Lights and Shadows of New York Life

J >> James D. McCabe >> Lights and Shadows of New York Life

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The wrongs inflicted upon the working women are many. "There are
hoop-skirt manufactories where, in the incessant din of machinery, girls
stand upon weary feet all day long for fifty cents. There are photograph
galleries--you pass them in Broadway admiringly--where girls 'mount'
photographs in dark rooms, which are hot in summer and cold in winter,
for the same money. There are girls who make fans, who work in feathers,
who pick over and assort rags for paper warehouses, who act as
'strippers' in tobacco shops, who make caps, and paper boxes, and toys,
and almost all imaginable things. There are milliners' girls, and
bindery girls, and printers' girls--press-feeders, book-folders,
hat-trimmers. It is not to be supposed that all these places are
objectionable; it is not to be supposed that all the places where
sewing-girls work are objectionable; but among each class there are very
many--far too many--where evils of the gravest character exist, where the
poor girls are wronged, the innocents suffer. There are places where
there are not sufficient fires kept, in cold weather, and where the poor
girl, coming in wet and shivering from the storm, must go immediately to
work, wet as she is, and so continue all day. There are places where the
'silent system' of prisons is rigidly enforced, where there are severe
penalties for whispering to one's neighbor, and where the windows are
closely curtained, so that no girl can look out upon the street; thus, in
advance, inuring the girls to the hardships of prison discipline, in view
of the possibility that they may, some day become criminals! There are
places where the employer treats his girls like slaves, in every sense of
the word. Pause a moment, and reflect on all that signifies. As in the
South 'as it was,' some of these girls are given curses, and even blows,
and even _kicks_; while others are special favorites either of 'the
boss,' or of some of his male subordinates, and dress well, pay four
dollars a week for board, and fare well generally--on a salary of three
dollars a week."

Is it a wonder that so many of the working women and girls of New York
glide into sin, with the hope of bettering their hard lot? And, when
thrown out of work, with no food or shelter, save what can be obtained by
begging or at the Station House, is it a wonder that they seek the
concert saloons, in sheer desperation, or join the street walkers on
Broadway?

But if the working woman has her persecutors, she has also her friends in
the great city. One of the best institutions which have been organized
for the protection and assistance of this class is the "Working Women's
Protective Union," the head-quarters of which are in Bleecker street, a
short distance east of Broadway. It is organized for the common benefit
of all those women who obtain a livelihood by other employments than
household services. It aids them:

"_First_. By securing legal protection from frauds and impositions free
of expense. _Second_. By appeals, respectfully but urgently made, to
employers for wages proportioned to the cost of living, and for such
shortening of the hours of labor as is due to health and the requirements
of household affairs. _Third_. By seeking new and appropriate spheres
of labor in departments not now occupied by them. _Fourth_. By
sustaining a registry system, through which those out of work may be
assisted in finding employment. _Fifth_. By appeals to the community at
large for that sympathy and support which is due to working women."

The members each contribute the sum of ten dollars annually to the
support of the institution. Outside aid is also liberally given. The
Union has done much good since its organization. It has compelled
dishonest employers to fulfil their contracts with their operatives, and
in one single week compelled the payment of the sum of three hundred and
twenty-five dollars, which had been withheld by these scoundrels. Out of
two hundred complaints against employers in a single year, it secured a
fair settlement of nearly two-thirds. In 1869 it procured work for 3379
women and girls. It also looks after friendless and homeless women who
seek its assistance, and helps them to secure employment.

[Picture: STEWART'S HOME FOR WORKING WOMEN.]

The "Home for Working Women," No. 45 Elizabeth street, is a massive brick
building, six stories high, and will accommodate about five hundred
boarders. It is supplied with a reading-room, a reception-room, a
parlor, a restaurant, and a laundry. The upper floors are used as
dormitories. The beds are neat and tidy, and are arranged in rows and
separated from each other by white screens. The rooms are large and well
ventilated, and the whole establishment is kept scrupulously clean and in
perfect order. One dollar and twenty-five cents is the charge for a
week's lodging and washing. The restaurant supplies meals of an
excellent quality at an average cost of twenty-five cents. Lodgers are
admitted until eleven o'clock at night at the price named. If they enter
after that hour, they are charged twenty-five cents extra.

