AWFUL PROPHECY FULFILLED.

More than a quarter of a century ago the prophecy was made by the Chicago Times that a terrible calamity was in store for the public on account of the lax provision made for escape from burning theaters. The prophecy was put forth in the guise of a pretended report of such a horror in the issue of that publication for February 13, 1875, and was as follows:

"Scores of houses are saddened this beautiful winter morning by the fate which overtook so many unsuspecting people in Chicago last night. The hearts of thousands will be stirred to their depths with sympathy for the unfortunates. It was a catastrophe awful in its results, yet grand in its horror. Nothing has equaled it for years; it is to be hoped that its counterpart will never be known.

"There are smoking ruins down in the heart of the city—ruins of one of the finest theaters in Chicago, which fell a prey to the devouring element last night. There are mourning households and rows of dead bodies at the morgue. There will be anxious inquiries on the lips of many persons with whom one will meet manifesting an eagerness to know whether friends were swallowed up in the flames or made good their escape.

"While it cannot be said that the catastrophe was entirely unexpected, yet it came so suddenly and so little had been done to obviate it, that its results are fearful to contemplate. For months the frequenters of the various places of amusement in Chicago had often questioned themselves whether there would not come the day when in some of these buildings grisly death would stalk forth, like a thief in the night, and lay his cold hands upon the unsuspecting throng; at last the terrible moment and the horrible reality dawned.

"With all her experience in conflagrations and attendant horrors, Chicago has nothing to compare with this catastrophe. Even the fire of 1871, which swept over a vast extent of country and reduced proud and formidable looking buildings and scattered their strength to the winds, lacked the comparative loss of life which this one disaster has entailed. Property may be dissipated, but it can be recovered once more.

"Death robs us forever of our dear ones, and leaves a void which time can never fully fill.

MOURNING AND INDIGNATION.

"As we tread today upon the very heels of this latest sad event and take a comprehensive view of its details and results, no one, not even though he have no personal interest in the loss entailed, can help joining in the expression of mourning which will go up, and at the same time give vent to the already too long-suppressed feelings of indignation, which have from time to time arisen when thinking of the flimsy manner in which theaters are built, their lack of protection against fire and the inadequate means afforded inmates to escape therefrom in the event of an undue excitement that should spread a panic, ere the breaking out of a fire.

"The sympathy for the dead will be equally balanced by vigorous denunciation of the criminality of everybody who, in an official or proprietary capacity, is interested therein.

NOTHING ELSE SO HORRIBLE.

"In the history of the country there are few events that can match this one. The burning of the Richmond theater, the falling of the Pemberton mill, the burning of the cotton mill at Fall River, the breaking loose of the Haydenville mill pond, with now and then of late years the engulfing of some steamer on inland lakes or the ocean, have for the time cast a great pall of mourning over the land, but they only stand in the same category with this last disaster, and can hardly rival it in swiftness of culmination or suddenness of origin.

"For the time being this will furnish the chief topic for conversation, and if the Times mistakes not, it will as well arouse the public to a complete realization of the unsafeness of theaters in general, and have the beneficial effect even in its tragic nature of moving the people to insist upon the adoption of a certain amount of safeguards against a like event in the future. The time to move in this matter is at this critical juncture, even while the charred remains of the

UNFORTUNATE VICTIMS

are lying stark upon their biers and friends are stabbed with the grief of the untimely taking off of their friends.

"In the excitement of this hour it is no time to deal in sentimental reflections. The scenes of the past night are too fresh to warrant lengthy dwelling upon the morale of the occurrence. It is sufficient that it is distinctly understood that the catastrophe was more the result of insufficient means of egress from the theater than was the primary cause of the development of the fire, although the latter, aided by the first and helped on by the panic stricken people, who from the outset appreciated the terrible position in which they were placed, augmented to a large degree the number of deaths.

"Chicago theaters as a general thing are tinder boxes into which humanity are packed by avaricious managers without any regard to their safety or thought of the imminent risk which is nightly impending. Evidently their only desire is to fill the house, gather in as much money as possible, while they take no heed to the dangers which surround their patrons on every hand.

"The lesson had to be taught some time, it was inevitable; it had to be located at some one of the places of amusement, although all of them were—and those remaining are still—liable to share the same fate at any moment. If the experience of one should teach the others a little wisdom, the existing evil may perhaps be remedied, although it shall have been at the sacrifice of human life.

FIRE! FIRE!

"The gallery was overflowing and the gate that opened to the stairway which led to the floor below, as usual, was locked, so that those who bought cheap tickets could not make their way to higher-priced sections on the lower floor. In the uppermost gallery—where the 'gods' are supposed to assemble, and from which comes much of the inspiration which upholds the ambitious actor and transports the ranting comedian and raging tragedian to the seventh heaven of bliss—in this gallery there was a motley crowd.

"They were there in large numbers, because the play had something that savored of blood; there was a broadsword combat and a murder scene. For reasons the very antitheses of these were the people downstairs drawn thither—there were love scenes and heart-burnings and statuesque posings, and artistic excellencies of varied kinds. It was a play that touched the feelings of humanity, the vulgar as well as the refined.

BEFORE THE DISASTER.

