Flower in the River: A Family Tale Finally Told

From the Iroquois to the Eastland: One Firefighter, Two Catastrophes

• Natalie Zett • Season 4 • Episode 154

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A single obituary opened a door to two of Chicago’s most haunting tragedies: the Iroquois Theatre Fire (1903) and the Eastland Disaster (1915). We trace the life of Charles C. Morgan, a Chicago Fire Department truckman who assisted with both tragedies. Along the way, we connect the Iroquois Theater fire and the Eastland disaster, explore what firefighters faced on the line, and surface the reforms that reshaped public safety — outward-opening doors, marked exits, stronger fire curtains, and real drills. These were hard-won lessons paid for in lives, and Morgan was there for both reckonings.

I share the clips that established Morgan’s record: a smoke-filled hotel rescue, a glass-shattered hand, and the commendation that followed Eastland. Then we zoom out to the sources themselves. One early historical organization, the Eastland Memorial Society, built a meticulous online record linking these two events and preserving survivor testimony. That careful, credited work still informs how many understand Chicago disaster history. But after the Society closed, their work appeared elsewhere, often without attribution. When that happens, the source trail frays, and future researchers lose the ability to verify and build.

This episode blends genealogy, local history, and archival ethics. We talk about why a truck company’s technical craft mattered in both fire and water, how an “absolutely fireproof” promise unraveled in minutes, and why footnotes are not fussy add-ons but the backbone of honest storytelling. Morgan’s path reminds us that courage is rarely a single act; it’s a practiced skill applied under pressure, time after time.

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Natalie Zett:

