Earlier on that afternoon I had the job of bringing the wastepaper bin to the basement of the school where the papers were thrown into the school furnace. On the way downstairs, I met Roger Ramlow who was also doing the wastepaper run from his room. Roger was in the eighth grade and a friend and neighbor of mine. Unfortunately, Roger didn't make it out that day and was one of the fire victims.

As I recall, we were seated alphabetically in our room, and so with my last name starting with a "U", I was seated next to the windows in the last row. When the room started filling with smoke, I was able to get to the windows quickly. I remember as we were all struggling to get out, someone in front of me jumped out of the window and I saw him land and he looked hurt. I got out on the window ledge and was getting ready to jump when the janitor (I thought it was Mr. Raymond) came into the alley and had a ladder. When I saw him I thought of getting his attention by throwing my shoe down at him but I thought if I had to jump, it would be better with shoes on. So I threw my glasses down at him and got his attention. He put the ladder up to my window but the ladder was short so I had to turn around and hang down off the window ledge to reach the ladder and get down. Other kids behind me were able to do the same.

I was one of the lucky ones who got out without any injury. Once down on the ground, I looked back up at the school windows and saw everyone screaming and jumping out. The Fire Department had just gotten there and they were doing the best they could to try to pull kids out and catch them as they jumped. It was an agonizing sight.

I lived on Lawndale and Augusta and left to go home to tell my parents I was OK. I headed for home down Avers and then down Augusta to Lawndale. As it turned out, my mother had heard that the school was on fire and ran to the school going up Lawndale and then down Iowa to the school. When I got home, our neighbor told me that my mother left in a panic to go find me and said I should go back to the school to find her.

When I got back to the school, there were large crowds of people and screaming parents in the street on Avers, but somehow I found my mother in the crowd and we went back home. We were a lucky family on that tragic day.

We all lost a lot of friends in that awful fire. Roger Ramlow lived accross the street from me; John Jajkowski was a friend who also lived on my street and I was at both of their funerals. Every street in our neighborhood had families who had suffered losses in the fire and the neighborhood never quite seemed the same after that.

I still remember most of the names of classmates, neighbors, and teachers from those days and I recognized many of the names of those who posted messages here. I wish all of you the best.

My compliments to Eric Morgan for the work he's done in putting this web site together.

Best Regards to all,

Serge Uccetta

sergeju@aol.com

When I was 8 years old and in the 3rd grade (I am now 58yrs)there was a house fire on our street and five children from the same family died. The oldest was a boy Johnny Whitcome. He made his first communion with me. The rest of the children were younger. That event stayed with me all my life. I think that is why I remember the O.L.A. fire story so vividly. I realise the fire I witnessed was not to the degree of the O.L.A. but in some ways the feeling are simaler. I to this day do not like sirenes from fire trucks. About 5yrs ago I went to the library to fine out infomation about the Whitcome fire and printed out the articles, also went to O.O.B. historical society for information. I asked my Dad what he remembered about that early morning fire that took place two weeks after Christmas. Tears came to his eyes and all he could say was "I always had my ladders on my truck but I took them off that night". He was an electrician. He was on his way to work that early morning when he could see the mother in the second story window at the time of the fire. She did make it. That was the first I had ever heard my Dad talk about the fire and I had to ask to get the infomation. As I am writing this a tear comes to my eyes.

I found this site by doing a search about the Hartford Conn. circus fire for a friend who was 2yrs old at the time and was at the circus.

I do not know if any body is interested in my story but I felt I had to tell it. I am not sure why I am rambeling on I quess I would like to say that maybe there are other people like me who remember the O.L.A fire from their childhood that was from a different part of the country. I wish all of you my best and God bless you all.

P.S. After looking at the diagram of the rooms on this website, it looks like I had been helping a 2nd grade teacher and not a first grade teacher. I remembered so many details of that day but I must have been mistaken about what grade I had been helping. I remember that the room I was helping was on the first floor right near the door and the room was across the hall from my homeroom which was on the second floor (201). The room I was helping was Room 102.

I was a full time RN at Oak Park Hospital, Oak Park, Illinois, at the time. My husband and I were dating and driving somewhere when we heard the radio plea for onlookers to stay clear of the area so that fire fighters and families could accomplish their mission. It was the 'talk of the hospital' the following day and a request for help came to all the medical personal in the surrounding areas. I went to the hospital, don't remember which one as someone else drove, and put in a shift or two with the burn victims......children. That was a sight I will never forget, though the details have faded for me. I remember hearing later that the little seven year old girl that I cared for had died.

