On this date in 1990, a fire set by a spurned boyfriend at the Happy Land nightclub in the Bronx killed 87 people, mostly Honduran immigrants celebrating the Punta Carnivale weekend. Recently unemployed and just dumped by his girlfriend (who worked in the club’s coat check), Julio Gonzalez purchased $1 worth of gasoline from the local Amoco station, dumped it at the entrance of the club and lit a match. Mark Gado of the Crime Library describes in chilling detail what happened next:
On the second floor, the music was blasting and most in the crowd were unaware of what was happening. They had no way of knowing they had just minutes to live. The fire burned ferociously within the enclosed hallway as the inside door began to glow red from the heat. The D.J., Ruben Valladarez, saw what was happening and tried to warn the crowd. He could see the fire down below from the 2nd floor landing. He stopped the music, raised up the houselights and screamed to the crowd. Some people began to take notice and tried to exit. They crowded around the stairway to go down but were turned back by the smoke and the heat. The situation was becoming desperate…
The people on the top of the steps screamed and fled in terror. “Fuego! Fuego!” they screamed. Within seconds, a huge cloud of toxic, black smoke filled the staircase. As the blaze began to feed upon itself, the heat increased dramatically. The realization of a fire then became immediate to everyone. Soon the crowd on the dance floor was in a full panic as the black smoke poured unobstructed into the room. There were no windows in the 60’ by 20’ club. People instinctively fell to the floor face down where at least they could breathe if only for seconds. For some it was already too late. Those sitting at the tables had already inhaled the poison gasses and a few breaths of such a mixture is all it takes…
Some patrons were later found sitting at their tables still clutching their drinks. Those closest to the stairwell died first, where 19 bodies were later found in a pile. Some had severe burns, but all died from smoke inhalation…
The fire roared like an express train out of control. People were screaming and fighting each other to get to the stairway. But the way out was fully engulfed by flames. In less than three minutes, the second floor was filled with dense, compacted smoke and lethal gases, which were concentrated to extremely high levels. By the dozens, the partygoers fell into unconsciousness, stumbling onto the chairs, tables and each other. The fire continued to burn unmercifully, sending superheated gases into the room, filling every nook and cranny, every corner, every square inch of space with poison smoke until the crying, the panic and the suffering stopped. Then, there was only silence. Silence but for the persistent sounds of reggae and Honduran calypso still playing in the background, a faint reminder of the brutality of life and the indiscriminate cruelty of death…
Read the entire account here.
