One of Them 
 
One of Them 
 
 Chapters from 
 A Passionate Autobiography 
 
 BY 
 ELIZABETH HASANOVITZ 
 
 Tc&mfiiHttZ} 
 
 Boston and New York 
 HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
 

 c^ v 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1917 AND 1918, BY THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY COMPANY 
 COPYRIGHT, I918, BY ELIZABETH HASANOVITZ 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
 Published August iqi8 
 
To the memory of 
 ROBERT G. VALENTINE 
 
 who extended a brotherly hand to me and 
 
 whose wish to send to the world a message 
 
 from thousands of us I fulfill with gratitude 
 
 and to 
 
 S. S. POLAKOFF 
 
 my teacher and brother in struggle 
 
 30 
 

 ONE OF THEM 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 SUNK in despondency, I had forgotten every- 
 thing, my surroundings, the hall where the 
 Dramatic Club was meeting, the members of the 
 club, all had vanished in my misery. 
 
 "Are you asleep?" 
 
 I jumped up. Near me stood Clara, one of the 
 members of the club, who had always shown a 
 friendly interest in me. She recalled me with a 
 start to the present. I was sitting in a dark, low- 
 ceilinged hall, the shelter of our Dramatic Club. 
 Slowly and monotonously the rehearsal had gone; 
 the director, his body reeking with sweat, had re- 
 peated to the tenth time the act which failed to 
 please him. 
 
 The object of the club was to acquaint the Yid- 
 dish public of the East Side of New York with lit- 
 erary dramas, to encourage a better understanding 
 of literature than they could gain from the Yiddish 
 theatres, which usually fed their patrons with the 
 trash common in the theatrical world. The best 
 dramas of Ibsen, Hauptmann, Sudermann, and 
 other modern writers were translated into Yiddish 
 and produced in that small hall by a few idealists 
 
2 One of Them 
 
 who devoted all their spare time and sacrificed a 
 great deal of their earnings for the creation of a 
 literary folk-theatre. 
 
 That evening the last rehearsal for the next day's 
 performance had taken place. Confused and puz- 
 zled, I had sat through the rehearsal. The poor 
 light in the hall had brought the ceiling still lower, 
 making me sink in deeper despair. Was the play 
 interesting or not, the acting good or bad? I did 
 not see. Where was my enthusiasm gone? What 
 was nagging me so dreadfully? 
 
 My mind wandered in dark confusion. Uncon- 
 sciously, my hand digging in my pocket crumpled 
 a small piece of paper. What was it? 
 
 Oh, yes, a two-dollar bill! And the enlighten- 
 ment came: my only two dollars all my precious 
 wealth! 
 
 Over me swept the past nine weeks weeks of 
 weary, never-ending search for work. Each day 
 rising with new hope, looking over the advertise- 
 ments, running from place to place, all fruitless, 
 until, broken with fatigue, I would return home, 
 throw myself on the bed, and spend the rest of the 
 day in the stupor of despair, apathetically gazing 
 at the ceiling. 
 
 Most of the advertisements wanted skilled 
 "hands"; others were four-dollar jobs with little 
 chance for advancement. M y self-respect woul d 
 not permit me to slave for four dollars a week. 
 
After a Year of Struggle 3 
 
 Nine long, long weeks I looked in vain for a place 
 where I could learn some trade that would in the 
 end pay me more. After a long year of struggle, 
 here I stood more helpless than the day of my ar- 
 rival in America. 
 
 Why had I come to America? What had I ac- 
 complished by that historic change in my life? 
 
 From the dark brooding that made me uncon- 
 scious of my surroundings, I was recalled by 
 Clara's kindly voice. The lights were all out, the 
 people all gone. 
 
 "Wake up, kid, wake up! It's time to go home. 
 You do not mind if I walk home with you?" 
 
 I looked up at her as if I saw her for the first 
 time. A face full of wrinkles, a cut on the lower 
 Up, big, inflamed eyes that looked at me smilingly; 
 a face that I had never liked before looked much 
 pleasanter to me now. 
 
 "Why, yes, I shall be glad," I said. 
 
 Down we climbed the dark, dirty, creaking stair- 
 case, tracing our way along Orchard Street a 
 small, dirty thoroughfare crowded with push-carts 
 and people. The noise of the elevated trains on 
 Allen Street was deafening, but above the din was 
 a greater noise than usual. Bells were ringing, 
 whistles blowing, the air was full of merriment and 
 joy. Young girls and boys holding feather dusters 
 dipped in some ill-smelling powder or charcoal, 
 smeared the faces of the people as they passed by. 
 
4 One of Them 
 
 "New Year's Eve! New Year's Eve!" Clara ex- 
 claimed joyfully, infected by the merriment of 
 those around her. 
 
 To me it was annoying. Could not people enjoy 
 themselves more intelligently? On New Year's 
 Eve in Russia, the peasants usually get drunk and 
 often break the windows of the Yiddish dwellings. 
 Here the young folks were running around scream- 
 ing like wild animals, tormenting the passers-by. 
 
 "You are moody to-night. Cheer up, kid; your 
 boats are not all sunk, are they?" 
 
 She was amazed to see me in such a mood, for 
 by nature I was a joyous person and among my 
 friends I made myself very merry, often being 
 the ringleader in all the fun, so that my sufferings 
 for the last nine weeks were not known to any 
 one. 
 
 "I think they are, Clara," I answered, clutching 
 my two-dollar bill which so painfully reminded me 
 of my situation. 
 
 Her efforts to start a conversation were not suc- 
 cessful. I was too tired and discouraged to speak, 
 and silently we reached my door. After wishing 
 each other good-night and a Happy New Year, I 
 climbed up the dark, dirty stairway to the fourth 
 floor and opened the door into a cold, unfriendly 
 room. An old couch, two chairs, a broken white 
 table, and an old, one-time-white dresser furnished 
 the small room. The only window faced a narrow 
 
Homesickness 5 
 
 court that never allowed the sunlight to break into 
 my room. My room-mate was absent. I lit the 
 gas. 
 
 Lonely and homesick, I paced back and forth 
 from one corner to another, my mind painfully 
 wandering far, far away to my home, now clad in 
 silver white. 
 
 H r-^r roph, h r-r roph, h r-^r 
 roph, h r-r roph I 
 
 Oh, those sickening sounds from my snoring 
 neighbors! From the windows crowded round the 
 air-shaft they came into my room, driving me al- 
 most to distraction. For two months that snoring 
 discord disturbed my peace, irritated my nerves, 
 and kept me awake through the night. 
 
 The city clock slowly struck twelve. The New 
 Year had come. More bells ringing, cheerful 
 voices greeting: "Happy New Year! Happy New 
 Year!" came faintly above the other sounds to my 
 room. What had the past year brought to me? 
 And what will the New Year bring? Like a curse 
 the wishes rang in my ears. 
 
 Everything began to mingle before me. All the 
 scenes and experiences of the past year chased 
 through my brain: my home, Russia with its per- 
 secutions, my departure, my journey, my arrival 
 in America, the factory in Canada where I worked 
 first, my arrival in New York, five weeks of work in 
 a factory in New York, and then the nine weeks 
 
6 One of Them 
 
 of searching for work. The memories crowded my 
 brain and numbed me with their hopelessness. 
 
 Home, home! How I wished to be there, in 
 that spacious living-room with its four windows all 
 opening on the street; at that long table with the 
 older children around it, busy at their tasks; mother 
 seated near the brick oven, bending over a box- 
 ful of goose feathers, separating the down, pre- 
 paring pillows for her daughters' future homes; 
 all awaiting father's return, who after the hard 
 day's work in his school gave private lessons in the 
 evening in order to keep up his "small" family. 
 The younger children playing joyfully on the floor, 
 delighted to play tricks on us, calling, from time 
 to time, "There is father!" and laughing gleefully 
 when they succeeded in making us raise our heads, 
 in vain, to greet our self-sacrificing bread-winner. 
 /Home! To be back in that warm home under 
 / mother's devoted caresses; to be sitting with father 
 like a true comrade, discussing with him new plans 
 and methods for the success of our school. 
 
 My father was a Hebrew teacher. As only a 
 small proportion of Jews could gain admission into 
 Russian educational institutions, Russian was 
 taught in the Hebrew schools, but secretly, because 
 the Jews were not allowed to teach it without a 
 special license, which they could seldom get. My 
 own small school of girls was also without a license. 
 ; , I had received my education from private 
 
Education in Russia 7 
 
 teachers because I had never been able to get a 
 chance to attend the Russian schools. Jews are 
 permitted to form only five per cent of the total 
 enrollment of pupils in the public and high schools 
 and a decreasing percentage in the higher institu- 
 tions. Once, when I was ready to pass my examina- 
 tion, my application was rejected because the list 
 of possible applicants was full. The second time 
 the examination was made so difficult that out of 
 sixty girls only fourteen passed, nine Russian and 
 five Yiddish. The rest, all Yiddish girls, failed. 
 Questions absolutely out of the course were put 
 to us. The majority of us knew the prescribed 
 course thoroughly because we were aware of the 
 difficulties the Government created for Jewish 
 students and were prepared for them. Still, we 
 failed. 
 
 Those long years of struggle for art education! 
 At fourteen I was already giving lessons to begin- 
 ners so as to earn money to pay for my books and 
 teachers that I might be less a burden to my father. 
 His highest ambition was to see me get my teacher's 
 diploma, so that we could open a licensed school and 
 stop paying graft to the chief of police, who threat- 
 ened us continually. Many times the chief and 
 his guards would disturb us in the middle of the day, 
 interrupting our work and frightening the children, 
 who feared the uniforms as if they concealed devils, 
 and who were thrown into frenzy at their approach. 
 
8 One of Them 
 
 Ghostly pale and shivering as if from a Siberian 
 frost, the children would hastily rid their portfolios 
 of all Russian books and papers, which they would 
 pile together and send flying, pile after pile, across 
 the room and into the cellar, that splendid hiding- 
 place for the crime of stealing a Russian education ! 
 After such a visit the rest of the day was spent in 
 the difficult task of assorting the books and papers 
 for their frightened little owners. Each visit of 
 that kind meant a precious twenty-five dollar bill. 
 My father had paid fines several times for my school 
 because I was under age; and even with a diploma, 
 I could not teach until I was twenty-one, so that 
 my father bore all the responsibility. 
 
 With my second failure to obtain a diploma, all 
 our hopes, cherished for so many years, began to 
 vanish. The chief of police assailed us more fre- 
 quently; we were less and less able to fill up his 
 bottomless pocket. After each visit days of misery 
 followed. Many, many times my father and I sat 
 through the night, thinking and thinking how to 
 better our condition, what future to provide for 
 my brothers and sisters. Nothing could be done. 
 Members of the human family, people with brains 
 and ambition, we were not citizens; we were chil- 
 dren of the cursed Pale, with our rights limited, the 
 districts in which we could live and the trades and 
 professions we could follow, all prescribed for us. 
 What would become of us? What could we expect? 
 
Within the Pale 9 
 
 Fight for liberty, for equal rights? The persecution 
 was so terrible for one free word one found a 
 home in prison. 
 
 "Oh, father, it is suicidal," I would often say. ' 
 
 He would sit downcast, as if guilty for giving life 
 to his children, whose fate like his was to live within 
 the Pale, to be in the hands of the Government 
 dogs, to fear the least drunken moujik who, in- 
 fluenced by the priests, would so often make a 
 sudden attack on the property and sometimes lives 
 of the Yiddish people. They said that they con- 
 sidered it a virtue to rob and kill the enemies of 
 Christ. 
 
 Freedom, freedom! 
 
 Freedom, I wanted. 
 
 "Father," I once said when the family was 
 seated around the table ready for the Sabbath meal, 
 "father, I have been thinking of myself and 
 of you all, thinking hard for the last three weeks. 
 What will become of me, and of all of us, if we 
 remain in this hole? The future appears so dark 
 to me. I have been thinking, and I have decided 
 that that I shall go to America." 
 
 Thunderstruck by my last words, they all looked 
 at me. The first to break the silence was my 
 mother. 
 
 "Are you mad? A young girl alone in a far 
 country?" She trembled, tears flowing from her 
 eyes, feeling hurt that I should think of leaving 
 
10 One of Them 
 
 home. Father sat silent, his head hidden in his 
 hands. The youngsters were crying with mother. 
 
 "Never let me hear that nonsense again!" 
 
 "But, mother, I shall go finally. I do not want 
 to waste my life. I am tired of being condemned to 
 eternal limitations. I want to be free. I shall go 
 to Am erica a free country, where everybody ffe ts 
 free education. Imagine, mother, free education! 
 1 shall earn my living and study in the free evening 
 schools and when I establish firm ground under 
 my feet, I shall help you and father and the chil- 
 dren. Think of the children going to free schools, 
 growing up to be free citizens ! " 
 
 My mother would not listen. Nor would my 
 father. Except for my younger brother, I had no 
 one's approval. But my determination was strong 
 and the fight began. 
 
 For many days my mother's tears would not dry. 
 She would picture to me all the hardships in a far 
 country. 
 
 "No matter how bitter life is here, still there is 
 no place like home. What will become of you there 
 a working-girl?" 
 
 /My mother could not tolerate the idea that I 
 might become a working-girl. The tradition of a 
 
 \ respectable family in our town, no matter how poor, 
 was to keep their daughters at home. The only 
 occupation for girls was either dressmaking or do- 
 mestic service the latter being very degrading 
 
A Hunger Strike 11 
 
 because of its surroundings, and working-girls were 
 recruited only from the poorest people. 
 
 Teaching, to my mother, was something divinely 
 noble, and could have no relation to the prosaic 
 term, "work." 
 
 "There will be no one to look after you," she 
 would continue. "I shall live in constant anxiety. 
 I shall not sleep nights thinking that you may not 
 have a warm place to sleep, that you may not have 
 your meals regularly, your laundry done, nor your 
 clothes mended." 
 
 Poor mother! Her sensitive heart perceived in 
 advance all the misery that life had prepared for me 
 when I found myself on the other side of the globe. 
 
 "But, mother, I am no more a baby. I have 
 passed eighteen and am big enough to take care 
 of myself wherever I am." 
 
 "Think of mother and me," father would say. 
 "What will become of us? Do you realize what it 
 means to part with a child? In sorrow or in glad- 
 ness, we must all be together." 
 
 Not succeeding in persuading me to remain, father 
 declared that he would not endorse my passport, 
 and without his consent I could not leave Russia. 
 
 Weeks passed. I failed in getting their consent. 
 
 As a last resort, I tried a hunger strike. 
 
 When after three days of hunger, tired and 
 weakened, I still refused to eat, father brought 
 me the passport. 
 
12 One of Them 
 
 Then preparations began. Sewing and packing, 
 all dipped in mother's tears. 
 
 Then the day of my departure, that forever 
 memorable day! Mother fainting, the children 
 crying, father walking sadly back and forth across 
 the living-room, the house full of neighbors who had 
 come to say good-bye, my pupils with flowers to 
 wish me well. When I was seated in the stage- 
 coach my father jumped up, clutched me in his 
 arms, and bit rather than kissed my cheek. That 
 last scream from my mother's wounded heart as 
 the stage moved off still rings in my ears. A scream 
 from a heart torn, it may be forever, from its dear- 
 est and best beloved! 
 
 All I left behind me with regret and yet with no 
 regret. 
 
 Then the weary days on the train. The third- 
 class coach in which I rode was divided into sec- 
 tions; each section with eight hard benches, four 
 upper and four lower; each bench planned for two 
 passengers to sit, but no place to sleep. During 
 those three days until we reached the seaport, we 
 slept sitting or leaning on our luggage. The great 
 unwashed mass who had occupied these benches 
 before us, sleeping in their clothes and often in 
 their kojuck, 1 had left countless insects behind 
 them, who made our lives miserable. My clothes 
 
 1 Kojuck is a loose gathered overcoat lined with lamb skin a 
 splendid hiding-place for all sorts of vermin. 
 
An Immigrant 13 
 
 were full of vermin when I arrived at Libau. I im- 
 mediately found a bath-house and cleansed myself 
 from the parasites, but the immigration houses 
 where we stopped were equally infested. Immi- 
 grants are treated worse than prisoners, not only 
 in Russia, but also in England. We were driven 
 from one bad place to another still worse. In Lon- 
 don, our baggage was opened, our clothes thrown 
 carelessly together with those of the other passen- 
 gers to be disinfected by steam, then replaced in 
 our trunks, all rolled up and wet. My things were 
 so mussed that I had not even a clean shirt-waist 
 fit to wear on the voyage. The food in the immi- 
 gration houses was not fit for animals, but we were 
 only immigrants. 
 
 On the steamer we travelled steerage to Canada, 
 together with unwashed Russian peasants and a 
 little cleaner German ones. We a girl friend and 
 myself were lost among them, like two little 
 wrens in a flock of crows. 
 
 It was impossible to sit with them at the table. 
 Not used to knives and forks they would dip their 
 soiled hands into the platter and grab the food, 
 stuffing their mouths, chewing with relish and 
 making a noise that reminded us of pigs around a 
 full trough. We begged the interpreter to bring us 
 some food to our rooms, but he said it was against 
 the rules. For two days I took nothing but a glass 
 of tea, and we spent most of our time on deck. 
 
14 One of Them 
 
 On the third day I became seasick and did not 
 leave my berth for four days. Our repeated appeal 
 for food in our rooms was always met with the 
 laconic reply, "Them orders is orders you can't 
 get anything in your rooms." I should have starved 
 had not a gentle Englishman from the third class 
 brought me an orange occasionally. With his help 
 we tipped the interpreter and the porter and 
 "them orders is orders" was forgotten: we had our 
 food in our room. On the seventh day I recovered 
 and spent the remaining seven days on deck or 
 in the third class with the English people, they 
 were all British in the third class, who arranged 
 concerts each evening at which we sang. 
 
 Two hours before we arrived at Quebec we were 
 held up by quarantine officers. A man in the steer- 
 age had contracted typhoid fever, and all the pas- 
 sengers in the steerage and third class were kept 
 in quarantine for another two weeks, held prisoners 
 on a small island in the St. Lawrence and fed with 
 meat filled with worms. 
 
 These experiences also I left behind me, and took 
 my first step on the other side of the globe from 
 home, full of hope and ready to endure against 
 anything^and everything. 
 
 In Canada I was fairly prosperous, but I chafed 
 at the provincialism of its mental atmosphere. My 
 restless mind sought something to interest me, to 
 >Jnspire me, to absorb me. 
 
Arrival in New York 15 
 
 My second stop, Chicago, was also unsatisfac- 
 tory, and I decided to try the much-feared New 
 York. 
 
 " New York, the devil's nest ! " How people tried 
 to warn me, tried to keep me back! 
 
 "A girl with no trade, no relations, will soon get 
 lost. Youth and beauty fade there so quickly," 
 they would say. 
 
 If my people could not keep me from coming to 
 America, strangers surely could not keep me from 
 coming to New York. 
 
 So the last week of September, 1912, I arrived 
 in New York, with eight dollars in my pocket and 
 just one address, given me by the Socialist-Terri- 
 torialist Party to their New York headquarters. 
 
 In truth, I was full of fear all the way, a girl all 
 alone in New York, not knowing the language. 
 
 "Nonsense, I am old enough to take care of 
 myself." I tried to quiet my fears as I had tried 
 to quiet my mother's. 
 
 When I stepped out of the train at the Grand 
 Central Station, not then completed, a few middle- 
 aged ladies, travellers' guides from the Y.W.C.A., 
 stopped me, asking me if I wished assistance. 
 But not knowing who they were, I looked at them 
 with distrust. 
 
 I went out on the street with my heavy suit- 
 case, making my way among the various porters, 
 who offered their assistance, and, seeing my look 
 
16 One of Them 
 
 of suspicion, showed me their badges to reas- 
 sure me. But I went to a policeman, who put 
 me on a street-car, and I found the office on 
 Delancy Street, where members of the staff re- 
 ceived me kindly. 
 
 Luckily, I found a job in Brooklyn, in a knitting 
 factory, to sew pockets on sweaters the same 
 work I had done in Canada. It was the height of 
 the season. Ten dollars a week was considered 
 good pay. 
 
 I found a room on Eighth Street; also a room- 
 mate. I managed to live on five dollars a week 
 one dollar for my share of the room rent, three 
 dollars for food, and one dollar for general ex- 
 penses. The other five I began to save. I wanted 
 to save enough to buy a ticket for my brother so 
 that he might come, and together we might bring 
 the rest of the family. 
 
 All went smoothly. I joined the Dramatic Club, 
 satisfying one of my first ambitions to act. 
 Lectures, readings, all were open to me. 
 
 The only thing that bothered me was my shop. 
 It was so different from those in which I had 
 worked before. The atmosphere seemed so com- 
 mon and vulgar. In Canada I had worked with 
 girls whose language I had not understood, while 
 here I worked with Yiddish girls. Their frankness 
 in manner and speech often made me blush and 
 they would tease me. The forelady, an old, shriv- 
 
The Knitting Factory 17 
 
 elled scold, would display her set of gold teeth as 
 she said: "Looks as if you were only yesterday 
 out of short skirts. H'm! H'm! Still waters run 
 deep." And she would follow me with a hateful 
 look, for the foreman treated me respectfully and 
 she envied me. 
 
 "Say, how long do you work in a factory?" she 
 once asked me. 
 
 "Only a few months," I answered. 
 
 "And I am working in this place for eight years, 
 and I worked two years before I came here. H'm ! 
 I guess you'll not work so long, Sugar Face ! You '11 
 get a feller and be married soon." 
 
 I looked at her. To work in that place for ten 
 years, fifty-four hours a week, with only half an 
 hour for lunch, inhale the dust from the wool, put 
 a set of gold teeth in my mouth, and shrivel as she 
 had I thought, if I could not do better than that 
 I would choose to die. But I had my hopes, my 
 plans for the future not the hope of getting mar- 
 ried, but the hope of obtaining a profession, the 
 hope of doing something worth while, hopes unex- 
 plainable, but so promising! 
 
 "No," I said, "I would never work so long." 
 
 She misunderstood me. "Oh, I kind o' thought so 
 from the minute you came into the shop. Is not 
 the foreman a nice feller, my Sugar Face?" she 
 added ironically and walked away! 
 
 I had no time to pay attention to such remarks. 
 
18 One of Them 
 
 Nothing existed for me but the pursuits to which 
 I gave my evenings. From my entrance into the 
 shop in the morning, I waited for the clock to strike 
 six, when I could leave the place and all in it be- 
 hind me. Eating my dinner in a hurry, I would 
 hasten to the Dramatic Club or some other place 
 where I found companionship with pedple who had 
 similar interests. 
 
 Five weeks passed, five happy weeks. I had al- 
 ready twenty-five dollars saved. My constant 
 thought was, "I shall soon be able to buy a ticket 
 and send for my brother." 
 
 But fate decided differently. On Monday of my 
 sixth week, when I came into the shop the fore- 
 lady came over to me and announced: "It has 
 got slow, Sugar Face! there will be no work for 
 you. But what do you care for work?" she added 
 laughingly. 
 
 She left me with no further explanation. I went 
 over to the foreman to ask for a reason. He ex- 
 plained to me that it had turned slow and the boss 
 kept only the quickest and cheapest hands, and 
 the forelady was the one to select the fittest. 
 
 So I unexpectedly lost my job. What was I to do 
 now? 
 
 With my lunch of two buttered rolls in my hands, 
 I returned home. 
 
 New York with its slack season, New York and 
 
Looking for Work Again 19 
 
 starvation stared me in the face. But I refused to 
 be discouraged. I had come to New York with eight 
 dollars in my pocket. Now I had twenty-five. Am 
 I not better off now? Did I not prepare myself to 
 face the worst, to fight patiently? With a wealth 
 of twenty-five dollars I should not starve. I quickly 
 sat down to plan my expenditure, including my 
 food allowance, for the following weeks. 
 
 Car fare 60 cents 
 
 Newspapers 6 
 
 Bread 25 
 
 Butter 20 
 
 Beans 14 
 
 Milk 20 
 
 Sugar 7 
 
 Total $L52 
 
 Plus $1.00 for room rent, $2.52 per week, subject 
 to change as soon as I should find work. 
 
 The next thing was to decide what to look for. 
 I knew no trade, and the season on sweaters would 
 not begin for some time. I bought a paper and 
 looked through the advertisements. It was too late 
 to go out to look for a job that day, so I sat at home, 
 reading. 
 
 My room-mate, a young Russian woman of 
 twenty-five, worked on dresses at that time. She 
 advised me to learn the dressmaking trade as the 
 workers had begun to organize themselves seriously 
 into a union and expected to better their conditions 
 
20 One of Them 
 
 the coming season. Although living so close to- 
 gether, we had little in common. She was five years 
 older than I and the hard life she led made her look 
 sceptically at me and my optimistic views. Her hus- 
 band in an insane asylum, her two children sent 
 back to Russia to be in her old mother's care, she 
 lived alone, separated from all her nearest and 
 dearest. In her intense loneliness she sought f orget- 
 fulness in almost anything that would distract her 
 thoughts and give her a passing pleasure. While I, 
 young and ambitious, full of hope, was absorbed in 
 different interests, and so our lives passed in differ- 
 ent ways. 
 
 The next day I began to look for work. Day in, 
 day out, I travelled the city from north to south, 
 from east to west, in search of work. I answered 
 all the advertisements, but in vain. I could find 
 no job at dresses, because in the slack time no 
 learners were taken. In general, learners found it 
 hard to enter a trade. I tried straw hats, the 
 papers were full of advertisements for workers in 
 that trade, but I would have to pay twenty-five 
 dollars and work for a month without pay in order 
 to learn that trade. Flowers, corset-box making, 
 everything I tried, and as the weeks passed, my 
 courage lessened with each vanishing dollar. 
 I And so more than a year had passed since I left 
 home. Without English, with no relatives, I fought 
 my battles bitterly. Now, on New Year's Eve, I 
 
New Year's Eve 21 
 
 had two dollars in my pocket, two dollars between 
 me and starvation! 
 
 Tired, my head aching from the memories so 
 vividly appearing before me, rushing so poignantly 
 through my brain, I fell into restless sleep. 
 
CHAPTER n 
 
 LATE the next morning, my room-mate woke 
 me up. 
 
 "A friend is asking for you, Lisa," she said. 
 
