Personal Accounts ~ page 10
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...screaming “Get out Dad! Get Out!” ....
My name is Earl Francis, and at the time of the fire I was 12 years old and resided with my parents at 10 Murray Street in East Hartford. On July 6, 1944, my brother Bill (15) and I took a bus to Hartford where my father, Donald Francis, picked us up to see the circus. Despite being a very hot July day, my dad wore his suit clothes since he came directly from work to take us to the circus. Fortunately he bought 3 reserved seats, where there were fewer people compared to the crowd directly across the tent from us. My father discarded his suit jacket and loosened his tie. It seemed a long time before things started, but gradually the band began its music and we were underway.
The first time I was aware something was happening was when I heard some people screaming across the tent from us. Soon we could see some flames and smoke, and could see people leaving their seats to get down to the circus floor. The flames were increasing, like an expanding circle. On our side of the tent was a wire cage connecting the lion cages outside with one of the performance rings inside. I saw the crowd swarming to get over the wire cage since there was only a narrow step ladder to go up and over the cage. I think they said later that this caused a problem for people trying to get out. My father, a veteran of WW1 having survived two major battles in France, told us to stay calm and do not try to run for the entrance. Finally he told us to go to the top of the seats behind us and get out through the air space. I slid down the tarp and my brother slid down a guy wire. I can place my location pretty well because I landed between two lion cages where two lions were roaring nervously. My father was still in the tent and I was scared, yelling and screaming “Get out Dad! Get Out!” What he was doing inside the tent was throwing people out of the air space opening because they were unable to move, frozen in place. One of these people broke an arm, and later someone with a care took the one who was hurt and the three of us away from the area.
My dad ended up getting out by dropping down inside the tent; his suit jacket was burned up, along with his car keys, and he was badly singed. He was one of the many unsung heroes of that fire. Like any 12-year-old, going home on the bus I was thinking about telling my friends about the big adventure I was in, burying in my mind the screams, the crying, and the smell. One thing haunts me more than anything else, and I have to hold back tears as I write about the incident. A very obese woman hugged me as I stood outside the tent, and she was crying “Where is my baby? Where is my baby? Find my baby!” I like to think that she found her baby, alive and well.
Earl S. Francis
St. Petersburg, Florida
The first time I was aware something was happening was when I heard some people screaming across the tent from us. Soon we could see some flames and smoke, and could see people leaving their seats to get down to the circus floor. The flames were increasing, like an expanding circle. On our side of the tent was a wire cage connecting the lion cages outside with one of the performance rings inside. I saw the crowd swarming to get over the wire cage since there was only a narrow step ladder to go up and over the cage. I think they said later that this caused a problem for people trying to get out. My father, a veteran of WW1 having survived two major battles in France, told us to stay calm and do not try to run for the entrance. Finally he told us to go to the top of the seats behind us and get out through the air space. I slid down the tarp and my brother slid down a guy wire. I can place my location pretty well because I landed between two lion cages where two lions were roaring nervously. My father was still in the tent and I was scared, yelling and screaming “Get out Dad! Get Out!” What he was doing inside the tent was throwing people out of the air space opening because they were unable to move, frozen in place. One of these people broke an arm, and later someone with a care took the one who was hurt and the three of us away from the area.
My dad ended up getting out by dropping down inside the tent; his suit jacket was burned up, along with his car keys, and he was badly singed. He was one of the many unsung heroes of that fire. Like any 12-year-old, going home on the bus I was thinking about telling my friends about the big adventure I was in, burying in my mind the screams, the crying, and the smell. One thing haunts me more than anything else, and I have to hold back tears as I write about the incident. A very obese woman hugged me as I stood outside the tent, and she was crying “Where is my baby? Where is my baby? Find my baby!” I like to think that she found her baby, alive and well.
Earl S. Francis
St. Petersburg, Florida
...kept repeating, “Uncle Marlin, the tent’s on fire”...
It was July 6, 1944 and I was nearly 5 years old. World War II was a presence in everybody's life. We lived in the small town of Berlin, Connecticut and Ringling Brothers, Barnum and Bailey Circus had come to Hartford which was nearby. My mother decided to take my older brother and me to the circus, since she had been invited to do so by Uncle Marlin and Aunt Helen, who were going with their son who was about my brothers age. Uncle Marlin was the local school superintendent and since school was out of session for the summer, he was free to take the day off to drive us in his ’39 Buick with plenty of room for all of us. My father had to work at his job with Travelers Insurance so he could not be with us.
