ORGANIZATIONS WITHIN THE SETTLEMENT
The settlement, through its preservation of several of the fine old
houses of the neighborhood, maintains a curious link with what, in this
city of rapid changes, is already a shadowy past. The families of some
of the residents once lived nearby, and recall, when they visit us, the
schools and churches they attended, their dancing classes, and the homes
where they were entertained. One visitor told of the scandal in the best
society, more than half a century ago, at the extravagance of a proud
father, then an occupant of one of the settlement houses, who gave his
young daughter a necklet of pearls on the day of her “coming-out” party.
Old men and women for whom the names of the streets evoke reminiscences
delight to revive the happy memories of their youth and to identify the
few buildings, greatly altered as to their uses, that still remain.
Cherry Street and Cherry Hill, a short distance away, call up traditions
of a great orchard to which we owe their names, its beauty in the
blossoming time, the quaint, clean houses, each in its garden, all the
pleasant, comfortable life of a bygone time. There is nothing pleasant or
comfortable about Cherry Street to-day. Legends of the daring deeds of
the Cherry Hill gang lend a dubious glamour to some parts of it, but for
the rest it is dingy and dull.
* * * * *
We met Lena in one of the dull houses where we had been called because of
her illness. The family were attractive Russians of the blond type, and
the patient herself was very beautiful, her exceeding pallor giving her
an almost ethereal look. The rooms were as bare as the traditional poor
man’s home of the story-books, but the mother had hidden the degradation
of the broken couch with a clean linen sheet, relic of her bridal outfit.
[Illustration: HERE AND THERE ARE STILL FOUND REMINDERS OF OLD NEW YORK]
After convalescence Lena was glad to accept employment and resume her
share of the family burden. One day she rushed in from the tailor’s shop
during working hours, and, literally upon her knees, begged for other
work. She could no longer endure the obscene language of her employer,
which she felt was directed especially to her. The story to experienced
ears signaled danger, but to extricate her without destruction of the
pride which repelled financial aid was not simple. Readjustments had to
be made to give her a belated training that would fit her for employment
outside the ranks of the unskilled. Fortunately, the parents needed
little stimulus to comprehend the humiliation to their daughter, and they
readily agreed to the postponement of help from her, although they were
at a low tide of income.
The very coarseness of this kind of attack upon a girl’s sensibilities
I have learned in the course of years, makes it easier to combat than
the subtle and less tangible suggestions that mislead and then betray.
Sometimes these are inherent in the work itself.
A girl leading an immoral life was once sent to me for possible help. She
called in the evening, and we sat together on the pleasant back porch
adjoining my sitting-room. Here the shrill noises of the street came but
faintly, and the quiet and privacy helped to create an atmosphere that
led easily to confidence.
It was long past midnight when we separated. The picture of the wretched
home that she had presented,—its congestion, the slovenly housekeeping,
the demanding infant, the ill-prepared food snatched from the stove by
the members of the family as they returned from work,—I knew it only too
well. The girl herself, refined in speech and pretty, slept in a bed with
three others. She had gone to work when she was eleven, and later became
a demonstrator in a department store, where the display of expensive
finery on the counters and its easy purchase by luxurious women had
evidently played a part in her moral deterioration. Her most conscious
desire was for silk underwear; at least it was the only one she seemed
able to formulate! And this trivial desire, infinitely pathetic in its
disclosure, told her story. As I stood at the front door after bidding
her good-night, and watched her down the street, it did not seem possible
that so frail a creature could summon up the heroism necessary to rise
above the demoralization of the home to which she was returning and the
kind of work open to her.
During that summer she came each day to the settlement for instruction
in English, preliminary to a training in telegraphy, for which she had
expressed a preference. Nothing in her conduct during that time could
have been criticised, but subsequent chapters in her career have shown
that she was unable to overcome the inclinations that were the evil
legacy of her mode of life.
The menace to the morals of youth is not confined to the pretty,
poor young girl. The lad also is exposed. I could wish there were
more sympathy with the very young men who at times are trapped into
immorality by means not so very different, except in degree, from those
that imperil the girl. The careless way in which boys are intrusted with
money by employers has tempted many who are not naturally thievish. I
have known dishonesty of this kind on the part of boys who never in after
life repeated the offense.
