Chicago Heat Wave, 1995
Recently passed was the 10th anniversary of the Chicago heat wave of 1995. Over 700 people died of the heat. Mostly the poor and/or elderly and/or minority. Here is the long-winded story of how it affected my life...
At the time it was happening, I lived on the third floor of a 3 floor building on the SE corner of Chicago and Damen, 1959 W. Chicago Avenue, Apartment 3R. I didn't have air conditioning at the time. It had been a hot early summer, I recall it being really hot both before and after the "official" heat wave.
I used 2 box fans to cool me off wherever I was in the apartment. It was a hot enough summer already.
I really loved that apartment, it was charming. Even though, when I moved in, the walls were a Pepto-Bismol pink with black trim. Some friends and I soon re-painted it with light grey walls and medium gray trim. A very large kitchen, with a built in oak hutch and an old fashioned farmer's type sink. I imported a large, 18" wide, 6 foot tall three shelf pantry like thing I had scavenged from the alley behind Sean and Myron's. The toilet was in a closet type of space, and the bathtub was in another room that had obviously been a 2nd bedroom at one time. There was a closet in this room, and I used it as storage and an additional pantry. The living room was about 20x12 or so, kind of big, and the bedroom was off of that. I had a borrowed 12" black and white TV..and I was happy with that. And my stereo. There was a large but narrow window in the bedroom. The windows in the living room were huge...you could stand on the sills and spread your arms out in them, and barely touch the frames. The height of the frames was at least 8 feet. There was a clear view of the south/southwest/west/northwest sky...I could always watch storms rolling in. Something I like to do. Because whatever I have going on inside is less violent than a thuderstorm. I get some kind of resolution and closure out of them. See, it will be over, and the sun will shine and the birds will sing.
My dad had called me a week previous to the official heat wave..he knew I didn't have an air conditioner, and wanted to know if he could send me the money to buy one. There weren't any to buy, all the stores were out of them. He said no problem, I'll buy one down here(Florida) and ship it to you. Which he did. I'll never forget the kindness.
Monday, July 16th, 1995 was really hot. The apartment was stifling, even with the faithful box fans going full force. I could not sleep. Sometime around midnight, I got up and found a left-over 5mg. Valium from an old prescription and took it. I had started a new job on July 5..and I needed to get some rest. Layed down and went to sleep. About 2:45 AM..something woke me. The silence, maybe. The fans were silent, and my clock was blinking ..12:00...12:00...12:00....or was it the crackle of walkie-talkies? But I woke up. I saw smoke. Heavy smoke. I laid there for another 5 seconds..unbelieving. I saw shafts of light from emergency vehicles poking through the smoke. Then I thought FIRE.
The first thing I did was stand up..the smoke was at just above head level. I wrapped a bedsheet around myself. I saw Spot, my cat, and grabbed him to stuff him into the carrier, but he wormed away from me and ran. I couldn't see the other 2 cats. I thought, okay...you have to save yourself. I walked to the door of my apartment, and, for some reason, I remembered those public service announcements that said when you vacate in a fire, put your hand against the door. If the door is hot..find another way out. I put my hand against the door...and got 2nd degree burns on my palm. Okay...can't go out that way. For some reason, when faced with true danger, I get ultra calm and rational.
I immediately went(crawled..the smoke was thicker and heavier and closer to the ground now, and starting to make me cough a lot) to my living room window, and set the plants that were on the window sill aside, and opened the window. I don't remember if I yelled for help, I think I did...but I do know the firemen had a ladder up there in about 10 seconds. The freaking second I had the window open, amidst all the other noise and confusion, they saw and heard me at that window. They were all yelling hold on hold on hold on!
There was a ladder up to my window, and a fireman with me in my apartment in a hearbeat. This man "ran" up the ladder. The fireman instructed me on how to exit. "but my cats" I said. "forget about your cats" said he. I had to climb up on the windowsill, get halfway out the window and turn around, 35 feet off the ground ..butt facing away from the building...and climb down the ladder. Whilst clutching my bedsheet, I was naked save for the bedsheet. And I'm afraid of heights.
The rungs on the ladder were of a corrugated finish...and the corrugations dug into my feet, and hurt. The fireman was below me on the ladder shouting hurry, hurry, hurry. They ALL were yelling hurry, hurry, hurry. Ouch, ouch, ouch. I did my best.
