March 25, 1911 / March 25, 2017
Back in 2009 and 2011, I participated in FAX at the Contemporary Museum in Baltimore and the Carpenter Center at Harvard University. Artists were asked to fax their work to the traveling exhibition, which could come in at any point during the showâs run. The starting point for my contribution (one of the pages I faxed is illustrated above) was the history of the fax machine, a precursor of which was something called the telautograph, invented by Elisha Gray in 1888. Hereâs Gray describing what he called the âArt of Telegraphyâ:
By my invention you can sit down in your office in Chicago, take a pencil in your hand, write a message to me, and as your pencil moves, a pencil here in my laboratory moves simultaneously, and form the same letters and work.Â
Researching the history of telegraphy led me to various accounts of the deviceâs role in the tragic events of the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire.
The Triangle Shirtwaist Company occupied the eighth, ninth, and tenth floors of the Asch Building in lower Manhattan. On March 25, 1911, a fire originating on the eighth floor resulted in the death of 146 workersâmostly immigrant women ages 14 to 43.
When the fire broke out, Dinah Lipschitz, a bookkeeper on the eighth floor, rushed to sound the alarm to the companyâs switchboard two floors up. Rather than picking up the telephone next to her, Lipschitz turned to the newly acquired office telautograph, wrote âFIRE!â and pressed a button to alert the switchboard to an incoming message.
Mary Alter was on duty at the companyâs main switchboard. She heard the buzz and turned to the corresponding telautograph to wait for a message, but the pen never moved. Lipschitz made a second attempt a few precious minutes later using the telephone. Alter answered, but in her rush to alert management on the tenth floor, she neglected to connect Lipschitz to the ninth floorâtelephone calls between floors could only be connected via the main switchboard.Â
In 2009, I was thinking a lot about the failed promises of technologyâhow we sometimes overlook what gets lost when new technologies take holdâso I was particularly struck by Lipschitz putting her trust in the newer, less tested telautograph over the known reliability of the telephone.
But an artworkâs meaning can change over time, even for the person who makes it. Today, the point I draw from the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire is the crucial role that health and safety regulations play in our daily lives. The tragedy gave new urgency to the countryâs nascent labor movement and inspired activists like Frances Perkins to campaign for and implement workplace safety reforms.
We take for granted that the buildings we work, learn, or live in are constructed and maintained with basic health and safety standards. That should a fire break out, a reliable alarm will sound, and we can make our way to an unblocked escape route. The Asch Buildingâs locked doors, narrow exits, and its single, unsound fire escape are unthinkable today.
I donât think the Asch Building owners or the Triangle Shirtwaist Company executives wished their tenants and employees bodily harm, but they didnât provide reasonable safety standards because they didnât have to. Regulations keep us accountable as well as safe.
When I originally faxed my research documents to FAX, I didnât consider it political art. But weâre facing a new era of deregulation and living in a time in which the basic norms of human decency and empathy seem as ephemeral as Dinah Lipschitzâs scrawled âFIRE!â alarm.
