Rose shook her head and glanced at her m_West Side Studies: Boyhood and Lawlessness; The Neglected Girl

jigging a dull-looking baby on her lap. At the mention of her son’s

name she raised her great, heavy eyes and spoke to Rose in Italian.

Then she dropped them again and the tears ran quietly down her face.

Tony was the oldest of the family, the only boy, and he had run away

to Florida six weeks before. He had been led to do so by another boy--a

bad boy. The Morellis always explained that it was not Tony’s fault;

he was a good boy but he had got tired of working for the butcher. He

had written them a postal from Jacksonville saying that he was having

a grand time and was stable boy on the race track. But no further word

had come. They did not know where he was. But the mother had not given

up hope that he would come back, though each day she grew thinner and

the heavy marks under her eyes grew darker. She watched on the fire

escape each night, peering down the street for Tony’s familiar figure.

Now, as she wept for him, she drew the baby to her and kissed it

passionately.

The baby was not her own. It was a little Jewish foundling she had

taken from the “Home” to nurse when her last baby died seven months

ago. Four children had died before that when “so leetle.” Over the

mantelpiece hung a large, shiny photograph of the last baby lying

in its casket. The, casket had been very expensive, but it had been

a great comfort to the mother to put so much money into it, quite

unconscious that the living children were paying its heavy price in

lowered health and vitality.

The Morellis’ three rooms had none of the air of prosperity that

characterized the Colletti home. They were bare, and would have

been dingy except for the bright bedspread, the gayly colored wall

decorations, and advertising calendars, pictures of the royal family,

the pope, the saints, and the Holy Virgin. Under this last a candle

burned, an offering for Tony’s return. In the tiny dark box of a room

back of the kitchen a cot and two chairs served Rose and the two

younger girls as sleeping accommodations. A shakedown in the kitchen

had been Tony’s bed. It was still there, unused. No one else would have

thought of sleeping in it. It would have been an acknowledgment that he

might not need it again.

As Rose went on talking of their “trouble” to her friends, they

responded with quick sympathy. They lamented with the Morellis as

sincerely as they had rejoiced with the Colletti family. They felt with

Rose as keenly and genuinely as with Mary and Lucy. Sympathy is the

keynote of the Italian community. It binds together not only members of

the same family but relatives of all degrees, friends, fellow-tenants,

speakers of the same dialect, those from the same Latin town. It

extends to the little foundling, the tiny boarder, whose frequent

presence in the home is such sad evidence of the high infant mortality

in the Italian families. The $10 which the foster mother receives from

the institution as board money does not prevent her from loving her

little nursling with the same passionate abandon with which she loves

her own.

Whether a girl comes from the higher income group like the Collettis,

whose home runs the whole depth of the house and has circulation of

fresh air, or from the group that feels the pressure of bare living in

three choking, dark rooms as do the Morellis, she is touched by the

same deep influence of family bonds and customs. A tying-up of the

individual with the group, an identity of interests with those of one’s

kin--these are the factors which dominate the lives of the family into

which the Italian girl is born and which present a valiant front to the

forces of personal independence that meet her in her American life, at

school, in industry, and in recreation.

The claims of the school weigh little against the claims of the family.

While she is a little girl in the grades, having difficulty perhaps

with her lessons, the disadvantage to her of being “kept out” a few

days does not weigh an instant against some temporary family need in

which she may be of help. Illness, financial loss, trouble of any kind,

not merely in her own home but in that of an aunt or uncle, keep many a

young girl out of school if only to lament with the afflicted.

Let us glance into the Belsito kitchen on a winter evening after

Adelina Belsito has been absent from school for a week. Over at the

school the teacher’s register shows that this last week’s defection is

only the latest of a long series of absences on the part of “Belsito,

Adelina.” On this particular evening a number of friends are collected

in the kitchen; their sympathetic and concerned expressions show that

they are discussing some grave and anxious matter. Presently there

enters upon the scene the school visitor. Will she not be seated and

have a glass of wine and Adelina will tell the long story of the

family’s misfortunes.

Illness, accident, death, and loss of savings have followed each other

in rapid succession, topped now by the burning of a stable and the loss

of Mr. Belsito’s two draft horses, the sole capital of the family.

Angelina tells the story eagerly in great detail, Mrs. Belsito nodding

mournfully at times and adding to her daughter’s account. The father

is absent because he is out looking for more horses. He has borrowed

money from a friend who is “rich” and the family is anxiously waiting

to know his luck. Presently he comes, the children running to him and

clinging to his legs. No, he has not been able to find horses; all cost

too much; there is nothing, nothing to be had. He clasps his head with

his hands and sits with it tragically bowed. Fresh commiseration arises

from the gathering, and animated suggestions are offered.

Adelina must go to work. That is the consensus of opinion. But upon

inquiry, the school visitor learns that Adelina is not yet entitled

to working papers, being only in the fourth grade, although nearly

fifteen. No, she does not like to go to school; she did like it until

a year ago, but lately there has been “so much trouble” that she has

been often absent. Of course she has not gone this week! After her

father’s horses had burned! Adelina lifts surprised, hurt eyes at the

question, though she is not able to explain just what aid she has been

able to give by staying at home. And they have been sending her cards

from the school, the last one demanding that her father come before the

principal and explain her absence. Adelina and her family find this

very hard and unjust “when there is so much trouble.” Besides, the

father could not go; he had to look for horses. The father lifts his

head and speaks to the girl in Italian. Presently she explains, “My

father say he have it in his head what he do for you if you speak to

the principal for me.”

And through the slight service which the “school lady” later rendered,

the Belsitos became her fast friends.

In the Ruletti home down the block there is trouble of another kind.

This time it is the mother’s grief which the daughter shares. Mrs.

Ruletti is a slender, bent little woman in black. She is not over

thirty-three but her deeply lined face looks all of fifty. Just

home from work, she snatches up the baby and kisses it passionately,

murmuring to it in Italian. She weeps as she talks. Lucrezia Ruletti

explains, “They’re going to take it back; they wouldn’t let her keep it

any longer and she feels just like she did when our baby died.”

“Take it back?”

“Oh, yes, to the ‘Home.’ Bennie isn’t our real brother; he’s a

foundling. You see, when the last baby died in the winter my mother

took Bennie from the Home and now we all love him and they want to take

him back.”

Mrs. Ruletti breaks in. “They say to me, ‘You have no milk now, bring

Bennie back.’ But I feed him bread, meat, oh! he can eat soon. I no

want him to go; like loosa my own baby.”

In the Italian household the daughter of fourteen is expected to bear

a full share of the mother’s responsibilities. She keeps the house,

cooks, washes, dresses and disciplines the children. Laura Tuzzoli,

with her old little face and her maternal air, is a not unusual

type. Going to call for the first time I paused before the tenement,

uncertain as to their floor. A group of dark-eyed children around an

ash can nearby watched me curiously. One tiny four-year-old flashed a

quick smile of friendliness and a brilliant glance from her black eyes,

then edged a little away from her companions. Asked where Laura Tuzzoli

lived, she straightened her slight, ragged shoulders and informed me

that she was also a “Tuzzoli.” She slipped her mite of a hand into mine

and led me up the dirty, unsteady stairs to “our house.”

There the fourteen-year-old sister was presiding in the mother’s

absence. She had just begun to bathe the one-year-old baby, having

finished cleaning their three rooms. The windows had been washed as

had the gilt-framed, cracked mirror which hung proudly in the space

between them. On a shelf beneath a picture of the Virgin stood a clean

jelly-glass filled with water on which floated a cork bearing a freshly

lighted candle.

