SOCIAL FORCES
It would be impossible to give adequate presentation of those forces
termed social which have hold upon our neighborhood.
People with an ephemeral interest in the social order and some who
are only seeking new thrills are prone to look upon the East Side as
presenting a picturesque and alluring field for experimentation, and
they are, at times, responsible for the confused conception of the
neighborhood in the public mind.
The poor and the unemployed, the sick, the helpless, and the bewildered,
unable to articulate their woes, are with us in great numbers.
These, however, comprise only a part of our diverse, cosmopolitan
population. There are many men and women living on the East Side who
give keen scrutiny to measures for social amelioration. They are
likely to appreciate the sincerity of messages whether these relate to
living conditions, to the drama, or to music. Not only the East Side
“intellectuals,” but the alert proletariat, may furnish propagandists of
important social reforms.
The contrast between the character of the religious influences of the
remoter past, or even of twenty or thirty years ago, in our part of the
city, with those of the present day, is marked in the church edifices
themselves.
Across from the settlement’s main houses on Henry Street stands All
Saints’, with its slave gallery, calling up a picture of the rich and
fashionable congregation of long ago. For years after their removal
to other parts of the city, sentiment for the place, focusing on the
stately, young-minded, octogenarian clergyman who remained behind,
occasionally brought old members back, but now he too is gone, and the
services echo to empty pews. The Floating Church, moored to its dock
nearby, was removed but yesterday. Mariners’ Temple and the Church of the
Sea and Land still stand, and suggest an invitation to the seafaring man
to worship in Henry Street.
[Illustration: “All Saints’,” on Henry Street.]
Occasionally a zealot seeks to rekindle in the churches of our
neighborhood the fire that once brightened their altars, and social
workers hailed one as “comrade” who ventured to bring the infamy of the
red-light district to the knowledge of his bishop and the city. That
bishop, humane and socially minded, came down for a short time to live
among us, and in the evenings when he crossed the crowded street to call
or to dine with us he dwelt upon the pleasure he had in learning to know
the self-respect and dignity of his East Side parishioners. He spoke
with gratification of the fact that during his stay downtown no begging
letters had come to him from the neighborhood, nor had anyone belonging
to it taken advantage of his presence to ask for personal favors. The
neighborhood took his presence quite simply, regretting, with him, the
spectacular featuring of his visit by the newspapers. Indeed, the only
cynical comment that came to my ears was from a young radical, who,
hearing of the bishop’s tribute, said: “That’s nothing new. It’s only new
to a bishop.”
In the Roman Catholic churches the change is most marked by the dwindling
of the large Irish congregations and the coming of the Italians. Patron
saints’ days are celebrated with pomp and elaborate decoration. Arches
of light festoon the streets, altars are erected on the sidewalk, and
the image of the saint is enshrined on the church facade high above the
passer-by. Threading in and out of the throngs are picturesquely shawled
women with lovely babes in arms, fakirs and beggars, venders offering for
sale rosaries, candles, and holy pictures. Mulberry, Elizabeth and even
Goerck Streets’ sordid ugliness is then transformed for the time, and a
clew is given to the old-world influence of the Church through drama.
* * * * *
The change from the Russian pale where the rabbi’s control is both
civil and spiritual to a new world of complex religious and political
authority, or lack of authority, accentuates the difficulties of
readjustment for the pious Jew. The Talmudic students, cherished in the
old country and held aloof from all questions of economic needs because
of their learning and piety, find themselves without anchor in the new
environment and precipitated into entirely new valuations of worth and
strength.
Freedom and opportunity for the young make costly demands upon the
bewildered elders, who cling tenaciously to their ancient religious
observances. The synagogues are everywhere—imposing or shabby-looking
buildings—and the _chevras_, sometimes occupying only a small room where
the prescribed number meet for daily prayer. Often through the windows
of a dilapidated house the swaying figures of the devout may be seen
with prayer-shawl and phylactery and eyes turned to the East. At high
festivals every pew and bench are occupied and additional halls are
rented where services are held for those men, women, and young people
who, indifferent at other times, then meet and pray together.
But though the religious life is abundantly in evidence through the
synagogues and the _Talmud-Torah_ schools[15] and the _Chedorim_, where
the boys, confined for many hours, study Hebrew and receive religious
instruction, and although the _Barmitzvah_, or confirmation of the son
at thirteen, is still an impressive ceremony and the occasion of family
rejoicing, there is lament on the part of the pious that the house of
worship and the ritualistic ceremonial of the Jewish faith have lost
their hold upon the spiritual life of the younger generation.
