thoe whole matter of civic decoration very and afford a which will, I am sure, be followed in all great cities of the Union.

This suggestion of Mr. Millet seems to have caught a public fancy, as will be seen from the interviews given herewith.

To all the good work The Tribune offers a prIze of $100 for the best of a color or of colors for at “municipal color” for Chicago. The suggestions will be judged by a committee of artists, and the conditions will be announced later on.

The idea of a “municipal color” is catchy. There is both interest and sense in it. Harvard has its crimson, Yale its blue, Ann Arbor its yellow and blue, Princeton its orange, in fact, every college and university in the land has its color and loyal alumni glory in the colors of their alma mater.

Chicago’s unparalleled progress has been in no small degree due to the intense local pride and loyalty of its citizens of all classes. “Shoulder to shoulder, close ranks ” has always been the , and tne consequence is a vast of justifiable civic pride which would doubtless welcome a to display itself in the display of a “municipal color.”

Following are interviews on the subject:

Everybody Favors It.
I. K. Boyeaen, Master of Chancery—Tho idea of a municipal color is exceedingly pretty and I strongly favor it. I am against any combination of colors. To my mind violet would be the best color. It is a blending of many shades, and certainly the population of Chicago is a blending of as many nationalities as you will find anywhere on earth. I believe the adoption of a municipal color would tend to stimulate local pride, and that is a good thing.

Dr. T. N. Jamieson, City Sealer—The suggestion is a good one and I am for it from first to last. I believe that the citizens of Chicago would grow to have a deep love for their municipal color and take pride in displaying it. To my mind there is only one color that would be appropriate or symbolical of the city. That is sad. There is no hesitation, no backwardness. nothing half way about Chicago. The municipal color should be positive, decisive. Red is just that.

Charles L. Willoughby of Willoughby. Hill & Co.—Yes, let us have a municipal color. The suggestion is excellent. I am for a combination of colors. Blue would not do. It is too mild. Yellow would be out of the race. It savors too much of the cholera. Red, too, is out of the question. It’s against the city ordinances; at least the police won’t let tbe red flag be carried here. I am not sure but that the colors Columbus sailed under would be the most appropriate emblem we could select.

Henry Sherman Boutell of the Chicago and Northern Pacific railroad—I want a city emblem or color. I’m a Harvard man and of course favor crimson. No weak, irresolute, or indistinct color should be selected. Red or crimson is all that and is besides the color of strength and bravery. In heraldry the color red or crimson is designated in uncolored by vertical lines and is known as the tincture gules. Gules is represented by the gem ruby and by the planet Mars. There is something appropriate in taking red or crimson as the municipal color, which is symbolized by the beautiful and priceless ruby, and by “the star of the unconquered will,” as Longfellow calls the brilliant planet Mars. In Roman mythology Mars was not so much the god of war as the protector of the city, the god of the land, of agriculture, and of flocks. He most often worshiped in this character as Triumphater. Surely Chicago ought to wear the color that symbolizes courage, strength, and triumph.

H. P. Wadhmams—A good scheme. I am glad the suggestion was made. I hesitate to recommend a color, for I think that should be be done with extreme care. I am not an admirer of red, yet I think it would be a good color-strong positive.

Malcom Boddie—The suggestion to adopt a distinctive color for Chicago is good and I will do all I can to further the scheme. I am opposed to all combinations. I want a single color and that a strong, positive one. Red is good.

Theatrlcal Managers Differ.
Manager Sharpe of McVicker’s—The color theme should by all means be taken from the sunset. Let gold be tbe basis, which may be softened to a cream tint or heightened to tan. Now it is generally admitted that the decorations of McVicker’s Theatre are the most-

Manager Powers of Hooley’s—For a municipal flag the State arms might serve, or something might be made of the city seal. O, a primary color, oh? WelL how would green do? lt ought to favorably strike a majority in the Council.

Manager Henderson of the Chicago Opera House—Artists should compete in making designs which could be to taste. The strongest combination of colors is composed of red, white, and blue. They are the national colors of this and several countries. Besides we use those colors in our posters. Let me point out to you in this three-sheet of “Ali Baba”-

Manager Davis of the Columbia—Yellow symbolizes the grain which is the staple of the west; it is also the color of thle golden rod, which has many advocates as the national flower,

Manager Harry Hamlin of the Grand Opera—I’m for red. That’s the color we always celebrate with in Chicago.

Goorgo R. Davis, Director General World’s Fair—I think it is a first rate suggestion. It is an idea generally adopted abroad and I see no reason why Chicago should not do so. Black and white form a striking combination, but we want no mournful colors, so I think I would prefer red and white.

County Commissioner Ballard—It is a good idea. I have seen some suggestions of yellow and black. I believe tho ladies know more about it than we do. I would follow their suggestion, which, I understand, is yellow and black.

(County Commissioner Spofford—I anm in favor of working in the colors of red, white, and , principally red and blue, By all means make it uniform throughout the city. I like the idea.