Hello, I'm Natalie Zett, and welcome to Flower in the River. This podcast, inspired by my book of the same name, explores the 1915 Eastland disaster in Chicago and its enduring impact, particularly on my family's history. We'll explore the intertwining narratives of others impacted by this tragedy as well. And we'll dive into writing and genealogy and uncover the surprising supernatural elements that surface in family history research. Come along with me on this journey of discovery. Hey, this is Natalie, and welcome to episode 154 of Flower in the River Podcast. I hope you're doing well. So this week I want to share a biography of yet another overlooked person of the Eastland Disaster. And this is a very special person. They're all special, but this is a very unique person because not only was this individual a part of the Eastland Disaster Rescue, he was also part of an earlier tragedy called the Iroquois Theater Fire. I will share his obituary with you. Charles C Morgan Services for Charles C. Morgan seventy nine, retired lieutenant of the Chicago Fire Department will be held at ten AM Wednesday in Our Lady of Mount Carmel Church, six hundred ninety two Belmont Avenue. Burial will be in Saint Joseph's Cemetery. mister Morgan died Sunday in his home at six hundred ten Wellington Avenue. He was a fireman at the Iroquois Theater Fire and received an award for his rescue work during the Eastland disaster. Surviving are his widow, Elizabeth, three daughters, Mrs. Joseph Battersby, Mrs. Coston Karonowitz, and Mrs. Leo Gross, a son, James W. and sixteen grandchildren. I wanted to know more about Charles Morgan, and I bet you do too, because here's a guy who ran toward the flames in the Iroquois Theater in 1903 and later pulled people from the Chicago River in 1915. And by no means was that all he did. He made the papers a lot in Chicago during that time period for his acts of heroism. The most important thing to me though is that his obituary, which clearly links him to both tragedies, was sitting there in the Chicago Tribune the whole time. All anyone had to do is research it. So let's talk about Charles Morgan. He was listed in the Fire Marshall's Report of 1903. This was published in Chicago. He was a truck man for the Hook and Ladder Company, number three, located at 177 East Erie Street, Chicago. Here's what I learned about firefighting during that time. The individuals assigned to the truck, the people who were called truckmen, had some of the most dangerous jobs at a building fire. This is an article by Mick Mayers. He wrote that a truck company is an oft-maligned team of individuals on the fire ground. The truckee is a firefighter assigned to the truck company. It's made out to be a knuckle-dragging lout, more inclined to smash a hole in a wall rather than use a door. In actuality, the individuals assigned to the truck have some of the most dangerous jobs at a building fire. And the technical knowledge that a truckee must have to do their job well makes them suited for advancement into the special forces of the fire service, the rescue company. So obviously he was moving up the ranks. And he's mentioned in various other news accounts as well. This one is from the Daily Herald in Chicago, January 1st, 1915, so just a few months before the Eastland disaster. A lot of the type is smudged, but I'll read what I can make out from this paragraph. Here's the article. Charles Morgan was overcome by smoke in a fire that attacked the working men's hotel, a cheap lodging house. A score of rumors fled from the building in their night clothing and were taken care of at a neighboring hotel. The next article is older and it is from Chicago Examiner, August 12th, 1902. Headline: two are injured at fire. Firemen cut by glass and woman pushed into basement. Two persons, a woman spectator and a fireman, were injured last night during a fire of unknown origin, which broke out on the third floor of a four-story brick building at 196 Michigan Street, Charles E. Morgan, 38 years old, 153 Hill Street, a fireman, was cut on his right hand by falling glass when his comrades broke in a window on the fourth floor. He was taken to the Passavant Hospital by the police of the Chicago Avenue Station. Mrs. Ida Wheeler, 45 years old, 88 Dearborn Avenue, was watching the fire when she was pushed down a flight of stairs into a basement. Her right wrist was broken, and her right shoulder was badly sprained. And here's a brief biography for Charles C. Morgan. He was born in Chicago on June 23, 1872, and he died March 19, 1950, in Chicago. He was born to James Morgan and Margaret Farrell, both of whom, depending on the census that you look at, may have been born in Ireland or Chicago. He had at least 11 siblings. And he married Elizabeth Agnes Cain, who died in 1958, and they had the following children Francis, James, Mary, and Evelyn. Also, Charles was a veteran, but I'm not sure when and where he served. And I am sorry that I don't have any photos of him or the family. At least not yet. I'll keep looking. You never know what will pop up. For those who may not be acquainted with the Iroquois Theater Fire, I will share an article that originally appeared on a website called the Eastland Memorial Society. And I'll tell you more about them. They were actually the first website devoted to the Eastland disaster. They were also the first ones to link the people who were part of the Iroquois Theater Fire and people who later were part of the Eastland disaster. That in and of itself is fascinating. But remember, they were first, and I'll tell you how the stories travel down the line, but the credit didn't necessarily travel in the same way. But let's hear the story of the Iroquois Theater Fire so you know what we're talking about. This is from the website of the Eastland Memorial Society, no longer in existence, copyright 1998 through 2001, let that sink in, how long ago this was, and I access this from the Internet Archive. Headline Iroquois Theater Fire Quote The screams of the children for their mothers and mothers for their children I shall carry in my memory to my dying day. Frank Slaussen, Secretary Treasurer of the Bane Wagon Works, Survivor. It is difficult to present the tragedy of the Eastland disaster within the historical perspective of the city of Chicago without also bringing focus