YOUTH AND TRADES UNIONS
The portrayal of youth in a neighborhood such as ours cannot be
dissociated from labor conditions, and it was not incongruous that some
of the deeper implications of this problem should have been brought to us
by young women.
In the early nineties nothing in the experience or education of young
people not in labor circles prepared them to understand the movement
among working people for labor organization. Happily for our democracy
and the breadth of our culture, that could not be so sweepingly said
to-day. Schools, colleges, leagues for political education, clubs, and
associations bring this subject now to the attention of pupils and the
public.
[Illustration]
Our neighbors in the Jefferson Street tenement where we at first lived
had, like ourselves, little time for purely social intercourse. With
the large family on the floor below we had established a stairway
acquaintance. We had remarked the tidy appearance of a daughter of
the house, and wondered how, with her long hours of work, she was able
to accomplish it,—for we knew our own struggle to keep up a standard
of beauty and order. We often saw her going out in the evening with
books under her arm, and surmised that she attended night school. She
called one evening, and our pleasure was mingled with consternation to
learn that she wished aid in organizing a trades union. Even the term
was unknown to me. She spoke without bitterness of the troubles of her
shop-mates, and tried to make me see why they thought a union would
bring them relief. It was evident that she came to me because of her
faith that one who spoke English so easily would know how to organize in
the “American” way, and perhaps with a hope that the union might gain
respectability from the alliance. We soon learned that one great obstacle
to the organization of young women in the trades was a fear on their part
that it would be considered “unladylike,” and might even militate against
their marriage.
The next day I managed to find time to visit the library for academic
information on the subject of trades unions. That evening, in a basement
in a nearby street, I listened to the broken English of the cigarmaker
who was trying to help the girls; and it was interesting to find that
what he gave them was neither more nor less than the philosophic argument
of the book I had consulted,—that collective power might be employed to
insure justice for the individual himself powerless.
The girls had real grievances, for which they blamed their forewoman. One
or two who tried to reach the owner of the factory had been dismissed,—at
the instance of the forewoman, they believed. It was determined to send a
committee to present their complaints and to stand by the girls who were
appointed on it.
The union organized that night did not last very long, for the stability
of the personnel of the trades union, particularly among women, cannot
always be reckoned on. People as yet step from class to class in America
with ease as compared to other countries, and this has obvious democratic
advantages; but it is not so fortunate for the trade organizations or
for the standardization of the trade itself, which is thus continually
recruited from the inexperienced. There is a flux among the workers, the
union officials, and the employers themselves. Among women, the more or
less ephemeral character of much of their work, their frequent change of
occupation, and marriage, all operate against permanency. The girl who
knocked at our door that night, to invite us to our first trades union
meeting, is now in a profession.
Later, when we moved to Henry Street, Minnie, who lived in the next
block, enlisted our sympathy in her efforts to organize the girls in her
trade. She based her arguments for shorter hours on their need of time
to acquire knowledge of housekeeping and home-making before marriage and
motherhood came to them, touching instinctively a fundamental argument
against excessive hours for women.
[Illustration: AFTER THE LONG DAY]
We invited Minnie to a conference of philanthropists on methods for
improving the condition of working girls, in order that she might give
her conception of what would be advantageous. Representatives of the
various societies reported on their work: vacations provided, seats in
stores, religious instruction, and so on. “We are the hands of the boss,”
said Minnie when her turn came. “What does he care for us? I say, Let our
hands be for him and our heads for ourselves. We must work for bread now,
but we must think of our future homes. What time has a working girl to
make ready for this? We never see a meal prepared. For all we know, soup
grows on trees.”
[Illustration]
Minnie, who was headlined by the press during a strike as a Joan of Arc
leading militant hosts to battle, had no educational preparation for
leadership; no equipment beyond her sound good sense and her woman’s
subtlety. Speaking once of the difficulty of earning a living without
training, she told me that her mother could do nothing but sell potatoes
from a push-cart in the street, “among those rough people.” Then,
repenting of her harshness, “Of course, some of those people must be
nice, too, but it is hard to find a diamond in the mud.”
