Dear Journal,                                                                                                                          March 1, 1911

Today I finally arrived in America. I came with my family and my best friend’s family from Italy, or more specifically Sicily. All I remember from my trip is the sound of waves crashing onto the boat and the cries of seagulls. Sometimes I still feel the boat moving around when I try to sleep. These small moments are still the most significant to me and my life will take a drastic change.

My family wanted to come to America because our financial standings were not doing so well. We were farmers and tried to grow crops for the year but the odds were against us. We had little money and wanted new opportunities. We heard from a neighbor that America was the place to go to if an event like this ever happened. My neighbor was named Abigail and we often invited her to our cottage to have meals since she did not have anyone to interact with her. Her friends left to go to America and she would tell us about the new world. Each night she came with a new story. It became a tradition to listen to her after the meal. She told tales that her friends in America heard of such as discovering gold in rivers and that there was an abundance of land, if you move farther away from the city, that was just waiting to be farmed. Tons of jobs were available and the city was flourishing with wealth.

My parents and I were intrigued by this and we both wanted the best for our future. They decided to trust Abigail’s tales and travel to America in hopes of living a better life. My family decided to invite their close friends to see if they would like to escape the hardships as well. They said they would love to. I was excited because my best friend, Giovanni, was coming. Sailing to an unknown place and exploring has always been our dream. He was my childhood friend and we spent most of our time together since he was born. We played games, went to school, had meals together. My mother said that we even started walking together. We could not take much with us and only had a suitcase per person. I only took clothes because my mother said we could purchase more toys when we arrived in America.

The boat ride was not fun at all. I wanted to roam around the ship but my parents did not let me. Additionally, it rained most of the time so the boat swayed too much. I often got sea sick and threw up over the boat. Giovanni would always look at me with concern as my parents patted my back. When we arrived, we took a series of tests to make sure we were healthy and literate. Luckily, we all passed. We decided to share an apartment room with Giovani’s family to cut down the cost of rent but the apartment was cramped and our parents had to sleep on the floor. There were few windows and little light. It was pretty pathetic compared to our home in Italy but we were too tired to complain.

Dear Journal,                                                                                                                       March 22, 1911

America was nothing like what we expected it to be. Abigail lied to us and I feel betrayed. Why would she make America seem like a paradise when it was actually a living hell? People would give us rude stares and make fun of our accents. Sometimes they would “accidentally” push my father to the side. Life inside our tenement wasn’t that great either. We ate the bare minimum such as bread and water. If we were lucky, sometimes we would have butter or jam on it. We also had to share the bathroom with many people.

My father got a job as a factory worker whereas my mother became a waitress. I thought that I should contribute to the family earnings too. I decided to confront my parents about this but they were reluctant to let me do this at first. They thought that I should live a normal life and try to make the best of America. However, I knew that we needed as much money as possible to improve our living conditions. My parents eventually agreed after I pleaded them several more times. I wandered the streets with Giovani and we went to look for jobs. We asked some other immigrants on the streets about possible jobs and they led us to the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory.

We were led to the tenth floor of a building located on 23-29 Washington Place. Our job was simply to sew clothes. We would work for seven days from seven in the morning to eight in the evening and were paid approximately six to fifteen dollars a week. The wages were minimum but it was better than nothing. The only concern I had was that the doors were locked to prevent us from leaving. The clothes were also spread around so it was messy. There was fabric of different materials and colors piled around the floor. I also doubted that any of the equipment was working there. The building seemed rustic and I did not like the environment at all. It was stuffy and the elevators malfunctioned most of the time. However, Giovanni made things seem better since we were always working together. After work, he would tell me jokes and tell me that we were doing the right thing by supporting our family.

Dear Journal,                                                                                                                      March 25, 1911

My time in New York City has reached its ultimate worst today. I arrived at the factory with Giovanni to start our duties. The doors locking signified the start of the workday and we sewed endlessly. We had a small break in between and we ate some sandwiches that our fellow seamstress brought us. I was grateful for them because it was one of the most delicious sandwich that I have ever had since arriving in New York.

