THE POOR OF NEW YORK.
As we have said before, land for building purposes is very high and
scarce in New York. In consequence of this, dwellings rent here for
more than in other American cities. The laying off of the Central Park
was a decided benefit to the city and its inhabitants, but the blessing
had also its accompanying evil. It reduced the "house room" of the
island by eight hundred acres, which would have afforded comfortable
accommodations for seventy-two thousand persons, and naturally crowded
the lower quarters of the city to a still greater extent. A careful
estimate has been made by the Sanitary Association of New York, and
they report that with three fourths of the population there is an
average of six families to every house.
The poorer classes are to be met with in all parts of the city, but
they are most numerous along the East and North rivers, and between
Fourteenth and Canal streets. The majority of them are, beyond a doubt,
honest, and willing to work, and in times of great commercial activity
nearly all can find some means of employment; but in dull seasons, when
merchants and manufacturers are forced to discharge their employés,
thousands are thrown out of work, and the greatest suffering and
distress prevail in the poor districts. Besides these there are
thousands of vagrants, drunkards, and disreputable persons, who would
rather steal, or beg, than work, and whose misery is frightful.
We must not be understood as intimating that all who desire employment
can procure it in New York. Indeed the contrary is the case. Labor and
skill of almost every kind are in excess here. For every position of
regular labor there are at least five applicants, so that four fifths
of the poor have to resort to any and all means to maintain an honest
existence. Some of these means it is our purpose to notice separately.
THE LOWEST DEPTHS.
You will see the extremes of poverty and want in and about the Five
Points district. In the day time half-clad, filthy, emaciated creatures
pass you on the gloomy streets, and startle you with the air of misery
which they carry about them. At night these poor creatures huddle into
cellars, so damp, foul, and pestilential that it seems impossible for a
human being to exist in them. The walls are lined with "bunks," or
"berths," and the woodwork and bedding is alive with vermin; the floors
are covered with wretched beds in a similar condition. The place is
either as dark as midnight, or dimly lighted with a tallow dip.
Sometimes a stove, which only helps to poison the atmosphere, is found
in the place, sometimes a pan of coals, and often there is no means of
warmth at hand. Men, women, and children crowd into these holes, as
many as thirty being found in some of them. They pay a small sum to the
wretch who acts as landlord, for the privilege of receiving this
shelter from the cold night. The sexes are mingled carelessly, and the
grossest indecency prevails. The air is loaded with blasphemy and
curses, and is heavy with such foul odors that one unaccustomed to it
cannot remain five minutes in the place.
The attics of the lowest class of tenement houses are no better than
these cellars. They are colder, and more exposed to the elements, but
the suffering in them is no greater.
TENEMENT HOUSES.
The scarcity of land in the city has led to the construction of numbers
of buildings known as "Tenement Houses." These are large edifices,
containing many rooms and, often, as many families. They abound chiefly
in the Tenth, Eleventh, and Seventeenth Wards. The majority of persons
living in these houses are foreigners. "It is not to be inferred,
however, that it is poverty only that causes such dense settlement,
since a spirit of economy and frugality manifests itself among these
people, which forbids too much expenditure for the high rents charged,
or for much riding on the railroads." Still, whatever may be the causes
which lead persons to herd together in such buildings, the effect is
the same in all cases. The neighborhood becomes dirty and unhealthy,
and the buildings themselves perfect pest-houses. Some of them are neat
and tasteful in their exteriors, others are vile and filthy all over.
They are now generally built for this purpose. As pecuniary investments
they pay well, the rents sometimes yielding thirty-five per cent. on
the investment. The following description will convey a fair idea of
them to the reader. One of the houses stands on a lot with a front of
fifty feet, and a depth of two hundred and fifty feet. It has an alley
running the whole depth on each side of it. These alley-ways are
excavated to the depth of the cellars, arched over, and covered with
flag stones, in which, at intervals, are open gratings to give light
below; the whole length of which space is occupied by water closets,
without doors, and under which are open drains communicating with the
street sewers. The building is five stories high, and has a flat roof.
