The slums in New York are the place where immigrants come to live, and their dreams go to die. Every single person living in the crowded flats came hoping for a better life, yet none of them expected that they would end up where they did; destitute, living anywhere from 5 to 8 people to a one room apartment. Most of the time, they never escape; they spend their entire life living in a slum, working in some factory making barely enough to get by. Meanwhile, their landlords, their bosses, and even other civilians living only a few blocks away live comfortably ignorant, and even if they do know how the rest of us live, they don't care at all.
My family's flat was on the fifth floor of our building. It was the cheapest one offered. It was small, and was the furthest from any exit or the stairs, but it had a window overlooking a small garden owned by the landlord, and it was home. I lived with my mother Elizabeth, my sister Alice, my brother Matthew, my aunt Louise, my uncle Andrew, and my cousin Marie. My father left my mother shortly before she gave birth to my brother, more than ten years ago, and we haven't seen him since. My younger sister doesn't really remember him, but I do. I remember that he was kind and strong. He was a hard worker, and even though he came home exhausted each night, he still made time to play with my sister and me. When he left, she was only four, and I was six.
A year after my father left us, we decided to leave our home in Ireland and make the trek to the United States. My mother said it was because everything in Ireland reminded her of my father. Also, we had heard that the United States was a land of opportunity and that anyone had the potential to make something of himself. I spent my seventh birthday seasick on the voyage to New York, and the rest of my childhood was spent running and climbing through the filthy streets of the Bronx with my sister.
When I turned 14, I went to work in a clothing factory, sewing dresses and blouses, simply to make enough money to pay our rent. My sister followed suit two years later. Together, with the help of my aunt and uncle, we support our little family.
The day I nearly died it was raining, that detail stands out the most in my mind. I was walking to work with my sister, and I remember wanting to get out of the rain before my shoes were entirely soaked through from the muddy rainwater that accumulated on the streets. I remember that I looked up, I don't know why, maybe my instincts told me to, but at the moment I looked up, lightening flashed and in that moment of illumination, I could have sworn that I saw a man leap between the rooftops above me. My sister noticed my motion and asked "What is is Sara?" I told her it was nothing, and she didn't question me.
I shook it off, convinced myself on my way to work that I hadn't really seen what I had thought that I had seen. Then, by the time I was at my station on the tenth floor of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory, I had nearly forgotten the strange incident altogether.
The day was long and filled with sewing women's blouses. Outside, the rain had stopped and the day was mild, for it was only late March. Inside however, it was significantly hotter. Even with opening all of the windows we could, it was still far too hot, and the stagnant air was made stuffier with all of the cotton and dust floating around my coworkers and me.
We were only given a brief break to eat lunch, then everyone went back to work. Sometimes, my coworkers and I would talk while we worked, but even though it was growing closer to the end of our work day, when usually we were livelier, no one really spoke to one another. Just before five, someone shouted that there was a fire.
I looked around, unsure if someone was making a joke, then I saw the flames. The orange tongues of the fire started to rise through the floorboards around the wall, and then suddenly everyone dashed to the corridor that led to the elevator, the main exit. The air began to feel hotter and the smoke filled the room so that it was difficult to see and breathe. I watched my coworkers and my friends cry out in desperation for the elevator to come, but I knew that those below us would fill it before it came to get them. Others rushed to the fire escape, but it was so narrow that they could only exit one at a time. I knew then, watching my peers struggle to escape, that I might not make it out alive.
I heard the squeal of the fire engines as they arrived at the scene, and the hiss of the water hoses combating the flames. I looked out of one of the windows, and saw firemen try to save girls trapped on the floors below me with ladders, but even the tallest ones that they had brought were too short to reach those who were trapped. I saw my friends grow desperate as the flames spread through the room.
That was when a mysterious man in a hood appeared. He came up to me and said "Come with me if you want to live."
He led me to a window that faced away from the crowds, and the firetrucks. The windows here overlooked the neighboring buildings, and the drop was a little shorter. "When you land," he said "bend your knees slightly and let the momentum carry you forward, then roll onto your shoulder and you will be fine."
It took me a moment to comprehend everything that he was saying"Wait a minute," I said, "who are you?"
"All you need to know is that if you don't jump, you will die in here" he said.
For a moment I simply stood there, trying to understand what I was supposed to do. He sighed, I could tell he was frustrated that I did not comprehend. "I will go first" he said "watch me then follow." I nodded, and he stepped out onto the sill of the open window. Then the mysterious hooded man leaped from the edge and deftly landed on the adjacent roof. He looked back at me, then I knew it was my turn. Even though I was scared, I still stepped onto the window sill. Behind me, the flames had consumed a significant amount of the floor, including the path to the elevators and the fire escape. Then I looked out. A few stories below me was the building that he had leaped onto, and between us was a five foot wide, ten story drop into the alleyway. I knew that if I didn't clear the alleyway that I would fall to the ground and die. 'Hell,' I thought 'I might die even if I stick the landing'. Either way, I knew I had no choice, that this was the only way that I might be able to walk away from this. "Come on Sara!" he shouted from below me, "It's now or never." I took one last backwards glance into the burning room behind me, said a prayer and gathered my courage, and then I jumped.