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For Bernard Boecker the Iroquois fire was Act III
Like most patrons seated on the ground floor at the Iroquois,
sixty-three-year-old Bernard B. Boecker survived the
1903 theater fire. He was unique, however, in how
long he chose to remain in the theater after the
fire started.
Seated five rows from the
back of the auditorium, Boecker was far enough from
the stage to escape injury in the initial phase of
the fire. Having seemingly attended the theater
alone (nothing was reported about companions), he
did not have loved ones to protect. So he stayed and
watched. His observations were those of a man who
had spent his life overseeing processes in a variety
of manufacturing and agricultural operations and who
had been an assistant fire marshal in his hometown.
His description of the experience, prepared a week
after the fire for his local newspaper, the
Naperville Clarion, was more concise than many.
At first sight of a flame
Boecker, like others, thought it was a lighting
effect intended to look like the moon or sun. That
was a logical possibility. The stage was darkened to
produce a romantic garden scene under the moonlight.
Either an enlarged moon or rising sun could have
been in context with the storyline.
When he saw dancers turn to look up at the top of
the proscenium arch, he knew it was instead a fire.
Bernard remained in his seat to watch
Eddie Foy (and three to four others*) try to
calm the audience. He remained in his seat while
stage workers attempted to lower the asbestos
curtain. He even watched the fireball shoot out into
the auditorium, burning seats twenty feet away from
his, and saw the asbestos curtain disintegrate into
"hundreds of flaming balls the size of a boy's
head.
Fireball trajectory
Boecker's description of the fireball's trajectory
through the auditorium supports the conclusion drawn later by fire experts.
The fireball surged through the gap below the north
side of the lopsided fire curtain, then was drawn up
and back to the two balconies by vents in the back
wall and open exits on both sidewalls. Before arcing
upward, however, it ignited string instruments in
the orchestra pit and seats in the first ten to
twenty rows.
Time to move along
When the fire curtain burned, Boecker decided he'd seen enough. He noted a
crowd waiting to exit the auditorium into the lobby
and chose a north wall fire escape exit instead. He
had no difficulty getting out into Couch Place alley
but, once there, stumbled to his knees. He was
shocked to realize he'd tripped over and fallen upon
bodies.
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As he tried to stand
without treading on people, Bernard was knocked on
the head and flattened by a man who had jumped from
a fire escape twenty feet above. As other
jumpers landed, fearing for his life, Boecker wiggled out from under bodies
and escaped from the alley. Other witnesses to
the Couch Place scene described jumpers surviving
because they fell on a cushion of bodies.
Bernard Boecker was one of the cushion providers who
survived to tell the tale. Once safe, he
looked back at a scene of screaming and horrified
people on the fire escape stairs, and motionless
forms on the ground.
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Bernard Berthold Boecker (1840–1907)
A German immigrant, Bernard B. Boecker came to
the United States in 1860. After working
for a few years as a farm laborer, he
returned to Germany to marry a French
girl, Anna Ohn (1847–1886) and brought
his bride back to Naperville, Illinois.
About thirty miles southwest of Chicago,
Naperville in 1903 was home to around
3,000 people. Bernard was a VIP in that
small pond, elected as mayor and
alderman, also serving as assistant fire
marshal, and in 1890 president of the
Naperville Loan and Building
Association.
Bernard and Anna had three children.
Their youngest, Arnold, died in a
terrifying buggy accident at the
family's quarry. (See accompanying news
clippings)
At Anna's death, Bernard married Emily
Hammerschmidt, a union that produced
four children, all of whom lived to old
age. Emily's uncle and cousin, Ernst von
Oven, and Frederick von Oven, operated a
tile and brickyard company and nursery
that were important in Naperville's
early economic history.
Over the years, Bernard sold his farm
and operated a lumber and hay press
business. (A hay press was a machine
used to convert hay purchased from
farmers into bales that could be
transported to market.) He later sold
grain and coal, then in 1884 went into
the stone quarrying business with Ernst
von Oven, operating the "Little Quarry"
(known in more recent decades as
Netzley's Pond). His son Arnold's death
at the quarry in 1896, together with
increasing market competition,
contributed to Bernard's decision to
lease the quarry in 1904 to his
competitor, Dolese & Shepard. D & S
operated the larger quarry in
Naperville, later known as Centennial
Beach.
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