- By Deborah Whitaker
On September 10, 2001, I spent hours skimming Dante's Inferno as part of my research for the screenplay I was about to co-write using coincidence as a subtext.
After reading my first screenplay, Ken Lawrence approached me a few weeks before about collaborating on a new "powerful project." Not long after we sat down at the Barnes and Noble in Manchester, New Hampshire, and before ever revealing anything about his mysterious project, Ken asked me if I knew about a notable day in Boston history that changed America and saves lives every day, but that few Americans knew about. I shook my head. I didn't know. He then pulled out a Sunday edition of a Boston Globe newspaper, wrapped in plastic and dated November 29, 1942, with the headlines "400 Dead in Hub Night Club fire." The old newspaper Ken stumbled upon at a flea market was the first of a flurry of coincidences surrounding our writing of the 1942 Boston nightclub fire at Cocoanut Grove, a story itself filled with coincidences.
All of the protective fire laws in public buildings - Exit signs, crash bars, emergency lighting, sprinklers, occupancy limits and nonflammable materials - were not established until after one of the worst fires in America at the posh Boston nightclub, Cocoanut Grove. On that Thanksgiving weekend in 1942, a fire that lasted a mere 15 minutes claimed the lives of nearly 500 people and injured hundreds. From the combination of intensely flammable and toxic materials used in the decorations and suspicious business practices and building maintenance (many of the side doors were padlocked) by the Grove's mob connected owner, Cocoanut Grove exploded from the inside out. Killed in this national disaster were entertainers, prominent Bostonians, servicemen and women and the well-known cowboy movie actor Buck Jones, and many members of his entourage, which included a number of high-powered Hollywood executives.
Ken was first drawn to writing the story of Cocoanut Grove after hearing broadcaster Paul Harvey relay, in his signature voice, the "rest of the story" on his national radio show. The most noteworthy coincidence involved the Boston College football team who were so highly favored in a football game against Holy Cross (the winning team would head to the Sugar Bowl) that reservations for the Mayor's victory party at Cocoanut Grove were planned weeks in advance. The Mayor's party was cancelled when Holy Cross upset favored Boston College 55-12. Two weeks before, BC printed up posters displaying two of their All-American players; the numbers on their football jerseys read 55 and 12.
In his thick native Boston accent, Ken shared some stories with me that he heard about the Grove growing up in Boston. Ken knew both the story and the culture well, and had me in stitches with his realistically comical characterizations. I was sold. Yet before I agreed to collaborate, I asked Ken to answer one important question for me. What's the one thing about this story that resonates with you the most, I asked. The coincidences, he answered. I nodded and smiled. Me too.
There's a strange thing about writing about unexplainable coincidences. They follow you.
The first major coincidence in August 2001 came when borrowing Paul Benzaquin's 1959 book about Cocoanut Grove, "Holocaust! The Shocking Story of the Boston Cocoanut Grove Fire from the Bedford NH library." The librarian knew that the world's foremost expert on the Cocoanut Grove fire, Jack Deady, lived in Bedford. It wasn't long after I finished the book that we visited Jack (now deceased) with all our jaws appropriately dropped at our rich find. His entire basement was filled with every conceivable file and artifact associated with the Cocoanut Grove fire. It turned out that Jack's father was the lead investigator of the fire.
Cocoanut Grove was considered "the place to see and be seen." With blue satin draping its walls and ceilings, palm trees decorating its floors and coconut husks surrounding the lights, Cocoanut Grove was made to resemble an island paradise. A retractable ceiling allowed patrons to literally dance under the stars to the country's most popular big bands.
The weekend before Thanksgiving, 1942, Boston held its first air raid drill to test the city's emergency preparedness in case of a German Luftwaffe attack on the city. The Civil Defense Director branded the exercise a success, saying the city was now ready for any kind of disaster. On the night of the holocaust, Angelo, the impeccably dressed Cocoanut Grove Maître d, stayed home due to his ongoing battle with gout, creating a house so crowded patrons had to turn sideways to get through the tables in the dining room, which Angelo would have never allowed.
Around 10 p.m. Saturday night, November 28, 1942, a small car fire called Boston firefighters a few streets away from Cocoanut Grove. As soon as one firefighter extinguished it, he noticed smoke coming from the nightclub. In the overcrowded basement bar, Melody Lounge, a patron unscrewed a light bulb to darken the corner where he smooched with his date. The head bartender ordered a young bus boy to screw the bulb back in. Unable to see, the bus boy lit a match. While witnesses saw the match being completely stamped out and investigations later cleared him, this 15 year old bus boy was to be blamed and ostracized for the rest of his life. According to Jack Deady's well-thought out but unofficial hypothesis, simultaneously, in the same darkened corner, faulty wiring sparked from an air conditioner leaking highly flammable methyl chloride. Cocoanut Grove was ablaze in coincidence.
