The Hartford Circus Fire
On the hot, humid afternoon of July 6, 1944, a crowd of almost 9,000
people, mostly children, crowded under a huge tent in Hartford, Connecticut,
for a special matinee performance of the Ringling Brothers, Barnum & Bailey
Circus. Mothers and grandparents brought their young ones to the Barbour Street
fairgrounds for a day of joy and merriment and to forget about the war overseas
for a while.
But later that afternoon, the day turned into horror and death as a
fire broke out under the big top tent. The ensuing inferno killed 168 people
and injured another 484. Five bodies still remain unclaimed and unknown in
Hartford today. The Hartford Circus Fire would turn out to be the worst tragedy
to ever occur in the history of the American circus – and it left a
heartbreaking haunting in its wake.
People came to the circus
that July day in Hartford to forget about their troubles for a few hours – they
had no idea that they were coming to their deaths.
The circus began its history in American in 1790. Since then, more than
1,000 circuses have toured the country and have become a part of colorful part
of America that few can resist. In the first half of the twentieth century, the
mere rumor that a circus might be coming to town was enough to excite every
child in the community.
Perhaps the best-known showman connected to the circus was Phineas
Taylor Barnum, an eccentric promoter who became known for his novelty museums
and engaging hoaxes. Barnum eventually became the founding father of the
spectacular traveling show that would develop into the renowned Ringling
Brothers, Barnum & Bailey Circus. Before leading the life of a showman,
Barnum was a storekeeper and when he failed in business, he started a weekly
magazine, which folded under the weight of several libel suits that landed him
in prison.
In 1834, Barnum relocated to New York and one year later, he became
involved in putting on shows. His first venture involved the exhibition of an
African-American woman who was purported to be the 160-year-old nurse of George
Washington (she wasn’t) and he enjoy short-lived success with this exhibition.
Unfortunately, his attraction died and her age was proven to be no more than
80.
Several years of failure followed and then, in 1841, he purchased
Scudder’s American Museum on Broadway in New York and he re-named it “Barnum’s
American Museum.” Word quickly spread across the city about the numerous
fascinating exhibits on display and it soon became one of the most popular
attractions in New York.
P.T. Barnum and one of his
most famous “attractions,” General Tom Thumb.
In 1842, Barnum’s museum became the talk of the town with exhibits like
the midget “General Tom Thumb” and the Fiji Mermaid, a crudely concocted mummy,
part monkey and part fish, which was alleged to be the preserved body of an
actual mermaid. He also showcased the original Siamese twins, Chang and Eng
Bunker, and continued to expand his offerings with the likes of Native American
dancers and the giantess, Anna Swan.
Barnum may have been the first to promote the sort of exhibits that
would become circus staples, but he was also the first to suffer the kinds of
calamities that would also be connected to the circus – fires, train wrecks and
storms. His museum burned so many times that it was nearly impossible for him
to obtain fire insurance. But what would become the tradition of “the show must
go on” always prevailed. After his museum burned the first time, he moved to a
new building. However, a second fire put him out of business.
After the loss of his last museum, Barnum attempted to take a break
from show business, but looming debt wouldn’t allow him to leave. Finally,
Barnum was convinced to create a partnership with William Cameron Coup, who
owned a circus in Delavan, Wisconsin. With his famous name and Coup’s financial
backing, the "P.T Barnum's Grand Traveling Museum, Menagerie, Caravan
& Hippodrome" was born. His closest competition at the time, James
Bailey, would later become an ally.
In 1872, Barnum coined the phrase, "The Greatest Show on
Earth," as his traveling circus and sideshow toured the world, undergoing
a series of name changes and billings in the process. In 1881, a significant
merger took place when Barnum joined forces with James Bailey and James L.
