THE WORLD OF THE MAKERS OF LUXURIES
“I would not like to work in a candy store,” said a young lad, “because
then I could not have the fun of buying candy.” A visitor to Atlantic
City stepped into one of the shops to make a purchase. She said to the
little girl in charge, “It must be delightful to be able to live in
Atlantic City and work right here on the boardwalk.” “You may think
so,” replied the girl. “But I guess if you put in all your time in this
store, and had to come to work at eight in the morning and work until
nine at night every day; and all the time saw these thousands of people
passing along outside, going up and down, with nothing to do but just
enjoy themselves, you would not think it is such a snap.” Two boys
were playing the game of “wish.” When the turn of the youngest came,
he said, “I wish that I worked in a chocolate factory, then I could
have all the chocolate I wanted to eat.” When we become acquainted with
the people who are at work producing the luxuries, we find a common
and far-reaching disillusionment. The hardest work in the world is to
work when other people are playing, or work hard ourselves just for the
purpose of giving other people enjoyment. And yet there are literally
hundreds of thousands of people who spend their lives in producing
luxuries.
Oliver Wendell Holmes used to say that if he could just have the
luxuries, he would not care anything about the necessities of life.
This was a whimsical way of stating a fact that is common to all
experience, that is, that life is enriched by the luxuries we enjoy. I
asked a man of the typographical union what he considered the one thing
that had done most for the advancement of printers. He replied, “Pianos
in their parlors.” By this he meant that when hours were decreased and
wages increased, printers began to have something to hope for; and
with a margin of money they bought luxuries, and in the margin of time
enjoyed them. Thus they laid the foundation for future development.
=Luxuries.= What constitutes a luxury? This is a difficult question
to answer. Some people think that it is a luxury to take a bath. In
fact, many of the monastic orders put special virtue on foregoing the
use of soap and water. An old gentleman living in a little town near
Chicago who owned a great deal of the property in the town, fought
every effort to put in water-works and a sewer system. As the climax of
an impassioned speech at a public meeting in which he had denounced the
extravagances of the present time, he said: “These new notions of our
young people are going to ruin us. My daughter made such a fuss that
nine years ago I put a bathtub in our house, but I never use it and I
guess I am about as healthy as any man in town.” One of the religious
sects forbids its members the use of buttons on their clothes, as they
are regarded as useless luxuries. They fasten their clothes together
with hooks and eyes. Cutting the hair, shaving the beard, wearing gold
and silver, adorning the person in any way, all of these things are
considered luxuries by some persons. Luxury is really a thing that we
can get along without. But at best it is a relative term, for what one
person would consider a luxury another would consider a necessity.
=Growth by Wants, Not Needs.= A merchant in Memphis had a carload of
supplies arrive early one Saturday morning. He was very anxious to
get the goods unloaded so that he could release the car. He started
out to get help, but every Negro on the street had some good excuse
why he could not help. Meeting an old fellow on the corner he said to
him, “Look here, Bob, what is the trouble with all these Negroes? Not
one of them wants to work and yet they all seem to have plenty of time
and nothing to do.” “It’s just like this, Boss,” replied old Bob. “All
the worth-while niggers is out working, ’cause you see they’s got to
support their Fords. These here fellers ain’t no good; don’t want cyars
and won’t work nohow when the sun shines on both sides of the street at
de same time.” In this statement we have summed up the philosophy of
all workers. It is only when we desire something better than we have
and are willing to work for the thing desired that we begin to advance.
Luxuries are the things that are not essential for mere existence, but
they are the things that are of infinite value in enriching and adding
to the meaning of life.