The sparks ignited the fake palm trees and toxic blue satin hanging from the ceilings. A raging fireball rushed up the narrow staircase and into the main dining room. Cocoanut Grove's signature revolving door became a death trap stacked with bodies. Absolute panic ensued. With the raging fireball just inches above their heads and toxic smoke rapidly filling their lungs, patrons charged and jammed up against the doors; doors which were locked or only opened inward. Many died being crushed by the panicking crowd.
Minutes before the fire started, a wedding photographer ran out of film. She left to buy more only to return to find the club engulfed in flames. The bride and groom she had just photographed died in each other's arms on the dance floor. The next day, a photo was taken of the charred grand piano with sheet music sprawled about. One song stood out: "We'll Meet Again."
Firemen who rushed to the scene attempted to climb over charred bodies to gain access to the building. Eventually working their way in by smashing through doors and thick plate glass windows, firemen were subjected to one horrific sight after another. Due to its gruesome nature, there was one particular scene our script consultant (a former studio development executive) suggested we remove, until we explained that it really happened. After we finished the script, Ken tracked down fireman George Graney (now deceased), one of the first firemen to arrive at the grisly scene, and recorded George's retelling of his experience that night. He told Ken about a scene he said he'd never forget. Upon finally breaking into the club and rushing into the Melody Lounge, he and his colleagues found what at first glance appeared to be survivors, until they looked closer. Some patrons sat at tables, eyes open, their hands still wrapped around their drinks. Instantly overcome by the toxic fumes, they never had a chance to move.
Despite all the heartbreak and misfortune, there was a positive side to this devastating story. The fire at Cocoanut Grove prompted the first widespread use of penicillin, major advances in burn therapies, and even the birth of grief therapy. To this day, the fire at Cocoanut Grove is part of many a firefighter's curriculum.
Ken and I decided to write our epic story Titanic style; a historically accurate portrayal woven together by a fictional love story. During our visit in Jack's basement, we found ourselves unable to take our eyes off a black and white photo on Jack's wall of a young, up and coming singer named Dorothy (eventually nicknamed "Dauntless Dotty"). Immediately, Ken and I knew we found our leading lady. When Jack pulled out an article about the owner's 24 year old nephew Daniel, who tended bar in the Melody Lounge and was studying to be a psychiatrist (as a psychotherapist, the word jumped off the page at me), we knew we not only had our hero, but our love story too.
Continued in Part Two!
On September 10, 2001, I spent hours skimming Dante's Inferno as part of my research for the screenplay I was about to co-write using coincidence as a subtext.
After reading my first screenplay, Ken Lawrence approached me a few weeks before about collaborating on a new "powerful project." Not long after we sat down at the Barnes and Noble in Manchester, New Hampshire, and before ever revealing anything about his mysterious project, Ken asked me if I knew about a notable day in Boston history that changed America and saves lives every day, but that few Americans knew about. I shook my head. I didn't know. He then pulled out a Sunday edition of a Boston Globe newspaper, wrapped in plastic and dated November 29, 1942, with the headlines "400 Dead in Hub Night Club fire." The old newspaper Ken stumbled upon at a flea market was the first of a flurry of coincidences surrounding our writing of the 1942 Boston nightclub fire at Cocoanut Grove, a story itself filled with coincidences.
All of the protective fire laws in public buildings - Exit signs, crash bars, emergency lighting, sprinklers, occupancy limits and nonflammable materials - were not established until after one of the worst fires in America at the posh Boston nightclub, Cocoanut Grove. On that Thanksgiving weekend in 1942, a fire that lasted a mere 15 minutes claimed the lives of nearly 500 people and injured hundreds. From the combination of intensely flammable and toxic materials used in the decorations and suspicious business practices and building maintenance (many of the side doors were padlocked) by the Grove's mob connected owner, Cocoanut Grove exploded from the inside out. Killed in this national disaster were entertainers, prominent Bostonians, servicemen and women and the well-known cowboy movie actor Buck Jones, and many members of his entourage, which included a number of high-powered Hollywood executives.
Ken was first drawn to writing the story of Cocoanut Grove after hearing broadcaster Paul Harvey relay, in his signature voice, the "rest of the story" on his national radio show. The most noteworthy coincidence involved the Boston College football team who were so highly favored in a football game against Holy Cross (the winning team would head to the Sugar Bowl) that reservations for the Mayor's victory party at Cocoanut Grove were planned weeks in advance. The Mayor's party was cancelled when Holy Cross upset favored Boston College 55-12. Two weeks before, BC printed up posters displaying two of their All-American players; the numbers on their football jerseys read 55 and 12.