Hutchinson. The original name, "P.T. Barnum's Greatest Show On Earth, And
The Great London Circus, Sanger's Royal British Menagerie and The Grand
International Allied Shows United" was shortened to "Barnum &
London Circus" for obvious reasons. A series of splits ensued until the
"Barnum & Bailey Greatest Show on Earth" and later "Barnum
& Bailey Circus" became the final name for the show.
When P.T. Barnum passed away in 1891, Bailey purchased the circus from
his widow. He successfully toured the eastern part of the United States until
he transported the circus to Europe in 1897 and began a lengthy tour of the
continent. He remained abroad until 1902 and when he returned to the United
States, he found that the Ringling Brothers, a new circus that had been formed
by five brothers, had established a reputation in the east. The new rivalry
forced Bailey to tour the Rockies for the first time during 1905. The next
year, Bailey passed away and the Barnum's much-loved circus was sold to
Ringling Brothers in 1907 for the sum of $400,000.
In a few short years, the Ringling Brothers show became the most
popular circus in American. As was the method of the times, the circus traveled
from town to town, setting up their tents and sideshows in whatever venue was
available. They started out touring the Midwest, where they achieved great
success, and eventually began traveling all over the United States. The circus
eventually became so large that a train was needed to transport the bulk of
their business. It is through this mode of transportation that the Ringling
Brothers became known as the largest traveling show of their day.
With the combined shows,
the Ringling Brothers, Barnum & Bailey Circus became the largest and most
profitable show in the world.
The Ringlings purchased the Barnum & Bailey Circus in 1907 and kept
the circuses separate for several years. In 1919, the last remaining Ringling
Brothers, Charles and John, decided to combine the two circuses into one grand
enterprise. The "Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Combined Shows"
made its debut at Madison Square Garden in New York City on March 29, 1919.
Throughout the 1920s, the circus continued to generate great success
and when Charles passed away in 1926, John Ringling became recognized as one of
the richest men in the world. Although the circus was affected by the Great
Depression of the early 1930s, it managed to do well, largely because people
counted on the circus to take them away from their troubles for a while. After
the United States entered World War II, the lure of the circus stayed strong.
Despite travel restrictions that were created by the war, President Franklin
Roosevelt made a special declaration to allow the circus to use the rail
system.
People still wanted to escape from reality, which is what they came seeking
that July afternoon in Hartford, Connecticut.
July 6 was a hot day in Hartford, but no one wanted to miss the show.
The previous day’s performance had been cancelled because the circus had
arrived six hours late from Providence, Rhode Island. The circus management had
decided to offer a special afternoon show to make it up to the disappointed
children and adults who had planned to come the night before.
People began arriving at the Barbour Street fairgrounds several hours
before the circus was scheduled to begin. Children ate hot dogs and cotton
candy and mothers purchased tickets for the sideshows and the rides. When it
came time for the show to begin, thousands hurried into the tent while the
Wonder Band played “The Star Spangled Banner.”
The nineteen-ton big top tent was almost as wonderful an attraction as
the animals and performers inside. The massive canvas tent had cost more than
$60,000 and was carefully maintained by the circus crews. It had been
weatherproofed the previous April with a coating of paraffin, thinned with
gasoline, to keep out the rain. Most of the crowd sat on bleachers under the
tent, while those with reserved seats sat on folding chairs in the front. On
the long north side of the tent were three exits, although all of them were
blocked with chutes that were used to bring the animals into the tent. On the
south side were three additional exits, one of which was blocked with cables.
The Flying Wallendas, who
almost didn’t survive the fire on July 6, 1944
The performance began with Alfred Court’s wild animal act, which was
hugely popular with the crowd. As the animals were being escorted out through
the steel enclosures that would take them back to their cages, the Flying
Wallendas, the famed aerial act that was known for their seven-person pyramid
on the high wire, were climbing the poles and getting ready for their
performance. Emmett Kelly, America’s most famous hobo clown, was busy going
through his antics, which brought laughter to children and parents alike. He
was one of the stars of the circus and a universal favorite. Ironically, he never
smiled during a show, always making others laugh with his deadpan expression.
