Civil, political, professional and ecclesiastical history, and commercial and industrial record of the County of Kings and the City of Brooklyn, N. Y., Part 116

Author: Stiles, Henry Reed, 1832-1909.
Publication date: 1884
Publisher: New York : Munsell
Number of Pages: 1360


USA > New York > Kings County > Brooklyn > Civil, political, professional and ecclesiastical history, and commercial and industrial record of the County of Kings and the City of Brooklyn, N. Y. > Part 116


Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).


Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31 | Part 32 | Part 33 | Part 34 | Part 35 | Part 36 | Part 37 | Part 38 | Part 39 | Part 40 | Part 41 | Part 42 | Part 43 | Part 44 | Part 45 | Part 46 | Part 47 | Part 48 | Part 49 | Part 50 | Part 51 | Part 52 | Part 53 | Part 54 | Part 55 | Part 56 | Part 57 | Part 58 | Part 59 | Part 60 | Part 61 | Part 62 | Part 63 | Part 64 | Part 65 | Part 66 | Part 67 | Part 68 | Part 69 | Part 70 | Part 71 | Part 72 | Part 73 | Part 74 | Part 75 | Part 76 | Part 77 | Part 78 | Part 79 | Part 80 | Part 81 | Part 82 | Part 83 | Part 84 | Part 85 | Part 86 | Part 87 | Part 88 | Part 89 | Part 90 | Part 91 | Part 92 | Part 93 | Part 94 | Part 95 | Part 96 | Part 97 | Part 98 | Part 99 | Part 100 | Part 101 | Part 102 | Part 103 | Part 104 | Part 105 | Part 106 | Part 107 | Part 108 | Part 109 | Part 110 | Part 111 | Part 112 | Part 113 | Part 114 | Part 115 | Part 116 | Part 117 | Part 118 | Part 119 | Part 120 | Part 121 | Part 122 | Part 123 | Part 124 | Part 125 | Part 126 | Part 127 | Part 128 | Part 129 | Part 130 | Part 131 | Part 132 | Part 133 | Part 134 | Part 135 | Part 136 | Part 137 | Part 138 | Part 139 | Part 140 | Part 141 | Part 142 | Part 143 | Part 144 | Part 145 | Part 146 | Part 147 | Part 148 | Part 149 | Part 150 | Part 151 | Part 152 | Part 153 | Part 154 | Part 155 | Part 156 | Part 157 | Part 158 | Part 159 | Part 160 | Part 161 | Part 162 | Part 163 | Part 164 | Part 165 | Part 166 | Part 167 | Part 168 | Part 169 | Part 170 | Part 171 | Part 172 | Part 173 | Part 174 | Part 175 | Part 176 | Part 177 | Part 178 | Part 179 | Part 180 | Part 181 | Part 182 | Part 183 | Part 184 | Part 185 | Part 186 | Part 187 | Part 188 | Part 189


