HOMELESS BOYS.
THE NEWSBOYS' LODGING-HOUSE.
The spectacle which earliest and most painfully arrested my attention in
this work, were the _houseless_ boys in various portions of the city.
There seemed to be a very considerable class of lads in New York who
bore to the busy, wealthy world about them something of the same
relation which Indians bear to the civilized Western settlers. They had
no settled home, and lived on the outskirts of society, their hand
against every man's pocket, and every man looking on them as natural
enemies; their wits sharpened like those of a savage, and their
principles often no better. Christianity reared its temples over them,
and Civilization was carrying on its great work, while they--a happy
race of little heathens and barbarians--plundered, or frolicked, or led
their roving life, far beneath. Sometimes they seemed to me, like what
the police call them, "street-rats," who gnawed at the foundations of
society, and scampered away when light was brought near them. Their life
was, of course, a painfully hard one. To sleep in boxes, or under
stairways, or in hay-barges on the coldest winter-nights, for a mere
child, was hard enough; but often to have no food, to be kicked and
cuffed by the older ruffians, and shoved about by the police, standing
barefooted and in rags under doorways as the winter-storm raged, and to
know that in all the great city there was not a single door open with
welcome to the little rover--this was harder.
Yet, with all this, a more light-hearted youngster than the street-boy
is not to be found. He is always ready to make fun of his own
sufferings, and to "chaff" others. His face is old from exposure and his
sharp "struggle for existence;" his clothes flutter in the breeze; and
his bare feet peep out from the broken boots. Yet he is merry as a
clown, and always ready for the smallest joke, and quick to take "a
point" or to return a repartee. His views of life are mainly derived
from the more mature opinions of "flash-men," engine-runners,
cock-fighters, pugilists, and pickpockets, whom he occasionally is
permitted to look upon with admiration at some select pot-house; while
his more ideal pictures of the world about him, and, his literary
education, come from the low theatres, to which he is passionately
attached. His morals are, of course, not of a high order, living, as he
does, in a fighting, swearing, stealing, and gambling set. Yet he has
his code; he will not get drunk; he pays his debts to other boys, and
thinks it dishonorable to sell papers on their beat, and, if they come
on his, he administers summary justice by "punching;" he is generous to
a fault, and will always divide his last sixpence with a poorer boy.
"Life is a strife" with him, and money its reward; and, as bankruptcy
means to the street-boy a night on the door-steps without supper, he is
sharp and reckless, if he can only earn or get enough to keep him above
water. His temptations are, to cheat, steal, and lie. His religion is
vague. One boy, who told me he "didn't live nowhere," who had never
heard of Christ, said he had heard of God, and the boys thought it "kind
o' lucky" to say over something to Him which one of them had learned,
when they were sleeping out in boxes.
With all their other vices, it is remarkable how few of these smaller
street-boys ever take liquor. And their kindness to one another, when
all are in the utmost destitution, is a credit to human nature. [Only
recently, a poor hump-backed lad in the Newsboys' Lodging-house gave his
dollar, and collected nine more from the boys, for the family of the
children who were lost in New Jersey.]
Their money is unfortunately apt to slip away, especially for gambling
and petty lotteries, called "policy-tickets." A tradition in the remote
past of some boy who drew a hundred dollars in these lotteries still
pervades the whole body, and they annually sink a considerable portion
of their hard-earned pennies in "policy-tickets."
The choice of these lads of a night's resting-place is sometimes almost
as remarkable as was Gavroche's in "Les Miserables." Two little newsboys
slept one winter in the iron tube of the bridge at Harlem; two others
made their bed in a burned-out safe in Wall Street. Sometimes they
ensconced themselves in the cabin of a ferry-boat, and thus spent the
night. Old boilers, barges, steps, and, above all, steam-gratings, were
their favorite beds.
In those days the writer would frequently see ten or a dozen of them,
piled together to keep one another warm, under the stairs of the
printing-offices.