 And in walked Clara with her familiar 
 
 "Hello, kiddo! Get up quick, we must be at the 
 club at eleven." 
 
 In a few minutes I was dressed and we went off. 
 I could not understand what made her come for me. 
 She had never visited me before. 
 
 "Are you out of work for a long time? " she asked 
 as we walked together. 
 
 I told her all about my troubles, omitting to 
 mention my two-dollar bill, all that was left to me 
 for the indefinite future. 
 
 At the club the members were all there; those 
 who were not acting were watching the others re- 
 hearse. Clara had the part of mother in the play 
 being rehearsed. She usually played the mother's 
 part in all the performances of the club and she 
 was very good in her portrayals. Impatiently I 
 waited until the rehearsal was over, when again 
 Clara clung to me, insisting that I should go home 
 and have dinner with her. I suspected that she 
 might have guessed my situation and refused, 
 
The Sweat-Shops 23 
 
 but she insisted, so that, in the end, I went with 
 her. 
 
 On the street she bought a newspaper, quickly 
 opened it, glanced through it, and exclaimed de- 
 lightedly: 
 
 "Listen here over fifty thousand girls in the 
 ladies' garments trade, ready to walk out of the 
 shops at the first call of their union, and strike for 
 better conditions." She paused, then said: "I am 
 ten years in the trade, and believe me, I had the 
 time of my life working in those sweat-shops ! For 
 years we have tried to organize ourselves, but we 
 were only a few in the field. It was hard to get the 
 workers to understand the conditions in which they 
 worked. Our last general strike that was called in 
 1909 was lost, and, mind you, the girls who worked 
 in the worst sweat-shops did not go out; they were 
 scabbing on us." 
 
 "What means a sweat-shop, Clara?" I inter- 
 rupted her. 
 
 "Why, don't you know?" She looked at me in 
 surprise. "The shops in which they work sometimes 
 from fifty-six to sixty hours a week, in dark, dirty 
 places, for terribly small wages, and treated awful ! 
 Those are the sweat-shops. Very often I used to be 
 thrown out from shops just because I tried to agi- 
 tate the girls against such conditions. And now, at 
 last, we are getting them all, even the underwear 
 and the kimono makers, those who were the worst- 
 
24 One of Them 
 
 paid and worst-treated girls, often being compelled 
 to pay for the use of the machines, pay for needles, 
 electric power, and even for machine oil." 
 
 She went on telling of the struggles they had 
 gone through; of the strikes; how the bosses hired 
 gangsters to protect scabs; how she once caught a 
 scab and, not being able to induce her to stop scab- 
 bing, beat her up so that she was afraid to go to 
 work the next day. 
 
 "I assure you, I had not the heart to do it, but I 
 could stand it no longer. We were striking for sev- 
 eral weeks and many of our girls were nearly 
 starved. Some were severely beaten up by the 
 gangsters, and when that girl, after hearing our 
 pleas, burst into laughter in our faces, I lost con- 
 trol. But I was so sorry afterwards that for days 
 I walked around like one who had committed a 
 crime," she concluded in her simple, frank, unpre- 
 tentious language. 
 
 I studied her as she walked. Her face, bearing all 
 the imprints of long, hard work, was in strong con- 
 trast to her heart, so childishly naive, so enthusi- 
 astic, so full of life. Just for a bit of joy, she was 
 ready to forgive the world all the wrongs it had 
 done to her. 
 
 ' The club was her only solace. A child of poor 
 Galicia, having hardly any education, working 
 since she was ten years old, she zealously strove for 
 education in the evenings. Soul-hunger for beauty, 
 
Clara 25 
 
 for art, for good literature, brought her to the 
 club, to which she willingly gave her time and her 
 money that she might help to keep it up, to build a 
 temple of art which might help educate those who 
 were so brutally deprived of education, as she had 
 been. It was in that work that she found expres- 
 sion for her beautiful desires and rest from the 
 monotonous prosaic life she lived amid the sordid 
 surroundings of the crowded East Side. My admi- 
 ration for her grew more and more as we continued 
 to walk. 
 
 Into a dark hall on Avenue B Clara led me. On 
 the third floor we stopped. The door was opened to 
 us by Clara's mother, a tired-out, elderly woman of 
 fifty. She seemed to have expected me, for the table 
 was set for two, and the rest of the family, having 
 had their dinner, were all gone. 
 
 From the attention paid to me by Clara's mother, 
 I understood that Clara must have spoken to her 
 about me. The thought that Clara might have in- 
 vited me, su specting that I was in need, ins ulted 
 mg. I sat awkwardly at the table and choked with 
 each mouthful of food. 
 
 "Try this little cake, you will surely like it. Take 
 this too: it's all home-made," her mother kept on, 
 insisting on helping me to the various delicious 
 cakes. "Home-made" echoed painfully in my ears. 
 I had not had a real home-made meal for so many 
 days. Those home-made meals I used to get in a 
 
26 One of Them 
 
 private family when I had money to pay for them 
 were only "made" for the money I paid. 
 
 The meal prepared by a mother to suit the tastes 
 of her children, I had so longed for. It was the 
 mother's touch that was lacking in the boarding- 
 house meals. 
 
 I watched Clara. She certainly had a good ap- 
 petite and consumed one thing after another, not 
 fearing that the "mistress" will, perhaps, watch 
 her, thinking that she eats more than her board- 
 money pays for. 
 
 "Are you not happy to have your mother and 
 folks with you? It must be wonderful to be to- 
 gether!" I exclaimed longingly. 
 
 "I should say so," Clara answered self -content- 
 edly. And then, looking up at her mother, her face 
 suddenly changed its expression and she turned her 
 head away and heaved a great sigh, much to my 
 amazement. 
 
 After dinner we went into the parlor, furnished 
 with some second-hand chairs, a few art postals 
 on the walls, and some cheap statuettes of Bee- 
 thoven and Mozart on the imitation marble 
 mantelpiece. 
 
 Our conversation again turned on the coming 
 strike. 
 
 " I think that the best plan for you is to learn the 
 dressmaking. True, it will take you some time and 
 you cannot make much money while learning, but 
 
To Learn Dressmaking 27 
 
 you will, at least, have a trade in the end. Without 
 a trade you will very often not find work even in 
 the busiest season." 
 
 I agreed with her, but how was I to find a place 
 to learn? 
 
 "Now, let's see Mr. N." she mentioned 
 the name of a member of our club "keeps a 
 small dress-shop and I am sure that he '11 take you 
 in when I speak to him." 
 
 "Is he really a manufacturer?" I exclaimed, a 
 ray of hope creeping into my heart. "Why, I 
 am sure that he will take me in!" 
 
 I was a little surprised to have a real "boss" a 
 member of our club. 
 
 The very same evening we spoke to Mr. N. and, 
 oh, wonder of wonders, he told me to come the next 
 morning. 
 
 At six o'clock I was up, impatiently waiting for 
 the clock to strike eight. 
 
 At the door of the shop I met a gentleman, some- 
 what resembling my Mr. N., but older, who asked 
 me whom I wished to see. 
 
 "I am to see Mr. N. He told me to come this 
 morning. He he wants to give me a job 
 on dresses." 
 
 I trembled, discouraged by his surprised, dis- 
 pleased look. 
 
 "You mean my brother. Well, I don't think we 
 need any help; the season has not yet begun." 
 
28 One of Them 
 
 Like one who had suddenly had cold water 
 poured over her, I was chilled by his last words. 
 
 "You see, Mr. N., I am only to learn the trade, 
 so that it does not matter whether it is busy or not. 
 I may learn something till the season starts and 
 be able to earn some money then." 
 
 My appealing voice must have impressed him. 
 He opened the door and told me to come in and 
 wait for his brother. It was a very light, clean, 
 little shop, with two rows of tables, ten machines 
 on each one, one long cutting-table, and one 
 table with a pressing-board. 
 
 A little after eight two girls with dark complex- 
 ions walked in and, looking at me with curiosity, 
 they turned to Mr. N. questioningly. The latter 
 told them that I was waiting for his brother. 
 
 At half -past eight, that half -hour stretching like 
 a century, the younger Mr. N. came in. Greeting 
 me familiarly, he introduced me to his brother 
 and the two girls, who were his sisters, and who 
 already sat at their machines, increasing their 
 speed by singing a merry Russian song. 
 
 "We are here our own family. There are two 
 more of our intimate friends working with us, two 
 Italian finishers, and one presser that is our 
 staff. I do the cutting, my brother the designing, 
 and so we are all working hard for our living," Mr. 
 N. concluded smilingly; and bringing a bundle to 
 me, he asked his sister to instruct me. 
 
First Lesson 29 
 
 "Do you speak Russian?" she inquired as she 
 bent over me to show me what to do. 
 
 "Why, yes," I answered. 
 
 "Oh, is that so!" she said, pleased with my 
 answer and began in a fluent but ungrammatical 
 Russian to cross-question me: Where did I come 
 from? What did I do? How did I like this and 
 that? never giving me a chance to answer any 
 of her questions. She told me all she could about 
 herself, chattering all day without stopping. About 
 the work she would speak with high authority, 
 assuring me that it would take me months to be- 
 come a skilled worker. 
 
 "Do you know, Louis, this little girl speaks 
 Russian?" she said to the older brother. 
 
 "Does she?" he answered, looking at me approv- 
 ingly and coming over to our table. He seemed to 
 regard me with more respect for knowing Russian. 
 
 "I am going to the opera to-night," my instructor 
 announced, ripping apart the yoke of a waist that 
 I tried to make into a collar. 
 
 "You do not even ask me with whom I am go- 
 ing?" she continued, not getting any reply from 
 me. "My gentleman friend is a musician, you 
 know, and we often go to the opera. Do you like 
 music?" 
 
 "Very much," I replied, trying to discourage 
 conversation, for she gave me very little chance 
 to work. 
 
30 One of Them 
 
 "What about your gentleman friend? You surely 
 have one is he musical?" 
 
 Heavens! Will she never stop? I wondered. 
 
 "You do like to know a lot of things all in one 
 day," I replied. I spoke softly so as not to dis- 
 please her, but she went over to her machine and 
 spoke to me no more that day. 
 
 On the eleventh day of my apprenticeship the 
 long-expected strike broke out. The very small 
 staff in our shop, being so closely related to the 
 boss, did not stop work. My employer tried to 
 convince me that it would be very foolish of me to 
 join the strikers when I was only a stranger in the 
 trade. 
 
 I did not know what to do. Indeed, I knew very 
 little about the American Labor Movement in 
 general and less about that particular industry. 
 Should the employees in my shop walk out, there 
 would be no doubts for me, but they did not. Being 
 in the first stage of apprenticeship, not knowing 
 the people nor the real conditions existing in the 
 trade, I thought that I could be of no help to 
 the strikers, so stayed in the shop and learned the 
 work. I could not make up a garment, nor even, 
 as yet, had I succeeded in making a straight stitch. 
 Still, each bundle that went through my hands 
 caused me terrible sufferings. It seemed as if the 
 goods would look up at me reproachfully. "So 
 many young girls fighting for a better chance, for 
 
The Strike 31 
 
 more freedom, for a better life ! Leave us untouched 
 in the baskets." 
 
 "But I am not injuring them, I am only learn- 
 ing," I tried to quiet my conscience. "I am learn- 
 ing in order to help them when I have a right to 
 stand in their ranks and demand the same : to fight 
 for a better life, for freedom." 
 ! Oh! that better life! Who more than I had strug- 
 gled for it? 
 
 Who more than I had sacrificed for freedom i 
 a freedom that I have not yet realized? 
 
 In the evenings, when I walked home, I tried 
 to slip through the pickets so they should not no- 
 tice me; for they would not believe that I was only 
 a learner and that my heart and soul were with 
 them. 
 
 With delight and envy I watched those young, 
 brave children in the picket line, not fearing the 
 policemen who would chase them from one place 
 to another, nor the gangsters hired by the bosses, 
 who would stain with blood many a young girl's 
 face when she dared to speak to a scab who was 
 under their protection. 
 
 The first weeks of my apprenticeship did not go 
 at all smoothly. My employer friend seemed to 
 grow discouraged with me because I still did not 
 seem to distinguish a sleeve from a front or a back 
 from a yoke. 
 
32 One of Them 
 
 My talkative instructor would cry out in disgust: 
 "You certainly botch up all the work! If you go 
 on this way, you will earn enough for water, but 
 not for bread." 
 
 Crowning me with a nickname, the first day, she 
 would often tease me to tears. As she was known 
 as the "gypsy," she called me "the little white 
 angel," for my small stature and my white com- 
 plexion. Seeing how little I liked that name, even 
 the beautiful Italians teased me good-naturedly. 
 
 One evening the elder Mr. N. called me over, and 
 in a friendly manner advised me to give up the job. 
 He said I was an intelligent girl and could never 
 concentrate my mind on the machine enough to be- 
 come a real worker and earn my living by it. 
 
 Another blow to my hopes. Did he really mean it? 
 
 "Perhaps he is right. I shall never be able to 
 learn a trade if I progress so slowly," I thought. 
 "Perhaps I am too old to learn anything at all. 
 I am already passed twenty and am still helpless 
 as a child." 
 
 He seemed to notice my depression, for he imme- 
 diately changed his mind, and accompanying me 
 home that evening he talked to me for a long time. 
 
 After he left me, I went down-hearted to my 
 room. "What shall I do? How much more must 
 I concentrate my mind on the machine? Am I not 
 trying hard to learn? Why does it seem to go so 
 slow?" 
 
Thoughts of Suicide 33 
 
 The other girls are so quick, everything from 
 their hands comes out so smoothly, and when I try 
 to do the same thing, I start so fine, but it comes 
 out so crooked! How shall I learn? How shall I 
 learn? That question kept digging, digging in my 
 mind, filling me with despair. 
 
 I thought of my older boss. 
 
 He was so kind to me, he spoke so nicely, with 
 more sympathy than any one else had done since 
 I left home. No one till then had inquired how I 
 was living, not even my room-mate knew how 
 I made ends meet. 
 
 To my parents I had to lie. Each letter I wrote to 
 them made them think that I was quite contented 
 with the new life. The thought that they might 
 learn the truth made me so miserable, so miserable. 
 Had they not objected to my leaving home? 
 
 I was to be strong, I was to overcome every- 
 thing. But how, how? I feared that I was too 
 weak, too helpless against life. I saw no hope of 
 earning enough money to help my family as I had 
 promised. I saw no possibility of studying in the 
 evenings when my mind was so worried about my 
 daily bread. If I cannot accomplish anything, what 
 is life for, then? Lying in bed that night I began 
 to think of suicide. 
 
 Oh, how I wished to die that evening, to be re- 
 lieved from the eternal anxiety, from painful dis- 
 appointments ! 
 
34 One of Them 
 
 "But suicide is a selfish thing," I thought. "If 
 I find relief in that, what about those who survive? 
 Will not the deed kill my parents, who have so 
 much faith in my strength? No, I shall not dis- 
 appoint them; I shall fight until I succeed. Others 
 struggle as much as I do. I have heard of so many 
 who have suffered as much and more than I and 
 yet were successful in the end. Why should not I? 
 I shall prove my ambitions. I must." 
 
 With a terrible headache, I fell into an unsound 
 sleep, my head whirling into a heavy nightmare. 
 
 In my dreams I wandered aimlessly now climb- 
 ing up muddy hills and falling back from the heights 
 now fluttering over cities, deserted streets, and 
 dark harbors. Then I dropped on a dock, pain- 
 fully watching a ship sailing something was in 
 it that I feared to lose with its disappearance. A 
 tall figure in white appeared before me. It stretched 
 its hand toward the sea and the sailing ship. 
 
 "The sea is your life," it said. "In that ship 
 is hidden your future, your success. If you are 
 strong, if you have courage, go swim after it, reach 
 it, and you will conquer; happiness will be yours." 
 
 With the last words it faded in the thick fog, 
 while I was thrown into the sea. With my hands 
 I began to break through the muddy waves. My 
 struggle had no end. Many, many days I swam, 
 but the faster I swam, the more quickly the ship 
 seemed to recede from me. My strength gradually 
 
A Terrible Dream 35 
 
 lessened. I grew more tired. I rallied and made 
 great efforts to swim faster. Little by little the 
 water began to dry out. The ship disappeared from 
 my sight, and soon I found myself in a swamp. 
 
 I was beginning to sink another instant and 
 I was swallowed in the mud. "Help! Help!" I 
 cried out, and awoke. 
 
 It was early morning. I jumped up, dressed 
 quickly and went out to breathe a little fresh air, 
 still tired and under the spell of the night's terrible 
 dream. 
 
 Why was it so terrible, after all? I did not believe 
 in dreams, but that dream seemed to have sym- 
 bolized my life's struggle. 
 
 On a bench in Union Square I sat waiting for 
 the clock to strike eight, for our shop never opened 
 before that hour. Thousands of people passed the 
 square, most of them garment-workers. 
 
 So many people could learn the trade. Why not 
 I? "I shall learn it under any circumstances, and 
 that quickly, too," I decided. 
 
 I reached the shop, just as my boss who had 
 accompanied me home the night before unlocked 
 the door. 
 
 "Good-morning; who threw you out of bed so 
 early?" he said, and added smilingly, "Now we 
 shall see what we can do for you, little angel." 
 
 "Oh, please, Mr. N., you, too! You must excuse 
 me, if I ask you not to call me a nickname. I 
 
36 One of Them 
 
 am already twenty years old and I think I am too 
 old to be teased," I said. 
 
 He apologized. "Why, I did not think that you 
 would feel badly about it. Goodness ! You do not 
 look twenty, at all. I thought you were not more 
 than sixteen or seventeen." 
 
 His sisters came in, the power opened, and we 
 sat down to work. During the next few days I 
 exerted myself to the utmost. My boss helped me, 
 and as my work went on improving, I began to feel 
 more at my ease. Another two weeks and no more 
 botching; I was able to put a garment together, 
 but I was still very slow and the prices were poor. 
 I could make only from five to six dollars a week. 
 That money was just enough to live from hand to 
 mouth, and I needed so many things. My shoes 
 were worn out; my clothes, too, were shabby; I 
 had nothing but the dress I had on. 
 
 Meantime the strike of the garment-workers was 
 settled. The workers returned to their shops with 
 great victory, their union recognized, their prices 
 almost doubled, their hours reduced from fifty-four 
 to fifty a week. We still worked under the old con- 
 ditions. Our boss claimed that he could not raise 
 the prices because his concern was small, and could 
 not turn out much work. I was so much obliged 
 to him for the favor he had done to me that I felt 
 that I had no right to contradict or be displeased; 
 but as I was unable to better my scanty living 
 
The Employer's Kindness 37 
 
 from my small means, I began to grow discouraged 
 again. 
 
 My idea of studying in the evenings had to be 
 given up for the present, because I worked too hard 
 all day, and in the evenings I had to do my washing 
 and mending and prepare my breakfast and lunch 
 for the next day, since I could not afford to get my 
 meals outside. 
 
 "Heavens! Where is my freedom? I work in 
 the shop by day; I also work in the evenings; no 
 time for anything else but work and eat. This is 
 not a very interesting life. What will the outcome 
 be?" 
 
 There was something else to worry me. My 
 boss's kindness to me created such a warm grati- 
 tude in me toward him. Being very romantic^ 
 and foolishly naive, I took my feelings for him too 
 seriously and began to fear that I might fall in love 
 with him. I had heard of so many cases of em- 
 ployees who fell in love with their employers and 
 the sad results that followed. 
 
 But I wanted to lead my life in purity. I did 
 not want any one to soil my path. I feared that if 
 life continued as it was, I might be plunged into 
 the dirty slough as many others were, and I de- 
 cided to prefer death if it came, rather than allow 
 anything to happen to me. 
 
 One evening, coming home from work, so tired 
 and discouraged, I found a letter from home with 
 
38 One of Them 
 
 very sad news. My family was in hardship, and 
 though they did not ask me for anything, I knew 
 that if I could send them money it would be of 
 great help to them. 
 
 What was I to do? I hardly had enough for my 
 board, but they knew nothing of my circumstances, 
 and never would I want them to know. When 
 would I be able to help them? My father, deprived 
 of my help, had to hire some one in my place, be- 
 sides paying the chief of police and keeping up such 
 a large family. 
 
 "Oh! when will it end, when will it end? If 
 I only had the money! Money! Money! How 
 hateful you are, but, oh, how I need to have 
 you!" 
 
 Enfolded in the dark clouds that again spread 
 over my horizon, I began to lose ground. My head 
 burning, my thoughts in confusion, I ran down the 
 stairs to the street and carelessly wandered among 
 the crowded pushcarts. 
 
 "A penny! A penny a sweet potato! A penny 
 a pickle! All your heart's desire, only one penny!" 
 rang the loud voices of the peddlers. 
 
 Sweet potatoes, pickles, bananas on the push- 
 carts, a skirt, a waist, a front, a yoke in the basket 
 at the side of my machine, the letter from home, 
 money my boss all danced before my eyes, in 
 dark confusion. 
 
 Flowers! I stopped near a flower store, attracted 
 
A Funeral Bouquet 39 
 
 by the American Beauties in the windows. Un- 
 thinkingly I walked in. 
 
 "Well, madam, birthday, wedding, funeral bou- 
 quets, what do you desire?" 
 
 "Birthday, wedding, funeral bouquets," I re- 
 peated absent-mindedly. 
 
 "Funeral bouquet," I said. 
 
 "How much?" 
 
 "How much?" I repeated. "Just a second." 
 I began to count my change a dollar, twenty- 
 five, forty-five, sixty-nine cents. "For a dollar 
 sixty-nine cents, please." 
 
 I remember the man looked at me in amazement. 
 
 "Madame, we do not sell for a dollar sixty-nine 
 cents a dollar fifty, if you please." 
 
 "Let it be a dollar fifty," I said carelessly. 
 
 With the bouquet in my hands I walked home. 
 My room-mate was away in the picketing line 
 her shop was still on strike. I did not expect her 
 until late in the evening. I had plenty of time 
 
 The flowers, the beautiful white roses, the lilies 
 
 ah, the odor intoxicated me. Why did I not get 
 an American Beauty, that I am so fond of? 
 
 An American Beauty in a funeral bouquet? 
 Oh, yes, a funeral death suicide my home 
 
 my people 
 
 Slowly I turned on the gas, and made a solution 
 of poisonous matches. 
 
40 One of Them 
 
 My room-mate returned unexpectedly. I sent 
 her out, and quickly drank the solution 
 
 I recovered consciousness in the hospital, doc- 
 tors and nurses around me. Unfortunately, the 
 matches were not poisonous and I was brought back 
 to life. The next day Clara and my room-mate were 
 with me Clara, her eyes filled with tears. 
 
 "You foolish child, to do such a silly thing!" 
 
 I spoke to neither of them. I was so tired. I 
 wanted to be quiet, to have nobody around me, to 
 be left alone to my own thoughts. 
 
CHAPTER in 
 
 AFTER four days in the hospital, I was well 
 enough to come out. 
 
 "Will you not come to us, where mother will take 
 good care of you for a time?" Clara begged me. 
 
 I refused. I wanted to be no burden to anybody. 
 She brought her mother to the hospital and, both 
 insisting, I at last consented. Where else was I to 
 go, my last cent spent for the flowers? 
 
 Under her mother's watchful care I soon began 
 to feel better and wanted to go to work, but they 
 would not hear of it, until I was completely rested. 
 
 My thought that Clara was very fortunate in 
 having her family with her proved unfounded. She 
 had four younger sisters and two brothers. Her 
 father had died when she was only ten years of age, 
 and as the oldest in the family she was the first to 
 be sent to work. She was apprenticed to a tailor, 
 but he, instead of teaching her the trade, used her as 
 his messenger and oftener as nurse to his babies. 
 Very often the ten-year-old wage-earner would for- 
 get her duties and stop on the street to play with 
 children of her own age; then her employer would 
 scold her for still having those "childish nonsenses 
 in her head." 
 
 At sixteen she came to America. As a skilled 
 
\ 
 
 42 One of Them 
 
 dressmaker she easily found work, but was never 
 paid her worth. For seven or eight dollars a week 
 she worked from seven in the morning until eight 
 or nine in the evening. 
 
 Living on three dollars a week, doing her own 
 washing and ironing and mending, she saved the 
 rest of the money in order to bring her people 
 over here. When, at last, she succeeded in bring- 
 ing them over, and had furnished an apartment 
 and helped each one of them to become self-sup- 
 porting, they gave her little appreciation for all she 
 had suffered for them. The two brothers left the 
 home to seek their fortunes all for themselves. The 
 older sisters went to work. The younger ones went 
 to school and through Clara's efforts enjoyed a 
 few years of education, but when, at last, they were 
 able to support themselves their respect for her 
 was gone. They would make fun of her incorrect 
 English, make light of her ideals, and her devo- 
 tion to the club. Having profited by her sacrifices 
 and gained through her what she had coveted for 
 herself but had never been able to obtain, an edu- 
 cation, they looked down on her because she had 
 not their superficial knowledge of American cus- 
 toms, language, and cheap styles. They deemed 
 that she lacked culture and refinement because in 
 the public schools they had received false ideas 
 of externals. Their understanding of Americanism 
 was limited to speaking English, wearing high 
 
A New Shop 43 
 
 pompadours and powdering their noses. Clara, 
 with her delightful simplicity, her love of real 
 beauty, her great big sympathetic heart, so ready 
 to help every one who appealed to her, was ignored 
 and trampled on, her life embittered by the sisters 
 for whom she had made her greatest sacrifices. 
 
 The poor, hard-working mother suffered from 
 the ingratitude of the younger daughters and was 
 powerless to help it. They would not listen to her; 
 they failed to realize that her heart was bleeding, 
 her hair turning white from grief. 
 
 After two weeks I was strong enough to go to 
 work. As I did not want work with my former 
 employer, I did not return there, but went with 
 one of Clara's friends, a cutter, to the place where 
 he was employed. It was also a non-union shop, 
 one of quite a number almost a hundred 
 that remained unorganized, the workers trusting 
 their bosses' promise to better conditions without 
 the help of the union. Like sheep led by wolves, 
 who try to make the sheep believe that the shep- 
 herd is their enemy because he does not allow them 
 to run freely over the spacious fields and gather of 
 the best grass, and that without the shepherd they 
 would enjoy more freedom. The foolish sheep in- 
 fluenced by the wolves run away from the shepherd 
 only to be all eaten up by the hungry wolves who 
 had purposely led them away from protection. 
 