Presently little Lizzie Tuzzoli came in from school carrying her books

and papers for “home work.” Fourteen-year-old Laura put her through a

rapid fire of questions about her behavior and whether she had “made

up” with a certain Mamie. Lizzie suddenly dived into her bag and

produced from it a wonderful pink pencil of the screw variety. Pride of

possession shone in her eyes as she displayed it.

“I got it off Lena Perella,” she announced. Laura seized the pencil,

touched it carefully, then gave Lizzie a sharp look. “Did she _give_ it

to you?” she demanded.

Lizzie squirmed a little. “Yes. She--I found it and didn’t know it

belonged to her, and Carrie Bussi said Lena didn’t want it anyway,

so----”

Laura handed the pencil back with a scorching glance and a dictum whose

tone permitted no rejoinder, “You take that back to school tomorrow and

give it to Lena, _d’ye hear_?” Then she became the gracious hostess

again.

The bond between Zappira Blondi and her mother was of another sort.

When Zappira was twelve years old her father had sailed away to

America leaving his family in the little village near Naples to wait

until he could earn a home for them in the new country. But work was

harder to find than he expected. After a year’s absence he wrote a

letter home filled with discouragement and reporting dreary failure.

Zappira, who was the oldest of the children, shared in her mother’s

keen disappointment. The two put their heads together and laid a plan

whereby they could earn their passage. The mother borrowed a sum of

money sufficient to stock a small store in their village. This she and

Zappira proceeded to conduct so successfully that at the end of the

year the small debt had been repaid and the passage money laid aside.

Their venture had been kept a secret from the father, and when they

were all ready to make the journey they wrote him the good news and

named the date when he should meet them at Ellis Island. Great was the

joy of the family at being together, but hard work still lay ahead of

these brave women. They took two small rooms in Mott Street, and for a

year mother and daughter worked in a factory, eking out a bare living.

The girl was now sixteen, old enough to be married, and though the

family could ill afford to lose her wages her father did not fail in

what he considered his duty. He soon found a husband for her. Although

so young, Zappira had, through years of close partnership with her

mother, already acquired many of the sober qualities of middle age.

The unity of the Italian family has an economic as well as an emotional

basis. Father, mother, and children often form a single industrial

unit. “I works for me fader,” says the urchin whom you meet on the

stairs carrying a pail of coal to a customer. Visit the Sabbio family

and you find Mrs. Sabbio presiding at the bar in a small saloon. In

response to your question whether her husband owns the saloon, she

answers, “Both of us, we work together.”

In the dark, damp little coal and ice cellars, the cluttered tailor

and cobbler shops, the grocery and candy stores, at the fruit stands,

and in the saloons, all members of the family take a hand and help

to bring in the common income. Stroll along Ninth Avenue and you

may see sometimes one member of the family “on the job,” sometimes

another; at busy times, all are there. The mother is almost always

on duty, delegating the housekeeping and tending of babies to the

daughter at home. But very often the baby is also in evidence, and

is unceremoniously dumped from his mother’s or sister’s arms into a

perambulator when attention must be given to a customer.

Similarly, the Italian of this West Side community makes common

financial cause with his relatives and friends in business enterprises.

He is likely to be in partnership with his father-in-law or one of

his numerous brothers or cousins in the ownership of dray-horses, of

a candy or notion store, or a stand. Whenever an Italian begins to

thrive in any kind of joint business one may at once be assured that

his relatives are “in on it.” And one may be equally sure that in times

of hard luck or slack work the temporary deficit of the family will be

met by relatives and friends. This is taken as a matter of course. “In

Italy everybody helps everybody else” is the answer you receive if you

express surprise. If the head of the household falls ill, the neighbors

drop in daily to see how he is, and rarely does one leave without

first slipping into the sick man’s hand a nickel, a dime, or perhaps

a quarter. Not the slightest thought of charity is entailed by the

act, either in the giver’s mind or the receiver’s. It is understood,

however, that the act of kindness will be reciprocated when occasion

arises.

When the social worker visits such a home and notes that the signs of

real want are lacking, in spite of the fact that the sole income is the

$4.00 or $5.00 a week which the daughter earns, the suspicion arises

that these people must have profited in business before the father’s

illness and put by more than they will admit. Then the next-door

neighbor enters, a coin is dropped quite openly on the bedcover, and

the social worker departs with a deeper insight into the ways and

character of the Italian. Small wonder that charitable societies

of this district have comparatively few Italian families in their

charge.[84] So common is the feeling of loyalty and responsibility

among them that it is like the old tribal sense of oneness, an entire

merging of the personal in the group interest, and the group’s bearing

as its own the burden of the individual.

The protection and watchfulness of the family are constantly about

the girl. And the family circle from which surveillance proceeds is

usually intact unless death has entered it. Only in rare cases is a

“broken home” the result of desertion. The Italian does not abandon

his wife and family, nor is his relation to his children that of

breadwinner only. He shares with the mother the intimate care and

close watchfulness over them. It is always “I ask my father” with

these young Italian girls, and in spite of the over-strictness which

so many of them resent and from which they take refuge in deception,

there is between the Italian father and his daughter a close degree of

companionship seldom found in Americans of their position. Perhaps this

is due to the fact that he is more in touch with American life than

the shut-in Italian mother, whose life is almost wholly occupied with

child-bearing and child-burying.

The eagerness of most Italian parents for the arrival of a daughter’s

fourteenth birthday strikes one with no little pathos when one bears

in mind how pitifully small is the equipment of the child at that

age grown up in so restricted an environment. The girl herself is as

eager to go to work as her parents are to have her. She takes it for

granted that she should help in the family income. Carlotta gets a job

not because she feels the need of self-support as an expression of

individuality, of self-dependence, but because she feels so strongly

the sense of family obligation. Lucy Colletti turned her weekly wages

into the more generous family income as readily and unquestioningly as

Rose Morelli gave hers to meet the needs of bare subsistence.

The West Side Carlotta is not a recent immigrant. Her family came

through Ellis Island probably as much as ten years ago,[85] settling

first in one of the lower and more congested districts of New York.

Later they moved up to this district, attracted by reports of cheaper

rents or simply following, as is the Italian way, relatives already

there. Her father is probably a naturalized citizen.

Notwithstanding the exotic community in which the Italian lives and

his loyalty to Latin traditions, ten years of New York are bound to

leave their mark. This is particularly true of the West Side Italians,

so many of whom carry on a petty but independent business. Owning

a fruit stand, a coal cellar, or a trucking business is in itself

evidence of long residence and some Americanization.[86] “The Italian

with the stand--eh, he is well off--long time here,” is a common remark

among his compatriots.

Other signs of long residence on the West Side are the changes in

names. Not only does “Lucrezia” become “Lucy”; “Dominica,” “Minnie”;

“Giovannina,” “Jennie”; “Fortunata,” “Nettie”; “Francesca,” “Fannie”

and so on, but even the family names sometimes suffer a change. The

“Aquinas” become the “Quinns,” the “D’Adamos” become the “Adamses.” The

old names to which still cling some of the grandeur that was Rome are

often gladly exchanged for a genuine West Side cognomen.

Perhaps the chief evidence of Americanization, however, appears when

the daughter of the family begins wage-earning. For this she goes

directly to the factory. She does not join the ranks of the Italian

women who form so large a proportion of the out-workers or home workers

of New York City. Only those who are familiar with the submissive way

in which the Old World Italian women endure industrial exploitation can

understand what a stride toward independence the Italian girl has made

by simply working in a factory instead of at home.