=Classes of Luxuries.= Luxuries can be roughly divided into two
classes, those that are harmless and those that are hurtful. The extra
dress, the piece of cake, the sugar in our coffee, the coffee itself,
and in fact a great many of the things we wear, eat, and drink are
luxuries. The line between these things and necessities is such a thin
one that it is hard to know just when a thing ceases to be a necessity
and becomes a luxury. Most things are harmless in and of themselves,
and it must be acknowledged, luxuries have the effect of increasing
the value and meaning of life. There are, however, luxuries such as
beer, wine, whisky, brandy, and other alcoholic stimulants used as
beverages, also tobacco used as snuff, for chewing or for smoking,
which add nothing to life; but on the contrary must be classed with
the habit-forming drugs so injurious to the race. In this chapter we
are considering luxuries from the standpoint of production, and not
the moral value involved in their use. Therefore, we must think of
the workers in the brewery, the cigar and cigaret makers, the makers
of artificial flowers and willow plumes as all belonging to the same
class. They are the ones who are making the things that are not
absolutely necessary for our existence. Were the production of bread to
stop we could not live. Iron, steel, coal, and transportation are all
part and parcel of our very existence, but we could get along very well
if not another artificial flower, cigar, or fancy dress were made.
=The Cigarmakers.= The cigarmakers living in Tampa and Key West form
the most complete compact group of workers to be found anywhere in
the United States who are interested solely in producing luxuries.
Tampa is known as “The city that furnishes the world’s smoke.” Last
year this city shipped (in round numbers) 300,000,000 cigars! Havana
and Key West have always been considered the principal cigar cities,
but the production in these latter places has been declining for a
number of years, while it has been increasing in Tampa. It was a clash
between the Cuban and Spanish workers at Key West which led the first
manufacturer to move from that city and build his factory at Tampa.
To-day there are 15,000 Cuban and Spanish workers employed in Tampa in
making cigars. A person could live in the city, and by restricting his
business to certain districts, from one year’s beginning to the end
would never hear a word spoken in any language except Spanish. The city
is a foreign city, and a city of workers producing a luxury that all
the world demands. Since the time that Columbus sent his men to explore
the island of Cuba in November, 1492, and found the natives “carrying
and smoking firebrands” made from loosely rolled leaves of a weed which
grew extensively on the island, until the present time men everywhere
have found enjoyment and pleasure in the narcotic value of tobacco.
=The Making of a Cigar.= In its manufacture a cigar goes through a
process dependent upon the knowledge and skill gained from years of
practise on the part of the worker. The tobacco that is used in making
the best cigars still comes from the island of Cuba. It is grown very
carefully, cured, baled, and shipped under bond to the United States
government. The bales as they are received at the tobacco factory weigh
from 80 to 120 pounds. The tobacco is of two qualities, that to be used
as a filler (which makes up the body of the cigar), and that which is
known as the wrapper or the outside covering. From the time that the
tobacco begins to grow until the cigars are packed in the boxes ready
for shipment the weed requires special care and attention. As the bales
of tobacco are brought into the factory they have to be piled in a
certain way. Some of them are piled high, some of them low, some on
their sides, and some on their ends; all depending upon the quality and
conditions of the leaves.
The tobacco is cured by a process which adds to its value; and the
curing must be carried on with precision, for a faulty method will
spoil the best tobacco that can be grown. Any one who has visited Tampa
is impressed with the humidity of the atmosphere. The climate of Cuba
is more nearly reproduced there than in any other city in America, and
because of its equable temperature, it being neither too hot nor too
cold, the city has become famous as the manufacturing center for cigars.
The cigarmakers sit at long tables in parallel rows throughout the
room. In one room in a large factory eight hundred workers sit as close
together as possible. The tools of the trade are a flat, broad-bladed
knife, a hard block, a gage, and a rule. This gage is simply a hole
bored through a piece of board and as the worker makes up the cigar,
from time to time he puts it through the hole in the board to see that
it is the proper size and places it against the rule to see that it is
the proper length. Should it be too large it must be rolled tighter,
if too small it must be loosened up a bit. Much depends upon the way
a cigar is rolled. “I learned to make a cigar in three months,” said
a Cuban cigarmaker, “but it took me two years to learn how to put an
end on it.” This is the real test, and until a machine is invented
which can turn this trick, the hand-made cigars, rolled, and finished
according to the old Spanish method, will hold first place.
