Originally published in the Forverts, March 29 ,1911 A fiddle hangs on the wall, but the hand which played it is lying somewhere, a piece of coal. Among the 30 bodies in the morgue it has not been found. Let us go to the second room in 78 Clinton Street, where the family Rosen lived,…
Originally published in the Forverts, March 27, 1911 The sun shines down from a clear sky and a fresh warm breeze blows. But the entire area around 26th Street, where the morgue is located, is in grief and mourning. The blocks around First Avenue through Second and Third Avenues are a turbulent sea of people,…
Originally published in the Forverts, March 28, 1911 A closet full of wedding clothes. Standing by the closet, as if beside a holy Torah ark, are Yetta Goldstein’s two brothers, choking on their tears. They hug each other. One of them yells out: “If there was even one little bone left for us to identify…
Originally published in the Forverts, March 30, 1911 “I wanted to dash back in and warn my girlfriends, but the crush of people pushed me aside and I never saw them again — never saw them again!” Frantically, Miss Ray Cohen of 224 Delancey Street sobbed these words to the Forverts reporter. Miss Cohen worked…
Originally published in the Forverts, April 2, 1911 Come home, my daughter, come back home A man has told us about America That the factories are not safe there That it’s dangerous to ride the iron-train. People live there on the fifth floor — what a fright! And a person’s life is not worth a…
Originally published in the Forverts, March 28, 1911 A Mother Wrote From Russia: “My Daughter! So Many Tragedies Occur In America; It’s Better For You To Come Home!” The Letter Remained Unanswered. – Two Joyous Weeks After The Wedding; The Catastrophe Disrupted Their Happiness—Other Heartrending Stories The desperate screams torn out of the young victims…
Originally published in the Forverts on April 3, 1911 Thousands packed the Metropolitan Opera House yesterday afternoon, where the mass meeting about the vast tragedy of the fire was held. Wealthy aristocratic men and women sat in the opera boxes. The orchestra and gallery seats were open to all and were filled largely with working…
Originally published in the Forverts, March 26, 1911. The heart grieves, breath is held, eyes cry bloody tears. The disaster is too great, too dreadful, to be able to express one’s feelings. A mountain of people, of children burned to death! Young children, blood and milk, full of life’s force, lying in a pile of…
Originally published in the Forverts, March 29, 1911 Funerals: Oceans of tears were spilled yesterday at the funerals of the victims of Saturday’s fire. Following each hearse were not only the closest relatives and friends of the dead but also hundreds of people that didn’t know them. And all of them were sobbing: those unacquainted…
Originally published in the Forverts, March 27, 1911 The entire neighborhood is sitting shiva. Every heart is torn in mourning. The human heart is drowning in tears. What a catastrophe! What a dark misfortune! The depth of the pain, the bitter ripping of the heart, for the first time the soul is overflowing such that…
Originally published in the Forverts, April 6, 1911 A black parade, a black day, a black sky and a black earth. Black rows of mourners walked through rain-soaked streets as black threatening clouds dragged through the air; it was as if the day had been custom-ordered for this singular soundless, deeply mournful funeral march. Never…
אַנאַ שטערנשיס האָט געזאַמלט הונדערטער בעל־פּהיִקע גבֿית־עדותן פֿון מענער און פֿרױען פֿון פֿאַרשײדענע סאָציאַלע שיכטן.