was one of those artists whose keen, good judgment and great heart always raised him above the pettiness of attempting to add to his own lustre by the aid of colorless surroundings. That great actor knew-as every truly great actor always knows-that he shone best when his support was most competent and intel- ligent; and the writer takes great pleasure in stating, that two years previous to Mr. Conway's death, while taking Thanksgiv. ing dinner with the great tragedian, at his residence in Bread street, Philadelphia, Mr. Forrest remarked " that he never in his life, as a star actor, here or in Europe, met with a mere able supporter, a more genial gentleman, or a more thorough dra- matic scholar than Mr. Conway," and this was perfectly true. At the time of his first appearance in this country, at the Broadway Theatre, in conjunction with Mr. Davidge, on the 19th of August of that year, when the Broadway Theatre was reopened by Marshall, with Mr. G. Barrett as stage manager, the initial performance was " The School for Scandal"; Mr. Conway play- ing the part of Charles Surface. During the season he essayed the characters of Hamlet, Macbeth, Othello, Claude Mulnotte, Captain Absolute, and Doricourt, in all of which he was emi- nently successful. Tragedy and light comedy were equally con genial to him, and he soon became an established favorite. He also appeared in "The Stranger," with Miss Charlotte Cush. man as Mrs. Haller, and in "The Husband of My Heart," as the Count de Fromsac. In the intervals of their engagements, Mr. Conway, with his wife, made extended "starring tours," visiting the principal cities of the East, West, and South, and meeting with favorable receptions wherever they played. Ad- mirable as Mr. Conway was as a " star," his greatest reputation was achieved while supporting Edwin Forrest, and though en- dowed by nature and gifted in a remarkable degree, the secret of Mr. Conway's success rested in his pains-taking conscientious- ness; with him whatever was worth doing at all, was worth doing well. His motto may be said to have been, "Whatever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might." His por- trayal of the character of Jacques was a very fine performance. His Elgar, in "Lear," was unapproachable. His Rolando, in " The Honeymoon," as a piece of epigrammatic acting, if it might be so termed, was the best that has ever been scen on the American stage, and was only equaled by his representation of Pythias, in ' Damon and Pythias." A favorite character with him was Malvolio, in "The Twelfth Night." In all the attri- butes which form the gentleman, the actor, and the scholar, Mr. Conway was the peer of the brilliant galaxy with whom he was contemporary. Ilis social qualitics endcared him to a large cir- cle of friends and admirers, who all felt alike the loss of Fred- erick B. Conway.


Ilc died Sept. 7th, 1874, in Manchester, Mass., whither he had gone in quest of health and strength. Mr. Conway had been in ill-health for nearly three years previously. His funeral took place, Thursday, Sept. 10th, from the Church of the "Savior." The Rev. Mr. Nye preached the funeral sermon, and over a thousand people attended the service. He was buried amid the quiet and leafy intervals of Greenwood, and his death was sincerely felt by thousands of citizens. The Edwin Forrest Club, of New York, of which he was a member, took appropriate action in regard to the loss which the dramatic profession had sustained in the death of this execllent artist.


MRs. F. B. CONWAY, before meeting and marrying Mr. Con- way, was known as Miss Sarah G. Crocker. She was born in Litchfield, Conn., and was the daughter of Rev. Mr. Crocker, an Episcopalian minister of that place. At two years of age, the family moved to New York. In this city she imbibed a taste for theatricals, and at the age of fifteen she entered the prof s. sion of which a sister had already become a member. It is quite a coincidence that her first appearance upon any stage was made in this city, although not a resident. This appearance was inade in the theatre attached to Du Flon's Military Garden, already alluded to. Whether this first appearance was successful,


ยท First appearance.


1119


THE DRAMA, OPERA, MUSIC. AND ART.


and whether she manifested the abilities which have since won her a distinguished place in the American drama, the records say not, and the lady herself was too modest to tell. It is pre- sumed, however, that she was appreciated, for she remained the season out. From thence she went to Baltimore, Maryland, and became a member of the company of which Mr. John E. Owens, the distinguished comedian, was the manager.


Severing her connection with this company, the lady joined Purdy's National Theatre, in Chatam street, New York, then in its glory, in 1850. Playing here one season, she is next found upon the boards of the Broadway Theatre, where she met Mr. Conway, whom she married during the engagement. The next season, that of 1852, she joined J. W. Wallack's company, taking the position of leading lady, made vacant by the defection of Miss Laura Keene. The company at Wallack's at this time was one of the best gathered under his distinguished management. The cast of " Much Ado About Nothing" will give the best idea of the ability of his company, and we here present it : J. W. Wallack, Jr., Benedick; Lester Wallack, Pedro; Jno. Dyott, Claudio; F. Chippendale, Antonio ; W. R. Blake, Dogberry; Chas. Hale, Verges ; Mrs. F. B. Conway, Beatrice; Mrs. Hale, Hero.


