Elysian Fields

Tomorrow, March 25, 2011, is the 100th anniversary of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire.  It marked the beginning of the end of the Gilded Age.

No doubt even if you had never heard about the fire before, you heard about it this week leading up to its centennial anniversary.  Despite being interested in labor history and reform, I am ashamed to say that I had never heard about the fire until 2003.  I read a review of a new book by David Von Drehle called Triangle: The Fire That Changed America, and it promptly went on my Christmas list.  While so many books of this ilk sensationalize, sanitize, or simplify, Von Drehle does not venture into such shallow territory.

The fire claimed the lives of 146 people.  Most were poor young women and children, and many of them could barely speak English.  Two years prior to the fire, the women of the factory and other garment workers went on strike for better working conditions, better pay, and shorter hours.  They were harassed, threatened, and beaten.  These women were earning meager wages on which their families were utterly dependent.  Understand, by striking and not getting paid, these women were not skipping a movie or giving up a luxury; they and their families were going hungry and being threatened by homelessness.  And still they endured, for us more than for themselves.

The photo above is of Clara Lemlich, a Russian immigrant, who was 19 years old at the time of the 1909 strike.  While the newly formed International Ladies Garment Workers Union Local 25 was meeting at Cooper Union, speaker after speaker encouraged the women to hold steady, that striking would not be in their interest.  Noted labor organizer Samuel Gompers had just finished addressing the crowd, sounding these notes and he was about to introduce another speaker, male of course.  Clara Lemlich suddenly rose and started walking toward the podium saying, "I want say a few words.  I have no further patience for talk as I am one of those who suffers from the things pictured.  I move that we go on a general strike...now!"  The women cheered, a thunderous applause filled the hall.  The strike was on.

The strike went on for some time, but some shops settled early.  Triangle was not one of those shops.  In the end, the Triangle workers won some concessions from management, but management succeed at it's ultimate goal; they kept the union out of their shop.  The right to run your business as you saw fit was thought to be a right in America.  People were simply cogs of industry, as much a machine as the sewing machines the women broke their backs over.  There was no fire code, no mandatory fire drills, no fire safety training, no mandate to install sprinklers.  People, as long as they lived in a certain area of the city (read Lower East Side), were expendable.  This fire changed it all, with America shaking its head at itself, knowing they had failed these women.  Today, as we debate governements' role in our lives, the right to collectively bargain, income inequality, and the need for reform in certain industries to protect the innocent, I can sense these women looking down on us, shaking their heads and hoping they have not died in vain.

Tomorrow at 5:40 PM EDT (which would have been 4:40 PM EST on March 25, 1911, the time the fire broke out), I will be observing a moment of silence for these people.  I hope you will join me.

For more about the fire and it's aftermath, click HERE

The Familiarity of Princes

Indulge me for a moment and, in return, I shall breathe new life into that most hackneyed of phrases, "Life is funny".

In 2003 I decided to buy a satellite radio for my car.  I spend quite a bit of time in my car and as a music lover the thought of such eclectic, commercial free music at my fingertips was very appealing.  I compared the two major carriers at the time, Sirius and XM, carefully pondering the seemingly endless list of channels each had to offer.  After some consideration and a bit of cash, a Sportster Radio with Sirius service was mine.

Most who know me will tell you of one of my most defining characteristics: I am a music snob.  I cop to it.  Life is to short to listen to bad music.  This is why despite being a Christian, I never took Contemporary Christian Music (CCM) seriously.  Bad musicianship and, if I may borrow a phrase from a certain pastor, the "Jesus is my boyfriend" lyrics did not play in its favor.

It was with this mindset I stumbled upon Spirit, Sirius's CCM station, as I was exploring the stations on my new radio.  A song was ending and with a smirk I decided to stay on the station and count how many times "Jesus" was sung in the next song.  A song called Whole Again by someone named Jennifer Knapp was the next song to play.  Impressed by the song musically, touched by it lyrically, and moved by its performance, I was jostled out of my self-satisfied moment.

Now, I am a typical human, so when confronted with evidence contrary to a long held belief, my brain searched for a way to protect my silly notion.  "Well, it's one song.  She got lucky.  A studio enabled song, that's all.", I scoffed.  A few days later, here she was again, except this time the song was Undo Me:

Put away my flesh and bone

Till You own this spirit through me, Lord

Undo me

The craft work of a true artist filled the car; the sly internal rhymes, the intelligently constructed melody, the tension building bridge releasing itself into revelatory verse, the expression of a personal journey universally experienced.  My silly notion had no defense, her very words proving their point.  Pride before the fall, indeed.

As I consumed Jennifer's music (yes, consumed, as it is sustenance to me, modern day manna), I felt a kinship I could not quite explain, something obviously deeper than just enjoying her music.  I have only been able to describe it one way - Two eternal seekers met, took comfort in this welcome yet momentary comradery, saluted one another, and then turned and quietly sailed toward the oceans of our own hearts.

When I met Jennifer, she had only recently returned from a several year, self-imposed hiatus from making music. In fact, she was never sure if she would ever return.  I had come to terms with the fact that I may never be able to hear her play live.  At sound check, she performed a new song she was in the process of writing, her amazing voice echoing beautifully in the hall, expertly conjuring up images found in Rainer Maria Rilke's poetry.  What she could not know at that moment was that I had brought her a volume of Letters To A Young Poet by Rilke as a gift.  When I gave her the book, each of us held onto our respective end of the book, looking down at the cover for a time and then at each other.  We slowly smiled.  As we shared and learned more about each other and as I explained how important her music has been to me, the closing paragraph of Rilke's ninth letter came to mind - "Do not believe that he who seeks to comfort you lives untroubled among the simple and quiet words that sometimes do you good.  His life has much difficulty and sadness and remains far behind yours.  Were it otherwise he would never have been able to find those words."

That other Good Book, The Farmer's Almanac, contains an aphorism about the four things that should never flatter us.  The first is the familiarity of princes.  Maybe, but I think I'll allow it, just this once.  Because here she is again, this time in my church, in my hometown.  Life is funny.