The Children's Aid Society conducts several lodging-houses for girls, one
of which is located in Bleecker street, and the other at 27 St. Mark's
Place. They furnish beds and meals to girls of all ages, at five cents
each, while they have money, and give them for nothing where the
applicant is found to be destitute. They have been tolerably successful
thus far, and give promise of future usefulness.

There are several other associations, with similar objects, in operation
in the city.

Mr. A. T. Stewart is now erecting, on Fourth avenue, a magnificent iron
building, which is to be used as a "Home for Working Women." The
building extends along the avenue, from Thirty-second to Thirty-third
street, a distance of 192 feet, and has a depth of 205 feet. Including
the central Mansard roofs, the building is eight stories in height. It
is one of the finest edifices in the city, and will be provided with
every convenience for the work to which it is destined. It will be
capable of accommodating fifteen hundred boarders, and will be conducted
on a plan similar to that of the "Home for Working Women" in Elizabeth
street. It is not to be conducted as a charity. Each occupant is to pay
a fixed sum per week; and it is believed that here this sum will not
exceed two dollars a week for board, lodging, and washing.

LXXXII. STREET VENDERS.

It is not known how many stores, or places in which trade is conducted
beneath the shelter of a roof, the city contains. They are numerous, but
they are not sufficient for the wants of trade. The sellers overflow
them and spread out into the streets and by-ways, with no roof above them
but the blue sky. Some of these sellers are men, some women, and some
mere children. Some have large stationary stands, others roam about with
their wares in boxes, bags, or baskets in their hands. They sell all
manner of wares. Watches, jewelry, newspapers, fruits, tobacco, cigars,
candies, cakes, ice cream, lemonade, flowers, dogs, birds,--in short
everything that can be carried in the hand--are sold by the Street
Venders. The rich and the poor buy of them. The strolling vagrant picks
up his scanty breakfast at one of these stands, and the millionaire buys
an apple at another.

The eating and apple stands are mainly kept by women. The most of them
are Irishwomen, and the big cap and dirty frill under the quilted bonnet
are among the most common signs of such a stand. Some of these stands
sell soups, some oysters, some coffee and hot cakes, some ice cream, and
some merely fruits and apples. In Wall street they are kept by men, and
pies and cakes form the staple articles of trade. Candies and nuts are
sold exclusively by many. Such candies as are not to be had of any
confectioner in town. Women never sell cigars or tobacco, though many of
them never take their pipes from their mouths during business hours.
Some of them offer ladies' hose and gentlemen's socks, and suspenders,
yarns, worsted hoods, and gloves. A few women sell newspapers, but these
are rapidly giving way to men.

[Picture: STREET VENDERS.]

The newspaper stands are located principally on Broadway, in Wall street,
and around the Post Office and the ferries. At some of them only the
morning or evening journals are kept, but others offer all the weeklies
and the illustrated papers as well.

The venders of cheap neckties and pocket book straps are mostly boys or
very young men. They frequent the lower part of Broadway, which is also
the favorite haunt of the venders of cheap jewelry. Pocket books of
every description are sold at marvellously cheap prices, and photographs
are displayed in such lavish quantities that you feel sure that every
dealer in them has bankrupted himself in order to afford a free art
exhibition to the crowd of little ragamuffins gathered around him. Toys
of every contrivance adorn the stands above Canal street. The dealers in
these articles are strong, able-bodied men, who prefer to stand on the
side walks pulling the strings of a jumping jack, or making contortions
with a toy contrived for that purpose, to a more manly way of earning
their bread.

The balloon men, the penny whistle and pop gun dealers frequent the upper
streets, where they are apt to be seen by children. The lame soldier
sets up his stand anywhere, and deals principally in shoe strings,
neckties, or in books and papers that no one ever reads. Towards
Christmas large booths for the sale of toys are erected on some of the
east and west side streets, at which a thriving business in toys and
fire-works is carried on.

