I remember the moment my brother Louis found me asleep on my mattress as being one of the most joyful of my entire life. He enfolded me in his strong arms and wept into my shoulder, careful not to jar my burned arms. He was followed closely behind by my parents who had a similar reaction to seeing me alive. I remember my father smelling of sweet hay from the livery and my mother rocking back and forth sobbing into my neck, whispering how much she loved me into my ear.
The next few days I stayed at home and rested. I remember my father bringing home the paper and reading it to us.
It told of everything, how the firemen suspected the cause of the fire being from a carelessly discarded cigarette tossed into a scrap bin, how the fire escapes had collapsed, how the nets had failed to save the fifty to sixty people who had been forced to jump or be burned alive. It put the death rate at 137 and the number was still growing. The morgues had apparently run out of room to store the deceased for the families to come and identify, and so they were being lined up on a pier in hastily thrown together coffins. I remember feeling sick to my stomach over Abraham of whom I had heard no news.
I finally gave up hope on finding him alive and took to wandering through the morgues in hopes of finding him. I never did.
But several days later when the papers printed their first tentative list of the deceased's names I remember very clearly seeing his name near the bottom with the R's. The news struck me as if I had walked headlong into a brick wall. I could not believe it though there it was right in front of me.
I cried for days, what young woman wouldn't? He was my first love. No one could figure what was wrong with me and I would tell them nothing.
The one thing I did do was write a letter to Abraham's parents. In that letter I told them the truth about me and their son. How much he loved me and what a caring young man he was. I left it unsigned and merely ended it with an expression of my heartfelt condolences over their loss. I was too much of a coward to face them.
It was a decision that I now regret years later but it is much too late to change anything. I never forgot about Abraham all these years, he still holds a special place in my heart.
The Triangle Shirtwaist Fire changed me forever, even now years later I have been unable to shake the terrifying nightmares that plague my every sleeping moment. It was a horrifying tragedy and an unnecessary one. I pray that I may never see another like it in my lifetime.
-Cecelia Walker
Note: Cecelia Walker and Abraham Robinowitz were actual people. They both worked at the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory although their relationship is entirely fictional. Cecelia Walker was truly twenty years old when the fire occurred and she actually did witness a girl standing beside her jump out of a window. She really did escape down an elevator shaft and wake up in St. Vincent's Hospital with severe burns. Little is known about Abraham except that he jumped to his death from the eighth floor after the flames grew too intense and was crushed.
As for the rest of the story unfortunately, it is completely true.
I don't know if this is allowed but these photos I found while reseaching for this story really helped to better illustrate and depict how the tragedies of that day really happened. ****They are not pleasant to look to look at so please view at your own discretion.****
Spoiler! :
A picture of the factory after the fire and the windows that so many were sadly forced to use as their only escape.
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Victims of the tragedy.
Spoiler! :
Victims of the tragedy.
Overall, I think you did a fantastic job with this story. This is a scary and disturbing event in our history, and I think you portrayed it well. Just work on those little things I mentioned throughout. I had a pleasure reading and reviewing this! Drop me a note if you have any questions.
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