In his thick native Boston accent, Ken shared some stories with me that he heard about the Grove growing up in Boston. Ken knew both the story and the culture well, and had me in stitches with his realistically comical characterizations. I was sold. Yet before I agreed to collaborate, I asked Ken to answer one important question for me. What's the one thing about this story that resonates with you the most, I asked. The coincidences, he answered. I nodded and smiled. Me too.
There's a strange thing about writing about unexplainable coincidences. They follow you.
The first major coincidence in August 2001 came when borrowing Paul Benzaquin's 1959 book about Cocoanut Grove, "Holocaust! The Shocking Story of the Boston Cocoanut Grove Fire from the Bedford NH library." The librarian knew that the world's foremost expert on the Cocoanut Grove fire, Jack Deady, lived in Bedford. It wasn't long after I finished the book that we visited Jack (now deceased) with all our jaws appropriately dropped at our rich find. His entire basement was filled with every conceivable file and artifact associated with the Cocoanut Grove fire. It turned out that Jack's father was the lead investigator of the fire.
Cocoanut Grove was considered "the place to see and be seen." With blue satin draping its walls and ceilings, palm trees decorating its floors and coconut husks surrounding the lights, Cocoanut Grove was made to resemble an island paradise. A retractable ceiling allowed patrons to literally dance under the stars to the country's most popular big bands.
The weekend before Thanksgiving, 1942, Boston held its first air raid drill to test the city's emergency preparedness in case of a German Luftwaffe attack on the city. The Civil Defense Director branded the exercise a success, saying the city was now ready for any kind of disaster. On the night of the holocaust, Angelo, the impeccably dressed Cocoanut Grove Maître d, stayed home due to his ongoing battle with gout, creating a house so crowded patrons had to turn sideways to get through the tables in the dining room, which Angelo would have never allowed.
Around 10 p.m. Saturday night, November 28, 1942, a small car fire called Boston firefighters a few streets away from Cocoanut Grove. As soon as one firefighter extinguished it, he noticed smoke coming from the nightclub. In the overcrowded basement bar, Melody Lounge, a patron unscrewed a light bulb to darken the corner where he smooched with his date. The head bartender ordered a young bus boy to screw the bulb back in. Unable to see, the bus boy lit a match. While witnesses saw the match being completely stamped out and investigations later cleared him, this 15 year old bus boy was to be blamed and ostracized for the rest of his life. According to Jack Deady's well-thought out but unofficial hypothesis, simultaneously, in the same darkened corner, faulty wiring sparked from an air conditioner leaking highly flammable methyl chloride. Cocoanut Grove was ablaze in coincidence.
The sparks ignited the fake palm trees and toxic blue satin hanging from the ceilings. A raging fireball rushed up the narrow staircase and into the main dining room. Cocoanut Grove's signature revolving door became a death trap stacked with bodies. Absolute panic ensued. With the raging fireball just inches above their heads and toxic smoke rapidly filling their lungs, patrons charged and jammed up against the doors; doors which were locked or only opened inward. Many died being crushed by the panicking crowd.
Minutes before the fire started, a wedding photographer ran out of film. She left to buy more only to return to find the club engulfed in flames. The bride and groom she had just photographed died in each other's arms on the dance floor. The next day, a photo was taken of the charred grand piano with sheet music sprawled about. One song stood out: "We'll Meet Again."
Firemen who rushed to the scene attempted to climb over charred bodies to gain access to the building. Eventually working their way in by smashing through doors and thick plate glass windows, firemen were subjected to one horrific sight after another. Due to its gruesome nature, there was one particular scene our script consultant (a former studio development executive) suggested we remove, until we explained that it really happened. After we finished the script, Ken tracked down fireman George Graney (now deceased), one of the first firemen to arrive at the grisly scene, and recorded George's retelling of his experience that night. He told Ken about a scene he said he'd never forget. Upon finally breaking into the club and rushing into the Melody Lounge, he and his colleagues found what at first glance appeared to be survivors, until they looked closer. Some patrons sat at tables, eyes open, their hands still wrapped around their drinks. Instantly overcome by the toxic fumes, they never had a chance to move.
Despite all the heartbreak and misfortune, there was a positive side to this devastating story. The fire at Cocoanut Grove prompted the first widespread use of penicillin, major advances in burn therapies, and even the birth of grief therapy. To this day, the fire at Cocoanut Grove is part of many a firefighter's curriculum.
Ken and I decided to write our epic story Titanic style; a historically accurate portrayal woven together by a fictional love story. During our visit in Jack's basement, we found ourselves unable to take our eyes off a black and white photo on Jack's wall of a young, up and coming singer named Dorothy (eventually nicknamed "Dauntless Dotty"). Immediately, Ken and I knew we found our leading lady. When Jack pulled out an article about the owner's 24 year old nephew Daniel, who tended bar in the Melody Lounge and was studying to be a psychiatrist (as a psychotherapist, the word jumped off the page at me), we knew we not only had our hero, but our love story too.
Continued in Part Two!
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