The pyrotechnic device that ignited the deadly blaze at The Station
nightclub was placed on the stage just minutes before the headline band,
Great White, made its entrance, according to a member of one of the
warm-up acts last Thursday night.
"I saw him jump down on his knees and hurry and get this stuff ready,"
Al Prudhomme, drummer for the local hard-rock band Fathead, said
yesterday, adding that he did not recognize the man doing the work.
Great White's lead singer, Jack Russell, acknowledged on the night of
the fire that the band had used the pyrotechnics. But, until Prudhomme
spoke up, no one had said publicly when the device was placed on the
stage.
Mario Giamei Jr., a Sutton, Mass., mortgage broker who worked
occasionally at The Station as a bouncer, said yesterday that he did not
see who set up the fireworks, but that he heard Great White's tour
manager, Dan Biechele, express concern moments after the walls of the
club burst into flames.
"Their guy, Dan, looked at me and said, 'I think I'm in big trouble. I
[expletive] this one up,' " said Giamei.
Giamei was not working for the club Thursday night -- he was there as a
fan.
Thomas G. Briody, a lawyer for Biechele, said, "I would urge the public
to examine with great care the accuracy of any statement attributed to
people in the frenzied moments after the fire started."
Those moments were captured in pictures recently posted on a French
photographic Web site,
www.gamma-presse.com. The photographer, Dan Davidson, could not be
reached yesterday. A spokesman for Gamma said an undisclosed party had
bought the rights to the pictures, which cannot be published by other
outlets until Saturday.
THE MUSIC started last Thursday night at 8:30, when Fathead ran onto the
stage through machine-generated fog. Next up was Trip, which played from
9:45 to 10:30.
When The Station's house lights came up, there was a flurry of activity
on the stage, as the warm-up act cleared off and Great White set up for
its 11 o'clock start.
Prudhomme's wife, Charlene, had arrived from her hairdressing job
nearby, and the couple watched as the stage changed over.
Al Prudhomme did not recognize Great White's road crew. One man, who
seemed to be in charge, had long stringy blond hair, and sunglasses on
top of his head, said Prudhomme.
They brought out a cloth backdrop with Great White's logo. They plugged
in the fog machine. They gave it a test.
Then, the Prudhommes noticed Great White's pyrotechnics. Prudhomme saw
at least two hollow tubes, about 8 to 10 inches long, and 2 inches wide.
Each had a clear bluish cable coming from it.
For some reason, Charlene noticed the cords. Watching her husband play
in clubs for almost 17 years, she had seen other bands use pyrotechnics.
But the cords attached to Great White's fireworks were beefier than
those she had seen before. "It seemed like a lot more of a professional
set of equipment than what I had seen," she said. "I thought they must
have hired someone who knows what they are doing."
Al Prudhomme also noticed the pyrotechnics, but said he did not think
anything of them; he thought they were part of a small stunt. "A lot of
bands use . . . 'concussion bombs.' They make a real loud banging noise
and just a flash of light."
The pyrotechnics man seemed in a hurry to finish his work. Prudhomme
said he did not see the club's owner around as Great White set up the
fireworks.
Mario Giamei was watching from the side as Great White's singer, Jack
Russell, got ready to take the stage. It seemed to Giamei the heavy
metal musician was waiting for something.
Then the music began, the pyrotechnics went off and Russell jumped out
on stage.
Prudhomme was surprised. "This was just nonstop sparkler," he said. "I'm
saying, my God, these sparks are going all over their instruments. Must
be nice to get stuff for free, and not care about burn marks."
Prudhomme had expected just a short burst. "I was thinking, look how
long this is going on. Usually, one, two, three, and then it's out. But
this was going off for a good solid, maybe 10 seconds."
Giamei, standing near Prudhomme, craned his neck to see around a set of
tall speakers. He said he noticed fire immediately.
THE GAMMA-PRESSE photos show flames beginning to spread on the wall
behind the stage, with some people racing around and others standing
still.