"The auditorium was ablaze with light, the audience were lit up with gaiety. Handsome women, richly clad, ogled one another and cast coquettish glances at dashing gentlemen. Fond mothers, chaperoning blooming daughters, chatted pleasantly, while indulgent fathers, although seeking relief from the cares of the day in the charming play, found neighbors near at hand with whom to discuss sordid business or perplexing politics.

THE HOLOCAUST.

"As has been stated, the house was filled with spectators. When the premonition of the impending disaster had been given out, and after the first great thrill of horror had, for the instant, frozen the blood of every spectator and caused an involuntary check to every heart, there came quickly the manifestation of a determination to 'do or die,' to escape from the angry flames if possible. And with this determination came the positive assurance of the growing calamity, through the person of one of the actors, who but a short time previous had been playing the buffoon, setting staid people agape with amusement and turning dull care into festivity. Hastily drawing the foot of the curtain back from the proscenium pillars, he thrust his blanched countenance into view and screamed with terrified voice:

"'Hurry to the door for your lives; the stage is afire!'

THE STAMPEDE BEGINS.

"It hardly needed these words of warning to perfect the demoralization which had seized upon the terrified crowd. The stampede had already commenced; the work of death had been inaugurated.

"Those who escaped, and with whom the Times reporter had the good fortune to talk, on last evening, say that the detail of the horrors of that scene would defy description. One or two of these informants were so far down in the dress circle that they saw the whole of the catastrophe and measured its horrible magnitude as best they could under the excitement that prevailed. How they escaped is more than they could tell, but they found themselves borne along, lifted and pushed forward till the door was reached, and the outside and safety gained. They describe the scene inside the theater as

ONE OF STUPENDOUS HORRORS.

"The affrighted audience, rising from their seats, began simultaneously to attempt to reach the means of egress. Timid females raised their hands to heaven, shrieked wild, despairing cries and fell to be trampled into eternity by the heels of the wild rushing throng. Mothers pleaded piteously in the tumult and the roar that their darling daughters might be spared, while they themselves were resigned to the fate which was inevitable. Stout men with muscles of iron and cheeks blanched with terror clasped wives and sweethearts to their breasts and

CURSED AND BLASPHEMED,

and piteously prayed—the one that their progress was impeded, the other to those who, like them, prayed for a safe deliverance, but who were unable to afford the slightest assistance.

"Meanwhile the flames had eaten their way to the front, and with one fell swoop licked up the combustible drop curtain, spread themselves across the proscenium and were working up towards the ceiling. Reaching this point the destroying element seemed to pause a moment as though pitying the position of the puny individuals who were fleeing its approach, and then remorselessly swept down in forked fury and pierced venom. The terror-stricken crowd felt the hot breath of the monster and surged and swayed and tried to escape its fury.

DEAD BODIES FOUND.

"The corpses recovered were, as has been before stated, taken to the street, removed two blocks away from the scene of the disaster, and, for the time being, laid out upon the pavement, awaiting the recognition of friends. Fathers and mothers, who in the tumult of the stampede had become separated from children; husbands who, despite their efforts, had felt themselves torn away from wives; friends who had been

SUDDENLY AND FOREVER PARTED

from friends; young men, who, while they had no friends to lose in the building, yet felt themselves bereft by reason of the common sympathy of the human heart; all these had, during the time preceding the recovery of the bodies, filled the streets and poured out their inconsolable grief in loudest tones. The Times reporter to whose lot fell the recording of the scenes depicted under this head hopes that it may never again be his to witness a repetition of the scene. The anguish, the frenzy, the loud wailings, the heart-broken demonstrations were, indeed, overpowering and calculated to make an impression upon even the most stony heart that will last as long as reason holds its sway.

THE FRENZY OF FRIENDS.

"The silent bearers of these bodies, as they came and went, could not but be moved to tears at the reception which their burdens met. Here a charming girl, cut off in the flower of her youth and at the height of her pleasure; there a promising lad, full of hope but an hour before. Again, the silvered head of a loved mother, and soon the sturdy frame of one who had passed the heydey of youth and was beginning to enjoy the fruits of his youthful labors. There were people well known, whose sudden taking away will shock many a friend this morning; and there were others, too, male and female, who, lacking friends in life, found no mourners save the full heart of a sympathetic public to regret their departure.

TOO HORRIBLE TO DWELL UPON.

"But these scenes are too painful to be dwelt upon. One by one the dead were removed, some to near hotels, to await the coming dawn, when they might be taken to their late homes, and others being sent to the morgue by the police. At 2 o'clock officers were still searching, and the populace who had been drawn together by the awful catastrophe had dispersed in the main, although a few still lingered about the ruins, anxious to offer assistance where it might most be needed, while two streams of water continued to be poured into the building that every spark might be extinguished.

HOW THEATERS SHOULD BE BUILT.

"Granting that the conflagration detailed never happened, it is something liable to occur at any time in this city. Newspaper accounts more sensational in headlines and more shocking in narrative are to be expected almost any morning. The above is but a suggestion of what may at any time become a reality. Theaters are so built and so crammed with inflammable materials that a fire once started in them would in an incredibly short period gain such headway that nothing under heaven could check its mad and devouring career. Furthermore, the means of exit and all other avenues of escape are so limited that a panic once inaugurated in a crowded house would bring destruction upon the heads of a large proportion of the audience. Have theater-goers in Chicago ever thought of this, as, crowded into a seat, with means of hasty exit cut off, they have sat and looked around them upon the hundreds of others similarly situated?