Eli Moutgortery—Let us decorate toe streets witi a uniform color. I think that red and white would be good color. I think that red and white would make a pleasing effect and be satisfactory to every one,

A. O. Cooper, President Twelfth Ward Republican Club—The idea should be promoted by every one, and I hope that a uniform color will be established. Red, white, and blue, the national colors, are always good enough for me under any circumstances, and I hope these colors will be the ones decided upon.

Col. L. H. Whitney—Quote me as favoring the scheme and let us have uniform colors. I believe we cannot improve upon the national colors. They are appropriate as well as . beautiful. A committee should be appointed in each section of the city to look after this matter.

T. C. Matlack—No better plan could be adopted than decorating the city, and let us have no variance in decorations. While I have no particular choice and have the matter over but little I will say that at present I favor red, white, and blue.

Charles C. Reed—I think it is all excellent idea, and also an appropriate one. I have not given the matter much thought and am not decided as to colors, but I think a combination would be better than a solid color. It strikes mr that blue and gold would be appropriate.

Willis Jackson—I heartily concur in the idea amd think it a good one, but my artistic taste is not cultivate4 to permit a suggestion as to the color or colors that should-be adopted.

C. L. Rising—I am in favor of the idea. I liko tho sentiment and think of this character should be adopted by all means. I do not know what colors should be selected, and before expressing an opinion would want to give the matter some thought.


bot
Chicago Tribune October 1, 1892
Terra-cotta and white is The Tribune’s suggestion for “municipal colors” for Chicago—the World’s Fair City. The design is a field of terra-cottaveither flag, banner, or shield—divided in three parts by a band of white. This combination of colors and the design are the suggestion of The Tribune’s prize “municipal color” contest.

The winner is Alfred Jensen Roewad, and his suggestion, No. 17, is as follows:

The three parts indicate the three Chicago divisions—North, West, and South—united with a white or silver band—the river. Red and white are the best colors for decorating, both with house fronts and green leaves as backgrounds.
A.J. ROEWAD.

Accompanying this suggestion are two colored designs—a banner (triangular flag) and shield, as shown herewith. The flag which is shown was drawn by F. D. Millet, the artist, after Mr. Roewad’s design, as showing how it could be applied to flag form.

Following is the award of the committee appointed by the Citizens’ World’s Fair committee:

We, the undersigned, the committe appointed by Mr. F. D. Millet, to examine the suggestions for “municipal colors,” sent us by The Chicago Tribune, would say that among the said suggestions the colors which seem to us the most suitable for decorative purposes are red and white, as being forcible, gay, durable, and of great simplicity. Seen against the blue sky they would also suggest the national colors. Silver could be used as an occasional variation upon white and gold as an accessory on staffs, stars, eagles, etc.

Among the several suggestions for red and white, the most decorative, in our opinion, is Number seventeen (No. 17).
WALTER SHIRLAW,
WALTER McEWEN,
E. H. BLASHFIELD,
Committee.


What Artist Millet Thinks.
Mr. Millet’s communication concerning the award is as follows:

CHICAGO—Sept. 30—(Editor of The Tribune.)—
Please find enclosed the report of the Committee of Artists who have been judging the competitive suggestions for a municipal color. They desire me to call to your attention to the fact that a great proportion of the suggestions referred to designs for a flag or some other device and comparatively few stuck to the point of color alone. In the opinion of the Committee the design for a municipal flag suggested by No. 17, to display the proper combination of colors, is ingenious, appropriate, and decorative. It is significant and simple, and recalls a heraldic device, or rather, is reminiscence of the way coats of arms and banners were designed in the days of chivalry. The Committee further approves of suggestion No. 166, or a modification of it, as also decorative and appropriate. This is a phoenix in red flames on a white ground.
Yours faithfully,
F. D. MILLET.

Red is a color that includes many shades and variations, and one of these is terra cotta. In view of the fact that since The Tribune made its offer of $100 for the best suggestion for “municipal colors” the Citizens’ World’s Fair committee has adopted terra cotta as a background for decorations for the dedicatory exercises it has has been thought best by The Tribune to select terra cotta as the red in combination with white.

Mr. Roewad had intended the use of a brighter red, but said last night:

I consent to the use of terra cotta in my design. On second thought I approve it, for the reason, among others, that it has no likeness to colors used by any nation.

The Tribune competition was opened Sept. 11. It was started in accordance with the paper’s desire to stimulate the invention of Chicagoans in devising a municipal color, the need of which was described by Frank D. Millet before a meeting of the World’s Fair officials, municipal officers, and owners of large buildings. The meeting was held to consider the subject of decorating the city during the World;s Fair dedicatory exercises. This is what Mr. Millet said:

Almost all European cities have chosen colors, as the universities and colleges have done, and these are called the “municipal colors.” Would it not be now to see if the authorities of Chicago will not select a color or of colors as the “municipal colors” for the city? If this is done it will simplify thoe whole matter of civic decoration very and afford a which will, I am sure, be followed in all great cities of the Union.


bot

Left to Right: Mr. F. D. Millet, Mr. Roewad’s Banner and Mr. Alfred Roewad


The Tribune’s Proposition
The idea seemed to be an excellent one, and it met with immediate favor. The Tribune opened the competition with this announcement:

For the best suggestion of a color or combination of colors for a “municipal color” for Chicago $100 in cash. The suggestions will be judged by a committee of artists who will not be aware of the names of the persons competing. The contest is open to all persons. No suggestions will be received after Sept. 20.

