Merigolda, my husband’s great-grandmother, had immigrated to the United States from Russia in 1905 as a young woman, escaping from the czar of Russia’s revolt. She settled on the Lower East Side like many young Jewish men and women. After finding a place to live she looked for work. Although she was only a bit religious, she still kept Shabbos like she had when she was growing up. Yet in those days, there wasn’t work to be found which included Saturdays off. So with what seemed no choice, she started working at the Triangle Waist Factory where many young Jewish and Italian women found work.
The factory didn’t treat their victims – I mean workers – so well. They would lock the doors after they all came into the workroom, made them pay for their sewing machines, bathroom privileges were usually refused, and safety codes were unheard of. But the women didn’t really complain.
As the end of the week approached, she was very unhappy at the thought of having to work on Shabbos. So even though the girls got pain on Saturday and she wasn’t sure how she would get her money, she decided she was not going to go in. And if that meant losing her job, so be it. To not keep Shabbos and not honor her parents seemed too much of a price to pay for a job she didn’t really like. Friday, March 24, 1911 was her last day.
The next day, Saturday, March 25 is remembered for the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire, the deadliest industrial disaster in the history of the city, and one of the deadliest in US history. The fire caused the deaths of 146 garment workers – 123 women and 23 men. Because the owners had locked the doors to the stairwells and exits, many of the workers could not escape and jumped from the high windows.
The fire led to legislation that improved factory safety standards and helped spur the growth of the International Ladies’ Garment Workers’ Union (ILGWU) which fought for better working conditions for sweatshop workers.
For our family, it assured us that there was a family, since Merigolda survived. It also gave our family the push that brought us back to yiddishkeit. Like the Gemara says: “Those that keep Shabbos, Shabbos keeps.”
