My sojourn at the Waldoria Hotel was a rather pleasant one in many ways.
I enjoyed the luxury and refinement of the surroundings. The harmonious
music of the orchestras was pleasant to listen to, and the magnificent
paintings and beautiful works of art were pleasing to the eye. I also
took some pleasure in wearing the different suits of fine clothes with
which I had been supplied, and in making my own person appear as well as
possible in the eyes of others. I even enjoyed entering the spacious and
luxurious restaurants and eating sparingly of some of the delicious
viands prepared by the scientific chef. In fact, the many delightful
advantages to be derived from living at the Waldoria directly appealed
to me as being some of the blessings supplied by nature for all human
beings to enjoy.
But still there was a serious drawback to my thorough and absolute
enjoyment of these conditions, when I took into consideration the fact
that I was in no way responsible for their existence. I was accepting
something from the community, but giving nothing in return. I felt that
in living at the Waldoria, and doing no work for the community, I was
like a great sponge soaking up the life-blood of honest toil, and
returning nothing for the sustenance it afforded me. I felt that I
should at least go to work and do something that would help to pay for
my keeping. True it was that I had the money to pay for these things,
but where did the money come from? Where does all money come from? To
have money to pay for things does not mean that one has earned them. So
I decided that I would go to work as soon as possible, and give to the
community an equivalent for the things I enjoyed.
But then, the great difficulty arose when I tried to find something to
do. It made little difference what kind of work I should engage in as
long as it was of a productive nature. But when I went around looking
for employment, I discovered that there was none to be had.
It is certainly a most unnatural system which fails to utilize all the
power at its command for the good of universal production, and it seems
hard to realize that such conditions can exist; but during my wanderings
from street to street, store to store, and factory to factory,
throughout the great commonwealth of New York, I discovered that besides
myself, there were also thousands of other earnest men tramping the
streets, willing, but unable, to find work. At last, however, I was put
in the peculiar position of having to pay to work. One day, after a week
of unsuccessful attempts to obtain employment, I ran across one of the
sub-bosses of the street-cleaning department. Making known my desire to
him, I was amazed when he told me that he would let me work on condition
that I paid him twenty-five dollars for the job and promised to give him
ten per cent. of my wages each month. He informed me that all of the men
under his charge had to do likewise. In fact, he intimated that in order
to hold his own position as sub-boss he had to pay this money to bosses
higher up in the department.
And so in order to feel that I was at least doing something for the
community to earn my right to live, I was forced to pay for the
opportunity and also to aid in keeping alive one of the many systems of
graft, which unnaturally swallows up the results of honest men's labor.
So I began work as a street-sweeper--a position looked upon generally as
one of the lowest in the scale of human employment. Why the man who
sweeps the streets, making clean and wholesome the thoroughfares, which
have to be traveled constantly by the people, and saving the public from
filth and disease, should be looked down upon by the rest of his fellow
beings for doing this great service, seems beyond the limits of sane
reasoning; but such is the case in this world, where money is the god
worshiped by all.
An illustrative incident occurred while I held the unique position of
street-sweeper, and at the same time being a guest at the fashionable
Waldoria Hotel. I had become acquainted with many of the wealthy guests
of the place, who, no doubt, supposing me to be a man of riches, courted
my society to some extent. In fact, I had become rather popular among
the permanent residents. There was one family in particular, a certain
Mrs. Snipe and her two daughters, who took every occasion to pay me
attentions, until one day as I was engaged in my daily work on the
street, some distance from the hotel, I noticed a carriage approaching
which held Mrs. Snipe and her brood. They were all looking straight at
me, but gave no sign of recognition as they passed along. That evening,
after I had changed my working clothes, which by the way, resembled the
white duck outfit worn by an African explorer, and, having left them in
the tool-house, I went home and attired myself in evening dress. Again I
met the Snipe family in one of the foyers of the hotel. The old lady,
accompanied by her eligible daughters, approached me and said: "Mr.
Convert, I have something awfully funny to tell you. It is just too
funny to keep to myself. You have a double; we saw him today. Now, don't
get angry when I tell you where we saw him and who he is, but he
resembled you so much that if it were not for the position he occupied I
should have sworn it was you. He was a member of the street-sweeping
brigade, and if you wish to see him just go over to Fifth avenue and
Twenty-sixth street tomorrow and you can see for yourself. There, now,
you are not angry, are you?"
"No," answered I, "the person you refer to I have seen many times. There
is nothing to be angry about. Certainly, not because he holds the
honorable position of cleaning the streets which you have to travel."
