The House on Henry Street: Vi. Social Forces

I

IT would be impossible in the space of a single chapter to give adequate presentation of those forces termed social which have hold upon our neighborhood. 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. Many men and women are 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, and 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 its dispersal 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 near by, 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.

Occasionally a zealot seeks to rekindle in the churches of our neighborhood the fire that once brightened their altars, and social workers called thither one ‘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 down town no begging letters had come to him from the neighborhood, nor had any one 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, upon hearing of the bishop’s tribute, said, ‘That’s nothing new. It ’s only new to a bishop.’

In the 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 façade, high above the passers-by. Threading in and out of the throngs are picturesquely shawled women with lovely babes in arms, fakirs, beggars, and venders offering for sale rosaries, candles, and holy pictures. Mulberry Street, Elizabeth Street, and even Goerck Street’s sordid ugliness are then transformed for the time and a clue is given to the old-world influencc of the Church through the 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 on 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 is 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.

Rut though the religious life is abundantly in evidence through the synagogues and the Talmud-Torah schools and Chedorim,¹ 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.

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 convictions 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 for many years, 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.

II

During any election campaign the swarming, gesticulating, serious-looking street crowds of our neighborhood are multiplied and intensified.

During the recent almost riotous support of a governor who had been impeached (at the behest, it was generally believed, 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.’

Our first realization of the dominating influence of a political control upon the individual and collective life of the neighborhood came to us, naturally enough, through the gossip of our new acquaintances when we came to live down town, 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 some one 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 success as a 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 had 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 Tammany’s attitude with what he supposed to be mine toward the poor, he added with a smile of comprehension, ‘ It’s the same thing, only we keep books.’

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 time, remembers favors, of whom we are critical.

Opposed to the solidarity of the longdominant party are the other party organizations and numerous cliques of radicals, independents, and reformers. These unite when the offenses of the party in power become most flagrant, 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 up-state colleague repeat the rumor that Governor Hughes, then a candidate for reëlection, was to be ‘knifed' by his party'. We had seen in our part 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 his 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 party.

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. The settlements have increasing authority because of the persistence 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 settlement-worker is often utilized by the state. At the twentieth anniversary of our Settlement the mayor drew attention to the fact that no less than five important city departments were entrusted to individuals 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, dispiritedlooking 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. 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.²

Meeting me on the Bowery one day about two years later, a neighbor 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 Theatre, famous, under its old name of the Bowery, in the annals of the American stage. In this theatre Charlotte Cushman made her first appearance in New York, and here the elder Booth, Lester Wallack, and other distinguished players delighted the theatregoers 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 helping 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 theatre. 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 through 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 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 it’s 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 arguments 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 ani mates great numbers of the party.

Meyer London, the first Socialist Member of Congress from the East and the second in the United States, has been elected from our district; he is a man universally esteemed for his probity, and has a record of many years’ unselfish devotion to the workingmen’s cause.

It seems a far cry from that first unimpressive little parade that drew the Settlement family to the windows twenty years ago.

Recently the conviction that the extension of democracy should include women has found free expression in out part of the city. Miss Lavinia 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; and 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 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.

III

If spiritual force implies the power to lift the individual out of contemplation of his own interests into something great and of ultimate value to the men and women of this generation and the generations to come, and if, so lifted, he freely offers sacrifices on the altar of the cause, it may be said that the Russian revolution is a spiritual force on the East Side of New York.

People who all through the day are immersed in mundane affairs—the earning of money to provide food and shelter — are transfigured at its appeal. Back of the Russian Jew’s ardor for the liberation of a people from the absolutism that provoked terrorism, lies also the memory of pogroms and massacres.

Though I had agonized with my neighbors over the tales that crossed the waters and the pitiful human drift that came to our shores, I did not know how far I was from realizing the depths of horror until I saw at Ellis Island little children with sabre cuts on their heads and bodies, mutilated and orphaned at the Kishineff massacre. Rescued by compassionate people, they had been sent here to be taken into American homes.

