December 1 started like any other cold winter day. I recall having gone home for lunch that day and telling my mother that I didn't feel well and wanted to stay home. I also told her that I smelled smoke that morning. As I look back on it now it had to be garbage burning outside. No matter what, I was sent back to school after lunch. I don't remember much about that afternoon except about 2:30 I had asked my teacher, Miss Herlihy, if I could go to the washroom. She had asked if I could wait until I went home because school would be out soon. I could not and relunctantly she allowed me to go and sent me with another little girl. The washroom was located towards the back of the school and my room, 104 was in the front of the school. While in the bathroom we heard the fire alarm and wondered if someone had made a mistake and rang the wrong bell. The washroom filled with smoke not long after we heard the fire alarm. It was apparent it was no mistake. We ran out and all I could think of was my cousin Joey who was in 2nd grade too and that I wanted to find him. The one memory that haunts me to this day is that as I ran from room to room looking for him I saw a classroom full of children sitting in their desks like little soldiers and the sister stood in front and prayed the rosary. (The doors of the classrooms had windows in them). For a long time I thought I had imagined it but other kids had the same recollection as I did. I wondered why they were not running out of the smoke filled school. I never did find my cousin. I ran back to my room and tried to get my coat out of the cloak room but I was pushed out the front door without it into a line of kids filing into the church. There was so much confusion and then as he did everyday, my grandfather appeared. He tried to take me out of the line and the sister would not let me go. He told her..."I see her and I am taking her" and he put his overcoat and scarf on me and we went to where my little brother, Michael was told to stand until we got back and we went home. My grandmother and my pregnant mother were standing on our front porch, crying and watching the smoke, listening to the sirens and when we pulled up and my grandfather carried me out of the car, they thought I was burned or hurt. Luckily I was not physically injured. The mental scars would last a life time. My cousin was missing until midnight but was later found safe and sound in the homes along Avers Ave. His mom was pregnant too and both our moms gave birth 2 weeks later, earlier than they should have.
The days and weeks to follow were filled with so much sadness. Our neighborhood would never ever be the same. We lived at 631 N. Avers which was 3 blocks south of the school. Everyone knew everyone and relatives lived either next door, across the street or even in the same building. On any summer evening you would see families sitting outside on their porches waiting for the peanut man with his cart or the man with horse and carriage giving the kids a ride around the block for ten cents a ride. You could walk down Chicago Ave. and get an Italian lemonade or cookies from Ancona's bakery...all of that was gone. The sights and sounds were replaced with an eerie quiet and family and friends eventually moved away. On our street alone, the Sarno and Mele families lost children. We were never allowed to talk about what had happened. We could not watch anything on TV that had to do with the fire. Radios were turned off. Newspapers were thrown away. It was almost as if people thought if we didn't talk about it anymore, it would go away. It did not and never will.
I was bussed to John Hay and then eventually to Our Lady Help of Christians. None of us wanted to sit near the windows and really got pretty shook up when we had fire drills. We eventually went to the new OLA. I was in the 4th grade. By the 5th grade our family had moved and I finished my grade school days at HOC with my brother Michael.
I followed on my own in the newspaper when the fire was mentioned over the years. I remember when I was 16 working in the Jewel, Irene and her husband Gerry came to my check out counter and I was so excited. It was like seeing celebrities. I had cut out their wedding picture from the newspaper and was so happy for them. (They probably don't remember that). Irene's sister, Monica was one of my playmates and we were in the same grade.
Every December 1st was difficult for me. The news media would have a story every year. I would see it and cry and wonder when they would just let it go and let us heal. Even going to Queen of Heaven Cemetary to visit family gravesites it seemed the car would just steer itself to the OLA section. Over the years I bought Michelle McBride's book, The Fire that will not die and I just could not bring myself to read it and never have.
I am now married with 2 grown children and 3 granddaughters. Two of them are 7, the same age I was at the time of the fire. I look at them and see myself at that age and having gone through this horrible thing. We had no councelling, no one to talk to or anyone (even a relative) that would even listen. I now find comfort in knowing that if anything ever happened, (God forbid) my grandchildren would have professionals that would be sent to the schools immediately that they could talk to. My brother, Michael became a fireman and is now the Deputy Fire Chief in Elmwood Park. I am very proud of his accomplishemnts and he has gone to all the schools in his area to tell of that fateful day and why fire safety is so extremely important. He had asked me a few years ago if I would like to go to the Our Lady of the Angels Anniversary Mass and I did and I was so overwhelmed when I went back to the neighborhood and to the church. The Mass for me was the funeral I was never allowed to attend. I cried as each name was read and each candle was lit. We were invited to take a candle home and I took home the candle that said "survivors" on it and I cherish it and light it every year for both those lost and those of us that survived. I have since read "To Sleep with the Angels" and could not put it down. It was very well written. We went to every Mass after that until the statue was dedicated. That was the year my mother asked why Michael and I never invited her to go. I don't think either of us thought she would want to. We did take her and I walked with her around the church before the Mass and I know a million memories must have flooded back to her. She was married there, we were all baptized there and made our First Holy Communion there. This parish meant so much to so many people that for the longest time tried to forget everything about it. After the Mass, the Memorial was dedicated in the school vestibule. We went inside, walked around and we even bought a few more copies of the book "To Sleep with the Angels". The next morning my mother suffered a paralyzing stroke. She told me she was very upset and stayed up late looking at the book. From that moment on December 1 took on a new meaning and I had wondered if she would have had the stroke even if she didn't go to the Mass. I guess it was God's way of giving me something else to be concerned about and to try and put the fire back in the past.
I watched the Channel 11 story twice. I thought it was a well told story. I was taken by Charlene's story (I don't think I could have been that brave) and by the gal (I am sorry I have forgotten her name)that said she was told that "we were not good enough to go to heaven that day" and a lot of kids lived with that feeling of "not being good enough..." all these years. I believe things happen for a reason. Our school was named Our Lady of the Angels. Angels are exactly what went to heaven that day. I wish it hadn't been in such a horrific way but that is how it happened. God needed those "angels". WE on the other hand WERE good enough to go...it was just not our time to go. He had other plans for us. Maybe some of us became doctors and saved a life. Maybe some of us fought for our country, maybe some of us are still doing whatever it is we were put on this earth to do. I wish all that perished would have had those same opportunities but it was God's will and we will never know until we are all together someday in Heaven. I am not extremely religious but that is just what I believe. I think the special awakened a lot of memories for a lot of people. It gave my children a better understanding of what happened that day and why my heart breaks every December 1. No matter how old we were that day...we will never forget. I am so sorry to those who lost children.
I had always hoped Father Joe would be at the Masses or even say the Mass. It would have been a comfort to me to see him. I have met so many people over the years that were in the fire and some of them are very close friends. It is a bond, no matter how young or old we were at the time, will hold us together forever.
Thank you Channel 11 for telling our story and allowing me this time to tell mine.
Betti Marino Wasek
|