Documents, newspaper clippings tell of a family tragedy in Seattle
Years ago, when I started offering to do research for clients, someone asked me why I was interested in researching other people’s families. Sure, it’s exciting to find long-forgotten stories or information about someone to whom I am related. But finding such information for clients is just as interesting and rewarding.
COMING TO AMERICA
Case in point: In 2023, I was hired by a local man who wanted to know more about is grandfather, Achille Ricci, born in 1882 in Molise, Italy, who immigrated the the United States and arrived at the Port of New York on Sept. 12, 1913. He was accompanied by his wife, Maria Antoinetta (Cimaglia) Ricci.
Finding the immigration records was fascinating. The arrival record for steerage passengers, filled out by the “States Immigration Officer” at the port of arrival, asked several intriguing questions:
• No. 19 — Was the immigrant “ever in prison or almshouse (poor house), or institution for care and treatment of the Insane, or supported by charity;
• No. 20 — Was the immigrant “a Polygamist”;
• No. 21 — Was the immigrant “an Anarchist”; and,
• No. 22 — Was the immigrant “coming by reason of any offer, solicitation, promise, or agreement, express or implied, to labor in the United States.
Achille’s answer to all of these questions was no. He also was deemed to be in good physical and mental health, with no deformities. His occupation in Italy was farm laborer, and he entered the country with $200 in his pocket (a lot of cash at that time); physically, he was described as standing 5 feet, 5 inches tall, being of “regular” complexion, and having brown eyes and brown hair. He was accompanied by his wife, Maria Antoinetta (Cimaglia) Ricci, who was described as 5 feet, 4 inches tall, also with the same complexion and hair color.
Married back in Italy, Achille and Antoinette were coming to the United States to join a cousin, Teodore De Vite in Seattle, Washington.
All very interesting stuff; they were documents my client had never seen before. Yet, none of them told the whole story; he told me that he never really knew how his grandfather, Achille, died.
LIFE IN SEATTLE, WASHINGTON
In the 1940 census, Achille and Antoinette are listed as living at 1839 Lane St., in Seattle, with two sons: Nichola “Nick” (b. 1914) and Henry (b. 1915), my client’s father and uncle, respectively. Achille is working at a meat packing plant; Nick is a machinist at a bolt factory; and Henry is a photographer.
By 1950, Antoinette is listed as a widow living in the same place, and Nick is living in the apartment building next door, with his wife Katherine, and their eldest sons; my client would join the family in 1951.
So, what happened to Achille? His marker is featured on Find-A-Grave, which states his date of death was February 18, 1943, but there is no information given about how he died at the age of 61. Did he die in the war? Probably not, given his age.
A TRAGEDY HITS THE FAMILY
Fortunately, his death certificate explains it all: “Immediate cause of death: Suffocation from smoke and burns of entire body in Frye Packing Plant fire after airplane crash into building.”
Wait. What?
Thank God for the companies who are digitizing newspapers into searchable databases; for me, they have always been worth the subscription costs. (Though there are many out there that are free.)
My search led me to many articles published in papers throughout Washington State about the incident. And an internet search led me to a 2021 article on HistoryLink.org by Phil Dougherty, that was a comprehensive overview of everything that happened that somber day.
According to Dougherty, the plane that crashed into the plant wasn’t just any aircraft. It was the second of Boeing’s top-secret XB-29 prototype Superfortress bomber. Because it was wartime, much of the information wasn’t revealed about the plane, itself, until after the war was over. But it turns out it was a prototype of the B-29 that would drop the first atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Japan, to defeat the Japanese Imperial Army, which had bombed Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, in 1941; the attack, of course, that brought the United States into the war.
“The four-engine bomber was commissioned by the U.S. Army Air Corps, that wanted a plane that could fly higher and farther than the B-17,” Dougherty writes.
He explains that the pilot was the widely respected Edmund T. “Eddie” Allen, a veteran of World War I, one of the first test pilots hired for the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics (which later became NASA, the National Aeronautics and Space Administration). In 1942, he had successfully tested the first XB-29 prototype, safely landing the plane after one of the engines caught fire while in flight.
The second prototype took off from Boeing field at 12:09 on February 18, 1943, which Dougherty described as “a pleasant day” with high clouds, moderate temperatures and a 5 mph breeze coming from the south. Described as “bold, but not reckless,” Allen was piloting the plane that day with 10 crewmen aboard. Eight minutes after takeoff, a fire broke out in the No. 1 engine on the outside of the left wing. The engine was cut off and the fire extinguished, but Allen had decided to return to Boeing Field. Before he could get there, though, the engine fire rekindled; it didn’t appear to be serious at first, but by 12:25, witnesses said they heard an explosion that sounded “like a loud backfire” and watched as a piece of metal fell from the plane.
While Boeing ground crews prepared for the imminent emergency landing, the plane, loaded with 5,000 pounds of fuel, lost altitude rapidly as it flew over the eastern suburbs of Seattle, with parts still falling from the sky. The fire spread rapidly on the plane, with smoke and flames pouring into the fuselage. Witnesses saw four men jump from the plane to escape the flames that were burning them; sadly, none of their parachutes deployed and all of them died.
When the plane hit the Frye Packing plant minutes later, Achille Ricci was working in the slaughter room and was among the 20 employees who died that day, along with the pilot and remaining crewmen on board. One firefighter responding to the scene also died, bringing the final death toll to 32. The fire also killed 80 hogs that had been in the slaughter room. Newspaper reports stated that the incident caused a shortage of meat during a time when nearly everything Americans needed were restricted by war rations.
One saving grace was that hundreds of employees had left the building, or at least the area where the crash occurred, for their lunch break. Had the accident occurred even just a few minutes later, reports stated, the death toll would have been much higher, Dougherty writes.
This was probably the worst tragedy I’ve encountered while doing research for clients, friends, and my own family. As sad as it is, though, my client was grateful to know the whole story about how his grandfather died. It was devastating for his family, and it seems that Antoinette never recovered, emotionally, from the tragic loss of her husband.
The discovery of these stories often is painful. But in the end, understanding how the trauma from such a tragedy can play a role in shaping family dynamics can often answer a lot of questions for the person researching their family tree. Clearly, such the trauma endured by his surviving in the aftermath of his tragic death likely had a dramatic impact in that family’s dynamics and the trajectory of their lives.
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