I was in grade 4 in Room 210 with Sr. Serraphica at the time of the fire. We all smelled smoke, and kept interrupting the lesson to tell the nun, but she dismissed it as "burning leaves" which was allowed at that time. Then the smell kept getting stronger, but within two minutes of our first noticing the smell, their was thick dark itense smoke pouring in over the transom. We all gasped and she ordered us to stand up and pray the rosary. She went to the back door of the classroom and pushed it open, but the fire gases blew this door open very hard and it pushed her against the back wall. We all gasped as we were so used to being in control. We all lost control at that point, stopped praying and ran for the windows. The nun ordered the bigger boys in our room to lower the upper windows. I saw her waving her hands and trying to hush us down. Everyone was screaming, crying and pounding on the window sills asking for help, crying for their mommies. The people on the pavement included mothers, the grocery store owner from across the alley we were facing and they were telling us not to jump, the firemen would be coming soon. My best friend, Janet Gasetier, came up to me. She was crying and her skin was full of red and white blotches, she screamed to me, "Charlene, Charlene, I'm so scared!" and I don't even remember saying anything, crying or screaming at all, as I was totally numb. I felt like I was in a nightmare, and I seemed to be disconnecting to reality. I kept remembering the commercials over the summer that said "if your're drowning, don't panic" and I kept saying that to myself. I could see Room 212 on one side of me that had the fifth graders just as hysterical as we were. I could also see Room 208 which had the sixth graders on the other side of our room, also hysterical. The other rooms had some boys that were now jumping out of the windows. I remember thinking that I wished I was older and bigger, but I wasn't. I saw many of the adults on the pavement praying the rosary, kneeling, crying, screaming and pulling their hair out in hysteria. The pavement looked like a war zone to me, with many of the window jumpers covered with blood. I noticed that the ones who jumped were either laying very still on the pavement, which I read as a little child would, "just resting". I also noticed that some of the window jumpers were propped up against the opposite side of the alley with blood streaming down their faces, and that some of them were talking to each other--this gave me the idea that you could jump and be ok. I also spotted one of my former neighbors, Johanna Uting, laying face down on the pavement, but as she turned around, I could see her leg was split completely open and covered with blood. As I looked down at her I knew that if she could do it, I could do it, too. I took off my glasses and threw them down on the pavement below, and wished that I could be where my glasses were. I was now choking and coughing from the smoke and so was everyone else. I was having trouble breathing, so I felt I had to get out. I started to climb up on the window sill, but each time I tried, a group of boys behind me grabbed my blouse and legs and pulled me back in telling me not to jump as I would hurt myself. I remember the firemen coming and the ladders were put in the other classroom windows first, and everyone was pounding and screaming for them to put the ladders in our windows, but some of the ladders were too short anyways. Everyone cheered when they saw the firemen pulling up as they assumed they would rescue all of us.
Finally, I got up on the window sill and kicked backwards and wiggled away from the boys who tried to stop me, I had to fight to get out of that window. I climbed up on the outer ledge of the window and remember standing straight up. At that point, I either passed out or jumped as I went into shock. My grandmother came to get me and kept screaming my name as she said there were so many bodies she could not see mine. As she called my name, I answered her with "Grandma, I am here!" yet I was still in shock and do not remember saying that. I started to gain consciousness when she and two other young women were carrying me to her car and layed me in the back seat. I remember the two women crying and saying "the poor dear." My grandmother was crying, swearing and praying in Polish. She drove to our house and into the grocery store, Sally's, on Thomas and Springfield that was next door. She left the back door of the car open and ran inside the house to phone my mom at work. The owners of the store, Stanley and Sally, and the customers as well, walked into the back door area of the car and peered in at me. When my grandmother came out, Stanley told her not to drive as she was too hysterical, and he got in the car to drive. She was in the front seat with him. Stanley drove very fast and was pulled over by a policman who scolded him for driving too fast. My grandmother and Stanley screamed out that there had been a school fire and that there will be others rushing to hospitals. He then told them never to drive that way or they would kill all of us. He then put on his siren and escorted us to the hospital. At the hospital, they