In this play Mus. Conway fairly divided the honors of the evening with Mr. Wallack. Here she remained, a great favorite with the critical audiences of this theatre, for one season, and then Mr. William Wheatly, having conceived the idea of build- ing up a Wallack's in Philadelphia, leased the Arch Street Theatre, and engaged Mr. and Mrs. F. B. Conway as members. The company was exceeding strong, and was noted for the abil- ity of the ladies, and Mrs. Conway was the leading lady. The company comprised the names of Mrs. Conway, Mrs. D. P. Bowers, Mrs. John Drew, Miss Caroline Richings, Mrs. Anna Cowell, then known as Miss Cruise, Mr. Conway, Mr. H. Perry, Mr. George Boniface, Mr. E. F. Keach, Mr. John and Frank Drew, and Mr. John E. Owens. The company separated at the conclusion of the season, and the subject of our sketch with her husband joined the fortunes of the Walnut Street Theatre. At the conclusion of this season, Mr. and Mrs. Conway set out ipon a starring tour. For ten years they traveled up and down the country, considered by managers among the most remunerative stars then before the public. They added to their ame and fortune, but the romance of traveling soon wears out, and ten years showed them the vanity of wide spread fame. They finally came to Brooklyn, took the management of the Park Theatre, opening on a rainy night to a small house, on April 2d, .864. The first season was gloomy in its prospects and very un- profitable, but pluck, perseverance, ability, and managerial tact nade the Park Theatre a success, and brought them wealth. The uneral of Mrs. Conway took place from the same church as did her husband's. She died April 28th, 1874, forty-two years old. Ier remains were deposited in Greenwood, by the side of her husband.


And so, within the little space of one year, these two busy people of the drama, who looked forward to wealth and dramatic riumphs, were put to silence by that inscrutable power as against which we are nothing.


After the daughters gave up the theatre, it was next eased to Mr. Theodore Moss, of Wallack's Theatre, put, Mr. Wallack refusing to lend his name to the en- erprise, Mr. Moss forfeited what he had paid, and for time the theatre went begging until 1875, when Iessrs. Shook and Palmer, of the Union Square Theatre, New York, became the lessees, and continued o run it as a branch of their New York establishment, performing all of their most attractive stars and pieces, rith but partial success. Under these managers oc- urred the most frightful calamity that ever took place n the history of the drama.


The Burning of the Brooklyn Theatre, on Tuesday night, December 5th, 1876.


The flames were first seen creeping along one of the flies on the left-hand side of the stage, and in less than two minutes all the drapery was in flames, and forked tongues of the devouring element could be seen creeping along through the canvas of which the roof of the scenic cabin was composed. Such scenes of terror on the part of a panic-stricken audience and of cool perseverance and courage on the part of a few others-the actors on the stage-have rarely, if ever before, been chronicled, either in this or any other city. The curtain had risen on the last act of the drama of "The Two Orphans." Miss Kate Claxton, who was acting the part of Louise, the blind girl, lay on her pallet of straw on the left-hand side of the stage, the scene being the boat- house on the river, the home of La Frochard. Near stood Mrs. Mary Ann Farren, La Frochard. Mr. J. E. Studley, who was acting the part of Jacques Frochard, and Mr. H. S. Murdock, Pierre, the cripple. Miss Claxton had already heard it whis- pered behind the scenes that the theatre was on fire, but even though she could see the flames directly over her, with rare presence of mind and courage, she went on with the perform- ance of her part, as did her companions, not one of them betray- ing by look nor word the agitation felt by all. The flames spread rapidly, however, and when the appalling fact could no longer be kept from the audience-for some of those in the or- chestra chairs had already discovered it and were starting up in their seats-the actors, with one accord in beseeching tones, called upon them for "God's sake to disperse quietly." Some person in the audience shouted that the theatre was on fire, and the alarm- ing cry of "Fire ! Fire !" was caught up by those in the family circle and the gallery, until it was echoed and re-echoed from pit to dome. Those of the audience who could retain their presence of mind, in response to the advice of the actors, resumed their seats, but it was only for a few seconds, and then began an in- discriminate rush for the doors. The books of the box-office show that there were seated in the theatre over one thousand persons, two hundred and fifty of whom were seated in the par- quet and orchestra, three hundred and fifty in the dress circle, and four hundred and five in the upper gallery. Within three minutes after the discovery of the fire, this mass of human be- ings was clambering over the seats and over each other, in their frantic endeavors to reach the exits. The entrances and cor- ridors to the lower part of the house, which lead out to Wash- ington street, were by no means commodious, but nevertheless the crush in them was small compared with that at the exit from the upper gallery. When the worst became known, the ushers acted nobly and endeavored to quiet the terrified people, their chief, Mr. Thomas Rochford, going down to and opening the door leading out from the auditorium to Flood's alley, in the rear of the theatre. This door afforded a means of escape for many who might otherwise have lost their lives, and in a very short time nearly every person who had been seated in the lower part of the house had reached the street in safety.


