In the Evergreen Cemetery, they buried the nameless ones.

Hundreds had waited in the heavy rain at the entrance to the cemetery. With silence, bared heads, tears, they honored the dead as they passed. But once again, as at the morgue, there were the curious and the disorderly. As the hearses moved into the cemetery, "half-grown boys ran at top speed through the grounds, jumping over and on the graves," the Tribune reported.

A pit 15 feet long had been dug. The eight coffins were placed alongside of it. At the end of the pit a small tent had been erected.

The small group of city officials huddled in the rain in front of the tent. Commissioner Drummond expressed the sorrow of the city. Then Monsignor William J. White read the Catholic service over one body. Father William B. Farrell made the responses.

The Episcopal burial service was read by the Reverend Dr. William B. Morrison over another body.

After that, Rabbi Judah L. Magnus spoke ancient Hebrew words.

Architect Flanagan had drawn up a plan for the burial plot that would make future identifications possible. He stood over the pit and pointed out each place as the caskets were lowered:

"No. 46

No. 50

No. 61

No. 95

No. 103

No. 115

No. 127"

The eighth casket had neither name nor number. "It contained the dismembered fragments picked up at the fire by the police and unclaimed," said the Herald.

Leon Stein, The Triangle Fire (New York: A Carroll & Graf/Quicksilver Book, 1962), pp. 154-155.

The Kheel Center would like to thank Mrs. Miriam Stein and Barbara Ismail for granting permission to use selections from the late Leon Stein's book.