The SECOND I got off that ladder, a colony of firemen, like a column of ants, were back up it in a flash, chopping holes in the roof of my building, not 30 seconds later. I could hear the crunching of wood, the yelling of people doing important work. Venting the fire.
In the 2nd second I got off that ladder, people from the Red Cross were there, asking me if I needed a place to stay, or some food? They go to all the fires, Bless them. And the paramedics, making sure my breathing was okay, and nothing was broken or injured. They treated the burns on the palm of my left hand.
In the 3rd second I got off that ouchy ladder and onto the ground, this nice(A surprise!)Wood District lady cop asked me if there was anything she could do for me. "my cats" I said. "I have 3 cats up there." She hustled right over to the fire commander at the scene and said something...but 10 minutes later, 1 of my cats was in her squad car. I got Mikey a little later.
My most vivid remembrance of that whole night is of the Puma sitting in the driver's seat of a Chicago cop car, rather enjoying himself. And the cop telling me she was allergic to cats, poor girl!
The fire happened because the landlord had the electrical for 3 buildings(residential and restaurants, too)running off of one circuit breaker box, which was located in an old, unused ventilation shaft , located acroos the hall from the door to my apartment. The box overloaded and caught fire, which was fed by air coming up the shaft.
I found my third cat in the apartment 3 days after the fire. Spot. I was sure he had perished in the fire, but my land-lady(who wasn't the owner)said let's check one more time. We looked around. Nothing. The she lifted up the front of the love-seat. I looked under it and saw four little cat feet balanced on the frame. Spot had hidden himself up inside the love-seat. We pulled the love-seat away from the wall, I got my sharpest knife, felt where Spot was, and cut around him, and freed him. I still have Spot, and he still has me.
I had renter's insurance, luckily. Everything I was not able to save was replaced. But it was still a huge bummer to lose that apartment.
Some guys stole the built in oak hutch that was in the apartment....it was seen being wheeled away down Chicago Ave. a few days later, LOL!
The air-conditioner my father mailed me arrived the Friday after the fire, and I used it up until 3 years ago, then gave it to my friend Bob, who is still using it today. A fine machine!
At the time it was happening, I lived on the third floor of a 3 floor building on the SE corner of Chicago and Damen, 1959 W. Chicago Avenue, Apartment 3R. I didn't have air conditioning at the time. It had been a hot early summer, I recall it being really hot both before and after the "official" heat wave.
I used 2 box fans to cool me off wherever I was in the apartment. It was a hot enough summer already.
I really loved that apartment, it was charming. Even though, when I moved in, the walls were a Pepto-Bismol pink with black trim. Some friends and I soon re-painted it with light grey walls and medium gray trim. A very large kitchen, with a built in oak hutch and an old fashioned farmer's type sink. I imported a large, 18" wide, 6 foot tall three shelf pantry like thing I had scavenged from the alley behind Sean and Myron's. The toilet was in a closet type of space, and the bathtub was in another room that had obviously been a 2nd bedroom at one time. There was a closet in this room, and I used it as storage and an additional pantry. The living room was about 20x12 or so, kind of big, and the bedroom was off of that. I had a borrowed 12" black and white TV..and I was happy with that. And my stereo. There was a large but narrow window in the bedroom. The windows in the living room were huge...you could stand on the sills and spread your arms out in them, and barely touch the frames. The height of the frames was at least 8 feet. There was a clear view of the south/southwest/west/northwest sky...I could always watch storms rolling in. Something I like to do. Because whatever I have going on inside is less violent than a thuderstorm. I get some kind of resolution and closure out of them. See, it will be over, and the sun will shine and the birds will sing.
My dad had called me a week previous to the official heat wave..he knew I didn't have an air conditioner, and wanted to know if he could send me the money to buy one. There weren't any to buy, all the stores were out of them. He said no problem, I'll buy one down here(Florida) and ship it to you. Which he did. I'll never forget the kindness.