 It was the height of the season. Labor was 
 
44 One of Them 
 
 scarce, and the boss was obliged to grant the best 
 union conditions in order to prevent his workers 
 from leaving. The system was very different from 
 that of my first place. (Later I learned that each 
 shop has its own system.) I felt like a beginner 
 again. 
 
 The f orelady, Yetta, bless her heart ! was a 
 kind, gentle person. She gave me all the necessary 
 instructions so that I soon overcame my difficulties. 
 Week-work prevailed in the place. I expected to 
 get seven dollars a week to start with, and great 
 was my astonishment when in my first pay enve- 
 lope I found ten dollars. Destiny seemed to play 
 with me. I was so happy that evening when I 
 brought my pay home! Breathless, I ran to Clara 
 and, holding the envelope tight in my hand, before 
 her eyes, I asked her to guess how much. She could 
 not guess. The highest she could think of was eight, 
 but when I showed her the envelope she shouted 
 with joy. 
 
 "Here! Here! you are a regular dressmaker 
 already!" 
 
 "Why, how dare you think otherwise?" I an- 
 swered in a teasing tone. 
 
 It was not the money that made me feel so happy, 
 it was my worth that I thought of. I could not 
 have expected to get ten dollars a week after having 
 only a few weeks of experience. My former boss, 
 when I made five dollars a week, liked to remind me 
 
Better Times 45 
 
 that he did not think that I was worth even that 
 much. Though claiming to be my friend, he took 
 advantage of a learner, as nearly every other manu- 
 facturer does. 
 
 Now that I was able to make ends meet more 
 easily, my mind was at peace again. I began to 
 think of my home and decided to send for my 
 younger brother, a strongly built lad, now about 
 eighteen. He, I thought, having a good trade, will 
 soon be able to earn money and both of us will help 
 the rest of the family. Here again my friend Clara 
 helped me she gave me a loan of fifty dollars on 
 payments of three dollars a week. The money I 
 sent home for my brother's ticket. I went on im- 
 proving in my work and soon I was sent occasion- 
 ally to the sample-room, and so became a sample- 
 maker. 
 
 Things once more went on smoothly. The 
 strength of youth conquered and my cheerfulness 
 returned. Again, I went singing among my friends, 
 infecting them with my joyousness. Even in the 
 shop I was happy. My neighbors were very kind. 
 Each one would help the other out of difficulties 
 in the work. 
 
 At lunch-time very few of us would go out. We 
 ate together. Bologna sausages, corned beef, the 
 Italians' eggplant fried in olive oil all spread a 
 mixed, unpleasant smell over the shop. The few 
 
46 One of Them 
 
 girls at my table would exchange food with each 
 other, a cherry chocolate for an orange, a piece 
 of apple for a banana, a corned-beef sandwich for 
 some white fish. I would take part in the conver- 
 sation, but never shared in the exchange of food. 
 Their kind offerings to me I refused also, for I had 
 nothing to give in return. My lunch consisted of 
 either a cheese sandwich and milk or an egg and milk. 
 The pint of milk I bought every morning for my 
 breakfast had to be used up, so I had a small bottle 
 and would always bring the rest of it for my lunch. 
 
 "No wonder you are so white living on noth- 
 ing but milk," they would often tease me. 
 
 I told them I liked nothing else, though often 
 their pickles and smoked fish would awaken a 
 sharp appetite in me. 
 
 Their conversation, so different from the vulgar- 
 ities of the girls in the sweater shop, was much 
 pleasanter. There was little talk here about the 
 "fellers," "swell" evening pumps, and lace pet- 
 ticoats that the six-dollar wage-earners in the 
 sweater shop were constantly discussing. Here we 
 talked about questions of the day, world happen- 
 ings, music, art, literature, and trade questions. 
 One fault I found with them : their indifference to 
 being members of the Waist and Dressmakers' 
 Union. They would belong, they all agreed, 
 if they worked in a union shop, but they would 
 not trouble to unionize this shop. 
 
The Need for Organization 47 
 
 Although the conditions in my shop were just 
 as good as in the best union shops, we had every- 
 thing except the recognition of the union, still, 
 I was anxious to have it organized. I confess it 
 was puzzling to me at first to understand why the 
 boss objected to his people joining the union. As 
 long as union conditions prevailed in the shop, why 
 not allow the workers to belong where they ought 
 to belong? Some of the workers in the shop were 
 union members. On my question, Why did they 
 not have the shop organized? they would answer 
 me carelessly, "We should worry so long as we have 
 union conditions." I suffered by their ignorant 
 answers. I recalled the thousands of young girls 
 who had so bitterly fought their fight only a few 
 weeks before, and I argued with my co-workers. 
 
 "Don't you know that we have got everything 
 just because so many thousands of girls fought for 
 it? You yourselves admit that the standards here 
 were much lower before the general strike was 
 called. You only got increases when the girls 
 in the other shops won them. Do you think that 
 our boss, no matter how kind he is, would reduce 
 four hours a week if it were not for the strike? We 
 workers must all do our share. It is not fair to 
 stand aside and let others fight and spend their 
 money to keep up an organization when we all get 
 the benefits from it. 
 
 "There must be reasons why the boss does not 
 
48 One of Them 
 
 want a union shop. I am not criticizing our boss. 
 I admit that he is a fair man. But don't you know 
 that for the sake of being successful in business, 
 of making more money, the bosses, even the best 
 of them, will exploit their workers to the utmost? 
 That is why we must be organized so that we can 
 stand up against them. In unity is our strength. 
 We must belong to a union in order to protect our- 
 selves against the ruling hand of capitalisin." 
 
 But the workers cared to know next to nothing 
 about it. Some of the girls would answer me 
 rudely: 
 
 "You had better shut up; if you don't you will 
 get fired. There was another girl in the shop who 
 tried to agitate for the union and she was dis- 
 charged." 
 
 I would often talk to Clara about my desire to 
 organize the shop. She also warned me not to do 
 it. "The dull season is approaching, and you have 
 not any money saved to face it, so what will you 
 do in case you are fired?" 
 
 But I could not rest. I felt like a criminal to 
 work in a trade that is organized and not belong to 
 the ranks. I could not imagine that there were 
 workers who as yet did not understand the value 
 of organization, 
 i- But I soon found the reason for such ignorance. 
 As a rule the worker in a shop brings to it his or 
 her friend or relative; that friend or relative brings 
 
Workers Related 49 
 
 another friend, so that in most cases, each shop con- 
 tains workers who are closely related to each other. 
 The consequence is that if one seems to be misin- 
 formed about unionism, all of them get the same idea. 
 If one of them is warned by the boss to keep away 
 from union people, most all of them obey him. 
 
 Particularly among Italians the bringing in of 
 friends is practiced. Very often you see in a shop 
 a set of finishers who are nearly all Italians. There 
 are mothers and mothers-in-law, daughters and K 
 daughters-in-law, sisters, and so on. If you can 
 persuade one to join the union, you may be sure 
 of getting them all; if you fail with one, you fail 
 with all. It was so with our shop. All the finishers 
 and cleaners were Italians; the drapers, Yiddish 
 and Italians; the examiners were Americans, who 
 considered it beneath their dignity to belong to 
 a "labor organization," especially to a "Yiddish 
 Union" as they called the Waist and Dressmakers' 
 Union. The operators were mixed mostly Jews, 
 Italians, and a few Americans. As a matter of 
 fact, they were all related, the Jews to Jews, the 
 Italians to their people, and if some were mis- 
 informed about the union, the rest were, also, and 
 hated to be agitated about it. 
 
 Realizing that, lacking knowledge of the trade- 
 union movement, I could do very little, I decided 
 to report to the union, hoping that it would help 
 me to organize my shop. 
 
50 One of Them 
 
 When I went to the office of the union and asked 
 for the organizer and told him what I wanted, he 
 appreciated my efforts and explained that the or- 
 ganizers were only too glad to help out those who 
 wanted to be helped. They had been trying for 
 years to enlighten the workers' minds, to awaken 
 them to self -consciousness, and to help them organ- 
 ize into unions. 
 
 "Without a union," he said, "the bosses drive 
 their workers like slaves; they do not fear the indi- 
 vidual. If any one protests, he or she is promptly 
 thrown out of the shop, but when a protest comes 
 from all the workers, not only from one shop, but 
 from all shops equally, the bosses must listen and 
 treat the matter justly; if they do not, then the 
 workers strike. It is very sad to admit that there 
 are still workers who do not care how they are 
 treated. Instead of demanding their rights, they 
 are constantly trying schemes to win the bosses' 
 favor in order to get a raise of one dollar." 
 
 He spoke the truth, there are many workers 
 who would do anything, even injure a fellow- 
 worker, in order to get a raise. 
 
 Somehow my boss learned that I had been to the 
 union. Any one else in my place would have been 
 "fired" without any explanation, but I worked for 
 ten dollars a week and worked mostly on samples, 
 while a sample-maker usually gets fourteen dollars. 
 That is why the boss first tried to warn me. 
 
Warned against Unions 51 
 
 In the morning, when I came to work, the de- 
 signer, a very gentle woman, always welcoming me 
 with a smile, seemed to be angry. 
 
 "Why, Lizzie, I am surprised at you, such a 
 sensible girl as I thought you, to act so silly." 
 
 I guessed what she meant, but asked, "What is 
 the matter?" as if I had not understood. 
 
 "Tell me, are you dissatisfied with your position? 
 Is there anything wrong with this place?" 
 
 "No," I answered; "I'm satisfied, and I think 
 the place is all right." 
 
 "Then what is the sense in going to that damn 
 union r 
 
 "'Damn union' ! How dare you?" I wanted to 
 reply, but I controlled myself. 
 
 "Well," I said, "I see no harm in it." 
 
 "It is for your sake I warn you. I'm only a 
 friend to you. Don't you know that the leaders of 
 the union only care for your money? They are 
 not doing a thing for you. They are grafters; that 
 is all they are." 
 
 I smiled again. Poor soul! She was so sure of 
 what she said. 
 
 Soon the boss came in and called me aside. With 
 the authority of a professor, he began to lecture 
 me. 
 
 "Look here, little girl, I'm a man who is as fair 
 and square as possible. I always treat my workers 
 as good as I can. Everybody is pleased with their 
 
52 One of Them 
 
 positions; are not you? Did I not try to give you 
 all chances for advancement?" 
 
 "Yes, you did, and it was very nice of you, but 
 you did not raise me in accordance with my ad- 
 vancement," I answered. 
 
 "Oh, you'll get a raise next season. You don't 
 expect me to raise you the first season. But, to the 
 point. You have no idea what grafters the labor 
 leaders are. There has been no strike which has not 
 been sold by them. They get the poor working- 
 people's money and use it for their own benefit. 
 Now, I am sorry for my own people. Why should 
 they waste their money earned through hard labor? 
 The union is only a bluff; there is nothing to it; it 
 is not good for the workers. Now, if you want to 
 be a sensible girl, do your work and do not mix in 
 other people's business. You can stay here, and 
 I'll raise you a dollar on the week when the next 
 season begins. Now I can't. You see the dull 
 season is coming already. Another week and there 
 will be very little work to do." 4 
 
 I thanked him for his kindness and sat down to 
 work. Now I understood why people in that shop 
 feared the union. They were fed with the same 
 kind of lectures continuously. No wonder they had 
 an idea of unions in general as organizations where 
 the workers were cheated. How was I to change 
 their minds? How was I to explain to them that 
 this was only a trick to poison the workers' minds? 
 
Joining the Union J 53 
 
 Later, when I worked in other shops, I heard 
 similar stories told to the workers by the bosses. 
 
 In order to learn what our unions are and help 
 organize the workers, I joined the union. I began 
 at once to look up the reports so as to find out how 
 the general strike had been settled, and to learn 
 the history of the development of our union. 
 Since the year 1900, the union, consisting then of 
 very few members, had tried earnestly to organize 
 the workers and to uplift the trade. The strikes 
 that had been called had never been very successful 
 because only a minority of the workers were mem- 
 bers of the union. The heroic struggle of the few 
 resulted in long weeks of starvation among the 
 strikers, broken heads, arrests of pickets, and work- 
 house sentences for the young girls who tried to 
 better their working conditions rather than to turn 
 for their living to the "paths of shame." 
 
 For years these few heroic, intelligent workers 
 had fearlessly carried on the agitation for condi- 
 tions that would make possible a more human life 
 among their ranks, until at last, in 1912, the big &* 
 mass of down-trodden workers raised their heads, 
 resp6nded to the call, and began preparations for 
 a big demonstration during the coming year. 
 
 The Manufacturers' Association in the dress and 
 waist industry controlled nearly two thirds of the 
 trade. The association realized the widespread 
 agitation and foresaw the strike as the result of 
 
54 One of Them 
 
 the growing strength of the union. Having the 
 benefit of the experience of the cloak industry, 
 which had adopted a protocol agreement in 1910, 
 the association had begun, as early as November, 
 to confer with the Waist and Dressmakers' Union, 
 wishing to adopt an agreement that would prevent 
 strikes in future. On January 18, 1913, a protocol 
 agreement was consummated between the Manu- 
 facturers' Association and the union. It aimed to 
 enlist both parties in an effort to improve condi- 
 tions and to obtain the equalization of standards 
 throughout the industry by peaceful and honorable 
 means. It was agreed to create a joint board of 
 sanitary control to insure sanitary conditions in the 
 factory sufficient light and ventilation, safety, 
 and freedom from fire and overcrowding. A board 
 of grievances was also created, consisting of ten 
 members, five representing the union and five the 
 manufacturers, to adjust all disputes and settle 
 controversies; and a board of arbitration to decide 
 all disputes that the board of grievances were 
 unable to settle. No strike or lockout was to take 
 place until these two boards had had the opportun- 
 ity to try to adjust matters between the disputants. 
 A wage scale board was provided on which 
 likewise both the manufacturers and the union 
 were represented, to standardize the prices to 
 be paid for piece- and week-work. The board 
 was to reserve data and statistics with the hope of 
 
Sub-contracting 55 
 
 establishing a scientific basis for the fixing of prices 
 of week- and piece-work throughout the industry 
 that would insure a minimum wage and at the same 
 time permit reward for increased efficiency. The 
 board was empowered to make an immediate and 
 thorough investigation into the existing rates paid 
 for labor, the earnings of the operatives, and the 
 classification of garments in the industry. Sub- 
 contracting was to be abolished. 
 
 The term "sub-contracting" is used when one 
 skilled worker in a shop has under his control from 
 one to ten unskilled workers; he is responsible for 
 the work and is paid for it, paying to his helpers 
 what he deems necessary. Sub-contracting is very ** 
 ruinous to the workers. The sub-contractors nat- 
 urally try to make as much as they can from the 
 workers, and the labor of a garment is extensively 
 subdivided, each worker in the set receiving only 
 one part of the garment. As he quickly specializes, 
 working on that part exclusively, he increases his 
 speed. But the subdivision of the work gives no 
 chance to the workers to learn the whole trade 
 sufficiently to better themselves; thus, as learners, 
 they are always dependent on the man for whom 
 they work, receiving from him from three to six 
 dollars a week. The speed with which he drives 
 them to work injures their health, and they are 
 also the cause of lowering the prices for the skilled 
 workers. 
 
56 One of Them 
 
 A 
 
 A minimum wage for week-workers was fixed. 
 
 Operators were to be paid by the piece. They 
 were given an increase, so that no average operator 
 would earn less than thirty cents an hour on piece- 
 work. The standard price per hour was to be fin- 
 ally fixed, after investigation by the board, within 
 the following six months. 
 
 Besides the Manufacturers' Association there 
 were a number of manufacturers who did not be- 
 long to the association and they signed individual 
 agreements with the union. They were called the 
 "Independent Union Shops." 
 
 I was very much inspired when I finished reading 
 the "Protocol of Peace." It seemed as if every- 
 thing was accomplished. The workers had at last 
 compelled the manufacturers to recognize their 
 rights. Each paragraph read: "Both parties 
 agree"; "Both parties are desirous " 
 
 I thought the workers in the union shops must 
 be happy, for they seemed to have everything to 
 protect them, and I wished so much to work in a 
 union shop. But I soon learned that it was not so, 
 that so-called "industrial democracy" existed only 
 within the pages of the " Protocol of Peace. " 
 
 The third week in April work began to slacken. 
 In the shops where a high grade of dresses is made, 
 the season often ends that month. On the coming 
 Saturday, at one o'clock, the boss in my shop 
 informed his workers that, on account of the ap- 
 
Wages Eeduced 57 
 
 proaching dull season he was compelled to reduce 
 their wages from two to three dollars a week, de- 
 manding, however, the same full week's work of 
 labor. 
 
 What were the workers to do? Here they were 
 like sheep led away by the wolf from the shepherd. 
 They had listened to the boss when he promised 
 them all they desired, in order to keep them from 
 the union, and now, when the busy season was 
 over, he took advantage of the workers who had 
 no union to protect them and reduced their wages, 
 being sure that in the dull season they would stay 
 for less money. 
 
 Did the workers at last realize it? Some did, and 
 left the place; those who remained were too igno- 
 rant to realize it. 
 
 When I came on Monday to work, everything 
 seemed so different. No more the former gentle- 
 ness; the foreman was more particular about the 
 work, more exacting in his demands. As there was 
 less to do, he had more time to watch everything. 
 Even the nice Yetta was not so gentle, but I knew 
 it was not her fault. She had to obey the instruc- 
 tions of the boss. 
 
 The first of May was approaching; the union 
 made all preparations for a grand parade. 
 
 The first of May had two meanings for me. As 
 school-teacher at home, I always celebrated that 
 
58 One of Them 
 
 day by going off with my pupils to the woods, 
 where we spent a merry holiday in songs and games. 
 Sweet were my memories of those bygone May days. 
 
 The second and more important meaning was 
 the "International Labor Holiday." Internation- 
 alism appealed to me greatly and I decided to stop 
 from work even if the boss should be against it. In 
 vain did I try to inspire my co-workers with the 
 significance of the first of May. They refused to 
 give up a day's wages for such a sentimentality. 
 
 The day fell on Thursday, a bright, warm spring 
 day. Many thousands of young girls, in uniforms 
 of white waists with red collars, formed in line, 
 ready to march. The sun illuminated their pale 
 but happy faces. As they walked through the 
 avenues and streets, looking up at the sky-scrapers 
 where they slaved all the year, their eyes would 
 shine with pride and hope. They looked as if they 
 would speak and warn the world: "Behold, you 
 who keep us in the darkness, no more are we to 
 slave for you. Together we stand now, men 
 and women, creators of .wealth, and together 
 we shall stand to fight for our rights ! " 
 
 I kept my holiday, marching with a small sepa- 
 rate division of girls who gathered from different 
 non-union shops and, like myself, perhaps risked 
 their jobs for observing the holiday. The rest of the 
 day I spent happily with my friends. But I paid 
 for that day with many, many miserable weeks. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE sun's rays, creeping into my tiny room 
 on the top floor, joyfully played on my face 
 when I awoke early the next morning. I lay in bed 
 leisurely stretching and relaxing my poor legs, 
 tired from marching. I was still full of the events 
 of yesterday. My heart beat with warmth as I lay 
 enjoying my sun bath. The clock struck seven, time 
 to get ready for work. Humming a favorite Malo- 
 Russian folk-song I quickly dressed, took my usual 
 breakfast, a roll and a cup of milk, which 
 tasted so good that day, and went down to the 
 shop. It was a glorious morning. The little buds 
 on the trees in Madison Square were just opening 
 into beautiful bloom and spread a pleasant fra- 
 grance around. The small fountain in the centre 
 bubbled, bubbled, splashing out right and left. 
 I stooped for a moment to enjoy the cold sprinkles 
 on my face. 
 
 The great mass of workers who were passing by 
 all seemed so light-hearted. It was the beautiful 
 morning, the warm sun, the awakening of the green, 
 that spread the good-humor on their faces. 
 
 I liked all the world, and in my heart greeted 
 everybody and everything. 
 
60 One of Them 
 
 "Good-morning!" "Good-morning!" "A fine 
 morning!" "A glorious morning!" "Well how 
 did you like the march? Was it not splendid?" 
 "Indeed, it was wonderful!" was heard all around 
 as the workers met on their way to the shops. 
 
 "Good-morning," said I merrily to the foreman, 
 who happened to be the first to meet me when I 
 entered the shop. 
 
 "Good-morning," came an angry nasal sound. 
 
 "It is too nice a morning to be angry," I teased. 
 
 "If you think that you can make a living on nice 
 mornings or May holidays, you need not come in 
 to work!" he answered severely. 
 
 I understood that something was wrong and that 
 my good-humor would not gain the foreman's 
 favor, so I quietly went to my machine and bent 
 my head over my work. 
 
 Meantime, the girls began to fill up their places 
 at the machines. Some would stop near me while 
 passing and question how the march looked. 
 
 "I paid with a day's wages to know, and I think 
 that it is too expensive to tell," was my reply to 
 all of them. 
 
 "Good-morning, Miss Union lady!" I jumped 
 up, instinctively feeling that it was I who was 
 addressed. 
 
 A sudden laughter rang over the shop from the 
 amused workers. 
 
 On the other side of the table stood the boss, 
 
Discharged 61 
 
 calling me angrily. With a sudden foreboding of 
 evil, I walked over to him. 
 
 "Look here, miss, you know that I think that 
 you are too smart for my place." 
 
 "What is it?" I interrupted. 
 
 "What it is? Just as if you did not know! I 
 don't want you to make trouble in my shop. 
 What business have you to bother my workers? 
 You made some of them stop from work when I 
 was in a rush to finish out a lot of dresses." 
 
 "Why, you complain all the time that there is 
 nothing to do and your workers sit idle. How did 
 you happen to have such a rush all of a sudden?" 
 
 "Oh, you get on my nerves! You seem to know 
 everything that is not your business! I am not 
 going to stand it any longer!" he said disgustedly, 
 and walked away. 
 
 On Saturday I received my pay and was dis- 
 charged. And so I lost my job for celebrating the 
 first of May. 
 
 Now that I had to look for another job, I made 
 up my mind to get a place in a union shop. I 
 hoped that in the union shops the bosses carried out 
 the agreements of the protocol, but I soon found 
 out that the workers had to fight for every bit that 
 the agreements were supposed to bring them. 
 
 The dull season had already begun and it was 
 not easy to find a job. In the shops where a cheap 
 line of dresses or waists is made, the busy season 
 
62 One of Them 
 
 lasts until July. So I hoped to get work in some 
 of these places. I had worked on a good line of 
 dresses that require more skill and care, and could 
 expect to earn but very little on the cheaper grades 
 where speed was required more than skill. 
 
 I was told that I must go out very early in order 
 to get a job, for there were many other girls who 
 were also looking for work. So on Monday morning 
 I took a paper and went out. There were many 
 advertisements for operators. As I was accustomed 
 to work on samples, I could do everything on a 
 garment, operating, draping, examining, and 
 finishing. I ran over the lines again and again, 
 trying to find from the advertisements which were 
 union shops and which was the best, but the lines 
 told me nothing. So I just went to the nearest 
 place. When I arrived, a score of girls were already 
 standing by the door waiting for the employer. 
 They did not look very friendly at each other: each 
 one fearing in the other her competitor. We 
 waited for a long time, until, at last, His Majesty 
 the Employer came out, a very unsympathetic- 
 looking fellow with a long curved nose and still 
 more unattractive voice. 
 
 "Vot you vant, girls?" he asked in dry broken 
 English. 
 
 The girls rushed over to him. "You advertised 
 for operators." "I am an experienced operator." 
 All of them began to talk at once. 
 
Looking for a New Job 63 
 
 "Joos a moment, joos a moment! Don't rush! 
 I send the foreman out to you." 
 
 We waited a long time until the foreman came 
 out. A young, neat-looking man, he seemed more 
 friendly to us. 
 
 "What is it you want, girls?" the same ques- 
 tion as the boss. 
 
 "You want operators, don't you?" the girls all 
 questioned in reply. 
 
 "Let's see, what can you do?" He took each 
 one separately and cross-examined her, and then, 
 when he had finished with all of us, he said, "I 
 need only two." The rest had to go. 
 
 I felt hurt, not because I did not get the position, 
 but because I felt it was unfair to keep all the girls 
 waiting for more than an hour when he needed only 
 two. As it was after nine o'clock I thought it was 
 too late to look for another job that day, so I went 
 home. I had only twelve dollars in my possession. 
 Six dollars rent for my little sunny room on the 
 top floor would leave me only six. That amount 
 could not carry me very far. 
 
 The next morning I went again, but I did not go 
 before eight o'clock. I did not want to stand with so 
 many other job-seekers, for I could not push them 
 away and rush to the boss as some of them did. I 
 tried my luck at nine o'clock when everybody either 
 had a place or had gone home. I found a place as 
 an operator on West 25th Street, a union shop. 
 
64 One of Them 
 
 I did more observing than sewing that first day. 
 I had never worked in a union shop before, and I 
 was anxious to find out how the people feel there, 
 how the organized workers behave toward one 
 another. I knew that in a non-union shop the 
 workers have very little to say about their con- 
 ditions. The employer fixes the prices, discharges 
 a worker whenever he pleases, and changes the 
 system of the shop whenever he finds it convenient 
 to himself without considering whether or not it 
 injures the workers. In a union shop the workers 
 are represented by a shop chairman selected from 
 among their own number, and they have a price 
 committee to make prices with the boss. All 
 seemed to be well, but from what I saw in that 
 shop and in many others afterwards, I was con- 
 vinced that it was not so well as it seemed. 
 
 True, the workers have a right to complain 
 against any wrong done to them by the boss, but 
 J not all the workers have courage enough to com- 
 plain against an employer. [Mos t of them just 
 shield themselves behind a few brave workers who 
 carry the brunt of all the criticism. The boss often 
 thinks that the workers as a whole do not care, that 
 only the few brave ones (" trouble-makers " or 
 "kickers," the boss calls them) raise the discontent- 
 ment of his people, and if he finds it impossible 
 to discharge these few, he makes their lives so 
 miserable that they are forced to leave themselves. 
 
