Wednesday, March 25, 2026

Witnessing Piles of Dead Women on a New York Street

 

Police and bystanders watch helplessly as more victims jump to their deaths to escape the flames of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory on the upper floors of the Asch Building.

It was a sunny but raw day in New York City, a late Saturday afternoon and the streets near Washington Square in the immigrant Greenwich Village neighborhood were teaming with traffic. Around 4:45, as the many garment industry sweatshops were preparing for their “early” Saturday closing, pedestrians began to notice smoke billowing from the upper floors of the Asch Building, at 29 Washington Place. Crowds gathered to watch as horse drawn fire engines and ladder trucks pounded to the scene. Soon witnesses watched in horror as one after another young women leapt from the burning building to sure death on the pavement below—the Fire Departments ladders were too short to reach the windows from which they jumped. It was March 25, 1911. The top three floors of the building, housing the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory had turned into a roaring inferno. 

The Fire Department responded quickly but did not have ladders tall enough to reach the top three floors which were on fire and fire fighters could not get up stairways choked with the bodies of those trying to escape.  They could only use their most powerful pumpers to spay water from the outside.

About 500 workers were getting ready to leave when the fire started smoldering in the scrap bin under a cutting table, probably ignited by a carelessly discarded cigarette or cigar. When it was over 146 of them, mostly young Italian and Jewish women, perished. Many were piled against locked exit doors and died of asphyxiation. Sixty-two victims leaped to their death on the sidewalk or were killed when the sole fire escape collapsed. Others jumped down elevator shafts after the elevators, which managed to rescue several, stopped working when the fire’s heat twisted the rails on which they ran. At least 71 others were reported injured, although many more were probably tended at home, unable to afford medical care. 

It was not the first fire in such a factory. In fact, authorities had reported an epidemic of fires at shirtwaist factories. This was one, however, was made worse because of overcrowding on the shop floors, failure to clear flammable material—scrap bins had not been emptied in two months—and because stairways and exits were either blocked by bales of material or padlocked to prevent employee pilferage. 

The factory occupied floors 8, 9, and 10 of the building, all beyond the reach of ladders which could only reach the sixth floor at full extension. There was no alarm system and on the most crowded production floor, the 9th, the first warning was literally when flames erupted. By that time most office personnel, including the owners and their visiting children had already been able to evacuate from the higher floor to the safety of the roof. 

There had, of course, been awful industrial accidents and fires before. Mine collapses were commonplace. Many were killed in boiler explosions on steamships and riverboats, others died in railroad accidents. Fires had devastated lint-filled textile plants. But never had such a calamity played out so publicly on the streets of the nation’s premier city with the press—including photographers—on hand to record the horror. The fact that most of the victims were young women, girls in their teens mostly, added to the impact. Grimy men were expected to be expendable, girls were not. 

 The sewing floor of a typical shirtwaist factory and the young women who worked there.

Lurid headlines and gruesome photos spread across the country. Both the city and state governments launched investigations, which would lead eventually to the establishment of the nation’s strongest industrial workplace safety and labor laws in New York state. It spurred the growth of the International Ladies Garment Workers’ Union (ILGWU) and other needle trade unions which made safety a key issue.   Many years later the Federal government added its weight to worker safety with the establishment of the Occupational Health and Safety Administration (OSHA) under the Department of Labor

The labor movement commemorates the anniversary, but the hard-fought gains paid for by those dead shop girls are under attack from coast-to-coast. Under the guise of cost cutting, deregulation, and as a frank assault on the working class on behalf of an oligarchy, Trump and Musks DOGE dudes  attempted to slash jobs at the agency and across the Department of Labor and OSHA itself is on the chopping block while blocking in every possible way the rights of workers to defend themselves through unions or by suing for damages in the courts. The old battles have to be refought. Hopefully it will not take another tragedy of epic proportion to re-prick the public conscience. 

Protests like this large parade featuring a contingent of Jewish women workers from the United Hebrew Trades demanded enactment of factory safety laws and organized shops into powerful unions.

In 2012, after years of painstaking research, the last 10 victims of the fire were finally identified. Today the Asch Building, now known as the Brown Building, still stands. It is a designated landmark, as much, we are told, for its architectural significance as the site of a tragedy.

