The Brooklyn Theatre had opened on October 2, 1871, near the corner of Washington and Johnson Streets, occupying an L-shaped lot that wrapped around the neighboring Dieter Hotel. It seated 1,450 across three levels: the parquet and parquet circle on the ground floor held 600, the second-floor dress circle accommodated 550, and a third-floor gallery -- the family circle, where the cheapest seats were -- seated 450. Architect Thomas R. Jackson had designed the exits to discharge a full house in under five minutes, but the family circle had only a single stairway to the street. Three sets of side doors opened onto Flood's Alley, a narrow passage along the building's east side, but these were routinely locked to prevent gate-crashing. The entire production was lit by gaslight, with border lamps in wire cages positioned along the proscenium arch, intended to keep the painted canvas scenery at least a foot from the open flames.

About a thousand people were in the house that evening. Behind the drop curtain, stage manager J. W. Thorpe spotted a small flame on the left side of the stage -- a piece of canvas that had apparently slipped past a border lamp guard and ignited. He estimated it was no larger than his hand. The fire hose was blocked by scenery. Carpenters tried beating the fire with stage poles, but when one of them hastily pulled a burning drop upward, the rapid motion through air caused it to burst into full flame. The fire spread through the dry wooden rigging loft with terrifying speed. The actors continued performing even as Thorpe's crew fought the blaze behind them. Mary Ann Farren made her entrance, delivered her first lines, then whispered to her fellow actors: "The fire is steadily gaining." Smoldering debris began falling onto the stage. When J. B. Studley addressed the audience directly -- "If I have the presence of mind to stand here between you and the fire, which is right behind me, you ought to have the presence of mind to go out quietly" -- it was already too late for calm.

Panic erupted. Thomas Rocheford, a quick-thinking patron, unlocked the Flood's Alley doors, giving ground-floor patrons an escape route. Those in the parquet evacuated in under three minutes -- they had multiple exits and no stairs to negotiate. The dress circle emptied more slowly, with police officers and firemen physically untangling the crush on the main stairway, using billy clubs on anyone who tried to rush. But upstairs in the family circle, around 400 people faced a single narrow stairway that was already jammed. Charles Vine, watching from the gallery, estimated that less than four minutes passed from the first visible flames to the arrival of thick, suffocating smoke. Officer G. A. Wessman, working below, described it as "a kind of dark blue" with "a most peculiar smell; no human being could live in it for two minutes." Vine jumped from the gallery to the balcony below, cutting himself badly. Fire Marshal Keady later concluded Vine was the last person to leave the family circle alive.

By midnight, the fire had peaked, drawing 5,000 spectators. It burned uncontrolled until 1:00 a.m., and the walls along Flood's Alley collapsed. When the morning papers went to press, none carried news of casualties -- the prevailing belief was that everyone had escaped. Shortly after 3:00 a.m., Chief Engineer Thomas Nevins of the Brooklyn Fire Department worked his way into the vestibule and found the body of a woman sitting upright against the south wall, her legs partially burned away. He kept the discovery confined to senior staff, fearing a stampede of people searching for loved ones in the fragile ruins. By Friday, December 8, Coroner Henry C. Simms reported 293 bodies recovered. His final report cited 283 fatalities. The memorial stone later erected at Green-Wood Cemetery would settle on 278 -- a number that has never been definitive, because the fire that consumed the theatre also consumed the means of identification.

The coroner's jury held theater managers Sheridan Shook and A. M. Palmer responsible for failing to train staff in fire prevention, permitting the stage to become cluttered with scenery, and neglecting emergency exits and firefighting equipment. The jury noted that most victims died of suffocation, likely in the minutes after Vine dropped from the gallery. One hundred and three unidentified victims were buried in a common grave at Green-Wood Cemetery, marked by an obelisk. More than two dozen identified victims were interred at the Cemetery of the Evergreens. Haverly's Theatre was built on the same site in 1879 but was torn down just 11 years later for new offices of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle. Mid-20th century urban renewal eventually erased Washington Street, Flood's Alley, and the theatre site entirely, replacing them with Cadman Plaza. Today the New York Supreme Court building stands nearest the spot where 278 people died watching a play about orphans, and nothing marks where the family circle once held its captive audience.