Two days later ninety-eight suggestions had been received. Among them was Mr. Roeward’s. Sept. 15 the list had swollen to 164. Suggestions continued to come rapidly, and Sept. 21, when the competition closed, 829 had been received. Each as it arrived was numbered and its points were briefly described in The Tribune. Many of the suggestions were accompanied by long explanations, others were straight to the point. Numerous sketches were received, nearly all of which showed cared in the execution.


All Sent to Mr. Millet.
The 829 letters, notes, and sketches were tied up in a big bundle and sent to Frank D. Millet at the World’s Fair grounds. He arranged the brief synopsis of the suggestions which The Tribune had published in a convenient ahape and then called in jis committee of artists, Walter Shirlaw, Walter McEwan, and R. H. Blashfield, co-laborers of Mr. Millet in the work of decorating the World’s Fair buildings. The committee went to work over a week ago. They studied the suggestions with care and took time to do it thoroughly. The whole list was gone over first and every suggestion which was meritorious was marked with a blue pencil. Then in turn these were examined and the best winnowed out. These last were then examined and reexamined until finally No. 17 was fixed upon as the best.

The committee communicated their decision to Mr. Millet. He opened the bundle and hunted through the mass of papers until the envelope marked No. 17 was found. Then he wrote the letter to The tribune which is published herewith, inclosing with it the artist’s written award and Mr. Roeward’s water-color sketch. He handed his letter and the enclosure to a reporter yesterday afternoon.


Is an Excellent Suggestion.
“It is an excellent suggestion,” said he, “excellent for several reasons. The colors blend beautifully; they are genial, and they will appear bright against and background. They will deck the city with that gay and joyous air which suits the grand occasion next month. I like the device very much. It is heraldic and may be used in either a flag, shield or a banner. The device is so simple that it may be made at home. Hardly any skill is required. The colors are too easily procurable. The committee had in mind these two conditions because the artistic sense will be gratified if something like a uniform scheme of decoration is pursued. And for the reasons I have just stated suggestion No. 17 makes this possible.”

Mr. Millet said there were some really excellent ideas included in the suggestions. It was plain that many were made by younfg people, but plenty of them showed a color sense that was noticeable. Walther Shirlaw, one of the committee, told a reporter that the design and the combination of colors were excellent. They were bright and gay and they were capable of being combined with other tints in a harmonious whole.


bot

Triumphal Arch
Columbian Exposition Dedication Ceremony
October 20, 1892


Career of the Winner.
Although Mr. Roewad said with a smile last night that he had never earned $100 so easily before, it is evident from his career that he has the ability and purpose to earn many hundreds of hundred dollars before he dies. His history, and be is still a young man, is interesting. With his design he inclosed the following card:

A. J. ROEWAD
ARCHITECT,
WORLD’S FAIR, BUREAU OF CONSTRUCTION,
AND
905 N. WASHTENAW AVE.

Alfred J. Roewad (Rõvad in Danish) was born in Copenhagen, Denmark, July 10, 1848, and lived there until two years ago, when he came with his wife and four children to Chicago, arriving here in May, 1890. He is an architect and civil engineer by profession, and upon his arrival here was much interested by that purely American idea—iron and steel construction. He turned his attention to a study of this method of construction, and secured employment with the Keystone Bridge company. From it he went into the office of A. Gottlieb, who was at that time World’s Fair Supervising Architect. He then went to the World’s Fair, entering the Bureau of Construction. His work has been highly successful in this department, inasmuch as he made most of the detail drawings for the immense trusses of the Manufactures and Liberal Arts Building.

Mr. Roewad speaks and writes good, English, has taken out his first papers, and intends to live the rest of his years in Chicago.

Speaking of his design, he said last night:

In regard to the special colors for Chicago, I think it is right to give a heraldic and graphic expression of Chicago, as it is and always will be divided by the river in three sides—North Side, West Side, and South Side. The brightest colors should be used, Red, white and blue are the national colors. From these bI thought it right to select red and white, as the brightest and most practical for decoration. Red and white stand well together, but any other color beside the red changes it and it looks less bright. Red and white stand well with green leaves on trees, the blue sky, and the different house fronts. The third national color, the blue, is generally too dark in any other combination than the Stars and Stripes. We can always get red and white in good stuff with fast colors for flags, and other decorations, but not as well the blue.

Therefore I selected red and white for my suggestion—I handed in another later on. The ‘municipal’ part of the idea naturally suggested the North, West, and South Sides, and, of course, the river is the dividing line between them. So there’s nothing startling about the design.

My other suggestion consisted of three triangular banners—one blue with a white star, one rem and one white. My idea was to use these banners—the national colors—in groups.

Why He Came to Chicago.
In spite of my love for my country I decided my ideas and work were too American to agree with the slow Danish development. After a struggle I sold out everything and started to find the center of the world and its civilization. I was sure the westward growing civilization had its headquarters in the United States, but where in this country was center? I thought it would be in Chicago, but nobody could be sure of this, and it was a kind of lottery to select any place. As soon as the World’s Fair question was settled I came to Chicago at once.