Frequent and prolonged conferences at the settlement with Minnie and
Lottie, her equally intelligent companion, and with many others,
inevitably led to some action on our part; and long anticipating the
Women’s Trades Union League, we took the initiative in organizing a union
at the time of a strike in the cloak trade. The eloquence of the girl
leaders, the charm of our back yard as a meeting-place, and possibly our
own conviction that only through organization could wages be raised and
shop conditions improved, finally prevailed, and the union was organized.
One of our residents and a brilliant young Yiddish-speaking neighbor
took upon themselves some of the duties of the walking delegate. When
the strike was settled, and agreements for the season were about to be
signed by the contractors (or middlemen) and the leader of the men’s
organization, I was invited into a smoke-filled room in Walhalla Hall
long after midnight, to be told that the girls were included in the terms
of the contract.
[Illustration]
Though its immediate object was accomplished, this union also proved to
be an ephemeral organization. For years I held the funds, amounting to
sixteen dollars, because the members had scattered and we could never
assemble a quorum to dispose of the money.
When, in 1903, I was asked to participate in the formation of the
National Women’s Trades Union League, I recognized the importance of
the movement in enlisting sympathy and support for organizations among
working women. To my regret I cannot claim to have rendered services of
any value in the development of the League. It was inevitable that its
purpose, as epitomized in its motto—“The Eight-hour Day; A Living Wage;
To Guard the Home”—should draw to it effective participants and develop
strong leaders among working women themselves. Those who are familiar
with factory and shop conditions are convinced that through organization
and not through the appeal to pity can permanent reforms be assured. It
is undoubtedly true that the enforcement of existing laws is in large
measure dependent upon watchful trades unions. The women’s trades union
leagues, national and state, are not only valuable because of support
given to the workers, but because they make it possible for women other
than wage-earners to identify themselves with working people, and thus
give practical expression to their belief that with them and through
them the realization of the ideals of democracy can be advanced.
* * * * *
The imagination of New Yorkers has been fired from time to time by young
working women who have had no little influence in helping to rouse public
interest in labor conditions. My associates and I, in the early years
of the settlement, owed much to a mother and daughter of singularly
lofty mind and character, both working women, who for a time joined the
settlement family. They had been affiliated with labor organizations
almost all their lives. The ardor of the daughter continually prodded
us to action, and the clear-minded, intellectual mother helped us to a
completer realization of the deep-lying causes that had inspired Mazzini
and other great leaders, whose works we were re-reading.
More recently a young capmaker has stimulated recognition of the public’s
responsibility for the well-being of the young worker. Despite her long
hours, she found time to organize a union in her trade, not in a spurt
of enthusiasm, but as a result of a sober realization that women workers
must stand together for themselves and for those who come after them.
The inquiry that followed the disastrous fire in the factory of the
Triangle Waist Company in March, 1911, when one hundred and forty-three
girls were burned, or leaped from windows to their death, disclosed the
fact that the owners of this factory, like many others, kept the doors of
the lofts locked. Hundreds of girls, many stories above the streets, were
thus cut off from access to stairs or fire-escapes because of the fear of
small thefts of material. The girls in this factory had tried, a short
time before the fire, to organize a union to protest against bad shop
conditions and petty tyrannies.
After the tragedy, at a meeting in the Metropolitan Opera House called
together by horrified men and women of the city, this young capmaker
stood at the edge of the great opera-house stage and in a voice hardly
raised, though it reached every person in that vast audience, arraigned
society for regarding human life so cheaply. No one could have been
insensitive to her cry for justice, her anguish over the youth so
ruthlessly destroyed; and there must have been many in that audience
for whom ever after the little, brown-clad figure with the tragic voice
symbolized the factory girl in the lofts high above the streets of an
indifferent metropolis.
Before the fire the “shirt-waist strike” had brought out a wave of
popular sympathy. This was due in part to the youth of a majority of
the workers, to a realization of the heroic sacrifices some of them were
making (an inkling of which got to the public), and in part also to
disapproval of the methods used to break the strike. Fashionable women’s
clubs held meetings to hear the story from the lips of girl strikers
themselves, and women gave voice to their disapproval of judges who
sentenced the young strikers to prison, where they were associated—often
sharing the same cells—with criminals and prostitutes. Little wonder
that women who had never known the bitterness of poverty or oppression
found satisfaction in picketing side by side with the working girls who
were paying the great cost of the strike. Many, among them settlement
residents, readily went bail or paid fines for the girls who were
arrested.