We arrived at the circus grounds and I tagged along in the tight grip of my mother’s hand, shuffling through the wood chips that covered the entire grounds. I was fascinated at all the strange sights, sounds and smells. It’s odd that after all these years, I still remember that smell. I think it must have been a combination of fresh wood chips, cotton candy and elephant dung; not offensive, just new and curious to a small town kid. We sat on the bleachers inside the huge tent. I sat on Uncle Marlin’s lap about half way up the bleachers. My mother and brother were right behind us. Down front and off to the left was the circus band in bright red uniforms, playing patriotic sounding marching tunes. We were near the end of the bleachers where there was, to our right, a tunnel like cage through which the big cats could be brought into the performance ring. There was a lot going on. This was a three-ring circus, “The Greatest Show On Earth.” Big cats were performing, the Walendas were doing their trapeze act and Emmet Kelly and other clowns were doing their routine. Being an excited, curious kid, my eyes were darting all over. Way off on the opposite side of the tent and a bit to the right, I spotted a hole forming in the tent. It seemed to be only a foot or two in diameter and ringed with black charred canvas with flames in the middle. I kept repeating, “Uncle Marlin, the tent’s on fire”, but he didn’t seem to react. The band continued to play “The Stars and Stripes Forever.” (I later learned that this was a distress signal to circus workers) Before too long Uncle Marlin put me up on his shoulders and calmly made his way down the bleachers and out the nearby exit. Meanwhile, my brother made his way up to the top of the bleachers followed by my mother. Being 9 years old it was simple for him to slide down a nearby tent pole, which he did and then urged our mother to follow. She was reluctant but did follow and suffered only a sprained ankle as a result. Once we were outside, Uncle Marlin handed me to a soldier in uniform who put me on his shoulders. In those days, any young man I would see was in some military uniform. By now people were screaming. Uncle Marlin went back inside the tent to pull people out, some alive, some injured and some dead. The main cause of death was suffocation, particularly as people scrambling to get out, piled up against the tunnel like cage used to exit the big cats. Since that was near where we came out, the dead bodies were being laid out there. I don’t remember more about that day. My mother said that when they got back to the car, I was there. Somehow that soldier, who was a total stranger, knew where to take me.
My father while at work, quickly got word of the fire. Travelers tower was the tallest building in Hartford. He took the elevator to the tower. From there he could see the enormous fire and knew that his entire family was in it. I can’t imagine how he felt. Fortunately, we were all okay, except for Mom’s sprained ankle. I was too young to be emotionally traumatized by it. I’ve never heard my brother even mention it. My mother was, as usual, strong on the outside. A few years after she had a streak of white hair through the middle of her scalp which was evidently caused by the emotional stress. My mother claims that for years I was terrified to go into a tent. I don’t recall that, but I have to this day a great fear of crowds.
— Wendell Noble
We arrived at the circus grounds and I tagged along in the tight grip of my mother’s hand, shuffling through the wood chips that covered the entire grounds. I was fascinated at all the strange sights, sounds and smells. It’s odd that after all these years, I still remember that smell. I think it must have been a combination of fresh wood chips, cotton candy and elephant dung; not offensive, just new and curious to a small town kid. We sat on the bleachers inside the huge tent. I sat on Uncle Marlin’s lap about half way up the bleachers. My mother and brother were right behind us. Down front and off to the left was the circus band in bright red uniforms, playing patriotic sounding marching tunes. We were near the end of the bleachers where there was, to our right, a tunnel like cage through which the big cats could be brought into the performance ring. There was a lot going on. This was a three-ring circus, “The Greatest Show On Earth.” Big cats were performing, the Walendas were doing their trapeze act and Emmet Kelly and other clowns were doing their routine. Being an excited, curious kid, my eyes were darting all over. Way off on the opposite side of the tent and a bit to the right, I spotted a hole forming in the tent. It seemed to be only a foot or two in diameter and ringed with black charred canvas with flames in the middle. I kept repeating, “Uncle Marlin, the tent’s on fire”, but he didn’t seem to react. The band continued to play “The Stars and Stripes Forever.” (I later learned that this was a distress signal to circus workers) Before too long Uncle Marlin put me up on his shoulders and calmly made his way down the bleachers and out the nearby exit. Meanwhile, my brother made his way up to the top of the bleachers followed by my mother. Being 9 years old it was simple for him to slide down a nearby tent pole, which he did and then urged our mother to follow. She was reluctant but did follow and suffered only a sprained ankle as a result. Once we were outside, Uncle Marlin handed me to a soldier in uniform who put me on his shoulders. In those days, any young man I would see was in some military uniform. By now people were screaming. Uncle Marlin went back inside the tent to pull people out, some alive, some injured and some dead. The main cause of death was suffocation, particularly as people scrambling to get out, piled up against the tunnel like cage used to exit the big cats. Since that was near where we came out, the dead bodies were being laid out there. I don’t remember more about that day. My mother said that when they got back to the car, I was there. Somehow that soldier, who was a total stranger, knew where to take me.