pulled up a stretcher by the car and the nurses and orderlies started to pull me out of the back seat, this is when I had my first feeling of huge pain. I screamed as they got me on the stretcher, and rushed me into the x-ray room where they started to cut my uniform off with scissors. My mother came in, as the doctor asked me where did I feel pain, and I screamed out, "MY BACK!!" and my mother got hysterical at this point, and they escorted her from the room. After x-rays, they wheeled me up to a room and I was not to eat or drink, but my throat was so dry and rough and I kept begging for water. They let my aunt who was crying and praying a rosary blot my lips with a wet washrag, and I kept trying to suck the water out. I was told I was on the critical list, and a priest came in and gave me the last rites. I knew it was the last rites as we had been drilled on what it was at our school. I was not allowed to turn on my side and told to just lay completely flat on my back which I felt was very uncomfortable without any pillow. I had to remain that way, with head traction and weights pulling my head upwards and with a towel rolled under my spine for three months. During that time, I also had many problems with my intestinal system (probably from lying around so much)that was treated with enemas, which were painful. Because I was at Norwegian American Hospital and not in one of the other hospitals that most of the fire victims went to, I did not get all of the gifts and cards that the others were reported to get. My mother called the newspaper and they published two articles in the Sun-Times and then I got 7,000 cards and gifts the first week alone from around the whole world. The second week I got 4,000 and it kept coming. It eventually took us two years to read and sort through it all, but it kept me busy and distracted at least.
I remember one woman, named Mary Martin, who actually sent me a present a day, who lived in Kalamzoo, Michigan. Also, Jim Moran, the courtesy motors man, who had a car business in our neighborhood, invited all of the fire victims to a gathering where Cisco Kid was there and we had box lunches of fried chicken and then a shriner carried me up a flight of stairs to see the circus. He also offered to buy us anything we wanted--and my grandmother wanted me to ask for a stereo unit, which was expensive in those days, so I did.
Anyways, I got out of the hospital the end of February with sitting in a wheelchair and a body cast that covered from my entire torso, but I still had to lay in bed most of the time or sit with the traction device strapped on. I was sent one of the lay teachers to tutor me and they had a group of us which included Teresa Whittaker and Frank Della who came to my home for summer school lessons. I remember seeing how badly burnt they were, and since I was the one not walking they had to come to my home. That summer we were linked to another small group who were being tutored by another teacher, Ms. Coughlin--my teacher was Ms. Tristano. We all got together for a barbeque at Ms. Coughlin's home. All of the fire victims were invited to a special summer overnight camp, but I could not go as I could not walk, so my cousin went for me, and I remember crying about that one. I continued to have nightmares and would wake up for about the next four years drenched in soaking sweat and had to have my pajamas changed each night in the middle of the night. I had one episode where I saw a shadow move across our front door, and started screaming that it was a fire. My mother got me in the car and drove me to a doctor who never even saw me and perscribed tranquilizers. I was moved to my grandmother's flat which was on the first floor of our two-flat. I felt better on the first floor as I figured I would not have to jump so far if anything were to happen. After 7 months of the body cast and wheelchair, I was put in a torso brace that allowed to handle some walking. I still could not get up stairs, and had to go to Immaculate Conception School because they had an elevator. I still, emotionally, could not handle going into schools, and my mother had to sit in the office everyday to help me transition to being in a school. Eventually she just kept leaving the school for short breaks, and then stopped coming. On our first fire drill, one little boy in back of me kept teasing me and telling me it was a real fire, and I got hysterical until the nun stopped him and comforted me with telling me it wasn't real. I returned to Our Lady of the Angels when the new school was built and I was in the sixth grade. Every fire drill made my heart beat very fast and I felt a sense of panic each time. It took me many years to be able to talk about the fire. After meeting my husband at age 19, I did not tell him about the fire until three years later. I also wanted to completely disconnect myself from that fire and remember I avoided talking to the other fire victims who were in my classrooms.
Now, however, I would like to reconnect to them and feel secure enough to talk about this. I eventually became a teacher in Special Education and now work in a school everyday.
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