“[Isidore] Abramowitz was taking his coat and hat from a nearby peg when he noticed the fire in his scrap bin. Perhaps the cutter had been sneaking a smoke while his assistants prepared the table…Or maybe it was the cutter’s assistant. At any rate, the fire marshal would later conclude that someone tossed a match or cigarette butt into Abramowitz’s scrap bin before it was completely extinguished. Cotton is even more flammable than paper, explosively so. Those airy scraps of sheer fabric and tissue paper, loosely heaped and full of oxygen, amounted to a virtual firebomb. Just above the peg where Abramowitz kept his coat was a ledge with three red fire pails on it. The cutter grabbed one and dumped it on the little flame, but this did no good. The fire grew geometrically in the space of a few seconds…”
- David Von Drehle, Triangle: The Fire that Changed America
A tall building burns in New York City. Tendrils of flame snake from broken windows. Smoke pours into the sky. On the ground, a crowd forms, watching in helpless horror. The Fire Department arrives, desperate to help, but their ladders do not reach high enough.
And then, a figure appears at a window, looks around for a miracle, and jumps into the emptiness.
It is March 25, 1911.
By the time the fire is extinguished, 146 people – mostly female garment workers, most incredibly young – have died. Later, bodies will be placed into coffins on the sidewalk. Later still, news will filter out that the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory, where the blaze occurred, had locked exits to prevent workers from stealing time or property.
In Triangle, David Von Drehle provides a complete account of this compelling and tragic story, which – for a time – held the dubious honor of being New York’s worst workplace disaster.
***
This is a fire book, to be sure, but it is a lot more than that. Von Drehle has much bigger things on his mind, and the actual conflagration does not begin until over a hundred pages have gone by. Instead, the first several chapters are devoted to context, context, context.
For example, Von Drehle expends a lot of ink trying to retrieve the lives of the workers from the expanse of an uncaring history. These were mostly Jewish or Italian immigrants who had arrived in waves chasing the elusive “American Dream.” What they discovered were cramped tenements, terrible living conditions, and factory owners super-eager to exploit their labor. They did not leave much of a record behind. Despite this, Von Drehle does an admirable job of piecing together scraps of information to form a picture – necessarily incomplete – of women who crossed an ocean only to be incinerated next to their sewing machines, sometimes with only a garbled Ellis Island notation to mark their passing existence.
The setup also contains discussions about Tammany Hall and machine politics; the “Shirtwaist Kings” Max Blanck and Isaac Harris, who owned the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory; and the reformers and activists who opposed them. There is an entire chapter devoted to a strike for better working conditions.
Von Drehle’s long leadup to the fire is not simply padding, but inextricably linked to the fire itself. Specifically, the conditions in the factory virtually assured that a large number of workers would be forced to give their lives for shirtwaists. The status of the workers virtually assured that their bosses thought no one would care.
***
The fire itself likely started in a trash bin, and exploded from there, feasting on the cotton that lay everywhere. Von Drehle’s account is effective, which is to say, it is terrifying and gut-wrenching, an awful combination – which the world observed again on September 11 – of high heat and high elevations.
Suffice to say, the interior of the Shirtwaist Factory had been designed to make it hard for workers to get out in a hurry. There were partitions that could only be exited one-at-a-time, and locked doors, and a single exterior fire escape that – due to flimsy design – collapsed, killing two dozen people.
There were ways out, but the flames blocked some, and crowds blocked others. As in all disaster narratives, there was a remorseless clock running down, and in those seconds of superheated air and toxic smoke and encroaching flames, frightened men and women had to make split-second decisions with the highest stakes they’d ever face. One person goes left and dies, another goes right and lives.
***
Dramatically speaking, it is tough to follow-up such a devastating sequence. Von Drehle manages, though, by shifting to the subsequent trial of Blanck and Harris, who were charged with manslaughter. This section is infuriating, but engrossing, especially the portrayal of famed attorney Max Steuer.
The law did not help the survivors, but they tried to help themselves by organizing a union. As is often the case when people are forced to jump out of burning buildings – and end up crumpled on the sidewalk, to be photographed – there was a public outcry, and this also led to some good, including a commission to investigate factory conditions. To Von Drehle, this supports Triangle’s subtitle as “The Fire That Changed America.” Unfortunately, memories are short, and we forget the reasons for things, even as we dismantle them.
***
Unlike Von Drehle, I’m not much of a “look-on-the-bright-side-of-disasters” kind of guy. I think Triangle works better as a memorial than as an argument that the Shirtwaist Factory Fire was a world-historical event. To that end, I greatly appreciated the efforts he made to create a list of the victims, which is included as an appendix.
There is power in a name. It forces us to stop and reflect on the brevity of life on earth, on the void of time, and on the reality of a person that has disappeared. It asks us to recall that these men and women were here, briefly, and deserve – at the least – a moment’s thought.