They started coming out the windows at a quarter to five on a bright, sunny spring afternoon. Large bundles of fabric, tossed from a ninth-story window in New York's Greenwich Village. There was the sound of a muffled explosion and breaking glass, and the smell of smoke. Then the dark dress goods falling and landing with a heavy thud on the paving stones below.
“He's trying to save the best cloth,” one observer said knowingly, sure he was watching a garment factory owner trying to salvage his stock.
Then someone noticed they weren't bundles of cloth at all, but young women. The screams started, the crowds came running, and the fire engines and police wagons raced up. But there was little any of them could do.
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