Unsettled Work 65 
 
 I did not stay long in that shop. The workers 
 had trouble fixing the prices. Work was slack, and 
 the boss said that if the workers would make the 
 garments cheaper he would try to get more work for 
 them. But the people were wise enough not to be- 
 lieve him. When the season is over no more dresses 
 and waists are needed, even if they are cheaper. 
 Besides, if the price on a garment is once made, it 
 is never changed in the busy season. So all the 
 workers refused to accept the unsettled price work. 
 
 The foreman, thinking that as a "new hand" I 
 would not have courage to refuse, brought me a 
 bundle of unsettled work. The eyes of all the work- 
 ers were fixed on me with eagerness. They feared 
 that I would accept the work and break their 
 solidarity. But with a glance I assured them that 
 they need not fear. I took my bundle over to the 
 counter where work was given out and asked for 
 another one. 
 
 "What's the matter with this bundle?" asked 
 the foreman. 
 
 "It is not settled," I said. 
 
 "That's nothing, go ahead. We'll fix up the 
 price all right," he answered. 
 
 "I'm sorry," I said again; "I have no right to 
 accept it when others do not." 
 
 "So you are also a union member, eh? Now, 
 don't be foolish; don't wait for them; they are 
 kickers; they don't know what they want." 
 
66 One of Them 
 
 But I would not. "I think they are right," I 
 answered. 
 
 "Then I have no other work for you. Do as you 
 please either take the work I give you or go 
 home." 
 
 i It was a challenge. The chairman came over and 
 said: "Listen, Mr. Foreman. You'll be so kind as 
 to give some settled work to the girl, or we'll all 
 bring the work back to you." 
 
 The foreman answered him with his usual ex- 
 pression, "Mind your own business." 
 
 A quarrel began. 
 
 I stopped the chairman. I did not want any 
 trouble arising on my account and I said that I had 
 better leave, but the chairman would not let me 
 go; so at last I got a bundle of work. The next day 
 when I came in to work, my machine was out of 
 order. I had left it in perfect condition the evening 
 before and now suddenly it began to break the 
 thread. The foreman was also the machinist and 
 he was too busy that particular day to fix it. My 
 bundle of work was not complete; I was short of 
 some collars. When I went over to the counter and 
 asked for collars, I did not get them. 
 
 "The bundle was complete," said the foreman. 
 "You are responsible for losing them." 
 
 "But I did not lose them," said I. "I'm sure 
 that I did not get them." 
 
 "You did get them as well as every one else got 
 
Forced to Leave 67 
 
 them in their bundles, and you will have to pay for 
 them if they are missing." 
 
 "I assure you that I did not lose them; I only 
 opened my bundle this morning." 
 
 "Girls very often take certain parts home and 
 then they come and claim that they were not in the 
 bundle." 
 
 "I hope you do not suppose that I took the col- 
 lars home," I said, feeling a little offended. 
 
 "Who knows?" 
 
 That was too annoying. 
 
 "You may act as you please, but I am no thief! 
 I'm sure that you know best what happened to 
 those collars," I said in anger. 
 
 I felt too insulted to speak to that man again and 
 left the shop. 
 
 I understood that my machine was out of order 
 through the efforts of Mr. Foreman and that it 
 was also his wish that the collars should be missing. 
 He saw in me a loyal union member and as such 
 I was not desired, so he had annoyed me in order 
 to cause me to leave. 
 
 Through the papers I sought jobs everywhere. 
 In some places I was too late; in others my address 
 was taken and they promised to send for me. I 
 tried for other jobs than dressmaking. 
 
 I found an attractive advertisement. 
 
 "Flowers and feather- making; good pay, steady 
 position to right party; experience unnecessary. De- 
 lancy, corner of Clinton, fourth floor rear." 
 
68 One of Them 
 
 I went to that address. An old, shabby build- 
 ing, no signs outside, a very dark hallway. As I 
 climbed up the wooden stairs I had to grope my 
 way, feeling ahead of me with my hands. A sudden 
 fear struck me, as I reached the third floor. It was 
 too quiet for a factory or the smallest shop. A few 
 voices from the fourth floor came faintly to me. 
 I suddenly recalled that nameless advertisements, 
 with great inducements for inexperienced workers, 
 were often traps for girls. Breathlessly, I ran back 
 down the stairs, risking my neck in my mad haste 
 through the darkness. In the street I looked around 
 the building, trying in vain to find some trace of a 
 feather. I never looked for feather-making again. 
 
 " Operators on dresses; very good pay; steady work. 
 145 West 26th Street, 7th floor." 
 
 I went there at noon. A few young girls were 
 walking back and forth on the sidewalk, anxiously 
 watching the people who entered the building. 
 
 "Are you going up to the eighth floor?" a pretty 
 little blue-eyed blonde asked me. 
 
 "No, to the seventh, why? Anything the 
 matter?" 
 
 " We are out on strike for three days and we hope 
 to win if there will be no scabs," she explained, 
 looking at me suspiciously. 
 
 The other girls stood behind her. I assured them 
 that they need not fear me, that I would be de- 
 lighted to help them if I could. 
 
Subterfuge 69 
 
 The elevator-man smiled when I told him to 
 stop at the seventh floor. 
 
 "You is gonah eight floor, not on seven." 
 
 "No, on seventh," I insisted. 
 
 When he stopped on the eighth floor, I repeated, 
 "The seventh floor, do you understand me?" 
 
 He went down and let me out on the seventh. 
 A man who came out from the office greeted me 
 very pleasantly. When I told what I had come for, 
 he said: "Sure! Say, Bob, take the girl up to the 
 seventh floor." 
 
 "Is not this the seventh?" I asked. 
 
 "No, the elevator-man was mistaken. Here is 
 the boy he will take you up." 
 
 "Listen, Mr. Bob," I said to the boy when we 
 were on the stairway. "I know we are going up 
 to the eighth floor where there is a strike." 
 
 "Yes, they advertise for the seventh so that 
 the strikers may think that the boss has shut up 
 the place, and the people who apply for jobs can 
 go freely up to work so long as it is on the seventh," 
 the boy murmured in my ear, and begged me to 
 keep quiet because he would lose his job if it be- 
 came known that he told. 
 
 I walked on up to the eighth floor. 
 
 Three long rows of machines stood empty. At 
 the end of one table, three middle-aged men were 
 bent over their machines. A short, stout gentle- 
 man came over to me. 
 
70 One of Them 
 
 "How do you do, miss! Will you please just sit 
 down for a minute? I will get a machine ready for 
 you. You will find this a very nice place to work 
 in," he said, as he busied himself with a machine. 
 
 He did not even ask me what I could do, where 
 I came from, or what for the usual inquiries to a 
 newcomer. I looked around. I studied the men's 
 faces so as to describe to the workers the men who 
 were scabbing on them. 
 
 " Where are your workers? " I inquired. 
 
 "Oh, I am only starting this shop. If you have 
 any friends or workers you know of you can bring 
 them in with you. I pay very good wages." 
 
 I promised that I would and told him that I 
 would not be ready to start work before the next 
 morning. 
 
 "All right; the machine will be ready for you 
 in the morning. Don't forget to bring your friends," 
 he reminded me. 
 
 The girls eagerly surrounded me when I came 
 down, smiling, to them. 
 
 I gave them all the information I had. A brisk 
 Italian looked up at me approvingly. 
 
 "Oh! shu\ shu', me know you wuz no scab, you 
 a nice girl. You see, we is striking foh no raise. 
 We no wonna raise; de men upstairs no union men, 
 they no pay dues. They take all de best woik." 
 
 She spoke more with gesticulation than with her 
 voice. I could understand neither. 
 
Helping the Picketers 
 
 71 
 
 The other girls then told me that the three men 
 upstairs refused to belong to the union. The boss 
 would give them the preference so as to make the 
 union workers envy them, and the men teased the 
 other workers continuously and made fun of their 
 foolishness in belonging to a union when they could 
 get more from the boss for not belonging. When a 
 few days previously, an officer from the union had 
 come up to speak to these men, they had insulted 
 him. As a result, the workers went out on strike, 
 to protest against the men who tried to break the 
 solidarity of the shop. 
 
 I sympathized with the girls. I was delighted 
 to hear them speak so enthusiastically. 
 
 "Will you permit me to picket with you?" I 
 asked them. 
 
 " Of course, sure ! " they all shouted. 
 
 I forgot that I still had some advertisements to 
 answer. I had never been out on strike myself and 
 here I had a chance to stay with them and help 
 them. True, their strike was not a bloody fight for a 
 better life ; it was a peaceful strike, a protest against 
 a few ignorant men who, for a few extra dollars 
 paid by the boss, tried to destroy the spirit of or- 
 ganization and help bring back the old conditions. 
 
 Back and forth on the sidewalk we paced, watch- 
 ing the building and exclaiming at the sight of 
 every newcomer, "A strike on the eighth floor; 
 do not go up there; don't go up there." 
 
72 One of Them 
 
 The policemen would drive us away from time 
 to time. I saw no reason why they did so, as we 
 did not overstep the rules of order. 
 
 We chatted all afternoon and I learned every 
 one's story. All of them were immigrants who had 
 come to the land of promised freedom, to the land 
 where people "shovel gold," as Tina, the dark- 
 eyed, charming little Italian had dreamed. She 
 came over here with her father and two brothers 
 to shovel up a lot of money and then return to 
 Italy, where they had left the invalid mother and 
 younger sister. They had dreamt of carrying 
 money back with them to buy a villa and live like 
 real decent people do. 
 
 That dream long had vanished. Instead of that, 
 Tina now belongs to the union. She cannot read, 
 but she has learned through her friends that 
 working-people are also decent people, that only 
 the capitalists shovel gold, and that the working- 
 people of all the world must unite to take the un- 
 earned gold from those who do not work. She is 
 very enthusiastic about the labor movement, but 
 her great trouble is that she cannot speak English. 
 She told me all this in broken words, gesticulating 
 with her hands and her whole body. "But it's 
 o'right, me go to school nex' wint', me lea'n to 
 speak much, and read all the papers." 
 
 Julia, the blue-eyed blonde, came with her par- 
 ents from Russia. Her father had not had a trade 
 
The Story of Lena 73 
 
 in Russia. Here he had tried all sorts of work, 
 but never succeeded in earning enough to support 
 the family. Her mother would get home-work from 
 some factories, and after the housework was done 
 and everybody was asleep, she would sit with her 
 head bent over the needle trying to earn the small 
 living. Julia had had only one year's schooling. 
 At twelve she took out false working-papers and 
 has been working ever since. Her mother suffers 
 from her eyes lately and cannot sew any more. 
 There is a younger brother whom they keep in 
 high school, so that when he graduates he shall be 
 better off than a "common worker." Julia now 
 is the main support of the family. Her only recrea- 
 tion she finds in the Settlement House on Henry 
 Street, where she has evening classes, music, lec- 
 tures, and a club. 
 
 Lena, also an immigrant from Russia, had had 
 a better life. Her family was independent of her 
 wages and she had the money for herself. She had 
 not cared to finish school, for it was too monoto- 
 nous, and she went to work as soon as her age 
 permitted. Together with her chums she liked to 
 flirt with boys on the street corner. Her earnings 
 were spent in all the ice-cream parlors along Grand 
 Street and in satin pumps for dancing. How she 
 loved the turkey trot and the tango! The breadth 
 of her world had been confined within dance- 
 halls and ice-cream parlors. The prince of her 
 
74 One of Them 
 
 dreams had been Jake the prize-fighter, whom she 
 had met at a dance-hall. She spoke in a frank but 
 wistful tone, when she told me of her former sweet- 
 heart. 
 
 "My! how he could dance! His tall, broad figure 
 would sway in time with the music. As he stood 
 beating the time with his foot and his body, one 
 could not help but be proud to dance with him. 
 And he could fight even better than he danced! 
 He had already won his third prize. To be sure, he 
 paid with a broken nose, which spoiled his beauty 
 a little, for he certainly had been beautiful when 
 his nose was straight. But what was that in com- 
 parison with his heroism, for he certainly was a 
 hero. All the boys feared him, and my chums 
 how they envied me! That was four years ago," 
 she added and paused, her eyes wistfully looking 
 into space. 
 
 "Then," she continued, " I gave up all that sort of 
 thing very suddenly. Sonia, a girl who sat next to 
 me in the shop, set me thinking one day. 
 
 "She was a queer girl, that Sonia. She never 
 took part in our conversations. At lunch-time she 
 would always read while eating. Often while her 
 eyes were eating the book her hand would be reach- 
 ing out for the food, and she would clutch a spool 
 of cotton or an oil can and bring it right up to her 
 mouth. We had some show watching her at lunch- 
 time. At work she would always hum sorrowful 
 
A Garment Worker's Hero 75 
 
 melodies that would make one cry. Everything 
 about her was so sad and thoughtful. 
 
 "At lunch-time one day, I showed the girls my 
 first picture taken with my sweetheart. I made 
 Sonia raise her head to look at it. I told her of 
 Jake's heroism that spoiled the shape of his nose. 
 
 "She looked at the picture curiously. 'Hm, so 
 your lover is a hero; now tell me what is he fighting 
 for?' 
 
 "All the girls burst out in laughter. 
 
 " * Why, don't you know? for a prize, of course, 
 and when he becomes well known he will make good 
 money at it, take it from me.' 
 
 "Tor what will he get the money?' 
 
 "'Why, for fighting, of course. You get me 
 sick with your foolish questions,' I answered dis- 
 gustedly. 
 
 "'For fighting who and what?' Sonia went on 
 stubbornly. 
 
 "I hardly knew how to answer. Who does not 
 know what prize-fighting is? 
 
 " * Two strong fellows come together to fight, and 
 when one defeats the other, he gets a prize, either 
 in valuable presents or in money,' I tried to explain. 
 
 " J Who pays the prize? ' 
 
 "'Why, the people who come to witness the 
 fight. This is one of the greatest American sports.' 
 
 " ' And what are the results? ' 
 
 " ' I told you what, either one wins or loses.' 
 
76 One of Them 
 
 "'I mean, what happens to the one who loses?' 
 
 '"Oh, nothing; he loses, that's all. Sometimes 
 he loses his teeth, or he breaks an arm or a leg. It 
 is very dangerous to be a prize-fighter. One must 
 be a hero.' 
 
 " ' To be a prize-fighter one must be a hero,' Sonia 
 repeated, looking fixedly at me, and then asked, 
 'Are you not afraid to marry a prize-fighter?' 
 
 "'Is n't she funny?' the girls exclaimed. 
 
 "But Sonia went on. ' Once already he has had 
 his nose slightly deformed, and what if he will one 
 day return home from a victorious fight with his 
 nose smashed altogether, or his legs broken? Will 
 you be proud of him then? Did it ever occur to 
 you that the fellow whom your sweetheart defeats, 
 and perhaps cripples forever, has a mother or a 
 sweetheart or even a wife and children to grieve 
 over him and to curse the man who crippled him?' 
 
 "'If you want me to tell you what "hero" and 
 "heroism" mean, I will,' said Sonia. 
 
 " But the power started and we began our work. 
 A million thoughts crowded my mind. I could not 
 work. The sport of prize-fighting disappeared in- 
 stantly, and I thought, What if Sonia is right? 
 What if Jake should break his legs? I was horror- 
 stricken. I saw my Jake no more a hero. I saw 
 him a piteous cripple on a corner in Grand Street 
 begging for his living, and I shook with fear and 
 disgust. 
 
Sonia Explains Heroism 77 
 
 "After work Sonia waited for me to go home with 
 her. Our ways lay apart. She had to take the 
 subway to the Bronx, I had to walk to Grand 
 Street, but she walked down with me and immedi- 
 ately began : 
 
 " * A hero is some one who does something great 
 for the people, who fights for the good and welfare 
 of his country, who fights for people's freedom, like 
 those heroes in Russia who are exiled to Siberia 
 because they fight for a people's freedom; like 
 George Washington who freed the American people; 
 like Abraham Lincoln who freed the colored people 
 from slavery. A hero is one who risks his own life 
 to save some one else not one who cripples or 
 hurts another for living, or sport. Your sweetheart 
 hopes to make his profession of prize-fighting. 
 Professions and trades ought to be helpful to the 
 human race. A doctor is to heal, not to kill., his 
 patient; a lawyer is to save innocent people and 
 bring them out of difficulties; an engineer is to 
 build better houses, new bridges, more railroads to 
 make it easier for the people to travel. We make 
 waists to clothe the women who cannot sew for 
 themselves. All honest workers make their living 
 by doing something that is good for others. A prize- 
 fighter is like a thief or a murderer, who makes his 
 living by robbing or killing others and the people 
 who enjoy such sports are like Indians who dance 
 around the fire where they burn white men alive/ 
 
78 One of Them 
 
 "I swallowed her words with passion; they were 
 high, strange words, some of which I was unable to 
 understand, but Sonia seemed to have hypnotized 
 me. She was so fascinating while she talked, there 
 was such a strange look in her eyes, I wanted her 
 to tell me more and more. She seemed to know 
 such a lot of things. 
 
 "From that day on the ice-cream parlors, the 
 dance-halls lost their charm. The world seemed 
 to extend much farther than Grand Street. I no 
 more made fun of Soma's sadness. I sought her 
 companionship. Everything about her seemed 
 soVonderful, her quietness was so mysterious. We 
 became friends. I learned from her that she and 
 an older sister had escaped from Siberia when they 
 were exiled. They were just three months in this 
 country, working in the Triangle Factory, when 
 that terrible fire broke out, swallowing a hundred 
 and forty-seven young people, her sister among 
 them. She looked wild as she pictured the terror 
 of that fire. Like a mania the picture of her sister 
 throwing herself out of the burning window follows 
 her day and night. I understood now why she was 
 always so quiet and thoughtful. 
 
 "She spoke to me about the workers getting 
 organized. I did not understand what she meant, 
 but I enthusiastically accepted it. In fact, I liked 
 everything Sonia liked and I wanted to learn and 
 know as much as she did. I began to read, and 
 
Sonia's Influence 79 
 
 soon realized what a worthless thing I had been. 
 I went with Sonia to meetings, became acquainted 
 with a lot more of earnest people. When prepara- 
 tion for a strike began, I threw myself into it, heart 
 and soul. All my energies were now concentrated 
 on organizing workers so as to prevent Triangle 
 fires in the future. There was no end to my happi- 
 ness when the general strike was won. In my shop 
 alone wages were increased one and a half. Yes, 
 thanks to Sonia, I have changed entirely. I go to 
 night school in winter and I read a lot in the 
 summer." 
 
 Absorbed in her story, which she related in an 
 amusing mixture of her old slang and her newly 
 acquired better words, I had not noticed that it was 
 quite late, the streets were deserted, the workers 
 all gone; even our two little pickets were also gone, 
 while we stood talking. 
 
 "And Jake? " I asked, as we turned to walk down 
 the street. 
 
 "Yes, Jake, I spoke to him and told him all 
 that Sonia said and that he would have to choose 
 between me and prize-fighting. Well, he chose to 
 fight. At the time of the strike I saw him among 
 the gang of strike-breakers. I look back now with 
 horror; I realize now that if it were not for Sonia, 
 I might have some day become a member of the 
 underworld by marrying Jake, for only underworld 
 people could accept money for breaking strikes 
 
80 One of Them 
 
 and beating up the strikers who are trying to fight 
 for a human life." 
 
 Before we parted Lena said, "You must meet 
 Sonia some day; she will be so pleased to meet a 
 girl of your kind." 
 
 "Why?" I asked in surprise. "How do you 
 know my kind?" 
 
 "Oh, from the first minute I saw you, I told the 
 girls that you must be somebody ! You remind me 
 so much of Sonia, only you are more cheerful, your 
 eyes are so lively, they jump, jump all the time, in 
 all directions, and I like it." 
 
 Much pleased with being compared to Sonia 
 whom she adored, I promised that I would be glad 
 to meet her and we parted. But I did not return 
 home. I went deeper down into the slums swarm- 
 ing with Italians, Jews, Slavs, and Mongols. The 
 girl's story deeply impressed me, and puzzling 
 questions rose in my mind. Lena had had an 
 opportunity to finish school. Why did she not? 
 Why did she enjoy flirting on the street corners 
 and prefer the dance-halls and ice-cream parlors? 
 
 And as I walked on, nearer and nearer to the 
 tumult, into the hot boiler steaming with trashy 
 humanity, where all sorts of vices can find a splen- 
 did hiding-place, as I made my way through the 
 multitude of children that crowded the sidewalks 
 and thoroughfares, through the masses of suspicious, 
 eagle-eyed young men, lurking about and trying to 
 
Greenhorns and Americans 81 
 
 entice the children for their criminal purposes, an 
 answer rang in a loud, poignant voice. 
 
 Lena was a child of those streets to quote her 
 own words: "The streets were always so lively, but 
 school was too monotonous, they make you mem- 
 orize, memorize and that's all. Of the forty girls 
 in the class, teacher paid most of her attention to 
 the few brightest ones; with the others she had 
 little patience and was glad to be rid of us when 
 school hours were over. Perhaps, if I had had some- 
 body to make me interested in my studies, I would 
 have continued school." 
 
 On questioning her as to her mother's indiffer- 
 ence, she answered: "Oh, I was like many other 
 fools who are ashamed of their parents because 
 they don't speak English, or because of their old- 
 fashioned ways. To me, as to many, my mother 
 was only a 'greenhorn,' a foreigner, and, of course, 
 inferior to me, an Americanized girl. So, you 
 see, my mother had no influence over me." 
 
 How many tragedies are there among foreign 
 families where children consider their elders in- 
 ferior because they fail to acquire the new language 
 and customs! How often have I heard quarrels 
 between mothers and young daughters, or sons, or 
 even tots! 
 
 i "What do you mean? I am an American you 
 are only a greenhorn; you don't even understand 
 what I say. What do you know about it!" 
 

 82 One of Them 
 
 And the poor, embarrassed mother would mur- 
 mur hopelessly, "Eh, Columbus, Columbus!" 
 blaming him for discovering America. 
 
 The children are not taught that the traditional 
 customs and old-fashioned ways of their parents 
 may be just as valuable as their modern American 
 ones. In their ignorance everything not American 
 is repellent to them. 
 
 " Not being controlled by their elders, being lit- 
 tle taken care of in the schools, and living in dirty 
 slums, what becomes of them?" I thought, as I 
 watched the children playing in the streets. 
 
 Lena was converted by Sonia. Oh, how many 
 Sonias we need to convert the Lenas! 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 1 FOUND a position the following week in a 
 union shop. The cheapest line of waists was 
 produced there, but it was very busy. The girls 
 rushed their machines, hardly having time to 
 breathe. From the shop chairlady I learned that 
 the shop was under good union control and that 
 fair prices were paid to the workers. 
 
 Pleased to find a good union shop, I tried hard 
 to increase my speed, but in vain. I was accus- 
 tomed to work with great care, stopping after each 
 seam to examine it, while here the girls threw out 
 from their machines dozen after dozen of gar- 
 ments without stopping to examine a single article. 
 I liked the shop; also the forelady, a little, elderly, 
 but very lively and energetic, German woman. 
 Her soft German accent sounded so encouraging 
 as she spoke to the girls while passing from one 
 machine to the other, finding some pleasant word 
 for each one of them. Very often the kind creature 
 would get scoldings from the boss. "Miss Smith, 
 you neglect my place too much; the girls behave 
 here as if they were out on a picnic. Can't you, 
 once for all, stop that singing and giggling?" 
 
 "Oh, mein lieber Gott!" she would exclaim in 
 defense. "De girls iss young und dey can't help 
 laffing a little." 
 
84 One of Them 
 
 To the girls she would say: "Please, girls, haff 
 a little sense. Don't laff when de boss is around. 
 Don't you see he gifs me hell?" 
 
 Persistently as I tried to quicken my speed, I 
 could not accomplish it. I worked to exhaustion, 
 but did not succeed in making more than $1.10 a 
 day. So I left to look for a better place. 
 
 The hot days began, the heat was frightful, and 
 I had severe headaches. There were some shops 
 in which I was offered a position, but for a salary 
 below the scale. I would have accepted a lower 
 wage until the new season began, but I was afraid 
 that by accepting a lower wage the girl who did 
 receive the scale would be laid off, so I refused to 
 accept. 
 
 I was soon to part with my cozy little sun tub 
 my little room on the top floor. The furniture in it 
 consisted of a single bed, a table, a chair, and a small 
 bookcase my own with a few books. Some 
 art postals brought from Russia hung on the wall. 
 It was very cozy and clean and sunny, though 
 small, and it was the best I had lived in since I had 
 come to America. The greatest comfort in it was 
 the private door into the hallway. I could come 
 and go whenever I chose, without disturbing the 
 people from whom I rented it, and I had to part 
 with it because I could not spare the six dollars a 
 month for rent. 
 
 At that time I learned from some members of 
 
Domestic Service 85 
 
 the Cooperative League of a few apartments which 
 are run on a cooperative basis. The rates were very 
 low $3.50 a month for two in a room, $2.50 a 
 week for board, two meals a day. I found it the 
 cheapest place for me and moved in there, sharing 
 my room with Fannie, whom I had known before. 
 
 I liked Fannie for her fearless participation in the 
 "movement." Her activities in the shops where 
 she tried to organize her fellow-workers had often 
 cost her jobs, but she fearlessly went on agitating. 
 She could never bow her head and make peace with 
 the bad conditions prevailing in the factories and she 
 would always protest against the slightest wrong 
 done to her or her co-workers. 
 
 It surprised me very much to find her doing 
 housework in the cooperative house. I did not 
 think it more attractive than the shop, nor was it 
 exciting to such a restless person as she was. 
 
 I remember, I was asked once why I did not ac- 
 cept domestic work that provides one with a good 
 home, instead of walking around idle for weeks in 
 search of work. In my greatest extremity I would 
 never have considered domestic work. It seemed 
 very degrading to me the thought of giving up 
 all my liberty for a good home if it could be 
 called such where one must serve and obey 
 every member of the family. When everybody is 
 in the dining-room the servant sits alone, eating 
 her dinner by the lonely kitchen stove; when they 
 
86 One of Them 
 
 are all in the sitting-room, she sits alone in the 
 servants' room. When all are out, she must stay 
 in the house; the days and hours for her leisure all 
 prescribed for her. The atmosphere in the shop 
 was slavery enough for me. But if I made my fight 
 by day, I did my work and struggled to gain better 
 conditions for myself and my co-workers. When the 
 shop door closed behind me I belonged to myself. 
 No matter how hard I must fight for my existence, 
 no comfort nor better pay would atone to me for 
 submitting myself to the arbitrary control essen- 
 tial to living as a dependent in somebody else's 
 house. Why I would be nothing but an "I want 
 you." 
 
