They were Earth's purist children - young and fair

The hundreds of children and their mothers stood packed on the Third Street Landing, waiting to board the riverboat steamer "General Slocum." The St. Mark's Lutheran Evangelical Church had chartered the "General" to take the poor East Side families on a summer cruise up the East River. The families were from the heavily Protestant German enclave in New York called the "Weiss Garden." Every summer, St. Mark's sponsored a picnic for the people of the Weiss Garden neighborhood. Today they were headed for Locust Grove on Huntington Bay for a day of fun. The "General" was typical of the riverboats of the era; wooden hull, decks close to the water, promenade decks guarded by two tall smoke stacks. Today she was bedecked in fluttering pennants and even had an oompah band on board to add to the party atmosphere.

On 15 June, 1904, the "General Slocum" sounded its whistle and pulled into the current of the East River and headed North. Underneath the gaiety the "Slocum" was a deathtrap. Uninspected for years, the wooden frame of the ship was caked in layers of paint and varnish, her crew had never performed a fire drill and her fire hoses were rotten from neglect. An hour after leaving the third street pier a fire broke out in a paint locker amidships.

Horrified onlookers on shore watched in amazement as, instead of tying up at the nearest pier, her captain continued full speed upriver into a brisk breeze, determined to beach the riverboat at Brother Island. The wind fanned the flames aft-ward until the ship was an inferno from the stacks to the stern. The terrified passengers packed the stern of the ship until the rails cracked under the strain, spilling women and children into the water. Nearby ships tried to attempt rescue, a tug managed to come up alongside and take off several dozen before she too caught fire and had to withdraw. Fire boats were called, but could not approach due to the throngs struggling in the river. Thirty minutes later, the "General Slocum" beached on Brother Island, a burned out hulk. Of the 1300 women and children on board, 955 were dead, 180 injured. Only 251 escaped unscathed. The East river was thick with bodies for days.

Long lines of hearses jammed the black-creped streets of the lower East Side, and the Weiss Garden wailed with funerals. On Friday the 17th, there were hundreds of services at 37 churches - 114 at St. Mark's Evangelical Lutheran alone. Then there were hundreds more on Saturday and Sunday.

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