KinSource - Tale of the Week - The Platform Fell

KinSource

Minnesota Tales

The St. Paul Daily Globe, October 26, 1885, p. 2

THE PLATFORM FELL.

The Chorus at Last Night's Temperance Meeting Shaken Up.

Fully 2,500 people had seated themselves in the exposition rink last night ten minutes before the hour for opening the anniversary temperance meeting. On the stage or platform, some four or five feet high, were several of the clergymen who were to take part in the exercises, the orchestra and about thirty ladies and gentlemen, who composed the chorus. Some of the ladies were young and pretty and some were older. A small table stood immediately in the center, with a pitcher of ice water and a bouquet upon it. A dozen or more chairs, besides those already taken, were also there. All at once there was a sort of cracking noise that seemed to come from somewhere beneath the platform. Some of the young ladies that made up the chorus jumped nervously, and almost on the instant there [came] a loud crash. The rear support for a section of the stage fell to the floor, while the front support held, forming a sharp incline. Those who were looking saw the chorus drop --- some who were on the rear platform directly out of sight, while the chairs further up the incline simply tipped over, landing the occupants on their heads or thereabouts, and then slid down to where the rest were. There was a brief glimpse of some twenty pairs of feet and ankles, belonging to strong men and pretty girls, bristling in the air, while the little table, with the pitcher of ice water and the bouquet, were sent flying down toward the mixture. The chairs, too, were piled up pretty generally in the mass. The audience rose to its feet, for the most part, and said "O-h-h!" Some rushed down the aisles and a few went on that part of the stage that was still in position. Although, for a moment, it seemed as if there had been a catastrophe, there was nothing that could properly be called a panic, for in a minute two or three of the young ladies had picked themselves out, and came bounding up the incline, smiling through their tears, as it were, and arranging their toilets that had suffered no more than a slight tumble and a little water, possibly, from the pitcher. In five minutes everybody was serene; not one was hurt; the table was placed to one side; the chairs were rearranged, and Mr. Nathan Ford, the chorister, announced that the audience would please join in singing, "Rescue the Perishing."