A Bicentennial Tribute
By Robert Drucker
On December 26, 1811 a tragic fire killed nearly 70 people at the Richmond Theatre, in Richmond, Virginia. At the time, it was the greatest urban disaster ever in the United States. Public domain image.
Perhaps no other event in recent American history brought forth a mix of tragedy and heroism more so than the devastating fire which ravaged the Richmond Theatre the evening of December 26, 1811. For in Richmond, Virginia that evening, an inferno terrorized hundreds of playgoers. And, although many people died in the blazing fire, the heroic efforts put forth by a few mighty people during the fire's rage saved many lives. This article is a tribute to the people who died and to the heroes who emerged during this devastating disaster.
The Richmond Theatre was erected around 1810 on the North side of H Street, now Broad Street. It was a multi-story brick building that housed an orchestra section, a huge performance stage, three levels of box seats, and more remote balcony seats. The new building was a replacement for Richmond's first theatre, a wooden structure that opened its doors on October 10, 1786 and was destroyed by fire in 1802.
The new theatre had brought back to Richmond fine play productions and entertainment for the many intellectuals who lived in the city. And, even though many Richmonders still had the fire of 1802 fresh on their minds, they flocked to the new theatre in large numbers when leading performances came to town. Such was the case on December 26th, 1811.
The day after Christmas in 1811 the mood in Richmond was jovial, and scores of people were celebrating with parties, family get-togethers, weddings, and big feasts. And, scheduled for the evening at the Richmond Theatre was a double-billing benefit performance for Alexander Placide, a very popular and distinguished actor in Richmond.
The Monumental Church was constructed between 1812 and 1814 to commemorate those who had died at the Richmond Theater the evening of December 26, 1811. The church still stands today at the very spot where the ill-fated theatre once stood. And, although no longer open to the public, it can be viewed from the street. Tours are also given by the Historic Richmond Foundation for a small fee, though by request only. The Monumental Church is located at 1224 East Broad Street in Richmond, Virginia. This photograph was taken around 1903, and it is in the public domain.
The second act scheduled for the evening was a pantomime entitled, Raymond and Agnes, or The Bleeding Nun. This new and anticipated melodrama was to be presented for the first time at the Richmond Theatre, a contributing factor of a record crowd.
Many of the people who gathered at the Richmond Theatre the evening after Christmas in 1811 were among Richmond's most social elite. In the audience were stage legislators, lawyers, doctors, scholars, war heroes, and other members of prominence. Numerous laborers and servants were present as well.
The more prominent and wealthier attendees were seated in the three levels of box seats, which were accessed through the building via a narrow and winding stairway. These were considered the most desirable seats in the house, but they proved to be the most deadly. The more common folks, including the attending servants, were seated in the balcony. The balcony seats were reached by an outside staircase, a factor which proved to save many lives.
At the conclusion of the first billing, the audience cheered wildly with applause. The comedy had them rolling with laughter, and the theatre was filled with an aura of joy and fulfillment.
Standing in the central yard of the Monumental Church is a memorial monument. Inscribed on its four faces and base are the names of 72 people who perished at the Richmond, Theatre the evening of the great fire. The monument stands over the sacred spot where the remains of the fire victims were buried in a crypt. Public domain photograph.
Following the comedy, the orchestra performed a brief musical interlude to keep the full house entertained while theatre workers prepared the stage for the new melodrama. And, when the pantomime got underway, the audience was once again beaming with laughter and amusement.
The first act of the pantomime ended without a hitch and with the playgoers in delight. But, unknown to anybody, fate was about to manifest itself in a most deadly way.
The second act of the evening got underway with Mr. West, who had been a popular comic in Virginia, working the crowd. All was going well until it came time for the stage workers to make a scene change. In preparation for the change, a boy worker was instructed to lift the chandelier out of sight. The chandelier was equipped with two oil lights, and as the boy started to lift it, he realized that one of the oil candles was still burning. He then hesitated, but was emphatically told by an authority to keeping pulling the chandelier upward. The boy, obeying his order, continued to lift the chandelier, but the pulley mechanism that controlled it became tangled. The chandelier then tipped on its side. At this moment, a stage carpenter was heard to yell, “Put the chandelier out!” But, the carpenter's command came too late. Before the candle could be extinguished, small flames were seen up high on a hanging scene above the stage.