 To my question, why she was doing it, Fannie 
 answered: "Oh, it is not very interesting, bu,t it is 
 less troublesome. I became heartily tired of the 
 continuous struggle against the boss in the shop, 
 always fearing to lose my job because I have the 
 courage to stand up and point out the wrongs done 
 to us. Never sure of to-morrow's bread; slave 
 day in and day out. Eh, my dear, you'll come to 
 know as much when you are here as long as I am." 
 
 "But is not domestic service even worse slav- 
 ery?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, it is. I would never go into it except 
 in a cooperative house. I am a member of this 
 house as well as others. They work in the shops 
 I work here. As little as I earn, I am more con- 
 
A Night Discussion 87 
 
 tented. I feel free; I am not exploited any more. 
 I fear no boss, no foreman~who would discharge 
 me because I sympathize with my fellow-workers. 
 I can go out whenever I please and do as I please 
 with no fear. Then you must consider that I am 
 working here for an ideal to show that cooperation 
 is possible." 
 
 It was a hot, suffocating night, one of those sum- 
 mer nights when the air in the tenements is ex- 
 hausted and all the fire-escapes and roofs of the 
 East Side and part of Harlem are transformed into 
 bedrooms. We lay in our bed unable to fall asleep 
 inhaling each other's exhaled breath. 
 
 "Let's go to the roof," suggested Fannie. 
 
 The roof was already crowded. Some were 
 asleep, others sat in groups gayly chatting, amus- 
 ing themselves with raising and lowering a pitch 
 in accordance with the snoring of their neighbors. 
 
 We settled down near a small group who were 
 engaged in a hot discussion about value of cooper- 
 ative land. 
 
 "But here," said one, looking around, "all these 
 people would rather choke with the suffocating 
 city air than go to land." 
 
 "Yes, it is true, they would rather stay here than 
 become lonely farmers," was the rejoinder. 
 
 "Why are farmers deserting their homesteads 
 for the city? Is it not because their life becomes 
 too monotonous? Why are hundreds of city people 
 
88 One of Them 
 
 who started out on the land returning to the city 
 with their money lost? Is it not because they felt 
 too lonely?" 
 
 "There are other reasons for it," said a third. 
 "The city people lack the knowledge and experi- 
 ence necessary to succeed on a farm. And often 
 they have not sufficient money for modern farm 
 equipment." 
 
 "We can succeed in bringing back the men to 
 the land only on a cooperative basis. We need to 
 create cooperative colonies, that will furnish con- 
 genial society and all necessary equipment, and 
 also instruction for would-be farmers. That is what 
 we need." 
 
 I lay stretched on a blanket, paying little atten- 
 tion to their cooperative farms. My eyes were fixed 
 on the view from the roof overlooking the spacious 
 reservoir in Central Park, where the clear blue sky 
 and the bright full moon found their reflections. 
 The gigantic trees threw long shadows over it, color- 
 ing the water a dark green. A heavy melancholy 
 swept over me. I looked around me. What was I 
 doing here on this roof among all these people? 
 
 I felt the roof, the people, the thick air, as a 
 million-pound weight on me. 
 
 My heart, my soul, everything within me was 
 rent in pieces. I devoured the scene with wide-open 
 eyes, as if trying to embrace the high blue sky, the 
 trees, the water, and breathe it, breathe it all in. 
 
Daybreak on the Roof 89 
 
 My head grew dull and heavy, the sounds of my 
 neighbors' heated discussion came fainter and 
 fainter until they died away and out of the 
 quietness came soft sweet sounds of a doleful Rus- 
 sian Burlak's song, "Uchnem." Soon I was im- 
 mersed in the melancholy melody, which caught 
 and carried me higher and higher, close to the sky. 
 I could almost touch it and feel the blueness, were 
 my hands not paralyzed. I was swung in warm 
 soft clouds and lulled by something so charmingly 
 sweet and mournful until the sounds all died 
 away. 
 
 Startled by a deep sigh, I opened my eyes and 
 saw Fannie sitting near me, her hands clasped 
 tightly behind her head, her widely opened eyes 
 looking wistfully toward the east. 
 
 The day was just beginning to break, transform- 
 ing the dark night into the gray morning. A big 
 round spot melted and reddened the horizon. 
 Fascinated, I sat up watching the sun mount. 
 
 Another loud sigh heaved from Fannie's heart. 
 
 "How wonderful, how glorious nature is!" 
 Fannie murmured wistfully. 
 
 jl looked down to the reservoir. Its greenish 
 water gleamed out from the trees. 
 
 "Let's go to the park," I suggested. 
 
 "Yes, let's go'down there," she said approvingly. 
 
 Quietly we walked down from the roof and off 
 to the park. The streets were deserted, only the 
 
90 One of Them 
 
 clattering of a passing milk-cart or bread-wagon 
 disturbed the silence from time to time. 
 
 The leaves and grass were moistened with the 
 morning dew; [the fragrance all around was deli- 
 riously sweet. The birds singing and twittering 
 their morning songs greeted us merrily. 
 
 Assured that no policeman was around so early, 
 for it is forbidden to lie on the grass, we 
 spread our blanket near the reservoir and leisurely 
 stretched ourselves on it. 
 
 "Oh, Lisa, how wonderful it is to be able to enjoy 
 all this!" she said longingly. "I hope that you 
 won't spend your youth in the shops." 
 
 "You don't want me to graduate into domestic 
 service!" I said indignantly (that traditional, dis- 
 dainful feeling about domestic service strongly 
 clinging to me). 
 
 "I do not mean that, you little idiot. I am 
 speaking of your appearance. You can graduate 
 into something better and more worth while," she 
 added, looking at me with envious admiration. 
 
 I looked up at her. Nature had really been a 
 little severe with her a very romantic soul, she 
 longed for love, for admiration, but was often un- 
 noticed. Having no desire to discuss myself, I 
 turned our conversation to something else. 
 
 "What about your activities, Fannie? Did you 
 give them up with the shop?" 
 
 "Oh, no, not at all. I only grew tired with the 
 
It Goes so Slow 91 
 
 slowness of the trade-union movement. Those 
 peaceful agreements only tie the workers up. The 
 trade-union motives are too conservative. Their 
 only demands are for shorter hours and for a raise 
 in wages." 
 
 "But, Fannie, that means so much," I argued. 
 "The shorter hours in the shop enable us to devote \ 
 more time to our spiritual development, the raise in I 
 wages enables us to get more wholesome food and 
 worthy recreation. With time and money the best 
 things can be accomplished." 
 
 "But it goes so awfully slow!" 
 
 I could not dispute with her very much for I 
 considered my knowledge of the trade-union move- 
 ment not complete enough to defend it. 
 
 The sun had risen high when we started home. 
 I did not like to leave the park, but in my ears still 
 rang the words of my one-time foreman "If you 
 think that you can live on nice mornings or May 
 holidays, do not come in to work." 
 
 No, I could not live on beautiful mornings. I had 
 to work in order to live, I knew that, and 
 again I started out to look for work, knowing that 
 my work would pay me only for a bare subsistence, 
 not for a living. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 IT was hard to find a job on dresses or waists at 
 that time, but I recalled that the season on 
 sweaters had just started. I got a morning paper 
 and found a job through the advertisements. It was 
 on Grand Street, on the ground floor, in a room at 
 the back, with two small windows facing a dark, 
 narrow yard. Two knitting-machines occupied 
 almost the whole length of the room. On the side 
 there stood a table with five machines two 
 pocket and facing, one cutting, one button-hole, 
 and one button machine. The space between the 
 table and the wall was only wide enough for the 
 chairs to be placed. I was given the last machine. 
 After working three days, I asked the price. The 
 boss told me to wait until Saturday so that he 
 could test my worth. 
 
 The conditions in that shop it looked more like 
 a stable were terrible. It was swept only on 
 Saturdays, for in order to sweep it some articles had 
 to be moved and that was too much trouble for the 
 middle of the week. The dust and lint from the 
 wool were inhaled instead of air. I could hardly 
 speak in the evening, my throat would be so 
 clogged with wool. 
 
 Here again I met with the same type of girls that 
 
Another Sweater Shop 93 
 
 I had met in my first sweater shop I once more 
 came in contact with the queens of imitation. 
 There were only four of them, very young girls, but 
 their high pompadours and their paint and powder 
 added years to their faces. In those merciless hot 
 days, when the perspiration pouring down would 
 leave grimy streaks alternating with blotches of 
 powder, their faces were grotesque. Their paleness, 
 their thinness, all about them bore the imprints of 
 their sweated labor conditions, but they cared lit- 
 tle. In the evening, as soon as the power stopped, 
 powder-puffs were extracted from stockings, faces 
 were smeared again, the aprons changed for the 
 latest style of short hobble-skirts, and off they 
 went to pace Grand Street, the East Side Avenue. 
 
 I waited until Saturday and again asked for my 
 price. My boss, who had evidently been in the 
 business but a short time, asked me to wait another 
 week. 
 
 "I am sorry, but I can't stay for a two weeks' 
 test," I said. He offered me six dollars a week. 
 "What! Six dollars for such a hard week's work, 
 fifty-four hours of life in that dirty slum?" I cried 
 in angry surprise, enraged by his offer. "Give me 
 m y P a y> please, I shall not stay here a minute 
 longer." He did not give me the pay, and after an 
 hour's bargaining, I remained for nine dollars a 
 week. If I had only had a few dollars to tide me 
 over the dull season, I would never have remained 
 
94 One of Them 
 
 there for any amount of money, but I saw six 
 weeks of idleness staring me in the face and that 
 determined me. I hated the place, I hated the 
 boss. I pitied the girls, driven and scolded by 
 that miser of a boss, they accepted everything 
 without protest. Their self-respect was lost under 
 the weight of ignorance and bad conditions. 
 
 "Why don't you wash your hands?" I asked 
 them, seeing their unwashed, oily hands touch their 
 food. 
 
 "Oh, you expect us to wash our hands when we 
 have only half an hour's time?" 
 
 "Why not? It is more important than to powder 
 your faces during the half -hour," I answered. 
 "Your cheap powder and paint ruin your faces 
 and your unwashed hands poison you." 
 
 "As if you won't use any powder," they said, 
 looking suspiciously at me. 
 
 "I surely do not," I said; and I went on, giving 
 them my bit of knowledge of hygiene. 
 
 Their suspicion changed into confidence and they 
 began to like me. 
 
 In our daily conversations I tried to discover if 
 they had any knowledge of workers' unions. 
 
 They knew there was a knitting-workers' union, 
 but they had never cared to know more about it. 
 
 "Why don't you join such a union? Is it not 
 worth while to fight for a shorter-hour day? Is it 
 not important to have an hour for lunch so that 
 
Discontent in the Union 95 
 
 you could wash your hands and rest a little before 
 you resume work? Do you know what it means 
 to your health to work in this room?" 
 
 "Hey, hey, there! Stop talking! Time is 
 money!" would come the voice of the boss from 
 the other corner. 
 
 "Sure it is!" I found satisfaction in mimicking 
 his tone. But talking had to stop. How I wished 
 that the season on dresses would begin so I could 
 leave that hateful place. 
 
 I began to attend the regular meetings of the 
 Waist and Dressmakers' Union so as to follow up 
 the news of the trade, but not much could be 
 learned at them. The time was taken mostly 
 by a few discontented members who interrupted 
 the meetings to accuse the union leaders of dis- 
 honesty. They were prejudiced by their bosses 
 through the sort of lectures I was often given on 
 the unreliability of the labor leaders. Their minds 
 were poisoned and ignorant of the facts. If a com- 
 plaint was taken up and the case was decided in 
 favor of the manufacturer, they would ascribe the 
 decision to treachery on the part of the leaders, 
 and nothing would convince them that they were 
 wrong. Many of the members protested against 
 those few for killing their time, but it was impossi- 
 ble to quiet them. Each succeeding meeting was 
 less and less attended. 
 
 I did not know the leaders at that time. I 
 
96 One of Them 
 
 thought that they might possibly lack ambition 
 or energy to push matters for the members; they 
 might be to blame for not understanding the people 
 thoroughly; but I was sure of their honesty. 
 
 As I could gain so little from the meetings, I 
 thought I would study the trade-union movement 
 from its history, but with fifty-four hours a week 
 in that disagreeable sweater shop, I was too tired 
 to do any other work. My evenings I spent in my 
 favorite corner near the reservoir in Central Park. 
 Sundays, friends took me out bathing. 
 I Another girl who came to the shop to do the same 
 work as I, inquired of me about the work and the 
 salary to be expected. I told her all I knew and of 
 my experiences with the boss. 
 
 "You be careful; he will surely try to bargain 
 with you for two weeks," I said; adding: "Is it not 
 a pity to sell fifty-four hours of your life in such a 
 place for nine dollars a week?" 
 
 "What do you mean?" she asked, not under- 
 standing me. 
 
 But from the other side came an angry voice. 
 "Hey, hey, there! Stop talking! Time is money!" 
 and I had not the chance to explain to her any 
 further. 
 
 On Saturday, when the girl asked her price, she 
 also was offered six dollars. 
 
 "Why, am I slower than the other girl?" she 
 inquired. 
 
Disputes over Wages 97 
 
 "Who says you are?" 
 
 " Because she gets nine. " 
 
 "Who says she gets nine? Hey, hey, there! 
 Come over here! Who said you were getting nine 
 dollars a week?" 
 
 "Why, of course, I am getting nine dollars a 
 week; you yourself are paying me the money." 
 
 "It's a lie," he said; "I never pay that much for 
 this kind of work." 
 
 My eyes filled with rage at his words. 
 
 "You should be ashamed to act that way!" 
 I cried out. "If you would pay me a thousand 
 dollars, I would not stay in your shop a minute 
 longer!" 
 
 So my term ended and I still had to wait a few 
 weeks for the season on dresses. 
 
 Oh! how I hated to enter another sweater shop, 
 but I had to. After about two weeks in two other 
 shops, the heat, the dust, and the filthy surround- 
 ings drove me from them, and I decided to stay 
 home until the season on dresses started. I felt 
 guilty walking around in the park those mornings. 
 It seemed as if I had no right to enjoy the fresh 
 air, the trees, and the flowers, for I had to get work. 
 But I could not enter the sweater shops again. 
 
 I was so happy when one of my friends found a 
 position for me on samples. Now, I thought, I 
 shall be settled at last. 
 
 In that little shop there were only four of us 
 
98 One of Them 
 
 including the forelady. She was a very thin, pale- 
 faced woman of about thirty. She appeared to be 
 tired out from her long years of work. Her big round 
 blue eyes looked very dull, her face bore traces of 
 past beauty. I sympathized with her and wished 
 to be friends with her, but she did not treat me very 
 friendly. She seemed to be envious of my youth, 
 for I made a big contrast to her I was full of life, 
 each vein, each move of mine beat with life. I do 
 not know what feeling she had toward the boss, 
 but she seemed to feel hurt if he happened to smile 
 at me. The forelady would try to put me back in 
 my work. Realizing that she did it purposely, I 
 thought it better to leave. I was not worried now 
 the season had started and it would be easy to find 
 a job. 
 
 With bitterness in my heart I recall that sum- 
 mer of so many unwilling adventures which I had 
 encountered in my endeavor to get settled at work. 
 When I left the last shop, I found a job as draper 
 the next day. It was an independent union shop. 
 About sixty people worked there. All were piece- 
 workers, even the finishers, and I was told that all 
 earned good wages. There were four drapers, who 
 earned from twenty-six to thirty dollars a week. 
 I only made a dollar and a half the first day, and 
 in the evening the boss called me over and said : 
 
 "Listen, little girl. I like your work very much, 
 but you are too slow. I need the quickest hands." 
 
Sample-making 99 
 
 "Oh, but this is the first day. I will work much 
 more quickly when I am accustomed to it," I ap- 
 pealed to him. 
 
 "I am sorry, but I am in a rush with my work. 
 Can you run a machine?" 
 , "Oh, yes, I am a sample-maker." 
 
 "Then I have a job for you. The jobbers for 
 whom I am doing contracting need sample-makers. 
 If you wish, you can go up there in the morning 
 to work." 
 
 The next morning I reported to the place as 
 directed. All the work was made by outside con- 
 tractors, who sent the finished garments to the 
 jobber's office, where they were packed and shipped 
 to the customers. 
 
 The designer liked my work and paid me the 
 sample-worker's scale fourteen dollars a week. 
 Fourteen dollars a week! Was I not fortunate? 
 I thought. I sat calculating and planning how to 
 manage it. I'll manage to live on six dollars, hire 
 a teacher so I can study English, spend a dollar a 
 week on opera when the season opens, and save the 
 rest. 
 
 I was happy, very happy. 
 
 My new boss, the jobber, was a very sickly man, 
 so that his wife was the actual manager of the 
 place. She was very harsh. All day she would just 
 wander from the office into the sample-room, from 
 there to the packing-room, from the packing-room 
 
100 One of Them 
 
 to the show-room, and back. Her unpleasant, com- 
 menting voice would be heard continuously. Even 
 the boss feared her, and would shrivel in her pres- 
 ence. With young girls, however, he behaved 
 much more bravely and, seizing favorable moments 
 when his wife was not around, he would flirt with 
 the models and the packers and often act very 
 shamelessly. 
 
 Nor did I escape his attention. One morning 
 when I was alone in the sample-room he came in. 
 
 " Good-morning, my dear." 
 
 " Good-morning," I said quietly, busying my- 
 self in my work so as to cut off any conversation, 
 for I did not like to be alone in the room with him. 
 
 "My! what curly hair you have! Is it not beau- 
 tiful!" he said, beginning to smooth my hair. I 
 blushed and moved away. "Do not be afraid, 
 I will not hurt you," he whispered, his eyes wan- 
 dering all over me. "What a wonderful form you 
 have. If you were only a few inches taller, you 
 would make a perfect model, would n't you?" 
 His face melted into an impudent smile. 
 
 Again I moved away in indignation, but before 
 I could open my mouth to speak, his wife stood in 
 the open door, her eyes filled with rage at her hus- 
 band. He shrivelled and immediately slipped out 
 of the room. 
 
 "So you are flirting with an old man for 
 shame!" 
 
Accused of Flirting 101 
 
 Tears came to my eyes, a lump swelled in my 
 throat. 
 
 "Why, I I did not know that he would dare 
 behave so to me," I cried out, gasping for breath. 
 
 She laughed. "You act as innocent as a nun, 
 eh, sample-maker? Now, you get your hat and go. 
 This is no place for you, you sample flirter." 
 
 "I have given you no right to abuse me that 
 way," I said, through my tears. 
 
 But she would not listen to me. 
 
 "Goon! Goon! Your pay will be ready." 
 
 I put my hat on. "Oh, you are a madwoman," 
 I said, and rushed out. 
 
 Tears were flowing all my way home, and when 
 I reached my room I broke into hysterical sobs. 
 
 "What happened?" Fannie asked, trying to 
 comfort me. 
 
 "Oh, Fannie, does it pay? Why, why must I 
 suffer so much? Am I an idler? Don't I want to 
 work? But why, in order to get work, must we 
 endure insults and humiliations?" 
 
 "Now, now, calm yourself! WTiat is the matter?" 
 
 I told her all that had happened. 
 
 "Just think of what I have gone through this 
 summer ! A new job almost every other day, small 
 wages, sweat-shop surroundings! Oh, Fannie, it 
 is outrageous! Where will it end?" 
 
 A deep sympathetic sigh answered my despair. 
 
 "Why don't you get married, Lisa? You are so 
 
102 One of Them 
 
 young, so full of life. It's a sin to waste it. You 
 are so pretty you would make an ideal, darling 
 wife." 
 
 "Is that an ideal? Is marriage the remedy for 
 the working-girl? Why, it is ridiculous, Fannie! 
 You are too intelligent to talk like that. The kind 
 of man I shall marry is likely to be a poor wage- 
 earner, also exploited as we all are, and our lives 
 would be miserable under the present conditions. 
 As for marrying for money you know what 
 I think of marriage without love. Above all, I 
 believe in the economic independence of women. 
 Conditions must be created so that the girl shall 
 not be driven from the shop. (The long hours, the 
 unsanitary conditions, the small wages, the fre- 
 quent slack seasons, drive the self-supporting, un- 
 protected girl sometimes to a life of shame, some- 
 times to suicide, and more often to marry any one 
 who proposes to her. /She finds that the easiest 
 way, and she goes on breeding human stock for 
 misery's pleasure. Eh! What an ugly, contempt- 
 ible world this is! I am trying so hard to bring my 
 family over here to save them from the Russian 
 autocratic teeth, but I would rather see my sisters 
 dead than see them enduring humiliations from 
 such a debauchee as that jobber. Brr! It throws 
 me into a fever when I think of it." 
 
 When my nerves quieted a little, I went out and 
 aimlessly wandered around until I found myself 
 
Dark Forebodings 103 
 
 on Riverside Drive. On a bench facing the Hud- 
 son, I sat for a long time, absorbed in thinking. 
 Am I not to find a decent place where I can work 
 and get a living wage? Is my appearance to pre- 
 vent me from keeping a job? I hated my face 
 that day, because it had attracted that clumsy fool 
 and had made me lose my job at fourteen precious 
 dollars a week. 
 
 The thought that I had to go out early in the 
 morning and look for another position, the fear 
 that I might get a shop similar to the previous one, 
 made me so unhappy that I felt I could much 
 easier jump into the Hudson. Yet work I had to 
 get. During the last six weeks I had had only two 
 scanty meals a day, for I had to provide car-fare 
 and could not spare a dime for lunch. My younger 
 brother was soon to arrive from Russia, and I would 
 have to help him. 
 
 The sun had already hidden her last golden 
 rays; twilight fell upon the Hudson. I still sat on 
 the bench, having no inclination to move. The 
 warm, pleasant evening rapidly enfolded me, 
 spreading its mysterious beauty all around me. 
 I sat as if in paradise in comparison with my 
 room where the air was so choking this hot July 
 month. 
 
 Boats all kinds of them swam up and down 
 the river, leaving the water wavering in long strips 
 behind them. Their noise allured me it made 
 
104 One of Them 
 
 me homesick. It reminded me of past days when 
 on the river at home, bordered by willow trees, we 
 would row and sing in the quiet evenings. Some- 
 times our young, happy voices were caught by the 
 wind and carried away to the older folks, who sat 
 quietly after a day's work, resting on benches near 
 their homes. Far out on the river away from civi- 
 lization, away from the gendarmes, we gave vent 
 to our revolutionary songs songs of our future 
 freedom. Filled with hope, our voices went ringing 
 higher and higher, echoed by the wood near by. 
 How sweetly those days had passed, days full of 
 hope, full of wonderful faith in the future! And 
 here I sat now, broken-hearted, disappointed, tired 
 out. "Life! Life! Oh, happiness where is thy sweet- 
 ness!" A mortal anguish swept over me, wrapping 
 me in a heavy melancholy, dragging me down to 
 the waters where the many little fires of the " Pal- 
 isades" took their evening dips in the dark, quiet 
 waves of the Hudson. That spacious river below, 
 those beautiful stars above, the graceful trees 
 around me oh, the glory of it ! I drank it, 
 drank it to intoxication. 
 
 In my ecstasy I would not have thought of leav- 
 ing the park had not my stomach called for food. 
 I had had nothing to eat since early morning, so I 
 made my way toward home. 
 
CHAPTER Vn 
 
 I WALKED along Riverside Drive past the co- 
 lossal hotels and beautiful private homes. No 
 light was seen in any of them. It was a pity that 
 such comfortable homes were empty most of the 
 year. Their dwellers fly from one country to an- 
 other, from one resort to another, to spend their 
 time. They never worry for bread, they never 
 fear to lose their jobs, they never wander in the 
 parks with hungry stomachs. They have people 
 thousands of people in mines or factories or 
 stores, who sweat for them, who hammer out the 
 gold, or dig the coal for them, and they easily 
 spend the wealth, never giving a thought to the 
 hard labor of so many thousands of people, who, 
 with their happiness and often with their lives, pay 
 for the pleasure of those few who spend their lives 
 in long vacations and eternal luxury. "How many 
 people of the East Side, how many families cooped 
 up in tenements, could enjoy these vacant com- 
 fortable dwellings and this lovely air of Riverside 
 Drive and Hudson River!" thought I. "Here the 
 houses stand of no use to anybody. Oh, how un- 
 fair, how unfair, the present system of life is! 
 Here am I willing to work, to earn a decent liv- 
 ing, willing to sell my hands, but get nothing, while 
 
106 One of Them 
 
 those who never work have more than they need." 
 Did I envy the rich that evening? Oh, no! I hated 
 them ! I hated them ! for they were worse than high- 
 way robbers robbers who fear nobody in the 
 world, who rule the world with their iron power. 
 And the world tolerates them! 
 
 In the morning I found another job as draper, 
 but only for a few days. It was a protocol shop. 
 The drapers worked on an optional system 
 some were week-workers, some were piece-workers. 
 If a piece-worker refused a price offered by the 
 boss on a certain garment, that style was made up 
 by the week-workers the system created com- 
 petition between the two classes. 
 
 When I asked the chairlady who represented the 
 workers why she allowed that, she answered, "Oh, 
 I can't help it; the girls don't care themselves, 
 and I can't waste time in making them see that 
 they injure themselves." 
 
 "But can't you speak to the boss?" 
 
 "The boss purposely wants to keep one worker 
 against another. When I spoke to him, he told me 
 that he runs the business as it best suits him. If the 
 girls would care, I would complain to the union." 
 
 If the times had been better for me, I would have 
 stayed there and tried to help do away with that 
 system, but I needed money badly before my 
 brother should come, and working there I could 
 not make very much at the start, so I left. 
 
An Offer Refused 107 
 
 The next job I got was on Spring Street. It was 
 a very small place. I had to make samples and do 
 the draping and a good many other things. After 
 two days the boss came to me and told me he 
 needed some one to watch the few girls, but as his 
 place was small he could not afford to get a fore- 
 lady, so he wanted me to take charge of the oper- 
 ators. The finishers, he said, he would look after 
 himself. 
 