Of course it is a serious thing to shift nationality. A thousand questions streamed into my soul. You are too American for Copenhagen, are you American enough for Chicago? I had been studying in Paris, Vienna, and other cities, and it was plain every place had its originalities, and of course Chicago had its. I will see London and see how Chicago and Chicagoans look. I knew that the women of the other European metropolises were most characteristic of the inhabitants. I will look at the women of London and see how they compare with my ideal. I staid there a week, but it is far more difficult to find the English types than those of other cities. Homely faces, short, and clumsy figures, dressed without taste, were the ruling features. Either a special nose fostered by the fog and smoke or the remains of the Celt.

Arriving here my first task was to seek the American type as it expressed itself in the street passengers. Who can reveal my joy! I looked and was afraid it was a dream. I saw the most beautiful and vivid type of man. These slender, lovely girls, with small hands and feet, natural and healthy, with brighter eyes tahn I ever saw before, expressed my ideal in better form. This was my first impression and it has grown stronger since. I have been studying Chicago’s history, its resources. I am happy whenever it makes a step forward.

Is Also an Author.
Though Mr. Roewad does not complain it is plain that his struggle for life in the old country was severe. He tried his hand at authorship, and published a number of pamphlets on art and construction. Some of them are: “A Proposition for a Building Law,” Ventilation,” “Art and Art Institutes,” “A National Museum,” “A Ship Canal Through Copenhagen,” and “Workmen’s Homes.” He also wrote for the magazines.

Suggestion No. 166 received honorable mention at the hands of the Committee of award, by which it meant to say that No. 166 was the second best for decorative purposes. The suggestion follows, but the man who made it has a signature like a bank cashier. The consequence id that his surname may be Janney, or anything else beginning with “J” and ending with “Y.” This is his suggestion:

CHICAGO—Sept. 13—(Editor of The Tribune.)—
For the municipal colors I would suggest white with flames or a bar of red. For a design to accompany these colors a phœnix and nest of flames on a white field.
R.E. JANNEY.


Mr. Millet was a Titanic Victim.
Mr. F. D. Millet’s ancestors ancestors arrived on the Mayflower and he was born November 3, 1846 in Mattapoisett, Massachusetts.

On April 10, 1912, Mr. Millet boarded the RMS Titanic at Cherbourg, France, bound for New York City. Some reports of survivors seem to indicate that the last acts of Mr. Millet and his friend Major Archibald Willingham Butt before the last lifeboats were boarded were to give their life preservers to the last women to leave the ship. His body was recovered after the sinking by the cable boat Mackay-Bennett and returned to East Bridgewater, Massachusetts, where he was buried in Central Cemetery.


Chicago Tribune, November 09, 1999

Fads come and go, like arty cows and splashy logos. But Chicago’s “Y” symbol, nearly 107 years old and counting, is the stuff of history (and at least one famous Loop theater marquee).

Only it won’t be part of upcoming millennium festivities.

Y not? For a millennium logo, the city instead has hitched its wagon to a star — a roughly drawn, six-pointed star, to be exact.

“We felt our (millennium) logo derived from a very strong symbol of the city, the flag, but gives it a new twist,” says Eva Silverman, millennium celebration coordinator for the Department of Cultural Affairs.

Planners were “looking for something new and exciting that will catch people’s eyes, because it’s partly a marketing tool” as well as a symbol, says Silverman.

The stolid old Y, on the other hand, is a civic symbol pure and simple. For decades, the city put it on schools and other public buildings, bridges and its big municipal pier.

Why a Y? Because the man who conceived it in 1892 said the letter’s arms represented the branches of the Chicago River. And as the city’s first resident, Jean Baptiste Point DuSable, knew, geography is indeed destiny.

Is a symbol that old still relevant? Carroll William Westfall, chairman of the architecture department at the University of Notre Dame, calls the Y a reminder that the river was Chicago’s first real link to the outside world. “That’s what a symbol can do,” he argues.

Some city agencies would seem to agree. The Chicago Public Library displays the Y prominently on its Web site and the Board of Education has built at least one school addition this year with Y symbols resplendent in limestone. Upcoming projects at the Department of Transportation may also sport a Y or two, according to agency sources.

But it hasn’t rubbed off on that part of city government in charge of things millennial. The official star logo (done gratis by several prominent members of the Chicago graphic design community) consists of the letter M repeated three times. The M’s stand for the immediate past, present and future millennia. A thick blue line under the star represents the lake while four small stars crowning the big one are borrowed from the Chicago flag.

It was a fair, represented by one of those stars on the flag, that prompted the creation of no less than three of our city symbols. In 1892, the approaching Columbian Exposition spurred the Chicago Inter-Ocean to sponsor a contest for the best image “typical of (Chicago’s) spirit,” as one of the newspaper’s editors put it. So was born the “I Will” woman.

