The Triangle Fire (23 page)

And then Margaret began to open the door. I take her on one side—I pushed her on the side and I said, “Wait, I will open that door.” I tried, pulled the handle in and out, all ways and I couldn’t open it. She pushed me on the other side, got hold of the handle and then she tried. And then I saw her bending down on her knees, and her hair was loose, and the trail of her dress was a little far from her, and then a big smoke came and I couldn’t see.

I just know it was Margaret, and I said, “Margaret,” and she didn’t reply. I left Margaret, I turned my head on the side and I noticed the trail of her dress and the ends of her hair begin to burn. Then I ran in, in a small dressing room that was on the Washington side, there was a big crowd and I went out from there, stood in the center of the room, between the machines and between the examining tables.

I noticed afterwards on the other side, near the Washington side windows, Bernstein, the manager’s brother throwing around like a wildcat at the window, and he was chasing his head out of the window, and pull himself back in—he wanted to jump, I suppose, but he was afraid. And then I saw the flames cover him. I noticed on the Greene Street side someone else fell down on the floor and the flames cover him.

And then I stood in the center of the room, and I just turned my coat on the left side with the fur to my face, the lining on the outside, got hold of a bunch of dresses that was lying on the examining table not burned yet, covered my head and tried to run through the flames on the Greene Street side. The whole door was a red curtain of fire, but a young lady came and she wouldn’t let me in. I kicked her with my foot and I don’t know what became of her.

I ran out through the Greene Street side door, right through the flames on to the roof.

In cross-examination, Steuer took the long way round, asking numerous questions about the witness’s family, her two weeks’ wait to testify, and her visit to the Asch building with Bostwick and Rubin. Then suddenly, he called on her to repeat her account of the death of Margaret Schwartz. Kate Alterman told it for the second time in these words:

I went out from the dressing room, went to the Waverly side windows to look for fire escapes, I didn’t find any and Margaret Schwartz was with me, afterwards she disappeared. I turned away to get to Greene Street side, but she disappeared, she disappeared from me. I went to the toilet rooms, bent my face over the sink, and then went to the Washington side to the elevators, but there was a big crowd, and I saw a crowd around the door, trying to open the door; there I saw Bernstein, the manager’s brother, trying to open the door but he couldn’t.

He left; and Margaret was there, too, and she tried to open the door and she could not. I pushed her on a side. I tried to open the door, and I couldn’t and then she pushed me on the side and she said, “I will open the door,” and she tried to open the door, and then a big smoke came and Margaret Schwartz I saw bending down on her knees, her hair was loose and her dress was on the floor and a little far from her.

And then she screamed at the top of her voice, “Open the door! Fire! I am lost, there is fire!” and I went away from Margaret. I left, stood in the middle of the room, went in the middle of the room, between the machines and examining tables, and then I went in.

I saw Bernstein, the manager’s brother, throwing around the windows, putting his head from the window—he wanted to jump, I suppose, but he was afraid—he drawed himself back, and then I saw the flames cover him, and some other man on the Greene Street side, the flames covered him, too.

And then I turned my coat on the wrong side and put it on my head with the fur to my face, the lining on the outside, and I got hold of a bunch of dresses and covered the top of my head. I just got ready to go and somebody came and began to chase me back, pulling my dress back, and I kicked her with the foot and she disappeared.

I tried to make my escape. I had a pocketbook with me, and that pocketbook began to burn, I pressed it to my heart to extinguish the fire, and I made my escape right through the flames—the whole door was a flame right to the roof.

Were these the words of a witness who had been coached and drilled?

The accounts were similar but not identical. The sequence of events was parallel. Much of the language was identical. But there were also important differences. The second account was shorter. It also mentioned the Waverly side fire escape, and Margaret’s screams, which are missing in the first account. In her first telling Kate declared she said she would open the door but in the second telling she quotes Margaret as saying this.

Steuer asked wasn’t the door “like a wall of flame?” “Like a red curtain,” Kate answered.

“Now there was something that you left out,” Steuer continued. “When Bernstein was jumping around, do you remember what that was like? Like a wildcat, wasn’t it?”

“Like a wildcat,” Kate Alterman replied.

“You did leave that out didn’t you, just now, when you told us about Bernstein, that he jumped around like a wildcat?”

“Well, I didn’t imagine whether a wildcat or a wild dog; I just speak to imagine just exactly,” she answered.

Now Steuer switched back to details of the witness’s life and the location of her machine in the shop. He had prepared the destruction of her acceptability.

Then he asked her to tell her story for a third time. This time she didn’t forget the two points on which Steuer had questioned her after the second account. Also, this time she quoted neither herself nor Margaret as declaring “I will open the door,” and in this third telling, there are no terrible screams from Margaret. Instead, the account is considerably shorter:

I went out to the Waverly side windows to look for fire escapes. Margaret Schwartz was with me, and then Margaret disappeared. I called her to Greene Street, she disappeared and I went into the toilet room, went out, bent my face over the sink, and then I wanted to go to the Washington side, to the elevator. I saw there a big crowd, I couldn’t push through. I saw around the Washington side door a whole lot of people standing, I pushed through and there I saw Bernstein, the manager’s brother, trying to open the door; he could not and he left.

Margaret Schwartz was there, she tried to open the door and she could not. I pushed Margaret on the side, tried to open the door, I could not and then Margaret pushed me on the other side, and she tried to open the door. But smoke came and Margaret bent on her knees; her trail was a little far from her and her hair was loose, and I saw the ends of her dress and the ends of her hair begin to burn.