This, however, was but the beginning of the end, for black volumes of smoke began to roll from the burning scenery of the stage into the body of the house, almost totally shutting off the light of the gas, and depriving those in the house, for a few mo- ments at least, of air to breathe. The scene at this moment was one which beggars description. The actors had rushed from the stage to save themselves, and having managed to escape the clutches of the flames, met again in the street in their stage cos- tumes and congratulated one another. The unfortunate and terrified people in the dress-circle and gallery were rushing pell-mell toward the one door which gave egress from each, and through which only two or three persons could pass at one time. The house was filled with smoke, and the ^ir was almost stifling. Men shouted and rudely jostled delicate women in their efforts to reach the doors. Strong men shed tears, and women and boys screamed with fright, a large number fainting away and


1120


HISTORY OF KINGS COUNTY.


being trampled under foet by the rushing mass. Thus far the audience had seen very little flame, but the stage entrances and the scene doors having opened, a streng current of air was let into the rear of the building, which drove the flames out from the stage-enclosure, and as they lieked up everything in their path, the whele interior of the building was lighted up with the lurid glare. Many of the unfortunate people who had, up till this time, preserved their equilibrium, now broke ferth with heart- rending eries fer help. A few there were among this mass of terrified and struggling humanity whe made noble endeavors to prevent their unknown companions from crushing one another to death, but fell suffocated under the feet of those whose lives they were endeavoring to save. The flames roared and crackled as they rushed upward toward the dome, and the hot, blinding and suffeeating smeke poured dewn mercilessly on the peor unfer- tunates, whose efforts already showed signs of weakening. All this, it must be remembered, was only the werk ef a few min- utes, and still the devouring flames mounted higher and higher. Three alarms had been rung in quick succession, and the en- gines could be heard nearing the vicinity. The streets were filled with a throng of excited people, who ran hither and thither, calling aloud the names of dear ones, whese voices could not be heard in answer. Many were hatless and ceatless, their garments having been torn from them by the pushing and jostling ef the crowd.