“I Will” — Chicago’s longtime motto, which contrasts with the millennium celebration’s frothy slogan, “For the time of your life” — was meant as a testament to civic gumption and perseverance.

Both woman and motto were the product of contest winner Charles Holloway, a prominent Chicago artist. Holloway created a figure that was a mix of Helen of Troy and Dame Liberty, with a helping of Chicago attitude. She wore a breastplate adorned with the phrase “I Will.”



Filed Under: What's New

I Recall

December 1, 2015 by Administrator Leave a Comment


park


park

BY HUGH FULLERTON
The Sporting News
October 17, 1935

Two years always stand out in memory whenever I happen to get into one of those : “Don’t you remember” sessions which last all night if old-timers get together. One in 1908, the most dramatic and sensational in baseball history, and the other 1919, the year of the Black Sox scandal.

There has been so much discussion of that scandal, and so much criticism of baseball officials and club owners for not investigating and exploding the plot, and so many wrong tales told, that I recall vividly almost every incident.

Many persons have asked me, “Why didn’t someone do something when so many persons knew something crooked was coming off?” The plain answer is that they did not believe a fixed series was a possibility.

I was working for a syndicate then and was to meet the boss and some of the others—including Christy Mathewson—in Cincinnati the day before the series was to start. Knew all the White Sox and the majority of the Reds and most of them were my friends, and the idea that anything crooked was being planned never entered my head. Early in the morning before the series started, I met Joe Jackson, the Detroit sporting writer, and we went to a speak-easy to get an eye-opener. The place was half a block from the Sinton, where we were stopping. In the bar, we encountered a Chicago gambler. I knew him by sight, and he knew me. After a time, I introduced him to Joe Jackson. He looked surprised, thinking the grizzled old reporter was the ball player. He drew me aside and asked if I had talked to Joe about the “fix”—and asked me to learn from Joe whether it was to be Cincinnati in straight victories. Thinking him a crank, Joe and I started kidding him and told him Cincinnati was to win five straight games.

Many Rumors Floating Around.
We laughed over the idea, neither thinking of it seriously. An hour or so later the boys from New York came in, and with them odd rumors. They had the tip that the series was fixed. The tip came straight from Arnold Rothstein, who had told friends that he had been approached, but refused to finance the crooks, but that it was safe to bet someone had.

All day, the rumors increased in strength. I called one of the White Sox, who was my friend, and went over the rumors with him. He denied that anything was doing and scoffs at the whole story. I asked him to keep his ears open and see what was going on, if anything, and he promised t do so. And all the time he was one of the principals in the plot. About noon, I was going across to the telegraph office and met Bill Burns. I had known and liked that odd, interesting character when he was pitching for Chicago. I did not mention the stories but we talked for a few minutes about the series nd he said” “Get wise and get yourself some money.” It was not what Bill said, but the way he said it that startled me.

That evening, a crowd of us went to a road house in Kentucky and had a party, at which talk of the series being fixed was free—too free. I came away and reached the hotel, where I was rooming with Matty. We were sitting up in bed talking over the situation. I was telling Matty all about the rumors I have heard, and of the odd actions of some of the boys, when he suddenly exploded out of his usual calm and said:

Damn them, (meaning the club owners), they have it coming to them. I caught two crooks and they whitewashed them.

We were still talking at 3 in the morning when Pat Moran, wild with anger, broke into the room, charging me with taking one of his pitchers out and trying to get him drunk. I had not seen the pitcher, and was mad. Pat was madder, until Matty cut in and assured him that I had not been with any of the Cincinnati players. As a matter of fact, Pat was right about the player—but he had the wrong reporter.

The following morning, early, I talked with two big-shot Chicago gamblers, who told me flat-footedly that the series was fixed for Cincinnati to win.


park

Charles “Commy” Comiskey


Comiskey and Johnson in Feud
I was much upset and went to Comiskey to urge him to take some action. He already had heard about it. He was furious, because, he charged, Johnson would do nothing. I urged him to forget his feud with the league president, and to call on him to act. He refused angrily.

I then went to Johnson. I think Johnson already had heard the rumors. I put it to him straight that the evidence indicated a crooked series. He scoffed and said it was just Comiskey squealing. Unable to make any progress, I cornered Barney Dreyfuss, and demanded of him, that he, in the interests of the sport, act so as to force Johnson to make some move. Barney was enraged that anyone should accuse players of framing a series. I lost my temper and raised Cain with him and with the entire baseball set-up, calling them a bunch of whitewashing bastards who were letting a bunch of crooks get away with it because they were afraid of losing money.

I told him that five of the White Sox were in the plot—and named the five—I told him a lot of things as facts which I couldn’t prove, and he only got madder and more indignant. I think, however, that our angry interview scared Barney, for he went to Comiskey—or Comiskey sent for him.

Before the game was over I was morally certain that the rumors were based on truth. That evening, while I was writing, Ray Schalk came into the room. The grand little man was in a high state of excitement and he declared loudly that the pitcher had crossed him in signals, at least eight times in that game, and that Cincinnati’s victory came off pitched balls thrown exactly opposite to his signals. “Little man,” I said, “keep your mouth shut, or go to Comiskey and Gleason. If you make charges against anyone you’ll be the goat—you can’t prove them, and it would ruin you,”

The night before the series started I sent out a short message marked “black face precede to story” warning the fans that something queer was coming off, and to refuse to wager on the games or series. To show the faith of people in the honesty of baseball, only two newspapers out of 40 would print that precede, cautiously as worded.