on the Iroquois theater fire, as there are many similarities between these two catastrophes. In both cases, mostly women and children were killed in a situation that should have been filled with joy and celebration. Each tragedy killed their victims within minutes, many from those trying desperately to avoid their own demise, and in both disasters, the families of the victims received no restitution or compensation. It was a chilly Wednesday, December 30th, 1903. Downtown Chicago had been hit squarely with the icy fist of winter. People hurried about their day, filled with dreams and hopes of what the coming year would bring. The past year had been plagued with numerous strikes, economic depression, and ever-increasing crime. Children were out of school for the holidays, and looking forward to an enjoyable matinee performance at the newest theater in town. The Iroquois Theater. In fact, the six-story tall Iroquois had only been open for five weeks and was described as a magnificent palace of marble and mahogany, a virtual temple of beauty, and had been advertised as, quote-unquote, absolutely fireproof. The theater was equipped with an asbestos curtain, which could be lowered to separate the audience from any fire on stage. Located at 2428 West Randolph Street, between State and Dearborn, the theater could seat 1,724 customers. But today's matinee, 1900 people filled the theater to standing room only capacity to see vaudeville comedian Eddie Foy, Annabelle Whitford, and a performance troupe of 500 in the musical comedy Mr. Bluebeard. Foy, ridiculously dressed in drag, kept the audience laughing happily through the frolicking first act. After a short intermission, Joseph Delia's pit orchestra struck up the first bars of a tune called In the Pale Moonlight, as the second act started about 3.15 p.m. with the chorus on stage singing and dancing. Out of sight, suspended by ropes high above the stage, were thousands of square feet of painted canvas scenery flats. On a catwalk, amid the scenery, stagehand William McMullen saw a bit of the canvas brush against a hot reflector behind a calcium arc spotlight. A tiny flame erupted. McMullen tried to crush it out with his hand, but it was two inches beyond his reach. Quickly the fire spread. The on duty fireman tried desperately to stop the blaze, but was only equipped with two tubes of a patent powder called Kilfrees, which was completely ineffective on the fire. Foy had just walked on stage when an overhead light shorted and sparked, splashing rivulets of fire onto a velvet curtain and flammable props. When a bit of burning scenery fell among the singers, they fled from the stage in a rush. The orchestra played on as Foy ran to the footlights and tried to calm the crowd. Everything is under control, he said, just as a mass of burning debris fell at his feet. He shouted to the stage manager to drop the theater's asbestos curtain. To his horror, the protective curtain snagged a projecting light fixture and jammed in its wooden tracks. The frightened singers and dancers waiting backstage fled from the stage door at the rear of the theater. That singular act sealed the Iroquois doom. The sudden draught of icy air rushed in through the open door, billowing the flames under the partially lowered asbestos curtain. The fireball reached over the heads of those on the first floor, like the arm of a demon spanning the fifty foot gap to the balconies. Everything combustible ignited instantly. With one accord the audience made a rush to the doors. A sort of cyclone came from behind, Foy reported, and there seemed to be an explosion. As the stage started collapsing, the audience bolted for the twenty seven exits, only to find many of them with iron gates covering them. Some of the gates were locked, while others were unlocked, but opening them required operation of a small lever of a type unfamiliar to most theater patrons. Other doors opened inwards. Those in front were trampled and crushed against the doors by the onrush of humanity. In darkness, the living clawed over the bodies piled ten high around doors and windows, especially in the stairwell area exits from the balcony to the main floor. Other fatalities occurred as the fire broke out underneath an alley fire escape, causing people above the fire to jump. The first to jump died as they hit the hard pavement. Later jumpers landed on the bodies and survived. Patrons also jumped from the balcony to the main floor of the theater with the same effect. Within fifteen minutes it was all over. By the time firefighters arrived, the auditorium was silent. Firemen snuffed out the blaze within half an hour, but hope did not survive. Five hundred and seventy-five were dead, at least twenty-seven more would die from their injuries. Families were devastated and torn apart, women and children suffering the most. Among the 500 performers and backstage personnel, only the tightrope artists caught high above the stage died. A temporary morgue was set up nearby to allow friends and relatives to identify the victims. Many of the victims were buried in Montrose, Forest Home, and Graceland Cemeteries in Chicago. The Iroquois Fire, with 602 casualties, was the deadliest blaze in Chicago history, second in the United States and fourth worldwide. In the United States, the disaster was unmatched, even of the Great Chicago Fire of 1871, which killed 250, or the 1942 Coconut Grove nightclub blaze in Boston, which claimed 490 lives. The coroner's inquest began within a week. Over 200 witnesses testified. It was a national sensation, exposing unbelievable laxity on the part of the theater and city officials charged with public safety. Hearings revealed that the complimentary tickets motivated city inspectors to ignore the fire code and let the theater open. Theater principals, building owners, Chicago Mayor Carter H. Harrison, and others were indicted, but those cases were eventually dismissed on technicalities. The only person to serve a jail term was a tavern keeper, whose nearby saloon was used as a temporary morgue. He was convicted of robbing the dead. None of the injured survivors or victims' relatives ever collected a cent of damages. Mayor Harrison shut down 170 theaters, halls, and churches for a month's long reinspection that left 6,000 people unemployed. Under the new laws, the fire code