An instance of grave misbehavior of another character was once brought
to me by our own young men, three of whom called upon me, evidently in
painful embarrassment. After struggling to bring their courage to the
speaking point, they told me that L⸺ was leading an immoral life, and
they were sure that if I knew it I would not allow him to dance with the
girls. They had been considering for some time whether or not I should
be informed. Heartily disliking the task, one of the young men had
consulted his mother and she had made it plain that it was my right to
know. Fortunately the district attorney then in office had from time to
time invoked the co-operation of the settlement in problems that could
not be met by a prosecutor. A telephone message to him brought the needed
aid with dispatch. When all the facts were known, I felt that the young
man had been snared exactly as had been the young girl who was with him.
Both were victims of the wretched creature whose exile from New York
the district attorney insisted upon. The three had met in a dance-hall,
widely advertised and popular among young people.
The inquiry of the famous Committee of Fifteen, as New Yorkers know, was
given its first impetus by the action of a group of young men of our
neighborhood, already distinguished for the ethical stand they had taken
on social matters, and every one of them members for many years of clubs
in another settlement and our own. They comprehended the hideous cost of
the red-light district and resented its existence in their neighborhood,
where not even the children escaped knowledge of its evils.
Although in the twenty-one years of the organized life of the settlement
no girl or young woman identified with us has “gone wrong” in the usual
understanding of that term, we have been so little conscious of working
definitely for this end that my attention was drawn to the fact only when
a woman distinguished for her work among girls made the statement that
never in the Night Court or institutions for delinquents had she found a
girl who had “belonged” to our settlement.[7]
I record this bit of testimony with some hesitation, as it does not seem
right to make it matter for marvel or congratulation. One does not expect
a mother to be surprised or gratified that her daughters are virtuous;
and it would be a grave injustice to the girls of character and lofty
ideals who through the years have been connected with the settlement if
we assumed the credit for their fine qualities.
But as in ordinary families there are diversities of character, of
strength, and of weakness, so in a large community family, if I may so
define the relationship of the settlement membership, these diversities
are more strongly marked; and it is a gratification that we are often
able to give to young girls—frail, ignorant, unequipped for the struggle
into which they are so early plunged—some of the protection that under
other circumstances would be provided by their families and social
environment.
All classes show occasional instances of girls who “go wrong.” The
commonly accepted theory that the direct incentive is a mercenary one is
not borne out by our experience. The thousands of poor young girls we
have known, into whose minds the thought of wrong-doing of this kind has
never entered, testify against it.
However, a low family income means a poor home, underfeeding,
congestion, lack of privacy, and lack of proper safeguards against the
emotional crises of adolescence for both boys and girls. Exhaustion
following excessive or monotonous toil weakens moral and physical
resistance; and as a result of the inadequate provision for wholesome,
inexpensive recreation, pleasures are secured at great risk.
In the summer of 1912 a notorious gambler was murdered in New York,
and the whole country was shocked by the disclosure of the existence
of groups of young men organized for crime and designated as “gunmen.”
There is not space here for a discussion of this tragic result of street
life. It is probable that the four young men who were executed for
the murder were led astray, in the first place, by their craving for
adventure. They were found to have been the tools of a powerful police
officer, and it was generally believed that they were mentally defective,
and were thus made more readily the dupes of an imposing personality.
They had not suffered from extreme poverty, nor had they been without
religious instruction. Two of them, in fact, came from homes of orthodox
strictness; but it was plain from their histories that there had been no
adjustment of environment to meet their needs. There was no evidence that
they had at any time come in contact with people or institutions that
recognized the social impulses of youth.
[Illustration]
At the time of the murder I was in the mountains recovering from an
illness. The letters I received, following the disclosure of the
existence of the “gunmen,” particularly those from young men, carried a
peculiar appeal. Our own club members urged the need of the settlement’s
extending protection to greater numbers of boys. Some of the young men
wrote frankly of perils from which they had barely escaped and of which
I had had no knowledge. They all laid stress upon the importance of
_preventing_ disaster by the provision of wholesome recreation which, as
one correspondent wrote, “should have excitement also.” Their belief in
the efficacy of club control is firmly fixed. A few evenings ago one of
the young men of the settlement conversant with conditions, speaking to
a new resident, defined a “gang” as “a club gone wrong.”