The Chinese candy and cigar sellers are to be found between the Astor
House and the South Ferry. No one ever seems to buy from them, but they
continue in the business, and thus afford proof positive that they have
their customers.

The dog and bird men haunt the neighborhood of the Astor House and St.
Nicholas hotels. They get high prices for their pets. Dogs sell
readily. It is the fashion in New York to discourage the increase of
families, and to attempt to satisfy the half-smothered maternal instinct
by petting these dumb creatures.

Little girls are numerous among the street venders. They sell matches,
tooth-picks, cigars, newspapers, songs and flowers. The flower-girls are
hideous little creatures, but their wares are beautiful and command a
ready sale. These are made into hand bouquets, and buttonhole bouquets,
and command from ten cents to several dollars each. When the day is wet
and gloomy, and the slush and the mud of Broadway are thick over
everything animate and inanimate, and the sensitive soul shrinks within
itself at the sight of so much discomfort, the flower-girls do a good
business. The flower-stands then constitute the most attractive objects
on the street, and men are irresistibly drawn to them by the sight of
their exquisite adornments. It is very pleasant at such times to have a
bright, fragrant nosegay in one's buttonhole, or to carry a bouquet to
one's home. On such days you may see hundreds of splashed and muddy men
on the great thoroughfare, utterly hopeless of preserving any outward
semblance of neatness, but each with his nosegay in his buttonhole; and
as he glances down at it, from time to time, you may see his weary face
soften and brighten, and an expression of cheerfulness steal over it,
which renders him proof against even the depressing influences of the mud
and the rain.

LXXXIII. THE WHARVES.

No visitor to New York should omit visiting the wharves of the North and
East rivers. A day may be profitably spent on the shore of each stream.
The docks do not compare favorably with the massive structures of
Liverpool, or London, or the other great seaports of the world. They are
wretched, half decayed and dirty; but ere long they are to be replaced
with a system of magnificent stone and iron piers, which will afford all
the desired facilities, and render New York in this respect one of the
best provided ports on the globe.

Beginning at the Battery on the North River side, we find first the pier
of the famous Camden and Amboy Railway Company, from which passengers and
freights are conveyed to the railway by steamer. Above this are the
piers of the great European steamship lines, the coast steamers, and the
steamboats plying between the city and the neighboring towns. The Boston
boats, all of which run to points in Connecticut and Rhode Island, where
they make connections with the railways to Boston, are fine steamers.
Those of the Narragansett Steamship Company, the Bristol and Providence
by name, are the most magnificent steamers in the world. They cost
$1,250,000 apiece. They are simply floating palaces, as are also the
Albany night boats. The foreign steamers are huge iron vessels, carrying
thousands of tons of freight and hundreds of passengers. The sailing of
one of these ships always draws a crowd to her pier, and though from five
to eight of them leave the port every week, the attraction still
continues.

The ferries to Jersey City and Hoboken are all located on this river, and
are full of interest to the stranger. The Bethel, or floating chapel for
seamen, is also worth visiting. The ice trade of the city is carried on
on this front, the principal supply of that article being obtained along
the river, about one hundred miles above the city.

[Picture: BOAT STORES.]

The oyster boats, or boat stores, are peculiar to New York. They lie
chiefly in the vicinity of Christopher street, and are sources of
considerable profit to their owners. The Hay Scales are also curious
objects. At the foot of Fifty-fourth street the numerous telegraph lines
which connect New York with the States south of it, cross the Hudson.
They gain the Jersey shore in the vicinity of the Elysian Fields at
Hoboken, and thence continue their way to every part of the States
mentioned.

The East River front is the terminus of the ferry lines to Brooklyn, Long
Island City, and Hunter's Point. The shipping here consists almost
entirely of sailing vessels. The craft plying between New York and the
New England towns have their stations here, and here also are the
California clippers. The huge Indiamen lie here receiving or discharging
cargo. The whole river front is covered with merchandise representing
the products of every land under the sun.