While stage personnel worked frantically to tear down the burning scene and extinguish the flames, the audience was not aware of the fire, which was concealed by a drawn curtain. Also not aware that a scene had caught fire was Mr. Robinson, an actor who had just taken to a remote portion of the stage, an area which was away from the initial fire zone. But just moments after starting his lines, the actor noticed sparks falling from the ceiling, and suddenly the mood in the house became one of panic. Mr. Robinson waved his hand to the ceiling and cried out, “The house is on fire!” And, upon hearing those horrible uttered words, the crowd immediately headed towards the exits in a mad rush.
The actors, orchestra members, and stage personnel were able to escape from the burning building relatively quickly and easily through a back door at the pit that led to the street. And the poorer people in the balcony seats also had a clear way out through an exterior and roomy exit. But, playgoers in the upper boxes had to push their way through narrow corridors and a single staircase within the burning building to gain safety. A few at the lowest box level escaped by jumping onto the stage and then into the pit.
George William Smith was the newly elected Governor of Virginia when he visited the Richmond Theatre on December 26, 1811. He was among many prominent figures who had gathered at the theatre for an evening of entertainment. The brave governor perished in the flames while trying to find his wife. Public domain image.
Virtually everything inside of the building was combustible - the stage curtains, 35 hanging stage scenes, the exposed structural timber, and an un-plastered ceiling. As such, the fire quickly spread, and within two minutes following Mr. Robertson's cries, the Richmond Theatre had become filled with smoke and flames.
The sudden spread of fire brought forth a deadly disaster at the Richmond Theatre so great that no amount of words can adequately describe the pain and suffering that followed. In the words of a newspaper editor who had attended the performance:
“How can we describe the scene? No pen can paint it; no imagination can conceive it. A whole theatre wrapt in flames — a gay and animated assembly suddenly thrown on the very verge of the grave — many of them oh! How many, precipitated in a moment into eternity — youth and beauty and old age and genius overwhelmed in one promiscuous ruin — shrieks, groans, and human agony in every shape — this is the heartrending scene that we are called upon to describe.”
As fire spread across the theatre, an aura of death permeated the entire building. Pervading thick smoke caused dozens of people to perish from suffocation. Others were trampled to death by the rush of the crowd, or burned to death by the fierce flames. And, several misfortunate souls were crushed to death by collapsed structures.
People were seen running with their clothes on fire, screaming in agony. And, a number of playgoers, with no other way out, leaped out of high windows. Many of jumpers suffered broken bones when they hit the hard ground below. Others were crushed to death when following jumpers landed on them. Such was the gruesome scene.
Within 10 minutes after the start of fire, the entire Richmond Theatre was engulfed in flames, and anybody trapped inside by this time was surely dead. The fire burnt itself out overnight, leaving behind it just a few smoldering timbers and nearly 70 charred bodies. More people would later die as a result of burns or injuries they sustained while trying to escape the fiery of the flames.
Abraham Bedford Venable was among the dead following the tragic fire at the Richmond Theatre. At the time of his death, he was the president of the Bank of Virginia and a former member of the US Senate. Public domain image.
Among the dead were George William Smith, the acting Governor of Virginia, Abraham Bedford Venable, a former member of the Senate and then the president of the Bank of Virginia, Benjamin Gains Botts, a prominent attorney who helped defend Aaron Burr during his famous treason trial, Lieutenant James Gibbon, a US Navy war hero, members of some of the First Families of Virginia, and six people of African descent, at least one whom was enslaved. Many women and three children also perished in the disaster.
Why many more women died at the theatre than did men is not clear. Perhaps the long dresses the women wore restricted their mobility. Or, perhaps the women were less capable of withstanding the push of the frantic crowd.
Many of the people who died at the Richmond Theater on December 26th did so searching for a child or a loved one. And, many of the playgoers who survived lost loved ones or friends to the ravages of the fire. The horror of such tragedy was experienced by Mr. Copeland. He had gone to the Richmond theatre with his wife, two of his children, and with Mary Clay (daughter of Matthew Clay, a Representative from Virginia), along with two of her companions, Miss Gwathmey and Miss Gatewood. His daughter, Margaret, perished in the fire. Miss Clay and each of her two companions also died in the blaze.