 I refused without hesitation. How could I be- 
 come aforelady? That would mean to carry out all 
 the instructions of the boss, for I could not keep 
 such a job if I did not obey his orders. I would have 
 to hurry the girls with their work, I would have to 
 bargain with them on prices and always take the 
 bosses' side, offering the girls less than they de- 
 served. I would have to order them to work over- 
 time when they were tired from a hard day's work. 
 
 "Oh, no, not I, I could not do it," I said to the 
 employer. 
 
 "Then I'll have to look for somebody else who 
 will do it," he said. 
 
 I got another job that same day. It was on 
 Madison Avenue. I remember the place was so 
 light and clean. The foreman, a middle-aged, 
 kindly-faced man, treated the people fairly. For 
 the few days I stayed there, I never heard him 
 shout at a girl. My salary was to be thirteen dol- 
 lars to start with. On Saturday, after work, I went 
 
108 One of Them 
 
 to the foreman, asking him if I could possibly get 
 my pay, for I was in need and could not wait until 
 Tuesday the regular pay-day. The foreman 
 told me it was against the rule of the house to pay 
 money before Tuesday, but he would make an 
 exception with me. In a few minutes he took me 
 into the office and told me to wait until my pay was 
 made out. As I waited, the boss came in a tall, 
 handsome young man with a wealth of dark bushy 
 hair and big round blue eyes. 
 
 "What is it you are waiting for, young lady?" 
 he asked. 
 
 I excused myself for asking for my pay on Sat- 
 urday, and explained to him why I needed the 
 money. 
 
 f When the bookkeeper had my pay made out she 
 left. I still waited for the money. The boss sat 
 at his desk writing. I had no courage to disturb 
 him, so I sat and waited. At last he stood up, 
 straightened himself, and smiled at me. 
 
 "So you are in hardship too bad, too bad." 
 Then he took my pay, looked at it, fixed his eyes 
 on me, and asked: "Is that all you get?" 
 
 "No, I get thirteen, but this is only for two days 
 and a half," I said, already regretting to have 
 aroused his pity. 
 
 "But, my dear girl, that would not be enough 
 for you. Don't you need more than that?" 
 A thrill ran through my body when I noticed 
 
Unwelcome Attentions 109 
 
 how he was measuring me with his eyes while he 
 spoke. I felt what that glance in his eyes meant. 
 It was quiet in the shop, everybody had left, even 
 the foreman. There in the office I sat on a chair, 
 the boss stood near me with my pay in his hand, 
 speaking to me in a velvety, soft voice. Alas! 
 nobody around. I sat trembling with fear. 
 
 He spoke. I did not hear what he said. In- 
 stinctively, I stood up and stretched out my hand 
 for my pay. "Wait a moment; I will give you some 
 more." But no more had I time to refuse when he 
 grasped me in his arms. 
 
 I screamed, and with superhuman strength 
 threw him from me and ran into the hall. Luckily, 
 the elevator stopped at the same moment as I 
 rushed out of the office. I ran into it. 
 
 Breathless and pale, I reached home and madly 
 ran up the stairs. The people in .the house were 
 alarmed seeing my paleness, but I gave no expla- 
 nation. In my room I closed my door, hid my face 
 in the pillow, and cried, cried all afternoon. How 
 I hated men, all of them without exception! I 
 stood up before the mirror and studied my face, 
 trying to find out if there was anything in it that 
 awakened men's impudent feelings toward me. I 
 hated my youth, it had caused me so many pain- 
 ful humiliations. When I went into the dining- 
 room, I thought all the men there followed me with 
 the same rude looks as that vicious boss. If I could 
 
110 One of Them 
 
 only discredit that man so that he would never 
 dare to insult a working-girl again! If only I could 
 complain of him in court! But I had no witnesses 
 to testify the truth; with my broken English I 
 could give very little explanation. Besides that, 
 if I were working in a shop and were called to court, 
 the firm might suspect some evil in me and send 
 me away. So I left him alone and never went to 
 collect my money, although I was in a frightful 
 need. 
 
 Before bedtime I cried again. 
 
 "What is the matter now?" Fannie asked. 
 
 She knew nothing. I was ashamed to tell her 
 the truth. 
 
 "I lost my pay on the way home," said I. 
 
 "Oh, you stupid thing! You should be more 
 careful with your money." 
 
 "Yes, I was careful, very careful; that is why 
 I lost it." 
 
 I was so sorry for those few dollars which could 
 do me so much good those dark days. 
 
 I could not sleep. The day's events vividly ap- 
 peared before me, and in the silence of the night 
 my shattered nerves started their nightmare trick 
 shrinking, wrangling, jumping, heaving, split- 
 ting my head. Hideous long shadows gathered 
 about, dancing wildly, screaming with laughter 
 through their gnashing teeth. Hands hundreds 
 of hands with sharpened nails stretched out to 
 
So Many Shops 111 
 
 me. They danced, they laughed, they screamed, 
 they conquered. 
 
 Sunday, going out to Bath Beach with a friend, 
 I was introduced to an aunt of his. When she 
 learned I was out of work, she gave me a card to 
 her brother, who was a jobber on waists, and whose 
 son kept a small waist-shop in the same place. 
 She assured me that through her recommendation 
 I should get a job. 
 
 On Monday morning I was up early. The 
 thought of a new job made me so uneasy that 
 I could hardly sleep. My bitter experience with 
 my last shop pictured me all the bosses as vulgar 
 and rude as the one from whom I ran away on 
 Saturday. A religious mood possessed me that 
 morning. In my despairing helplessness I blindly 
 sought for a higher power whom I might invoke 
 for protection. If there was an Almighty he should 
 at last turn to us, the insulted ones, the humiliated, 
 the searchers for everyday bread. But there was 
 no such God, or else he would not tolerate such 
 misery! So many shops I had tried in a period of 
 eleven weeks, and what did I find? Shops where 
 people were treated as slaves shops where work- /' 
 ers looked like shadows, with symptoms of tuber- 
 culosis shops where young girls were subject 
 to the vulgar and rude desires of some scoundrel 
 bosses. Oh, how dreadful, how dreadful! 
 
112 One of Them 
 
 But I had to forget it all. My brother was 
 already on his way to New York. I had to provide 
 some money for him, and there I stood penniless. 
 I had to find a job and try to keep it if I did not 
 want to starve together with him. For myself 
 I cared not much, but my younger brother for 
 him I was responsible. 
 
 "After all, I'm not the only one," I thought. 
 "I'm one of them! One of so many thousands of 
 young girls, who struggle so hard for their every- 
 day bread, whose youth and beauty fade in those 
 hateful shops without a ray of happiness." 
 
 I made up my mind to devote myself to the 
 work, not to care for the surroundings, not to think 
 of the rights or wrongs. 
 
 I went with the card that the woman at Bath 
 Beach had given me to her brother, and got the 
 job. 
 
 The first few days I was so absorbed in my work 
 that I did not even notice the people with whom I 
 worked. I spoke to no one except the girl who sat 
 next to me, when I needed to ask anything about 
 the work. I noticed she was a good worker. She 
 told me that she had been employed by this firm 
 for the last three years, and was a sort of forelady 
 over the few girls who were not competent in the 
 work. She also had made all the samples before 
 I came. All she was getting was ten dollars a week. 
 "And I hope to get a dollar raise," she said with 
 
A Sweat-shop 113 
 
 pride. She also told me that she had been a dress- 
 maker in Russia. 
 
 "Goodness!" I thought, "she a dressmaker 
 from Russia three years' experience in the same 
 place making all the samples, a bit of a fore- 
 lady, and gets ten dollars a week! What could I, 
 not being a dressmaker from Russia, not having 
 three years of experience, nor titled as forelady, 
 expect to get here?" 
 
 Though I knew that my work was good, the 
 foreman liked it, still I feared that he might not 
 pay me more than nine or ten dollars. But I sat 
 still; I did not ask for a price until the week was 
 over. 
 
 Although absorbed in the work, I nevertheless 
 raised my head from time to time to observe the 
 surroundings. The place was on the first floor. 
 Its length extended from Seventeenth to Eight- 
 eenth Street. In the Seventeenth Street front was 
 the shipping department; the Eighteenth Street 
 end was taken up by the office and show-room. 
 The very dark middle space gave shelter to the 
 small factory, its windows facing narrow court- 
 yards. Sunshine could never reach them, the 
 buildings being so high and close to each other. 
 We had to work by gas-lights from morning till 
 evening. The windows and the sink were covered 
 with dirt an inch high; they were seldom cleaned. 
 The table with the machines stood close to the 
 
114 One of Them 
 
 wall, and we had plenty of dust to inhale from the 
 windows and the yard; also the smell of the rot- 
 ten sausages of the "Busy Bee" restaurant which 
 was in the next basement. 
 
 In the middle of the week two girls left. They 
 were the best operators. Sadie, the girl next to me, 
 told me that they only stayed there for the dull 
 season. Now, when it became busy, they went 
 back to their old places. 
 
 "For, you see, in a union shop they make more 
 money in the busy season," she said. 
 
 (So this was no union shop! My chance!) 
 
 "Does it pay for you to stay here?" I asked. 
 "Don't you think you could get a job for fifteen 
 dollars a week, such an experienced worker as you 
 are?" 
 
 "Oh, I know I could," she replied, "but I am 
 not going to leave this place. The boss has prom- 
 ised to make me his forelady." (To become a fore- 
 lady was her highest ambition.) "He also wanted 
 me to get him green girls for help. You know he 
 does not like the Americanized girls they fuss 
 too much, and very often make trouble in the shop, 
 while green girls are quiet and don't kick about the 
 pay." 
 
 "And do you get green help for your boss?" 
 
 "Surely," she answered. "Almost all the girls, 
 except the few Italians, I brought here, as soon as 
 they came over from Russia. Don't you think the 
 
The New Girls' Chance 115 
 
 boss is a fine man? He told me he likes to give a 
 chance to the poor green girls, who don't know 
 where to look for work." 
 
 "And how much does he pay them?" 
 
 "Well, the first three weeks they work for noth- 
 ing. Then he begins to pay three dollars a week, 
 raising a dollar or half a dollar every season. Now, 
 excuse me, I have talked too much. I've got to 
 work," she said, bending down her head to the 
 machine. 
 
 She began to rush in order to make up for the loss 
 of the few minutes' talk she had with me. 
 
 My mind was full of thoughts. I forgot that 
 I determined to think only of the work. I could 
 not keep the promise to my own self. I looked at 
 the girls around the table, and I thought of them ! 
 They were all so youthful, most of them were 
 seventeen, eighteen years old, as yet not hurt by 
 hard work, and what did they get? Three, four, 
 or five dollars a week; perhaps some of them a little 
 more than that. And how they were rushed, and 
 scolded by the foreman, who sometimes used such 
 language that would make a Russian Cossack 
 blush! And how did they live? Did they also, like 
 me, walk around in the street sometimes a whole 
 day, without a single meal in their mouth? Did 
 they also, in the hottest summer days, passing by 
 a restaurant, stop to inhale the smell of delicious 
 roasts which awakened such a painful hunger in 
 
116 One of Them 
 
 the stomach? With pain in my heart I felt that 
 their youth will with no mercy be crushed prema- 
 turely under such conditions, and I had a desire to 
 talk and warn them. 
 
 When the week was over, I asked the foreman 
 for a price. He nearly fainted when I told him I 
 wanted fourteen dollars a week. It was fortunate 
 for me that the two girls had left in the middle of 
 the week, for the foreman, being very busy and 
 having few skilled workers, was afraid to lose me, 
 too. So after two hours' bargaining, I remained 
 there for thirteen dollars a week, but was strongly 
 forbidden to tell anybody in the shop of the 
 "extravagant amount" I was getting. I was the 
 highest-paid worker in that shop. 
 
CHAPTER Vm 
 
 NOW that I was getting such an "enormous 
 amount of money," I could afford to buy 
 lunches. But I was saving for my brother, and 
 could only spare a few cents each day. A peddler 
 used to come every noontime and sell food to the 
 girls. In his small basket he had bread, sardines, 
 sausages, and salmon. I bought a box of sardines 
 for six cents and some bread. The very same day 
 I was seized with terrible cramps which put me to 
 bed. I suppose my stomach was a little weakened 
 from the weeks of irregularity in my meals, and 
 could not digest the cheap old sardines. The doctor 
 took my case very seriously. He told me to follow 
 the prescribed diet : fresh chicken soup, fresh eggs, 
 and cooked fruit, nothing else; then be out in the 
 fresh air in the morning as long as I could. 
 
 I smiled. How naive those doctors were ! Where 
 could I get fresh chicken soup every day? Surely 
 not in the cooperative house, where we paid two 
 and a half dollars a week for board! And fresh 
 air? Oh, I had had enough of it during the long 
 dull season. 
 
 In three days I grew so pale, so thin, that when 
 my friend Clara saw me, I frightened her. 
 
 "What happened?" she asked in anxiety. 
 
118 One of Them 
 
 I told her of my stomach trouble. 
 
 "Why did you not come up here and stay a few 
 days with mother until you felt better? How could 
 you go to work, feeling so miserable?" 
 
 I explained to her it was impossible for me to stop 
 for a day even, because my brother was coming the 
 end of the week and I needed the money; then I 
 feared to lose my position, for it was a very busy 
 time, and some other help would be taken in my 
 place. That evening she did not let me go home. 
 
 "You shall not stay uptown any more!" she 
 said. "Now you'll get a room where it will be near 
 the shop, and the car-fare you'll spare for better 
 food." 
 
 At the end of the week my brother came. Poor 
 brother, he was so disappointed when he saw my 
 pale, thin face. He expected to find me strong, 
 healthy, and happy. Happy I tried to be. 
 
 "Is it the work that affected you so badly, 
 sister? " he asked the first evening. 
 
 "Oh, no," I answered; "it is only a cold that I 
 got. It'll be over in a few days." 
 
 He sighed, bowing his head, and continued: 
 "You know that mother is still crying, when she 
 thinks how hard you have to work, and she always 
 fears that you have nobody to look after you. She 
 still thinks that you are not able to do your own 
 washing, nor mending, nor ironing." 
 
 "Don't worry," said I. "At home when I had 
 
A Brother Comes 119 
 
 mother and sister to take care of me, I knew noth- 
 ing, but now, I have learned everything, and 
 get along fine!" ("Get along fine!" . . . Well, I 
 had to lie for his sake.) 
 
 ! For the next few days I was very busy searching 
 a place for my brother. I finally got him a position 
 in Brownsville with a plumber. As it would be too 
 far for him to travel from New York, I also found 
 him a room and board near his shop. Myself, I 
 moved downtown, not far from the shop. Though 
 I bought better food, I still felt very weak. It 
 seemed that the two dull seasons during the past 
 year and a half had undermined my health. I had 
 never felt sick until this recent breakdown. 
 
 The worries about work and my brother had 
 occupied so much of my thoughts for the past few 
 weeks that I had even forgotten the existence and 
 importance of the union. When I became stronger, 
 I again started to attend various meetings and lec- 
 tures. 
 
 The shop was a model of a "sweat-shop" in the 
 full sense of the word, narrow and dark and 
 dirty. When it happened to rain, our clothes felt 
 damp all day long. The owner cared very little for 
 the shop. He was always busy with his jobbing. (A 
 jobber is one who gets ready-made merchandise to 
 sell.) 
 
 Only two or three experienced operators were 
 kept; the rest were mostly green girls, and were 
 
4J 
 
 120 One of Them 
 
 always called "learners." Even those who stayed 
 there for more than a year were still called learners. 
 We worked in sets. Each skilled operator had two 
 or three learners to work with. The latter would 
 work, each one on a certain part of the garment, 
 and the skilled operator would complete it. 
 
 Those poor learners were never given a chance 
 to learn to make a complete garment, because the 
 work went much quicker when each girl worked 
 on one part continuously. Also, because a skilled 
 girl would not stay for the small salaries they paid. 
 But a learner, lacking skill, would be afraid to look 
 for other jobs, and she was thus dependent on the 
 man for whom she worked, being obliged to accept 
 any salary paid to her. 
 
 The foreman was unusually respectful to me 
 because I was the highest-paid worker in the shop. 
 But the greatest respect he began to pay me when 
 he happened to learn through the papers that I was 
 to play on the stage. (I still belonged to the Dra- 
 matic Club at that time and we gave performances 
 every once in a while.) 
 
 "So, so, you are to become an actress it's 
 fine, very fine," he would say proudly. 
 
 He informed the girls that I was an actress, 
 and they also began to pay me more respect. That 
 helped me in gaining their confidence. I often tried 
 to convince them how much better it would be 
 for them if they would all get together and join 
 
Helping New Girls 121 
 
 the union. They were glad to do it, but they were 
 afraid of the boss. To sit quietly and see the way 
 the people were treated was impossible. I had two 
 girls, helpers, under my direction. I was forbidden 
 to bother much with them, but I could not help 
 instructing them in the work. My teacher's tem- 
 perament was aroused unconsciously. I would 
 give them every day a new part of the garment to 
 make up so that they could learn how to make a 
 complete waist. When the foreman noticed it, he 
 scolded me for the first time. 
 
 "I don't pay you for teaching the girls how to 
 work. I don't want you to bother away your time. 
 I want to have my work done!" he cried in anger. 
 
 "But how can I work with them when they 
 don't know how?" I would argue. 
 
 He would not listen. My heart pained me for the 
 girls. One of them was paid three and a half, the 
 other five, dollars a week. Both together did not 
 get as much as I. When I worked alone I could only 
 make seven or eight waists a day; together with 
 them, I used to complete a bundle of sixteen, some- 
 times eighteen, waists a day. I told the girls how 
 much I was getting. They did not believe me. 
 They could not think of such big pay. 
 
 "Why should not you tell the boss that we are 
 worth more?" they would beg me. 
 
 I did speak to the foreman about it. I explained 
 to him how much work was given out and how 
 
122 One of Them 
 
 much they deserved according to the salary I was 
 getting. He opened his eyes wide at me. 
 
 "Why, who allowed you to tell the girls how 
 much you are getting? And what is your business to 
 worry about the others? They ought to be glad we 
 took them in here. Where else could they get a po- 
 sition when they don't know how to join a seam? " 
 
 He was enraged. I understood it was useless to 
 argue, and went back to the machine. 
 
 There was another girl in our shop, an experi- 
 enced operator, who came for the sake of her sis- 
 ter, just recently arrived from Russia. That girl, 
 Mollie, got twelve dollars a week and her green 
 sister, five. After two weeks Mollie's sister, becom- 
 ing accustomed to the system, began to give out as 
 much work as Mollie herself, but she still got the 
 same pay, for she was called a learner, and a learner 
 was only raised each season. Mollie spoke to the 
 foreman about her sister getting a raise, but she 
 was only laughed at. Both of us decided to report 
 to the union office and ask their help. I had suc- 
 ceeded in getting six girls who were ready to join 
 the union and we hoped to get the rest later on. 
 
 On a Friday evening, just a week before Labor 
 Day, we went down to the union office. There by 
 the complaint window of the independent depart- 
 ment I gave full information about our shop and 
 asked, if possible, to have a committee sent to 
 take us down on strike so that we could get the 
 
Asking Aid of the Union 123 
 
 people to join the union and then put our demands 
 before the boss. The man by the window promised 
 to attend to it. Every day the next week I waited 
 for a committee, but it did not come. On Wednes- 
 day evening I went to the union again. The man 
 by the window told me they were too busy, that we 
 must be patient and wait. 
 
 The next morning, when I sat by my machine, 
 two strange men, together with the owner, entered 
 the shop. They looked all around, tried the lights, 
 and made some remarks about the windows and 
 the sink. I surely thought they were people from 
 the union, and told the girls so. But they were not, 
 for in a few minutes we were told to stand up and 
 march out when a whistle should blow. Later I 
 learned that they were sent from the Board of 
 Sanitary Control to give us fire drills. 
 
 I was puzzled. How did the Board of Sanitary 
 Control come to send a committee to a non-union 
 shop? I knew that the board was created by the 
 union and the Manufacturers' Association, and 
 had nothing to do with the non-union shops. There 
 must be a reason for it. 
 
 In the evening I had a talk with the girls. None 
 of them knew anything about it. They did not even 
 know from where and for what those men came. 
 They were all interested, even Sadie, the future 
 forelady, stopped to listen to us. I made all kinds 
 of suppositions. 
 
124 One of Them 
 
 "Perhaps," said I, "the union sent up those men 
 to find out how the shop looks before they take us 
 down on strike." 
 
 "What do you mean by strike?" asked Sadie in 
 surprise. (She knew nothing of our plans.) 
 
 I was afraid to tell her anything, for she would 
 surely report to the foreman, and I would be fired. 
 At that time I had worked only six full weeks and 
 could not afford to be fired. I still had to help my 
 brother, who did not get more than five dollars a 
 week. On our way home Mollie and I decided to 
 wait till after Labor Day. Then if the union had 
 not sent anybody, we would go up there again. 
 
 Sunday morning when we came to work (we 
 observed Saturdays), the foreman had news for us. 
 The boss was going to change the week-work sys- 
 tem for piece-work right after Labor Day. All the 
 girls, with the exception of a few, were shocked with 
 the news. As the foreman would always tell them 
 that they did not deserve the money they were get- 
 ting, they feared that on piece-work they would 
 make still less. 
 
 After work I tried to comfort the girls. I told 
 them that now was the best time to make a union 
 shop. That we would get a price committee to 
 settle prices, and they would make twice as much 
 as they had made before. 
 
 On my way home I thought of the change the boss 
 was going to make. A sudden thought seized me< 
 
A Change in System 125 
 
 I recalled I had read in Saturday's paper that the 
 Manufacturers' Association sent out letters to all its 
 members who practiced the week-work system, and 
 informed them that by the request of the union they 
 would have to change their system to piece-work. 
 
 "My boss must belong to the bosses' associa- 
 tion, then," I said to myself, u or he would not have 
 changed his system so suddenly." And how could 
 he have those men from the Board of Sanitary Con- 
 trol unless he was a member of the association? The 
 more I thought of it, the more I concluded that it 
 must be so. 
 
 Tuesday evening Mollie and I went over to the 
 union, and I found that my boss really was a mem- 
 ber of the association. 
 
 So when I went in the next morning to work, I 
 walked over to the foreman and told him all I knew 
 about the boss, the change of system, and the 
 shop, and that now, if he wanted us to do piece- 
 work he must send for a man from the union to settle 
 prices for us; otherwise we would not work. The 
 foreman stood looking at me in embarrassment. 
 To him everything came unexpectedly. He knew 
 nothing of our preparations, and my explanation 
 took him unawares. 
 
 "Who told you to go to the union, you foolish 
 kid? The boss has nothing to do with the union 
 with all those fakers! It is true that the boss be- 
 longs to the association, but what do you need the 
 
126 One of Them 
 
 union for? The poor girls don't have enough to 
 eat, how could they afford to pay dues and fill 
 the union leaders' pockets?" 
 
 I was tired of that song. I had heard it so many 
 times from different bosses and foremen. 
 
 "Please," I said, "don't you blame the leaders. 
 I never saw them and they have nothing to do with 
 our demands. We ourselves want to have a union 
 shop. Your boss cares to belong to a bosses' asso- 
 ciation; we care to belong to a workers' organiza- 
 tion! Besides, if you are so sorry for the girls 
 why don't you pay them according to their worth? 
 You drive them like slaves, and what are you giving 
 them in return? Three dollars a week, in addition 
 to scoldings ! You make them believe that they are 
 not worth even that much!" 
 
 I was enraged, and gave vent to all my feelings. 
 If the foreman had not interrupted me, God knows 
 how much longer I would have spoken. 
 
 "Look here!" he said, "I thought you were a 
 nice, respectable girl. I did not think you could 
 be so fresh. We don't want you to make trouble in 
 this shop. If you don't like it, you can go. You 
 are only a new hand here. Those girls are working 
 here more than a year, some more than two years, 
 and they never spoke to me like that. I was to 
 them like a father and they '11 admit it, too. 
 I did not think you 'd have the nerve to agitate 
 the people against me and the boss!" 
 
Trouble in the Shop 127 
 
 All the girls were sitting by their machines shiv- 
 ering with fear. They were afraid the boss would 
 fire them wholesale. For the first time I saw them 
 cowards as they were. When the foreman turned 
 to them, asking if they had anything to say, they 
 all bowed their heads, no. 
 
 "See!" he said to me; "nobody cares for a union 
 but you. Take my advice and go to the machine 
 and mind your own business! We'll fix up the 
 price without a man from the union." 
 
 All that time the boss stood at the door of his 
 office and listened to everything. It seemed that 
 he made up his mind to leave all to the foreman, 
 for he said not a word, but an hour later he came 
 out and, passing between the tables, addressed the 
 foreman. 
 
 "What was the noise you made this morning? 
 You know that I don't like trouble in my shop. 
 If there is any girl in here who is displeased, let 
 her go. Nobody keeps her here. I want no market 
 in here." 
 
 (He spoke as if he did not know who that girl 
 was, though he saw me speaking to the foreman.) 
 
 The foreman pointed me out to him. 
 
 "There she is. She wants to call the people out 
 on strike. She is the one who keeps them back from 
 work." 
 
 I stood up. 
 
 "I don't keep them back from work!" I cried 
 
128 One of Them 
 
 out; "but we have a right to know what we are 
 working for. When we were week-workers, we 
 knew how much we were getting; now we are piece- 
 workers, and we want to know how much we can 
 earn. It is no more than right we should know." 
 Then I added, "Don't you know that in each pro- 
 tocol shop there should be a chairman and a price 
 committee selected from the workers to settle prices 
 with the boss?" 
 
 He grew mad. 
 
 "Who are you to make rules in here, you little 
 kid? You are only a child. What do you know 
 about it? Do you think you are in Russia fighting 
 the Cossacks? Go to Russia and fight the Cossacks ! 
 I will not allow you to make me revolutions in the 
 shop and spoil the people!" 
 
 I went to my machine, not saying a word. Every 
 minute I expected to be discharged. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 THAT day was the most miserable one I ever 
 spent in the shop. The foreman quibbled at 
 everything, scolded me, and cursed the union lead- 
 ers as if it were their fault! I could not work. I 
 felt so insulted, tears were running from my eyes, 
 the work slipped out of my hands. In any other 
 circumstances I would have left that shop, even if 
 I had to starve, but not at present. 
 