Tuesday, March 24, 2026

Five Years Ago New Mass Murders Riped Scab from Old Wounds—Murfin Verse


 An all-too familiar sight--people comfort each other outside of a Boulder, Colorado supermarket where 10 died on Monday. 

Note--There were a spate of shootings at schools, stores, and other public places in the past week or so, all killings differentiated from "ordinary urban street crime,"  but death tolls were fewer than all of the fingers of your hand.  That just enough to get a minute on network news with some shaky cell phone video and after-the-fact crime scene shots, a 15 second sound bite from a local police chief or Sheriff.  Then--poof--the incidents sink silently from awareness.  So many other critical issues now demand our immediate attention that sane gun policy is practically off the table.     Until, that is, the next mass murder with sufficient numbers.  Five years ago in 2021, just after a spate of killings, I posted this.

Pundits are already finding the silver lining in the Coronavirus year—the lock down and school closings gave us a respite from the kind of mass gun murders that had become numbingly routine in the previous decade.  Of course that didn’t take into account the rise in urban street crime shoot ‘em ups that have drenched many of our cities in Black and Brown blood.  That is something somehow entirely different even to many White and Anglo anti-gun violence crusaders.  Be that as it may, the pause in those other mass shootings has abruptly ended as vaccinations have spread, infections, and deaths gone down and states and municipalities have rushed to open up and return to something that seems normal.  Part of normal includes what is spit out of the barrels of assault weapons.

Easy to obtain from suburban gun shops, private sales, and out-of-state purchases, automatic weapons and combat ammo seized by Chicago police in 2019 fuel the steep rise in deadly street crime in the city.

In one week we have seen the Georgia attacks on women, Asians, and massage parlors that left eight dead and the Boulder, Colorado supermarket attack that has claimed ten.  In the first case the assailant was a young white man who was “having a bad day” and targeted those who apparently tempted his sexual purity.  Locaand even Federal authorities seem to have a hard time charging the shooter with a hate crime although victim communities—Asians and women—clearly understand it to be. 

In Colorado the shooter was an apparently Muslim man.  One suspects that authorities will have less trouble labeling him a hate crime offender and plainly calling the incident what it clearly is—an act of terrorism.

In both cases the offenders—we won’t bother with the nicety of calling them “alleged”—were captured alive unlike many un-armed Blacks in routine traffic stops or mental health crisis.  And in both cases there are very loose restrictions on gun ownership and in the case of Colorado allows open-carry.  In fact, just days earlier a state court overturned an assault weapon ban that was enacted in the wake of other Centennial State atrocities

In the aftermath of both shooting, the same old pattern of responses have rolled out—public outrage and demands for immediate action, moves by Democrats including President Joe Biden and members of the House and Senate vowing to enact legislation this time, and the gun lobby and their bought-and-paid-for Congressional mouth pieces telling us how they mourn the victims but that the rest of us have to calm down and not act in haste.  The gun nuts are confident that once again outrage will fade after a few weeks and we can all return to the normal of deadly weapons for all who want them in the name, of course, of freedom.

I'm in my 70s now but this sign that I carried in a march in Woodstock after the Parkland mass murder is sadly relevant again. As a nation we never seem to learn...I'm carrying it again in my heart today for Boulder.

Over the years I have written poetry often, far too often, after explosions of gun violence, mass murder, and domestic terrorism in this country.  It feels like there is hardly anything else to say—no new insights, outrage, or grief.  The parade of atrocities seems never ending, as does our by-now ritualized and inadequate responses.  However familiar they become, we cannot allow ourselves to be numbed by them.  We cannot lay aside our outrage and our anger not only against the individual perpetrators, but those who encourage, abet, and arm them. We must resist the culture that fosters violence and hate and take positive action—far more than ever before—to stop it.

Almost two years ago [2019] after yet another outrage—the El Paso Walmart attack—I trotted out just some—not all—of the verse I composed after previous events.  Gun violence has all too frequently been my poetic topic over the years.  You will be forgiven if you can’t even remember some of the incidents—there have been far too many of them and the blur over time.

The victims at Umpqua Community College--now barely a footnote.