=The Reader in the Factory.= The Tampa cigarmakers are all either
Spanish or Cuban, and in conversation they gesticulate with their
hands to such an extent that it is impossible for them to talk and work
at the same time. Hence, the manufacturers are very sympathetic with
the old custom of maintaining a reader in the factory. This reader has
a little balcony from which he reads to the employees while they are at
work, making his selections from current magazines, newspapers, novels,
telegrams, dispatches from abroad, and extracts from books on national
history. It is an interesting sight to see a factory of four or five
hundred workers busily engaged in plying their trade, and listening
at the same time to a story read by the paid reader, who, with coat
off and suspenders hanging, gesticulates and shouts at the top of his
voice. One of the readers in a Tampa factory has held his position for
twenty years. He reads daily from the New York _Herald_, translating
the news articles into Spanish as he reads them. The reader is well
paid, for each worker gives him twenty-five cents a week; and it is
reported that some of these men receive as high as $300 a month. The
workers decide what shall be read. Some years ago there was a strike
in one of the factories occasioned by a protest on the part of the
women workers against the reading of an especially vulgar novel. The
management ordered the reading of this novel stopped. The men then laid
down their tools and refused to go back to work until they were assured
that the story would be continued. Among the cigarmakers the tradition
is that the custom of reading grew out of the desire of the early
workers for a more liberal education than was offered by the church and
its schools.
=Wages and Unions.= The wages of the cigarmakers are based on the
piece-work system. An expert may make as high as $35 a week; the
average is a little higher than in other employments using the same
grade of labor. Some years ago, when a bitter strike was conducted
in Tampa, the question of wages was one of the grievances of the men
but was not the real trouble, for the problem in Tampa now as well
as then is racial and psychological rather than economic. The strike
was settled on the basis of an agreement called the “equalization
agreement.” This provided for the appointment of a board to be composed
of three manufacturers and three cigarmakers who would meet regularly,
hear complaints, and make adjustments. Most of the workers belong to
the union, and under this agreement there is a fair degree of peace in
the industry.
One great difficulty is that the workers in the cigar industry carry
into their trade no moral enthusiasm. They are doing something that
is not absolutely requisite for human welfare, and while they make
good money, they have no commanding purpose to impel them to carry on
their work. The people live simple lives for the most part. On Saturday
nights the streets of the city are filled with people, and every one
is in a holiday mood. The majority of the cigar workers in Tampa are
communicants in the Roman Catholic Church and it is the finest building
in the city. It is constructed of marble and decorated with magnificent
windows. The church takes little interest, however, in social or
economic matters. One of the workers said to me the last time I was in
the city, “When the business men forced us back to work, and through
their private army guarded the city with sawed-off shotguns, the
church was back of them. All the priests want is our money.” To the
cigarmakers a church is a church whether it be Catholic or Protestant.
They remember the days in Cuba under the domination of Spain when the
priests held them in a kind of bondage of fear, and made it easy for
the political forces to exploit them. In America they do not intend to
give the church a chance at them.
The Cuban is easily pleased; very emotional, and more inclined to be
fickle than the American or Englishman. A few years ago the butchers of
Tampa raised the price of meat. Just at that time there happened to be
a representative of the Industrial Workers of the World in the city.
He gathered some of the people together in East Tampa, harangued them
regarding their wrongs, and called a second meeting. He aroused so much
enthusiasm that nearly two thousand of the cigar workers quit their
jobs; procured sticks, and bought beefsteaks and stuck them on the end
of the sticks. Carrying these over their shoulders as though they were
banners, the whole mob marched through the streets to the City Hall,
where they demanded of the startled mayor, that he force the butchers
to reduce the price of beef. The mayor gave the necessary order and
the people then dispersed and went quietly back to their homes. Union
organizers complain that it is very difficult to maintain a union
of any strength among the cigar workers in Tampa. “They are very
enthusiastic for a time, but it is difficult for them to persistently
and constantly follow the union rules,” said one of the leaders.