The police of the First Precinct, under the command of Ser- geants Easen and Cain, were en the ground within three minutes after the breaking out of the fire, and did very effective werk in quieting the fears of the populace. These gallant men, divest- ing themselves of their outer garments, rushed inte the burning building and, pushing their way on beyond the main corrider, ascended the stairs leading to the dress circle, and assisted a number to escape. On reaching the top of the staircase, how- ever, the blinding smoke foreed them to retreat. They did net give up the gallant fight, however, and returned again, this time ascending the stairs leading to the upper gallery, where they found a mass of people, and were compelled to use their clubs to prevent them from trampling one another to death. Inside, meanwhile, the flames made rapid progress, and had forced their way through the roof, which had become one sheet of seething fame. The cries of the doomed auditors for help could no longer be heard, and the stream of people that had hitherto poured forth from the burning building was rapidly diminish- ing. An awful hush fell over the multitude, for it was well known that there were still hundreds of people within the burn- ing structure. These victims, in their terrible haste to reach the street, became wedged together in a short turn in the staircase, and thus prevented those from behind from escaping. Frantic in their terror, those in the rear having more room than those ahead of them, jostled and trampled upon one another, and it is thought that very many were killed in this way. The volume of flamo which issued from the roof, and shot upward into the air, rapidly increased, and soon the entire upper part of the building was one lurid sheet. In less than twenty minutes after the sounding of the first alarm, the mansard roof fell in with a erash, carrying with it to the cellar both the upper gallery and the dress circle, with their freight of human beings. By this time the entire Fire Department was on the spot, and numerous streams of water were being poured into the burning building and upon the adjoining houses, to which the efforts of the fire- men were directed, in the hope that these, at least, might be saved. Before the falling of the roof, some of the inmates en- denvored to get through the windows, but so far as known, only ono succeeded, and ho jumped to the roof of the station-house. Another, who was immediately behind him, only succeeded in catching hold of the sill of the window, when the smoke and flaine forced him to relax his hold, and he fell back into the burning cauldron beneath, to share the fate of those who had not succeeded in gettingeven so slight a chance of safety. Soon


the majer portion of the Johnson street or seutherly wall fell, ernshing beneath it a brick house and covering the street with debris. A few minutes later, the easterly wall fell, and the Brooklyn Theatre was a heap ef smeuldering ruins. Some ef the three hundred unfortunate people who had suffered such a terrible death might even now have been left in a condition to be recognized by their friends, but the gas burnt fiercely, light- ing up the seene and sending a cloud of white steam into the air. Hardly an hour had elapsed from the time of the breaking out of the fire before the building was totally demelished, and the flames well under contrel. Streams of water were kept pouring upen the ruins during the remainder of the night, and it was decided that at daylight the search for the missing ones should commence. Mayer Schroeder, Commissioners Jourdan and Vyhun, were present during the conflagration, directing the movements of their subordinates.


A few minutes after four o'clock in the morning, they reached the box-office and found the first bedy. It was that ef a large woman, and was lying face downward. Even at that hour many of the most experienced firemen were of the opinion no great num- ber ef persons had lest their lives. A few hours later, however, when daylight began to break, all doubt hadevanished, and the terrible reality was revealed. The smoke and steam were still ascending in dense velumes, but an occasional puff ef wind blew aside the clouds, and the horror-stricken firemen saw the bodies of the dead who had fallen through from the gallery piled up in heaps. Chief Engineer Nevins at once assigned a com- pany of firemen to remove the dead. From the frent entrance on Washington street, for a distance of about thirty feet, the floor remained unburned, and at this point the werk ef removing the bedies was commenced, and they were piled in a heap in the entrance-way. Hardly any were recognizable except by their clothing. At this time, the extent of the calamity was not fully knewn, and the crowd outside could be numbered by hundreds. An hour later, when a large ferce of undertakers had arrived with wagens, and the bodies began to be removed to the Mergue, the excitement knew no bounds. The police force was doubled, but for a time it seemed as if the excited crowd would break down all barriers and rush bodily into the ruined theatre. The half-burned and broken glass doors were pulled partially to- gether, and a group of sturdy policemen was stationed in the gap, with orders to allow no person to enter. This course en- abled the firemen to pursue their dangerous work with a little less peril to themselves.


The tloor, with the exception of the portion just inside the entrance, had fallen into the cellar, and it was at this peint most of the bodies were found. The second bend in the stairs lead- ing to the top gallery, was immediately over the corridor. When the gallery gave way, it fell into the cellar. In order to get out the bodies, it was found necessary to have a large ladder, the top of which rested at the entrance to the corrider on the ground floor and the end on the smoking ruins. The rungs were hastily covered with boards so as to make a gangway for the passage of the undertakers' men. For hours the firemen worked down in the smoking ruins, amid the still burning beams of the floor and galleries. A stream of water was kept constantly playing inte the cellar. As the work progressed and the smoke became lens dense, tho undertakers' cases were pushed down along the gang. way, and the bodies placed in them and decently covered before being taken up. Many men who anxiously strove and even fought to obtain an entrance, turned siek when they had looked onee on the ghastly heap of the dead. Passing down into the ruins among the firemen, the sight was complelely appalling Ono's powers of thought and speech were paralyzed. Even the firemen, used to similar scenes, moved about awe-stricken and silent among the heap of dead, pulling aside the debris wherever possible with their hands, without resorting to the implement of their eratt. hu one place the bodies of twenty persons, mon of them young and of the male sex, were found closely wedges


