Hopkinsville Kentuckian. [volume] (Hopkinsville, Ky.) 1889-1918, 1901-02-15
a HANDY TOOL.
How Button Hook Once Saved q
MANS Life.

said Charleston business man at one
Of the hotels recently, extracting a
somewhat rusty ard battered speci-'
men from his trousers pocket, ac-
cordingto New Orleans 1imes-Dem-
ocrat reporter. 81 don't wear but
toned shoes myself he continued,
but carry this little implement as
a souvenir Of an affair which put its
usefulness to a highly dramatic test.
The story, in few words, is this:
Some years ago | had occasion
to spend a month or SO i'll Chicago,
and one evening, by mere chance,
dropped in at variety theater which
was then being run on the second
floor of brick block at the edge OF
the retail district. The place was
packed to the doors, but ! managed
to get seat vacated by somebody
near the front, and found myself
wedged in without much chance Of
getting out until the show was over.
In the course of about an hour, as l
remember it, | WAS looking idly
around the auditorium, for the per-
Torrance was not very good, when
l was startled to observe thin
wreath of smoke curling up from a
crack in the side wall, not 80 feet
from where / sat A second glance
satisfied me the house was on fire,
and l got up instinctively and began
to wriggle toward the aisle. On the
right of the proscenium and quite
near at hand was large door that l
surmised instinctively led to some
way out, and, realizing the futility of
trying to reach the rear before the
alarm was given, pushed toward it.
1t was unfastened and opened on a
steep flight of stairs between bare
brick walls l passed through quiet
ly, closed the door behind me and
started down. On the next floor level
the stairs made an abrupt turn and
| fell sprawling over a Waterman sit
ting on the bottom step in front of
another big door, made Of sheet iron,
with 'Stage-baggage' painted on it in
white letters. open up quickP 1
gasped, as soon as | could get my
breath. THE house is on fire and the
crowd will be piling down in half a
minuteP The Waterman was big,
rough fellow, but he turned pale. Il
can't do it, he said. The doors
locked and the stage manager has the
keyp Where is hep / asked. Lord
knowsY said he. But let's get out
of here lively We'd be stamped to
death in this holep He took one
bound up the stairs, but before he
could repeat it deafening roar came
echoing down the narrow passage. 1t
was the most appalling sound | ever
heard in my life-the howl of a panic
stricken crowd! The Waterman
turned back. Come and help meP
he yelled, and sprang full tilt against
the sheet-iron door. Our united
strength failed to bulge it, and a
furious rafting Of wood from above
Ietold us that the scared mob was try
ing to get in, butwas evidently baked
for the moment by the crush Have
you no key at alp ] asked, desper-
ately, after we had exhausted our
selves in vain lunges, and at the same
time l began to search my own peck
cts. Among a lot Of odds and ends
| fshed up this button-hook, and the
Waterman instantly grabbed it, lie
Strengthened the hook with one bite
of his powerful teeth and then by
what was plainly supreme effort he
steadied himself and thrust it careful
ly into the keyhole. AS a matter of
fact, / suppose ten seconds elapsed
while he fumbled with the mechan-
ism, but tomeitwas an hour of agony.
| expected each moment to. see the
frantic human tide come surging
down the narrow staircase and to be
caught in such trap meant certain
and horrible death 1t galloped in
panorama before my brain, the dark
ness, the suffocation, the trampling
underfoot, the cries and blows-then
suddenly l heard a click, the door
swung open and we tumbled into an
alleyl JUST as. the first of the big
crowd came plunging down the pas
sage 1t was the closest call Of my
life" added the story teller, "and now
Won lxnO,v xvhv | Vallo tbic h1tton