In a letter dated December 27, 1811, Copeland sent a letter to Matthew Clay to tell him of their horrific and heart-breaking losses. He wrote:
“I have a tale of horror to tell; prepare to hear the most awful calamity that ever plunged a whole city into affliction. Yes, all Richmond is in tears: children have lost their parents, parents have lost their children. Yesterday a beloved daughter gladdened my heart with her innocent smiles; to-day she is in Heaven! God gave her to me, and God--yes, it has pleased Almighty God to take her from me. O! Sir, feel for me, and not for me only; arm yourself with fortitude, whilst I discharge the mournful duty of telling you that you have to feel also for yourself. Yes, for it must be told, you also were the father of an amiable daughter, now, like my beloved child, gone to join her mother in Heaven.How can words represent what one night, one hour of unutterable horror, has done to overwhelm a hundred families with grief and despair. No, Sir, impossible. My eyes beheld last night what no tongue, no pen can describe--horrors that language has no terms to represent.
Last night we were all at the theater; every family in Richmond, or at least a very large proportion of them, was there--the house was uncommonly full--when, dreadful to relate, the scenery took fire, spread rapidly above, ascending in volumes of flame and smoke into the upper part of the building, whence a moment after it descended to force a passage through the pit and boxes. In two minutes the whole audience were enveloped in hot, scorching smoke and flame. The lights were all extinguished by the black and smothering vapor; cries, shrieks, confusion, and despair, succeeded.
O moment of inexpressible horror! Nothing I can say, can paint the awful, shocking, maddening scene. The images of both my dear children were before me, but I was removed by an impassable crowd from the dear sufferers. The youngest (with gratitude to Heaven I write it), sprang towards the voice of her papa, reached my assisting hand, and was extricated from the overwhelming mass that soon chocked the passage by the stairs: but no efforts could avail me to reach, or even gain sight of the other; and my dear, dear Margaret, and your sweet Mary, with her companions, Miss Gwathmey and Miss Gatewood, passed together and at once, into a happier world. Judge my feelings by your own, when I found neither they nor my beloved sister appeared upon the stairs. First one, and then another, and another, I helped down; hoping every moment to seize the hand of my dear child, but no, no, I was not destined to have that happiness. O to see so, so many amiable helpless females trying to stretch to me their imploring hands, crying, “save me, sir; oh, sir, save me, save me!” Oh God, eternity cannot banish that spectacle of horror from my recollection. Some friendly unknown hand dragged me from the scene of flames and death--and on gaining the open air, to my infinite consolation, I found my sister had thrown herself from the upper window and was saved- -yes, thanks be to God, saved where fifty others in a similar attempt, broke their necks, or were crushed to death by those who fell on them from the same height. Oh, sir, you can have no idea of the general consternation--the universal grief that pervades this city--but why do I speak of that? I scarcely know what I write to you. Farewell. In haste and in deep affliction.”
Gilbert Hunt, shown here in his old age, was a slave and a blacksmith. His heroic actions helped to save many lives after fire broke out at the Richmond Theatre. He later acted with noble-hearted courage during the war of 1812, working in the US Army day and night to help build, prepare, and mount cannons for his country's defense. He also was credited for helping to save the lives of many prisoners at a burning penitentiary a few years prior to his heroic actions at the theatre. Public domain image.
The “assisting hand” that saved Mr. Copeland from the grip of death in no doubt belonged to a brave hero. There were also many other heroes who emerged as the raging fire desecrated the Richmond Theatre. All of these heroes risked their lives in an effort to save people from the perilous flames that swept across the building that fateful December evening. Some of these heroes survived; some did not. Among the brave souls who perished during their nobility were Governor Smith, Lieutenant James Gibbon, and a fellow referred to as Mr. Marshall. Heroes who survived included Mr. Robertson, Mr. Robert Stanard, Dr. Thorton, Dr. James McCaw, and Gilbert Hunt.
Governor Smith had been sitting with his wife and his nine year old son when fire broke out at the Richmond Theatre. Smith first led his wife from the auditorium and into the lobby. He then ran back to the box seats to rescue his son. But, when Smith returned to the lobby with his son, he could not find his wife. Fearing that his wife may have ventured back into the auditorium, the governor went back into the large room to look for her. But, the Governor of Virginia never saw his wife again. During his search for her, he was burned to death in vain. Unknown to the governor, his wife had been hustled forward by the push of the crowd, and she had escaped harm by jumping out of a window.