1121


THE DRAMA, OPERA, MUSIC AND ART.


together, lying over each other in layers. They were not much burned, but so blackened and bruised as to be beyond recogni- tion. About noon, the body of officer Patrick McKearon, of the Sanitary Squad, was taken from the ruins. He was detailed in the gallery of the theatre, and died in the performance of his duty. But of the four hundred persons in the gallery, not more than one hundred escaped. The stairway was very narrow, and had a tortuous bend just over the entrance to the main corridor. At seven o'clock, December 6th, all the bodies which had fallen through this passageway when the gallery gave way, had not been recovered.


As soon as it became too dark for the men to see what they were about, calcium lights were procured and placed at different points among the ruins, and with their light, no difficulty was experienced in continuing the work. In order to give more light at the entrance, the burner of a street lamp on Washington street, directly opposite, was broken off, and the heavy stream of gas was lighted. It gave out a brilliant flame about eighteen inches high, illuminating the street from one end of the block to the other. The flooring of the lobby of the theatre was the only part of the whole, which had not fallen through, and on the further end of this another calcium light had been placed in such a manner, as to throw its rays down into the space between the side wall and foundation wall of the partition, dividing the obby and the auditorium, where the greater number of the bodies were found. On the east side of the ruins a third cal- ium light was placed, its light falling directly upon the anterior portion of the auditorium, where a large number of ladies were also discovered. About a quarter past seven o'clock, the space between the side wall and the foundation wall of the lobby par- ition above mentioned, was completely cleared, and the labors of the firemen were directed to the debris in the auditorium. The scene, as viewed from the gap in the main wall in Johnson treet, was singularly weird. The bright glare of the lime-lights hrew the broken and rugged edges of the walls and arches into trong relief, and the black and grimy figures of the firemen, as hey raised the bodies and bent over the coffins, was a scene jong to be remembered.


The scenes at the Morgue in the market on Washington street, with thousands of persons viewing the charred remains, and dentifying the bodies, were indescribable.


As the bodies were taken from the ruins of the burned theater, hey were placed in undertakers' wagons and ambulances and onveyed to the Market House. The first loads of fire-blackened nd disfigured bodies were taken to the City Morgue on Wil- pughby street about six o'clock, where they were placed in pffin-like boxes, kept for the reception of the hospital dead. 'here was then no supposition on the part of those who brought le first dreadful load of dead, that there was to be so great a emand upon the accommodations of the Morgue as afterward roved to be the case. But another and another load followed uickly upon the first, until more than eighty bodies had been rewn upon the marble floors. By eight o'clock, every spot of vailable space had been occupied by the charred and ghastly mains. The Morgue has but one dead-room in which bodies re usually displayed for recognition, but the entire first floor f the building in which the Morgue is situated, was devoted, on is occasion, to the exhibition of its horrible occupants. The crowds that collected by thousands were permitted to enter, after tisfying the officers on duty that they came. not from idle riosity, but for the purpose of identifying, if possible, missing latives or friends. Many came provided with passes, but some ho did not hold them, were allowed to enter, after pleading ith tears to be admitted.


Two actors stifled and burned while endeavoring to escape. - At the oment when the fire was first discovered, Mr. Murdock was efore the curtain playing with Miss Kate Claxton. As soon as e panic occurred and a general rush was made to escape, Mr. hrope, the stage manager, saw Messrs. Murdock and Bur- (3)




Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.