Valatius inspired me to write this diary with his/her excellent post entitled, When the Socialists and Anarchists Came to Town in 1912. There is a reference in his piece to the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire in New York City on Saturday afternoon, March 25, 1911 in which 146 employees died and 71 were injured.
The real purpose of free trade agreements is to escape regulatory supervision, increase profits by reducing costs, and once and for all destroy labor unions by relocating businesses in foreign countries where they can exploit labor and natural resources with impunity. The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire of 1911 is an example of what happens when there is no regulatory oversight, labor unions, or consequences to prevent greed (AKA: the invisible hand of the marketplace) from raping, pillaging, looting, and destroying everything it touches.
The factory was located on the 8th, 9th, and 10th floors of the Asch Building. Max Blanck and Isaac Harris owned the business, which produced women’s blouses, or shirtwaists as they were called in those days. They employed approximately 500 women, mostly young immigrant women who worked 9-hour shifts weekdays and a 7-hour shift on Saturdays. According to the Fire Marshal, the fire was caused by a smoldering cigarette butt in a clothing-scrap bin located beneath a table on the 8th floor. Unfortunately for the victims of the fire, the exits to interior stairwells and exterior fire-escapes were locked shut because the managers did not want any employees taking breaks or leaving early. In other words, the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory was a sweatshop. A few people were rescued by elevator operators, but the elevators ceased to function after only three trips to the 9th floor when the elevator rails buckled from the heat. Although firemen quickly arrived at the scene, they were unable to reach the women because their ladders only extended to the 6th floor. Warning: This is graphic and may be disturbing to some.
William G. Shepherd, a UPI reporter who witnessed the fire phoned in details while watching the tragedy unfold. At the other end of the telephone, young Roy Howard telegraphed Shepherd’s story to the nation’s newspapers. Shepherd’s report was first published in the Milwaukee Journal, on March 27, 1911. Shepherd said,
“I was walking through Washington Square when a puff of smoke issuing from the factory building caught my eye. I reached the building before the alarm was turned in. I saw every feature of the tragedy visible from outside the building. I learned a new sound–a more horrible sound than description can picture. It was the thud of a speeding, living body on a stone sidewalk.
Thud—dead, thud—dead, thud—dead, thud—dead. Sixty-two thud—deads. I call them that, because the sound and the thought of death came to me each time, at the same instant. There was plenty of chance to watch them as they came down. The height was eighty feet.
The first ten thud—deads shocked me. I looked up—saw that there were scores of girls at the windows. The flames from the floor below were beating in their faces. Somehow I knew that they, too, must come down, and something within me—something that I didn’t know was there—steeled me.
I even watched one girl falling. Waving her arms, trying to keep her body upright until the very instant she struck the sidewalk, she was trying to balance herself. Then came the thud–then a silent, unmoving pile of clothing and twisted, broken limbs.
As I reached the scene of the fire, a cloud of smoke hung over the building. . . . I looked up to the seventh floor. There was a living picture in each window—four screaming heads of girls waving their arms.
“Call the firemen,” they screamed—scores of them. “Get a ladder,” cried others. They were all as alive and whole and sound as were we who stood on the sidewalk. I couldn’t help thinking of that. We cried to them not to jump. We heard the siren of a fire engine in the distance. The other sirens sounded from several directions.
“Here they come,” we yelled. “Don’t jump; stay there.”
One girl climbed onto the window sash. Those behind her tried to hold her back. Then she dropped into space. I didn’t notice whether those above watched her drop because I had turned away. Then came that first thud. I looked up, another girl was climbing onto the window sill; others were crowding behind her. She dropped. I watched her fall, and again the dreadful sound. Two windows away two girls were climbing onto the sill; they were fighting each other and crowding for air. Behind them I saw many screaming heads. They fell almost together, but I heard two distinct thuds. Then the flames burst out through the windows on the floor below them, and curled up into their faces.