My father while at work, quickly got word of the fire. Travelers tower was the tallest building in Hartford. He took the elevator to the tower. From there he could see the enormous fire and knew that his entire family was in it. I can’t imagine how he felt. Fortunately, we were all okay, except for Mom’s sprained ankle. I was too young to be emotionally traumatized by it. I’ve never heard my brother even mention it. My mother was, as usual, strong on the outside. A few years after she had a streak of white hair through the middle of her scalp which was evidently caused by the emotional stress. My mother claims that for years I was terrified to go into a tent. I don’t recall that, but I have to this day a great fear of crowds.
— Wendell Noble
...crowds pushing to the jammed exit...
1944 photo of Mona
I am Mona Williams Brown, now 94, living in a retirement home in Fayetteville, Arkansas. My oldest daughter, Linda Brown, lives nearby. In 1944, my home with my parents in New Jersey was difficult as my older brother was unfortunately beginning to show signs of his adolescent onset schizophrenia, so I was sent to live with my beloved maternal grandparents in Andover, Connecticut - with no indoor plumbing! I attended school in Andover, a three room building, “boys” and “girls” outhouses, and three grades to a room. As i had gone to a public school in a university town, I was ahead academically. In the 7th grade, my desk was moved to the 8th grade row, and I spoke at graduation.
A girlfriend, whose name I no longer remember, and I went to Hartford to attend the circus, possibly by train. Inside the tent we sat as best remembered on the south side of the big top. As the fire came up the sides of the big top and then overhead, we saw the crowds pushing to the jammed exit. No way were we going to do that! We decided to try for an alternative way out, not knowing of any! Down we went, out a back opening to an enclosed walkway. To the left, not 15 feet along that back passage was a flap opening, and out we went. There were almost no people outside there.
The only thing I remember as we moved forward was a man with a long (perhaps 12-15 feet) rope which collared a big male lion. Fun, interesting company! I don’t remember many others exiting; we were outside of the tent after successfully taking our chances. Safe, we went to a neighborhood house and asked if we could call our families. I don’t remember how we got back to Andover, perhaps we took the train again.
To this day, I cannot be near open fires. In my 15 years in a Minneapolis home with a fireplace, I, at most, used it 3 or 4 times. And I am lucky to now, as a single person, to have a large open apartment. I’m OK in, for example, an elevator or similar enclosure, but those are temporary. Otherwise I cannot be enclosed.
I wonder why a circus public announcement about avoiding the main entrance/exit wasn’t broadcast? Perhaps there wasn’t the means to so inform? I also wonder how that purported fire starter, a youth, dealt with this catastrophic disaster? I hope OK. Let us all learn from this tragic event.
— Mona Williams Brown
August, 2024
A girlfriend, whose name I no longer remember, and I went to Hartford to attend the circus, possibly by train. Inside the tent we sat as best remembered on the south side of the big top. As the fire came up the sides of the big top and then overhead, we saw the crowds pushing to the jammed exit. No way were we going to do that! We decided to try for an alternative way out, not knowing of any! Down we went, out a back opening to an enclosed walkway. To the left, not 15 feet along that back passage was a flap opening, and out we went. There were almost no people outside there.
The only thing I remember as we moved forward was a man with a long (perhaps 12-15 feet) rope which collared a big male lion. Fun, interesting company! I don’t remember many others exiting; we were outside of the tent after successfully taking our chances. Safe, we went to a neighborhood house and asked if we could call our families. I don’t remember how we got back to Andover, perhaps we took the train again.
To this day, I cannot be near open fires. In my 15 years in a Minneapolis home with a fireplace, I, at most, used it 3 or 4 times. And I am lucky to now, as a single person, to have a large open apartment. I’m OK in, for example, an elevator or similar enclosure, but those are temporary. Otherwise I cannot be enclosed.
I wonder why a circus public announcement about avoiding the main entrance/exit wasn’t broadcast? Perhaps there wasn’t the means to so inform? I also wonder how that purported fire starter, a youth, dealt with this catastrophic disaster? I hope OK. Let us all learn from this tragic event.
— Mona Williams Brown
August, 2024
More stories can be found in the ESSAYS section.