During those times people, not only nuns, handled losses very differently. If I can remember the horror, I can only imagine how those survivors have spent their lives.

I have spent much of my life training and volunteering with bereavement groups in hospice, because we are learning more and more about confronting losses with honesty.

I guess the part of the newscast that bothered me last night, and always does, is the young reporter's notion that this was an unusual way to treat loss. It wasn't a correct way; but it definitely was not an unusual way in the past.

For the small part I have played in helping the victims, I needed to express my opinion, but especially my empathy to all who are still suffering the loss. I'm so glad to have found this website. I'm very emotional as I write this and am now realizing how cathartic it is for me to 'speak'. Thank you to all those who made this possible for 'telling the stories'. It is one of the most healing activities in our lives. Thanks for listening. If I can help, I will do anything I can. God Bless!

Most sincerely,

Doris Turner

dorjer@cox.net

I was in 3rd grade at St. Lucy`s the day of the fire, and I think I heard there was a fire that day, but I can`t be sure. Being eight years old I was pretty oblivious to the world outside my little comfort zone of friends and family.

About a week later we were in class, I was in the 3rd grade side of a 3rd and 4th grade classroom taught by one of the nuns from the Sisters of Mercy, when there was a knock at the door and in came the principal , another nun and a little girl. This litle girl I recognized as someone who had been in our 3rd grade class but had recently left our school.

Our sister stopped our class to tell us that this girl was returning to St. Lucy`s because there had been a fire at her new school. Her first day at her new school was supposed to be that Monday, December 1st,but her mother had told her to stay home and help clean up their new house. The story was something , but the way all 3 nuns looked at this girl was what really got me . So much so that I can tell you where they all stood in front of the room, that this girl,whose name I can`t remember, was short, thin and freckled faced , was standing up there looking terrified probably embarrassed to be up there in front of the room . But it was the way the nuns looked at her, like she was a gift or something , that really stuck in my memory . After the nuns told us the story the little girl took her seat in the last seat of the last row of the 3rd grade section of our room , and school went on, but from that point on I knew that something terrible had happened - exactly how terrible I had no clue.

As I grew up and moved around like I guess we all do, I would at times think about the fire at OLA. I would go to book stores and look for info on the fire but had no luck in finding out what happened.

Then a couple of years ago my wife found the book,To Sleep With The Angels. I couldn`t put it down. I read it in a day and a half. I thought it would satisfy my curiousity and give me some closure to my search. WRONG! I had no idea about the pain and suffering of the survivors. My search to find out more sort of obsessed me-at least that`s the word my wife has used. I tried to find Michele McBride`s book. I even contacted the publisher by phone because they don`t have a website. I was told that they had planned to republish the book , but the pain of Sept. 11 put that on hold . The lady I talked to said they thought people wouldn`t want to read about another tragic event. So I eventually found the book close to home in the LaGrange library. I read that book in a day and started searching the Internet for more info. I e-mailed Channel 11 and told them they should make a Chicago Stories of the OLA fire.

I could go on and on, but when I heard that Channel 11 was doing the story I looked for newspaper articles to describe it , and like I started out this story , that`s how I found this website.

What I think is the main point I`m trying to make here is that I think there a lot of us - how many? I don`t know- that really care and are concerned for the victims - living and dead-of the Our Lady of the Angels fire. We`ve been out here , some of us for a long time, trying to understand the what, why and the how of this tragedy. I hesitated to tell my story for a long time because I realize I don`t know how the victims and their families feel. I didn`t want to intrude , but I did want to tell all of you that there`s a bunch of us out here that really do care for all of you.

A special thanks to the Webmaster for this site and allowing me the chance to tell my story.

I was 8 years old the day of the fire and attended Orr Elementary School. However, my 2 best friends Kathleen Carr and Daine Karwacki went to OLA. Because I wanted to be with them, my parents were working on getting the money to send me to OLA and I was due to attend in 1959. The day of the fire I had a stomach ache and asked my Mother to let me stay home. Usually she would say no and send me off to school but that day she let me stay home. I sat at the window and watched all the children on our block...seems like hundreds... go off to school, including Kathleen and Diane. Sometime after lunch a family friend Rita Virgilio called our house to make sure we were OK because she saw black smoke coming from our area. She was at Garfield Park walking her babies around. My Mom thought she was kidding because we had a fire in our home once and the fireman had to take us out of the burning house.