In planning the alleviation of these evils, it was necessary to keep in
view one object, not to weaken the best quality of this class--their
sturdy independence--and, at the same time, their prejudices and habits
were not too suddenly to be assailed. They had a peculiar dread of
Sunday Schools and religious exhortations--I think partly because of the
general creed of their older associates, but more for fear that these
exercises were a "pious dodge" for trapping them into the House of
Refuge or some place of detention.
The first thing to be aimed at in the plan was, to treat the lads as
independent little dealers, and give them nothing without payment, but
at the same time to offer them much more for their money than they could
get anywhere else. Moral, educational, and religious influences were to
come in afterward. Securing them through their interests, we had a
permanent hold of them.
Efforts were made by the writer among our influential citizens and in
various churches, public meetings were held, articles written, the press
interested, and at length sufficient money was pledged to make the
experiment. The board of the new Society gave its approval, and a loft
was secured in the old "Sun Buildings," and fitted up as a lodging-room,
and in March, 1854, the first Lodging-house for street-boys or newsboys
in this country was opened.
An excellent superintendent was found in the person of a carpenter, Mr.
C. C. Tracy, who showed remarkable ingenuity and tact in the management
of these wild lads. These little subjects regarded the first
arrangements with some suspicion and much contempt. To find a good bed
offered them for six cents, with a bath thrown in, and a supper for four
cents, was a hard fact, which they could rest upon and understand; but
the motive was evidently "gaseous." There was "no money in it"--that was
clear. The Superintendent was probably "a street preacher," and this was
a trap to get them to Sunday Schools, and so prepare them for the House
of Refuge. Still, they might have a lark there, and it could be no worse
than "bumming," _i.e.,_ sleeping out. They laid their plans for a
general scrimmage in the school-room--first cutting off the gas, and
then a row in the bedroom.
The Superintendent, however, in a bland and benevolent way, nipped their
plans in the bud. The gas-pipes were guarded; the rough ring-leaders
were politely dismissed to the lower door, where an officer looked after
their welfare; and, when the first boots began to fly from a little
fellow's bed, he found himself suddenly snaked out by a gentle but
muscular hand, and left in the cold to shiver over his folly. The others
began to feel that a mysterious authority was getting even with them,
and thought it better to nestle in their warm beds.
Little sleeping, however, was there among them that night; but
ejaculations sounded out--such as, "I say, Jim, this is rayther better
'an bummin'--eh?" "My eyes! what soft beds these is!" "Tom! it's 'most
as good as a steam-gratin', and there ain't no M. P.'s to poke neither!"
"I'm glad I ain't a bummer to-night!"
A good wash and a breakfast sent the lodgers forth in the morning,
happier and cleaner, if not better, than when they went in. This night's
success established its popularity with the newsboys. The "Fulton Lodge"
soon became a boys' hotel, and one loft was known among them as the
"Astor House."
Quietly and judiciously did Mr. Tracy advance his lines among them.
"Boys," said he, one morning, "there was a gentleman here this morning,
who wanted a boy in an office, at three dollars a week."
"My eyes! Let _me_ go, sir!" And--_"Me,_ sir!"
"But he wanted a boy who could write a good hand."
Their countenances fell.
"Well, now, suppose we have a night-school, and learn to write--what do
you say, boys?".
"Agreed, sir."
And so arose our evening-school.
The Sunday Meeting, which is now an "institution," was entered upon in a
similarly discreet manner. The lads had been impressed by a public
funeral, and Mr. Tracy suggested their listening to a little reading
from the Bible. They consented, and were a good deal surprised at what
they heard. The "Golden Rule" struck them as an altogether impossible
kind of precept to obey, especially when one was "stuck and short," and
"had to live." The marvels of the Bible--the stories of miracles and the
like--always seemed to them natural and proper. That a Being of such a
character as Christ should control Nature and disease, was appropriate
to their minds. And it was a kind of comfort to these young vagabonds
that the Son of God was so often homeless, and that he belonged humanly
to the working classes. The petition for "daily bread" (which a
celebrated divine has declared "unsuited to modern conditions of
civilization") they always rolled out with a peculiar unction. I think
that the conception of a Superior Being, who knew just the sort of
privations and temptations that followed them, and who felt especially
for the poorer classes, who was always near them, and pleased at true
manhood in them, did keep afterward a considerable number of them from
lying and stealing and cheating and vile pleasures.