The only ventilation is by a window, which opens against a dead wall
eight feet distant, and to which rises the vapor from the vault below.
There is water on each floor, and gas pipes are laid through the
building, so that those who desire it can use gas. The building
contains one hundred and twenty-six families, or about seven hundred
inhabitants. Each family has a narrow sitting-room, which is used also
for working and eating, and a closet called a bed room. But few of the
rooms are properly ventilated. The sun never shines in at the windows,
and if the sky is overcast the rooms are so dark as to need artificial
light. The whole house is dirty, and is filled with the mingled odors
from the cooking-stoves and the sinks. In the winter the rooms are kept
too close by the stoves, and in the summer the natural heat is made
tenfold greater by the fires for cooking and washing. Pass these houses
on a hot night, and you will see the streets in front of them filled
with the occupants, and every window choked up with human heads, all
panting and praying for relief and fresh air. Sometimes the families
living in the close rooms we have described, take "boarders," who pay a
part of the expenses of the "establishment." Formerly the occupants of
these buildings emptied their filth and refuse matter into the public
streets, which in these quarters were simply horrible to behold; but of
late years, the police, by compelling a rigid observance of the
sanitary laws, have greatly improved the condition of the houses and
streets, and consequently the health of the people. The reader must not
suppose the house we have described is a solitary instance. There are
many single blocks of dwellings containing twice the number of families
residing on Fifth Avenue, on both sides of that street, from Washington
Square to the Park, or than a continuous row of dwellings similar to
those on Fifth Avenue, three or four miles in length. There is a
multitude of these squares, any of which contains a larger population
than the whole city of Hartford, Connecticut which covers an area of
seven miles. [Footnote: Annual Encyclopaedia, 1861] There is one single
house in the city which contains twelve hundred inhabitants.
FALLEN FORTUNES.
You will see all classes of people in these tenement houses, and,
amongst others, persons who have known wealth and comfort. Alas! that
it should be so. You will see them stealing along quickly and
noiselessly, avoiding the other inmates with an aversion they cannot
conceal, and as if they fear to be recognized by some one who knew them
in their better days. They live entirely to themselves, suffering more
than those who have been used to poverty. If they can get work, they
take it gladly and labor faithfully. If unable to procure it, they
suffer, and often starve in silence. Only when driven by the direst
necessity do they seek aid from charitable persons or associations.
There are many of these men and women, persons of worth and refinement,
in the great city, whose poverty and sufferings are known only to the
eye that sees all things.
A ROMANCE OF A CHIGNON.
Many a fine lady, as she pauses in her toilette to admire the effect of
the beautiful locks, for which she is indebted to her wealth rather
than to nature, would shrink in horror from the glittering coils, could
she know their whole story. We will tell it.
A poor sewing girl, whose only riches consisted of a "wealth of hair,"
died in a tenement house in one of the most wretched quarters of the
city. Her life had been a fearful struggle against want and temptation,
and death was a relief to her. She died alone, in her miserable home,
with no one to minister to her last wants. Her death became known to
the inmates of the house, who notified the city authorities.
Preparations were made to lay the body in the "Potter's field," and
until these were completed it was left in the silence and loneliness of
the chamber which had witnessed its mortal sufferings. While it lay
there, the door was noiselessly opened, and a man, roughly dressed,
with his face partly concealed, entered, glancing around carefully to
see if he was noticed. Then closing the door quickly, he approached the
body, and produced a pair of large shears; lifting the lifeless form
roughly with one hand, with the other he severed the long tresses
quickly from the cold head, and gathering them up, departed as
noiselessly as he had come, taking with him the only source of
happiness the dead woman had ever possessed. The braid was sold for a
mere trifle to a fashionable hair-dresser, who asked no questions
concerning it, and when it was seen next, it was worn by some fine
lady, who, in, her thoughtless vanity, never paused to consider its
history.