George Kennan, who first focused the attention of Americans upon the political exiles through his dramatic portrayal of their condition in the Siberian prisons, is still the eager champion of their cause. Prince Kropotkin, who thrilled the readers of this magazine with his ‘Autobiography of a Revolutionist’; Tschaikowksy, Gershuni, Marie Sukloff, — a long procession of saints and martyrs, sympathizers and supporters,—have crossed the threshold of the House on Henry Street and stirred deep feeling there. Katharine Breshkovsky1 (Babushka, little grandmother) , most beloved of all who have suffered for the great cause, is to many a symbol of the Russian revolution.

Who of those that sat around the fire with her in the sitting-room of the Henry Street house can ever forget the experience! We knew vaguely the story of the young noblewoman’s attempt to teach the newly freed serfs on her father’s estate in the early sixties; how her religious zeal to give all that she had to the poor was regarded as dangerous by the Czar’s government, and how one suppression and persecution after another finally drove her into the circle of active revolutionists. Her long incarceration in the Russian prison and final sentence to the Kara mines and hard labor were known to us, and we identified her as the woman whose exalted spirit had stirred George Kennan when he met her in the little Buriat hamlet on the frontier of China so many years ago. And now, after two decades of prison and Siberian exile, she sat with us and thrilled us with glimpses of the courage of those who answered the call. Lightly touching on her own share in the tragic drama, she carried us with her on the long road to Siberia among the politicals and the convicts who were their companions, through the perils of an almost successful escape with three students to the Pacific a thousand miles away. She told of her recapture and return to hard labor in the Kara mines, of the unspeakable outrages, and the heroic measures her companions there took to draw attention to the prisoners’ plight; and how, despite these things, she looked back upon that time as wonderful because of the beautiful and valiant souls who were her fellow prisoners and companions, — young women who had given up more than life itself for the great cause of liberty. Her arrest upon returning to Russia after the brief respite of her visit to America, her courageous address to the court that sentenced her to life exile, and her escape and recapture over a year ago, are well known to the world. From her prison at Irkutsk this woman, nearing her seventieth birthday, sends messages of cheer and hope, proclaiming her unquenchable faith that the cause is just and therefore must prevail.

When I last saw her, at the close of her stay in this country, she implored me never to forget Russia and the struggle there, and said, as we separated after a lingering embrace,'Should you ever grow cold, bring before your mind the procession of men and women who for years and years have gone in the early dawn of their life to execution, and gladly, that others might be free.'

Our contact with the members of the Russian revolutionary committee in New York is close enough to enable us to be of occasional service to them, and some assurance of our trustworthiness must have penetrated into the prisons if the letters we receive and the exiles who come to us are an indication. An organization for the relief of Russian political prisoners has generous local support. The Friends of Russian Freedom, a national association with headquarters in New York, is composed of well-known American sympathizers, and, like the society of the same name in England, recognizes the spirit that animates Russians engaged in the struggle for political freedom and is watchful to show sympathy and give aid.

An occasion for this arose about eight years ago, when the Russian government demanded the extradition of one Jan Pouren as a common criminal. The commissioner before whom the case was brought acceded to Russia’s demand, and Pouren was held in the Tombs prison to await extradition. Then this insignificant Lettish peasant became a centre of protest. Pouren, it was known, had been involved in the Baltic uprisings, and acquiescence in Russia’s demand for his extradition would imperil thousands who, like him, had sought a refuge here, and would take heart out of the people who still clung to the party of protest throughout Russia. A great mass meeting held in Cooper Union bore testimony to the tenacity with which high-minded Americans clung to the cherished traditions of their country. Able counsel generously offered their services, and it was hoped that this and other expressions of public protest would induce the Secretary of State to order the case reopened.

My own participation came about because of a request from the active defenders that I present to President Roosevelt personally the arguments for the reopening of the case. The President appointed for my visit an hour just preceding the weekly Cabinet meeting. I took to the White House an extraordinary letter sent by Lettish peasants, now hard-working and lawabiding residents of Massachusetts and New Hampshire. It read, ‘We hear that Jan Pouren is in prison; that he is called a criminal. We called him brother and comrade. Do not let him fall into the hands of the bloodthirsty vampire.’

