DALE'S RESTAURANT, MONTGOMERY

On Feb. 7, 1967, fire swept Dale's, a rooftop restaurant in Montgomery, Alabama, killing 26 people.


By JOHN HUSSEY

MONTGOMERY, Alabama (UPI) - People clung to the ledge on the 10th floor of the apartment house, outlined by spotlights and with flames dancing 30 feet into the air behind them.
Some called for help.

"God help us," yelled an elderly man.

"Help! Help! Get us down," begged a woman from the ledge 100 feet up.

Firemen were laying out hoses. Some were already manning high pressure nozzles and spraying water up on the penthouse.

The street was electric with tension but the activity was orderly and no one at the time seemed to have any idea of the terrible tragedy to be unfolded.

I was among the first two or three newsmen to arrive at the scene of the Dale's restaurant fire which was to take a high toll of lives.

I was attracted by a bulletin on my car radio. I was stunned because UPI State Manager Randolph Pendleton and I had dined at Dale's only the night before.

The restaurant was one of the more popular eating places in Montgomery, not only for the food but for the view. Large glass windows allow a panoramic view of the city, including the State Capitol about a mile away.

The restaurant was at the very top of the apartment building, a stone-faced structure that won an architectural award when it was built in 1954.

The fire was only about 20 minutes old when I drove up to the scene.

In the lobby, there were worried looks but officials were telling everyone that they didn't think there were any casualties.

As the minutes ticked by this proved to be a dreadful understatement.

The first notice that this was more than a routine fire in which patrons were driven out into sub-freezing weather came when two bodies, wrapped in canvas shrouds, were brought by firemen out a rear door.

"We think that's all," a fireman said.

That, too, proved to be a gross understatement.

A fireman made his way into the restaurant then located a pile of humanity huddled in a corner away from the searing flames. His radio report revealed the extent of the disaster.

"There are a lot of bodies up here," he reported on walkie-talkie.

Survivors told me what had happened.

WARREN GARRISON of South Field, Mich., was among those rescued from the ledge by firemen crawling up an extension ladder. He had crawled to the six-foot ledge by breaking a large plate glass window.

GARRISON was covered with water from the hoses but at that hour he still was being assured that the two friends he had left behind would turn up all right.

"I don't believe it," GARRISON said. "I think they are still up there."

While firemen fought to control the flames, roaring out three corners of the restaurant, rescuers dashed from door to door in the apartment building.

One woman, apparently in shock, was taken to a sofa in the lobby.

"No, No. I don't want to go," she screamed over and over as friends tried to get her into an ambulance and to a hospital.

It soon became apparent that the toll in the fire would be much greater than at first feared.

Pendleton and I started counting the bodies as they were trundled out of the building and to a caravan of ambulances lined up in the street.

The count rose from five to seven, to nine and then jumped as groups of four and five bodies were brought out.

The temperature dropped steadily in the wee hours of the morning down into the mid 20s and water cascading from the penthouse formed sheets of ice on the street below.

Pendleton and I had only a few hours earlier debated whether to have supper again at the restaurant where we had eaten the night before. We chose another restaurant instead.

And as I walked away this morning I heard a weary fireman says:

"I don't think I can go up there again. I'll never forget it."

Neither will I.