Blithering Antiquity©
The Magazette of Historical Curiosities, Inquiries & Intrigues
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Volume Three, Number One Spring 2005
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600
Die When
The Iroquois Theatre . It must have been a grotesque and terrifying transformation: Theatre goers enchanted by a fantastical setting watched the elegant, surreal backdrops of the stage depicting a moonlit scene dissolve into flame. Great clouds of smoke roiled around the sides of the curtains. In moments, the inferno burst from the stage into the auditorium. Amid wild shrieks of terror, the 2,000 attendees rushed to find the exits. Some of the doors were locked or concealed by curtains; those near the front of the building already were enveloped in fire. Choked and clawing for their very lives, the human throngs became their own worst obstacle to escape. Outer aisles and doors were jammed with struggling men and women. The weaker ones collapsed and were trampled. A fire brigade, summoned by a stagehand, was on hand in minutes, but rescue was too late for many. Theatre and dance hall fires make for sensational newspaper copy, even when the actual losses are minimal. In the case of the Chicago disaster of December 1903, the losses were enormous: 600 deaths, two-thirds of them caused by trampling. It occurred at the grand, plush, marble-and-gilt Iroquois Theatre, where the most popular stage productions of the day were imported from the East and abroad to entertain Chicago's social sophisticates. A pantomime, Mr. Bluebeard, was being performed by an English company on the afternoon of the tragedy. The fire is believed to have been caused by heat from an arc lamp igniting gauze hangings that were used to produce the moonlight effect. As a choral ensemble onstage rendered "In the Pale Moonlight," the idyllic scene quickly was transformed into one of horrifying reality. Stage hands were unable to extinguish the fire or to lower a special curtain intended to protect the audience from just such an accident. Delightful and romantic one moment, the Iroquois Theatre instantly was the site of mayhem and panic--a death trap. Interestingly, the cast of some 400 had more freedom to maneuver backstage. They managed to find the rear exits; none perished. Predictably, finger-pointing was directed at every conceivable target as Chicagoans coped with their loss. Even their mayor drew a share of the blame. While the accusations accomplished nothing, the disaster did lead to a flurry of inspections and new safety laws nationwide. Within a week, some 50 theatres across the U.S. were shut down.
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Some say it began during the late Middle Ages as a stick-ball game, played on the ground. By the end of the 15th Century, it had become a table game. Billiards was a pastime of royalty. Mary, Queen of Scots, was one proponent. After resigning herself to her pending execution in 1586, what she dearly longed for while in confinement was not reprieve, but access to her billiard table. One of the earliest known billiard players was Louis XI of France (1423-83). We don't know how well he wielded a cue stick, but if he played the way he ruled, he was a shark. Louis came to be called "The Spider" because of his cunning tactics in securing power over political enemies. The Spaniards brought billiard tables to St. Augustine; later, the English introduced them to northern American colonies. In 1665, an instruction manual of sorts, "De Ca Guerra," was published. Different games and styles of play evolved in England, France and America. Like many sports and pastimes, billiards (the term derives from a French word meaning "stick") quickly attracted the gambling crowd. Fortunes have been won and lost; lives have been sacrificed in duels and in smoke-filled back rooms. A select few have managed to earn respectable livings with their billiard skills. One, Englishman Jack Carr, in the early 1800s fashioned a successful sales career by peddling boxes of chalk which, he claimed, magically stabilized the tip of the cue stick. (In reality, he was selling ordinary chalk at a premium.) Good billiard players are noted for their nerves of steel. When their nerves fail, it can bring both loss and personal destruction. The story is told of Louis Fox who, vying for a thousand-dollar prize in Rochester, NY, in 1865, was victimized by a pesky fly in the room. It landed on the cue ball as he prepared a shot, then buzzed 'round his head and assailed the balls on the table. By the time he finally shooed it away and made his shot, Fox was so flabbergasted he miscued and lost the match. He fled the billiard hall in despair. Not long afterward, his body was found in a nearby river; he apparently drowned himself. The Great Blithering Antiquity Quiz: 1)
What was the relationship between Kublai and Genghis Khan? 2)
Composer Johann Pachelbel (1653-1706) was of what nationality? 3)
In what year was the Constitution ("Old Ironsides")
launched? 4) Sir Alexander Mackenzie of Scotland in 1789 explored the river which now bears his name in what country? 5) True or false: Sir Winston Churchill was once a newspaper war correspondent.
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Cruzan
Women For many years after slaves on the island of St. Croix won their freedom from the Danish colonial government in 1848, they languished. They officially were free to refuse to work on the sugar plantations or to choose which plantation they would join, but as free laborers they found living and working conditions little different from those of the slave era. In years when crops fared poorly, the workers suffered severely. Frustrations boiled into violence in Frederiksted, the port city at the western end of the island, in 1878. A rowdy mob attacked the Danish fort. Soon the whole island was in turmoil as roaming bands of laborers raided, looted and burned the planters' estates. Sugar cane growing and rum production represented almost the whole of St. Croix's economy--which provided an unique twist to the mayhem that occurred. While native men clashed with the Danish militia, women and children wielded a particularly effective weapon on behalf of their cause: fire. They were led by three "queens": Queen Mary, Queen Matilda and Queen Agnes. They torched Frederiksted's rum warehouses, which because of their flammable contents quickly exploded. Approximately half the city was destroyed, as were many of the island plantations. The St. Croix labor riots of 1878 lasted five days and cost approximately 100 lives. The upshots included improved labor regulations and eased tensions between planters and workers. But sugar production was on the decline as a result of a conspiracy of factors ranging from European trade trends to tropical storms. When the United States bought St. Croix, St. Thomas and St. John from Denmark in 1917, islanders hoped their economic lot would improve dramatically. Besides giving rum production a shot in the arm, the U.S. established a naval base in the islands. But Prohibition (1920-33) crippled the island's rum-making. Not until after World War II did the U.S. Virgin Islands attain a semblance of prosperity. As for the Cruzan women who led the great Frederiksted "fire burn" of 1878, they were jailed in Christiansted (also called Bassin at the time). They reportedly were shipped to Denmark for trial. After a period of imprisonment there, they were allowed to return home. The queens of St. Croix's labor riots command a special respect in the fascinating history of the island. Sugar cane production continues to dominate the economy of the Virgin Islands. Weather, which has made it a tenuous endeavor from time immemorial, continues to wreak havoc. Hugo (1989) and Marilyn (1995) are two of the hurricanes which have left heavy damage in recent years. . |
Meet the Author/Editor

Daniel Elton Harmon is
the author of
The Chalk Town Train
& Other Tales,
Volume One in a Sherlock Holmes-style historical
mystery/adventure short story
series set in late-19th-Century South
Carolina—his home state. He has written
more
than 50 books, most of them educational works for
juveniles, and feature articles for
The New York Times, Music Journal and scores of other periodicals. Associate editor
of
Sandlapper:
The Magazine of South Carolina and editor of The
Lawyer's PC, a national
technology newsletter, he lives in Spartanburg,
SC, with his wife, two daughters, four
fun dogs and an obnoxious Eclectus
parrot. He occasionally plays Celtic and traditional
American hymns at his
church, Spartanburg
Associate Reformed Presbyterian.
.
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