The Brown Building<\/p>\n
We smoked cigarettes at NYU, spoke
\nof Eisenhower, Khrushchev, Joe McCarthy.
\nBefore the Beats, before Elvis, we puffed
\non Camels, flicked our ashes on the floor,
\nand rode elevators to our classes
\nin what was known once as the Asch Building.<\/p>\n
There were no markers to commemorate,
\nor to even whisper of the fire
\nof nineteen-eleven. Today, three are mounted
\non the building. Cast from molten bronze,
\nthey tell the story, yet are placed too high
\nto run your fingers on the frozen names.
\nIn different times, instead of sewing shirts
\nMolly Gerstein might have sat beside us
\nduring freshman English; Ida Brodsky,
\na sleeve setter \u2014 or a science major? \u2014
\nand Jacob Klein might have been a friend.
\nKate Leone was too young for college.<\/p>\n
The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory sewed
\nthe high necked blouses worn by Gibson Girls.
\nThe shop took up the top three floors, the eighth,
\nthe ninth, and tenth, which were consumed by flames
\none Saturday in March at quitting time.
\nThe holocaust still radiates today.
\nOne hundred and forty-six, immigrant men
\nand women, were burned or jumped to death. Some leapt
\nin twos and threes while holding hands, their skirts
\non fire, from the same window spaces
\nwe looked through for spring in Greenwich Village,
\nimpatient for McSorley’s nickel ale.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Don Kentop<\/a> attended NYU in the mid 1950’s before the fiftieth anniversary of the Triangle fire, at a time when public interest in the fire was at a low. He writes, “There were no markers on the building at the time. The discovery, decades later, of the fact that I attended classes in the very building the fire took place, caused me to write ‘The Brown Building.’ However, there was so much more to say, and I was hooked. The next year was spent writing ‘Frozen In Fire. A Documentary In Verse.'” Don lives now in Seattle.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The Brown Building We smoked cigarettes at NYU, spoke of Eisenhower, Khrushchev, Joe McCarthy. Before the Beats, before Elvis, we puffed on Camels, flicked our ashes on the floor, and rode elevators to our classes in what was known once … Continue reading