“What should I do?”
“Talk to the woman. Our security is a small price for the justice that may come. We must be willing to work for the change we want to see.”
The next day, Elsa recounted the incident to Rachel at Aisle 16. She was the third girl to come forward. Rachel assured her she would remain anonymous. Elsa doubted it; the head boss had been a witness.
Two weeks later, when the boss summoned her to the office, Elsa was sure she would get fired. At least she didn’t fear being alone with him.
“I always try to run a fair factory,” he began. His tone was gruff, but his attitude was strangely defensive. “I have no tolerance for shenanigans from my workers.”
Elsa tilted her head. Josephine’s lessons hadn’t exposed her to any Irish slang words.
“I hold this factory to a high moral standard,” he continued. “That I have employed your loom partner, a colored girl, for several years should be evidence of this factory being a fair and progressive place. We pay our girls just as much as our boys.”
Elsa found this statement insincere, since the only men working in the factory were foremen. No boys worked there since girls would do the work for less.
“For that reason, I want to apologize for my foreman’s behavior some time back. Ernest has been fired, and I assure you that his actions in no way reflect the Triangle Shirtwaist Company as a whole.”
“Thank you,” she said, relieved both that her job was safe and that she wouldn’t see the horrible foreman again.
Yet even through her mix of emotions, Elsa recognized the boss’s feigned morality. Whether or not the police had become involved, Rachel had stirred up enough of a scandal that firing the foreman had become the easiest course of action. Elsa assumed she was the only one of his victims that the boss personally knew of. He was only being kind to her now in an attempt to limit the damage.
“I can see that you are struggling this winter.” He paused, unsure what he wanted to say. “I cannot increase your pay, but let me know if there is something I can do to help your family.”
Elsa was stunned that he would ask such a generous question. If it was only in hopes she would stay quiet about the incident, she didn’t care.
“My mother needs a job,” she said quickly. “She has worked in a clothing factory before and will work hard.”
“Hmm. We only employ a few older women. They are more expensive, you know.”
Elsa was about to blurt out that her mother would work for a child’s wage, but held her tongue. If he was in a generous mood today, why not push her luck?
“Let me see what I can do,” he said.
Elsa went back to her loom. Hope fueled her labor for the rest of the day. Could her courage to come forward actually have saved their family?
As she was walking toward the door that night, the boss caught up to her.
“I can use your mother at the cutting table. She can start tomorrow. I’ll pay her a dollar a day.”
Chapter Six
The Shirtwaist Strike
How far we’ve come, thought Nina as she sipped from a cup of tea, of all things.
“This is the first time I have had a friend over for tea since . . . well, since Germany. Thank you, Rachel.”
“No, thank you,” Rachel said. “Our lives seldom give time for such things. But perhaps we can change that. Promise you will join me in the march on Sunday.”
“I will. But I cannot allow my girls to join. They have more to lose than I do.”
“I understand.”
Nina enunciated slowly, sometimes pausing between words and phrases. Her English was mostly correct, if not comfortable. She had been learning to speak it from Elsa.
In the two years since Nina had started working at the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory, she and Rachel had become as good of friends as their hard working conditions allowed. In Nina, Rachel found an ally in her passion to make life better for the women who worked in New York City’s factories. Elsa’s experience with the foreman had shaken Nina and made her determined to do something about it. Rachel subsequently drafted her into the burgeoning workers’ rights movement. Nina relished this chance to point her energy in a new direction.
In recent months, the movement had coalesced into an organized Women’s Trade Union League. This coming Sunday there would be a march from the Bowery to Broadway in support of the union.
“You have made this apartment quite the home,” Rachel said, looking at all the decorations and small improvements Nina had added over the months.
Nina glanced around, too, then down at her teacup, which symbolized the changes as much as anything. These last two years had been better for them. Money was still tight, but they had managed to buy some proper dishes, a table cloth, and window shades, as well as a third bed so Elsa and Sonja no longer had to share. But what Rachel was pointing out were the little things that had gradually been collected. Each item alone seemed small, but when added together, they made this humble flat a reflection of their lives. During the early days, this had been a home of suffering. Their shared struggles had bonded them together and transformed it into a home of love. Lately it had finally become a home of joy.
Nina knew Rachel Shapiro lived alone in an apartment on Allen Street. That apartment had seen her promise as a young mother with a hard-working husband. Then suddenly it was the home of a childless widow after her husband and baby succumbed to the same epidemic of influenza. That had been seven years ago. Nina felt a connection with Rachel because of their shared suffering. They had each lost a husband and a child. Yet Nina still had two living children to work for. Rachel’s apartment was now merely a place to lay her head. Her life and passions were away from her home.
“Where are your daughters tonight?” Rachel asked.
“Elsa is studying her reading with Beth’s mother. She speaks perfect English but thinks there is still more for her to learn. I did not understand this at first, but I support her now. She is trying to make something better of her life. Is that not the very thing we are working toward? Elsa works for the same thing, in her own way.”