The city of the cigarmakers swarms with children, many of these
youngsters play in the street, and as the climate is warm most of the
year, during the summer they wear very little clothing. Until recently
there was no provision made for organized play among the children of
the city. Even now the provision is totally inadequate.
=The Protestant Churches.= The Protestant churches have attempted to
do what they could among the cigarmakers; but the needs have been so
great and the equipment so inadequate that the best results have not
been secured. In West Tampa there is a very interesting piece of work
being conducted by the Methodist, the Baptist, and the Congregational
churches. One of the churches has a plant consisting of a church, a
school, and a house that is used as a social center for the entire
community. For many years two homes were operated by this church;
one for boys and one for girls. Some seven hundred children attend
the school in connection with the church. The services on Sunday
are in Spanish, and while it has not been possible always to secure
a large attendance from among the people, still there is usually
a representative and interesting group present. A man who served
as pastor of the Cuban church was for a number of years a regular
worker in one of the big cigar factories. This gave him a peculiar
relationship to the community. He was accepted as a friend and equal;
and was listened to with reverence and respect where another man would
not have secured a hearing.
[Illustration:
Photo from National Child Labor Committee.
The workers in the cigar industry carry into their trade no moral
enthusiasm, for they are doing something that is not absolutely
requisite for human welfare.]
=Some Results of the Work.= A little girl in the community where one
of the church homes is situated was arrested for being a vagrant. Her
face was dirty; she was barefooted and wore a torn, buttonless, brown
gingham dress that was positively filthy and which was held in place
by a safety-pin fastened in such a way as to give the whole dress a
weird, elfish look. The child’s picture was taken on the day that
she was arrested and committed to the care of the church. This picture
is a typical portrayal of childish rebellion against life and all
that it holds in store for the human race. Her mother was a worthless
woman, and the child had never known a father. All her life she had
really lived on the streets of the city. Her case was brought before
the Juvenile Court; she was put on probation and given into the care of
the workers in one of the little Protestant churches. She objected to
having her hair combed and refused to wash her face. Those in charge of
the home were almost in despair of being able to do anything with her.
However, they won her confidence by allowing her to go to a party where
they had a phonograph and motion pictures. They told her she could have
all the cake and lemonade she wanted; so once in her life under happier
conditions she had a chance for simple enjoyment and to be her natural
self. From that time on she began to take an interest in herself and
to gain in intelligence. Two years later she had her picture taken
and it was exhibited as the picture of the typical Cuban girl, for
she had developed into a perfect little beauty and showed capability.
This story illustrates better than almost anything else the infinite
possibilities in the Cuban people.
Some one said of the cigarmakers in Tampa that they were not Americans
and never could be, and further stated: “They are interested only in
their theaters, their clubs, their cock-fights, their coffee-houses,
and their gambling rooms.” It is true that they are interested in
these things; because they are by temperament a pleasure-loving,
happy-go-lucky sort of people and these resources are the expression
of their idea of life. If the church would meet the needs of these
people, it must be able to appreciate them, and sympathetically to
interpret life for them. They can all become, as indeed most of them
are now, good American citizens, but they will never be like the
Americans in our Northern cities. We must allow them to develop along
the lines of their own racial interests. How can we ever expect to be
friends with Latin America if we cannot learn how to be good neighbors
to the Latin Americans living in our own land?
=The Challenge of Conditions in the Factories.= The conditions in the
factories are not ideal by any means, nor is the nature of the business
such as to promote the highest type of character. The work is hard,
and it is performed in a heavy atmosphere poisoned with the breath of
many individuals, and vitiated by the odors of human bodies and damp
tobacco. The rooms where cigars are made have to be kept closed to save
the weed; and every window is down, and no matter how hot the weather,
not a breath of fresh air is allowed to enter the place. The atmosphere
is so bad that it gives one a headache even to pass through; imagine
what it would mean to spend your life working in such a place.