When the series finally ended, I feared that my branding of the games as fixed might have wrecked a life friendship with Charles Comiskey. I sought Commy and found him, a broken and bitter man, in a small place near his park. We talked and suddenly he struck the table with clenched fist and said:

Keep after them, Hughie; they were crooked. Some day you and I will prove it.

It took almost a year to do it, but little by little, the evidence piled in, and proof accumulated. Then came the confessions and the clearing up of baseball’s worst blight.

But today, more than 15 years later, the full story never has been told and never will be, because Johnson, Comiskey, Herrmann, and Alf Austrian, the only ones who knew it all, are dead.


Filed Under: What's New

Joe Jackson Trial

December 1, 2015 by Administrator Leave a Comment


park


The Sporting News April 10, 1924

What Became of $10,000 Reward Comiskey Offered
for Discovery of World’s Series Crookedness?
Asks FRANK G. MENKE


BY FRANK G. MENKE


EDITOR’S NOTE—This is the first of a series of four articles by Frank G. Menke which emphasize the amazing admission by Charles A. Comiskey that he knew the World’s Series games of 1919 were crooked two days they had been played. Other chapters of the morbid Series also were written by Comiskey in his testimony in the Jackson case and will be reviewed in these articles.


WHAT MENKE CHARGES:

Exactly one day after the World’s Series of 1919 had been played, Joe Jackson walked into the White Sox office, displayed $5,000 in cash, and informed Harry Grabiner, the club secretary, that he had been given that sum by fellow players who had “thrown” the Series to the Reds.

Two days after the Series had been played, Charles A. Comiskey, president of the White Sox, knew the identity of the seven White Sox players who had been tools of the crooked gamblers.

Despite the knowledge which Grabiner had, and the knowledge which Comiskey had, neither man made a determined effort to ferret out the real secret of the World’s Series crookedness of 1919—and both of the officials permitted all of the crooked men to resume play in the White Sox line-up of 1920.


The startling facts above and many others, were established on the witness stand in Milwaukee in February, 1924, when Joe Jackson’s trial against the White Sox for $17,500 salary bonus and interest, was waged to successful conclusion by “Shoeless Joe.” For some strange reason, the real findings which that trial produced, and the amazing admissions made by Comiskey and by Grabiner were either buried in the general news stories—or, in some way, deleted. They never found their way into the public print.

The testimony which that trial produced writes an entirely new chapter concerning the crooked Series—and its bewildering aftermath. It’s a story, frankly admitted by Comiskey, whereby he knew that some of his players had been crooked, but rather than wreck the ball club, he permitted them to play the following season.


Ben Johnson Got Facts.
Only when Ban Johnson became suspicious and started an investigation did Comiskey make a bluff investigation of his own. And, to complete the bluff that he knew nothing about the truth to the reports that the Series was crooked, Comiskey boldly announced to the world:

I will give $10,000 to any man who can prove to me that any of my players were crooked.

Comiskey made that declaration long after he knew, according to his own sworn testimony, that the Series had been crooked; and long after he knew exactly which men had been crooked, and long after he knew practically all of the details of the “sell out.”

Another admission by Comiskey, among the dozen that he made, was this:

Although he knew two days after the series was concluded the identities of the men who had played dishonest baseball, neither he nor any of his representatives attempted to get a signed statement from the players; that in full knowledge of their ??? he permitted them to play in 1920, and that he started an “investigation” merely as a subterfuge to fall back upon in case Ban Johnson made a successful investigation.


park


Promised to Prove Point.
The story as it unfolded itself at the trial, under the grilling questioning and cross examination by Ray J. Cannon of Milwaukee, attorney for Jackson, is one of the most remarkable of the many the concern the morbid Series.

More than a year ago when Jackson went to Cannon and told him his story, Cannon made the prediction that Jackson’s case was so strong that Jackson could not lose in a jury trial. When some of the White Sox officials scoffed at the Cannon statement the Milwaukee attorney predicted that if the case ever went to trial it would expose the most revolting feature of the entire situation:

I will prove that Comiskey knew about the crookedness of his player within at least a week after the Series was over.

And he proved that, and many other weird and strangest things in the suit which eventually resulted in the jury awarding Jackson a verdict for $18,213,40, which was full judgement as follows:

Two years—1921 and 1922, salary at $8,000 per annum, $1,500 bonus.
Interest on both.


The second chapter detailing the facts will appear in next week’s issue of The Sporting News.