The firemen began to raise a ladder. Others took out a life net and, while they were rushing to the sidewalk with it, two more girls shot down. The firemen held it under them; the bodies broke it; the grotesque simile of a dog jumping through a hoop struck me. Before they could move the net another girl’s body flashed through it. The thuds were just as loud, it seemed, as if there had been no net there. It seemed to me that the thuds were so loud that they might have been heard all over the city.
I had counted ten. Then my dulled senses began to work automatically. I noticed things that it had not occurred to me before to notice. Little details that the first shock had blinded me to. I looked up to see whether those above watched those who fell. I noticed that they did; they watched them every inch of the way down and probably heard the roaring thuds that we heard.
As I looked up I saw a love affair in the midst of all the horror. A young man helped a girl to the window sill. Then he held her out, deliberately away from the building and let her drop. He seemed cool and calculating. He held out a second girl the same way and let her drop. Then he held out a third girl who did not resist. I noticed that. They were as unresisting as if he were helping them onto a streetcar instead of into eternity. Undoubtedly he saw that a terrible death awaited them in the flames, and his was only a terrible chivalry.
Then came the love amid the flames. He brought another girl to the window. Those of us who were looking saw her put her arms about him and kiss him. Then he held her out into space and dropped her. But quick as a flash he was on the window sill himself. His coat fluttered upward—the air filled his trouser legs. I could see that he wore tan shoes and hose. His hat remained on his head.
Thud—dead, thud—dead—together they went into eternity. I saw his face before they covered it. You could see in it that he was a real man. He had done his best.
We found out later that, in the room in which he stood, many girls were being burned to death by the flames and were screaming in an inferno of flame and heat. He chose the easiest way and was brave enough to even help the girl he loved to a quicker death, after she had given him a goodbye kiss. He leaped with an energy as if to arrive first in that mysterious land of eternity, but her thud—dead came first.
The firemen raised the longest ladder. It reached only to the sixth floor. I saw the last girl jump at it and miss it. And then the faces disappeared from the window. But now the crowd was enormous, though all this had occurred in less than seven minutes, the start of the fire and the thuds and deaths.
I heard screams around the corner and hurried there. What I had seen before was not so terrible as what had followed. Up in the [ninth] floor girls were burning to death before our very eyes. They were jammed in the windows. No one was lucky enough to be able to jump, it seemed. But, one by one, the jams broke. Down came the bodies in a shower, burning, smoking—flaming bodies, with disheveled hair trailing upward. They had fought each other to die by jumping instead of by fire.
The whole, sound, unharmed girls who had jumped on the other side of the building had tried to fall feet down. But these fire torches, suffering ones, fell inertly, only intent that death should come to them on the sidewalk instead of in the furnace behind them.
On the sidewalk lay heaps of broken bodies. A policeman later went about with tags, which he fastened with wires to the wrists of the dead girls, numbering each with a lead pencil, and I saw him fasten tag no. 54 to the wrist of a girl who wore an engagement ring. A fireman who came downstairs from the building told me that there were at least fifty bodies in the big room on the seventh floor. Another fireman told me that more girls had jumped down an air shaft in the rear of the building. I went back there, into the narrow court, and saw a heap of dead girls. . . .
The floods of water from the firemen’s hose that ran into the gutter were actually stained red with blood. I looked upon the heap of dead bodies and I remembered these girls were the shirtwaist makers. I remembered their great strike of last year in which these same girls had demanded more sanitary conditions and more safety precautions in the shops. These dead bodies were the answer.”
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These horrific consequences of unchecked capitalism stem from the desire to increase profits by lowering the costs of production and eliminating competition. That is to say, they are caused by greed. As a result of tragic events like the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire in 1911, we finally figured out as a society that greed promotes exploitation rather than market efficiency. Witness the institution of slavery and the infamous robber barons of the late 19th century who accumulated vast wealth at the expense of everyone else. Nevertheless, bad ideas – especially the ones that enrich the few at the expense of the many – like zombies, refuse to die. Unfettered capitalism is toxic, of course, and the free market enthusiasts fell out of favor during the first half on the 20th century, but now they are back and we have targets on our backs.