Tuberculosis makes deep inroads in the ranks of the workers. Statistics
show that the proportion of mortality among the cigar workers
from tuberculosis of the lungs is higher than in almost any other
occupation. Between the ages of 15 and 24 the proportionate mortality
from tuberculosis is 48.5 per cent. of the total deaths as compared
with 33.8 per cent. for all occupations.[3] The reason for this is that
the workers must sit for long hours at a table in a bad atmosphere and
surrounded by others, many of whom are suffering from tuberculosis.
There are nearly 50,000 members of the union and these men have been
fighting for years for a betterment of conditions. However, just as
in other trades, the employers claim that it is impossible to make
cigars without sacrifice of the working men and women. The workers
have accepted it there, as other workers have accepted it in other
occupations, with the stoic attitude that marks so many of the laborers
of our country.
[3] U. S. Bulletin of Labor, 1917.
One of the most noted social workers in America, a woman with strength
and charm of character, who is a leader in every radical movement,
began her life in a cigar factory. Later on she married a man of
wealth and has lived a life of ease ever since. She says of her early
experiences: “For twelve years I was a cigar worker in Cleveland. I
was ill-nourished and poorly clad. I worked at night as well as by
day to help piece out my family’s existence. I never had anything I
wanted.” This might be said of a great many of the cigar workers and
their families. The only difference would be that she did not tell all
of her story. In addition to the long hours there is an undermining
of the health that goes with it. Now all these people are working for
some one’s pleasure. They are making luxuries. The most radical person
I ever knew in my life was an eighteen-year-old girl whose parents
had lost their money. She was forced to go to work in a cigar factory
when she was twelve years old. She was bitter toward life and had no
faith or confidence in anything or in any person. Said she, “When I
look around and see people who have all the money and all the clothes
and all the good things that I want and can never have, I know that
conditions are unjust and must be changed. I don’t care what it costs;
I am going to do my part in fighting and agitating until there is a
change.” This is an attitude that is now growing very common. There are
deep-seated forces at work perpetuating these ideas. By valuing things
more than men these conditions are made a permanent part of our life.
=Furs.= “Why do you want to wear furs in the summer-time?” I asked a
young lady. It was an extremely hot day and she was wearing a white
dress with very short sleeves and cut low in the neck, but she had a
fox fur around her neck; there was quite a margin between the lower
edge of her fur and the upper edge of her dress. “Why,” she replied,
“I think it is pretty, don’t you?” This fur had come on a long journey
and gone through many processes before it came into her hands. Many
men and women had labored to produce it. The man who had caught the
fox probably had a line of traps stretched over nine or ten miles of
some stream in the northern part of Canada or Alaska. All through the
bitter cold of the winter he had lived alone in a cabin, and day after
day had tramped that line to take out the animals that had been caught.
Bringing them back to his cabin he skinned them; turned the hide over a
piece of board and stood it behind the stove to cure. Later the pelts
were brought out of the wilderness and sold into the hands of a group
of fur workers. They were then more fully cured, and passed on to the
makers of scarfs. All of these workers were producing a luxury.