However, at about 4:30 pm, a fire started to break out. All I could hear was the screaming women who were telling the other floors to escape. It was a terrifying experience. I heard glass shattering and people on the streets shrieking as they saw women falling out from the building. I was completely horrified and did not know what to do. I stood there and thought that there was no way to escape. Giovanni quickly came to me and told me again that everything would be all right. However, there was a way that he said these words that were different from all the other times. The tone of his voice was chilling but even so, it comforted me to know that someone was there for me. The fire did not reach us yet but Giovanni and I could soon hear the sirens of the firetrucks.

We looked out of the window in hopes that we would be able to escape but to no avail. The ladders did not even reach the ninth floor. I started to break down because there was no way that we would be rescued. The women started to break more windows to let the smoke escape. Then they would jump out the windows and have the firefighters catch them. However, many missed and landed on the pavement instead. Blood and dead bodies covered the streets. There was no way I was going to jump. After seeing that scene, there was no way.

However, Giovani had a different plan in mind. He told me that I would need to be brave and trust his actions. There was never a time when he lied to me even as kids. I decided that I would believe in him even if the world was about to end, which in my case, it soon was. He told me that we could use the fabric to create a rope and tarp that would help the firefighters catch us. It was a brilliant idea so we quickly got to work. It was one of the fastest pieces that we have ever made and I think we finished it in five minutes. We screamed to the firefighters our plan and they agreed.

Looking down from the tenth floor, I was nervous. What if the tarp broke? What if I would be dead? What is being dead like? However, there was no time to think about this since the fire was approaching. However, Giovani was holding my hand and ready to jump when I was. He gave me a reassuring smile and asked “Are you ready?”

I replied with, “Whenever you are.”

We both jumped and he embraced me so that he would fall first if anything was to happen. Luckily nothing did. The only terrible event that happened was that the tarp ripped and others could not use it. We left the scene before we saw any more terrors. While walking, I scolded him afterwards for being so reckless. If anything happened, it should have been me that died since he is more essential to the family. Since he’s a man, he would have more opportunities. He would be able to take care of both my and his family.

I continued to shake even after the incident. The dead bodies on the floor and the emanating heat from the building continued to haunt me. Giovanni and I decided to stop by the park to relax ourselves before going home. We rested on the park bench and just watch the pedestrians go by, ignorant of what happened an hour before.

We thought about how it might have been a mistake to have come to America. We had many regrets and wondered what happened to all the other people we worked with. Was the sandwich lady all right? Was she dead? We didn’t want to find out the truth.

When we went back home, our parents were worried sick. They heard about the incident and went to the site of the incident immediately. They couldn’t find us and decided to search around the area. They assumed the worst had happened but they found us back at the apartment. Their embrace was warm and I was glad to be back home with my family. I started to break down and they did the same as we stayed in that position for a few more moments.

Dear Journal,                                                                                                                      March 26, 1911

My parents came up to me in the morning and told me that I should not work anymore. They said that no amount of money was worth losing me. My parents would take on more jobs and they were even considering going back to Italy. Giovani and I stayed home for a few days until we got news of a protest that was occurring. Apparently, people started to rally against the conditions of the buildings. They wanted proper fire escapes and new work regulations to prevent another event from happening again.

I was surprised by this news and I decided to go join them. The citizens were all united for a common cause. They wanted justice for the terrors that happened to the young girls.

“BETTER CONDITIONS! BETTER BUILDINGS!” they changed in unison.

Both Giovani and I were intrigued by this event. Filled with spirit, we decided to chant and march along with them. We hope that our messages will get through to the government.

Dear Journal,                                                                                                                       April 17, 1911

Our parents are trying to earn money again but this time to go back to Italy. Although we came to America with high expectations, we were let down. However, we were able to learn a lot from our short trip. We should also try to work through our problems before attempting to escape them. Lastly, we should not trust people even if they are close to us. Abigail was someone close to us but in the end, her tales were only tales. I need to be careful next time I go on an epic adventure with death involved.