* * * * *
Cruel and dramatic exploitation of workers is in the main a thing of the
past, but the more subtle injuries of modern industry, due to overstrain,
speeding-up, and a minimum of leisure, have only recently attracted
attention. It is barely three years (1912) since the New York Factory Law
was amended to prohibit the employment of girls over sixteen for more
than ten hours in one day or fifty-four hours a week. The legislation
reflected the new compunction of the community concerning these workers,
though unlimited hours are still permitted in stores during the Christmas
season.
[Illustration]
Few people realize what even a ten-hour day means, especially when the
worker lives at a distance from the shop or factory and additional hours
must be spent in going to and from the place of employment. And in New
York travel during the rush hours may mean standing the entire distance.
Working girls, in their own vernacular, have “two jobs.” Those who have
long hours and poor pay must live at the cheapest rate. Often they are
not able to pay for more than part use of a bed, and however generous
may be the provision of working girls’ hotels, the low-paid workers are
not able to avail themselves of these. The girl who receives the least
wage must live down to the bone, cook her own meals, wash and iron her
own shirt-waists, attend to all the necessary details for her home and
person, and this after the long day. The cheapest worker is also likely
to be the overtime worker, a fact that is most obvious to the public at
Christmas time.
The Factory Investigating Commission, appointed after the Triangle fire
to recommend measures for safety, was continued for the purpose of
inquiry into the wages of labor throughout the state and also into the
advisability of establishing a minimum wage rate. The reports of the
commission, the public hearings, and the invaluable contributions to
current periodicals are enlightening the community on the social perils
due to giving a wage less than the necessary cost of decent living; and
as the great majority of employees concerning whom this information has
been gathered are young girls, the appeal to the public is bound to bring
recommendations for safety in this respect. The dullness of life when
pettiest economies must be forever practiced has also been well pictured
in the testimony brought out by the commission.
* * * * *
In these chapters I have sought to portray the youth of our neighborhood
at its more conscious and responsible period, when the age of greatest
incorrigibility (said to be between thirteen and sixteen) has been
passed. Labor discussions and solemn conferences on social problems
may seem an incongruous background for a picture of youth. Happily, its
gayety is not easily suppressed, and comforting reassurance lies in the
fact that recreation has ever for the young its strong and legitimate
appeal; that art and music carry their message, and that the public
conscience which recognizes the requirements of youth is reflected in the
increasing provision for its pleasures. “Wider use of school buildings,”
“recreation directors,” “social centers,” “municipal dances,” are new
terms that have crept into our vocabularies.
[Illustration]
Though the Italians have brought charming _festas_ into our city
streets, it was not until I admired the decorations that enhance the
picturesque streets of Japan, and enjoyed the sight of the gay dancers
on the boulevards of Paris on the day in July when the French celebrate,
that it occurred to me that we might bring color and gayety to the
streets—even the ugly streets—of New York. For years Henry Street has
had its dance on the Fourth of July, and the city and citizens share in
the preparation and expense. The asphalt is put in good condition (once,
for the very special occasion of the settlement’s twentieth birthday,
the city officials hastened a contemplated renewal of the asphalt); the
street-cleaning department gives an extra late-afternoon cleaning and
keeps a white uniformed sweeper on duty during the festivity; the police
department loans the stanchions and the park department the rope; the
Edison Company illuminates with generosity; from the tenements and the
settlement houses hang the flags and the bunting streamers, and the
neighbors—all of us together—pay for the band. Asphalt, when swept and
cleaned, makes an admirable dancing floor, and to this street dance come
all the neighbors and their friends. The children play games to the music
in their roped-off section, the young people dance, and all are merry.
The first year of the experiment the friendly captain of the precinct
asked what protection was needed. We had courage and faith to request
that no officer should be added to the regular man on the beat, and the
good conduct of the five or six thousand who danced or were spectators
entirely justified the faith and the courage.
[Illustration: AN INCIDENT IN THE HISTORICAL PAGEANT ON HENRY STREET,
COMMEMORATING THE TWENTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF THE SETTLEMENT]
The protective legislation, the new terms in our vocabulary, and the
dance on the street are but symbols of the acceptance by the community
of its responsibility for protecting and nurturing its precious
possession,—the youth of the city.