By chance I happened to locate this web page. I was a sixth grade student at the school on that horrible day. As I remember we were the first class out of the building. The events as I recollect were as follows: Just prior to dismissal for the day, two classmates, who were the designated waste basket monitors, returned to our second floor classroom telling Mrs. Coughlin that "when they went to the boiler room to empty the waste baskets, the janitor encountered them yelling "get out, the building was on fire"". Mrs. Coughlin immediately instructed us to leave the building in accordance with our fire drill practice, which was to exit down the stairwell in the building's south wing and continue to the street corner in front of the church. When we exited the classroom, the smoke was very intense which to this day leads me to believe that we were very lucky. The smoke must not have been present at the moment the two classmates returned to our classroom after their encounted with the janitor. As we moved toward the stairwell, we were able to see through the windows accross the courtyard separating the north and south wings. The north wing was totally engulfed in fire. Ironically, as we moved down the stairs to the first floor south wing, the nun in the classroom immediately to the east of the stairwell we were exiting was still teaching as if nothing was wrong. We proceeded as instructed and trained to the designated street corner, but no other classes were following us...we were the only ones out of the building. I remember to this day the horror on Mrs. Coughlin's face as she ran back into the building ostensibly to notify other faculty of the situation. Shorly there after, I remeber hearing the fire bells. I can only assume that Mrs. Coughlin actuated these devices. We were standing there, and as instructed during fire drill, continued facing away from the school. I remeber another adult coming up to us and telling us to go home. As I was leaving, I turned to look back at the school, and all I remember is the smoke and people jumping from the second floor. Surely, I was too young to realize the magnitude of the disaster, but I proceeded to the dry cleaning store my parents operated on the corener of Division St. and Lawndale, and informed my mother that "the school was on fire and they sent us home". She immediately ran out of the store, and I found out later ran to the school. Eight of my cousins and my sister were also attending the school. Most were in smaller facilities away from the main building used for kindergarten and pre-school classes. I fould out later that many of the students were brought in out of the cold by people living near the school. Many of the students must of been in shock because some couldn't remember their phone numbers (mostly the younger ones)which made it very diffult and time consuming to reunite them with their parents. One of my cousins, who I belive was in first grade at the time, wasn't located until six or seven o'clock that evening. The events of December 1, 1958 are in my memory like it was yesterday. Over the years, these memories have been brought into focus for a number of reasons. Just living in the neighborhood and being the first graduating class from the new OLA School provided a daily reminder in the early years after the tragedy. When attending Weber High School, some of my classmates were siblings of students lost. I also belonged to a local Drum and Bugle Corps, the Royal Airs who, to this day, dedicate all it's performaces in rememberance of the tragedy and the three members of the group that perished in the fire. And finally, years later, I was hired as a salesman with ADT Security Systems, a company that specializes in electronic protection systems, particularly fire alarms. The first bit of ADT training materials handed to us was pictures of the OLA fire. I am still in this industry, and every time I think about fire protection systems I remember the OLA School Fire. If what I know now was implemented then, this never would have happened. But that was then, and now is now. I'll never forget.
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