The Floating Docks are among the principal sights of the East River, as
are also the vast coal and ship yards. This stream will soon he spanned
by an immense suspension bridge which is to connect the City Hall in New
York with the City Hall in Brooklyn. The total length of the bridge and
its approaches is to be 5878 feet. The bridge is to rest on cables,
supported by massive stone towers at the water's edge on each side. The
span between these towers is to be 1616 feet. From each tower the
flooring is to be carried a further distance of 940 feet to the land
approaches. The New York approach is to be 1441 feet, and the Brooklyn
approach 941 feet in length. The approaches will, in some instances, be
on a level with the tops of the houses in the cities through which they
pass. The total height of the bridge above the tide is to be 268 feet.
The work is now progressing rapidly, and will be completed in about three
years.

Accidents are very common in every large port, but the peculiar
construction of the New York ferry houses renders the number of cases of
drowning doubly great. In order to guard against this, and to afford
timely assistance to persons in danger of drowning, "rescue stations"
have been established along the water front of the city. There is one at
each ferry house, and the others are located at the points where
accidents are most likely to occur. These stations are each provided
with a ladder of sufficient length to reach from the pier to the water at
low tide, with hooks at one end, by means of which it is attached firmly
to the pier; a boat hook fastened to a long pole; a life preserver or
float, and a coil of rope. These are merely deposited in a conspicuous
place. In case of accident, any one may use them for the purpose of
rescuing a person in danger of drowning, but at other times it is
punishable by law to interfere with them, or to remove them. The station
is in charge of the policeman attached to the "beat" in which it is
located, and he has the exclusive right in the absence of one of his
superior officers to direct all proceedings. At the same time, he is
required to comply strictly with the law regulating such service on his
part, and to render every assistance in his power. The law for the
government of persons using the "rescue apparatus" is posted
conspicuously by the side of the implements, as are also concise and
simple directions as to the best method of attempting to resuscitate
drowned persons. These stations have been of the greatest use since
their establishment, and reflect the highest credit upon those who
originated and introduced them.

LXXXIV. THE MORGUE.

There stands on the shore of the East River, at the foot of Twenty-sixth
street, a massive gray-stone building, known as Bellevue Hospital. Over
the lowest door of the front, on the upper side of Twenty-sixth street,
is a single word in gilt letters--MORGUE. This door marks the entrance
to the Dead House of New York, one of the most repulsive, but most
terribly fascinating places in the city. The place is named after the
famous dead house of Paris, and the interior is arranged in exact
imitation of it, except that it is smaller. It is a gloomy-looking
place, this Morgue, and it is always crowded. Bodies found in the
streets or in the harbor are brought here for identification. They are
kept a certain length of time, usually from twenty-four to forty-eight
hours, and if not claimed by relatives or friends, are buried at the
expense of the city. Every article of clothing, every trinket, or other
means of identification, found with a body, is carefully preserved, in
the hope that it may lead to a discovery of the cause of the death.

The room is gloomy and cell-like in appearance. It is about twenty feet
square. The floor is of brick tiles, and the walls are rough and heavy.
The apartment is divided into two unequal portions by a partition of
glass and iron. The smaller portion is used by the public. The
remainder is devoted to the purposes of the establishment. Back of the
glass screen are four stone tables on iron frames, each with its foot
towards the glass. Stretched on these are lifeless naked forms, each
covered with a sheet. A stream of cold water, from a movable jet, falls
over the lifeless face of each and trickles over the senseless forms,
warding off decay until the last moment, in the hope that some one to
whom the dead man or woman was dear in life will come and claim the body.
A vain hope, generally, for but few bodies are claimed. Nearly all go to
the potter's field.

[Picture: THE MORGUE.]