Their singing was generally prepared for by taking off their coats and
rolling up their sleeves, and was entered into with a gusto.
The voices seemed sometimes to come from a different part of their
natures from what we saw with the bodily eyes. There was, now and then,
a gentle and minor key, as if a glimpse of something purer and higher
passed through these rough lads. A favorite song was, "There's a Rest
for the Weary," though more untiring youngsters than these never frisked
over the earth; and "There's a light in the Window for Thee, Brother,"
always pleased them, as if they imagined themselves wandering alone
through a great city at night, and at length a friendly light shone in
the window for them.
Their especial vice of money-wasting the Superintendent broke up by
opening a Savings-bank, and allowing the boys to vote how long it should
be closed. The small daily deposits accumulated to such a degree that
the opening gave them a great surprise at the amounts which they
possessed, and they began to feel thus the "sense of property," and the
desire of accumulation, which economists tell us, is the base of all
civilization. A liberal interest was also soon allowed on deposits,
which stimulated the good habit. At present, from two hundred to three
hundred dollars will often be saved by the lads in a month.
The same device, and constant instruction, broke up gambling, though I
think policy-tickets were never fairly undermined among them.
The present Superintendent and Matron of the Newsboys' Lodging-house,
Mr. and Mrs. O'Connor (at Nos. 49 and 51 Park Place), are unsurpassed in
such institutions in their discipline, order, good management, and
excellent housekeeping. The floors, over which two hundred or two
hundred and fifty street-boys tread daily, are as clean as a
man-of-war's deck. The Sunday-evening meetings are as attentive and
orderly as a church, the week-evening school quiet and studious. All
that mass of wild young humanity is kept in perfect order, and brought
under a thousand good influences.
The Superintendent has had a very good preliminary experience for this
work in the military service--having been in the British army in the
Crimea. The discipline which he maintains is excellent. He is a man,
too, of remarkable generosity of feeling, and a good "provider." One
always knows that his boys will have enough to eat, and that everything
will be managed liberally--and justly. It is truly remarkable during how
many years he controlled that great multitude of little vagabonds and
"roughs," and yet with scarcely ever even a complaint from any source
against him. For such success is needed the utmost kindness, and, at the
same time, the strictest justice. His wife has been almost like a mother
to the boys.
In the course of a year the population of a town passes through the
Lodging-house--in 1869 and '70, _eight thousand eight hundred and
thirty-five_ different boys. Many are put in good homes; some find
places for themselves; others drift away--no one knows whither. They are
an army of orphans--regiments of children who have not a home or
friend--a multitude of little street-rovers who have no place where to
lay their heads. They are being educated in the streets rapidly to be
thieves and burglars and criminals. The Lodging-house is at once school,
church, intelligence-office, and hotel for them. Here they are shaped to
be honest and industrious citizens; here taught economy, good order,
cleanliness, and morality; here Religion brings its powerful influences
to bear upon them; and they are sent forth to begin courses of honest
livelihood.
The Lodging-houses repay their expenses to the public ten times over
each year, in preventing the growth of thieves and criminals. They are
agencies of pure humanity and almost unmingled good. Their only possible
reproach could be, that some of their wild subjects are soon beyond
their reach, and have been too deeply tainted with the vices of
street-life to be touched even by kindness, education, or religion. The
number who are saved, however, are most encouragingly large.
The Newsboys' Lodging-house is by no means, however, an entire burden on
the charity of the community. During 1870 the lads themselves paid
$3,349 toward its expense.