The Sporting News April 17, 1924

Menke Writes Another Chapter in White Sox Scandal Investigation


Jackson Signed to Three Year Contract by White Sox
After Player Admitted to Secretary Grabiner He Had
Received $5,000 from Representatives of Gamblers


BY FRANK G. MENKE


EDITOR’S NOTE—This is the second of a series of four articles by Frank G. Menke which emphasize the amazing admission by Charles A. Comiskey that he knew the World’s Series games of 1919 was crooked two days they had been played—and many other admissions by Comiskey for testimony which write a new chapter in the morbid play of 1919 for the world’s baseball championship


It may be recalled that in December, 1919, there came whisperings that the World Series of 1919 had been thrown by the White Sox to the Cincinnati Reds. Eventually they were silenced, only to develop into a rumble of sound late in the summer of 1920. Then Ban Johnson started an investigation, hiring a force of detectives to learn the truth or the falsity of the stories.

Charles A. Comiskey, owner of the White Sox, assuming the air of a man shocked and stunned by the rumors, announced he earlier hired detectives to do some investigating,—and they had not uncovered any crookedness. The reason was due, largely to the fact that Comiskey, who knew the truth, kept it covered. He knew that when it became known his ball club would be wrecked by indefinite suspensions by Ban Johnson.

Comiskey knew that the Series was crooked—nearly a year before it became generally known. He admitted that on the witness stand in Milwaukee last February. He also admitted that none of his detectives had done a single bit of “investigating” beyond interviewing “Chick” Gandil and making a trip to the Pacific Coast and back.


park

Joe Jackson at the 1924 trial


Johnson Acts Immediately.
The Johnson investigators, however, uncovered the real truth, They established that the Series had been crooked, they learned who the players were and transmitted this knowledge to Johnson. He immediately took it to the office of the district attorney, asked for indictments—and secured them.

Immediately after Johnson learned who the men were who had been dishonest, he suspended them from the game. Then he banned them forever from baseball. That was in October, 1920.

In 1922, to the surprise of the baseball world, Joe Jackson sued Comiskey for two years salary—and Ray J. Cannon, of Milwaukee, announced that Jackson had an unloseable case agains the the White Sox. Cannon declared he would prove that Comiskey’s authorized agent, signed Jackson to a three-year contract after Comiskey had knowledge that Jackson received money from the gamblers who “bought” the Series.

Comiskey, under the cross examination of Cannon, did admit on the witness stand, that Jackson had been signed to a three-year contract after he (Comiskey) knew that Jackson had participated in the World’s Series spoils of 1919.

Jackson, it may be recalled, was always the mystery player of that Series. He out-battled every man on either team; he scored almost as many runs as the leading run scorer; he accepted 17 fielding chances without an error and played brilliant, remarkable baseball throughout.


Ignorant of Series Fixing.
It was, therefore, difficult for the public to believe that Jackson, in view of his remarkable record of play, could have played crooked baseball. Jackson’s story, told on the witness stand, and which was not disproved, explains it all. It went this way—

Jackson did not know the Series was crooked until after it was over. When the final game had been played, “Lefty” Williams, one of the White Sox pitchers, went to him and handed him $5,000 in cash.

Jackson asked what it was all about.

Williams, according to Jackson’s according to Jackson’w story, told him that he (Williams) and some of the other players had “sold” the Series to a gambling clique that, Jackson would play crooked ball, too =, and that the $5,000 represented the money the gamblers wanted given to Jackson.

“I told Williams he had a hell of a lot of nerve using my name in the affair,” Jackson testified. “Also I told him that I was going to tell Comiskey just what had happened.”

Jackson testified that the following day, with the $5,000 in his pockets, he went to the White Sox office and asked to Grabiner to see Comiskey. Grabiner told Jackson that “the old man isn’t feeling well.” Then according to Jackson, he displayed the $5,000 to Grabiner, told him how he had come by it and asked him what to do.


Told to Keep Money.
“Grabiner told me to take the money and go to my home in Savannah” testified Jackson. “He told me if anything further was to be done, he or Comiskey would write me about it. A short time later I got a letter from Comiskey in which he said he might want me to go to Chicago if an investigation was started about the Series. I wrote Comiskey, or, rather, my wife wrote in my name, that I would be glad to there any time. I never heard from Comiskey after that about the Series or the money until after we were indicted.

“I did not see or hear from Gradiner or Comiskey again until along in February, 1920,” testified Jackson. “My contract with the club had expired, with the end of 1919. In February, 1920, Grabiner came to Savannah to sign me to a new contract. He offered me $8,000 a year for three years. My old contract called for $6,000.

“While we were discussing the new contract, I brought up the talk again about the throwing of the Series and reminded Grabiner that I had taken the $5,000 to Savannah as he told me. I asked him what to do about it. Grabiner told me that the only sensible thing to do was to keep the money as Cicotte, Williams and the others had wrongfully used my name. While we were talking about the matter, Grabiner told me that he knew who was guilty in throwing the Series, knew all the men and how much each man got for being crooked.

“I can not read or write and I didn’t know what was in the new contract. Grabiner told me that it was for $8,000 per season, which was true. He also told me the document contain a ten day release clause, but was an iron-clad contract. That was not so, for the contract contained a ten day clause. But I didn’t know that and signed up.”

When the contract expired in 1922, Jackson, although he had not played for two years, due to suspension, retained Cannon to file suit for him for the salary.