For them new appeals take the place of the old religious commands. The
modern public-spirited rabbi offers his pulpit for the presentation
of current social problems. Zionism with its appeal for a spiritual
nationalism, socialism with its call to economic salvation, the extension
of democracy through the enfranchisement of women, the plea for service
to humanity through social work, stir the younger generation and give
expression to a religious spirit.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE SYNAGOGUES ARE EVERYWHERE—IMPOSING OR SHABBY-LOOKING
BUILDINGS]
Settlements suffer at times from the criticism of those who sincerely
believe that, without definite religious propaganda, their full measure
of usefulness cannot be attained. It has seemed to us that something
fundamental in the structure of the settlement itself would be lost
were our policy altered. All creeds have a common basis for fellowship,
and their adherents may work together for humanity with mutual respect
and esteem for the conviction of each when these are not brought into
controversy. Protestants, Catholics, Jews, an occasional Buddhist, and
those who can claim no creed have lived and served together in the
Henry Street house contented and happy, with no attempt to impose their
theological convictions upon one another or upon the members of the clubs
and classes who come in confidence to us.
* * * * *
During any election campaign the swarming, gesticulating, serious-looking
street crowds of our neighborhood are multiplied and intensified.
Orators, not a few small boys among them, appear on nearly every street
corner, and an observer might almost measure the forces that influence
the people by the number and character of the orators, the appeals upon
which they base their hope of approval at the polls, and the reaction of
the crowds that surround them.
Pleas supported by reasonable show of argument are likely to find
intelligent response, although, as is but natural, the judgment of a
temperamental people is at times not clearly defined. During the recent
almost riotous support of a Governor who had been impeached (it was
generally believed at the behest of an irritated “boss” to whom he
had refused obedience) many New Yorkers who had come to count upon the
East Side for insight and understanding were perplexed at what seemed
hero-worship of a man against whom charges of misappropriation of funds
had been sustained. Those who knew the people discerned an emotional
desire for justice mingled with some gratitude to the man who, while in
Congress, had kept faith with his constituents on matters vital to them.
Stopping at a sidewalk stand on Second Avenue, I asked the owner what it
was all about. “Oh,” said he, “Sulzer ain’t being punished now for bein’
bad. Murphy’s hittin’ him for the good he done.”
[Illustration]
Our first realization of the dominating influence of political control
upon the individual and collective life of the neighborhood came,
naturally enough, through the gossip of our new acquaintances when we
came to live downtown, and we were not long oblivious to the power
invested in quite ordinary men whom we met.
Two distinguished English visitors to America, keen students and
historians of social movements, expressed a desire to learn of the
methods of Tammany Hall from someone in its inner councils. A luncheon
with a well-known and continuous officeholder was arranged by a mutual
friend. When my interest was first aroused in the political life of the
city this man’s position in the party had been cited as an example of
the astuteness of the “Boss.” He had revolted against certain conditions
and had shown remarkable ability in building up an opposition within the
party. Ever after he had enjoyed unchallenged some high-salaried office.
Under the genial influence of our host, and perhaps because he felt
secure with the English guests, the “Judge” (he had at one time presided
in an inferior court) talked freely of the details about which they
were curious,—how the organization tested the loyalty of its members
and increased their power and prestige as their record warranted it,
giving, incidentally, an interesting glimpse of the human elements in the
great political machine. His own success as judge he attributed to the
fact that he had used common sense where his highly educated colleagues
would have used textbooks, and with keen appreciation of the humor of
the situation he told how, when he was sworn in, a distinguished jurist
said he had come to his court “to see Judge ⸺ dispense with justice.”
He defended the logic, from the “Boss’s” point of view, of efficiently
administering such patronage as was available, and made much of the
kindness to the poor that was possible because of the district control.
Comparing their own with what he supposed to be my attitude to the poor,
he added with a smile of comprehension, “It’s the same thing, only _we_
keep books.”
A political organization watchful to capture personal loyalty makes
dramatic appeal, the potency of which cannot be ignored. The speedy
release of young offenders from jail was, years ago, the most impressive
demonstration of beneficent influence, and it was whispered that district
leaders were notified by the police of arrests, that they might have
an opportunity to get the young men out of trouble. Certain it is that
several times when anxious relatives rushed to us for help we found that
the leader had been as promptly notified as the families themselves.
So much genuine kindness is entwined with the administration of this
district control that one can well comprehend the loyalty that it wins;
and it is not the poor, jobless man who, at election times, remembers
favors of whom we are critical.
Opposed to the solidarity of the long dominant party are the other party
organizations and numerous cliques of radicals, independents, and
reformers. These, when the offenses of the party in power become most
flagrant, unite, and New York is temporarily freed from “boss” rule, to
enjoy a respite of “reform administration.” Into such “moral campaigns”
the House on Henry Street has always entered, and sometimes it has helped
to initiate them, though steadily refusing to be brought officially into
a political party or faction. Indeed, it would be impossible to range
residents or club members under one political banner. As is natural in so
large a group, nearly every shade of political faith is represented.