To this letter were appended the signatures and addresses of men who had been in the struggle in Russia and who, by identifying themselves with Pouren, placed themselves in equal jeopardy should the case go against him. They offered to give sworn affidavits or to come in person to testify for the accused. With the letter had come a considerable sum of money which the signers had collected from their scanty wages for Pouren’s defense.

I took with me also a translation of the report to the second Duma on the subject of the Baltic uprisings, wherein this testimony was recorded, in reference to the attempt of the government to locate those involved in the disturbances: ‘They beat the eight-yearold Anna Pouren, demanding of her that she should tell the whereabouts of her father.’

The President and the secretaries concerned discussed the matter, and I left with the assurance that the new evidence offered would justify the reopening of the case. At the second hearing the commissioner’s decision was reversed, and Russia’s demand refused, on the ground that the alleged offenses were shown to be political and ‘not in any one instance for personal grievance or for personal gain.’³

IV

There is not space in this chapter to do more than touch on our state and national policy concerning immigration, a subject of vital interest in American settlements. Illuminating anecdotes might be told of the storm and stress that often lie beneath the surface of the immigrant’s experience, from the time he purchases his ticket in the old country till the gates at Ellis Island close behind him and the process of assimilation begins. That he has so often been exploited and left rudderless in strange seas is a chapter in the history of this ‘land of opportunity’ that cannot be omitted.

Once, in searching for a patient in a large tenement near the Bowery, I knocked at each door in turn. An Italian woman hesitatingly opened one, no wider than to give me a glimpse of a slight creature obviously stricken with fear. Her face brought instantly to my mind the famous picture of the sorrowing mother. ‘Dolorosa!’ I said. The tone and the word sufficed and she opened the door wide enough to let me enter. In a corner of the room lay two children with marks of starvation upon them.

Laying my hat and bag on the table to indicate that I would return, I flew to the nearest grocery for food, taking time while my purchases were being made ready to telephone to a distinguished Italian upon whose interest and sympathy I could rely, to meet me at the tenement, that we might learn the cause of this obvious distress.

My friend arrived before I had finished feeding the children, and to him the little mother poured forth her tale. She had arrived some days before, with three children, to meet her husband, who had preceded her and had prepared the home for them. One bambina was ill when they reached port and it was taken from her, — why, she could not explain. She was allowed to land with the other two and join her husband; and the following day, in answer to their frantic inquiries, they learned that the child had been taken to a hospital and had died there. Then her husband was arrested, and she, without acquaintance with a single human being in the city, found herself with two starving children, too frightened to open the door or to venture upon the street. She thought that her husband was imprisoned somewhere near by.

My friend and I went together to Ludlow Street Jail, and here a curious thing occurred. We merely inquired for the prisoner; we asked no questions. His cell door was opened and he was released. Later I learned that he had been arrested because of failure to make a satisfactory payment on a watch which he was purchasing on the installment plan. There must have been gross irregularity in the transaction, judging by the willingness to release him and the fact that his creditor failed to appear against him. It was hinted at the time that there was collusion between the installment-plan dealers and the prison officials.

The government’s policy regarding the immigrant has been negative, concerned with exclusion and deportation, the head-tax, and the enforcement of treaties and international agreements.

By our laws we are protected from the pauper, the sick, and the vicious; but only within very recent years has a hearing been given to those who have asked that our government assume an affirmative policy of protection, distribution, and assimilation. In turn the private banker, the employment agent, the ticket-broker, the lawyer, and the notary public have battened upon the helplessness of the immigrant. Our experience has convinced us that in the interest of the state itself the future citizen should be made to feel that protection and fair treatment are accorded by the state. The greater number of immigrants who come to us are adults for whose upbringing this country has been at no expense. It would seem only just to give them special protection during their first years in the country, to encourage confidence in our institutions and to promote assimilation.

Such thoughts lay back of the invitation to Governor Hughes to dine and spend an evening at the Settlement and there meet those colleagues who could speak authoritatively of the hardship to the immigrants and the mistake, for us, of leaving to chance philanthropy the problems of their first bewildered years of life here.

The Governor left us, armed with maps and documentary evidence. A few months later the Legislature authorized the creation of a commission to study the condition of aliens in New York State; and among its members were two women, Frances Kellor and myself. Upon the recommendation of that commission the New York State Bureau of Industries and Immigration of the Department of Labor was created. Miss Frances Kellor, first woman head of a State bureau, became its chief.

