THE SWORN TESTIMONY OF THE SURVIVORS.

Scores and scores of witnesses assembled in the little committee rooms and antechambers of the council hall in the great Chicago administrative building, each with his story to add to the story of horror, when the inquest over the dead began on Thursday, January 7, 1904, one week and a day after the disaster.

Some were muffled under great rolls of bandages that concealed frightful scars and burns. Others gave no outward indication of the season of terror they had passed and survived to tell the tale. Fashionable theater goers, actors, actresses and stage hands, chorus girls, belted policemen and grim firemen, all met on terms of temporary equality, forming a heterogeneous assemblage waiting the call to take the stand. One by one they were admitted to the vast council chamber where for days the inquisition continued.

Vast throngs of curious besieged the place, clamoring for opportunity to view the proceedings. None, save the favored few citizens to whom tickets were issued, municipal, county and state officials and representatives of the press, enjoyed that opportunity. To them day after day a growing tale of suffering and death was unfolded such as has not fallen upon mortal ears for half a century. It was a harrowing recital that satiated and sickened the auditors and left them faint at each adjournment.

For days preceding the opening session Coroner Traeger his deputies and the six jurors had been engaged in a canvass of hospitals, undertaking establishments and morgues, viewing the dead. Nor was that ghastly work over when they entered upon the semi-judicial task of taking testimony. Ever and anon they halted the inquiry to proceed to the bedside of some victim that had died after lingering suffering. This formality was necessary before burial permits could issue. Each succeeding call brought to the jurors a shudder. Theirs was a gruesome task for the public service and they felt its burden keenly.

The trend of the statements taken were the same. Details formed the only variations. Some of the statements follow:

THE FIRST WITNESS.

John C. Galvin, 1677 West Monroe street, Chicago, the first witness heard, said:

"On the day the fire occurred I stepped into the vestibule to buy tickets for the following evening. It must have been a little after half past three. As I stepped into the entrance I looked into the lobby and turned to the ticket office, and as I did so the center doors of the lobby foyer and the outside entrance doors were blown open as though by a gust of hot air. I looked into the foyer and I saw people running toward the entrance. I realized at once what the trouble was, and went to the lobby doors and tried to open the west door there, that being the nearest to me. It was locked on the inside and I couldn't do anything with it.

"Then I tried to pacify the people from rushing or crowding, tried to save the panic, but it was no use. I would judge there were probably a dozen, not more than a dozen, cleared the door before the crush came. I recollect the first person to go down seemed to be a rather stout woman, who seemed to be free herself, somebody stepping on her skirt. She turned to gather up her skirts and she was borne down by the crowd, and then they piled on top of each other. I did what I could to release the jam, pulling the people from under the crowd and getting them out into the entrance, out into the street, but all the while the vestibule was filling up by those returning to help their friends, and people rushing into the street and helping to bring the crowd to. I tried to open the outside entrance door, the west door, which I found was bolted on the inside at that time. I tried to lift the bolt, but I couldn't do that.

"Then I kicked out two of the panels. I kicked the glass out of the panels, and I then returned to the west vestibule door and I kicked out the panels of these two doors, that is, the west door, and tried to take some of the people out through the openings. After we got out of the doorway I walked back into the entrance gallery and walked around, and there was a dense smoke coming from the theater.

"I was expecting a big crush in the vestibule, a much larger crush than I saw. I thought there would be a jam on that stair, but nobody came down the stairs to my recollection, not a soul. They never lived to reach it. All the time I was there I saw no one whose dress or demeanor would indicate they were policemen, firemen or attaches of the theater. I remained doing what I could to relieve the situation until driven out by the smoke. I then went across the street and watched the destruction of the theater."

MARLOWE'S EXPERIENCE.

James C. McGurn, 2 Rosemont street, Dorchester, Mass., known on the stage as James C. Marlowe:

"I was in the Garrick theater, a block distant, to see the show. At the first alarm I hurried out and went down to the Iroquois theater entrance. I went inside and the firemen were in working at the time, getting lines of hose in there. Some of the firemen were already pouring streams through into the lobby. There was a tremendous draft there and the lobby was clear, but directly inside the door that had been opened there were dense volumes of smoke. The first thought that struck my mind, being conversant with theaters, was that there might be somebody in the house. Just then a man came in there, followed by another man, a citizen, and we were the only men in the lobby outside of the firemen. He asked for the gallery stairway and immediately after that I saw him going up the stairs to the right as you go in the lobby. He went up these stairs with his men and a fireman followed him.

