Looking for Work—An Englishman’s Disadvantages—Addressing
Envelopes—Running a Lift—Bogus Advertisements—Various Jobs.
During the winter of 1892-93 and the spring of 1893, thousands of men
had flocked to Chicago from all parts of the United States, owing to the
reports of work and good wages, and the expectation of a boom in the
city in consequence of the Fair. Building operations in the
fair-grounds, men necessary to instal the machinery and the exhibits,
Columbian Guards, and the employees of the concessionaires, absorbed
thousands of them; and thousands more were absorbed outside the
fair-grounds in rushing up the hotels, saloons, &c.; but still they
came. After the Fair was once in full swing, instead of there being
employment for more, thousands were being turned off daily. Besides, the
Fair was not turning out the financial success that had been expected.
Added to the thousands who came to the city looking for work were other
thousands who had only come to see the Fair, but, getting “busted,” had
to remain and look for work to earn money to get home. Then, to make
matters worse, in the summer and fall of 1893 came the tremendous
business depression and panic all over the United States, which broke
many banks and hundreds of business men in Chicago and elsewhere. Even
in the spring and early summer we felt the forerunner of this.
I have to relate all this in order to explain the conditions I stepped
into, and the reason why the struggle was exceptional at that time for
any one, and more especially for a young married Englishman whose
training-ground had been an English public school. The latter, as I will
explain later, is the very poorest training that a man could have to
meet American conditions, and in many ways it inculcates ideas and
ideals that militate against one’s chances—at least, in one’s earlier
struggles. I first tried to secure office work, but found that I, with
absolutely no business training, was in competition with book-keepers
and stenographers of fifteen and twenty years’ experience, who were also
out of jobs; besides, these men were Americans, and knew all the ropes
thoroughly. I have sat or stood (more often the latter) for two hours in
a hall in company with 150 or 200 men all come after _one_ vacancy. Any
one who has not been through the mill in dire need of work can hardly
imagine the agony one feels when a callous office-boy comes in from the
sanctum, and with a grin hangs up a sign, “Position filled.” I used to
get up before 5 A.M. to buy the early morning papers, rush home to make
a list of the vacancies I thought I could fill and the hour at which
application had to be made. Often two or three advertisements would name
the same hour, and I would have to choose between them, but always with
the feeling that I had picked the wrong one. To some places I could
walk, but as Chicago is a huge town, I had to take cars to many of them,
and car-fare eats up money. It was certainly disheartening to go day
after day to five or six places and see the sign without even having a
chance to talk to the “boss”; but it was just as bad when I did see him,
as the invariable answer was, “I need experienced men only. Yes, I dare
say you could do the work, but we cannot afford to take chances.
Good-bye.”
Finally, I got a job at a wholesale drygoods (clothing) house,
addressing envelopes. I worked hard, as I did not dare to lose even this
temporary employment, and luckily, on the third day, attracted the
attention of one of the heads, who transferred me to the permanent
office force at $10 per week. This, though small pay, was at least
permanent till I could find something better or could get a rise, and I
worked hard to make up for my other deficiencies. I had been there
working about ten days, when one night on reaching home I received a
note from an influential friend connected with the New York Biscuit
Company (Chicago branch), that I could get a position paying $15 per
week by applying to the superintendent at the factory the next morning
at 9 A.M., and intimating that the superintendent had said that the
position would only remain open till then. On reaching the office the
next morning, I applied for leave for an hour, from nine till ten, and
was refused. I was now in a quandary to throw up a job I held, paying
$10, for another paying $15, but which I was not sure that I could fill,
as I did not know of what the work consisted. I decided to take the
chance, and went to the cashier to ask for my money. He told me, “The
firm pays by the week, and if you do not stay out the week you get
nothing.” I was now in for it; so I hurried over to the biscuit factory,
and handed my friend’s note to the superintendent, who told me the job
was to run the freight elevator. This, though better than nothing, was
not what I had been expecting, and it was somewhat of a blow. I went to
work at noon, and found out that the elevator-man was the intermediary
between surly teamsters on the ground floor and cursing foremen on all
the other floors. I had not my full strength then, being under twenty,
and found it taxed every ounce that was in me to handle bales of
wrapping-paper weighing 200 lbs., which I had to load on to and unload
from my elevator, also great hogsheads of lard weighing 800 lbs. Cases
of eggs were easy, and barrels of flour, but the paper, lard, and
molasses were terrible, and I found they used the same password on every
floor, “Hurry up!” After four days I found my hands and back in such a
condition that I could not keep up with the freight, and so, in spite of
my dread of again having to hunt work, I resigned. The superintendent
treated me very well, saying how sorry he was they had no other vacancy
to give me, and paid me up.