A trade-union organizer and a home-work investigator were recently

discussing the Italian girl of sixteen. The former had found Italian

girls slow to respond to trade organization and was pessimistic about

their economic future. “They will not progress, nor can you blame them

when you think of the history of their women in Italy.” “You forget how

far these Italian girls in the factory have already progressed,” said

the home-work investigator. “The Italian women I know best are doing

tenement house work and earning pitifully low wages because they will

not leave their homes to work in a factory.”

The Italian girl works in the factories nearest home. These on the West

Side happen to be principally candy factories and laundries--such as

Kohlberger’s, where Lucy Colletti worked, and the laundry where Rose

Morelli was employed as a folder. Should the factory move she looks for

another nearby. Evil lies in strange parts. If the neighboring candy

factory overworks its employes, as it usually does during the weeks

before Christmas, requiring night work[87] and Sunday work, the girls

and their families regretfully submit to these weeks of exploitation.

But although economic necessity may force Carlotta into the factory,

it does not make her otherwise more independent of her family. Her

father and mother cling persistently to the old-country custom of close

watchfulness over her. Parental surveillance may be relaxed during

her hours of work, but it is promptly revived when the day’s work is

over. The streets, the dance hall, even the well chaperoned amusement

club are prohibited; nor may she spend her money on dress or choose a

“fellow” for herself. Italian girls have acquired to a less degree than

American girls the habit of spending.

But of course this system breeds an occasional rebel. There was

Filamina Moresco, for instance, whose calm investment of $25 in a

pink party dress, a beaver hat, and a willow plume, was reported as

little less than the act of a brigand. If she had withheld 20 cents

out of her pay envelope from her mother she would probably have been

beaten. As it was, she appropriated $25 and her high-handedness was her

protection. Jennie Polini’s form of rebellion--choosing a “fellow” for

herself and “seeing him on the sly”--was not as successful. The other

girls regarded her conduct with doubt and disapproval, though they

shared all of Jennie’s bitter resentment against the stern discipline

of her parents from whom she was separated by the old abyss between

the generations, widened and deepened by the disparities of the old

world and the new. The pleasures which the Italian parents permit their

daughter are those which she may enjoy in their company. She shares

in the celebration of family events which the church recognizes and

dignifies with a ritual; such as a birth, a death, or a wedding, the

seasons of Christmas and Easter, the saints’ days, and the American

holidays. These latter she interprets in her own way. Angelina Costa

informed her parents on Lincoln’s birthday that the schools were closed

because it was an “American saint’s day.”

The patriarchal festivals of the Italian _contadini_ are reproduced,

however sordidly, in the christening parties, the wedding dances, and

the burial ceremonies of the West Side. To the daughter of fourteen

a wedding party is the summit of bliss. She lives from wedding to

wedding, treasuring memories of the last one or preparing for the next,

until her own turn comes to be the central figure. One cannot fancy

her stealing away to a secret marriage as so many of the West Side

daughters are inclined to do. That would be to miss the most glorious

day of her life.

The “school lady’s” invitation to Angelina Marro’s marriage announced

that the wedding dance would begin at 5 in the afternoon, immediately

after the marriage ceremony. The “West Side Café” had been engaged

for the night’s celebration. Surely a place with so high-sounding

a name must lay claim to considerable pretension! It was with some

disillusionment that the “school lady” entered a small doorway and

groped her way through a narrow, dingy, and perfectly dark passage

toward a tiny slit of light which promised another door in the far

distance. Repeated knocks on the panels below this ray finally caused a

slipping of bolts. A huge black Italian appeared at the opening. Near

him stood a countryman. They were both engaged in getting ready the

refreshments, but they welcomed the intruder. On a big, round table

stood a large tin washtub filled with water for rewashing the beer

mugs after use. Large wooden trays were piled high with a quantity of

sandwiches that one could not believe any crowd, however large, could

consume. An enormous Italian cheese, plates of Italian cakes, and a

number of crates of beer completed the preparation for the feast.

The room may have been 30 by 50 feet; the ceiling was low and the only

means of ventilation were two small windows at one end which opened on

a court. These were tightly closed, with shades and curtains drawn.

Around the walls were benches and chairs. At the end opposite the

windows were the piano and chairs for the musicians. The walls were

decorated with cheap prints, a large color print of George and Martha

Washington being most conspicuous among them. Stretching from the four

corners of the ceiling to the gas chandelier in the middle of the room

were strings of flags, representing all nations, but most of them were

American and Italian.

The bride and groom had not yet arrived, but one of the bridesmaids,

Lucy Colletti, came forward and greeted the visitor cordially. The

bride was having her picture taken, she explained, but would arrive

very soon. The room began to fill up with relatives and friends of the

married pair. There was no dressing room. All the wraps were piled

together on the top of a high narrow wardrobe. One of the men stood on

a chair and threw on top of the fast growing pile the additional coats,

hats, and furs.

Guests of all ages, from grandparents to toddling children, continued

to arrive in parties. Suddenly the outer door opened and the young

bride and groom entered. There were cries of welcome, a burst of

hand-clapping, and a general rush for the pair. The dark, frail little

bride in her elaborate costume looked like a child playing at “dressing

up.” The fine net gown and veil, the white slippers and gloves, must

have meant months of saving and stern denials of necessities. She was

only sixteen, and Nick, who walked beside her bearing his head like

a young prince instead of the young butcher’s helper that he was, had

barely turned nineteen. One could not but reflect that if he had been

living in Gramercy Park instead of on the West Side he might now be

receiving his high school diploma instead of assuming the burden and

responsibility of a family. And the little bride might be heading the

freshman basketball team with years of care-free development ahead of

her, instead of facing the imminent trials of child-bearing with the

probable addition of factory labor.

The wedded pair made their way down the hall to the chairs placed

for them at the end. The fact most striking to the outsider was the

total lack of self-consciousness or awkward embarrassment on the part

of either, young as they were, at being the center of attention, the

object of laughing comments and affectionate raillery from all present.

The bride took her seat behind a table at the end of the room, removed

her flowers and put them in a pitcher of water, and having carefully

arranged her veil was ready to receive her friends. “Come,” said Lucy

Colletti, “we must go up to the bride.” This ceremony over, we stood

back and watched the children scramble wildly for the pennies the men

tossed up. Although the musicians were nearly an hour late, no one

seemed to mind. The children raced and played and rolled on the freshly

waxed floor with fearful results to their clothes.

By the time the music began, the room had grown so crowded that

the dancers were confined to a small circle in the center. As the

evening passed the air became blue with dust and tobacco smoke, and

the physical discomforts of the place increased to the point of

general exhaustion. Yet one could not but take delight in a scene

where enjoyment was so evident and so thoroughly sincere. Every guest

participated; no one was neglected. Grandmothers were led out for a

gay turn by grandsons who cavaliered their little sisters in the next

dance. Fathers and daughters, sons and mothers, made light-hearted

couples. It was a sight never to be seen at an American gathering,

but common enough wherever Italians are assembled for any kind of

celebration or enjoyment. In pleasure, as in work, the family rules.

But weddings and family dances do not come very often, and other

evenings must be spent in the tenement home under strict guardianship

and oversight. Against this strictness of another land are constantly

beating all the new, free customs of America. The conflict begins

as soon as Carlotta gets her working papers and takes her place in

the factory. Inevitably the influences of the new life in which she

spends nine hours of the day begin to tell on her. Each morning and

each evening, as she covers her head with an old crocheted shawl and

walks to and from her factory, she passes the daughters of her Irish

and American neighbors in their smart hats, their cheap waists in

the latest and smartest style, their tinsel ornaments, and their gay

hair-bows. A part of the contents of their pay envelopes goes into the

personal expenses of those girls. Nor do they hurry through the streets

to their homes after working hours, but linger with a boy companion

making “dates” for a “movie” or an “affair.”