"I was watching the stairs, and they were up there thirty seconds, about, when the fireman came down with the first body, a little girl, about eight years old. He shouted out to the firemen for God's sake to get up there, and all the firemen I saw in the lobby dropped everything and went up, and they weren't up there but a few seconds before they came tumbling down with bodies, and after I had remained there about three minutes more I saw dozens of bodies brought down. One fireman slipped with the body of an old lady about the fourth step and fell down on the marble floor and I helped put her into the fireman's arms. The smoke was so dense I could not see much and as I could do nothing to help any one I hurried out of the foyer."

MUSICAL DIRECTOR'S SWORN STATEMENT.

Antonio Frosolono, 170 Seminary avenue, Chicago, musical director at the ill-fated theater:

"I was in the Iroquois theater playing at that performance in the orchestra. I was not directing the performance, as the company has its own director. I was sitting sideways, facing the east door of the stage. The stage was to my left. I do not know how the fire started, only I heard a confusion.

"The 'Pale Moonlight' scene was on and sixteen people, the double octette, occupied the stage. Some of them did not sing, and some of them went out of their places. Eddie Foy came out and announced that if everybody would keep quiet everything would be all right. Then, when I turned around, the stage fireman had kicked a piece of blazing curtain down in the orchestra.

"Then the bassoon player made a terrible scramble to get out, and I think he succeeded in getting out. Then after that Mr. Dolere, the musical director for the company, went out like a shot out of a gun; he went over the stand and everything. He went under the stage. Then everybody else got out. I still sat there, because I did not see much danger to myself, as I thought, or anybody else. I saw the people when they went out, and I heard the cries, and that is what attracted my attention. I stayed there until everybody else had gone out of the orchestra. The time when I thought it was time to get out was when the bass fiddle and the 'cello got to burning.

"All were excited on the stage. Some tried to put the fire out and others ran. Some one was trying to lower the curtain, but it would not come down all the way. Of a sudden it bulged out over my head like a balloon. Then the flames began to rush out from under the curtain. I saw the people rushing out, some jumping over, hallooing and screaming; then I turned around at that instant to my right and saw that the violin and 'cello and bass fiddle had caught on fire at one of the music stands, and then I went out."

MRS. PETRY'S ESCAPE.

Mrs. Josephine Petry, 6014 Morgan street:

"On Wednesday afternoon at 2:15 I went to the Iroquois theater. It was late; the performance had begun. My ticket entitled me to what I thought was the balcony, but it was at the top of the house, and when I went up there the theater was dark and the people were standing four deep behind my seat.

"It was the second act, the moonlight octette, if I am not mistaken, when I saw on the left hand side behind the proscenium arch a bright light. I kept my eyes on that, because to me it did not look right, and it got brighter all the time. Eddie Foy came right beside the proscenium arch, right where the fire was on the side, over him, and told the people they should keep their seats, there was no danger. Naturally a few got up, but they sat down again. Some people said: 'Keep your seats.' I got up and some one said beside me: 'Sit down, there is nothing the matter.' I sat down again, but the glare was getting much brighter and pieces of charred cloth were falling down, although the flames by then had not come forward. They were all behind, but you could see the light so brightly I picked up my wraps and went out.

"I went out by the same way I entered. At the lower floor about a hundred people were trying to get out. The doors were locked. When I left the charred remnants of the scenery were falling down in large chunks onto the stage, and the lights were so bright that they scared me, and I got up, but the flames had not reached the stage yet when I left, but when I got down to the exit and I turned my head there was a mass of flames behind; it was all flames, and yet I did not hear a sound."

UP AGAINST LOCKED DOORS.

Ebson Ryburn, stock broker, 3449 Prairie avenue, Chicago:

"I was at the box office with the intention of purchasing tickets for the night; I went to the box office about 3:30 p. m., and when I went in there were three or four others ahead of me. Suddenly I heard some commotion on the inside and several persons rushed out, and there must have been as many as five or six, I guess, got out, and then I heard a woman cry 'Fire.' Up to that time I did not think it was anything serious. I thought probably it was a scare and I looked in through the door and I saw more coming—rushing—and I rushed over to hold the doors open, and did so for a length of time until quite a number got out, and I noticed several going to the door next to it; that is, the last door west; and then came over to this other door.