The following is a brief description of the rooms during the past five
years:
The first floor is divided into various compartments--a large
dining-room, where one hundred and fifty boys can sit down to a table; a
kitchen, laundry, storeroom, servants' room, and rooms for the family of
the superintendent The next story is partitioned into a school-room,
gymnasium, and bath and wash rooms, plentifully supplied with hot and
cold water. The hot water and the heat of the rooms are supplied by a
steam-boiler on the lower story. The two upper stories are filled with
neat iron bedsteads, having two beds each, arranged like ships' bunks
over each other; of these there are two hundred and sixty. Here are also
the water-vats, into which the many barrelsful used daily are pumped by
the engine. The rooms are high and dry, and the floors clean.
It is a commentary on the housekeeping and accommodations that for
eighteen years no case of contagious disease has ever occurred among
these thousands of boys.
The New York Newsboys' Lodging-house has been in existence eighteen
years. During these years it has lodged 91,326 different boys, restored
7,278 boys to friends, provided 5,126 with homes, furnished 576,485
lodgings and 469,461 meals. The expense of all this has been $132,888.
Of this amount the boys have contributed $32,306.
That the Lodging-house has had a vigorous growth, is shown by the
following table:
TABULAR STATEMENT SINCE ORGANIZATION
========================================================
| | | | |
| | | | Return- |
YEAR | No. of | No. of | No. of | ed to |
| Boys. | Lodgings.| Meals. | friends.|
| | | | |
| | | | |
--------------------------------------------------------
1854 to 1855..| 408 | 6,872 | ........ | ....... |
1855 to 1856..| 374 | 7,599 | ........ | ....... |
1856 to 1857..| 387 | 5,157 | ........ | ....... |
1857 to 1858..| 800 | 8,026 | 11,923 | ....... |
1858 to 1859..| 3,000 | 14,000 | 13,114 | ....... |
1859 to 1860..| 4,500 | 19,747 | 13,341 | 100 |
1860 to 1861..| 4,000 | 27,390 | 16,873 | 247 |
1861 to 1862..| 3,875 | 32,954 | 19,809 | ....... |
1862 to 1863..| 3,000 | 29,409 | 20,000 | 396 |
1863 to 1864..| 6,325 | 36,572 | 25,506 | 437 |
1864 to 1865..| 6,793 | 42,446 | 30,137 | 576 |
1865 to 1866..| 7,256 | 43,797 | 32,867 | 633 |
1866 to 1867..| 8,192 | 49,519 | 33,633 | 719 |
1867 to 1868..| 8,599 | 51,740 | 35,617 | 819 |
1868 to 1869..| 8,944 | 53,610 | 54,092 | 896 |
1869 9 months.| 7,383 | 39,077 | 33,207 | 642 |
1869 to 1870..| 8,655 | 55,565 | 56,128 | 713 |
1870 to 1871..| 8,835 | 53,005 | 53,214 | 1,100 |
|--------|----------|----------|---------|
Total..| 91,326 | 576,485 | 469,461 | 7,278 |
OF NEWSBOYS' LODGING-HOUSE.
=============================================================
| | | |
| | | No. of |
YEAR | Expenses. | Paid by | Boys |Am'nt saved
| | Boys. | using | by them.
| | | Bank. |
| | | |
-------------------------------------------------------------
1854 to 1855..| $1,199.76 | $397.56 | ...... | .........
1855 to 1856..| 1,431.82 | 391.26 | 16 | $643.58
1856 to 1857..| 1,762.56 | 262.56 | 116 | 270.70
1857 to 1858..| 1,925.03 | 298.03 | ...... | .........
1858 to 1859..| 2,199.34 | 807.15 | ...... | .........
1859 to 1860..| 2,113.56 | 955.44 | 23 | 110.10
1860 to 1861..| 3,420.57 | 1,036.98 | 230 | 1,259.77
1861 to 1862..| 2,736.08 | 1,138.88 | 388 | 1,376.59
1862 to 1863..| 3,402.82 | 1,102.33 | 347 | 1,315.10
1863 to 1864..| 5,758.16 | 1,599.10 | 405 | 2,080.06
1864 to 1865..| 7,159.95 | 1,944.22 | 499 | 2,565.92
1865 to 1866..| 10,058.13 | 2,127.44 | 599 | 2,486.43
1866 to 1867..| 10,847.79 | 2,718.79 | 542 | 2,121.76
1867 to 1868..| 12,094.00 | 3,177.69 | 703 | 2,203.45
1868 to 1869..| 23,333.45 | 3,644.49 | 796 | 2,057.76
1869 9 months.| 13,445.24 | 3,180.35 | 659 | 1,688.22
1869 to 1870..| 15,102.11 | 4,214.42 | 1,107 | 2,433.60
1870 to 1871..| 14,898.03 | 3,349.77 | 1,065 | 2,588.31
|------------|------------|--------|-----------
Total..|$132,888.40 | $32,306.96 | 7,495 |$25,141.35
Extracts from the journal of a visitor from the country:
A VISIT TO THE NEWSBOYS.