Suddenly, a cry of “fire!” was heard in the tent.
A spot of flame appeared on the tent at the main entrance. A Hartford
police officer was on duty there and said that when he saw it, the hole was no
bigger than a cigarette burn. Slowly, the tiny flame traveled up the canvas
wall, increasing in size as it climbed toward the tent’s roof. It was still a
small fire at first and most of the performers and the audience were not even aware
of it. The spotlights were focused on the Wallendas.
Merle Evans, the circus bandleader, saw the fire at about the same time
the policeman saw it. He instantly led the band into a lively rendition of
“Stars and Stripes Forever,” the song traditionally used in the circus world to
warn performers and circus employees that something was amiss under the big
top.
Almost immediately, someone threw several buckets of water (which were
kept in place inside the tent in case of just such an emergency) but it had no
effect. Trainers tried desperately to hurry the wild animals out of the ring.
All personnel knew that any impending tragedy would be made worse by animals in
the tent’s center. Unfortunately, time was lost when two leopards proved
reluctant to leave. Trainers had to turn a water hose on them in order to prod
them into the chutes. Meanwhile, the Wallendas had descended speedily on their
ropes and were hurrying to safety.
The crowds who previously did not know that the band was playing the
“disaster march” now were undecided whether to watch the trainers struggling
with the animals or to watch the growing fire. Buckets of water were still
being thrown on the blaze, which had now climbed to a height of five or six
feet. Circus hands ran back and forth, trying to decide what to do. Perhaps
this was why there was no panic from the audience – the fire was still small
and it was being dealt with by people who surely knew what they were doing.
Though the fire was still growing, and was about two feet in width, there was
no mass migration toward the exits. Before that actually happened, a strong
wind whipped into the enclosure and the fire suddenly swept across the top of
the tent with alarming speed. It rose across the west end and moved toward the
northeast corner. Soon, the “entire top became a mass of flames,” as one
witness later recalled.
The circus big top became
an inferno, certain death for those trapped inside.
Burning bits of canvas and liquid paraffin began to rain down onto the
now-panicking crowd, inflicting severe burns on everyone they struck. The band
gave up on their music and proceeded to march calmly from the tent in hopes of
encouraging the audience to do the same – but it was too late for that. As
support ropes burned, the tent’s six huge poles began to fall, taking flaming
pieces of canvas with them as they toppled over. Screams filled the tent as the
frightened crowd began to run. Hundreds climbed around the circus wagons,
stumbled over the animal chutes and became tangled in the metal folding chairs
that had been tossed aside in front of the bleachers. Parents tossed their
children into the open arms of strangers at the bottom of the grandstands. Some
of these parents and children left the black smoke unscathed, while others were
trampled and burned amid the confusion.
Many children, separated from their parents, wailed and screamed. One
little boy tried to shield his fallen grandmother from the stampeding crowd,
begging someone to help him get her to her feet. Pieces of flaming canvas
continued to fall and women, their hair and dresses on fire, shrieked and wept.
The human barricade that had been caused by the knocked-over folding chairs
prevented many from reaching the exits. Many rushed to the entrances on the
north side, only to arrive there and find them blocked by the animal chutes.
Hundreds of bodies were later found piled there.
One by one, the heavy support poles crashed over. As the sixth and
final pole toppled, the entire tent, which was now engulfed in flames, swooped
down on the crowd, blanketing them in fiery canvas. Those trapped and screaming
beneath the collapsed tent were doomed and soon they fell silent. It had taken
the fire only ten minutes from the time the first warning cry had gone up to
wreak its havoc.
Sirens screamed at the five alarms triggered and fire trucks raced to
the fairgrounds, but they were too late to save lives. All they could do was
spray water on the charred ruins. To make matters worse, there were no hydrants
on the fairgrounds and the firefighters had to use hydrants located almost
three hundred yards away.