"They tried to push it open. I left where I was and went to that door and tried to force it open and could not. I saw between the two doors a bolt or a bar, and there was quite a number coming out the other door then and I saw there was no chance to come out, and I tried to open the other door opposite that leading into the street, and that door was in the same condition, locked or bolted; it was fastened; I could not get out of that door and I could not get in the other. Then there were quite a number coming out, and I noticed several men, and by that time I could see smoke, a little haze of smoke, and every one coming out seemed to be frightened, crazy-like, and so I got out myself into the street. The fire department had not yet arrived."

BLOWN INTO THE ALLEY.

Mrs. James D. Pinedo, 478 North Hoyne avenue, Chicago:

"I reached the theater to attend the fatal matinee late, about 2:25 o'clock. The performance was in progress and we could not secure seats, so we got standing room tickets and entered. When I reached the extreme right of the theater the people were only standing one deep. There was a space there where I could see the stage, especially the left part of the stage where the sparks started, and the curtain had just rung up for the second act, a few minutes after the chorus was singing, when I saw a man using his hands trying to put out the sparks. When I saw those few sparks I quietly turned around to see if there was any fire escape or exit on that floor in case there should be a fire, and I didn't move because I was afraid of precipitating a panic. I simply turned my head and I saw what I supposed was an exit. I couldn't tell.

"I saw drapery and naturally supposed, being a theater-goer, that it masked an exit. I turned back to the stage then, and in the meantime these sparks had changed into flames, and I put on my rubbers—I was very calm at the time—and I got ready to move out. Eddie Foy told us to be perfectly quiet and avoid a panic, and there were also some men and women in the back part of the audience who also told the people to sit down. I have never seen an audience who were saner than these women and children. They sat perfectly still I should say for at least two minutes, while those sparks changed into flames. They were perfectly calm. I think most of these women realized there were little children there. The audience was nearly packed full of children.

"Then I saw the big ball of flame come out from the stage and fall in the auditorium of the theater on the heads of those in front, and I thought, 'Now is the time to get out.' I walked quietly to what I thought was an exit, and there was a little man there before me, who had torn aside the drapery, and I saw an iron door or doors heavily bolted, and we couldn't get them open. It was bolted and I heard this man ask the usher to please unlock the door, and he refused. The usher was standing there and we were frantically, of course, trying to get the door open, but it would not open, and I judge we were standing at least two minutes, probably a minute and a half—time that seemed long enough in a case like that.

"Finally the man induced this usher to try and open the door. At least they were trying to, the two of them, and I was right behind them—trying to open that door—when all of a sudden there was a rush of wind. I thought at the time it was an explosion, because I didn't know of any force powerful enough to open those iron doors, and those iron doors blew open, and blew us into the alley. Of course that is my last recollection. I was then safe."

JUST OUT IN TIME.

Ella M. Churcher, 850 Washington boulevard, Chicago:

"I occupied the fourth row from the front in the top gallery, seats 42, 43 and 44, with my mother and nephew. I was sitting in the middle. A shower of sparks was the first suggestion of fire. Then the curtain was lowered and Eddie Foy stepped out. I couldn't hear his words, but his motions were to sit down and keep our seats, and we did so until I saw the red curtain that went down after the first act give away in the upper left hand corner and pieces fell, making a large opening. It was on fire.

"Then we got up and had to go about ten feet, that took us to the wall, and three steps to go up to the exit leading to the marble stairway. As we turned the last look I caught was a tongue of fire leaping to the gallery and a cloud of smoke with it, and we got the heat from it, scorching and blistering both of my ears and both my nostrils and scorching my hair and chiffon boa on my neck. At that instant we stepped out on the marble stairway, right out of it, and we got down stairs safely, and then we passed out to the street."

SPORTING MEN TESTIFY.

Frank Houseman, 293 Warren avenue, Chicago:

"Dexter, the baseball player, and I dropped into the Iroquois that afternoon about 2:20 and found the house sold out with the exception of two boxes and standing room. We bought a couple of seats in an upper box and went in. The house was crowded and it was dark, for the performance was in progress. We found an usher and started up the stairway to the box. The stairway was pitch dark.

"'This is a dark stairway; this is funny they don't have a light or something here,' I said to my friend. I stumbled a couple of times going up the stairway. Finally we got to where we were seated. Well, during the intermission between the first and second acts we had a good view of the audience, being up high, and I remarked to my friend that there were a great many women and children present in event of any trouble.

"When the curtain rose for the second act, if I can remember, probably five or ten minutes after, I noticed a spark directly on the opposite side to the stage in behind. We were sitting up where we viewed the audience and it was very easy for us to distinguish the spark, and I saw a man—it looked as though he was on a pedestal of some kind; it must have been a bridge of some kind that he was standing on—working to put out the light, so I quietly said to my friend: 'Do you see those sparks over there?' He says: 'Yes; they will put that out all right.'