=The Trappers’ Community.= In one of the regions of the Northwest where
trapping is carried on through the winter there are three little
settlements. There are only three white people and one white family in
two of them, and the third settlement, which is a trading post, has
about half a dozen white families. From the time that the snow falls
in the autumn until late in May of the following spring, no one comes
into these communities except the man carrying the mail who comes
once in about ten days. No one goes out from the community unless it
is absolutely necessary. The only ministers that ever visit there
are those who come in the summer to enjoy the fishing in the near-by
streams. The wife of a trapper in this region said to a minister:
“Our oldest girl is nearly thirteen years old. She has never been to
Sunday-school and never heard a sermon. She has never seen a church
and you are the only preacher to whom she has ever talked. When I was
married fifteen years ago in Missouri and we started for this country,
I had no idea that a girl who had been brought up in the church and was
a teacher in the Sunday-school could live so long in a community where
there is no church or religious service of any kind.” When we learn of
places like this where there are no churches, and then hear of some
small community that has six or eight churches and only about five or
six hundred people, we wonder if there is not a call for a new kind of
missionary effort and zeal. The church is not alone to blame nor is
any one wholly responsible for this condition, and yet we are all to
blame, for if it is necessary that a man should live on the outpost of
civilization it should be made possible for some of the good things of
civilization to be taken to him. In the foreign missionary work we have
crossed oceans, traversed mountains, translated the Bible into new
languages, and made every effort to reach new groups of people. In our
own land we have neglected people just because they seemingly live in a
world outside of our own. While they are producing the things we demand
and use, we have forgotten the men who have brought these things to us.
=The Theater.= People have always been interested in seeing life
presented in a play. The theater has had a large place in the history
of every nation. It has furnished the means of recreation and
amusement, and in a large measure it has been a great educator of the
people. Religion was once taught through the theater. In fact, much
of our church ritual is taken from performances that were meant to
symbolize great facts and emotions of human life. The modern theater
has become highly commercialized, and those who attend the performances
continually demand more magnificent scenery, more elaborate costumes,
and more thrills. What of the performers? Have you ever wondered, as
you looked at the play, just how the people who are taking part would
look if you saw them off the stage? For instance, there is a girl that
is playing the part of an old woman. She is dressed in a plain black,
close-fitting gown, and hobbles across the stage leaning heavily upon a
stick. In actual life she is a young woman under twenty-five years of
age, has bright red hair, a charming smile, a figure that her friends
describe as willowy, and walks with a springy step like that of a high
school girl. Another character in the play is a woman who plays the
part of the vampire. At home surrounded by her three children, she is a
demure, domestic little body.
A few years ago one of our theatrical critics said that a glimpse
behind the scenes would cure almost any girl of the desire to become an
actress. The glamor is all in front of the curtain. Behind the scenes
we come face to face with a hard-working group of men and women who are
doing their best to furnish amusement. One of the leading actresses,
in writing the history of her life, said that the only opportunity for
success on the stage was for the person who comprehends fully that the
theater offers but one thing--a chance for long hours of drudgery and
the uncertain rewards that come from the hands of a fickle public. She
described vividly the actors’ boarding-house, with its narrow cramped
bedrooms; its dimly-lit halls, with the faded and worn carpet; the
smell of cooking that permeated the whole place “like the ghost of a
thousand dead dinners;” the bitter loneliness, the jealousies, the
misunderstandings, and she added, “my whole being revolts against all
the petty details of the life.” Then there is the traveling; nights on
the train and days spent in the hotels until time to go to the opera
house; then the feverish excitement of dressing; the play; and back to
the hotel for a few hours’ sleep and away again to another town.
The trouble is that most of the young people who think that they
would like to go on the stage think only of the theaters in New York,
Chicago, Boston, or in one of the other large cities. The great
majority of the actor-folk spend most of their time traveling from
place to place. There are comparatively few plays that enjoy long
runs. Nowadays in one-night stands there are few places where special
rates at the hotels are secured for actors. Usually the worst rooms
in the house are assigned to them. In fact, the rooms that are given
to the actors and actresses are known in a great many hotels as the
Soubrette Row. The best rooms are saved for the regular patrons of the
house, such as traveling salesmen, while anything is “good enough for
the actor.” In China the player folk live to themselves. They have no
other companions but form a class of their own. We have not recognized
the caste system in this country, and we do not officially ostracise
the players, but in effect this is what we do. Their world is a world
apart, yet they are the ones that help to amuse us. Each year we pay
millions of dollars into the coffers of the theaters to see plays that
are produced by these men and women who work hard, and who receive but
little for their toil.
