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Minutes before the fire started
that would become America's worst
theater disaster, the scene at the Iroquois Theater was
over-the-top with festivity and good
spirits. The audience was filled with excited children,
teachers and families making the most of
the few days before they had to go back
to school and work.
Aerial ballet dancers sailed through the
air, thousands of lights flashed on the
stage, and it was hard to keep track of
all the exotic costumes, dancers,
musicians and vocalists. Mr.
Bluebeard was truely the
extravaganza promised by newspapers.
Between acts I and II, long-time theater men
William A. Brady (1863–1950) and
Harry Powers (1859–1941), enjoyed
a bit of verbal jousting about the size of
their respective audiences and jovially
accepted holiday greetings from the stage
by Chicago-favorite,
Eddie Foy.
New York-based Brady was a theatrical
producer with a show nearby at Chicago's Garrick
Theater. Harry Powers was co-owner of two
Chicago houses, the Iroquois and Powers Theaters.*
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William Brady was at the Garrick that day to see if his most
recent production was better received in Chicago
than it had been on Broadway. Despite having
been based on the year's third best-selling novel,
The Pit had closed in New York after only 77
weeks. Brady hoped theater attendance would be buoyed
by local interest in Frank Norris Jr's story about the wheat
market and Chicago's Board of Trade. As Brady left the Iroquois auditorium,
audience members chuckled when
comedian Eddie Foy called from the stage to wish him
a happy new year. To Chicago theater goers, Foy was
a local boy who made good and didn't forget his roots.
Minutes later as Brady walked along Randolph St., he was passed by a
man shouting that the Iroquois Theater was on fire.
Disbelieving, Brady headed back to the Iroquois
and found people running from the theater.
He hurried to the Garrick.
Envisioning a stampede if someone shouted out
about the Iroquois fire, he gave instructions to Garrick employees and
cast. They were told to prevent audience
members from leaving or reentering the auditorium
and comedian
Wilton Lackaye was directed to perform comic speeches.
The goal was to keep the audience in their seats between acts so they
did not learn of fire at the Iroquois Theater.
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Unbeknownst to Garrick's switchboard lighting engineer
Thomas J. Cleland, his wife was in mortal danger.
As a restroom matron at the Iroquois
Elizbeth Cleland was lucky to escape.
She survived and continued working for Will
J. Davis at the Illinois Theater.
Thomas Cleland had trained
William McMullen on operating a stage switchboard
before McMullen moved on to the Illinois Theater
then
the Iroquois where he operated the lamp that started
the fire.
At 64 W. Randolph St., the Garrick was located in the
Schiller building, an 1892 Adler & Sullivan design
(razed in 1961). The 1,300-seat theater was designed
to accommodate a permanent performance
group, the German Opera Company; that
initial association ended in the late 1890's and the
theater became, like the Iroquois, a house that
hosted traveling shows.
The Garrick Theater had several names over the years.
From 1898 to earlier in 1903 it was called the Dearborn
Theater. It was the theater where, in the view of
Iroquois managers Davis and Powers, one year of part
time employment as an usher qualified
George Dusenberry
to supervise a dozen teen ushers at the Iroquois.
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Discrepancies and addendum
* Earlier in the day Powers and Brady had likely paid their respects at
the funeral home for comedian
Jerome Sykes.
As the pair admired the
full house at the Iroquois, the theater's
manager,
Will J. Davis, was at Sykes
funeral, his relationship with Sykes having
been a long one. As a member of the
Bostonians, Davis' wife, Jessie Bartlett
Davis, had performed with Sykes in many
productions.
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