The Social Reform Club, organized in 1894, was a factor in helping to stimulate a more general public interest in matters of social concern.

The club aimed at the immediate future and labored solely for measures that had a fair promise of early success. Its members, wage-earners and nonwage-earners in almost equal numbers, were required ‘to have a deep, active interest in the elevation of society, especially by the improvement of the condition of wage-earners.'

Ernest Crosby,Tolstoïanand reformer, was the first president, and the original membership comprised distinguished men and women, courageous thinkers who fully met the requirements of the society, and others, like myself, who were to gain enlightenment regarding methods and theories for the direct improvement of industrial and social conditions.

It was the time of excessive sweatshop abuses, and from the windows of our tenement home we could look upon figures bent over the whirring footpower machines. One room in particular almost unnerved us. Never did we go to bed so late or rise so early that we saw the machines at rest. And the unpleasant conditions where manufacturing was carried on in the over-crowded rooms of the families we nursed disquieted us more than the diseases we were trying to combat.

Our sympathies were ready for enlistment when working people whom we knew, and whose sobriety of habits and mind won confidence and esteem, discussed the possibility of improving Conditions through organization. In another place I have told how the young girls first led us into the trade-union movement; but now, where the standard of the entire family was involved through the wage and working conditions of its chief wage-earner, it became to us a movement of greater significance.

We were accorded a doubtful distinction by acquaintances who had no point of contact with working people when we acknowledged friendship with ‘demagogues’ and ‘walking delegates' (terms which they used interchangeably); and, inexperienced though we were, it was possible in a small way to help build a bridge of understanding.

Through the years that have followed, the Settlement has from time to time been the neutral ground where both sides might meet, or has furnished the ‘impartial third party ’ in industrial disputes.

Since those days cloaks are no longer made in the New York tenement homes, and the once unhappy sweated workers, united with other garmentmakers, have been lifted into eminence because of the unusual character of their organization.

In 1910, after a prolonged strike, peace was declared under a ‘ Protocol'⁴ wherein were combined unique methods devised for control of shops and adjustment of difficulties between the association of progressive manufacturers and the trade-unions. New terms — ‘a preferential union shop’ and the ‘Joint Board of Sanitary Control’ — were introduced. Under the latter, sanitary standards were to be enforced by the trade itself, for the first time in the history of industry. On this board, the expense of which is shared equally by the association of manufacturers and the trade-unions, are representatives of both organizations, their attorneys, and three representatives of the public unanimously elected by both parties to the agreement.

When I was asked to be one of the three representatives of the public, already laden with responsibilities, I was loath to accept another; but the temptation to have even a small share in the socializing of industries involving, in New York City alone, nearly 100,000 workers and several hundred millions of dollars, was irresistible.

High sanitary standards and a living wage, with reasonable hours of employment, were assured so long as both parties submitted to the terms of the protocol. The world seemed to have moved since we shuddered over the long hours and the germ-exposed garments in the tenements; but while this chapter is being prepared for the press a movement is on foot by one of the parties to abrogate the protocol, to the sincere regret of those who are interested in what has been a most fruitful experiment.

The settlements have been before the public long enough to have lost the glamour of moral adventure that was associated with their early days. Yet many of the pioneers have remained, though sometimes realizing, as one of them has said, that ‘high purpose has often been mocked by petty achievement.’

A characteristic and important service of the settlement lies in its opportunities for creating and informing public opinion. Its flexibility as an instrument makes it pliant to the essential demands made upon it; uncommitted to a fixed programme, it can move with the times. Out of the enthusiasms and out of the sympathies of those who come to it, though they be sometimes crude and formless, a force is created that makes for progress. For these, as well as for the helpless and ignorant who seek aid and counsel, the settlement performs a function.

The visitors who come from all parts of the world and exchange views and experiences prove how absurd are frontiers between honest men and women of different nationalities or different classes. Human interest and passion for human progress break down barriers centuries old. They form a tie that binds closer than any conventional relationship.

(The End.)