was changed to require theater doors to open outwards, to have exits clearly marked, and fire curtains made of steel. Also, theater management were now required to practice fire drills with ushers and theater personnel. The Iroquois, which sustained only light interior damage, was repaired and reopened less than a year later as the Colonial Theater. In 1926, it was torn down to make way for the Oriental Theater. That's the end of the article, and it was written again by the Eastland Memorial Society. And they have eight footnotes where they got their information from. This is very important. Here's the origin story of the Eastland Memorial Society as I remember it, because yes, I was there early on as well. If you were around in the late 1990s, you'll remember that the internet or the world wide web as it was known was new, and most of us were really excited about it. We too wanted to learn how to work with it to build these things called websites. So there was a woman, an aficionado of Great Lakes shipping disasters, and she set up what still appears to be the very first website devoted to the Eastland disaster. This woman, Mary Bonneville, was a fine writer and an excellent and ethical researcher. And thanks to her work back then and even now, I was able to get at least a high-level understanding of what the Eastland disaster was all about. And since it was new information to me and it affected my family, it took a while emotionally for me to catch up with it. At some point, this woman partnered with someone else, and together they evolved from a solo website endeavor into an organization called the Eastland Memorial Society. And they seem solid, they seem good, they seem strong, and again, incredible amounts of information, still one of the best websites ever about the Eastland disaster, even after all these years. The organization is no longer in existence, and the website has not been updated probably since the early 2000s, but the website is still accessible on the Internet Archive, and it is still a source of wonderful information about the Eastland disaster. And page by page, I have been reconstructing their website and adding it to my website, of course, with proper attribution. And just this week I updated my website to include the Eastland Memorial Society's page that features the Iroquois Theater Fire. And I also want to make sure that this organization, although it is no longer in business, gets the credit it deserves for being the first to document the history of the Eastland disaster on the internet. I've been doing this podcast and along with the podcast, very deep research for nearly three years now. And just for fun, I think I should feed all of my podcast transcripts into some kind of chatbot. Just to count how many times I have said throughout the three years, the provenance is gone for this photo, or the attribution for this quote is missing. I bet it would be a big number. And I also think that that chatbot would either blow up or beg for mercy. And I'm bringing that up because it leads into something else that I discovered when I was doing my research for this podcast episode. This is a good place to stop and do a recap. Yes, there's going to be some repetition, only because there's so much going on with this. When I began this episode's research, I expected to share a simple, straightforward biography of yet another life left out of the popular Eastland disaster retellings. Instead, as you hear, it became complicated almost immediately. And the reason this individual, Charles Morgan, was tied not just to one tragedy, but two, the Iroquois theater fire and the Eastland disaster. And then the research took yet another turn. As I was digging through sources, I revisited the old Eastland Memorial Society website and saw that it was likely the first place to clearly connect these two tragedies in a single narrative. And then as I continued my research, I saw other websites that featured the Iroquois Theater Fire, and they were all different, all original. But then I saw another website. And that website also had a story of the Iroquois Theater Fire, and it used nearly the identical wording from the Eastland Memorial Society's website. If there was a footnote or attribution mentioning the Eastland Memorial Society's website as the source, I did not see it. And the copyright for this particular website is 2022 to 2023. Who knows? Maybe it was an oversight. Maybe the footnote packed a bag and wandered off. It's really hard to tell what happened here, but it's interesting to note. And I'm sharing all of this for a couple of reasons. First of all, I want it on the record that it has been noted. Second, this fits a pattern, another pattern that I've seen. Back on October 30th, 2025, I published an episode called The Afterlife of a Story. You'll have to listen to that one for the full backstory. But it involved the same kind of situation. Material that originally appeared on the Eastland Memorial Society's website that later showed up elsewhere, with the attribution and source citations removed. Different wording here and there, but essentially the same story. So part of our work as genealogists, researchers, public historians is making sure we tell people where we got our information from, so those who come after us can continue the research. And also we want to do this because we want to honor the people whose shoulders we stand on, the people who did the work in the first place. So we'll continue next week with more long lost biographies. In the meantime, please take care of yourselves, take care of each other, and the new way we say goodbye in Minnesota is stay safe. So I'll extend that to you as well. Please stay safe. Talk to you next week. Please subscribe or follow so you can keep up with all the episodes. And for more information, please go to my website. That's www.flowerinthher.com. I hope you'll consider buying my book available as audiobook, ebook, paperback, and hardcover because I still owe people money, and that's my running joke. But the one thing I'm serious about is that this podcast and my book are dedicated to the memory of all who experienced the Eastland disaster of nineteen fifteen. Goodbye for now.

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Natalie Zett

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