Poker Jim, Gentleman, and Other Tales and Sketches

by G. Frank Lydston

Within the restaurant, the doctors worked like beavers. They did not always work systematically—that was impossible, in that confused mass of people. Confusion? Ye Gods! Was there ever such another scene? Distracted friends and relatives in search of their loved ones, nurses, doctors, firemen, policemen, and others who were trying to lend a helping hand, all contributed to the seething crowd of excited humanity that packed the place. Then there were the vulgar, bestial ones who stood and gaped sensually at the nudity of the fire victims who were being partially stripped by the doctors in their efforts to save. Yes, such were there, and they were numerous enough to make one blush for humanity. These cursed blots upon the face of nature, these moral monstrosities, and the other morbidly curious beings were alike obstructive. The first might not be killed without process of law, and there was so much to do that time could not be spared to throw the latter out upon the street. Once I very nearly forgot my surroundings. I asked a man who stood near to help me lift some dead bodies from a table to the floor, to make room for others in which there might still be life. He refused and moved away, saying, “You can do your own dirty work.” It was then I so nearly forgot, and said sundry sulphurous things. Had there been time, perhaps I should have entirely forgotten. But I fancy the cur was frightened, for after our brief and forceful interview he started for the door and I did not see him again.

Meanwhile, in the midst of the closely packed throng the stalwart firemen and policemen pushed their way as best they could, bearing the bodies of the dead. The work of rescue was going on very slowly. Even the doctors were not using their skill to the best advantage. In some instances a veritable throng of them were working, or attempting to work, simultaneously upon one body. A clear headed layman grasped the situation and, with the assistance of some of the physicians, evolved order out of chaos. Three doctors were assigned to each table; the police cleared out many of the drones in the crowd, and things began to move more swiftly. The police in general did excellent work. A glaring exception was a certain well-known captain. Noticing his insignia of office, I asked him to clear away the people who were obstructing the passage of the men who were carrying in the bodies. He replied, “I’ve got no time for you. Hunt up the man who has charge of the police detail.” And then the heartless brute went on gaping and getting in the way along with the rest of the morbidly curious.

I wonder if many realize what it means to see dead bodies so numerous that they might be estimated by the cord. Those who do, may perhaps picture to themselves the harrowing scenes about those tables where the physicians worked. As soon as a body was pronounced dead, it was hurriedly laid aside to make room for a possibly hopeful case. Cases in which resuscitation was accomplished were carried to the waiting ambulances and taken to the hospitals. But, alas! these cases were few.

The bodies were brought to us in a seemingly endless stream. As body after body was pronounced lifeless and laid aside, the piles of dead upon the tables grew higher and higher, grew until, as I have said, they could only be compared to piles of cord wood.

And what a difference in those bodies! Some were so seared, so blistered and blackened from the fire and smoke, that in the handling of them the skin, and even the flesh, came off in one’s hands in great shreds and rolls. A far greater number were so free from mar or discoloration, and their faces were so calm and peaceful that it was hard to believe them dead. Indeed, it was difficult to believe even that animation was suspended. They apparently had just fallen asleep.

And these last were to me the most awful sight of all. The others—well, they were better dead than living disfigured and maimed, and besides, there had at no time been hope for them. But these, ah, these! If only they had not lain so long. A little stimulant for the heart, a few compressions and relaxations of the chest, and the life giving oxygen would have entered their lungs and blood. They would have been saved.

What pathetic incidents there were in that restaurant.

A doctor friend of mine, a big hearted, broad shouldered Nature’s nobleman, was pushing his way here and there through the crowd. I noted him towering above those about him as he jostled the people about, and called to him, “Will you take a table?” But he did not answer. He did not seem to see or hear. He went on through the crowd from table to table and finally disappeared. I marvelled then, for I did not know. Poor fellow, his two daughters, beautiful young women, had gone to the Iroquois that day. He was looking, and looking,—for that which was bound to crush him, and hoping,—ah! hoping against hope, as the sequence proved. His light had gone out—and it has stayed out.

And I have just an inkling of what it all meant to the bereaved ones. I had not yet had time to ascertain whether my own wife and children had chanced to go to the Iroquois that afternoon. I recalled however, that I had taken them to see the same play a few days before, and concluded that they were not likely to attend it again soon, but still—

The horrible doubt had just begun to befog my mind, when a new subject was laid upon the table where I was working. It was the body of a young girl. As I took the first hasty glance at this latest unfortunate, I was almost stunned. The resemblance to my younger daughter was so startling that I was all but sure it was she. It was but a fleeting moment before I knew, but that ephemeral space of time was enough. And then I understood, oh, so well.