My Mom decided we should take a walk and find out what was on fire, so we did. We followed the smoke and came upon OLA School, which was our parish and where we attended cathecism. We passed kids on the way whose clothes were torn and black and some were burnt. Walking home! We arrived at the schoold, I was holding my Mother's hand and we just stood there in horror, shocked and helpless. I began to cry for a family friend Gary and my best friend Kathleen and Diane. The whole day was total chaos and disbelief. I could not eat because I was worried about all the children but mostly wanted to know where about Gary, Kathleen and Diane. I remember my father crying at the table worried for all the families.

Gary arrived home, smoke stained and it took 3 days to find the bodies of Kathleen and Diane both burnt beyond recognition. I prayed everynight and thought for sure they were at someone's house.

I remember the moment a neighbor came to our front door with the news. My mother walked down our long hallway and I slipped out the upstairs hallway door to listen. My mother cried and then came up and did not say a word. When I asked she said they were just dropping something off. I was so frustrated that she would not tell me I remember yelling at the dinner table, "I know that Kathleen and Diane are in heaven, why won't you tell me!" I went to my room and cried. And in all honesty to this day, deep inside, I never have stopped crying about this whole tragedy. I could go on and on about each day that we learned of another child was found dead.

Many people on this message board have said, we just were not allowed to talk about it. It's true and I eventually went to counseling as an adult and those were the words I used! "They never let us talk about it!" To release my expereince, I have written articles about this fire and have used it for illustrations in public speaking.

I think it was too horrible to talk about for the surviving parents and they were on every block, everywhere we went. So if we were quiet, it seemed respectful to them.

One incident I will never forget was "after the fire". I walked across the street to my friend Kathleen's house. She was a red headed little cutie and had a play house in the backyard. Diane and I used to go there all the time. It is a great memory. But on this day, I went after the fire and knocked on the door to tell her Mom I missed Kathleen. Her Mother was so taken back she slammed the door in my face and soon after that they moved. I felt so bad and my mother scolded me for going there. I believe Kathleen was an only child. I sure would like to find her parents and just tell them how much I cared. Diane lived next door to Kathleen and her family build a fence that was so high no one could see over it. I saw her uncle on occasion but never her mother.

Interestedly, enough after that, I had no playmates on my block until I was about 12 years old. I played with my 3 brothers in the yard.

There is so much to tell about this event. Recently I connected with a man Larry Giantomas, who I have never met, due to a common bond of this fire. I want to thank the person who came up with this idea of a website. It is a blessing.

Life does go on, I had 2 children of my own and told them about the fire after they were adults. It took me that look to talk about it openly. I have 2 almost 3 grandchildren and I am very protective of their whereabouts. I think this is getting long but I am excited about being a part of this and hope to reconnect with some people from the old neighborhood.

A year or so ago I saw an article in the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel that a survivor of that fire was searching for the fireman who had saved his life.. I contacted this person...Larry Sorce who is now a business man in our area and we met.. He later drove me to Chicago to the old neighborhood and school and we visited the cemetery where Billy is buried.. I decorated his grave...I have been back to visit Billy's grave several times.. and decorate it.. Through Larry's help I contacted Billy's father and he told me all about the fire and how Billy had suffered and how he died nearly one year after the fire.. I have made arrangements with St. Joseph Cemetery to have Billy's grave decorated on his birthday and Christmas.. I never got the opportunity and privilege to meet Billy but to me he was my kid brother and I feel I have to respect his memory.. It is a miracle that I found his grave almost 40 years after the fire.

He told me bout it but he did not want to talk bout it. Cause no one did after it happened. I am glad he talked, remembered what he did. He would go into a depression. I met his friend Gary, his sister, she was burned, has night mares still to this day. I feel bad for them, and others. I went to a reunion by Linda for him, with a pic when he was 12.

I am so happy for him to talk get it out, maybe he will be okay at Thanks Giving when it started.

I am thankful for that, I hope he can rest now. Thank you for listening to me.

God Bless