Circus Fire Experience
by Geoffrey Wilson, formerly of Wethersfield
It was July 6, 1944 and my Grampa and I were headed to the Barnum and Bailey circus in Hartford. I had attended the prior two years, and this had become a summer event I looked forward to. It was a three-ring circus, all under one tent, and a big deal for an eight-year-old.
My Grampa was deaf and could not speak, so he always carried a small pad and pencil with him in order to communicate with those who had their hearing. Since I wasn’t much of a reader or speller at that time, the use of the pad and pencil was of little value to our relationship. I did know one alphabet sign, which I believe was the letter P. My mom had instructed me to use this sign whenever I had to go to the bathroom. It worked well.
Being wartime, Grampa and I took the bus to the circus grounds. I recall it as one of the longest, if not the longest, bus trips I had ever taken to that point in my life, and it involved a couple of transfers. It was a hot day, as are all the days in July in Connecticut. We got off the bus and had to walk a short distance to the circus grounds. It was impressive seeing the big tent, and the hundreds of people milling around.
As usual, we were early enough to take in the sideshow and its entire wondrous oddball array of characters. And of course, prior to their grand entrance into the tent, we had to view the tethered animals as well as those confined to cages. We eventually entered the tent to discover that this year’s seats were very good. We were just past the center ring, about halfway up the bleachers. There were three rings enclosed in a sawdust track. The lion cage was to our left, with its animal runway opposite us, extending across the parade track. I don’t recall how spectators with seats on that side of the tent got beyond this barrier.
I do recall that, as we were waiting for the show to start, an Army soldier hobbled up the stairway using crutches, and he sat behind us. My active mind assumed he had been wounded in the war. The show commenced. The lion act was always the first because the animal runway was an impediment to activities that involved circling the track, such as the grand parade entrance of all the performers. I very much disliked the lion act because their cage seemed so flimsy, and the lions roared and banged against the cage with such ferocity that I was always worried it would fall and they would escape. This act was no different. I did not like it, but it was ending, and the high-wire people were starting to warm up above the center ring.
It was at this point that I began to notice that what I had thought was the flow of the late arrivals moving to their seats near the performer’s entrance became more and more numerous. finally, it became a steady stream. It seemed like everyone had the same thought, and decided to look to our left all at the same time see what was causing the increasing crowd of people moving past us from left to right.
And we all saw it at once. The tent was on fire near the general public entrance. The fire was in the area where we had sat the previous year. There must have been screaming and hollering at this point, though I don’t recall it. I can visualize all seats between us, and the track being vacant almost immediately, with folding chairs scattered hither and yon. Obviously, the grandstand cleared much faster than my Grampa and I were able to move. It took a few moments for Grampa to figure out what was happening. I am sure I was impatient, watching the fire spread towards us while Grampa and I stood there looking at the friend the crushing crowd on the track, At that point, I had three thoughts. What is going to happen with the lions? How are the high-wire folks going to get down? And I recall turning around and looking at the injured soldier standing behind us on his crutches and wondering how is he going to get out of here?
Finally, my Grampa and I made our move. Grampa grabbed my hand and we started down, out of the grandstand, as I watched the fire advance towards the high wire artists. I knew they would never make it out, but they did. Grampa moved too slowly for an eight-year-old scared out of his wits. We got to the track and crammed into the crowd that was flowing towards the performer entrance at the opposite end of the tent from the fire. It was a huge mass of panicked people cramming towards the entrance and safety. I was scared, real scared! At some point, I could not tolerate Grampa’s slow pace and broke loose from his handhold and squeezed and pushed my way through the crowd.
Grampa always said he saw me exit the tent and knew I was safe, but I never figured out how that was possible. I just remember a wall of moving bodies, all pushing and shoving towards the performer entrance. As I approached the exit, I vividly recall looking to my left in disbelief as the band continued to play in the face of such great danger. It was unbelievable to me that they continued to play. I also recall the tent being about half engulfed in flames as I exited it.
Once clear of the tent, my fear did not abate, as I just knew the lions must have escaped their cage and were roaming grounds, I just flowed with the other escapees, following the crowd to a street adjacent to the circus grounds. Not until writing this account has it ever occurred to me that I could have stepped out of the flow and waited to see if my Grampa made it out and reunite with him. As I followed the flow of escapees, I had no idea where we were headed. I was just getting away from the danger and chaos. I can see clearly the towering black flames off to my right. Was I crying? I don’t think so. Was I scared? Badly. I had no idea what to do, and no idea as to the fate of my Grampa.