Slowly but surely their example is beginning to have its effect on the

docile little Italian whose life has hitherto swung like a pendulum

back and forth between her labors at the factory and the duties and

restraints of home. She begins to long for the same freedom that the

other girls enjoy. But freedom does not mean for her what it means for

the American girl, trained in a different school from the beginning.

She has not the same hard little powers of resistance, nor can she make

the same truculent boast of being able to “take care of herself.” She

is not able to present the same rough and ready front to rowdy good

times.

Free and easy as are the manners of her American sisters, they

usually draw a line, distinct enough from their own point of view, at

“tough” and “fresh.” The Italian girl has no idea of where the line

is, or whether these bold-appearing girls really have any standards

of conduct. _Her_ line, the line her people have drawn for her, is

placed well in front of the commonest enjoyments of the West Side

girl. Once it is broken over by a “lark” with a crowd of boys and

girls, then she is, by her own and her people’s standards, condemned.

Very often, however, she fails to feel the weight of her old friends’

disapprobation as heavily as might be expected because she is still

accepted by the standards of the new country, _her_ country. As long as

she does not overstep its particular line, she is safe. But to her the

American line of conduct is blurred and indistinct. It is determined

by conditions which she does not recognize or understand. The little

tragedies and conflicts of this semi-Americanization are familiar

enough to those who know the Italian girl of some years’ residence.

It is useless to expect that her young, wholesome craving for amusement

will continue to be satisfied in the ways approved by her people. The

irresistible lure of America which has already drawn her parents from

the ancestral plains of Italy continues still to draw her. She must

enter upon her kingdom. But unaccustomed as she is to the newer ways,

the Italian daughter must be taught intelligently to meet American

conditions and trained in the forms of self-protection which they

necessitate. Her parents cannot do this. They have themselves still too

much to learn. But the community to which she has come, bringing her

all--her health, her strength, her industry, and her children--owes it

at least to her to safeguard the innocent joys of her youth.

APPENDIX

APPENDIX A

ECONOMIC CONDITION OF THE FAMILIES

Our 65 girls came from 55 different families. Forty-one of these

families had at some period in their lives been aided, or investigated,

or disciplined by some sort of private philanthropic or protective

agency. Of these, all but one had records with some relief agency. In

a very few cases the Association for Improving the Condition of the

Poor and the Charity Organization Society records show that the family

received no relief, but only visitation and advice. Usually, however,

actual relief was given. Thirty-nine had records in the registration

bureau of the Charity Organization Society. Eleven had Charity

Organization Society records only; 15 had records with the Association

for Improving the Condition of the Poor only; one had been helped only

by the church. Thirteen had records of relief from or intervention by

more than one society; as, the Association for Improving the Condition

of the Poor and the St. Vincent de Paul Society, or the Charity

Organization Society and the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to

Children, or again and again both the Charity Organization Society and

the Association for Improving the Condition of the Poor. One had been

under the care of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children

and the Board of Health.

Often, of course, families such as these must turn to an agency for

help only in time of crisis; and when the crisis is past and the aid

they have received has put them on their feet again, they no longer

need support. Such, at least, is the ideal of “family rehabilitation.”

Of a different sort are the cases of chronic, wasting poverty and

misfortune, which no charitable aid can ever render self-supporting.

These are the poor who are always with us; and it was to this group,

we found, that most of our families belonged. In analyzing the relief

cases, it seemed to us that where a family had been under the care of

an agency for less than two years it could be put in the former group,

where relief was given because of emergencies. Of the 40 cases, 10

were in this class. The other 30 had records for two years or more;

and of these 30 cases, 17 had records for two years and less than six

years, and 13 for six years or more. The average period of intermittent

care for the 30 families whose relief records extended over more

than two years was nine and a half years. The average is startling

enough, but a few cases stand out as more startling than the rest. One

family had applied for aid in 1899 and the case had been “closed” and

re-opened[88] at intervals ever since. One record extended from 1892 to

1908, one from 1895 to 1911. One case had been opened and closed eight

separate times since 1899.

It must be borne in mind that no figures can be given to show the help

these families had received from private sources; clothing from women

for whom the mothers had done day’s work or washing, money for rent or

doctor’s bills from relatives, food from neighbors,--all these things

help stave off the dreaded appeal to “charity.”

We have tried to analyze the immediate causes of need at the time the

family was first referred to the relief society. The first application

is the most significant, for after help has been obtained once, it is

likely to be sought again. Of our 40 relief cases, one family had been

deserted by the chief wage-earner, in five he was dead, and in 34 the

wage-earner was living. Very few of the first applications, therefore,

were due to the death of the father.

The number of children born to the family, whether living or dead,

often determines the extent of its poverty,[89] and contributes to the

necessity for relief. We have estimated, roughly, that three or four

living children was the average for these 40 families at the time of

the first application. In some cases there was only one child, but in

many cases there were six or seven. The records do not tell us how many

had been born, nor how many had died, thus adding their quota to the

family’s share of illness, expense, and sorrow.[90] In the cases that

were opened and closed again and again we find that child after child

was born after the family was far below the line of self-support,--six

or eight or 10 children born into homes that could support in decency

only one or two at most. But “too many children” never appears as the

cause of an application for relief in the records of a charitable

society.

It is true that need is rarely due to any one circumstance. Usually

where one kind of misery exists, other kinds are found also.[91] The

most common causes that the records for this group of 40 show were lack

of work, casual work, illness, or drink; and these were combined and

coupled together in story after story. Taking in each case what seems

to have been the chief immediate cause, though we cannot claim that our

division is strictly accurate, we found that in five cases the need

was due primarily to illness; in three primarily to drink; in 10 the

causes were scattering or could not be ascertained; in 22 the distress

was due most of all to lack of work. Time and again the entry appears:

“The father has been out of work for ten weeks”; or “It is the slack

season in the man’s trade and he has been unable to get a steady job

for three months”; or “The mother has recently been confined and the

father has been out of a job for several weeks and there is no food in

the house.” It is repeated over and over--out of work, out of work, out

of work--till we can only wonder that drink and despair do not more

inevitably accompany the loss of a job. These were the conditions that

brought 40 of our families to the point of seeking relief at various

times in their lives.

It would not be fair to judge the usual standing of our group entirely

by these records of the families which had sought relief. We have

therefore taken a kind of cross section of all the families of our 65

girls to show their earning capacity and general economic status at

the date when our acquaintance with them began. Of these 55 families,

only 21 were normal groups. By this we mean that the father and mother

were both living, that they were together, and that the father was

physically able to be the wage-earner and the mother the housewife. The

other 34 were “broken” families. In 15 the father was dead, in six the

mother was dead, and in three both father and mother were dead. In one

the father had deserted, and in one the mother was in prison. In four

of them there was a stepmother or stepfather. In eight families the

father was incapacitated, either by old age or illness, so that he was

not able to be the chief wage-earner.

In 29 of our 55 families, the mothers were wage-earners.[92] In nine of

these, the father was dead; in six, he was incapacitated; in 14, the

mother worked because the father’s income was not enough to support

the family without her aid. Where the father was dead or disabled the

mother’s work was more constant and regular than where she worked to

supplement the husband’s earnings. Of these 29 mothers, 10 went out for

“day’s work” sometimes only one or two days a week. Ten worked more

regularly, washing or scrubbing several days a week, sewing at home,

and so on. Thirteen were janitresses of the tenements in which they

lived. Payment for this service varies from $3.00 off on a month’s rent

to the whole rent and $1.00 besides, depending on the size of the house

or houses cared for. Four of the janitresses also took in washing or

did other work.

