Theatre Design & Technology - Feb 1972 - 8

was no more than 35 years old, but the press had
taken up the phrase "fireproof theatres" and given
it wide circulation. In 1892 an English architect
had rated the factor of fireproofing as equal to that
of good exits in reducing panic in theatre audiences. 22
The fireproof factor was much cried up in the
publicity which accompanied the opening of the
Iroquois Theatre in November of 1903. Public confidence thus inspired in the fireproof building produced results which were ultimately catastrophic.
This was the suggestion in a summary statement
of a report on the Iroquois fire written for the
Chicago Underwriters' Association. The gist of the
report was that the superior construction of the
building had created a sense of overconfidence
which led to the ordinary precautions against fire
being overlooked. The report emphasized that the
inflammable contents of a building are dangerous,
even if the building housing them is fireproof. 23
Edwin O. Sachs, Chairman of the British Fire
Prevention Committee, wrote that the planning of
the Iroquois Theatre was extremely bad-that it
was impossible to empty the auditorium rapidly.
He noted that main streams of traffic converged at
some points in the theatre; that, in certain cases,
streams of traffic met face to face. Some passages
and landings formed traps and blind alleys.24
A sprinkler system had been planned for the
building, but it was still under construction. The
theatre owned six tubes of a patented dry-powder
fire extinguisher-and the promise of a sprinkler
system. Beyond that, there was no fire-fighting apparatus of any kind in the Iroquois. 25
The show at the Iroquois on December 30,
1903, was a musical, Mr. Bluebeard, Jr., starring
Eddie Foy. Considerable effort had been made to
advertise the piece as suitable for children, and
the matinee performance was loaded with kids. It
was playing on a bitterly cold afternoon. Fire broke
out during a song by a double octette, "In the
Pale Moonlight." Sparks from a malfunctioning
arc-light used for the moonlight effect fell on the
frayed edge of a drop. The arc-light operator attempted to slap the flames out with his hands, but
the fire immediately got away from him and ran up
into the fly loft. The loft was hung full of canvas and gauze for Mr. Bluebeard, Jr., and once
ignited, it was only a matter of moments before it
became a roaring furnace. An employee on the
stage called the house fireman, who climbed the
tower which held the faulty arc-light, and tossed
the contents of a couple of dry-powder extinguishers at the blazing scenery. The patented fire extinguisher was useless.

Pieces of burning scenery fell to the stage.
When the audi ence saw that, they started for the
doors. Contrary to popular belief, the exits at the
Iroquois Theatre were not locked on the day of the
fire, but they were designed with a complicated
fastening mechanism, and many were frozen tight
as a result of the intense cold. Some exits were
concealed by draperies. At others, ushers had
been given no instructions to open the exit doors,
and they refused to do so. In several cases, members of the audience kicked open the tightly fastened doors in order to make their way to safety.
Most of the audience on the main floor were on
their feet, and the frightened orchestra, with an all
too clear view of the blazing fly loft, was beginning to slip away when Eddie Foy appeared on
the apron in an effort to quiet the audience.
Foy had heard the uproar in the house from his
dressing room. He saw to the safety of one of his
children who was watching the show from backstage and then rushed out to attempt to prevent a
panic. Foy called to the orchestra conductor to
strike up and spoke reassuringly to the crowd.
Many who had started to go sat back down in their
seats. At the same time, Foy yelled to the stage
manager to get the fire curtain down. The asbestos
was lowered, but it caught on a piece of lighting
equipment on the stage right side and was held
there, higher above the stage than a man could
reach. The bottom of the curtain slanted down a
bit lower on the opposite side of the proscenium
opening, but it could not be budged beyond that.
While this was going on in front of the curtain,
the large cast of Mr. Bluebeard, Jr. were trying
to escape from the inferno backstage. Someone
opened the big scenery doors at the rear of the
theatre. The effect was like opening the draft of a
furnace. Smoke and superheated gases from the
fire, unable to escape through battened-down smoke
vents above the stage, shot out from under the
asbestos in a huge fire-ball or tongue of flame
which was sucked up toward the open ventilator
over the topmost gallery seats. This happened so
quickly that Eddie Foy was still standing on stage
in front of the curtain when the ball of flame burst
out over his head. Many in the galleries were suffocated or scorched to death in their seats; others
who survived the first blast of flame were killed in
the panic which followed. The fire burned itself
out in about fifteen minutes, having done only
superficial damage to the auditorium, although
everything combustible backstage was destroyed. 26
A forgotten hero of the Iroquois fire was the boy
who operated the elevator backstage. He stayed at
his post, surrounded by flames, and succeeded in

THEATER DESIGN AND TECHNOLOGY

FEBRUARY, 1972

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