"Well, I instantly thought about the stairway that I had to come up getting into this box, and somehow or other I could not get it out of my mind. I said: 'Well, now, I don't know; we better get down near the door—it looks pretty good—the outside.' So we finally started, and as we started out of the box I suggested that he tell the gentleman and lady that were in the box with us that they had better come on, which I understand he did. He came down the stairs.

"It was a blast of flame or fire, a sort of ball or something that appeared to me like it was a lot of scenery that was burning down, scenery or flimsy work. It burnt a great deal on the order of paper. All I thought of was the opening of that door, because the people at that time were crowding close to me and screaming and hallooing, and I don't just remember just how I got that door open, but anyway it opened and carried the crowd out. I tried to do what I could around there for the people that were being trampled on, trying to pull them out from the middle of the alley and start them on their way if they were not too badly hurt, until they began jumping off the fire escapes above, and I noticed and looked up and saw that the people were not moving.

"The flames by that time had come out of the top exits that were open, and the fire escape held all the people it could and the flames were surrounding them, and they were jumping, and those that were not pushed off jumped off. I was trying to get the people on the lower fire escape, which—I can guess at it—was probably ten or fifteen feet from the ground. We got a couple of them to jump down because it was but a little ways up; they began jumping right from overhead and of course I had to look out that no one fell on me, or would jump on me, and I could not do very much of anything, only to pull out the people being trampled upon, and pull them to one side, until one man jumped on, I think, three bodies, and started to get up and go away, and was just about in a rising position when there was a lady fell on him, and he didn't move after that. It became so dangerous then that I had to get away.

"My intentions were to go around and out the same way I got in, or to get near the door, because I remarked to him when I got down stairs: 'We may have to help some of these little children here in case they don't put this out,' although I thought they would put it out. Well, there were three or four people standing along there, and when we reached the main floor just about that time the audience began to notice there was a fire.

"Previous to this time they had not seen it and they began to mumble and some of them to rise, and Mr. Foy came out and tried to quiet them by stating that it was merely a little curtain fire; that they would put it out, and to be as quiet as possible. It seemed to relieve them. A great many of them returned to their seats. I thought I could hear Mr. Foy speak to some one back in the scenery as though he was waiting for the drop curtain.

"Well, it began to look pretty bad about that time and I looked around and I saw the curtains, the first I had noticed of the exits there. I said to some one standing there, 'Where does this lead?' He says, 'Outside;' so I stayed there probably thirty seconds, when the bits of scenery and pieces of fire began to drop down all around the stage, and one or two of the girls that were on the stage at the time of the octette, fainted; well, I pushed this fellow aside, and for a moment—momentarily—looked at the lock, and it happened to be a lever that lifts up.

"I am familiar with it, as I have one in my home, and I didn't have much trouble with it, but I was kind of disappointed when I opened it, because I thought it would lead outside—when I faced the iron doors. At that time there was a big blast came out from the stage."

Charles Dexter, professional baseball player:

"I met Mr. Houseman and he invited me to go to the theater with him, and we went together and we were a little bit late. We got seats in an upper box.

"The house was quite dark when we went in, and we were ushered into the right hand box, that is, to the right of the stage; I guess that is the north box, and we got to see about the last part of the first act, and just about two minutes after we came in a lady and gentleman came in and we gave them our seats; they sat directly in front of us; I took the back seat, and just as the moonlight scene came on, the octette, Mr. Houseman turned to me and said: 'Do you see that little blaze?' And I told him I did.

"He said: 'I think it is about time for us to get out of here.' I told him I thought everything would be all right; that he had better not start down stairs or say anything that would be liable to cause a panic, and he said he would go down quietly, and for me to tell the people ahead of me what to do. The stairway was so dark I tried to follow out.

"I knew he had started down the steps, and I had to wait and light a match to tell where I was going down the steps, from the box down to the first floor. I lost Mr. Houseman then; I looked for him but could not find him, and I walked around and stood very near the first box. By that time the blaze had gone up.

"Mr. Foy was on the stage telling the people to be quiet or pass out quietly. I couldn't tell exactly what he said, and I noticed the orchestra seemed inclined to leave, and I could hear him yelling to the leader to play, which he did."They played for quite a little while; then the fire commenced dropping all around Mr. Foy, and I thought that I would get out, go out from the front door; I didn't know any other means of exit, and I started out that way. By that time the people had started out of their seats and I found that I could not get out that way very well. I thought that the best thing that I could do would be to come back and jump on the stage, hoping to get out the stage door. People were running around, and I didn't know what to do, and I ran into a crowd of little children.

