Victims devoted to their families and their club
FALL RIVER -- Every afternoon, when Christine Costa came home from her job, her father would be waiting on the porch, then walk down to the bus, take her hand, and bring her inside. Her mother took her everywhere, shopping, to church, to New Bedford to visit family. Everyone in the neighborhood knew Christine, who was 31 and had Down syndrome. And they knew her family's devotion to her.
On Wednesday night, when a blaze broke out inside the Azorean social club where Christine and her mother had gone to pray, the two were suddenly separated in the smoke and flames. Eduarda Costa, after coming out to the street briefly, rushed back into the burning building three times, frantically trying to find her daughter. But she could not. Firefighters went in after the mother and pulled her out. Her face was badly burned.
``My Christine! My Christine!" Eduarda screamed, according to eyewitnesses.
Her daughter did not survive, and the fast-moving fire took three other lives. Emiliana Carvalho, 80, a mother of seven who loved cooking giant meals of goat, chicken, and favas, died in the arms of her niece, Isabel Raposa, 70. Both women -- who had immigrated to Fall River from the Azores -- were found dead in the kitchen, where witnesses said Carvalho had gone to fill a pan with water in a desperate attempt to put out the fire. The identity of the fourth victim could not be confirmed last night.
The blaze that destroyed the building that housed the St. John Holy Ghost Association, killing four people and injuring 15, has devastated the Azorean community in Fall River, which had made the club a central part of its cultural life. Hundreds came to the scene of ash and rubble yesterday, to salvage scraps of cloth from the club's maroon-and-gold sequined flag. Others simply wept or quietly embraced. They were not sure whether the community should go ahead with its plans for a feast for St. John tomorrow in the club parking lot.
``These people worked their whole lives to get a building and keep this tradition," said Charlie Freitas, 28, who was standing outside the charred shell on County Street yesterday. ``Now, it's gone."
Almost everyone in the tight knot of old streets around the club knew at least one of the victims and had a story to tell about them.
Emiliano Carvalho was one of 10 siblings and had celebrated her 80th birthday on Sunday at Venus de Milo restaurant in Somerset. It was a surprise party, and 100 people came: family from California, neighbors, and co-workers from the Fall River factory where she worked for 27 years sewing zippers on police jackets.
``She was unbelievably happy," said Freitas, who was at the birthday celebration. ``She said, `If I had known it was a big party, I would have gotten more dressed up.' "
``My son," Freitas added, ``calls her grandma. She used to baby-sit for him. She would take care of him. She was one of those ladies: `You hungry? You thirsty? You need anything?' "
When the club caught fire Wednesday, Carvalho's son, Tony, 50, had just walked outside for some fresh air. Then he noticed the flames. He ran back inside, pulled grates off the windows, and smashed the glass. But he could not save his mother. He said when she was found, she and Raposa had rosaries in their hands.
Yesterday, with his hand bandaged from smashing the glass, he recalled how his mother had taken pride in preparing meals for the feast honoring St. John and other lavish suppers. ``She would cook five pans at the same time," Tony Carvalho said. ``She was always cooking for everyone and trying to bring everyone together."
He added: ``At her age, she could run circles around my sisters. It's like she had batteries."
Isabel Raposa was 13 when she immigrated to the United States from the Azores. ``We loved everything about living here," said her brother, Joseph Pavao, 71.
Isabel and her husband, John Raposa, raised three sons and a daughter. She worked for years in a factory where she stitched raincoats, Pavao said, retiring a decade ago. She spent Wednesdays caring for her friend, Isabel Mello, 88, who uses a wheelchair. Raposa would come to Mello's house, bring her pastries, reheat her coffee, and light a candle. Then they would pray. ``She's an angel," said Mello's daughter, Marilyn Simons.
``Oh, I loved her so much," Mello said. ``I'm going to miss her."
Outside the ranch-style house in Westport where the Raposas lived, a few miles from the fire scene, neighbors recalled the couple tending to their perfectly trimmed lawn and garden, a showcase of purple pachysandra, with a decorative wooden windmill and trees surrounded by circles of mulch. The landscaping was a point of pride for the family, said neighbor Kerrie Raposo, 37.
``They're an unbelievable couple," Raposo said.
On Wednesday, when the fire erupted, John and Isabel Raposa were inside the club. John managed to climb to safety through one of the windows that was broken by Tony Carvalho. Then he tried to reach back inside and pull his wife out but she slipped out of his hands, said Freitas. ``He had her by the hand, but he had to let go of her," Freitas said.
Family members of Eduarda Costa, meanwhile, gathered at Rhode Island Hospital in Providence, where relatives said she was in intensive care after suffering serious burns. It was hard for them to imagine the future, without mother and daughter side by side. When Eduarda would go to the club to cook, Christine would come along, bring her coloring book, and try to interest someone to draw with her. Christine was remembered yesterday by her relatives as happy and gentle. She worked for six years at People Inc., a Fall River company that employs people with disabilities. She packed boxes and made yo-yos and candy. She wore a gold cross given to her by her mother.
``Her father and mother were always with her," said Manuel Machado, 70, Christine Costa's cousin. ``They love her so, so much."
Michael Levenson can be reached at mlevenson@globe.com. Maria Cramer of the Globe staff and Globe correspondent Yuxing Zheng contributed to this report. 