 "Should I give in?" I thought. "After all, the 
 boss was right; if the girls don't care, why should I? 
 But they do care; they are only afraid; they have 
 no courage to start; their courage is killed by the 
 miserable life they live. Why should I not try to 
 awaken their dignity, their self -consciousness?" 
 
 In that choking atmosphere, working by gas 
 which inflamed the eyes so badly, with not a single 
 ray of sunshine all day, there we sat working for 
 others. Oh, how I wished to stand up and cry out 
 to the world of all the misery we are submitted to 
 in the shops; to show them the causes that so 
 often drive girls to hell-life; to tell them that the 
 money the bosses acquire through our labor is 
 criminal money! It comes from the starvation of the 
 people; it is the happiness, the youth, the beauty, 
 
130 One of Them 
 
 the blood of many, many innocent, unprotected 
 working-people ! 
 
 Impatiently I awaited the lunch-hour, when I 
 ran over to the union office. With tears in my eyes 
 I told them what had happened. The complaint 
 clerk made out a complaint to the association 
 against my boss. He advised me to call the girls to 
 a meeting. With meeting cards in my hand, with- 
 out any lunch, I returned to the shop. On the 
 cutting-table sat the foreman, all the girls around 
 him, and he amused them with his tales. 
 
 " Come on here," he called. "You may also listen 
 to it. . . . When I was in the contracting business 
 for the cloak manufacturers, I had to deal with the 
 union. Once, when a business agent came around 
 to find out if everything was in order, I invited him 
 out for lunch with me. There in a saloon I treated 
 him with a few beers so that after lunch he was not 
 able to walk out. When he stepped out of the door, 
 he fell like a dead one on the sidewalk. Then I 
 called over my workers to show them who their 
 leader was. I also told them that for one beer he 
 would sell the union. That's what your union is," 
 he concluded. 
 
 But I stopped him; I could not stand it any more. 
 
 " A thing like that never happened, and if it did, 
 you played a very mean trick on that poor man ! " 
 I cried out. "Girls, don't listen to him he wants 
 to poison your minds, that is his only aim!" 
 
The Foreman's Plea 131 
 
 I tried to control myself. I respected his age 
 he was old enough to be my father. 
 
 It is hard to describe how I spent the rest of that 
 day. He called me "damn liar." He wanted to 
 make the girls believe that I was an agent from the 
 union, that I was paid by the union leaders to get 
 money from the girls for union books. 
 
 I could not control myself any longer. Tears 
 burst out of my eyes. I took my hat and coat and 
 wanted to run, run away from there, from all 
 the trouble, I was so excited, but Mollie held me 
 back. 
 
 "We don't believe him; we know his aims all 
 right," she said. "Don't go; if you go, this place 
 will remain as it was. Now you have started it, 
 bring it to an end. The girls will stay with you." 
 
 I did not go. I sat by the machine, but could not 
 work. My mind was too upset. At four o'clock I 
 distributed the meeting cards, calling everybody to 
 the meeting. I warned them if they did not go, 
 they would regret it. Half an hour before the power 
 stopped, the foreman called Mollie and me over to 
 his table. He was all changed. His manners, his 
 voice, were so soft, so polite, that it made us won- 
 der. In a begging tone he began: 
 
 "I want you girls to understand me. The boss 
 does not care to keep up his shop. If he is to pay 
 higher wages to the girls, he will not be able to keep 
 a foreman and he will give up the business alto- 
 
132 One of Them 
 
 gether. He can make a nice living without these 
 few machines. I will be the one to suffer! I'm only 
 a poor man, have to support my family. What am 
 I to do if he does give up the business?" 
 
 My grudge against him disappeared instantly. 
 
 Poor man! I pitied him. After all, he was only a 
 tool in the hands of the boss. He also worked very 
 hard. The boss's son would walk around all day 
 long from one table to the other, of no use to any- 
 body. He did not even know where to get a spool 
 of thread when a girl happened to ask him for it. 
 And he was the one to get the profits. The foreman, 
 who had managed the shop and who had done the 
 cutting also, only got as much as could be taken 
 off from the girls' worth. 
 
 But I could not help him. Were he a fair man, 
 not a coward, he would not make his living out of 
 the girls' money, for, as he himself said, the boss 
 kept him as long as the girls got small wages. I 
 said to him : 
 
 "If the boss will give up the business just because 
 he has to pay decent wages, let him do it ! For three 
 dollars a week the girls can find a job anywhere!" 
 
 After work I waited for the girls to take them to 
 the meeting. Sadie, the forelady, fearing to spoil 
 her future career by attending the meeting, re- 
 fused to go. Another girl followed her. The three 
 Italian finishers were also afraid to go, so that we 
 only had nine girls at the meeting. 
 
A Price Committee Chosen 133 
 
 I succeeded in explaining to them the situation 
 as it was. I assured them that if the boss should 
 give up the business, it would not be for the reason 
 that we want too much, but for the simple reason 
 that his son is not able to manage the business, and 
 if it is so, let him do it. Such brilliant jobs as they 
 had they could always get. 
 
 They elected me as shop delegate; also on the 
 price committee, together with Mollie. 
 
 The next morning when we came in to work, the 
 boss was already there. He changed his policy. 
 Without addressing anybody, he began to talk. 
 
 "Oh, I have nothing against the girls' selecting a 
 chairlady. Let them also select a price committee, 
 but they could do all that without a union. They 
 need not belong to the union and spend their money." 
 
 I went over to him and introduced myself as 
 the shop chairlady. I told him that we had ap- 
 pointed a price committee and were ready to settle 
 prices, but with a man of the union, because we 
 had never settled prices before and we wanted to 
 have an expert. 
 
 The boss realized that further arguments were 
 useless and he finally agreed. 
 
 Until a man from the union could come up, we 
 continued with the work. I still had my two help- 
 ers. Now that I was no week-worker, I had liberty 
 to instruct the girls in the work. After a day or two 
 they worked alone and did well. 
 
134 One of Them 
 
 On Sunday I asked the foreman to give me some 
 work that I could work on without interruption. I 
 wanted to time myself, to make a sort of test, and 
 see if I could possibly settle the prices myself with- 
 out any help from the union. I wanted to do justice 
 to both sides. The girls should be able to go on 
 with the work, without any loss of time, and the 
 boss should have his work done in time. 
 
 On Monday, when I had the work finished, I 
 went over to the foreman to speak about the price. 
 Somehow we agreed on the price of the style I 
 tried out. All were satisfied. The day passed very 
 happily. 
 
 In the evening the foreman told me to remain 
 to settle some more work. I did so, but instead of 
 prices, he spoke to me of something else. 
 
 " Listen, miss ! I know you are a sensible girl, and 
 you deserve to get more than the others. You need 
 not bother with the union. I myself will give you a 
 chance to work yourself up. See, as you are on 
 piece-work now, you can keep your two girl helpers 
 as before. You '11 pay them as much as I paid them 
 till now. . . . Think what you can make on them; 
 the work will all go through you, and they'll work 
 through your hand! You need not be afraid that 
 they'll refuse. If they do, I'll get other girls 
 there are always plenty of them!" 
 
 Should any one throw stones at me, I would not 
 feel as hurt as I felt while he spoke. It was the 
 
The Foreman Explains 135 
 
 worst kind of an insult I could ever feel. He 
 wanted me to become a sub -contractor, to give me 
 a chance to advance myself! In what a way! By 
 cheating the girls! In the same way as I had been 
 and still was cheated! 
 
 At last the deputy clerks from the association 
 and the union came. I was called to the office. In 
 my broken English I tried to explain to them. 
 After me the foreman spoke. Hearing him talk in 
 the office in a soft, gentle voice, it could hardly be 
 believed that he could use such violent language 
 as he used in the shop to the girls. He denied all I 
 said. He told them that as long as he had been fore- 
 man in the shop, the girls had never complained of 
 anything that peace had prevailed until I came; 
 that I also was satisfied until the system of week^- 
 work was changed; since then I had begun to make 
 trouble in the shop because I did not want to work 
 piece-work. 
 
 "It's a lie!" I interrupted him, maddened by 
 such false statements. "I'm glad that the system 
 is changed I only wanted to have a man from 
 the union to settle the prices for us!" 
 
 He lied through and through, and I could not 
 help saying it was a lie, but in saying that, I only 
 succeeded in discrediting myself, for the clerk of 
 the association stopped me. 
 
 "Why, that girl is unbearable; she has an awful 
 temper!" he said to the clerk of the union. "After 
 
136 One of Them 
 
 all, he is the boss of the place, and she should have 
 more respect forlhim! She is too fresh!" 
 
 "Oh, if you only knew him!" I said, and burst 
 into tears, for it hurt me that he was trusted more 
 than I. 
 
 Both clerks failed to see the impossibility of se- 
 lecting a girl in our shop. All the girls, without any 
 exception, were as week-workers very much under- 
 paid. If any girl was to make a test, and be paid by 
 the hour according to her former salary, we would 
 surely not be able to gain anything, but I was not 
 given any chance to explain it to them, for they 
 were in a hurry and left. 
 
 When I stepped back into the shop, the girls 
 were waiting impatiently for news, but before I 
 said a word, the foreman anticipated me. 
 
 "Well, girls, even the clerk said that she was 
 fresh, that she had a bad temper. He also said that 
 I'm the boss here, and she has nothing to say!" 
 
 So he interpreted the clerk's sentences, and 
 wanted the girls to believe him. 
 
 In the evening on our way home, I had all the 
 girls around me. Some had the greatest sympathy 
 for me, but Sadie and her friend saw their enemy in 
 me. 
 
 "What do you want the trouble for?" she asked 
 me. She did not have sense enough to see things as 
 they were, f 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 THE next morning the first thing I did was 
 to remind the foreman that we were to select a 
 test P girl. I hated him so much that morning that 
 I would sooner have talked to the Devil. Can any- 
 one imagine being friendly to a man who tramples 
 on your dignity, who tries to drive you from the 
 shop? But I tried to be friendly in order to get a 
 test girl to make the prices so the girls could get 
 their pay. 
 
 There were only four girls who were competent 
 enough in the work to act as testers. From the four 
 he selected Sadie and wanted nobody else. How 
 could I agree to her when she was such a good 
 worker, yet got only twenty cents an hour? My 
 arguments did not do any good. He again called 
 me "trouble-maker" and "fresh girl," and when I 
 went to him for work, kept me waiting purposely 
 to make me lose time. 
 
 At lunch-time I went to the union again. There 
 I cried for a long time until I was able to talk. The 
 people up there comforted me. To them it was not 
 new. Hundreds of girls used to come to them with 
 the same grievances as I. But those did not cry 
 any more. They were accustomed to being ill- 
 treated for their union activity. Time and expe- 
 
138 One of Them 
 
 rience made them take things easier; while I was 
 only a novice. 
 
 The assistant chief clerk immediately made out 
 a complaint against my boss for ill-treatment of the 
 chairlady and promised to have the clerks sent up 
 right after lunch; but I was not willing to go with- 
 out the clerks. I knew what awaited me. The 
 assistant persuaded me to go alone. He also told 
 me that in case? the deputy clerks should not suc- 
 ceed in settling the trouble, the case would go over 
 to the chief clerk, and he would either make an 
 end to the trouble or close the shop. 
 
 I went back to work. Before I had time to sit 
 down, the foreman began again. 
 
 "Well, what did your union tell you? You think 
 I'm afraid of you, eh? The more you complain, the 
 worse for you ! I shall give you such work that you 
 will not be able to make two dollars a week!" 
 
 Sometimes there were styles of which parts had 
 to be sent to the hemstitchers outside. (My boss 
 did not keep any hemstitching machines.) If we 
 got a bundle of that work, we could only make it 
 ready for hemstitching. To keep the girls busy, the 
 foreman would give to each girl two bundles one 
 with hemstitching, the other to be completed, so 
 that when a girl had her work ready for hem- 
 stitching, she would work on the other bundle until 
 the first work was returned. 
 
 That day the boss gave me only such bundles as 
 
Work Withheld 139 
 
 required hemstitching. I would work only for half 
 an hour and then was obliged to sit idle until its 
 return. When I asked for a bundle that I could 
 work on without interruption, he refused me. I 
 complained to the boss. The boss came over and 
 asked the foreman why he did not give me work, 
 but the foreman had thrown the few bundles he 
 had into the girls' baskets and said to the boss that 
 I would have to wait until he would cut some more 
 work. I showed the boss the extra bundles the girls 
 had in their baskets while they had plenty to do 
 without them. The boss took a bundle from a girl's 
 basket and put me to work on it. To the foreman 
 I heard him saying: 
 
 "You better stop troubling the girl too much!" 
 When he walked away the foreman said : 
 "You see, girls, now, what good friend she is to 
 you! She is so mean she grabs your work from the 
 baskets while she herself has a full basket of work! " 
 That exasperated me I could not stand it any 
 longer; indeed, I had a full basket of work, but I 
 could not make it up for the main parts of it were 
 out to be hemstitched. 
 
 "You are a mean blackmailer!" I cried out. 
 "You only seek to discredit me before the girls!" 
 
 To the girl from whose basket the work had been 
 taken for me, I said that I would gladly give the 
 bundle back to her if she thought I had taken her 
 work away. She did not take it. 
 
140 One of Them 
 
 At three o'clock the clerks came again. When the 
 complaint was read before the boss, he said he knew 
 nothing about it. He told the foreman to treat 
 everybody alike. The foreman again denied every- 
 thing, claiming that, on the contrary, I had in- 
 sulted him. He brought in my basket to show them 
 how much work I had and accused me of still kick- 
 ing despite plenty of work. But when I explained 
 that nothing could be done with the work until 
 the rest of it came back from the hemstitchers, the 
 clerk of the union took a stand against the foreman. 
 He, being experienced in cases like mine, under- 
 stood the game of the foreman. To him it was not 
 new; he himself had had similar fights with bosses 
 and foremen when he worked in the shop. But the 
 clerk of the association, who had never worked in 
 a shop, had no idea of how people were treated, how 
 they suffered, and he could not believe all my 
 "tales" as he called my statements. He could 
 not sympathize with me, for he could not imagine 
 that such things could be done! Still, they were; 
 I did not even tell a third of what we endured 
 from the foreman, because time was limited and 
 I wanted to have important disputes straightened 
 out. 
 
 In the presence of the clerks we selected a test 
 girl. She was Mollie, of the price committee. They 
 told us that in case we would not agree on the test, 
 they'd have a man sent up to make the prices. 
 
The Boss's Ultimatum 141 
 
 When they left, the boss came over to us and 
 said: 
 
 "Look here, girls, you wanted the clerks and 
 you had them! But I'm telling you again that you 
 may have a thousand clerks to make prices for 
 you, I will not pay a cent more than I pay you 
 now! I cannot afford to pay you more, for I sell 
 my merchandise cheap and I can't raise the price 
 on it." 
 
 "Then, why don't you tell that to the clerks? 
 What's the use of bothering around and wasting 
 people's time for nothing?" I asked. "You sell 
 your merchandise cheap, you compete with other 
 firms, and you want us to stand for it? No, we will 
 not! We ourselves gain nothing from it and we 
 spoil the prices for the girls in the other shops; 
 for each manufacturer in order to meet competi- 
 tion will treat his help in the same way as you do, 
 and the other girls, who, for so many years strug- 
 gled and fought for better conditions, will have to 
 suffer on account of us ! No a thousand times, 
 no! If you are a member of the association, you 
 can afford to pay as much as the other members 
 do; if you can't all right give up your busi- 
 ness ! Somebody else will have to make up the work 
 and we'll get our jobs all right!" 
 
 "A ah, is that what you want?" cried the 
 boss in anger. "You want to drive me out of busi- 
 ness you socialist, you anarchist, that's what 
 
142 One of Them 
 
 you are! Go, go! Your place is in Russia, to fight 
 the Cossacks!" 
 
 (I don't know why he always sent me to fight 
 the Cossacks.) 
 
 "I'm telling you girls again," he continued, "if 
 I have to pay more, I'll give up the business! If 
 you suffer afterward, it will not be my fault, but 
 hers!" He pointed his finger at me. 
 
 "You, Mollie, go ahead, make the test, and let's 
 see how it'll come out." 
 
 Mollie was given two waists to test. At the same 
 time the foreman gave two waists to Sadie. He 
 did not trust Mollie, though he said that she was 
 a good, respectable girl. 
 
 Mollie tried her best to make the test a fair one. 
 Sadie, who saw her chance to show her devotion 
 to the boss, rushed the work terribly, and when she 
 saw that she was not ahead of Mollie, she had the 
 girl next to her help her out. I watched them all. 
 Sadie had her waists finished ten minutes before 
 Mollie. Of course Mollie's test was not accepted. 
 According to her test, the waists had to be priced 
 at forty-six cents apiece; according to Sadie's, the 
 waist came out at thirty-five cents. All the boss 
 wanted to pay was thirty cents a waist. 
 
 When the expert came, he priced the waist at 
 fifty cents. He said that for a waist like that, 
 fifty cents was paid in all union shops. The boss 
 refused to pay either price. He claimed it was im- 
 
Section Work 143 
 
 possible for him to exist. He made a proposition 
 to have the work made in sections. The garment 
 should as before be divided into collars, cuffs, 
 bodies, sleeves, belts. Each part should be settled 
 by the dozen, and each part of the waist should be 
 made by a different girl. 
 
 I did not agree to it, neither did the union clerk. 
 I tried to make the girls see the danger for them in 
 section work. No skill is required. Anybody could 
 learn in a week or less to make a certain part of 
 the garment. The girls, not being skilled workers, 
 would always have to depend on that one shop, and, 
 of course, would never be able to take a stand 
 against any wrong, for fear of losing their positions. 
 
 Again he condemned me for holding back the 
 girls. He would file a complaint against me to 
 his association. As witnesses he had Sadie and 
 his other week-worker, who testified that I had 
 threatened the girls to make them join the union 
 and that I had stopped them from work against 
 their will. The other girls were afraid to say any- 
 thing. I began to grow disgusted with them. For 
 two weeks we had worked and I had made only 
 nine dollars. 
 
 The association and the union at last took more 
 interest in the case. For three days clerks would 
 come and go, come and go; they could not come 
 to an understanding. At last the boss announced 
 that he would give up the business. 
 
144 One of Them 
 
 Some of the girls began to blame me. They said 
 that they would rather work there than have noth- 
 ing. I tried to assure them that they would find 
 better places, but the foreman would agitate them 
 against me. Again he would tell them that I pur- 
 posely raised trouble in the shop to harm them. 
 He announced that those who were willing to work 
 for the price the boss would pay, should stay; 
 those who were not, might go. 
 
 Again I had a meeting with the girls. All the 
 will-power I possessed I used to the utmost that 
 evening in convincing the girls of the great mis- 
 take they would make if they consented to work 
 under old conditions. 
 
 In the morning when we had our work finished, 
 we told the foreman that we would only work there 
 if we had a strictly union shop with union con- 
 ditions. He announced that no more work would 
 be cut and that we were free to look for positions. 
 I took all the girls with me and went to the union 
 office. 
 
 I felt responsibility for them, and there was 
 nothing in the world I would not do for them so 
 they should not regret their old shop. The assist- 
 ant chief clerk told us that the case was already 
 in the hands of the chief clerk, and I would have 
 to wait for a definite answer. He also advised that 
 none of us should look for another job until we 
 heard the final decision. 
 
Waiting Developments 145 
 
 We sat in the union office the whole day, but 
 could not get a chance to see the chief. He was too 
 busy with many similar cases. I was told to come 
 in the next day. My girls began to grow impatient 
 and displeased. 
 
 I begged them all to stay home next day and not 
 worry. And all that night I lay awake thinking 
 how to get positions for them in case the boss really 
 closed his shop. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 AT nine o'clock the next morning, I was in the 
 union office again. The assistant chief clerk 
 told me that as the manufacturer had not informed 
 the association of his intention to give up the busi- 
 ness our manager considered it a lockout, and had 
 filed a complaint against the firm. At ten o'clock 
 the deputy clerks went with the complaint to the 
 firm, taking me with them* The boss informed 
 them that he was discontinuing manufacturing be- 
 cause he could not pay according to the decision 
 of the deputy clerks. So the case was dropped. 
 
 Going back to the union office, I sat there again 
 all day, waiting for the chief clerk to tell me what 
 to do. Many, many girls with similar grievances 
 were sitting in the office, waiting for the union 
 to help them. The disgust and sorrow in their eyes 
 was so deep ! All of them were so young and so pale. 
 "Why is life so hard to them?" I asked myself. 
 " Is it their fate to fall victims of life? Why? Why? 
 The spring of their youth they spend in shops 
 creating luxuries for others, the later years they 
 spend in dark, choking tenement-houses, starving 
 with their husbands and children three quar- 
 ters of each year. At forty, they are already old, 
 weak and unattractive. Their days are so gray, so 
 
A Union Leader 147 
 
 monotonous and so their lives are lived. Under 
 the heavy burden of poverty, their dignity, their 
 self -consciousness, their ambitions are killed. Why 
 don't they rebel? Why don't they stand up against 
 those who enslave them against those who kill 
 their human spirit?" 
 
 "What is the matter, young lady?" 
 
 I raised my head. Two very kind eyes from a 
 sympathetic face looked at me. I was so absorbed 
 in my thoughts that I had not noticed a man stand- 
 ing near me. He was the manager of the "Inde- 
 pendent Department" and also one of the first 
 leaders to organize the Waist and Dressmakers' 
 Union. For the first time I spoke with a union 
 leader face to face, with a man who was the father 
 of our present organization. 
 
 "What are you worried about?" he asked. 
 "I'm watching you for quite a few minutes; your 
 face is so troubled." 
 
 His voice was soft, his face so extraordinarily kind, 
 with so much sympathy for me. I told him all my 
 troubles. He sighed. 
 
 "Oh, yes," he said, shaking his head, "for so 
 many years I'm in this movement, for so many 
 years I spend my days and nights trying to help 
 the enslaved ones, and still the same old story, 
 the same hungry faces, the same dim eyes follow 
 me, day in, day out. If the workers would realize 
 their position how much better it would be for 
 
148 One of Them 
 
 them. I'm looking at you now and I am think- 
 ing of the many sweet young faces, the many 
 enthusiastic souls like yours, I saw only recently. 
 Those very faces, to-day, are so changed, their 
 youth is faded before its time. My heart bleeds 
 looking at them. And you, you are also to be 
 brought to the altar of capitalism, and you are so 
 young, so charming. Fight, my little girl, fight 
 against all who would injure you. Let them pay 
 too high a price for every bit of happiness you lose." 
 
 For two hours we talked. I almost forgot for 
 what I had come to the union. His friendly con- 
 versation filled my heart with warmth. 
 
 At five o'clock the chief clerk came from the 
 association. He told us the reason he could not 
 give us a definite answer was that he did not be- 
 lieve our boss was giving up manufacturing. Once 
 previously he had done the same thing; he kept a 
 shop on Division Street, where horrible conditions 
 prevailed, and when his employees began to organ- 
 ize, he claimed that he was giving up business. 
 When the workers had all left the shop, he then 
 opened a new place on West Eighteenth Street. 
 Suspecting that he would play the same trick 
 again, the chief clerk insisted that our boss should 
 resign from the association, so he should not have 
 its protection any more and the union might know 
 how to treat him. The shop was given up and we 
 really had to look for other jobs. I wanted to speak 
 
Committees at the Union 149 
 
 to the chief clerk to ask his advice what to do, for 
 I had to give an answer to the rest of the people. 
 And I feared that they would not understand the 
 situation as I did. But there were so many com- 
 mittees waiting for him that he could not spare 
 me a minute more. He asked if I could wait until 
 the committees were all gone. I gladly sat waiting, 
 because I was very anxious to have a talk with 
 him. I was also very much interested to hear what 
 the committees from the various shops had to 
 say. 
 
 For the first time I heard the shop chairladies, 
 who represented the workers in their respective 
 shops, put their complaints before the chief clerk. 
 Many of them spoke with much bitterness, many 
 spoke with disgust of the protocol. Under the 
 machinery of the protocol, their complaints would 
 often linger for months and months before they 
 could be decided. While in a non-protocol union 
 shop, complaints were always decided in the first 
 or second week. 
 
 I watched them all. I also watched the manager, 
 being anxious to find out how he dealt with the 
 various difficulties, how he advised the people, and 
 how much he, himself, was really interested in 
 everything. 
 
 With tightly closed lips, knitted brows over his 
 eyes that were deeply set in their orbits, the ex- 
 pression of his face seemed severe. There on a chair 
 
150 One of Them 
 
 he sat, listening to the committees. His appearance 
 was in great contrast to the other manager. I 
 watched him rather suspiciously, for he was one of 
 the men of whom I had heard tales of his riches and 
 the valuable diamonds he had obtained since he 
 had become a labor leader. He appeared a simple, 
 strong-built man, with a fighting spirit and much 
 will-power. His voice was loud and clear. To me 
 he seemed a little unfriendly, for the other manager 
 spoke so softly and intimately and seemed much 
 pleasanter. 
 
 I waited for a long time until the last committee 
 was gone. It was quiet in the office, and most of 
 the officers had left. 
 
 "Oh, what a hard day's work I have had!" he 
 said, taking a deep breath. " Well, little sister, can 
 I be of any help to you?" asked he so softly I was 
 astonished. The harshness of his face disappeared 
 so suddenly, it seemed to have left with the com- 
 mittees. From under his knitted brows two gray 
 eyes filled with enthusiastic fire looked at me. His 
 lips widened into a pleasant, almost childish, smile. 
 
 Before me now sat a man whose hair had turned 
 gray, but his face was so youthful, a kind, sincere 
 face, it was hard for me to believe that he was 
 the same man whom I had seen only a few minutes 
 ago, sitting on the same chair, with such a severe 
 face. I asked him the reason for the change. 
 
 "My friend," he answered, "having such a hard 
 
A Talk with a Union Leader 151 
 
 day's work, such a hard fight on two cases as I had : 
 fighting with people who know they are wrong, yet 
 will not give in, with people who are trying to get 
 the best of the agreement, and who, themselves, 
 violate every provision of it. It 's maddening. Com- 
 ing back from the association tired and exhausted, 
 I find so many committees awaiting my help, their 
 sufferings, their helplessness impress me so that had 
 I the strength of Samson, I would destroy the pres- 
 ent damn world." The last words he pronounced 
 grinding his teeth. " And that is what made me 
 look so angry, severe as you say. Would the 
 workers only realize their strength and know how 
 to use it, we could revolutionize the world in no 
 time. We need to create a new, a better world." 
 
