Triangle Fire Transforms the Workplace

Triangle Fire Transforms the Workplace

March 25, 2019, will commemorate the 108th anniversary of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire.  The 1911 fire was the deadliest workplace disaster in NYC before 9-11.  It was significant not because 146 workers died, but because it instigated significant reform. At the time workplace safety was barely regulated and rarely thought about . . . except, perhaps, by the workers themselves. Other workplace disasters had occurred in the past and would again in the future.  You may remember a similar fire at a factory in Bangladesh some weeks ago.

When I decided to write a mystery against the backdrop of the Triangle, I had no idea what I was in for.  Research took me in several directions: the forensics of fire, the consequences of “defenestration,” that is, vertical falls from high places, the difficulty in identifying bodies falling from such heights, the safety hazards for garment workers, women’s rights, workers’ rights, changes in the American workplace.

But I also researched the time and place of the disaster.  1911, Greenwich Village, New York City.  A time when Ellis Island kept its arms open to immigrants from many countries — immigrants who came for a better life, but often wound up in sweatshops, or worse.  A time of Tammany Hall and corruption.  A time of women’s suppression.  But also a time of new beginnings, hope, and freedom in a new land.

I am a native New Yorker and was amazed at the fantastic bits of information I dug up.  I learned, for instance, that Washington Square Park is built on what was once a potter’s field, where 100,000 people were buried for a century and a half.  I walked the streets of Greenwich Village, saw the buildings my characters would have seen, drank in bars they patronized, and gazed up at the ninth story of the Asch Building (now part of NYU)  to visualize the flames bursting through the windows and the workers leaping to their deaths.

The cover of my book is a photo I took of the building in 2010, with smoke and color added for dramatic effect.  

For those of you who write about history, or simply enjoy reading it, I know you’ll agree that real-life events in the past make a grand backdrop for a fictional story.

Murder, in particular.

Creating Fiction From Fact

Creating Fiction From Fact

A brief story appeared on a local news station.  It went something like this:  Giant 11-ton wind turbine blade sheared off and flew hundreds of feet to land (luckily on no living creature) in the desert of Ocotillo, California.

The actual incident is under investigation, revealing a dark history of serious safety hazards including the wind company’s — Siemens — guilty pleas to corruption on a global scale including accusations of bribery and other serious charges in at least 20 countries.

A press conference was called and the following facts emerged:

  1. Wind turbines kill more than 573,000 birds (and bats) every year. Many are endangered birds like eagles and condors. http://landing.newsinc.com/shared/video.html?freewheel=90121&sitesection=ap&VID=24819212
  2. Wind turbines are not efficient sources of energy. They can only operate within a very narrow window of wind speed (not too much, not too little) and when they are outside this window they must shut down.  However, when they are down they still need electricity to power them, thus “peaker” plants run by electric companies actually generate the power.  Very inefficient as an energy source.
  3. The wind turbines themselves are making life difficult for those living nearby. The noise is creating health concerns for people and animals.  Chickens are not laying eggs, dogs are cowering in the corners, children are developing headaches.
  4. The company (that purchased and installed the turbines) cares nothing for the environment. In the case of Ocotillo, they have bulldozed the desert and not replaced the plants, including Ocotillos, a rare and protected desert cactus.
  5. This same company has shown complete disrespect for Indian culture. They have desecrated ancient Indian sacred sites with barely an apology. 

So what the heck am I going on about?  Think about the possibilities for your next mystery or thriller. Small, desert town (with, would you believe, a Lazy Lizard Saloon) is besieged by corporate giant.  Lives ruined, litigation ensues, people are murdered to keep the corporate secrets.  And what about the environmental effects?  Animal rights?  Indian sacred site desecration?  Local people going mad from the noise and vibration?  Not to mention the danger of a blade shearing off and cutting them in half (like it did to some poor fellow in Oregon.  It’s true.  Hell of a story.)

Now if that’s not enough, here’s the clincher.  The company in question here, Siemens, a German company, has a lurid past.  The BBC reported that they have past collaborations with Nazis.  They used slave labor from concentration camps including Ravensbruck and Auschwitz.  These slaves reportedly built electric switches for the Siemens-manufactured V-2 rockets used to bomb the allies during WWII.  More recently Siemens sought to register the trademark “Zyklon,” the poison gas insecticide used in Nazi gas chambers.

Is this a thriller or what?

Composing a Book. . . From Prelude to Coda

Composing a Book. . . From Prelude to Coda

Thank you to the readers and writers who responded to my query about a concept for my next book.  Your input and my proclivity toward war(s) has helped me decide:  I shall return to World War II.  Instead of the Nazi confiscation of art and a missing Van Gogh painting as in my book, Deadly Provenance, I will focus on music and stolen music manuscripts.  Working title: The Final Note.

Historical fact: Beginning in the early 1930s, edicts against the Jewish population began emerging in Germany.  These edicts became increasingly distressing and disruptive, causing Jews to forfeit their businesses, their homes, their possessions.  Slowly and inexorably they were impelled toward the Final Solution where they would forfeit their most precious commodity: their lives.

In 1933, a group of German Jews set up Der Jüdische Kulturbund, a cultural federation consisting of unemployed Jewish musicians, actors, artists, and singers.  The Kulturbund, or Kubu, was created with the consent of the Nazis strictly for Jewish audiences. The Nazis cleverly permitted this association in order to hide its oppression of the Jews. The Kubu was illustrative of Jewish creativity in response to cultural exclusion.

