Mr. Grannick, one of the garment cutters, a very nice little man, he stood up on a chair and tried to make the girls listen but a lot of the girls couldn’t see him because now there was so much smoke, and people were screaming and coughing and choking and nobody could hear what he was saying with the noise—he was one of the ones who got out—and I saw a girl with her hair on fire, and then another one running with her clothes all burning up and so I pushed my way past these two Italian sisters, I think one was called Rosalie, she was the young one, they were just standing there screaming and crying without moving, their faces were all red and their eyes were all red and they were in my way and I never saw them again, I’m sorry, God help me and God help them, but I pushed past them and I saw there were too many girls at the door and nobody could go out that way, it was a terrible thing, but nobody’s fault, because the door, it opened in, didn’t we all know that already, it was a narrow door we all used it to go out, because it was the only way out, it had to be, so we could pass by the guard who inspected us to make sure we weren’t stealing any of the goods—some of the girls took scraps home to make things, and some of them even stole finished waists, one girl, she was new, she tried to hide a waist tucked into her hair in a big rat—that was a style and that was what we called it, a rat—but she was caught, it was just the week before, her name was Ella something Italian like Piacentini, something like that, and she was crying and she promised never to do it again but we didn’t see her any more after that day and we were sorry for her—who would know how lucky she was to be sent away in disgrace from the Triangle that week?

The fire was getting hotter and it was everywhere, on the machines and the tables and all our work was burning up and the smoke was so thick and the smell was just terrible, black from the oil and the burning goods and the smell was so strong, and everyone was coughing and gagging and choking, and there was also the very horrible smell of burning hair, and all those girls were pushing and pushing together, it was just so terrible I can’t really describe it, they were all pushing at once and the girls in the front maybe even got squeezed to death from the pushing but nobody could open that door.

I had an idea about another door—sometimes the bosses went in and out this other door, we were never allowed to go that way on the weekend when the freight elevators weren’t running—it was by the back side of the building instead of the Washington Place side, they would go on these other stairs by the freight elevators to walk up to the tenth floor where the offices were, so I had this idea—I don’t know why nobody else thought of this but everyone was in a big panic and maybe everyone assumed the other door would be locked like always but you have to try, and I’m sorry to say this about all those poor girls who didn’t make it but nobody else thought to try—and I pulled my sister by the hand to go with me over there, across the room, but it was like running towards the flames and it probably didn’t seem right to go towards the fire and all the black smoke to get away, but that’s how a lot of people got out from this building in one way or another, running into the fire to get through, and my sister, why did she pull back, I don’t know.