Through film, the past is an era of glitz and glamour and all that dazzle sometimes blinds us to the underbelly of the beast, the unfortunate truth that all is not as beautiful as it seems. The Cocoanut Grove was the place to dance, drink, and be merry. During prohibition, it was a speakeasy (one of 4000 in Boston-with 4 on the same street as a police station). When alcohol was legal again, and, when the club changed ownership, it was a swanky, tropical nightclub destined for expansion and profit. Unfortunately, despite laws put in place that could have prevented the disastrous effects, this once beautiful nightclub turned into charred remains and the final resting ground of nearly five hundred people. It began with a young man wanting a bit of privacy with his young lady. When he turned the light bulb above him off, another was ordered to fix the light. He used a match to facilitate this. Though it has never been confirmed, this match ignited a fire that would race through the basement club up to its main dining and dance floor, through to the additional lounge, and even out the front revolving doors. Even quicker than the fire was the buildup of smoke, the rising temperatures, and rightly so, the tide of panic.
As John Esposito outlines the timeline, a scant eight minutes, he peppers through just enough individual stories that do not overwhelm the reader but certainly pull on the heartstrings. A famous actor, a recently married couple (3 hours), a newly dating couple, a husband and wife, a hero who went back only to die on his last attempt, those who survived but left a loved one behind...all were heartbreaking narratives in this book. No one went to the club that night concerned that it was always packed. No one went suspecting this could end in disaster. Some, like the actor, were forced to go because it was a party, a celebration, or their job. What is even more tragic is that the level of devastation did not need to be so high. There were laws in place that mandated multiple exits and flame resistant materials. But, when greed and avarice and bribery work hand in hand, sometimes laws are simply ignored. All the exits, save but three, were locked and/or obscured with tables, chairs, and coatracks. Of those, only two were known to the public. Of those two, none were easy to use in a crowd of panicking individuals. One opened inward, the other a revolving door. The windows were all covered with fabric. The materials were not flame resistant. One man refused to unlock the doors without his boss' approval. The electrical wiring was faulty. There were no fusible doors. The licensing was not kept up to date by inspectors who simply signed them without actually doing their jobs.
Amazingly enough, there were stories of courage and survival. Several survived in a freezer. A few escaped from windows. Others found extra hidden doors. One peed on a napkin and used that damp cloth to fight against the smoke. A little boy used ice cream to cool himself down. For those who did initially survive, shock, septicemia, and edema would cause later death. Survivor's guilt, depression, and even suicide occurred. A twist of fate for some as well existed. Clifford Johnson endured hundreds of skin grafts and nearly two years of surgery and therapy only to die 15 years later in a fiery car crash. How does this happen!?!
In the end, Massachusetts drafted even more stringent laws and did convict the owner Barney Welansky of negligence, which according to the author was significant. It set the precedent for charging someone with involuntary manslaughter based on the premise that any reasonable person would find their behavior not only negligent but reckless in taking care of its patrons. But, to compound the grief and destruction, Barney was barely insured. Those who sued received $150 while the government claimed over $100,000 in taxes. This wealthy enterprise dwindled to a scant $200,000 worth. You cannot measure a life but $150 would not cover funeral costs, etc. Furthermore, Barney suffered from cancer not too long after and only served a few years of his fifteen year term (he was convicted on 20 counts and sentenced to 15 years each to be served concurrently).
Unfortunately, these tragedies still take place in our country and around the world. While the laws and enforcement seem better today, things still happen, as evidenced by the author's use of the 2003 Rhode Island club fire and Chicago club fire. As the author ends with, "The toughest codes are meaningless unless they are enforced competently, honestly, and free of political interference," and, might I add, if the bottom line was not the dollar bill and facility owners merely followed the law because it was the RIGHT thing to do, because a human life is worth more than any final profit margin.
The author did an amazing job of telling this story, making it stirring and thought provoking while avoiding, as best he could, being macabre.
P.S. In June, 1945, someone broke into the Grove and stole a hidden safe. What was in it? Who did it?
Favorite lines:
As quoted, p71
"An individual in a crowd is a grain of sand amid other grains of sand, which the wind stirs up at will."
Gustave Le Bon
Regarding the origin of Panic
p72
"Panic means...human beings behaving like animals. The word is derived from "Pan," the mythological part-human, part-animal god of the forests and wild animals. Ugly and feral, Pan is the antithesis of the sublimely beautiful Apollo, god of the "civilized qualities of culture and sophistication."