A large proportion of the young people who come to the settlements are
attracted to the independent political movements, and are likely to
respond to appeals to their civic conscience. While serving on a State
Commission I heard an upstate colleague repeat the rumor that Governor
Hughes, then a candidate for re-election, was to be knifed by his
party. We had seen in our section of the city no active campaign on his
behalf. Posters, pictures, and flattering references were conspicuously
absent. Governor Hughes had made a profound impression upon all but the
advocates of rigid party control because of his high-minded integrity
and emancipation from “practical” political methods. I telephoned two
or three of our young men that the time seemed ripe for some action in
our neighborhood. In an incredibly short time a small group of Democrats,
Republicans, and Socialists gathered in the sitting-room of the Henry
Street house, and within twenty-four hours an Independent League was
formed to bring the Governor’s candidacy before the neighborhood.
Financial and moral support came from other friends, and before the end
of the week he addressed in Clinton Hall an enthusiastic mass-meeting
organized by this league without help from the members of his own
political organization.
* * * * *
The sporadic attempts of good citizens to organize for reform have, I am
sure, given practical politicians food for merriment. One election night,
dispirited because of the defeat of an upright and able man, I was about
to enter the settlement when one of the district leaders said: “Your
friends don’t play the game intelligently. You telephone them _to-night_
to begin to organize if they want to beat us next election. You got to
begin early and stick to it.”
However, every sincere reform campaign is valuable because of its
immediate and far-reaching educational effect, even when the candidates
fail of election. It is gratifying to those who are socially interested
to watch the evolution of political platforms. Every party now inserts
human welfare planks and pledges devotion to measures that in the days
of our initiation were regarded as dreams and ridiculed as beyond the
realm of practicality. Settlements have increasing authority because
of the persistency of their interest in social welfare measures. They
accumulate in their daily routine significant facts obtainable in no
other way. Governors and legislators listen, and sooner or later act on
the representations of responsible advocates whose facts are current
and trustworthy. The experience of the social worker is often utilized
by the state. At the twentieth anniversary of our settlement the Mayor
drew public attention to the fact that no less than five important city
departments were intrusted to men and one woman who were qualified for
public duty by administration of or long-continued association with the
settlements.
Soon after our removal to Henry Street in 1895 messengers from the
“Association,” the important political club of the district, brought
lanterns and flags with which we were requested to decorate in honor of
a clambake to be given the next day. The event had been glaringly and
expensively advertised for some time. The marchers were to pass our house
in the morning and on their return in the evening. The young men glowed
with the excitement of their recital, and I can still see the blank
look of non-comprehension that passed over their faces when I tried to
soften refusal by explaining—lamely, I fear—our reasons for avoiding the
implications of participation. The courteous district leader of the other
great party was equally at sea when, a short time after, he brought flags
and decorations for their more humble celebration and met with the same
refusal. The immediate conclusion appeared to be that we were enemies or
“reformers,” and the charge was held against us.
* * * * *
The gay and spirited clambake parade, with its bands and flying banners,
the shooting rockets and loud applause of the friends of the marchers,
had passed by when we were drawn to the windows to gaze upon another
procession. Straggling, unkempt, dispirited-looking marchers returned
our scrutiny and held aloft a banner bearing the legend “Socialist Labor
Party,” the portrait of a man, and beneath it the name “Daniel De Leon.”
It was our first intimation of the socialist movement in America, and
students of its history will be able to identify this leader and recall
the pioneer part he played in its early phases, his alliance with the
once-powerful Knights of Labor, and the progress and decline of his
society now overshadowed by the present Socialist Party.[16]
Meeting a neighbor on the Bowery one day about two years later, he
stopped to explain that he was on his way to an interesting performance,
and invited me to accompany him. Together we walked along until we
reached the Thalia Theater, famous under its old name of the Bowery in
the annals of the American stage. In this theater Charlotte Cushman
made her first appearance in New York, and here the elder Booth, Lester
Wallack, and other great players delighted the theatergoers of their day.
Venders of suspenders, hot sausages, and plaster statuettes surrounded
the building, and placards on the Greek columns advertised the event as
“The Spoken Newspaper.” A huge audience was listening to editorials and
special articles read by the authors themselves, and the atmosphere was
charged with intense purpose. Acquaintances gathered quickly, and eagerly
explained to me that members of labor organizations and “intellectuals”
of the neighborhood had united for the purpose of publishing a newspaper
for socialist propaganda and to help the cause of the working classes.