I went into the small dressing room, there was a big crowd, and I tried—I stood there and I went out right away, pushed through and went out and then I stood in the center of the room between the examining tables and the machines.

Then I noticed the Washington side windows—Bernstein, the manager’s brother, trying to jump from the window, he stuck his head out—he wanted to jump, I suppose, but he was afraid—then he would draw himself back, then I saw the flames cover him. He jumped like a wildcat on the walls.

And then I stood, took my coat, turning the fur to my head, the lining to the outside, got hold of a bunch of dresses that was lying on the table, and covered it up over my head, and I just wanted to go and some lady came and she began to pull the back of my dress; I kicked her with the foot and I don’t know where she got to.

And then I had a purse with me and that purse began to burn, I pressed it to my heart to extinguish the fire. The whole door was a flame, it was a red curtain of fire, and I went right on to the roof.

There it was. Steuer had asked for them and her own lawyer had made no objection. So there was the “curtain” of fire and there was poor Bernstein’s doomed brother jumping “like a wildcat.” She had remembered.

Steuer could have asked Kate to repeat the story again. But Margaret Schwartz died no more that morning. The court adjourned for lunch.

After the recess, after he had elicited the fact that Kate had five sisters and her statement that only once had she tried to talk about the tragedy to them and they had stopped her, Steuer took her back to the point at which she stood in the center of the floor, between the machines and the examining table.

“Now tell us from there what you did,” he commanded. Kate Alterman said:

I saw Bernstein on the Washington side, Bernstein’s brother, throw around like a wildcat; he wanted to jump, I suppose, but he was afraid. And then he drawed himself back and the flames covered him up.

And I took my coat, turned it on the wrong side with the fur to my face and the lining on the outside, got hold of a bunch of dresses from the examining table, covered up my head, and I wanted to run, and then a lady came and she began to pull my dress back, she wanted to pull me back, and I kicked her with my foot—I don’t know where she got to.

And I ran out through the Greene Street side door, which was in flames; it was a red curtain of fire on that door; to the roof.

Once again, she had remembered the “curtain” of fire, the desperate man thrashing about “like a wildcat.”

Steuer nailed it down. “You never studied those words, did you?” he asked.

“No, sir.”

Bostwick rushed in to save his key witness. Kate Alterman could certainly give the account in other language. She had used different words to tell him about Margaret Schwartz’s death the previous Saturday, Bostwick insisted.

“State to the jury why you tried to repeat the last time what you told Mr. Steuer in the same language that you used the first time you told Mr. Steuer.”

“Because,” Kate Alterman replied, “he asked me the very same story over and over, and I tried to tell him the same thing, because he asked me the very same thing over and over.”

But irreparable damage had been done. Steuer asked if she could tell the jury the same words she had used in her written statement which she had made for Bostwick.

“Probably I can. My written statement was nine months ago,” she answered.

“Tell us the words in the statement, please, now.”

“Shall I tell you just as in the statement?”

“Yes, the words in the statement.”

“Well, I gave a very long statement, I believe, to Mr. Rubin.”

“Now, start with the words in the statement, please, and not an explanation, Miss, if you can. Tell us just how you started the statement, and then give us the words that are in the statement.”

“Well, it would be 4:45 on Saturday, I think that I started this way, I am not quite sure, I don’t remember just how I started the beginning of the statement, I can’t do it to you.”

“Mr. Bostwick asked you before whether you could tell again in the same words of the statement and you said yes. Now I suppose you did not understand the question that way, did you?” Steuer wound up.

“No, sir, I did not,” Kate Alterman finished.

Was this the point at which Steuer won his case? Without making a charge, he had sought to demonstrate that the witness had been coached. But if that were so, would not her own attorney have cautioned against repeating identical language? Steuer, in a remarkable courtroom performance, had broken through the curtain of public sympathy for the shop girls and without once saying a word against Kate Alterman had yet impugned her reliability. Were the similarities in her four accounts more significant than the differences? Had she undermined herself through a fatal misunderstanding of what was wanted from her on the witness stand?

In charging the jury before it retired to seek a verdict, Judge Crain read Article 6, Section 80, of the Labor Law: “All doors leading in or to any such factory shall be so constructed as to open outwardly where practicable, and shall not be locked, bolted, or fastened during working hours.”

When he carefully emphasized that “all” meant “every such door,” Steuer took an exception.

Judge Crain then considered the meaning of “working hours.” He told the jury the term included not merely the period of time during which persons are actually employed at their machines, cutting tables, examining tables, and desks, “but also a reasonable period cf time for the exit of such persons from the place in which they are employed after the cessation of their work.” Steuer again took an exception.

Then Judge Crain phrased the issue confronting the jury:

“You must be satisfied from the evidence, among other things, before you can find these defendants guilty of the crime of manslaughter in its first degree not merely that the door was locked—if it was locked—but that it was locked during the period mentioned under circumstances bringing knowledge of that fact to these defendants.

“But it is not sufficient that the evidence should establish that the door was locked—if it was locked—during such a period; nor yet that the defendants knew that it was locked during such a period—if it was locked.

“You must also be satisfied from the evidence beyond a reasonable doubt that there was the relation of cause and effect between the locked door and the death of Margaret Schwartz.

“Was the door locked? If so, was it locked under circumstances importing knowledge on the part of these defendants that it was locked? If so, and Margaret Schwartz died because she was unable to pass through, would she have lived if the door had not been locked and she had obtained access to the Washington Place stairs and had either remained in the stairwell or gone down to the street or to another floor?”