The Kubu performed theatrical performances, concerts, exhibitions, operas, and lectures all over Germany, allowing Jewish performers to earn their livelihood, however scarce. Under the watchful eye of Sturmbannführer, Hans Hinkel, whose boss was Joseph Goebbels, Kubu survived for eight years performing for audiences that continued to diminish.

My research into the life of Jews at this time is only part of my work.  Since the Kubu musicians were permitted to play only “Jewish” musical compositions, I will be researching music history during this period.  In addition, my musician protagonist in the back story will be writing his own compositions. While I play the piano, I have little music theory background and have never written music.

Writers of historical fiction must become artists, teachers, police officers, lawyers, detectives, photographers, doctors . . . all manner of occupations in their novels.  For this book I will become a musicologist.  Well, I can only hope.

The stolen music manuscripts will lead to dire consequences when we fast forward to the modern storyline. Can the manuscripts be authenticated?  Can we learn through modern science and technology, the attribution of these brilliant symphonies?  My task is to find the answers.

Your ideas are welcome.

Creating the Proper Villain

Creating the Proper Villain

Writing mysteries is an exercise in pitting bad characters against good.

There are degrees of bad and good, of course, but in compelling stories, the bad character is often seriously, diabolically, dangerously bad.  He (or she) will certainly have good points.  He may be charming, clever, handsome, sympathetic, and have superior interpersonal skills–think Ted Bundy–but the reader learns soon that these are just a cover, enabling him to get close to people in order to do his dirty work.

I have used individuals in my books to play the villain.  An art critic, a factory owner, a southern sympathizer, a rich landowner.  In others, I have used a group (or blast, or den, or herd, or flock, or conflagration—see my last blog on word play) of baddies, ie: Nazis, where most folk will agree that it’s easier to count the good ones than the bad.

A “collective” villain makes for an interesting read.  The Nazis, the hedge fund crooks, the greedy corporate thieves, the Republicans, the Democrats, the tax collectors, the CIA, the FBI, the police, lawyers, politicians, doctors . . . all can play the role of collective villains.

In the case of the Nazis, you expect evil.  In the case of doctors, you may not.  Anyone can be a villain.  If your experience tells you Nazis are bad, a good Nazi will be an interesting character.  Same is true in reverse for a doctor.  Then you have the Nazi doctor and you won’t know what to believe.  But I digress.

A good writer will build each character with good points and bad points that the reader will both admire and loathe.  It’s a fine line to walk.  If your reader loathes your character too much, he (or she) might put the book down.

In the case of the Nazis, there is, built-in, a sense of evil, danger, and villainy.  And because Nazis were historically real, readers will have an innate sense of foreboding right from the first page.

Hence, my next book will return to the Nazis and World War II.  The theme will be not be confiscated art . . . but stolen music.

The Art of Tension

The Art of Tension

Hurry . . . Turn the Page!

“Amanda stepped off the elevator on the lower level of the parking garage.  At ten o’clock on a Saturday night, the level was empty except for her car . . . and one other she didn’t recognize.  A sound of dripping water and the soft scurrying of animal feet – rats? – made her throat close. 

She swiveled her head in search of anything or anyone nearby then took a tentative step toward her car.  Then another step and faster, faster, until she was almost at a sprint.  Her high heels clicked on the concrete floor and echoed in the cavernous space.  Finally, she reached her car.  Damn, why didn’t she have her keys ready? 

Amanda fumbled through her bag, her heart now ratcheted up, pumping blood through her ears.  All she could hear was the furious whooshing sound of her own fear.

There, her keys, at the bottom, now in her hand.  She clicked the fob and the latches opened.  She reached for the handle, but before her fingers closed around it, she detected a breathy squeak of rubber soled shoes behind her.  She dropped her bag, swung around with a gasp, hands clenched into fists, ready to defend herself and  . . .”

So, what do you think?  Tension?  I always love the late-at-night parking garage scene.  Scares the heck out of me, even now.

What is tension, really, and why is it so important in writing? Even if you’re not writing a mystery.  Even if you’re writing non-fiction.

The noun tension has its Latin roots in “tendere,” which means to stretch, and tension occurs when something is stretched either physically or emotionally to its limits.  Strained relations between countries can cause political tensions to rise.  Tension can be added to a rubber band by stretching it to its limits.  By the way, you can release nervous tension by shooting that rubber band at the local bully.

Tension is the means to get your reader to turn the page, particularly if it’s used at the end of a chapter as a cliffhanger.  People, for the most part, don’t like to leave things unresolved.  They want to find the solution, even if it’s an unsatisfactory one (that’s another story.) 

While you cannot (or should not) distort facts when writing non-fiction, tension around real events can ramp up the readers’ pulse just as thrillers can.  Take “The Monuments Men,” for instance.  How tense can a situation be when you have a group of men and women trying to save the art and monuments of a Europe at war?  When, finally the fighting ends, and they discover, in a dark, damp mine in Austria, a cache of hidden loot that would make King Midas gasp?  When, they manage to “derail” an art train bound for Germany with stolen paintings of Masters like Leonardo.

Now that’s tension.  That’s real life.  Whew.

I welcome your feedback and samples of tension in your writing.