[Illustration]
Mothers from time to time come to the Henry Street house for help to
rescue their erring sons. They come secretly, fearing to have their sons
or the police trace disclosures to them. A poolroom on a nearby street,
said to have been, at one time, a “hang-out” of the gunmen, and its lure
evidently enhanced by that fact, was reported to us as “suspicious.”
The police and a society organized to suppress such places told me that
the evidence they could secure was insufficient to warrant hope of
conviction. Mothers who suspected that stolen property was taken there,
made alert by anxiety for their sons, furnished me with evidence that
warranted insistence on my part that the Police Commissioner order the
place closed.
Formal meetings with parents to consider matters affecting their children
are a fixed part of the settlement programme, and the problems of
adolescence are freely and frankly discussed. An experienced and humane
judge, addressing one such meeting, spoke simply and directly of the
young people who were brought before him charged with crime, showing his
understanding of the causes that led to it and his sympathy with the
offenders as well as with their harassed parents. He begged for a revival
of the old homely virtues and for the strengthening of family ties. A
mother in the group rose and confessed her helplessness. She reminded
the judge of the difficulty of keeping young people under observation
and guarding them from the temptations of street life when the mothers,
like herself, went out to work. Ordinary boys and girls, she thought,
could not resist these temptations unaided; and speaking of her own boy,
who had been brought before him, she summed up her understanding of the
situation in the words: “It’s not that my son is bad; it’s just that he’s
not a hero.”
* * * * *
I do not know who originated the idea of a “club” as a means of guidance
and instruction for the young. Our inducement to organize socially
came from a group of small boys in the summer of 1895, our first in the
Henry Street house. We had already acquired a large circle of juvenile
friends, and it soon became evident that definite hours must be set aside
for meeting different groups if our time was not to be dissipated in
fragmentary visits. When these boys of eleven and twelve years of age,
who had not, up to that time, given any evidence of partiality for our
society, called to ask if they could see me some time when I “wasn’t
busy,” I made an appointment with them for the next Saturday evening,
whereupon the club was organized.
[Illustration]
It is still in existence with practically the original membership; and
the relationship of the members of this first group to the settlement and
to me personally has been of priceless value. Many of its members have
for years been club leaders. They contribute generously to the settlement
and in a variety of ways enter into its life and responsibilities.
Clubs formed since then, for all ages and almost all nationalities, have
proved to be of great value in affording opportunity for fellowship, and,
during the susceptible years, in aiding the formation of character; and
the continuity of the relationship has made possible an interchange of
knowledge and experience of great advantage to those brought together.
The training of club leaders is as essential as the guidance of the club
members. Brilliant personalities are attracted to the settlement, but
it can use to good purpose the moderate talents and abilities of more
ordinary people whose good-will and interest are otherwise apt to be
wasted because they find no expression for them.
Given sincerity, and that vague but essential quality called personality,
in the leaders, we do not care very much what the programme of a club may
be. I have never known a club leader possessing these qualifications who
did not get out of the experience as much as it was possible to give, if
not more. An interest in basic social problems develops naturally out of
the club relationship. Housing conditions, immigration, unemployment,
minimum wage, political control, labor unions, are no longer remote and
academic. They are subjects of immediate concern because of their vital
importance to the new circle of friends.
[Illustration: A Settlement Interior.]
The leaders of the clubs meet regularly for inspiration and guidance.
Their conferences might be likened to serious faculty meetings, only here
the social aspects of life and individual problems are discussed. We ask
them to bear in mind the necessity of encouraging the altruistic impulses
inherent in normal human kind, but, like other faculties, needing to be
exercised. Where the material needs challenge the sympathies one must
be reminded that “where there is no vision the people perish.” In our
neighborhood there are traditions among the people that readily lend
themselves to the reaffirmation of this message.