Rachel nodded.
“I certainly would not speak English yet if not for Elsa.”
“And your older daughter?”
Nina smiled. “Sonja is being courted.”
“Indeed?”
“A young German man from the neighborhood has taken an interest in her. I am hoping there will be a wedding before the end of the year.”
Will you be sad to lose her?”
“I will miss her, yes, but it is necessary. Sonja needs to marry. Factory work has been hard on her. She is frail and tender. Our struggles have nearly broken her spirit. We have been here for three and a half years now. It has made me stronger, and made Elsa stronger. But Sonja cannot keep on with this life. This man she has met can give her a better home. She will soon be nineteen. It is a good age for a girl to marry. Christof is German and a Christian. It would be a good match.”
“I hope she finds happiness,” said Rachel.
Nina sensed that Rachel shared her own thought: marriage hadn’t given either of them happiness. Society held it up to women as an ideal—the goal and culmination of youth. It was the same here in America as it had been in Germany. For Rachel, marriage gave a few happy years followed by tragedy and loneliness. For Nina, the loneliness of having Tobias beside her gave way to the loneliness of having him gone without a trace.
It was this harsh reality that inspired Nina to fight for working women’s rights. It made her angry. Poor women should have opportunities other than husbands.
“I should go,” said Rachel. “It’s late. The way they are working us now, I need my sleep.”
“Yes. My daughters will be home soon. Sonja will surely have stories to tell.”
* * * * *
After church that Sunday, Nina made her daughters spend the day with their friends—Elsa with Josephine and Beth, and Sonja with Christof Steigenhöffer and his family. She joined Rachel a
nd the others from the Women’s Trade Union League at the Bowery.
Nina knew she was risking their recent security by involving herself in the women’s union movement. They had managed to save a little money but couldn’t afford for her to lose her job. She still had a responsibility to her daughters.
If Sonja really did marry Christof, she would feel bolder. Elsa could take care of herself; she had proven that. The best thing she could do for Elsa was to stay in this fight. If no one fought for women’s rights, what chance would Elsa have to actually use the knowledge she had worked so hard to acquire?
Nina marched through the city that day with several thousand women of the garment industry, carrying banners in English and Yiddish. Their demands for better wages, shorter hours, and an end to abuse from the bosses were met with enthusiasm by the crowds that lined the streets. But the protest occurred on a Sunday. When Nina and the other women got to the factory the next morning, the bosses were unmoved. What the women did on their day off was up to them. The fact that they were all back at work on Monday proved to the bosses that the women’s march to have been mere vanity.
Still, Nina felt elated after the march. Seldom had she had so much fun as when marching with all those women. Having only just begun this fight, she hadn’t expected immediate success.
Rachel, though, was despondent. She told Nina they had made no progress at all. After the thrill of the march wore off, Nina also realized they would have to do more—risk more—to make any real progress. The next time the League met—the Sunday after the march—a fiery young woman named Clara Lemlich proposed a women’s general strike. That would get the bosses’ attention.
Shortly after Nina got home from the meeting, Christof and Gerd Steigenhöffer came to call at the Schullers’ apartment. Christof formally requested permission to marry Sonja. Nina happily gave it. Gerd produced a bottle of beer he had brought in anticipation of Nina’s answer. The five Germans commenced a spontaneous celebration for the upcoming union of their families.
The atmosphere at the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory had grown tense. In the months since the women’s march, Clara Lemlich had been distributing fliers among the workers, calling for the general strike. Rachel advised Clara that she needed to start preparing the women to be out of work for a few weeks, maybe even months. Unless they were ready for this sacrifice, a strike would not succeed.
Less than half the women in the factory knew how to read, but the message of Clara’s fliers was clear. It was all the women talked about. The pamphlets made the rounds in all the clothing factories. Though their source remained anonymous, the bosses had gotten their hands on the incendiary material. They cracked down, forcing the women and children to work faster for increased production. They lengthened the hours to eliminate leisure time. Heavy locks were installed on the iron doors, and the women were forced to remain inside for ten or eleven hours at a time. Even a bathroom break had to be approved by a foreman.
As hard labor grew even harder, some of the women became resentful toward the Women’s Trade Union League and its leaders, Clara in particular. Without a belief that things could get better, they didn’t appreciate the firebrands who made things worse. When the bosses began to secretly inquire as to the source of the pamphlets, several women were more than willing to give them Clara’s name. Rachel was implicated as well. The foremen began watching both closely, waiting for an opportunity to incite an altercation.
Nina had continued to support the Women’s Trade Union League and attended all the meetings, but her focus was on Sonja’s upcoming nuptials. Less than a week before the wedding, she had no idea how quickly things were coming to a head.
After a day in which the women had been locked in the factory for twelve hours with barely enough food and water to sustain them, and with even the windows locked against escape attempts, Rachel convinced them to form a picket line to protest.
