Goody Goodelle

So Ye Olde Kid Sister (YOKS) calls me up this morning to wish me Happy Birthday and informs me that they renamed the street in front of the Cocoanut Grove Nightclub from Shawmut Street Extension to Cocoanut Grove Lane.

In my mind I thought yeah that’s right, I am going to post a blog entry on … November 28 … oh ‘sh1+’. Well with the Mrs in hospital the week before Thanksgiving and the Thanksgiving holiday (where I did all the cooking), I suppose you can forgive me for not getting this out on time.

– – –


The Cocoanut Grove was Boston’s premier nightclub during the post-Prohibition 1930s and 1940s. On November 28, 1942, this club was the scene of the deadliest nightclub fire in history, killing 492 people (which was 32 more than the building’s authorized capacity) and injuring hundreds more. The enormity of the tragedy shocked the nation and briefly replaced the events of World War II in newspaper headlines. It led to a reform of safety standards and codes across the country, and major changes in the treatment and rehabilitation of burn victims.

It was the second-deadliest single-building fire in American history; only the 1903 Iroquois Theatre fire in Chicago had a higher death toll, of 602.

Official reports state that the fire started at about 10:15 p.m. in the dark, intimate Melody Lounge downstairs. A young pianist and singer, Goody Goodelle, was performing on a revolving stage, surrounded by artificial palm trees. It was believed that a young man, possibly a soldier, had removed a light bulb in order to give himself privacy while kissing his date. Stanley Tomaszewski—a 16-year-old busboy—was instructed to put the light back on by retightening the bulb. As he attempted to tighten the light bulb in its socket, the bulb fell from his hand. In the dimly-lit lounge, Tomaszewski, unable to see the socket, lit a match to illuminate the area, found the socket, extinguished the match, and replaced the bulb. Almost immediately, patrons saw something ignite in the canopy of artificial palm fronds draped above the tables (although the official report doubts the connection between the match and the subsequent fire).

Despite waiters’ efforts to douse the fire with water, it quickly spread along the fronds of the palm tree, igniting decorations on the walls and ceiling. Flames raced up the stairway to the main level, burning the hair of patrons stumbling up the stairs. A fireball burst across the central dance floor as the orchestra was beginning its evening show. Flames raced through the adjacent Caricature Bar, then down a corridor to the Broadway Lounge. Within five minutes, flames had spread to the main clubroom and the entire nightclub was ablaze.

As is common in panic situations, many patrons attempted to exit through the main entrance, the same way they had entered. The building’s main entrance was a single revolving door, rendered useless as the panicked crowd scrambled for safety. Bodies piled up behind both sides of the revolving door, jamming it to the extent that firefighters had to dismantle it to enter. Later, after fire laws had tightened, it would become illegal to have only one revolving door as a main entrance without being flanked by outward opening doors with panic bar openers attached, or have the revolving doors set up so that the doors could fold against themselves in emergency situations.

Other avenues of escape were similarly useless: side doors had been bolted shut to prevent people from leaving without paying. A plate glass window, which could have been smashed for escape, was boarded up and unusable as an emergency exit. Other unlocked doors, like the ones in the Broadway Lounge, opened inwards, rendering them useless against the crush of people trying to escape. Fire officials later testified that, had the doors swung outwards, at least 300 lives could have been spared. Many young soldiers perished in the disaster, as well as a newly married couple.

As night deepened, the temperature dropped. Water on cobblestones froze. Hoses froze to the ground. Newspaper trucks were appropriated as ambulances. From nearby bars, soldiers and sailors raced to assist. On the street, firefighters lugged out bodies and were treated for burned hands. Smoldering bodies, living and dead, were hosed in icy water. Some victims had ingested fumes so hot that when they inhaled cold air, as one firefighter put it, they dropped like stones.

Later, during the cleanup of the building, firefighters found several dead guests sitting in their seats, with drinks in their hands. They had been overcome so quickly by fire and toxic smoke that they didn’t have time to move.