"It requires a peculiar person to manage and talk to these boys.
Bullet-headed, short-haired, bright-eyed, shirt-sleeved, go-ahead boys.
Boys who sell papers, black boots, run on errands, hold horses, pitch
pennies, sleep in barrels, and steal their bread. Boys who know at the
age of twelve more than the children of ordinary men would have learned
at twenty; boys who can cheat you out of your eye-teeth, and are as
smart as a steel-trap. They will stand no fooling; they are accustomed
to gammon, they live by it. No audience that ever we saw could compare
in attitudinizing with this. Heads generally up; eyes fall on the
speaker; mouths, almost without an exception, closed tightly; hands in
pockets; legs stretched out; no sleepers, all wide-awake, keenly alive
for a pun, a point, or a slangism. Winding up, Mr. Brace said: 'Well,
boys, I want my friends here to see that you have the material for
talkers amongst yourselves; whom do you choose for your orator?'
"'Paddy, Paddy,' shouted one and all. 'Come out, Paddy. Why don't you
show yourself?' and so on.
"Presently Paddy came forward, and stood upon a stool. He is a
youngster, not more than twelve, with a little round eye, a short nose,
a lithe form, and chuck-full of fun.
[Illustration: THE NEWSBOY. (From a photograph.)]
"'Bummers,' said he, 'snoozers, and citizens, I've come down here among
ye to talk to yer a little! Me and my friend Brace have come to see how
ye'r gittin' along, and to advise yer. You fellers what stands at the
shops with yer noses over the railin', smellin' ov the roast beef and
the hash--you fellers who's got no home--think of it how we are to
encourage ye. [Derisive laughter, "Ha-ha's," and various ironical kinds
of applause.] I say, bummers--for you're _all_ bummers (in a tone of
kind patronage)--_I was a bummer once_ [great laughter]--I hate to see
you spendin' your money on penny ice-creams and bad cigars. Why don't
you save your money? You feller without no boots, how would you like a
new pair, eh? [Laughter from all the boys but the one addressed.] Well,
I hope you may get 'em, but I rayther think you won't. I have hopes for
you all. I want you to grow up to be rich men--citizens, Government men,
lawyers, generals, and influence men. Well, boys, I'll tell you a story.
My dad was a hard 'un. One beautiful day he went on a spree, and he came
home and told me where's yer mother? and I axed him I didn't know, and
he clipt me over the head with an iron pot, and knocked me down, and me
mither drapped in on him, and at it they went. [Hi-hi's, and
demonstrative applause.] Ah! at it they went, and at it they kept--ye
should have seen 'em--and whilst they were fightin', I slipped, meself
out the back door, and away I went like a scart dog. [Oh, dry up! Bag
your head! Simmer down!] Well, boys, I wint on till I kim to the 'Home'
[great laughter among the boys], and they took me in [renewed laughter],
and did for me, without a cap to me head or shoes to me feet, and thin I
ran away, and here I am. Now boys [with mock solemnity], be good, mind
yer manners, copy me, and see what you'll become.'
"At this point the boys raised such a storm of hifalutin applause, and
indulged in such characteristic demonstrations of delight, that it was
deemed best to stop the youthful Demosthenes, who jumped from his stool
with a bound that would have done credit to a monkey.
"At this juncture huge pans of apples were brought in, and the boys were
soon engaged in munching the delightful fruit, after which the Matron
gave out a hymn, and all joined in singing it, during which we took our
leave."