It must be remembered that the very presence of these women on our list

means that they were mothers of adolescent girls and of families of

children averaging about five in number. Considering this we realize

more clearly the truth of their saying, “It’s hard bringin’ children up

in New York.” More than half the mothers of our girls were forced to do

other work than that of caring for a good-sized family.

The explanation of this situation is found in the low-paid unskilled

work done by the girls’ fathers. Of the 40 living fathers and

stepfathers, we can give the occupations of 34.

Teamster 14

Machinist 4

Laborer 3

Dock worker 2

Hotel worker 2

Slaughter-house man 2

Railroad flagman 2

Laundry worker 1

Proprietor of trucking business 1

Street cleaner 1

Peddler 1

Janitor 1

Total 34

Very few of these occupations are what can properly be called skilled

work, many of them are extremely irregular and casual, and many of them

pay less than a living wage.

The housing of these families is such as would be anticipated by

those who know them and the facilities the district offers. There are

very few new-law tenements in this part of New York, and little good

can be said of the best of the old-law houses. Really good housing

is practically unknown. For example, but two of our 55 families had

bathrooms in their apartments. Many apartments contained small toilet

rooms, and other families used toilets in the hall on the same floor.

Some still had only an old-fashioned yard toilet. One house furnished

for its tenants a cellar toilet used also by the men who patronized the

ground floor saloon adjoining it, and this horrible situation made the

children of the house afraid to go to the cellar alone or after dark.

We have housing records for 53 of our 55 families. Thirty of these

lived in apartments containing one or more dark rooms, with no windows

to the outer air, or to anything more than a tiny air-shaft. Of these

30 families, 10 had one dark room, 18 had two dark rooms, one had

three dark rooms, and one had four dark rooms. The number of persons

in household and the number of rooms occupied were as shown in the

following table:

FIFTY-THREE FAMILIES CLASSIFIED ACCORDING TO NUMBER OF PERSONS IN

HOUSEHOLD AND NUMBER OF ROOMS OCCUPIED[a]

=====================+=======================================+=========

| FAMILIES OCCUPYING |

Persons in household +-------+-------+-------+-------+-------+ All

---------------------+-------+-------+-------+-------+-------+---------

Two | 1 | 1 | | | | 2

Three | 1 | | 3 | | | 4

Four | | 2 | 2 | | | 4

Five | 1 | 2 | 4 | 1 | | 8

Six | | 2 | 5 | 2 | 2 | 11

Seven | | 5 | 4 | 2 | | 11

Eight or nine | | 3 | 2 | 2 | 2 | 9

Ten or eleven | | | 1 | 1 | | 2

seventeen | | | | 1 | 1 | 2

---------------------+-------+-------+-------+-------+-------+---------

Total | 3 | 15 | 21 | 9 | 5 | 53

---------------------+-------+-------+-------+-------+-------+---------

[a] Information is not available as to the number of persons in or

number of rooms occupied by two of the 55 households.

In spite of the lack of space, light, and air, and the poor sanitary

conveniences, six of the families in apartments, as shown in the

following table, paid rentals of $20 or over per month, four paid from

$16 to $20, 20 paid from $12 to $16, 17 paid from $8.00 to $12, and

only three paid less than $8.00. One family lived in furnished rooms

for which they paid $3.50 a week; one family owned the house they

lived in; for three we had no records of the amount of rent paid. The

distribution of rentals according to number is shown by the following

table:

FIFTY FAMILIES CLASSIFIED ACCORDING TO NUMBER OF ROOMS OCCUPIED AND

MONTHLY RENTAL PAID[a]

===============+==================================+==========

| FAMILIES PAYING MONTHLY |

| RENTAL OF |

+------+------+------+------+------+ All

Rooms occupied | | $8 | $12 | $16 | | families

| Less | and | and | and | $20 |

| | $12 | $16 | $20 | |

---------------+------+------+------+------+------+---------

Two | | 2 | | | | 2

Three | 2 | 8 | 4 | | | 14

Four | 1 | 7 | 10 | 3 | 1 | 22

Five | | | 5 | 1 | 2 | 8

Six | | | 1 | | 2 | 3

Six and bath | | | | | 1 | 1

---------------+------+------+------+------+------+---------

Total | 3 | 17 | 20 | 4 | 6 | 50

---------------+------+------+------+------+------+---------

[a] This item was not secured for three of the 55 families; one family

owned the house in which they lived, and one lived in furnished rooms,

paying ..50 a week.

Life insurance is almost universal in our district except for families

in the most abject poverty. Often every member is insured, the rate

varying from 5 cents a week for children to 25 cents or more for

adults. One family spent $52 a year for insurance out of a possible

maximum income of $806 for seven persons. Another family of seven spent

$2.40 a week out of an income which probably did not average more than

$20 a week at the most. The benefit seldom does more than cover the

cost of the funeral, and often barely that. The baby may have been

insured for $30 and the undertaker’s bill is likely to be $40 or $50.

One wife received $141 at her husband’s death, and the funeral expenses

were $155, leaving a debt of $14, the cost of an illness, and a family

of children to support. Such a funeral, of course, indicates lack of

judgment on the part of the family, but it must be remembered that from

time out of mind and in all ranks of society, a fine funeral has meant

respect for the dead; and burial in the Potter’s Field is still a sign

of the lowest economic stage to which a man can fall.

Twenty-five of the 55 families, or nearly half, had been in the past,

or were at the time of our investigation, affected by excessive

drinking on the part of one or both parents. Of this we were

sure, either from records of philanthropic agencies or from our

own knowledge. Some of the remaining 30 families had no cases of

alcoholism, but concerning others we were unable to get any definite

information. To summarize: In 25 families either the father or mother,

or both, were subject to excessive drinking; in 13 of these the fathers

drank to excess; in four the mothers drank; in eight of the 25 families

both the father and the mother drank. “Excessive drinking” does not

necessarily mean habitual drunkenness. Such cases are not frequent. On

the other hand, it never means merely taking either an occasional or

a regular drink, unless this is done to excess. It means at the least

drinking of the sort which makes the mother unable to keep her home

together without interference from the Society for the Prevention of

Cruelty to Children or makes it impossible for the father to “hold

down” a job. In all 25 of these cases, the families had relief records.

To sum up, we have divided our families on a basis of prosperity and

poverty as Miss Breckinridge and Miss Abbott have done in their book on

The Delinquent Child and the Home.[93]

Class I represents the very poor, the “submerged tenth,”--the broken

family, ill fed, ill clad, ill supported, aided by charity month after

month and year after year, sick, wretched, truly poverty stricken. To

this class we have judged that 20 of our 55 families, containing 25 of

our 65 girls, belonged.

Class II are the poor, those with whom it is a constant struggle to

make ends meet, who seldom have comfort but who seldom are on the

verge of starvation. In this class we have placed 23 of our families,

containing 28 of our girls.

Class III represents the fairly comfortable, those whose chief

wage-earner has steady work or in which the children are contributing a

fair share of the income; where food is sufficient and overcrowding is

not very great. In this class were 11 of our families, with 11 of our

girls.

Class IV is the very comfortable group, those who can afford a little

more than the minimum of education and of care for their children, and

who are never likely to know pressing want. In this class there was one

family, containing one of our girls. This child’s grandfather was an

early district settler, an Irish builder and contractor. When he died

he left to the mother three or four tenement houses, in one of which

the family were living, while the rents from the others rendered them,

according to local standards, positively affluent.

Thus, to separate poverty from prosperity, roughly though it must be,

only 12 of the 55 families could be called comfortable. The remaining

43 families were poor, some of them wretchedly poor. This condition,

whatever may have been its cause, was the dominating factor in the

lives of all but 12 of our 65 girls.