"The people were running over one another. I saw some draperies hanging and I opened them. I didn't know where I was going, and I found two doors of glass or wood. I didn't stop to examine them but I opened them. I found myself up against some iron doors. I didn't know how to work them. The only thing I could see was a cross-bar, and I started to shove that up, and I couldn't shove very well, and I started to beat at it. By that time the people were pushed up against me, and I didn't know whether I would be able to get it open or not. I had all the poor little kids around me, and I beat the thing until finally it went up, and as it did of course the people behind me—we went out into the alley.

"I turned and looked back and saw a wave of fire sweeping over the whole inside of the theater."

AN ELGIN PHYSICIAN'S TALE.

"Dr. De Lester Sackett, Elgin, III.:

"I attended the fateful matinee performance, accompanied by my wife, my sister-in-law and my little girl. We occupied seats in the third row of the first balcony at the extreme north end of the theater, next to the alley. At the time the fire broke out we were sitting where we could look right over to the extreme left of the stage, and what seemed to be a couple of limes, or an electric light; we could see sparks dropping from that sometimes. We could not see the light itself, but could see those sparks, evidently dropping from that kind of a light.

"That was my first impression upon seeing it. And instantly there was more or less excitement, and the party who played the part of "Bluebeard" came to the extreme front of the stage at our extreme left and tried to allay the excitement by making motions with his hands, keeping the orchestra playing and the girls dancing, at the same time trying to get the audience to keep quiet. He said that there was danger from excitement, but not much danger from the fire.

"There was much excitement in the immediate vicinity of my seats, with no gentlemen nearer than the three gentlemen sitting a little further to my right and back in the second section from us towards the rear were two young men; all others were women and children. There seemed to be perfect confusion and I rose to my feet and tried to quiet them, and counseled that they should not become excited; that there was more danger from a panic than there was from the fire. I never dreamed that the fire could reach us there, and we had to keep our positions in our seats, as I had counseled others to keep quiet, and it would not look very well for us to take the lead then and run, so we remained there until my wife said to me, 'Every one has left their seats, and we must get out of here.'

"I then turned and looked at the stage and saw how the fire had progressed and said to her: 'It is a race with death,' and I tried then to get my little girl, who was eleven years old, next to me. She was sitting next to the aisle. I reached beyond my wife and sister-in-law and I got my little girl and then I tried to crowd them into the aisle.

"The pressure was so great I could not get them into the aisle. People crowded up the aisle so thick I could not get them in there, and I discovered the seats in our rear had been vacated. Everybody was getting to the aisle, and I told my wife our only show was over these seats, and I took my little girl and started and told them to follow me, which they did. At that time in the extreme left-hand corner back of us we could see light coming up—they had got an opening there in the rear of this balcony.

"We couldn't see any opening, but we could see the light from the opening, and then we went over the seats. I didn't look back after I started. My wife and sister-in-law followed us, and we went over the seats and out of that rear exit back of the seats to the extreme north into the alley, where we found a fire escape.

"The doors were open when we got there, but I cannot help but feel that if we had started sooner we would not have got to those doors. If we had waited longer we certainly would not have got through. My ears are still not healed from the burning they got. My nose was burned, and my sister-in-law's bandages have not been removed from her face yet, she was burned so bad, and it was all from hot air coming from that stage.

"On the first landing from the exit we went out of, evidently two ladies had turned and were coming up the fire escape, instead of going the other way, they were so confused. I told them to turn and go down. They did not until I reached them and I took hold of one lady and turned her around and started her down and pushed the shutter back against the wall—I remember that very distinctly—and then we went on down and when I got to the foot of the escape I turned my child over to my wife and went back for my sister-in-law and crowded my way up between the people by keeping to the extreme outside railing, and got up probably to the first landing and found her coming down.

"It is my impression that the curtain that was lowered was burned. I know that when the party playing the part of "Bluebeard" was out there he kept those girls dancing until one of them fainted, and they lifted her up, and I thought it was the most heroic thing I ever saw, those girls remaining there with the fire dropping all about them and still dancing in an effort to quiet the audience. The draft was something fearful. It carried the fire with it. The flames came clear out over the parquet, and so much so that after I started up those steps we didn't dare to look back."

MR. MEMHARD'S DIFFICULT EXIT.

