It was not easy facing eviction, but as fate would have it, the owner of a tenement building called the Moonglow Hotel opened up rooms for the housing projects evictees. It was a run-down three-story structure with a basement. The … Continue reading
The thought of becoming a first time author was a very intimidating one, but I knew that I had a story to tell. This was not just a story; it was a historical event, which had a dynamic impact not only on the families involved, but also on the local community and the state of New York as a whole.
On November 16, 1957, I became one of seven persons who survived a hotel fire in Niagara Falls, New York that killed eighteen others – fifteen of whom were children. Seven of those children were my siblings, all six of my brothers and my five-month-old baby sister. One man lost his entire nine-member family (wife and eight children), and two other adults 
also perished. Sometimes it overwhelms me just to think about the loss. Although I remember very little about the fire (after all I was only four years old), those details that I do remember often come back to haunt my dreams.
For several years I have contemplated writing my story, but I kept making one excuse after another. My determination to start the project was cemented, though, in 2007 after I attended a commemoration ceremony in Niagara Falls, New York, which marked the fiftieth anniversary of the fire. One of the original first responders was there and his speech was a moving and emotional testimony to the horror of the tragic event of November 16, 1957.
My short life before the fire was certainly not idyllic – my father was an alcoholic, my large family depended on state government assistance, and we were evicted from the housing projects we lived in just weeks before Christmas in 1956. When the owner of the Moonglow Hotel opened rooms for the evictees, my father seized the opportunity. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
Getting back on our feet after the fire was no easy task since we had nothing but the clothes on our backs. The community banded together to give us aid, and even the governor of New York took a personal interest in our recovery effort. My father’s life changed about three years after the fire when he accepted Jesus Christ as his Savior and became a born-again Christian. As a result, my family became more economically stable, though we were by no means middle class.
My life centered around religion for several years and my own faith in God became very strong even though it was tested several times: when I lost my job and my apartment in 1977; when my oldest sister Lila died in 1986; when I was divorced in 1993; when my father died in 2002; when my older sister Lucille died in 2012 (while I was writing my memoir); and when I suffered two miscarriages several years apart.
My life had more stability after I joined the U.S. Marine Corps in 1978. I planned on serving for just one tour, but twenty years later, I retired as a First Sergeant. After just a few years, I found myself back on the same Marine Corps installation that I retired from, but this time in civil service. At the end of 2011, I garnered my second retirement and my second wind toward writing my memoir.
I currently live in Hubert, North Carolina with my husband, John and one very fat cat named Stinky. I enjoy doing volunteer work and helping others in need.
Annie Chivers 