Somewhere along the way, a man who lived in the neighborhood befriended me. He probably asked me who I was with, and what happened to my Grampa. I don’t recall what he said. Of course, I had no idea whether Grampa had made it out and, if he had, how he would get in contact with me, since he could not speak or hear. I shared this information with the gentleman, who suggested I follow him to his nearby house, then he would go back to look for my Grampa. So I followed him to his house, which was about a block from the circus grounds.
We got there, and I don’t think he knew what to do. The house was empty, and we were standing in the kitchen as I explained to him about my grandfather. He told me to stay there and he would go look for Grampa. So, I stood in the center of kitchen, barely moving, and waited for the man to return. I don’t know how long I waited, but it was scary because I still didn’t know what had happened with the lions.
Eventually the man returned. How long he was gone, I have no idea, but what seemed like a long time probably wasn’t. He took me to a yellow house, adjacent to the circus grounds that was being used as a communication center. It was packed with people milling around, both inside and out. I again explained about my Grampa to someone who seemed to be in charge. I think it was a lady, but I really can’t recall. At any rate, this individual guided me into the house, and either she or I phoned my mom to let her know I was okay. It was a long wait, but I eventually got my turn on the phone. I don’t recall what Mom said, but I am sure she was greatly relieved to hear from me, and concerned about her dad. While waiting for the phone, I encountered a classmate of mine - Eugene Mazo - and his mother. They lived about a half-mile from me. They had a car and offered to take me home with them.
On the trip home, we had to stop by the hospital for some reason. I think Eugene’s grandma had been injured, and Mrs. Mazo wanted to check on her. I do recall the wait in the car was stifling. I was eventually delivered home, safe and sound of body, but with visions of roaming lions. Once home, I recall wandering aimlessly around the neighborhood, talking to other families about the fire and filling them in on what little I knew of my Grampa’s fate. Eventually, my Grampa made it to the same yellow house and wrote a note to someone to have them call home inquiring about me. A great relief to my mother, I am sure. How Grampa got home? I assume he took the bus.
I recall going to bed that night and asking my dad to leave the door open so that there would be light in the room. I lay in bed facing the light afraid to roll over and face the shadows where I knew the lions lurked. I slept facing the light for many years.
As the toll of the fire became known, I learned that a classmate of mine, Judy Berman, was one of the fire’s victim’s, as was Valerie Nogas, an older neighbor girl who lived on the next street from me.
My Grampa was deaf and could not speak, so he always carried a small pad and pencil with him in order to communicate with those who had their hearing. Since I wasn’t much of a reader or speller at that time, the use of the pad and pencil was of little value to our relationship. I did know one alphabet sign, which I believe was the letter P. My mom had instructed me to use this sign whenever I had to go to the bathroom. It worked well.
Being wartime, Grampa and I took the bus to the circus grounds. I recall it as one of the longest, if not the longest, bus trips I had ever taken to that point in my life, and it involved a couple of transfers. It was a hot day, as are all the days in July in Connecticut. We got off the bus and had to walk a short distance to the circus grounds. It was impressive seeing the big tent, and the hundreds of people milling around.
As usual, we were early enough to take in the sideshow and its entire wondrous oddball array of characters. And of course, prior to their grand entrance into the tent, we had to view the tethered animals as well as those confined to cages. We eventually entered the tent to discover that this year’s seats were very good. We were just past the center ring, about halfway up the bleachers. There were three rings enclosed in a sawdust track. The lion cage was to our left, with its animal runway opposite us, extending across the parade track. I don’t recall how spectators with seats on that side of the tent got beyond this barrier.
I do recall that, as we were waiting for the show to start, an Army soldier hobbled up the stairway using crutches, and he sat behind us. My active mind assumed he had been wounded in the war. The show commenced. The lion act was always the first because the animal runway was an impediment to activities that involved circling the track, such as the grand parade entrance of all the performers. I very much disliked the lion act because their cage seemed so flimsy, and the lions roared and banged against the cage with such ferocity that I was always worried it would fall and they would escape. This act was no different. I did not like it, but it was ending, and the high-wire people were starting to warm up above the center ring.
It was at this point that I began to notice that what I had thought was the flow of the late arrivals moving to their seats near the performer’s entrance became more and more numerous. finally, it became a steady stream. It seemed like everyone had the same thought, and decided to look to our left all at the same time see what was causing the increasing crowd of people moving past us from left to right.