On Christmas night of 1811, Lieutenant Gibbon went to sleep, and he had a bad dream. When he awoke the next morning, he found himself depressed and restless. His sister, wondering what was bothering him, asked him at breakfast what was wrong. As written in his sister's diary, the Lieutenant responded by saying:
“You all laugh at me I know, but I have had such a horrible dream that it has depressed me. I dreamt I was standing before a closed door about to enter, but conscious of some nameless horror something told me to keep back. The door slowly opened and I went in and found myself in a large hall dark and empty. After a few steps I saw a man's face standing out of the darkness, illuminated by a lurid light. All else was dark, the man's eyes were fixed on me and I was seized with a horror and depression I could not stake off.”
Lieutenant James Gibbon was a war hero with the US Navy. He had begged his sweetheart, Miss Sallie Conyers, not to go to the Richmond Theatre on the evening of the tragic fire. His begging was to no avail; their lifeless bodies were found clasped together in a holding brace after the fire had burnt itself out. Public domain image.
Viewing his dream as a premonition, Gibbon begged his lover, Sallie Conyers, not to go to the theatre that evening. Miss Conyers refused to abide by her lover's wish, and later that evening she, along with a few acquaintances, went to see the anticipated theatrical performances without him.
Perhaps worried about his lover, during the performance Gibbon went into his parent's box, and he exchanged smiles with Sallie as she sat with her companions. The exchange of smiles was rather short lived, and Gibbon left the theatre before the outbreak of the fire. But, when the Lieutenant, who was nearby at the Capital Square, had heard the screams of fire, he rushed back into the theatre to find Sallie. The next day, two bodies were found clasped together in a loving brace. They were both burned beyond recognition, but the embraced pair was identified as James Gibbon by his naval buttons and as Sallie Conyers by the gold-bead necklace she had been wearing.
After saving several women by helping them drop safely from a window, Mr. Marshall was about to jump himself when the raging fire had approached him. Just as he was about to jump, a frantic woman grabbed onto his neck, and they both fell together. Mr. Marshall was killed when he landed hard on the ground. The frantic woman survived.
When flames started spreading from the stage scene that had been ignited by the burning chandelier, nearly all of the actors, orchestra members, and stage workers quickly exited the burning building through the back door in the pit. But, Mr. Robertson was not among those theatre personnel who made a quick dash for the exit. Upon shouting, “The house is on fire!,” the actor immediately ran up to the lower box stage and stretched his hands out to help people down and onto the stage so that they could escape the flames.
Mr. Robert Stanard refused to leave the burning theatre knowing that his lover, Miss Craig, and her sister were still in the main room and in great peril. Risking his life, he braved the flames repeatedly before he was finally able to save the woman he loved. Despite Stanard's relentless efforts, however, Miss Craig's sister did not make it.
Prior to going to the theatre, Miss Homoselle, an attractive young lady, had rejected Dr. Thorton's offer to accompany her. Instead, she chose to go with another man. Dr. Thorton was crushed, and during much of the evening he wandered aimlessly around the theatre so that he would not see his rival with Miss Homoselle. But, when the cry of fire was heard, Dr. Thorton rushed towards a window and caught site of his dream girl, whom had become separated from her escort during the mad rush of the crowd. After calling for Miss Homoselle, the doctor lifted her up to an open window, helped her get through it, and carefully lowered her to safety on the other side. He then, upon his escape from the burning building, once again pursued the lovely lady. Not long afterwards, they were married.
Gilbert Hunt was an enslaved blacksmith whose shop was not far from the Richmond Theatre. On the evening of December 26, he had just returned from worship at a Baptist church when he was suddenly startled by a cry that the theatre was on fire. His wife's mistress, frantic upon hearing the news, asked the blacksmith to rush to scene and save her only daughter. Gilbert was very fond of the mistress's daughter, and he ran right away towards the theatre with every intention to save her.