The Providence Journal yesterday showed the photos to Giamei and Paul
Vanner, The Station's sound manager and stage coordinator. Prudhomme
declined to look at the pictures.
Giamei and Vanner said the people in the picture include Giamei, with
his back to the camera as he watches the activity on the stage;
Biechele, who appears to be hurrying off the stage as flames grow in the
background, and a club worker named Scott Vieira, whose fate in the fire
could not be immediately determined yesterday.
The foreground of three of the pictures shows a cardboard box with a
label similar to a warning for explosives. Nothing in the pictures
confirms that the box contains explosives as indicated on the label.
In two of the pictures, Giamei is standing near the box, with his back
turned. In a third, Vieira, with a cigarette dangling from his lips,
appears to be walking right up to the box.
Giamei said yesterday that the police showed him the same photographs
and questioned him about the box. He said he did not notice it the night
of the fire.
Vanner said he had never seen the box until he saw the photographs
yesterday. He said he is sure he would have noticed the box earlier in
the evening if it had been there then because he had talked to Great
White about some equipment cases it had left nearby, in the pathway to
the stage door.
"I said, 'Dude, you've got to move this stuff. That's a fire exit.' If I
had seen the box . . . . " His voiced trailed off into silence.
PRUDHOMME SAID he saw someone with Great White try to douse the fire
with a bottle of Poland Spring water.
Giamei had thoughts of trying to smother the flames with his jacket, but
realized the fire was spreading too quickly. He heard one of the club's
bouncers say, "Get a fire extinguisher." He heard Biechele curse.
Prudhomme sensed danger right away. "It was just instinct, I knew
something wasn't right." He knew his wife and the rest of Fathead were
near the front door. When he looked, all he could see was a slow-moving
wall of people headed that way. He and several others kicked open the
stage door, then ran outside and around to the front of the club.
Giamei ran toward the front door first, but hit the same wall of people.
He saw members of Great White leaving through the stage door and headed
that way. The club's fire alarm was blaring. "You could feel the heat
coming down on you, I just knew it wouldn't be good."
Giamei saw Biechele frozen in the doorway. He shoved him out, then
followed. Giamei circled to the front of the building. "By that time,
smoke was pouring out of it."
He went to a side door, where he saw the club's manager, Kevin Beese,
who was trying to help people out of the inferno. "He tried to run back
in but he couldn't; he got knocked back with smoke," said Giamei.
Biechele had a flashlight, which he handed to Beese, according to
Giamei. Beese and Giamei shined the light into the side door and yelled
to those inside.
Meanwhile, Prudhomme dashed up the concrete steps to the double doors at
the front of the club. Patrons were already jammed up, trying to get
out. He stood at the door, grabbing arms, pulling people out. The fifth
or sixth arm he grabbed was his wife, Charlene's. He pulled her over to
the ground, told her to stay there, then he ran back to the door to grab
more people.
Tom Conte, Fathead's singer, made it out with his girlfriend, but guitar
player Steven Mancini, his wife, Andrea Mancini, and bass player Keith
Mancini never made it out.
PRUDHOMME does not know who is at fault. "Part of me doesn't even blame
the band. It's the pyrotechnician. It's like lighting a candle under a
curtain. So many deaths for such a stupid, stupid thing."
At some point in the chaos, Giamei asked club manager Beese whether he
knew Great White planned to use pyrotechnics. "He said 'Nah,' I believe
him. It was the heat of the moment, and there was no time for anybody to
think, 'How am I going to cover my tracks?' "
Giamei now knows he lost at least five friends in the fire -- and
probably more acquaintances.
He wonders whether he could have made a difference had he yelled to
people trying to get out the front door to come to the other exit. But,
he said, "the whole club just went up so fast."
Vanner already is hoping to land another job running the sound system in
a nightclub. But other things will come first:
"My future plans are way too many funerals."
With reports from W. Zachary Malinowski