In the morning, the women gathered outside the factory but refused to go in. Clara worked at a nearby factory but had heard of the incident and joined the workers of the Triangle. She had written a new pamphlet for distribution. Among other things, it demanded nine-hour workdays, regulated breaks and proper ventilation in the factories. These fliers were given not only to the women but also to the bosses and foremen, and to any passers-by. Even those women who didn’t support the movement stayed in the picket line, more afraid to cross their sisters than their bosses.
The enthusiasm was short-lived.
Suddenly a gang of hoodlums fell upon the women with switches and baseball bats, corralling them toward the factory entrance. The intimidation alone was enough to force obedience. Very few women were actually hit or whipped. Once inside, the foremen escorted the women to their places.
Clara, however, was singled out and dragged into the street by the hired thugs.
Nina instinctively rushed over to help. She yanked one of the hooligans off Clara before the police appeared to stop the fracas. All the other women were inside the factory or peering out from the doorway. Only Clara and Nina remained in the street.
The factory boss walked up. “Arrest these two for insurrection.”
Clara was badly injured. The police commander sent her to the hospital, while Nina was taken to the police station.
For the women of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory, another twelve-hour day without fresh air awaited them. The angry foremen were quick to punish any failure or perceived disobedience. Elsa had seen her mother’s arrest but was forced into the factory. By the time she was finally released from duty the police headquarters had closed for the night. She couldn’t get her mother out until the next morning.
Adrenaline alone powered both Nina and Elsa through those endless workdays and the long nights in the kitchen preparing for the wedding. Neither stopped to think how much it had taken out of them until they got home Sunday night after Sonja was married. Both of them went immediately to bed.
Elsa came down with an inevitable cold a day later. But there was still no time to rest. Work at the factory went on.
Several weeks after the wedding, the strike finally came. Nina knew she and Elsa would be able to endure it. If Sonja had still lived with them, she might not have had the courage to walk out on her job as winter approached. But as it was, she knew it was the right thing to do and was proud to have Elsa standing beside her.
The wedding guests had been generous, so despite what they had spent on preparations, Nina thought they had just enough money left to last the winter, if it came to that.
Twenty thousand women had walked out of their garment factory jobs. The strike lasted the entire winter. Despite the financial hardship it placed on many women, a spirit of camaraderie sustained them. Nina and Elsa took in two women who lost their apartments because of the strike. Rachel filled her once lonely apartment with as many as a half dozen refugees. When the strike ended in February, they knew they had won a major victory for women workers.
The workweek was shortened to fifty-two hours, pay was increased, and provisions were enacted to ensure equal treatment of union and non-union employees. More importantly, the women of New York City, and indeed, of all major US cities, felt the empowerment of having stood successfully against oppression. From that point on, other victories—such as the right to vote—seemed to be only a matter of time.
Despite the success of the strike, Clara Lemlich was permanently barred from New York City’s garment industry. Her leadership had made her something of a celebrity, however, so she had the support to continue her work as a reformer and suffragist. Though they initially went back to the Triangle Factory after the strike ended, Nina and Rachel were advised by women of the union to look for other employment. The bosses were still angry about the money they had lost that winter, and hadn’t forgotten who the strike instigators were. Rachel knew a number of clothiers in the Jewish community and was able to get Nina a job, as well as one for herself. Nina found it frustrating—having so recently learned English—to now hear nothing but
Yiddish all day long. But a job was a job, and she was thankful to have one where she wouldn’t be abused.
So once again Elsa was alone at the factory where she had spent almost every day of her American life. But things were very different. She was now sent home at a regular hour, and earned a dollar and ten cents a day.
The loom was gone. Due to the lowered hours and increased wages, the factory managers deemed it unprofitable to weave fabric as well as to assemble clothing in the same facility. Bolts of fabric now arrived daily from mills in Massachusetts. Elsa was assigned to a sewing machine on the tenth floor of the building. She knew how to sew, so she didn’t mind. But it saddened her to be separated from Beth, who now worked at the finishing table on the ninth floor.
Chapter Seven
Tragedy at the Triangle
As quitting time approached, Elsa looked forward to the evening with her mother and Pastor Reus. Thanks to the successful strike, work on Saturdays ended at four forty-five. It made a huge difference, leaving time for an enjoyable evening. The factory windows were open now. Elsa could sense the springtime air growing warmer each day.
With her increased leisure hours, Elsa continued to visit Josephine one or two nights per week, but it was more to see a friend than to learn reading. The truth was, Elsa had learned everything about the English language that Josephine could teach her. Josephine had realized it first and told her. Elsa had been slow to agree, but now she knew it was true. Still hungry to learn, Elsa had sought other ways. Pastor Reus had a good little library at the rectory. He lent her books in both English and German that she could use to push her reading skills and further her knowledge of both languages. Tonight’s visit was to hear about some work in translation that the minister thought would suit Elsa. The type of opportunity she had been working so long for might finally have arrived.
Love of Finished Years Page 6