APPENDIX B

SCHOOL ATTENDANCE DATA

To obtain facts regarding school attendance in the West Side district

studied, a special tabulation for four public schools was made in the

Bureau of Social Research from schedules obtained for the Committee on

School Inquiry of the Board of Estimate and Apportionment of New York

City. Public Schools Nos. 17, 32, 51, and 127 were the schools included

in the study. The records covered a period of five months, from

February 1, 1911, to June 30, 1911, or practically 100 school days.

In the following table is shown the relation between the absences of

boys and the absences of girls in the four schools mentioned, and the

relation between absences in these schools and absences in the entire

city.

It will be noted that attendance is poorer for the girls than for the

boys. The difference in the average number of days of absence is about

2.6 days, or approximately 2.6 per cent of the term in question.

Attendance is better in the city as a whole than in the four schools

in the district. But 63.5 per cent of the children in the schools in

the district were absent less than eleven days, as compared with 67.3

per cent of those in the city as a whole. The proportion of children in

each of the successive groups representing longer periods of absence is

smaller for the city as a whole than for the four schools. A comparison

of the

ABSENCES OF PUPILS IN REGULAR CLASSES, IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS NOS. 17, 32,

51 AND 127, AND IN ALL PUBLIC SCHOOLS. NEW YORK CITY, FEBRUARY 1, 1911,

TO JUNE 30, 1911

=======================+===========================================================+====================

| PUPILS IN SCHOOLS NOS. 17, 32, 51 | PUPILS IN ALL

| AND 127[a] | PUBLIC SCHOOLS[b]

+-------------------+-------------------+-------------------+---------+----------

+--------+----------+--------+----------+--------+----------+ Number | Per cent

-----------------------+--------+----------+--------+----------+--------+----------+---------+----------

| | | | | | | |

Less than 11 | 1,829 | 67.4 | 1,173 | 58.3 | 3,002 | 63.5 | 382,406 | 67.3

11 and less than 21 | 447 | 16.4 | 408 | 20.3 | 855 | 18.1 | 97,512 | 17.1

21 and less than 31 | 182 | 6.7 | 182 | 9.0 | 364 | 7.7 | 39,391 | 6.9

31 and less than 41 | 92 | 3.4 | 99 | 4.9 | 191 | 4.0 | 19,297 | 3.4

41 and over | 166 | 6.1 | 151 | 7.5 | 317 | 6.7 | 30,006 | 5.3

-----------------------+--------+----------+--------+----------+--------+----------+---------+----------

Total | 2,716 | 100.0 | 2,013 | 100.0 | 4,729 | 100.0 | 568,612 | 100.0

=======================+========+==========+========+==========+========+==========+=========+==========

absence | 11.4 | 14.0 | 12.5 | |

-----------------------+-------------------+-------------------+-------------------+---------+----------

[a] Tabulated from schedules obtained for the Committee on School

Inquiry of the Board of Estimate and Apportionment of New York City.

[b] From a report to the Committee on School Inquiry of the Board

of Estimate and Apportionment of New York City, on Promotions and

Non-promotions, and Part Time, by Frank P. Bachman, Ph.D., p. 64.

column for boys with that for girls shows that the low attendance in

the schools studied is due to the relatively low attendance among

the girls. While the percentages relating to the boys correspond

almost exactly to those relating to all the children of the city, the

percentages for the girls indicate a materially lower proportion of

attendance.

INDEX

ABBOTT, EDITH: The Delinquent Child and the Home, cited, 130

ADENOIDS: found on examination of girls, 83

ADOLESCENCE: and poverty, 32;

and self-assertion, 48

AGNES: the friend of Annie Brink, 31

ALCOHOLISM: in families of girls, 129. See also _Drinking_

AMELIA: the case of, 52

AMERICAN FEMALE GUARDIAN SOCIETY SCHOOL ON WEST SIDE, 33

AMERICANIZATION AMONG ITALIANS: signs of, 110, 117

ANGELINA AND NICK, 96, 97, 113-115

ANTHONY, KATHARINE: Mothers Who Must Earn, cited, 23

ASSOCIATION FOR IMPROVING THE CONDITION OF THE POOR: families of

girls having records with, 121

ATTINGER, MRS.: on her Lizzie’s marriage, 73, 74

AYRES, LEONARD P.: Laggards in Our Schools, cited, 37

“BABY’S” HOUSEKEEPING, 35, 36

BACHMAN, FRANK P.: Report on Promotions and Non-Promotions, etc., cited, 133

BASKET-WEAVING: as a club occupation, 4

BEDFORD REFORMATORY: superintendent of, quoted, 15;

treatment of girls at, 18

BELSITO, ADELINA: and her absence from school, 102, 103

BIRTH RATE AND DEATH RATE OF WEST SIDE, 23

BLONDI, ZAPPIRA: and her mother, 105, 106

BOYS: and the girls’ club, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9;

idleness among, more common than among girls, 51;

school attendance of, compared with that of girls, 132-134

BRASS WORK: as a club occupation, 4

BRECKINRIDGE, S. P.: The Delinquent Child and the Home, cited, 130

BRINK, ANNIE: story of, 30, 31

BUREAU OF SOCIAL RESEARCH: study of school attendance by, 132

BURIAL EXPENSES, 23, 129

BUSINESS ENTERPRISES: conducted by Italian families, 106, 107

CARNEY, MAY: case of, 85, 86, 87

CARNEY, MRS.: on May’s marriage, 86

CARTWRIGHT, O. G.: Historical Survey of the West Side, cited, 76

CHARITABLE AID: received by families of girls, 122, 123, 124. See

also _Relief Records_

CHARITABLE SOCIETIES: Italians and the, 108

CHARITY AMONG ITALIANS, 107, 108

CHARITY ORGANIZATION SOCIETY: families of girls having records with, 121

CHILDHOOD: influence of tenement life on, 81, 82

CHILDREN: school attendance of, 132-134

CHILDREN’S AID SOCIETY SCHOOL on West Side, 33

CHRIST PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH: supervisor from, in charge of playground

at club, 3

CHURCH: aid to family given by, 121

CLEARY AND MAGGIE: affair between, 79, 80

CLEAVER AND DORAN, 9, 10

CLINIC, PSYCHOLOGICAL: examination of girls in a, 85

CLINIC, WEEKLY: at club, 84

CLIQUES AMONG GIRLS, 60, 61

CLOTHES, PRETTY: the girls’ longing for, 59, 60

CLOTHING, PROTECTIVE: the girls’ lack of, 60

CLUB HOUSE AT 471 TENTH AVENUE: aim and origin of, 1, 2;

equipment and activities of, 3, 4;

only outbreak against a leader at, 10, 11;

razed to give place to a factory, 14;

relations with fellow tenants at, 5, 6;

relations with neighborhood boys at, 6, 7, 8, 9;

total number of girls studied at, 14;

West Side girls, how far represented at, 15, 16

CLUBS AND SETTLEMENTS: use of, by West Side girls, 67

COLLETTI FAMILY: and their home, 98

COLLETTI, LUCY: references to, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 109, 111, 114