Monday, July 16th, 1995 was really hot. The apartment was stifling, even with the faithful box fans going full force. I could not sleep. Sometime around midnight, I got up and found a left-over 5mg. Valium from an old prescription and took it. I had started a new job on July 5..and I needed to get some rest. Layed down and went to sleep. About 2:45 AM..something woke me. The silence, maybe. The fans were silent, and my clock was blinking ..12:00...12:00...12:00....or was it the crackle of walkie-talkies? But I woke up. I saw smoke. Heavy smoke. I laid there for another 5 seconds..unbelieving. I saw shafts of light from emergency vehicles poking through the smoke. Then I thought FIRE.
The first thing I did was stand up..the smoke was at just above head level. I wrapped a bedsheet around myself. I saw Spot, my cat, and grabbed him to stuff him into the carrier, but he wormed away from me and ran. I couldn't see the other 2 cats. I thought, okay...you have to save yourself. I walked to the door of my apartment, and, for some reason, I remembered those public service announcements that said when you vacate in a fire, put your hand against the door. If the door is hot..find another way out. I put my hand against the door...and got 2nd degree burns on my palm. Okay...can't go out that way. For some reason, when faced with true danger, I get ultra calm and rational.
I immediately went(crawled..the smoke was thicker and heavier and closer to the ground now, and starting to make me cough a lot) to my living room window, and set the plants that were on the window sill aside, and opened the window. I don't remember if I yelled for help, I think I did...but I do know the firemen had a ladder up there in about 10 seconds. The freaking second I had the window open, amidst all the other noise and confusion, they saw and heard me at that window. They were all yelling hold on hold on hold on!
There was a ladder up to my window, and a fireman with me in my apartment in a hearbeat. This man "ran" up the ladder. The fireman instructed me on how to exit. "but my cats" I said. "forget about your cats" said he. I had to climb up on the windowsill, get halfway out the window and turn around, 35 feet off the ground ..butt facing away from the building...and climb down the ladder. Whilst clutching my bedsheet, I was naked save for the bedsheet. And I'm afraid of heights.
The rungs on the ladder were of a corrugated finish...and the corrugations dug into my feet, and hurt. The fireman was below me on the ladder shouting hurry, hurry, hurry. They ALL were yelling hurry, hurry, hurry. Ouch, ouch, ouch. I did my best.
The SECOND I got off that ladder, a colony of firemen, like a column of ants, were back up it in a flash, chopping holes in the roof of my building, not 30 seconds later. I could hear the crunching of wood, the yelling of people doing important work. Venting the fire.
In the 2nd second I got off that ladder, people from the Red Cross were there, asking me if I needed a place to stay, or some food? They go to all the fires, Bless them. And the paramedics, making sure my breathing was okay, and nothing was broken or injured. They treated the burns on the palm of my left hand.
In the 3rd second I got off that ouchy ladder and onto the ground, this nice(A surprise!)Wood District lady cop asked me if there was anything she could do for me. "my cats" I said. "I have 3 cats up there." She hustled right over to the fire commander at the scene and said something...but 10 minutes later, 1 of my cats was in her squad car. I got Mikey a little later.
My most vivid remembrance of that whole night is of the Puma sitting in the driver's seat of a Chicago cop car, rather enjoying himself. And the cop telling me she was allergic to cats, poor girl!
The fire happened because the landlord had the electrical for 3 buildings(residential and restaurants, too)running off of one circuit breaker box, which was located in an old, unused ventilation shaft , located acroos the hall from the door to my apartment. The box overloaded and caught fire, which was fed by air coming up the shaft.
I found my third cat in the apartment 3 days after the fire. Spot. I was sure he had perished in the fire, but my land-lady(who wasn't the owner)said let's check one more time. We looked around. Nothing. The she lifted up the front of the love-seat. I looked under it and saw four little cat feet balanced on the frame. Spot had hidden himself up inside the love-seat. We pulled the love-seat away from the wall, I got my sharpest knife, felt where Spot was, and cut around him, and freed him. I still have Spot, and he still has me.
I had renter's insurance, luckily. Everything I was not able to save was replaced. But it was still a huge bummer to lose that apartment.
Some guys stole the built in oak hutch that was in the apartment....it was seen being wheeled away down Chicago Ave. a few days later, LOL!
The air-conditioner my father mailed me arrived the Friday after the fire, and I used it up until 3 years ago, then gave it to my friend Bob, who is still using it today. A fine machine!
posted by April at 12:19 AM
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