The third chapter detailing the facts produced at the trial, together with Jackson’s defense, will appear in next week’s issue of The Sporting News.


The Sporting News April 24, 1924

Menke Details Startling Revelations
at Jackson’s Suit Against White Sox


Testimony Develops That Harry Grabiner Knew Once
Famous Player’s Name Had Been Linked With Scandal of
1919 When He Signed Him to Contract in Spring of 1920


BY FRANK G. MENKE


EDITOR’S NOTE—This is the last of a series of articles by Frank G. Menke which embrace the amazing admission by Charles A. Comiskey that he knew the World’s Series games of 1919 was crooked two days after it had been played and many other admissions by Comiskey for testimony which write a new chapter in the morbid play of 1919 for the world’s baseball championship


In February, 1924, when Joe Jackson’s suit against the White Sox for two years’ back salary—$16,000, and an additional $1,500 for bonus—came before the jury in Milwaukee, Ray J. Cannon, his attorney, opened with this declaration:—

We admit that Jackson received $5,000 from “Lefty” Williams and that the money was reported to have come from gamblers who had paid to have the Series “thrown” to the Reds.

We deny that Jackson knew the Series was crooked until after it was played—and his record of faultless play will show that.

We maintain that the contract Jackson made for three years’ play at $8,000 a year is absolutely valid.

We will prove that although Comiskey knew Jackson received $5,000 crooked money at the time he signed him to a contract which waives all of Comiskey’s defense against payment of the salary for 1921 and 1922 to Jackson.

When Comiskey went on the witness stand, these admissions were drawn from him by Cannon:

That two days after the Series he knew the names of the seven active White Sox who were involved in the throwing of the Series.

That he had called Chick Grandil to his office and accused him of being the ring leader in the deal with the gamblers.

That although he knew who the crooked players were he did not make any effort to obtain a written statement from them—in October, 1919—or later.

That he permitted all the known crooked players to remain in the 1920 line-up.


“Might Want Jackson.”
That he did write Jackson a letter after the Series of 1919, sending him to Savannah, Ga. that the letter stated that Jackson’s name was being mentioned in connection with the throwing of the Series; that he might want Jackson to come to Chicago, but never afterwards, verbally or in writing, did he mention the incident again to Jackson.

That soon after the Series was over he noticed a newspaper article by a Chicago writer stating that seven White Sox would be missing from the line-up in 1920; that shortly after the reporter called on him in his office, but that he never asked the reporter who were the players referred to.

That he hired detectives to “run down” the crookedness—but that the hiring of the men was merely a trick by which he could later show the public in case Ban Johnson began an investigation, that he (Comiskey) too, had tried to find out the truth.

That notwithstanding the fact that in October 1919 he accused Gandil of being the ring leader in the crookedness, and that he knew Gandil was one of the crooked players of the Series of 1919, he did send Grandil a contract for the playing of 1920, that he did sign him and did permit Gandil to play.

That in December, 1919 when a baseball reporter wrote a story saying that any one desirous of getting information as to the crookedness of the World’s Series of 1919, could get it from Abe Attell, Bill Burns, and Maharg, that he (Comiskey) did not attempt personally to get such information from them, nor did he he instruct his detectives to do so.


park

Joe Jackson at the 1924 trial with Happy Felsch


Another Point at Variance.
Comiskey, in giving deposition testimony in Chicago prior to the Milwaukee trial, declared that he had paid the detective agency $12,000 to $15,000. At the Milwaukee trial he fixed the amount at $9,000. The head of the detective agency testified at the Milwaukee trial that both statements were untrue; that the exact amount was $3,800.

Grabiner, on the witness stand, admitted knowing that Jackson’s name was strongly mentioned in connection with the throwing of the Series of 1919, but admitted that despite the fact he went to Savannah and signed up Jackson to a three-year contract at $8,000 per year for the seasons of 1920, 1921 and 1922.

Grabiner denied that bhe had discussed the Series with Jackson while in Savannah.

The jury brought in a verdict of $16,711.40 for Jackson and then added $1,500 to that amount, making a total verdict of $18,211.40. The extra $1,500 concerned a bonus which Comiskey had promised Jackson for his 1917 work.

In deposition testimony taken in Chicago quite some time before the Milwaukee trial of 1924, Comiskey in 1918 admitted that he knew about the $1,500 bonus that had been promised to Jackson. When testifying in Milwaukee, Comiskey said he never knew anything about this bonus until Jackson started his suit against him in 1922. The jury apparently decided to take Comiskey’s original statement as definite fact, declared in Jackson’s favor for the total sum of $18,211.40


AFTERMATH: Jackson said he got the money after the World Series as opposed to after Game 4, as he’d told the 1920 grand jury. Jackson said in 1924, but not 1920, that he’d used the money to pay his sister’s hospital bills.

Jackson’s story changed enough that after the 1924 jury ruled 11-1 in Jackson’s favor, the presiding judge set aside the verdict, reduced Jackson’s judgment to $1, and jailed him for a night for perjury.


Filed Under: What's New

Chicagology created March 17, 2003 · Copyright © 2021 · Enterprise Pro Theme on Genesis Framework · WordPress · Log in