[Illustration: ESTHER]
The girls’ and children’s department has long had the inspiration of a
gifted young woman who, though a non-resident, has contributed in equal
measure with those who have found it possible to detach themselves
sufficiently from their family obligations to reside in the settlement.
Among the leaders are young men and women who themselves have been
members of the clubs, some of them now occupying positions of trust and
authority in the city.
The classes have more definite educational programmes, but in the
settlement they are interrelated with the clubs and made to harmonize
with their purpose. For children attending school the manual training is
planned to demonstrate the value of new experiments or to supplement the
instruction the school system affords. The art classes are limited and
informal, and without studio equipment as yet, but interested teachers
have given their time to students who show inclination or ability,
and effort is made to bring out not conventional, imitative work, but
the power to see and to portray honestly the things about us. All the
settlement family felt that for this reason, if for no other, it was
fitting to have the story of “The House on Henry Street” illustrated by
one who had found his art expression there.
* * * * *
The dramatic instinct is very strong in the Jewish child, and musical
gifts are not uncommon. With encouragement a high degree of talent is
often developed. Perhaps the most impressive evidence of this has been
given in the cycle of Hebrew ritual festivals, poetical interpretations
of the ceremonies cherished by the Henry Street neighborhood. The
value of these is not limited to the educational effect upon the young
people. They interpret anew to the community the rich inheritance of
our neighbors, and the parents of those who participate give touching
evidence of their appreciation.
[Illustration]
When a beautiful pageant based on the incident of Miriam and her maidens
was in rehearsal an intractable small boy was dismissed from the cast. In
the evening his father, a printer, called and expressed the hope that
if his son’s behavior was not unforgivable we would take him back. He
wished the boy might carry through life the memory of having had a part
in something as beautiful as this festival. After a performance a woman
who had suffered bitterly in her Russian home blocked for a moment the
outgoing crowd at the door while she stopped to say how beautiful she
thought it, adding with deep feeling, “I thank most for showing respect
to our religion.”
The dramatic club has attempted serious work, and “The Shepherd,” by
Olive Tilford Dargan, and Galsworthy’s “Silver Box” were two of their
performances given at Clinton Hall that, in the judgment of the critical,
reached a high level of excellence.
[Illustration: THE NEIGHBORHOOD PLAYHOUSE]
The Neighborhood Playhouse, opened in February, 1915, is the outcome
of the work of the festival and dramatic groups of the Henry Street
Settlement. For nine years gifted leaders have devoted themselves to
this interest, and the building of the well-appointed little theater
was necessary for the further development of the work. In addition to
the education incident to performing parts in good plays under cultured
instructors, and the music, poetry, and dance of the festival classes,
the playhouse offers training in the various arts and trades connected
with stage production. Practically all the costumes, settings, and
properties used in the settlement performances have been made in the
classes and workshops.
[Illustration]
“Jephthah’s Daughter,” a festival, opened the playhouse. We were pleased
to believe that the performance gained in significance because the music,
the dance, and the color were a reminder of the dower brought to New York
by the stranger. Seventy-eight young people were in the cast, and many
more had a share in the production. Children belonging to the youngest
clubs in the settlement pulled the threads to make the fringes; designers
and makers of costumes, craftsmen, composers, painters and musicians,
seamstresses, directors, and producers, all contributed in varying
degrees, showing a community of interest, service, and enthusiasm only
possible when the purpose lies outside the materialist’s world.
[Illustration: From “Jephthah’s Daughter.”]
It is our hope that the playhouse, identified with the neighborhood,
may recapture and hold something of the poetry and idealism that belong
to its people and open the door of opportunity for messages in drama
and picture and song and story. In its first brief season, beside
the productions of the groups for whose development the theater was
constructed, there have been special performances for the children at
which famous story-tellers have appeared. Important anniversaries have
been impressively celebrated. Ellen Terry, of imperishable charm, gave
Shakespearean readings on the poet’s birthday, and Sarah Cowell Le Moyne
gave the readings from Browning on his day. Ibsen and Shaw and Dunsany
have been interpreted, and distinguished professionals have found
pleasure in acting before audiences at once critical and appreciative.
[Illustration]