COLLETTI, MARY: references to, 95, 96, 98, 99

CONJUNCTIVITIS: case of, discovered in physical examination of girls, 83

COOKING: as a club occupation, 4

COOK STOVE: essential to equipment of girls’ club, 4

COSTA, ANGELINA: and her interpretation of Lincoln’s birthday, 112

CRAVEN, MAMIE: case of, 60

CULL, CHRISTINA: truancy of, 38, 39, 40

DALEY’S MARRIAGE TO MAY CARNEY, 86, 87

DANCE HALLS: and the occasional ball, 69;

campaign for control of, 16, 17;

etiquette of, 69, 70;

grades of, 70

DANCES, PUBLIC: conduct of, 71

DANCING: enthusiasm of girls for, 4, 67

DARK ROOMS IN HOMES OF GIRLS, 24, 127

DAVIS, DR. KATHERINE B.: quoted, 15

DEATH RATES. See _Mortality_

DEFECTS, PHYSICAL: found in club girls, 83

DENLEY, CLARA: and her faction, 12

DEPARTMENT STORES: preference of some girls for, 43. See also _Stores_

DERKS, EMMA: and her raffle, 32

DEVINE, EDWARD T.: Misery and Its Causes, cited, 124

DISTEL, MR.: as a neighbor, 6

DONOVAN, SISSY: first job of, 41, 42

DORAN’S TALE OF A GANG, 9

DRAKE, CARRIE: case of, 88-90

DRINK: girl does not take to, 32;

mothers who take to, 27, 29

DRINKING: excessive, on the part of parents of girls, 29, 129, 130

DRUNKENNESS: habitual, distinguished from “excessive drinking,” 129

EARNINGS OF GIRLS, 47

EAST SIDE: West Side compared with, as to stability of population, 75

ECONOMIC CONDITION: of the families of girls, 121-131

EDUCATION, COMPULSORY: period of, 33

EGAN, BARBARA, AND LOUISA STORM: quarrel between, 12

EIGHTH AVENUE: as a promenade, 66

ELEVENTH AVENUE: case of one family on, 24-26

EMPLOYMENT CERTIFICATE. See _Working Papers_

ESTIMATE AND APPORTIONMENT BOARD’S Committee of School Inquiry, 132, 133

EXAMINATION, PHYSICAL: of club girls, 82, 83, 84

EYES OF GIRLS: not cared for, 83

FACTORIES: and the West Side girl, 43, 44;

wages of the girl in, 47;

work of Italian girls in, 110, 111

FAMILIES: large, on West Side, 22

FAMILIES OF GIRLS: classified on basis of prosperity or poverty, 130, 131;

economic conditions of, 121-131;

housing of, 126, 127, 128;

how constituted, 125;

which received charitable aid, study of, 122, 123, 124

FAMILY, LIMITATION OF SIZE OF: almost unknown on West Side, 23

FAMILY PROTECTION: general breakdown of, on West Side, 75-94;

maintained in the case of the Italian girl, 108, 111, 112

FATHERS: occupations of, 126

FESTIVALS, ITALIAN, 112

FLEMING, SADIE, AND MAGGIE TRACY, 12, 13

FULLER, CARRIE: case of, 84, 85

FUNERAL EXPENSES: in families of girls, 129

GALAXY MOVING PICTURE SHOW, 67

GANG SPIRIT OF TENTH AVENUE, 13

GANGS. See _Boys_; _Gopher Gang_; _“Hell’s Kitchen” Gang_

GAS PLANTS: odors of, on West Side, 75

GATE: as a bone of contention, 3, 4

“GENTLEMAN FRIENDS” AND “LADY FRIENDS,” 61

GIBSON, ANNIE: truancy of, 37, 38

GIRLS, WEST SIDE: aim and methods of study, 1;

attitude of, toward assumption of family burdens, 49, 50, 51;

demand for “good times” by, 51;

difficulty of knowing, in their own homes, 2;

education, in neighborhood immorality, 75-81, 87-93;

familiarity with poverty and its effect, 21, 29, 32;

fondness for dancing and music, 4, 67, 68, 69;

homes and street corners as places of meeting with boy friends, 61-63;

how far represented in clubs, 15, 16;

idealism of, 68;

immoderate pace of living among, 83;

marriage, how regarded by, 73, 74;

occupations of, 43, 44, 45, 46;

physical inheritance and health of, 82, 83, 84, 85;

relations with their families compared with those of boys, 19;

relations with their mothers often strained, 53, 54, 55;

school attendance of, compared with that of boys, 132-134;

schooling of, 33-42;

social relations among, contrasted with those among boys, 60, 61;

surest way to help, 94;

wages earned by, amount and disposition of, 47, 48. See also _Italian Girl_

GOPHER GANG: gossip about, 6, 9, 10, 13, 76

“GOPHERETTES”: proposed as name of club, 10

HANNICK AND MAGGIE, 62

HEALTH, BOARD OF: family under care of, 121

HEALTH OF CLUB GIRLS, 82, 83, 84, 85

“HELL’S KITCHEN” GANG: and its influence, 76

HICKMAN’S MOVING PICTURE SHOW, 67

HOLIDAYS, AMERICAN: among the Italians, 112

HOME: men friends of girls not welcomed in the, 61, 62;

need of strengthening of best elements in the, 94;

wage-earning and new relations at, 43-56

HOME WORK: Italian girls not engaged in, 110

HOME-WORK INVESTIGATOR: quoted, on Italian girls, 111

HOUSING OF FAMILIES OF GIRLS, 24, 126, 127, 128

HYLAND, WINNIE, AND CARRIE DRAKE, 88

IDEALISM AMONG GIRLS, 67

ILLEGITIMATE BIRTHS: common on West Side, 79

IMMORALITY AMONG GIRLS, 79, 80, 85-93

INDUSTRIAL HISTORIES OF GIRLS, 45, 46, 47

INSURANCE, LIFE: in families of girls, 23, 128, 129

ITALIAN GIRL: claims of school upon, 102, 103;

eagerness of, to go to work, 109;

family’s protection of, 108;

kinds of work done by, 110, 111;

pleasures prohibited and permitted to, 111, 112;

semi-Americanization of, 116, 117;

separate study made of, 1, 95

ITALIANS OF WEST SIDE: Americanization of names among, 110;

characteristics of family life among, 106, 107, 108, 111, 112;

eagerness of parents for arrival of fourteenth birthday of daughter, 109;

festivals among, 112;

length of residence in United States, 109;

mutual helpfulness and charity among, 107, 108;

occupations of, 106, 107, 110;

sympathy the keynote of the community, 101;

wedding parties among, 113-116

JENNIE. See _Polini, Jennie_

JOSIE: and the dance halls, 72

KERSEY, MRS., AND “BABY,” 35

KNEELAND, GEORGE J.: Commercialized Prostitution in New York City,

quoted, 71

KOHLBERGER’S CANDY FACTORY, 95

“LADY FRIEND”: significance of title, 61

“LAGGARDS” AMONG GIRLS, 37

LANGAN, FATHER: aid of, enlisted by Mrs. Mullarkey, 91;

and the “Gophers,” 12, 13

LARKEY, EMMA: schooling of, 36

LAWLESSNESS OF WEST SIDE, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 13, 75, 76