And we all saw it at once. The tent was on fire near the general public entrance. The fire was in the area where we had sat the previous year. There must have been screaming and hollering at this point, though I don’t recall it. I can visualize all seats between us, and the track being vacant almost immediately, with folding chairs scattered hither and yon. Obviously, the grandstand cleared much faster than my Grampa and I were able to move. It took a few moments for Grampa to figure out what was happening. I am sure I was impatient, watching the fire spread towards us while Grampa and I stood there looking at the friend the crushing crowd on the track, At that point, I had three thoughts. What is going to happen with the lions? How are the high-wire folks going to get down? And I recall turning around and looking at the injured soldier standing behind us on his crutches and wondering how is he going to get out of here?
Finally, my Grampa and I made our move. Grampa grabbed my hand and we started down, out of the grandstand, as I watched the fire advance towards the high wire artists. I knew they would never make it out, but they did. Grampa moved too slowly for an eight-year-old scared out of his wits. We got to the track and crammed into the crowd that was flowing towards the performer entrance at the opposite end of the tent from the fire. It was a huge mass of panicked people cramming towards the entrance and safety. I was scared, real scared! At some point, I could not tolerate Grampa’s slow pace and broke loose from his handhold and squeezed and pushed my way through the crowd.
Grampa always said he saw me exit the tent and knew I was safe, but I never figured out how that was possible. I just remember a wall of moving bodies, all pushing and shoving towards the performer entrance. As I approached the exit, I vividly recall looking to my left in disbelief as the band continued to play in the face of such great danger. It was unbelievable to me that they continued to play. I also recall the tent being about half engulfed in flames as I exited it.
Once clear of the tent, my fear did not abate, as I just knew the lions must have escaped their cage and were roaming grounds, I just flowed with the other escapees, following the crowd to a street adjacent to the circus grounds. Not until writing this account has it ever occurred to me that I could have stepped out of the flow and waited to see if my Grampa made it out and reunite with him. As I followed the flow of escapees, I had no idea where we were headed. I was just getting away from the danger and chaos. I can see clearly the towering black flames off to my right. Was I crying? I don’t think so. Was I scared? Badly. I had no idea what to do, and no idea as to the fate of my Grampa.
Somewhere along the way, a man who lived in the neighborhood befriended me. He probably asked me who I was with, and what happened to my Grampa. I don’t recall what he said. Of course, I had no idea whether Grampa had made it out and, if he had, how he would get in contact with me, since he could not speak or hear. I shared this information with the gentleman, who suggested I follow him to his nearby house, then he would go back to look for my Grampa. So I followed him to his house, which was about a block from the circus grounds.
We got there, and I don’t think he knew what to do. The house was empty, and we were standing in the kitchen as I explained to him about my grandfather. He told me to stay there and he would go look for Grampa. So, I stood in the center of kitchen, barely moving, and waited for the man to return. I don’t know how long I waited, but it was scary because I still didn’t know what had happened with the lions.
Eventually the man returned. How long he was gone, I have no idea, but what seemed like a long time probably wasn’t. He took me to a yellow house, adjacent to the circus grounds that was being used as a communication center. It was packed with people milling around, both inside and out. I again explained about my Grampa to someone who seemed to be in charge. I think it was a lady, but I really can’t recall. At any rate, this individual guided me into the house, and either she or I phoned my mom to let her know I was okay. It was a long wait, but I eventually got my turn on the phone. I don’t recall what Mom said, but I am sure she was greatly relieved to hear from me, and concerned about her dad. While waiting for the phone, I encountered a classmate of mine - Eugene Mazo - and his mother. They lived about a half-mile from me. They had a car and offered to take me home with them.
On the trip home, we had to stop by the hospital for some reason. I think Eugene’s grandma had been injured, and Mrs. Mazo wanted to check on her. I do recall the wait in the car was stifling. I was eventually delivered home, safe and sound of body, but with visions of roaming lions. Once home, I recall wandering aimlessly around the neighborhood, talking to other families about the fire and filling them in on what little I knew of my Grampa’s fate. Eventually, my Grampa made it to the same yellow house and wrote a note to someone to have them call home inquiring about me. A great relief to my mother, I am sure. How Grampa got home? I assume he took the bus.
I recall going to bed that night and asking my dad to leave the door open so that there would be light in the room. I lay in bed facing the light afraid to roll over and face the shadows where I knew the lions lurked. I slept facing the light for many years.
As the toll of the fire became known, I learned that a classmate of mine, Judy Berman, was one of the fire’s victim’s, as was Valerie Nogas, an older neighbor girl who lived on the next street from me.