Once in a while the newspapers tell the story of some old actor, who
has just died poor, broken down, and forgotten by the public. One of
the most pathetic figures of these modern days was that of an old actor
in Brooklyn, who had to be buried at the expense of his friends. They
took up a collection to buy the casket in which he now rests; otherwise
he would have been buried in the potter’s field although thirty years
ago he was one of the most popular men on Broadway. There are thousands
of actors and actresses and they live for the most part to themselves.
The Actors’ Church Alliance was formed some years ago and has branches
in many of our cities. There is, too, an organization known as the
Actors’ Fund, which provides relief for the poor found among these
hard-working men and women who give so much pleasure to millions of
people.
=The Motion Pictures.= The motion-picture business has become one of
the greatest enterprises of our day. In 1914 there were over 20,000
motion-picture theaters in the United States. The year before that
three hundred million dollars was spent for films, and over five
billion paid admissions were recorded throughout the country. The
motion-picture has made possible the reproduction of the best plays,
and they are offered to the people at a very low price. Five and
ten cents will permit any one to be amused for a whole evening. The
motion-picture theater possesses great educational possibilities. It
has revolutionized our ideas of entertainment. The best books have been
put into films and more people than ever before are having a chance
to read. This is having a profound effect upon our lives, for as has
been said, “the thing we see impresses us more than what we hear.” We
often say, “it went in one ear and out the other” but no one ever says,
“it went in one eye and out the other.” The making of films requires
the work of thousands of actors; besides carpenters, masons, machine
operators, directors, and managers. It is a huge business!
A crowd gathered in New York at Thirty-fourth Street and Second Avenue
one Saturday afternoon. A man was beating a boy when a disheveled woman
ran out from the side entrance of a saloon and threw herself upon this
beast. He grasped her by the throat and was just about to strangle her,
when the boy, released from the clutches of the man, stabbed him in the
back with a knife and thus freed his mother. It happened so quickly
that many of the crowd thought that they were looking upon a real
tragedy. It proved to be simply a “movie” being enacted upon the street.
In a Florida city an automobile dashed into town; a young girl was in
the back seat, while in the front was a young man driving the machine
with one hand and holding a preacher down with the other. They stopped
in front of a church; went inside, and there they were met by two other
men, accomplices of the young fellow, and who stood one on either side
of the minister with revolvers at his head and forced him to perform
the marriage ceremony. An outrage in real life, but really played for
the movies.
In the West there are cities devoted entirely to the motion-picture
industry. In some of the elaborate plays hundreds of thousands of
dollars are expended in getting the scenic effects. Cities have been
built and then burned to give the effect of a sacked town being
destroyed by the enemy. Shipwrecks have been shown where real ships
have been purchased, and then run upon the rocks and deliberately
wrecked to get the proper setting for the pictures and the necessary
thrills for the people. What of these people who follow the
motion-picture industry for a living? Their lives are apart from the
rest of the community. It seems fascinating, but it is one filled with
hard labor, uncertain hours, and affords rather scanty pay. The pastor
of one of the Los Angeles churches attempted to reach the people living
in the near-by “movie-city” but he failed. A plan should be devised
whereby a sympathetic understanding might bring these hard-working
people into relationship with the church. The influence of such a tie
would be far-reaching in results.
=The Makers of Other Luxuries.= Another group of workers are those
who make jewelry; others are at work making fancy costumes, special
designs in millinery, and artificial flowers. In fact, when we take
a census of all of the people who are at work serving the demands of
this age, which loves the extraordinary and insists upon luxuries as
a right, you find that there are in reality hundreds of thousands of
these workers who are in every sense of the word serving humanity.
Whether they are serving in the highest and best way is not the
question we are discussing. As long as we tolerate an age of luxury
and draft an army of thousands of men, women, and children to help
produce these luxuries, so long must we consider the needs of the men,
women, and children so drafted. The church, if its appeal is to reach
all the groups, must reach all the workers who are making possible the
abundance of things that minister to an age of luxury.