On his way to the theatre, Gilbert stopped at the house of a neighbor and pleaded with him to lend him a bed “on which poor creatures might fall as they leaped from windows.” His neighbor, who must have had a little heart, refused the blacksmith's request. So Gilbert got a step ladder and rushed over to the burning building. By the time he arrived, the theatre was completely engulfed in fire and smoke. He placed the ladder against the walls of the burning building, noting that “the door was too small to let the crowd, pushed forward by the scorching flames to get out, and numbers of them were leaping from the windows only to be crushed to death by the fall.”
The beautiful Miss Sallie Conyers once said that she always had a fear of having her fortune told. On Christmas day, one day before fire broke out at the Richmond Theatre, Miss Conyers lashed out in horror among friends and family when in good fun a few companions, dressed up as fortune tellers, attempted to tell the young woman her fortune. The next evening, she and Lieutenant James Gibbon perished together as fire ravaged the theatre. Public domain image.
As Gilbert looked up, he saw Dr. McCaw standing at a top window, and the doctor called upon him to “catch” each lady he was about to lower from it. The doctor was an extremely muscular and strong man, and he was said to be built like “Hercules.” Gilbert Hunt was also a very strong and powerful fellow, for he had built his muscles to a large degree by frequent swinging of his shop hammer.
Working as a team, Dr. McCaw and Gilbert Hunt saved 12 women from the burning flames, the last one being the doctor's sister. Gilbert had easily caught the first 11 women dropped from the window in his powerful arms without incident. He later reflected that “. . . the ladies felt as light as feathers.” However, Gilbert's last catch proved to be more taxing. Like Dr. McCaw, his sister was big boned, muscular, and quite heavy. When she landed in Gilbert's arms after being dropped from the window by her brother, the force of impact knocked Gilbert to ground, and she hit the ground with him. Fortunately, neither was hurt.
Dr. McCaw's sister had been the last lady present in the portion of the theatre he was working. By the time she was saved, however, the fire had closed in on the doctor and his back was becoming scorched by the encroaching flames. Just when it looked like the end for him, the large man jumped from the window, but his leather gaiter got caught on an iron projection, leaving him hanging in agony for quite a few minutes. He finally broke loose and fell to the ground, landing hard. Gilbert Hunt later reflected:
“He jumped from one of the windows, and when he touched ground, I thought he was dead. He could not move an inch. No one was near him; for the wall above, was tottering like a drunken man, ready at any moment to fall and crush him to death. I heard him scream out, ‘Will nobody save me’ and, at the risk of my own life, I rushed to him and bore him away to a place of safety.”
Dr. McCaw survived his fall, but he incurred broken bones and internal injuries. As a result, he lived the rest of his life as a cripple.
Despite his heroic efforts at the burning theatre, Gilbert never did find the daughter of his wife's mistress. Years after the devastating fire at the Richmond Theatre, he wrote, “I never found my young mistress, and suppose she perished among the many other young and beautiful females, who on that dreadful night passed so unexpectedly from time to eternity.”
Although a calamity can inspire people to respond heroically, sometimes the weakness of a person's character is exposed when he or she is put in the face of danger. Such was the case the night of December 26 at the Richmond Theatre when a young girl, who had become separated from her companions as fire spread across the building, was shoved to the floor by the frantic crowd. She finally recognized one of her acquaintances in the moving crowd, a man who was well known and highly respected by the community. The girl grabbed onto the man's coat skirt, and when she did he reached for his penknife and cut the coat skirt off and fled. The girl was left still grasping the coat skirt in her hand when the man ran away with cowardice. Fortunately, this girl survived, but she never did reveal who the cowardly man was.
John Marshall was the Chief Justice of the United States from 1801 through 1835. Previously, he had been a leader of the Federalist Party in Virginia and served in the United States House of Representatives. In Early 1812, it was suggested that a great memorial be built at the site where the Richmond Theater once stood to commemorate those who had died in the fire. As Chief Justice, Marshall assumed charge of this movement, and a building fund was raised. The Monumental Church was then completed about two years later. Public domain image.