"Honorable," retorted Mrs. Snipe; "you must be joking. I cannot
understand how an aristocratic gentleman like yourself would otherwise
make such an absurd remark."
"I am not joking at all," said I; "in my estimation, the street-sweeper
belongs to the most honorable portion of mankind. He is down-trodden by
society now, owing to an unnatural system which permits the strong to
take the largest portion of wealth and rule; but the day will come when
men who sweep the streets or occupy other positions of worth to the
community, will enjoy the same luxuries and surroundings that you and
other non-producers now enjoy. They will live in the palaces now
occupied by the parasites who do no work. Such places as the Waldoria
Hotel will be utilized for their benefit, and those who do not work,
those who claim the right to live without labor, will be thrown out
entirely."
"Why, Mr. Convert, what do you mean by talking in such a beastly way? If
you are so fond of those vulgar street-sweepers, why don't you become
one of them?"
"I have," I answered. "The man you saw today sweeping the streets was
none other than myself, and I am proud of it."
"You are either joking or else you have gone out of your mind," said
Mrs. Snipe with a look of disgust. But upon my reiteration that I was
really the man she saw, both she and her daughters abruptly left my
presence and never looked at me afterwards. They no doubt communicated
the text of our conversation to the different people of the hotel, also,
for I discovered later that the other guests with whom I had become
acquainted, not only refused to converse with me, but regarded me as a
sort of curiosity or peculiar freak of nature. They would pass me on the
street, where I was working at different times, in their gorgeous
carriages, and, calling each other's attention would pass jokes at my
expense, and laugh loud and mockingly at me. At first these things
troubled me to some degree, but gradually I gathered courage to bear
their sneers-courage such as I had never experienced before.
I had faced all manner of dangers during my life without fear, but I had
never known the real meaning of courage until I made up my mind to do
right under all conditions, and accept the ridicule of my fellow beings
without resentment. In my humble position I could now appreciate the
philosophy and the true greatness of the Sagewoman's beautiful lessons
of unselfishness. I felt that I was just beginning to get strong-strong
in the grandest attribute a human being can possess-moral courage. The
great Sagewoman's teachings on forbearance were beginning to take root
in my nature. I was learning to understand that I must work and feel for
others, regardless of my own selfish desires.
One day, while I was busily engaged in my daily toil, my attention
became attracted to a big, fashionably dressed man, standing on the
sidewalk near by, calmly smoking a high-priced cigar. He was apparently
about thirty years of age, six feet tall, and weighed over two hundred
pounds. He was beastly in appearance, and looked as if he considered his
own selfish wants as the only things in the world worth attention. He
probably had never done an honest day's labor in his life. A ragged old
man, about sixty years of age, who apparently had given his whole life
to productive toil, but now feeble and half-starved in appearance,
approached and appealed to him for a few cents with which to buy
something to eat. The big fellow roughly told him to go along and not
bother him, and the old man, not doing as he was ordered, the young man
deliberately swung his fist and struck the poor beggar between the eyes,
knocking him senseless to the pavement. For a moment I was dumbfounded
by this exhibition of brutality, and then instantly every drop of blood
in my body was set boiling at the sight. I lost control of myself. My
old-time pugnacious spirit asserted itself, and I sprang forward like a
maddened bull, striking the brute a vicious blow upon the head with my
fist, and sending him sprawling several feet away. As he scrambled to
his feet, in a dazed condition, I rushed forward furiously, with the
intention of felling him to the ground. After allowing him to regain his
feet, I raised my arm to deal a well-directed blow with all my strength,
when something within me suddenly cried out: "Don't strike." "Don't make
a brute of yourself because the other did." "Let the law take its
course." And, as I hesitated momentarily, there passed through my mind
like an electric flash, these words:
"Always consult your soul for advice.
"Do no act your conscience will not sanction."
Then instantly recognizing the mandate I had so faithfully promised the
great Sagewoman to obey, I overcame my rage and allowed my arms to fall
to my sides without striking another blow.
Two policemen hurriedly approached the scene. I stated what had occurred
and requested them to take the bully to jail. To my surprise, however,
at the command of the well-dressed ruffian, who I afterward learned was
a wealthy financier, both myself and the beggar were taken to the
station-house. I was fined ten dollars, and the poor old man was
sentenced to jail for thirty days.
While I knew that in this case the law of justice had been misapplied in
favor of the cowardly Wretch with money, nevertheless I felt that I had
gained incalculable strength in self-control by not acting contrary to
the warning of my soul and making of myself the same kind of a brute as
the one whom I had intended to injure.