They had little money; in fact, were in debt. The men had contributed
from their scanty wages; those who possessed watches had pawned them,
and they were using this medium (“The Spoken Newspaper”) to raise money
to pay the printer and other clamorous creditors, a charge of ten cents
being made for admission to the theater. A charter had been obtained
under the name of “The Forward Association,” but I was made to understand
that this was not a stock corporation and was not organized for profit.
The genuinely social purpose of the organization held the men together
during the lean years that were to follow. Finally, in 1908, the
Association became self-supporting, and in 1911 the charter was amended
to meet the enormously extended field. The Forward Association now
publishes a daily paper in Yiddish, with a regular circulation of
177,000, and a monthly periodical, and holds property estimated to be
worth half a million dollars. From its funds it has aided struggling
propagandist newspapers and has given help to labor organizations.
The hope of a more equal distribution of wealth bites early into the
consciousness of the proletariat. Even the children, who cannot be
excluded from any discussion in a tenement home, have opinions on the
subject. Happening one day upon a club of youngsters, I interrupted
a fiery debate on socialism. Its twelve-year-old defender presented
his argument in this fashion: “You see, gentlemen, it’s this way: The
millionaires sit round the table eating sponge-cake and the bakers are
down in the cellars baking it. But the day will come,”—and here the
young orator pointed an accusing finger at the universe—“when the bakers
will come up from their cellars and say, ‘Gentlemen, bake your own
sponge-cake.’”
Mixed with my admiration for the impressive oratory was the guilty
sense that the settlement was probably responsible for the picture of
licentious living manifested by the consumption of sponge-cake,—our most
popular refreshment, with ice cream added on great occasions.
* * * * *
However one may question the party socialists’ claim that an economic
and social millennium is exclusively dependent upon their dominance, few
acquainted with those active in the movement will deny the sincerity of
purpose, the almost religious exaltation that animate great numbers of
the party. The first socialist member from the East, and the second in
the United States, has been elected to Congress from our district; a
man universally esteemed for his probity, with a record of many years’
unselfish devotion to the workingmen’s cause.
A copious literature and widespread propaganda proclaim the willingness
of the American people now to give socialism a hearing. It seems a far
cry from that first unimpressive little parade that drew the settlement
family to the windows twenty years ago.
* * * * *
Years ago the lads in one of the settlement clubs debating the subject of
woman suffrage declared it to be “a well-known fact that when women had
the vote they cut off their hair, they donned men’s attire; their voices
became harsh.”
I cannot say that even to-day the ardent advocates of woman suffrage
come in great numbers from among the male members of the settlement
clubs, but, on the whole, the tendency is to accept women in politics as
a necessary phase of this transitional period and the readjustment of
the old relations. The conviction that the extension of democracy should
include women has found free expression in our part of the city, and Miss
L. L. Dock, a resident of many years, has mobilized Russians, Italians,
Irish, and native-born, all the nationalities of our cosmopolitan
community, for the campaign. When the suffrage parade marched down
Fifth Avenue in 1913, back of the settlement banner, with its symbol of
universal brotherhood, there walked a goodly company carrying flags with
the suffrage demand in ten languages. The cosmopolitanism of our district
was marked by the Sephardic Jewish girl who bore aloft the Turkish
appeal. The Chinese banner was made by a Chinese physician and a Chinese
missionary. There are four American-born Chinese voters in our part of
the city.
[Illustration]
The transition is significant from the position of women among orthodox
Jews to the motherly looking woman who stands on a soap-box at the corner
of Henry Street and makes her appeal for the franchise to a respectful
group of laboring men. The mere fact that this “mother in Israel” is
obliged to work in a factory six days of the week is an argument in
itself, but intelligently and interestingly she develops her plea, and
her appeal to the men’s reason brings sober nods of approval.
The Russian revolution owes much to the valorous women who from the
formation of the Tschaikowsky circles in the early ’70s have worked as
comrades for the cause, and this is well known to the “intellectuals”
of the East Side. I doubt whether a single man or woman could be found
among them opposed to granting the franchise to women. If they seem
indifferent, it is doubtless because they think it a matter of course and
strenuous effort to secure votes for women unnecessary. From the party
organization men there is not so much encouragement.
[Illustration: A MOTHER IN ISRAEL]
Commissioner of Corrections Katherine Davis testifies that the inmates of
the girls’ reformatory disapprove of women voting as “unladylike,” and
it may surprise those who do not know the thought of these poor women to
learn that they cling to orthodox ideals. I understand that I shocked
one girl, who had been sentenced to the “Island” from the Night Court,
by advocating the appointment of women police. The probation officer who
called upon her asked her opinion of my recommendation, which was then
sufficiently novel to attract newspaper attention. “Oh,” said the girl,
“it’s not right. Woman’s place is the home.”
[Illustration]