My Buddy was at Ft. Sumpter, S. Carolina Basic
training. I sure missed him. The owner
asked me to stay on. I met a Dr. Yurkanis
he was interning at City Hosp Boston. He
would come in on weekends, sit at the end of the bar
drinking Southern Comfort and Coke. His favorite
song ‘Somebody’s Thinking Of You Tonight.”
Well Sat. following Thanksgiving Nov-28-1942 Sat
I was singing around 10 P.M. As the stage revolved
I looked at my watch 10.15 P.M, heard the bartender
tell the 14 yr old busboy to put bulb back in
tree, as people wanted to be in the dark. Well
he struck a match to see what he was doing
and all hell broke loose. My fingers froze on
(I kept saying don’t panic don’t panic)
the piano keys. I was up + down on the bench
fire caught on tufted ceiling + I ran from
piano to opening in bar to get out grabbing
cashier behind me. She didn’t want to leave
register. Told her “you can come back if they
put it out” We went into kitchen which I
found 2 nights before. They were all busy
I told them the lounge was on fire they
thought I was pulling a joke. We ran
up behind stage as floor show was going
on. Bartender in front of us. I saw them
pulling blackout curtains. Tearing at them
A door was in between the windows. They
tried to open door but it was locked inside
couldn’t make it. They tried with huge 2×4
to no avail. Then after the blackout curtains
were down. I noticed iron bars going across
almost hysterical, I kept saying I’ll never
fit, I’ll never fit, thru those bars. Then
I saw these people holding on to the bars
feet first and sliding out. Janette the
cashier went out ahead of me, then I
was outside, falling on a pile of sand as
they were using it for cement for a
new lounge in front. Janette went hysterical
saying, “if it wasn’t for you I’d be in there”
Her husband was overseas, + she had a
month old baby. I had a red velvet gown
on. Running thru street looking for a phone
I had got my pay + it was in my dressing room
upstairs, before I went out that window I
wanted to go upstairs, but I thought no.
I finally found a phone and called my mother, she
didn’t have a radio on + knew something was
wrong. Thought there was a shooting. Some
friends were with her + they drove her to
Park St. Garage, near “Statler Hotel” I
was freezing, it was so cold. I was OK until
I saw my mom, then it was over. The bodies
were piled 4 feet high in revolving door. 500
lives lost. Everyone was looking for me. Riva
was doing a club date. Going to pick me up when
she + Depietro came across the commotion, fire
engines, laundry trucks, newspaper trucks all
putting bodies in. My cousin Artie saw a girl
in red gown, charcoal from fire, thought it was
me + passed out. (Back in 1939, changed my name
to “Goody Goodelle” I had to have a name to
go with Goody so I chose Goodelle) Well I got
home + people didn’t know whether to call
or not, they thought I was gone. I don’t think
I slept that night, my sister finally
called and came home. Next day was Sunday
telephone ringing off the hook. Flower came
in droves – wires, telegrams, cablegrams



Cocoanut Grove Fire Images

– – –

When we were kids, YOKS and I would occasionally hear our parents talking about the Cocoanut Grove Fire, but hey we were kids … what did we know. It meant nothing to us. Then several years ago, well more than several, YOKS sent me some images of stuff of our Mom’s that she had scanned (after Mom and Aunt Ri died in a car crash over fourteen years ago). If you have read any of my earlier blogs, you know that my mother worried incessantly … drove me crazy. Her worrying rubbed off on me and it took me a long time to shake it off. My Dad never worried or at least never appeared to worry. Maybe that is why Mom married him.

My Mom had two sisters and a brother: Aunt Lily, Aunt Riva, and Uncle Buddy. Several times when I was a kid Mom, Dad, YOKS, Aunt Ri, and I would go to Boston on vacation. One of the people we would visit was Dr. Edward Yurkanis (‘Yurky’ as Aunt Ri would call him). He was a prominant Anesthesiologist. I vividly remember the time we were lost in the fog on his yacht one night.

Nobody new about PTSD in 1942, but one might suspect that anyone surviving the Cocoanut Grove Fire might have a severe case of PTSD, not to mention Survivor Guilt, and any other mental illness one might suffer from if you were one of a handful of people who barely escaped one of the worst tragedies to date. Knowing that your friends and coworkers died horrible deaths, seeing bodies piled four feet high trying to escape, knowing that you personally witnessed it start and could do nothing to stop it – had to leave deep emotional scars. Goody had only been working at the Cocoanut Grove a few weeks and was only 25 at the time of the fire. I now know that Goody had a complete nervous breakdown after the fire and was a recluse for months afterwards.