The day after the tragic fire at the Richmond Theatre, Gilbert Hunt returned to Shockhoe Hill, at the very sight where the building once stood. Some years later he recalled his return, and wrote:
“The next day, I went to the scene where such awful sights had been witnessed. And oh! how my heart shudders even now at the things which then and there met my eye. There lay, piled together, one mass of half-burned bodies—the bodies of all classes and conditions of people—the young and the old, the bond and the free, the rich and the poor, the great and the small, were all lying there together. Some of them were so badly burned that it was impossible to recognize them. Others were almost uninjured [it appeared]; yet life had left their bodies, and there they lay, cold, and stiff, and dead.”
On the same day that Gilbert Hunt returned to the ruins at Shockhoe Hill, the Council of Richmond passed an ordinance appointing a committee to have the remains of those who perished in the fire collected, to identify the names of the victims, to have a monument made and placed in their memory, and to make arrangements for their funeral. A decision was made by the Council to bury the victims at the spot where the Richmond Theatre once stood. They also elected to build a memorial monument near the spot in honor of the victims, and to serve as a permanent reminder of the horrific holocaust that had occurred. In addition, the city Council dictated that a committee be appointed to investigate the cause of the catastrophe. The appointed Committee of Investigation would later blame the loss of life on the poor construction of the building, noting that it was not sufficiently designed to prevent a rapid spread of fire.
Following the tragedy at the Richmond Theatre, the city Council also decreed that for the next four months no public shows could be held in Richmond. Stores in Richmond were also closed for two days.
On the 30th of December, news of the Richmond disaster had reached Washington, the nation's capital. Both houses of Congress passed a resolution to wear a badge of mourning for thirty days. Never before had a federal legislative branch implemented such an action.
During the spring of 1812, it was suggested that a new building be built on the site where the Richmond Theatre had been burnt to the ground to commemorate those who had perished the night of the great fire. Chief Justice John Marshall of the United States Supreme Court took charge of the initiative, and the construction of the Monumental Church began in 1812 and was completed in 1814 under his directive. Standing in the central yard of the Monumental Church is the memorial monument that was brought forth by the committee appointed by the city Council. It stands over the sacred spot where the remains of the fire victims were buried in a crypt. The monument is made of marble, and it has an urn on top. Inscribed on the monument's four faces and base are the names of the buried dead.
Robert Mills designed the Monumental Church and many famous federal buildings and monuments. Shown here is the first Washington Monument, a building Mills designed and which stands in Baltimore, Maryland. In addition to this monument, the famous architect designed the Washington Monument in Washington DC and the Fireproof Building in Charleston, South Carolina. Public domain image.
The Monumental Church was designed by Robert Mills, the first American-born professional architect. Mills later designed the nation's first Washington Monument, a building that was completed in the Mount Vernon neighborhood in Baltimore, Maryland in 1829. The architect also designed many federal buildings and the famous Washington Monument that rests in the nation's capital. However, he was unable to witness its final construction. Mills died on March 3, 1855 — nearly 30 years before Washington's tallest structure was completed. As side notes, Robert Mills first studied architecture in his home town of Charleston, South Carolina at a local college. He later moved to Washington, DC and worked under the direction of Irish-born James Hoban, the man who designed the White House. Mills also worked extensively with Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Henry Latrobe, two other icons of American architecture.
The awful calamity that occurred at the Richmond Theatre the evening of December 26, 1811 must never be forgotten. It was at the time the worst urban disaster ever experienced in the United States, and the entire nation mourned upon hearing the shocking news that over 70 people perished in the catastrophic fire, among them many of Virginia's most prominent figures. But not all is gloom. By looking back at what happened that fateful night in Richmond, we can learn from and be inspired by Governor George W. Smith, Gilbert Hunt, Dr. James McCaw and the other heroes who expressed humanity at its highest level.
As I finish this article, the clock here in Louisville, Kentucky has just turned past midnight, and the new date is December 26, 2011. This marks the 200th anniversary of the tragic fire at the Richmond Theatre, an event that shaped our history forever. I have done my best to give tribute to the many people who perished prematurely, and to the heroes who emerged, on that fateful day 200 years ago. That said, I acknowledge that there were many events of historical significance that were not mentioned in this tribute article, but perhaps should have been. Likewise, there were many more heroes at the fire scene than time and space allowed me to bring back to life on paper. Nonetheless, I hope that, with this article, I have accomplished my goal of giving tribute to the men, women, and children who made history 200 years ago in Richmond, Virginia. They will forever be etched in my memory.