A NEWSBOY'S SPEECH. (FROM OUR JOURNAL.)
"Some of these boys, in all their misfortunes, have a humorous eye for
their situation--as witness the following speech, delivered by one of
them at the Newsboys' Lodging-house, before the departure of a company
to the West. The report is a faithful one, made on the spot. The little
fellow mounted a chair, and thus held forth:
"'Boys, gintlemen, chummies: Praps you'd like to hear summit about the
West, the great West, you know, where so many of our old friends are
settled down and growin' up to be great men, maybe the greatest men in
the great Republic. Boys, that's the place for growing Congressmen, and
Governors, and Presidents. Do you want to be newsboys always, and
shoeblacks, and timber-merchants in a small way by sellin' matches? If
ye do you'll stay in New York, but if you don't you'll go out West, and
begin to be farmers, for the beginning of a farmer, my boys, is the
making of a Congressman, and a President. Do you want to be rowdies, and
loafers, and shoulder-hitters? If ye do, why, ye can keep around these
diggins. Do you want to be gentlemen and independent citizens? You
do--then make tracks for the West, from the Children's Aid Society. If
you want to be snoozers, and rummeys, and policy-players, and Peter
Funks men, why you'll hang up your caps and stay round the groceries and
jine fire-engine and target companies, and go firin' at haystacks for
bad quarters; but if ye want to be the man who will make his mark in the
country, ye will get up steam, and go ahead, and there's lots on the
prairies a waitin' for yez.
"'You haven't any idear of what ye may be yet, if you will only take a
bit of my advice. How do you know but, if you are honest, and good, and
industerous, you may get so much up in the ranks that you won't call a
gineral or a judge your boss. And you'll have servants ov all kinds to
tend you, to put you to bed when you are sleepy, and to spoon down your
vittles when you are gettin' your grub. Oh, boys! won't that be great!
Only think--to have a feller to open your mouth, and put great slices of
punkin pie and apple dumplings into it. You will be lifted on hossback
when you go for to take a ride on the prairies, and if you choose to go
in a wagon, or on a 'scursion, you will find that the hard times don't
touch you there; and the best of it will be that if 'tis good to-day,
'twill be better to-morrow.
"But how will it be if you don't go, boys? Why, I'm afraid when you grow
too big to live in the Lodging-house any longer, you'll be like lost
sheep in the wilderness, as we heard of last Sunday night here, and
you'll maybe not find your way out any more. But you'll be found
somewhere else. The best of you will be something short of judges and
governors, and the feller as has the worst luck--and the worst behaver
in the groceries-will be very sure to go from them to the prisons.
"I will now come from the stump. I am booked for the West in the next
company from the Lodging-house. I hear they have big school-houses and
colleges there, and that they have a place for me in the winter time; I
want to be somebody, and somebody don't live here, no how. You'll find
him on a farm in the West, and I hope you'll come to see him soon and
stop with him when you go, and let every one of yous be somebody, and be
loved and respected. I thank yous, boys, for your patient attention. I
can't say more at present, I hope I haven't said too much.'"
THE BUILDING FUND.
An effort was made in the Legislature, a few years since, to obtain a
building-fund for the Newsboys' Lodging-house. This was granted from the
Excise Fund of the city for the legitimate reason, that those who do
most to form drunkards should be compelled to aid in the expense and
care of the children of drunkards. Thirty thousand dollars were
appropriated from these taxes, provided a similar amount was raised by
private subscription. This sum was obtained by the kindness and energy
of the friends of the enterprise, and the whole amount ($60,000) was
invested in good securities.
In 1872 it had accumulated to $80,000, and the purchase was made of the
"Shakespeare Hotel," on the corner of Duane and Chambers Streets, which
is now being fitted up and rebuilt as a permanent Lodging-house for
Homeless Boys. The building has streets on three sides, and, plenty of
air and light. Shops will be let underneath, so that the payments of the
boys and the rents received will nearly defray the annual expenses of
this charity, thus insuring its permanency.