Ritual Bloodletting, Breast Beating, and Blaming

October 1, 2015

In the Wake of Umpqua Community College Killings

 

Grief stricken families, victims, and survivors

            are the bullies

            the launchers of vast, dark conspiracies

            and the gun worshipers and fantasy world heroes

            the mewling, pitiful victims.

 

Step right over the victims.

            Don’t slip on the blood.

            Remember what is Holy and Sacred.

 

…Or we will kill you.

 

—Patrick Murfin


Not John Brown.

He Who Shall Not Be Named Here

November 27, 2015

After Colorado Springs

 

No!  He is not Old John Brown

            come round again

            no matter the wild eyes

            and wilder beard.

 

The unborn will not rise up

            and arm themselves,

            to wreck vengeance on

            the women who carry them

            and anyone who ever

            had a kind word or thought

            for them.

 

God is not on his side

            just as He/She/It

            is not on the side of

            righteous trigger-happy cops

            tempted by the backs

            of Black young people.

 

Just as Allah is not on the side

            of fanatics in Syria, Iraq, and Paris.

 

He will never savor martyrdom,

            ride to his own hanging

            on his casket,

            only the long, lonely oblivion

            of maximum prison hole.

 

Despite his yearnings

            a nation will not march to war

            with his name ringing in song

            on hundred thousand lips.

 

With luck, rivers of blood

            and mountains of corpses,

            families turned against families,

            the land laid waste,

            will not be his legacy.

 

With luck.

 

—Patrick Murfin

 

Bodies amid the refuse of the stampede to get out of the line of fire in Las Vegas.


What Doesn’t Stay In Vegas

October 3, 2017

 

What happens in Vegas doesn’t stay there.

 

It oozes under the front door

of that little house in Tennessee

leaving a nasty stain in the carpet

that will last generations.

 

It drips from the empty desk

            in the high school office

            where the phone rings unattended

            next to a famed family photo

            and a jar of M & Ms.

 

It is tangled in the nets

            of that Alaska trawler

            spilling on the deck

            and splattering those rubber boots.

 

It has to be wiped from the table

            of that Disneyland café

            by some other harried waitress

            before it spoils some child’s

            special day

            or gets on Snow White’s costume.

 

It pools by the council’s table

            in a San Diego courtroom

            the empty chair

            unable to represent

            the mother of three.

 

It cannot be washed from

            the filthy hands

            of every politico

            who took gun pushers’ cash

            and kissed the ass of every

            fetishist wanking himself off

            to violence porn and hero fantasies.

 

—Patrick Murfin



                                    An actual Valentine Day target sold at gun stores,  Target audience?  Incels and misogynists? 

 

Three Holes in the Valentine Heart

Chicago 1929

 

Toddlin’ Town rat-a-tat-tat,

            just Jazz Age juice and justice,

            Tommy guns talkin’

            fedoras flying,

            mugs massacred,

            wanna-be eye doc,

            grease monkey

            garage gore gone.

 

“Only Capone kills like that.”

 

Cool beans!

            Gangsters!

 

Northern Illinois University 2008

 

Gunman on campus!

            Good-guy grad student

            gone goofy

            lecture hall lesson

            in shot gun blasts

            and Glock gotchas.

 

Campus cops closing in,

            one last round

            under the chin,

            oblivion.

 

Twenty-three down,

            sixteen shot,

            five dead and,

            oh yeah, the perp.

 

Is that all?

            Piker!  Ain’t no Virginia Tech!

            hardly worth the weeping and wailing

            all those vigils and candlelight!

 

And the NRA says all those pussy students

            who didn’t pack their own heat

            should have OK corralled it.

 

Nothing to see here,

            move along.

 

Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School 2018

 

Crazy Cruz kid had issues,

            gas mask, smoke grenades,

            and a handy AK-47

            extra magazines just in case.

 

Shoot, pull fire alarm.

            spray death, kick in doors,

            spray death, repeat.

            Efficient.

 

Thoughts and prayers

            out the wazoo today.

            Blame tomorrow.

            Not me, not us.

            Unpreventable.

 

Look….a squirrel

            or Stormy Danniels’ cleavage,

            any damn thing…

 

—Patrick Murfin