Albert A. Memhard, 750 Greenleaf avenue, Rogers Park, Chicago:

"I attended the matinee performance at the Iroquois, December 30, 1903. I was sitting in section A, the tenth seat in the first row in the first balcony or dress circle on the north side of the house, and on the right hand with reference to the stage. I was between two aisles just about the middle of the section. I was there before the orchestra started to play and saw the curtain go up before the first act and the same curtain come down and then be raised before the second act. I was in company with a theater party made up of Mr. Gurnsey, who is employed at the same store as myself, and our families. Soon after the second act started we saw, almost all of us at about the same time, sparks of fire coming from the left hand corner of the stage, perhaps eight feet from the top, but we sat still until it began to come out in flames, the flames dropping on the stage. Then we started out.

"I could not open the first exit door I reached. I then went to the second exit and after some trouble I got it open by lifting up a brass lever. Then the inside doors opened, which were wood and glass. I had the iron doors to open next. I opened them by lifting a long bar. I went out on the fire escape with my friends, who were with me with the exception of my son, who had gone ahead, following the crowd. When I saw he was not with us I went back and ran almost to the top of the stairs. I brought him back. We went down the fire escape and out the alley to Dearborn street.

"The fire exits were all covered by heavy draperies that might readily be mistaken for simple decorations and were not marked or labeled in any way. Neither was there any one on hand to direct the crowd how to get out. The only light was the illumination afforded by the fire."

THE THEATER ENGINEER.

Robert E. Murray, 676 Jackson boulevard, Chicago, engineer at the Iroquois theater:

"I was down stairs underneath the stage when I heard some confusion about 3:30 o'clock. I rushed upstairs onto the stage and the first person I saw was the house fireman. He had some kilfyre and was trying to sprinkle it on the fire. I saw the curtain down about ten feet from the stage and I tried to jump up and grab it to pull it down, but it was out of my reach. By that time there was fire coming down so I had to get away from there. I went to the elevator and saw that the boy was making trips and bringing people down as fast as he could. When I saw he was doing his duty I went downstairs and told my fireman to shut off steam in the house and pull the fires, so as to prevent the possibility of an explosion.

RUSH OF CHORUS GIRLS.

"Then some of the musicians and chorus girls came rushing through and they wanted to know which way out. There was a door in the smoking room in the basement and I opened it for them. Some went out that way. The smoke was so thick that some of them ran back. I took them to the coal hole and shoved them out of the coal hole. The smoke was getting so thick in there we could hardly stand it, so I told the fireman to take our clothes and go to the coal hole and get out. I stayed there and shut the steam off in the boilers, and was trying to get the fire out to save any boiler explosion if the fire should get too hot.

"After I thought everybody was out of there I made a trip around the dressing rooms in the basement and hallooed, 'Everybody out down here.' Then I met a girl by the name of Nellie Reed. She was up against the wall scratching it and screaming. I grabbed her and went out with her to the street. I went back to the boiler. My toolbox was there, and I grabbed the toolbox and jerked it back on the coal pile and then I crawled out of the coal hole myself into the fresh air."

A SCHOOL GIRL'S ACCOUNT.

Ruth Michel, school girl, 698 North Robey street, Chicago:

"I was sitting in the top balcony in the second row near the north or alley wall when the fire broke out. There were four in our party, all girls, and we reached our seats about five minutes before the performance began. The curtain went up for the second act and there was, I think, about twelve actresses on the stage. There was a green light thrown over the stage, to represent the moonlight, a greenish blue. I saw a man at the side of the stage making motions with his hands; I didn't know whether he was coming in at the wrong time or not, and then I saw a spark come from above the stage. Then a spark fell down, and one of the women in our party said, 'We will get out of here,' and a man rose and said he would knock our heads off if we got out, so we sat there. Then they tried to drop a curtain and it didn't come down very far.

"Then they dropped another curtain. It came down beyond the one that got stuck, came down all the way, I think. That one caught fire right away, even before it reached the stage. Then an awful draft came and it blew the flames right out over the audience. We got out of our seats, got out of an exit all right and went out on the fire escape. I got down two or three steps and we were driven back by the flames below us. The heat came up just like a furnace and I went up two or three steps and then I got under the railing and dropped to the alley. I lit on my toes and a man caught me at the same time, so I was not hurt. The distance was the same as from the fourth story window of the building across the alley. Men in the alley called to me not to jump, but I knew I had to jump or else burn up, because the flames were coming up so right behind me."

"I am only surprised that you escaped alive to tell of it," softly commented the coroner.