If you ‘google’ Goody Goodelle on the web you won’t find much beyond the few lines in Wikipedia or any of the other reports of the fire. “A young pianist and singer, Goody Goodelle, was performing on a revolving stage, surrounded by artificial palm trees.” You might even find a picture or two, or a rare vintage record album.

– – –



To her mother she was Gorizia. Everyone else knew her as Goody. Except for my sister and I … to us she will always just be … Mom.


Goody Goodelle (1917 – 1998)

20 thoughts on “Goody Goodelle

  1. Incredible. I’m aware of the Coconut Grove fire, but I don’t think I ever read anything about survivors, especially anything so close and personal as your account of your Mom’s experience. Overwhelming.


  2. It’s pretty incredible when you think of what our mom went through all those years ago. She carried the memories of that night with her for the rest of her life.

    You mentioned Ed Yurkanis – we always knew him as Uncle Ed. Mom’s notes talk about him always asking for the song “Somebody’s Thinking of You Tonight.” She used to tell another story about him, as well. Several days after the fire, when a lot of folks thought Mom had died, she received a dozen roses delivered to her mom’s house. (She still lived at home with her mom at the time.) The card with the roses read: “Somebody’s thinking of you tonight.” No signature. My mom’s sister, our Aunt Riva, called the florist and tracked down the person who’d sent the flowers: Dr. Edward Yurkanis. (I think he was in love with her, and had she not met our dad, our last name might have been Yurkanis!) He remained a friend for the rest of his life. Mom talked about him being instrumental (pardon the pun) in getting her to play the piano again. She didn’t want to play after the fire. Uncle Ed visited her often and encouraged her to play again. I’m not sure if she would have ever touched the piano again if not for him. It used to give me goose bumps when she talked about him, and that song, and the roses.

    She was an incredible person who survived an unspeakable tragedy. Yes, she worried . . . a lot. But I understand why. She learned at a 25 just how fragile life is. How it can end in the blink of an eye. She worried for everyone she loved. And she loved a lot of people! She was a wonder, and I only wish I’d had a better understanding of the fire and all she went through while she was still with us.


  3. Reblogged this on Contrafactual and commented:

    Did I mention that my mother was a compulsive worrier? (see previous reblog “”)


  4. Robin, My brother Richard somehow found this blog, and it is amazing. The last time I saw you was in Tampa when your Mom was in the hospital and Riva had already passed. Don’t know if you remember me living with you back in early 1963 in Wilton Manors, Nora Riva was still in her crib. I am still in Ft. Lauderdale, retired, but working a 4 hour day with the Sunrise Police Dept to staybusy. Just had my 80th birthday, my cars are a Porsche Boxster “S”, Mercedes AMG Cabriolet, and a Nissian Infiniti Sport”. Are you still in Texas and where is Nora Ri? Drop me a line to Uncle Jim Guarino

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Hello,
    In 2013, the Cocoanut Grove Memorial Committee petitioned the City of Boston to rename a street, Cocoanut Grove Lane, and last Nov., we hosted the 75th Anniversary of the Cocoanut Grove Fire. You can see events on youtube. We would like to speak with you about our next project, which is a memorial at Statler Park, which is a short walk from where the CG nightclub was located. Can you please contact me at,
    Thank you
    Mike Hanlon

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Great blog here! Also your site loads up very fast! What host are you using?
    Can I get your affiliate link to your host? I
    wish my web site loaded up as fast as yours lol


  7. Thank you for youe blog. I’m unsure if you check this now as the original post is old, but I do geneaology and in my research I find myself going back to the Cocoanut Grove Fire as my great grandfather’s half sister was Jeanette Lanzoni who your mother saved. She unfortunately passed away in 1958 due to a very tragic train accident, but as a lover of history in general I found myself in a rabbit hole that wasn’t very large trying to learn about Goody Goodelle. I’m unsure if I will get an update if you respond as I’ve never commented on a blog before but wanted to at least thank you for this story. I’ve searched with little avail but am very intriqued to hear any of the music of your mother. From the shared photos I can see she was quite lovely. Hope to find out more of Goody Goodelle in the future. 🙂
    -Michelle DeLeonardis


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