A fearful company, truly, as they lie there, cold and rigid, their
ghastly features lighted by the chilly gleams which fall from the windows
above. Here is the body of an infant, its little life of suffering over.
It was found in an ash barrel in an alley. On the next slab is the form
of a man who was evidently well to do in the world. He is a stranger to
the city, the Superintendent tells you, and dropped in the streets from
apoplexy. His friends will no doubt claim him before the day is over, as
the articles found on his person have established his identity. The next
table contains the body of a woman. She was young and must have been
fair. She was found in the river, and as there are no marks of violence
on her person, the presumption is that she sought her own destruction.
"Such cases are becoming common," says the Superintendent in his matter
of fact way. "They are very sad, but we see too many of them to think
them romantic." A shudder comes over you as you gaze at the ghastly
occupant of the last table. The dead man was evidently a gentleman, for
he bears every mark of a person of good position in life. His purple,
swollen features tell you plainly that he was taken from the river.
There is a deep wound in his side, and marks of violence are numerous
about his head and neck. You gaze at the Superintendent inquiringly, and
even that cool, clear-headed official turns a shade paler as he answers,
almost under his breath, "Murdered. For his money, doubtless."

On the walls back of the tables are suspended the clothing of the
unfortunates, and of others who have preceded them. Maybe some friend
will come along and recognize them, and the one who has been missing will
be traced to this sad place. They form a strange collection, but they
speak chiefly of poverty and suffering.

The dark waters of the rivers and bay send many an inmate to this gloomy
room. The harbor police, making their early morning rounds, find some
dark object floating in the waters. It is scarcely light enough to
distinguish it, but the men know well what it is. They are accustomed to
such things. They grapple it and tow it in silent horror past the long
lines of shipping, and pause only when the Morgue looms up coldly before
them in the uncertain light of the breaking day. The still form is
lifted out of the water, and carried swiftly into the gloomy building.
It is laid on the marble slab, stripped, covered with a sheet, the water
is turned on, and the room is deserted and silent again.

So many come here on their way to their long homes. The average number
is about two hundred per year. You can scarcely take up a city newspaper
without finding one or more advertisements of persons "lost." Many of
them come here. Many are never heard of again. The waters which
encompass the city keep well the secrets confided to them, and neither
the Morgue nor the Police books can tell the fate of all the missing.
Strangers visiting the city often venture into the chosen haunts of crime
"to see the sights," and in so doing place themselves in the power of the
most desperate and reckless villains. Human life is held so cheap here,
and murder has become such a profession, that no respectable person is
safe who ventures into these localities. You may often see at the
Morgue, where the majority of the bodies show marks of violence, the
lifeless forms of those who but a few days before left their pleasant
homes in other portions of the country to see the metropolis. A visit to
a concert saloon or a dance house, merely from what they consider the
most innocent curiosity, has sealed their doom. A glass of drugged
liquor has destroyed their power of self-protection, and even without
this they have been assaulted. They are helpless, and they have paid
with their lives the price of their "innocent curiosity." Then the River
and the Morgue complete the story; or perhaps the River keeps its secret,
and the dead man's name goes down on the long list of the missing.

Strangers, and all others who would see New York, should content
themselves with its innocent sights and amusements. Those who seek to
pass beneath the shadow willfully take their lives in their hands.

LXXXV. THE CUSTOM HOUSE.

The Custom House is one of the most prominent and interesting places in
New York. It is one of the largest in the country, and is provided with
every facility for the prompt despatch of the vast business transacted in
it. Five-sixths of all the duties on imports collected in the United
States are received here.

The Custom House building was formerly the Merchants' Exchange. It is
one of the handsomest structures in the city, and its purchase cost the
General Government one million of dollars in gold. The building is
constructed of solid granite, with a fine portico and colonnade in front.
If is fire-proof throughout. It occupies the entire block bounded by
Wall street, Exchange Place, William street, and Hanover street. Its
dimensions are a depth of two hundred feet, a frontage of one hundred and
forty-four feet, and a rear breadth of one hundred and seventy-one feet.
The top of the central dome is one hundred and twenty-four feet from the
ground. The main entrance is on Wall street, but there are entrances on
every side. The Rotunda occupies the space beneath the central dome, and
is one of the finest interiors in the country.

Within the Rotunda are arranged rows of desks, running parallel with the
walls. These are occupied by four "deputy collectors," three "chief
clerks," five "entry clerks," two "bond clerks," the "foreign clearance
clerk" and his assistant, and by those whose duties bring them most
commonly in contact with the merchants, shippers, commanders of vessels,
etc., in the ordinary routine of the business of the port. The Collector
and the higher officials have handsome offices in other parts of the
building.