LINCOLN’S BIRTHDAY: as interpreted by Angelina Costa, 112

LONDON SLUMS: compared with Middle West Side District, 82

LOUISA: the case of, 54, 55

MCCLUSKY FAMILY: as co-tenants of the club, 4, 5, 6

MCKEEVERS: Thanksgiving party at home of, 64-66

MAGGIE: the case of, 62

MARTHA AND SARAH: trachoma cases, 83, 84

MATTIE AND CLEARY: affair between, 79, 80

MARRIAGE: as an adventure, 73;

following irregular relationship, how regarded, 79;

found to be a sobering event, 74;

of May Carney, 85-87. See also _Weddings_

MARRO, ANGELINA: her wedding party, 113-116. See also _Angelina and Nick_

MAYHEW, FANNY: and the “Gopherettes,” 10

MEEHAN, JENNIE: marriage of, 80

MEEHAN, MRS.: on the size of her family, 22

MENTAL ABILITY: of girls tested in a psychological clinic, 85

MERCER, ADDIE: and her father, 80, 81

MIDDLE WEST SIDE. See _West Side_

MISERY AND ITS CAUSES: in families of girls, 124

MONEY: importance of control of, to working girls, 59

MORAL CONDITIONS ON MIDDLE WEST SIDE, 77-81

MORESCO, FILAMINA: an Italian rebel, 112

MORELLI, ROSE: and her family, 99, 100, 101, 111

MORTALITY AMONG CHILDREN ON MIDDLE WEST SIDE, 23

MOTHER: and daughter, strained relations between, 53;

as the mainstay of the family, 26

MOTHERS OF GIRLS: wage-earning, 125;

who take to drink, 27, 29

MOVING PICTURE SHOWS, 66, 67

MULLARKEY, MRS.: and her search for Fannie, 90-92

MULLENS, FANNY: and her reason for leaving the Excelsior Laundry, 46

MURPHY, MRS.: and her daughter Katie, 2

MUSIC: appeal of, to girl, 67. See also _Songs, Popular_

NAMES: changes in, among Italians of West Side, 110

NEW MACHIAVELLI, THE: quotation from, 66

NICK AND ANGELINA, 96, 97, 114

“NICKEL DUMP,” 72. See also _Moving Picture Shows_

O’BRIEN, JULIA: and the young woman from the ranks, 11

O’BRIEN, “TOOTSIE”: and her first job, 44

O’CALLAHAN, MRS.: her tale of the Gophers, 13

OCCUPATIONS: of girls studied, 44, 45;

of fathers of girls, 126;

of mothers of girls, 125;

Of West Side Italians, 106, 107, 110

PARENTAL SURVEILLANCE OVER ITALIAN GIRLS, 111. See also _Italian Girl_

PARENTS: hostility of, toward men friends of girls, 62;

excessive drinking on the part of, 29, 129, 130

PATSY: the case of, 92

PAY ENVELOPE: family customs regarding, 47, 48, 49

PETIE’S MOTHER DISPOSSESSED, 27, 28

PHILANTHROPIC AGENCY: families of girls having records with some, 121.

See also _Relief Records; Charitable Aid_

PHYSICAL INHERITANCE: and condition of girls, 82, 83, 84, 85

PIANO: essential to equipment of girls’ club, 4

PLAY: the will to, 57-74

PLAYGROUND IN BACK YARD OF CLUB HOUSE, 3

POLINI, JENNIE: and her choice of a fellow, 96, 97, 99, 112

POPULATION OF MIDDLE WEST SIDE: more stable than that of East Side, 75

POTTER’S FIELD: burial in, how regarded, 129

POVERTY: in families of girls, 20-32, 130, 131

PRECOCIOUS DEVELOPMENT OF GIRLS, 93

PROSPERITY: families of girls classified by degree of, 130, 131

PROSTITUTION: case of, among girls known at club, 88

PSYCHOLOGICAL CLINIC: examination of girls in, 85

PUPILS. See _Children_

QUARRELS BETWEEN CLUB MEMBERS, 12

REFORMATORY: as a cure for truancy, 38, 39

REILLY, MAMIE: and her responsibilities, 50, 51

REILLY, MRS.: on births and deaths, 23

RELIEF RECORDS: of families of girls, 20, 121, 122, 123, 124

RENTALS PAID BY FAMILIES OF GIRLS, 24, 128

RETARDATION AMONG GIRLS STUDIED, 36, 37

REYNOLDS, STEPHEN: quoted, 15

ROCHE, JOSEPHINE: author of chapter on the Italian girl, 95

RULETTI, MRS.: and her foster-child, 103, 104

RYAN, MRS.: quoted, 77

SABBIO, MRS.: and the family saloon, 106

SADIE AND PETIE’S MOTHER DISPOSSESSED, 27, 28

ST. VINCENT DE PAUL SOCIETY: families of girls having records with, 121

SALOON, CORNER: and its influence, 81, 82

SARAH AND MAGGIE: trachoma cases, 83, 84

SCHOOL ATTENDANCE ON THE MIDDLE WEST SIDE, 132-134

SCHOOL ENQUIRY, COMMITTEE ON: of Board of Estimate and Apportionment,

132, 133

SCHOOLING, COMPULSORY: period of, 33

SCHOOLS: absence from, among Italians, 102, 103;

choice of, open to West Side girl, 33;

evasions of law by early leaving of, 40, 41, 42;

retardation of girls in, 36, 37;

truancy of girls in, 38, 39, 40;

use of transfers in the, 34, 35, 36

SETTLEMENTS AND CLUBS: use of, by girls, 67

SEWING: as a club occupation, 4

SEXUAL ABUSE: among girls, 84, 85

SHERIDAN, MARTIE: and her machine, 45

SHERIN, NELLIE: and her work, 46

SIPP, MAY: desire for home visit expressed by, 3

SLAUGHTER PENS: odors from, on West Side, 75

SOCIAL RELATIONS: among girls contrasted with those among boys, 60, 61

SOCIETY FOR THE PREVENTION OF CRUELTY TO CHILDREN: families of girls

having records with, 121;

interference of, where mother drinks, 130

SONGS, POPULAR: fondness of girls for, 4. See also _Music_

SPINAL CURVATURE: cases of, discovered on examination of girls, 83

STARK, PAULINE: a “rover,” 45

STERTLE, MAMIE: on going home at night, 77

STEVENS, KITTY: on Jennie Meehan’s marriage, 80

STORES: wages of girls starting in, 47. See also _Department Stores_

STORM, LOUISA, AND BARBARA EGAN: quarrel between, 12

STREET CORNERS: as places of rendezvous, 62, 63

STRUMPF, ANNA, AND MAMIE TAGGART: quarrel between, 12

TAGGART, MAMIE, AND ANNA STRUMPF: quarrel between, 12

TEETH OF GIRLS: neglect of, 83

TENTH AVENUE: gang spirit of, 13

THANKSGIVING PARTY AT THE MCKEEVERS’, 64-66

THROATS OF GIRLS: not cared for, 83

TOILET, OPEN: dangers of, 81

TONSILS, ENLARGED: found on examination of girls, 83

TOOHEY, SADIE: on the restaurant keeper’s past, 78

TRACHOMA: cases of, among the girls, 83, 84

TRACY, MAGGIE: faction headed by, called “tough,” 12, 13

TRADE-UNION ORGANIZER: quoted, on Italian girls, 111

TRANSFER PRIVILEGES IN THE SCHOOLS: use of, 34

TRUANCY AMONG GIRLS, 37, 38, 39

TRUANT OFFICER: and the transfer privilege, 35

TRUANT SCHOOL NEEDED FOR GIRLS, 40

TUBERCULOSIS: cases of, among girls, 84

TUZOLLI, LAURA: as a mother’s helper, 104, 105

UNDERTAKERS’ BILLS, 129

UNITED STATES: length of residence of Italian families in, 109

VAUDEVILLE: popularity of, 67

VENEREAL DISEASE: cases of, among girls, 84;

in Europe, 82

VIOLENCE: tales of, 76. See also _Lawlessness_

VISION, DEFECTIVE: cases of, found on examination of girls, 83

WADE, LIZZIE: on factory work, 43

WAGE-EARNING AND NEW RELATIONS AT HOME, 43-56

WAGES: small on Middle West Side, 22

WAGES OF GIRLS: in Italian families, customs regarding, 109;

who attended club, 47.

Rose shook her head and glanced at her mother who sat monotonously