There is a class of brutes in the States, and possibly in other places,
who live off the poor desperately in need of a job; and it must pay
well, from the offices they are able to keep up and the advertising they
do. They advertise for, say, painters at $3 per day, or it may be
workers in crayon to enlarge photos. When you apply, you find out that
there is still a vacancy, that the work is very simple, but, in order to
secure the position, you must buy your paint-brushes and paints from
them for $5 or more, or it may be crayons at the same price or a greater
one. If you are desperate, and must have work before your funds all run
out, you buy, using your last few dollars for the purpose. If you have
not quite the amount they demand, they will tell you that in your
special case they will let you have it for the few cents less you may
have, as they hate to let any one escape them. After buying your outfit
they may possibly give you work (provided they see you have money still
left) for an hour or so, when you will be told you are not up to the
standard, but that they can teach you their method for another $20 or
so; and so it goes on till they have bled you. This game is worked in a
hundred different ways, but the result is always the same, and you are
out from $5 to $25, according to how much money or sense you have; and
you will have left to show for your money perhaps 50 cents’ worth of
crayons. It is a wonder to me that such men are not killed more often
than they are by some poor, desperate devil who sees nothing but suicide
before him, but wants to pay his debts before he goes. I was lucky
enough to keep out of their clutches through being warned, but wasted
much time in answering their advertisements, which are wonderfully
plausible. I have often wondered why Carnegie and some other of the
wealthy, who are trying to give their surplus wealth away for the good
of humanity, do not start some sort of national labour bureau to bring
the worker and the work together, charging a small fee and giving honest
treatment. Surely this would do almost as much good as libraries, &c.,
and would save many a young girl from a life of shame, and honest young
fellows from suicide or crime.
My next job was as insurance solicitor (tout), but I could not make
car-fare at it. Then I sold sewing machines, or rather tried to, but got
tired of having the dog set on me. I then got a berth as city salesman
for a wholesale grocery house, and did fairly well for a while; but the
quality of the goods with which they filled the orders was so inferior
to the samples that I could never get a second order in the same store.
My next job was with a drug manufacturer as demonstrator—that is, I had
a chair and a table, which I moved weekly from one large store to
another in different parts of the city, and gave out samples (of
root-beer and different essences) and advertising matter, and explained
all about the merits of our particular goods, and tried to answer all
the fool questions put to me. The reason of all this was that we sold
our goods to those stores under a guarantee that we would advertise them
till we had created a demand for them. After some weeks of this I was
put out on the street as city salesman, and did well, making $15 per
week and expenses. The head of the firm, a “Yankee” from Hartford,
Conn., was one of the best men I ever worked for, and the kindest. The
first week I handed him a detailed account of my expenses he told me, “I
only want the total, not the items. A dishonest man cannot work for me,
and an honest man I trust.” Then, when he had looked over it, he saw I
had lunches down at 15 cents (7½d.), and he said, “My employees do not
have to eat 15-cent lunches. Get yourself decent meals hereafter.” For
men such as this it is a pleasure to work, and they lose nothing by
their kindness.