Ambulances lined up to take victims to the hospital. Hartford hospitals
were prepared for such a disaster. It was wartime and major hospitals were
instructed in burn treatment in case of enemy air raids. Victims were given
morphine, wrapped in sheets and given plasma injections.
Volunteers and rescue
workers carry out the survivors – and the dead.
The dead numbered 168 – half of them children. All of them had come to
the circus that day for an afternoon of carefree fun. All of the circus people
escaped alive, although the Wallendas had barely made it out safety. The
villainous and heroic acts of the fire became apparent in the hours, days and
weeks following the disaster. Some threw chairs at others to clear from their
escape route. Some jumped from the tops of the bleachers into the crowds of
people, not knowing or caring if they hurt someone. On the other hand, Emmett
Kelly, the famous clown, rallied performers to get buckets of water and help
however they could. Some grabbed scared and crying children and stayed with
them until they could be reunited with a loved one.
The aftermath of the fire was grim. The Connecticut State Armory was
turned into a temporary morgue and families filed through, lifting white sheets
and trying to identify the charred remains. State and city investigators
followed clues about the causes of the fire, which ranged from a tossed
cigarette, a motor that was left running near the tent that ran out of oil, and
even arson. The likely cause was determined to be a cigarette that was tossed
into some dry grass at the edge of the tent. The rapid spread of the fire was
blamed on the improper weatherproofing of the canvas and the use of highly
flammable materials. State investigators listed eight causes of the fire and
issued citations to Ringling Brothers for various offenses, including failure
to flameproof, location of the animal chutes, insufficiency of personnel,
failure to maintain an organization to fight the fire, lack of firefighting
equipment, failure to distribute firefighting equipment, and the location of
the supply wagons. Five circus employees were charged with manslaughter and
arrested and warrants were issued for four more. Later, seven of the defendants
received one- year prison sentences. Legal claims against Ringling Brothers,
Barnum & Bailey totaled nearly $4 million.
The fire captured America’s attention in 1944 and was ranked tenth
among all stories reported by the Associated Press that year. It was the only
one not related to the war.
Funeral parlors were
forced to hold services for the dead in fifteen-minute intervals and services
were conducted for several victims at the same time.
In Hartford and the Connecticut River Valley, the story was more than
just a news report. It was a heartbreaking occurrence that touched almost every
family in the region in one way or another. Flags flew at half-staff for weeks
and funeral parlors were forced to hold services at fifteen-minute intervals.
The burning of the big top on July 6, 1944 was the worst circus disaster in
history and it continues to haunt the people of Hartford even now, more than 65
years later.
And not all of those haunting memories are physical scars, mental
trauma and bad memories.
Several legends grew in the wake of the fire, including one that stated
that the ghosts of the fire victims remained behind at the site of the tragedy.
Two years after the fire, a housing project was erected nearby and many claimed
the place was haunted. Residents told of hearing screams, strange cries,
disembodied weeping and they spoke of seeing apparitions of people who seemed
to be smoldering, or on fire. One man stated that he was unlocking his door one
night and looked up to see a little boy go running past his apartment. The boy
left a trail of smoke behind him, as though his clothing was burning. The man
dropped the bag of groceries that he was carrying and hurried off to see if the
boy needed help. When he turned the corner in the direction the “burning boy”
had gone, he was shocked to see there was no one there. The man who recounted
the story had recently moved to Hartford and was unaware that the 1944 fire had
occurred a short distance away.
A few years later, the housing project, which had been a temporary
arrangement to ease the home shortage being experienced by returning war
veterans, was torn down and replaced by a school. The weird haunting tales also
plagued the school and it was generally accepted that the ghosts were victims
of the fire.
A memorial to the fire victims now stands at the site and some say the
ghosts remain, lingering at the place where their lives were cut short so
tragically.
From the book, AND HELL FOLLOWED WITH IT by Troy Taylor & Rene Kruse