 For a long time we talked. After he had promised 
 to help me to find jobs for the girls, our conversa- 
 tion took a more personal character. I was anxious 
 to know his opinions on many things and I also 
 wanted to know a little about himself. My many 
 questions he answered with delight. He was a man 
 who had grown up in the labor movement; had 
 spent a life full of activity in the trade-unions, a 
 man whose sole object was the advancement of his 
 class. A child of the working-class, a worker him- 
 self, he struggled together with them, shared their 
 sufferings as one of them. He also told me about 
 the different unions and their lost or successful 
 strikes, of which I knew so little. He spoke much 
 
 / 
 
152 One of Them 
 
 about our Waist and Dressmakers' Union, expres- 
 sing his views with optimism. 
 
 Mr. Baroff entered the room. "Are you still 
 here? It is so late." 
 
 "I captured her attention and we have been 
 talking all the time," answered Mr. Polakoff. 
 
 I rose from my chair. It really was late. I had 
 not noticed how time had passed, being so inter- 
 ested in our conversation. 
 
 "Be here to-morrow, and we'll find jobs for you 
 and your girls." Both of them promised to do it. 
 "And if you are really interested to know what the 
 protocol is, you begin to study it attentively, and 
 if there is anything that you do not understand, I 
 shall gladly explain it to you," said Mr. Polakoff, 
 before we parted. 
 
 I felt happy that night. A new world seemed to 
 open before me. The meeting with the managers 
 enlightened my mind and filled my heart with en- 
 thusiasm for the labor movement. In my ears rang, 
 "Fight, my little girl, fight against the world, 
 against those who insult, against those who injure 
 you." These were the words of one. 
 
 "Did I possess the strength of Samson, I would 
 destroy this present damn world," rang the words 
 of the other. 
 
 So, for the first time, I met two people who were 
 the heads of our organization, two union leaders 
 one the symbol of love and kindness, the other the 
 
Thoughts on Union Leaders 153 
 
 embodiment of strength and determination, and just 
 as much kindness that was hidden deep in his heart. 
 
 And these labor leaders were called "fakers." 
 According to the statement of the bosses, who saw 
 in them their bitterest enemies, those labor leaders 
 lived on the "people's backs." The bosses tried to 
 impress this on the workers' mind in order to sow 
 distrust in the movement, and in many cases they 
 succeeded. Ignorant people would take the prej- 
 udiced statements for granted and would either 
 refuse to join the union, or those who belonged 
 would accuse the leaders of dishonesty and would 
 disturb the members' meetings in attacking them 
 without reason, without facts. A great many of our 
 members forgot that the union leaders are selected 
 from among the ranks; they are not given the lead- 
 ership because of their aristocratic family connec- 
 tions. They are given leadership because, through 
 long years of self-denial and suffering for the labor 
 cause, through tireless activity in the "movement," 
 through enthusiastic fights for the rights of the 
 workers, they have proved their energy and their 
 ability to lead. The members often forget that the 
 leaders of to-day are only the co-workers of yes- 
 terday. Instead of assisting, of cooperating with 
 them, they fight them. People w T ho would give I 
 their lives for the "movement" were called traitors. 
 
 The next morning when I came to the union office 
 to meet my girls, who waited impatiently for re- 
 
154 One of Them 
 
 suits, the manager of the "Independent Depart- 
 ment" had called up a few shops inquiring for po- 
 sitions for the girls. The first two positions he got 
 I sent up two girls, one a competent worker and 
 the other a learner. Before I sent them away, I 
 took a promise from the competent girl to take care 
 of the other. A few I sent to answer advertisements 
 in the paper, and they found jobs for themselves. 
 Mollie and her sister I sent to the shop where I had 
 first learned the trade. Through my recommenda- 
 tion they got employment there, where one of the 
 sisters is still working. 
 
 At home that day I was surprised to find my 
 brother in my room. 
 
 "What has happened? Are you not working?" 
 I asked. 
 
 He told me that he had a scrap with the boss and 
 left. It shocked me a little, for I knew how hard it 
 would be for him to find a job, as he was strange 
 and did not know the language. Just at that time 
 unemployment began (October, 1913). Hundreds 
 were walking around idle. After Christmas the un- 
 employed were counted by the thousands. 
 
 "What are we to do, in case he does not find 
 work?" I thought. For the last five weeks having 
 trouble in my shop, I had earned so little that the 
 few dollars I had saved during the previous weeks 
 were all gone. I would not have enough even to 
 pay my rent, if I did not go to work immediately. 
 
The Brother in Trouble 155 
 
 I scolded my brother for his hastiness. I tried to 
 make him understand that a learner must be more 
 obedient. He was not a real learner, he had had 
 some experience at home, but as a matter of fact 
 every newcomer is considered a learner. 
 
 The reason why he left his boss was, as he said : 
 "Is it not enough that I work for almost no wages 
 at all? He should, at least, respect me a little 
 more." (He did not know that those who get the 
 least money, get the least respect.) "He is using 
 me as an errand boy, as if I were only fourteen 
 years of age. Besides, his language to his helpers 
 is so overbearing, really, I can't stand it." 
 
 I argued with him for a long time trying to make 
 him understand that we must bow our heads and 
 wait patiently until we were able to stand up 
 against the abuses. I also told him what I had gone 
 through. He was shocked. 
 
 "Why, you? You were scolded and abused? 
 You, who were loved and honored in the family, 
 respected by every one in our home town, you took 
 quietly the insults of those old clodhoppers ?" 
 
 "I did not take them quietly; they were imposed 
 on me," I replied. 
 
 Tears stood in his eyes. "I could never imagine 
 that," he said in a trembling voice. 
 
 He promised me to be more careful in the future, 
 but back to the old shop he would not go. 
 
 To reduce my expenses, for I did not know 
 
156 One of Them 
 
 how long my brother and I might be out of work, 
 we moved together into a small room on the 
 fifth floor, somewhere on Ninth Street. Meals I 
 made myself for both of us. 
 
 Fortunately, we both found positions the next 
 week. An acquaintance of mine, working on sam- 
 ples in a large firm, took me up there. It was a 
 non-union shop. As I learned later, the union had 
 had several fights with that firm. The firm refused 
 to recognize the union, and in order to punish the 
 strikers, the boss opened factories in the country 
 around New York, sending all the work out there, 
 thus compelling the people to return to the shop 
 on the old terms. 
 
 The firm had practiced the same method several 
 times, whenever the workers made an attempt to 
 organize themselves. When, in 1909, the first gen- 
 eral strike of the Waist and Dressmakers' Union 
 was called, the firm closed up the shop altogether, 
 getting their merchandise made in the country 
 shops. Later, when the strike was over, the city 
 shop was reopened, mostly with green Italians who 
 worked on the old conditions. The union had made 
 several attempts to organize the country people, 
 but had always failed. The workers were American 
 girls, most of whom were partially supported by 
 their people and did not feel the pressure as self- 
 supporting girls do. They worked for any pay 
 given to them. In other words, the parents worked 
 
A New Position 157 
 
 for their children while the children worked for the 
 employers; neither parents nor children reaping a 
 just reward for their work. 
 
 In 1913 when the general strike was called again, 
 the firm succeeded in holding back the sample- 
 makers, who were twelve in number, by reducing 
 the hours and raising their wages a dollar more 
 than the union demanded. Securing the sample 
 hands, who supplied all the country shops with 
 samples, the firm continued manufacturing with- 
 out interruption, getting the work made outside 
 of New York. 
 
 I was the thirteenth sample-maker. We worked 
 in a large, light, airy room, our salaries were favor- 
 able, and we were never fined for coming in late. 
 But if it was pleasant in the sample-room, it was 
 terrible in the factory; the prices were so small that 
 the most expert could not make more than ten or 
 eleven dollars a week, while the average operator 
 made no more than seven dollars a week. With the 
 exception of a few Jewish girls, they were all Ital- 
 ians and, as usual, closely related to each other. 
 
 When the organizer in our union learned that I 
 worked there, he wanted me to try, if possible, to 
 get the girls to join the union. He still hoped to 
 organize the place. It was the end of October, just 
 when the slack season was beginning, so I risked 
 losing my position. Still, I promised to try. 
 
CHAPTER XH 
 
 NOW that I was provided with work again, I 
 had time to think a little of myself. For a 
 long time I had not had any recreation. Before, I 
 had not had any money, and then I was too busy 
 to think of it. The coming season in the dramatic 
 and musical world promised to be very interesting, 
 and I longed so much for a good opera or play. 
 If food was necessary for my physical hunger, 
 music and drama were necessary for my mental 
 hunger. 
 
 At that time the Century Opera Company gave 
 operas at popular prices. When I had paid my debt 
 to my friend Clara, I at once went to the opera 
 house and spent five dollars for tickets at twenty- 
 five cents each, so that if I happened to lose my 
 position and be out of money again, I should, at 
 least, be provided with tickets for the next few 
 weeks. I also secured tickets for the Manhattan 
 Opera Company, where Pavlova was dancing at 
 that time. But the highest price I paid for Caruso. 
 He would often cost me a few lunches and dinners 
 that I went without in order to save enough to buy 
 standing-room. I would go right from work, to 
 stand in line for general admission. If it happened 
 to rain, my clothes would be soaked through and 
 
Opera Audiences 159 
 
 through. With wet clothes, I would stand through 
 the performance, changing from foot to foot, while 
 there were always some empty seats in the or- 
 chestra. Very often, I would pay with a cold the 
 next day. But the magic of the music was so great, 
 that I forgot the cold as soon as it was past and 
 went again at the next opportunity. 
 
 The opera house was the only place where I en- 
 vied the rich. I did not envy them their expensive 
 clothes, nor their diamonds. I envied them their 
 comfortable chairs which often were empty through 
 most of the performance. People would frequently 
 come in during the second act, and leave at the 
 beginning of the last. Some of them would yawn 
 all through the performance. 
 
 Of course, the greater part of the audience sat 
 listening to the opera with much pleasure. But 
 many sat as if it were a duty to listen to the music. 
 They impressed me as coming only to show their 
 latest, and indeed very becoming, fashions. 
 
 Besides the theatre, I also attended different 
 lectures on modern literature, of which I am so 
 fond. My favorite authors were Ibsen, Maeter- 
 linck, Prshebishevsky, Andreev, Strindberg, Gorky, 
 and many others. 
 
 At home, in Russia, I always had time enough to 
 read. In the small town where I lived, there was 
 no library. (There was a small, unimportant li- 
 brary in the public school, but only for the pupils, 
 
160 One of Them 
 
 not for the public.) In the cities were good libra- 
 ries, but they were closed the most part of the 
 year, and Russia thought it unnecessary to install 
 libraries in small towns. Our town was big enough 
 to keep two monopol stores of vodka that 
 drink bringing ruin upon the people, but not for 
 a library to enlighten the people's minds. 
 
 A group of us, young boys and girls, got together 
 and from our own money, after a long time of 
 hard effort, created a small library, hoping to in- 
 crease it from time to time. Not being able to get 
 a permit, we had to keep it secretly. But the chief 
 of police soon learned of it. He immediately paid 
 us a visit, searching for revolutionary literature. 
 The result of his visit was the destruction of our 
 library, at that time worth two hundred roubles, 
 and the arrest of many of our members. The worst 
 of all was that he sold our books to his gendarmes 
 for ten or fifteen cents apiece, and we could never 
 get them back. We were left without any literature 
 at all and that was such a painful blow, but 
 only one of the many I had received in my native 
 land Russia. 
 
 How hateful the word Russia * sounded. The 
 ignorance in which Russia was trying to keep her 
 people, the many obstacles she put in the way of 
 my nation, particularly the limitation of civil 
 
 1 Not as a country, but as an autocratic Government, I hated it. 
 The country itself is very dear to me. 
 
Getting Books in Russia 161 
 
 rights for us, the desecration of our lives and 
 private property, that the Government practiced 
 upon us so often, the severe persecutions, kindled 
 fires of hatred in our hearts that burn for a life- 
 time. 
 
 When our library was destroyed, we began to 
 think of some other way of getting literature, for 
 we could not be without it. 
 
 Many of us began to subscribe to weekly maga- 
 zines which gave us very good classics as premiums 
 in addition to the magazine. Some subscribed for 
 a monthly magazine, "The Modern World," in 
 which many of the modern writers appeared. A few 
 of us had friends in the city who supplied us with 
 books through the mail. We would usually read 
 and discuss together, that helped us in widen- 
 ing our ideas and understanding what we read. 
 If any one happened to visit the city, he or she 
 would attend lectures, also the theatre, and would 
 come home with a fresh supply of impressions, 
 with the criticism of the lectures and performances, 
 and share it with the rest of us. Difficult as it was 
 for us to get what we wanted, still we succeeded 
 in reading the best classics, Russian and foreign, 
 also a great deal of the modern literature. Our 
 teachers, who came from the city, would be aston- 
 ished at our wide knowledge of literature. As a 
 matter of fact, we, who met with such difficulties 
 in getting knowledge, knew much more than most 
 

 162 One of Them 
 
 of the city students who had the privileges of the 
 best libraries. 
 
 Since I had left home, I had done very little 
 reading. The struggle for existence, the worry 
 about work, the trouble in the shops, had occupied 
 my mind and time. But now that I was a little 
 better off financially, I gave myself up entirely to 
 reading. I often visited the Public Library; I was 
 not accustomed to being served so readily and 
 receiving every book for which I asked. And if I 
 hated New York with its palaces and slums, if 
 I hated it for its many capitalists, I gave it full 
 credit for its Public Library and Museum of Art. 
 
 It was there that I found my coveted America ; 
 it was there I found freedom and equality I 
 
 With what a sense of adoration I would behold 
 that colossal building of a wonderful architecture! 
 That sacred temple which holds safe within its 
 walls the inexhaustible treasures of knowledge, 
 light. 
 
 A worshipping mood often possessed me as I 
 crossed its threshold. In happy bewilderment I 
 would stand gazing amidst the glaring candelabra, 
 high pillars, gliding balustrades, and the picture 
 galleries. The Goddess of Light seemed to flutter 
 in the enchanting silence. 
 
 And on the shelves around on the shelves, 
 safely tucked up for immortality, where lie the 
 brain-children of the world's geniuses, 't was our 
 
Trouble in the New Shop 163 
 
 inheritance ! 'T was for us their wisdom, for us their 
 celestial illusions, their secrets of love and joy, of 
 sorrow and hatred. We all of us are the heirs, 
 and if my eye was sometimes disturbed when look- 
 ing up the front entrance at the carved names, 
 Astor, Lenox, I said to myself, "Never mind 
 Astor, never mind Lenox 't is ours, ours 
 everybody's!" 
 
 After three weeks of prosperity my brother again 
 lost his job, and I had to help him for the next four 
 months. Had I not lost my position, we could have 
 got along somehow; but after five weeks I was dis- 
 charged. I once before mentioned that my boss 
 had two shops in New York. The conditions in 
 both, with the exception of the sample-rooms, were 
 terrible. The prices were cut lower and lower, from 
 day to day, and finally thirty of the more brave 
 people in the other shop could not stand it any 
 longer and they went on strike. As soon as they 
 were out, I received a letter from Mr. Baroff, the 
 manager of the Independent Department of our 
 union, who wanted me to try to get my people to 
 join in the strike, for if we did not, the workers in 
 the other shop would lose their strike because their 
 work could be made in our shop. 
 
 I promised to do all in my power. 
 
 I spoke to the girls in the sample-room. I ex- 
 plained to them that if the sample-makers would 
 stop from work the designers would have no sam- 
 
164 One of Them 
 
 pies for the country shops. And if the boss could 
 be made to realize that he cannot make all his work 
 in the country shops, he would at last recognize 
 his workers as an organized body. 
 
 But the girls would not listen to me. 
 
 The strikers from the other shop began to picket 
 our place, appealing to the workers for help. The 
 boss placed a few policemen to guard the doors and 
 protect us from "those dangerous people." With 
 contempt I chased a policeman away from me, 
 when he took me under his arm to protect me as 
 a picket approached me on my way out from the 
 elevator. 
 
 "Look out, little girl, they will hurt you," he 
 said. 
 
 "I shall call for you when I need you," I replied. 
 
 " Well, well, I 'm here to keep order." 
 
 The pickets did not know how hard I was trying 
 to get our people to join them in their strike. Their 
 eyes would follow me with hatred as they followed 
 all the others, who did not care to help them. The 
 boss and designer learned that I tried to appeal to 
 the sample-makers. They did not say anything 
 to me, but their angry looks and the difference in 
 their treatment told me what I might expect. 
 
 It was on a Friday at lunch-time. We had only 
 half an hour for lunch and usually ate inside. I had 
 to go down to the union office on the request of the 
 manager. When I had my coat and hat on, the boss 
 
Out of Work 165 
 
 came over to me and asked where I was going. 
 I told him that I had n't any lunch and was going 
 down to a restaurant. Suspecting that I would be 
 watched, I went into a restaurant, but only to walk 
 through it and out through another door. At the 
 union I had a talk with the manager and got some 
 instructions from him what to do. When I came 
 back to the shop, I was not admitted. Without any 
 explanation I was given my pay for a full week and 
 told to go. 
 
 The strikers, after being two weeks on strike, re- 
 turned to work with bowed heads; the more active 
 girls who organized the strike were not taken back. 
 
 It was then the end of November. Again, I tasted 
 the bitterness of the slack season, now worse than 
 ever, for we were two people to the last penny 
 I had to provide for my brother. 
 
 The room I stayed in was dreadful. When I 
 worked, I was home so seldom that I did not mind 
 so much. But when I was out of work and home 
 most of the time, I realized the surroundings I was 
 in. There were five rooms in the house. Two bed- 
 rooms, a front room, dining-room, and kitchen. 
 Husband, wife, and two children slept in one bed- / 
 room, two of their sisters slept in the dining-room,/ x 
 two girl boarders slept in the front room, and a 
 boy slept in the kitchen. I and my brother slept 
 in the last bedroom. While to me the house seemed 
 worse than hell, the people in the house thought 
 
166 One of Them 
 
 it not so bad, for in all the block, everybody kept 
 at least four or five boarders, in addition to their 
 own big families and they were no exceptions. 
 
 Bedbugs were everywhere, not only in the beds, 
 they were even in the closets with the clothes, on 
 my bookcases with the books. 
 
 Oh, how miserably those days passed! Some- 
 times I would clean my room all day long, clean, 
 clean, but the bugs would come in from the next 
 room and I could never rid myself of them. The air 
 from so many people in the house was so thick that 
 I would have to hold my breath while passing at 
 night to my room. The result of that environment 
 was a nasal catarrh which has been with me ever 
 since. 
 
 I had to run away from there if I valued my health, 
 but I could not move out until I found work. 
 
 From home I would run away to the office of the 
 union, where I would spend most of the day. There 
 I met hundreds of new girls each day, hundreds of 
 starved faces crying for help, crying for justice. 
 When the day's work would be over, I would sit and 
 talk to the managers. It gave me much pleasure 
 to spend my time with them. Their conversations 
 were so interesting, so refreshing. I was not the only 
 one to enjoy their warm friendship. I was one of 
 them, one of the thousands for whom their hearts 
 beat with love and devotion. 
 
Sophie 167 
 
 For two weeks I chased the city, until I found 
 a job, a union shop. Here again I met with the 
 same experience as in my first union shop in slack 
 time. The boss lowered the prices and the workers 
 refused to accept the low prices. The same quar- 
 relling, the same bargaining as in my other shops. 
 
 On the price committee were two girls, both of 
 them experienced workers, who had been in the 
 trade about twelve years and could judge very 
 well the right price for a garment. One of them 
 Sophie was her name would fight for a price 
 more than the other. She was a girl of twenty- 
 seven years. Her pronunciation was a little 
 peculiar. She pronounced sh as s and s she pro- 
 nounced sh ; her ch came out ts. The foreman de- 
 sired so much to get rid of her on the price com- 
 mittee that he would try to tease and cheapen her 
 before the girls. He would imitate her pronuncia- 
 tion at every opportunity 
 
 "Hey, Shophie, I wis' that you would get mar- 
 ried; you are too old to shettle prices." 
 
 "Shophie, don't eat tsocolate, you will spoil 
 your old teeth." 
 
 That poor girl swallowed the insults without 
 saying a word. 
 
 What provoked me most was that the girls for 
 whom she fought would burst into giggling at the 
 foreman's stupid jokes. 
 
 The foreman was very kind to me the first days; 
 
168 One of Them 
 
 he found pleasure in calling me "little daughter," 
 although he was too young to be my father. 
 
 My machine, which was an old one, was impos- 
 sible to work on, and he promised to change it for 
 a better one. On Monday of the second week a few 
 new machines were placed and I got one of the new 
 ones. They were Wilcox and Gibbs machines, much 
 quicker than the others, but even on those we 
 could make very little at the prices that were paid, 
 and one morning we stopped work. The boss called 
 for a clerk from the union, and when the latter 
 came we explained to him that we refused to make 
 up the work because the boss did not pay a satis- 
 factory price. Somehow, with the help of the clerk, 
 the prices were adjusted and we began work again. 
 But instead of giving the settled prices to his 
 people, he sent the work outside claiming that he 
 could get it done cheaper. We learned the very 
 same day that the work was sent up to the eleventh 
 floor in the same building. It was also a union shop 
 and our boss did not get his work any cheaper, but 
 he simply wanted to punish us. In the evening, we 
 had a meeting to talk things over. I urged the girls 
 not to compromise on prices because that might 
 injure the workers in the other shops as well as 
 ourselves. A committee of two was selected to 
 watch where the work was sent out so that we 
 might prevent it. 
 
 The next morning when I stood near the counter, 
 
Petty Persecutions 169 
 
 waiting for work, the foreman asked me, "Are 
 you also mixing in politics, little daughter?" 
 
 As through magic he seemed to know what had 
 been done at the meeting, and after that I was no 
 more "little daughter." It was, "Miss, you spoiled 
 that yoke. Miss, you made a mistake in the size. 
 Hey, miss, the stitches are too big." Everything 
 suddenly went wrong with my work. The aggrava- 
 tion I had through the foreman that day caused me 
 such a terrible headache that at four o'clock I had 
 to go home and lie down. 
 
CHAPTER Xm 
 
 AT home, to my great surprise, I found the 
 table in my room set with fruit, corned beef, 
 ham, and many other good things. At the table 
 sat my brother and another young man. They 
 both jumped up, as if taken unawares. In the 
 young fellow I recognized my brother's pal from 
 home. I was surprised to find him here. My 
 brother called me out of the room to explain : 
 
 "Looking around for work, to-day, I found him 
 on the street. We were both surprised to see each 
 other. He was looking for work also. He has been 
 out of work for a long time and he gave up his 
 room, two days ago, not having any money to pay 
 his rent. He slept in the park last night. I was so 
 broken-hearted by his story that I forgot to think 
 that we ourselves had no money. The dollar you 
 gave me for car-fare, I spent for all that food. I 
 purposely bought a lot of things to make him think 
 that we had enough. He must be starved. He did 
 not want to come up; he thought that you would 
 not want me to spend so much money when I had 
 no work; but I assured him that you were working 
 in the shop and would not know it. And even if 
 you did know, you would not be against it, would 
 you, dear? " he ended in a begging tone. 
 
A Guest Comes 171 
 
 "Of course, I would not, but why did you buy 
 so much? There is enough food for six people. Now 
 you will have no car-fare, how are you going to 
 look for a job?" 
 
 "Oh, it's all right, I'll walk. I am strong enough 
 to walk for a week," he said, stretching out his 
 muscles to show me his strength. 
 
 Poor boy, what a young, self-sacrificing thing! 
 In order to comfort his friend, he spent all the 
 money he had. I knew it was impossible for my 
 brother to walk. He had to inquire about work in 
 different places both up and down town, so that I 
 had to give him another dollar and that meant to 
 economize still further in our food. But I admired 
 his generosity. Trying to smile, I entered the room, 
 sat at the table with them, and tried to make them 
 forget their troubles. I could not eat, but with de- 
 light I watched both of them consuming the food 
 with great appetites. Not much w^as left when they 
 had finished. As the boy had no room, I told them 
 I would go and stay overnight with Clara, so that 
 he could have my bed. I also gave them ten cents 
 for a moving-picture show. 
 
 I tried to rest, but I was in a very nervous condi- 
 tion, and could not fall asleep. I felt tired and dis- 
 pleased with everything. "What is to-morrow?" 
 I asked myself the same trouble in the shop with 
 no hope in the future, slack season, starvation, 
 oh, how terrible, how monotonous, life continues! 
 
172 One of Them 
 
 When the clock struck seven, I got up. I had a 
 ticket for the opera that evening and did not want 
 to miss it. 
 
 My friend Clara accompanied me to the opera 
 house. On the last bench of the family circle, so 
 high that the people on the stage looked like 
 dwarfs, we sat silently waiting for the music to 
 start. Clara made several attempts to start a 
 conversation, but I tried to avoid it; it was hard 
 for me to talk. I was tired of telling the same old 
 stories over and over again. 
 
 "Take it easy, take it easy, kiddo," Clara tried 
 to comfort me. 
 
 "Oh, no, Clara, you are wrong, wrong; did people 
 not take life so easily, we would have a much better 
 world than we have now," I argued. 
 
 "I often think that you are a mystery to me, 
 Lisa. I cannot imagine that you so full of life 
 should be so pessimistic. Now you jump, sing, 
 and laugh like a careless child. Then your eyes fill 
 with sadness, your head drops as if all the world 
 lay heavy on your shoulders." 
 
 "Yes, Clara, it is true. Just because I am full 
 of life, I am pessimistic. Like a fish without water, 
 I am wriggling in this world without happiness. 
 Clara, where is the happiness of our youth? Where 
 is it?" I whispered in agony. "I want joy, I am 
 \\ young, I am entitled to it, I do not want to content 
 myself with a dry, sucked-out bone that is thrown 
 
 V 
 
Caruso in La Tosca 173 
 
 to me. I want it all life in its full thickness ! I 
 want my roses, I have had enough thorns. I cannot 
 stand it any longer, I am tired of it, tired of every- 
 thing." 
 
 The music started. I was all transformed into 
 attention. I bathed my soul in the wonderful 
 sounds of the music, trying to wash off the heavy 
 melancholy that possessed me, gnawing, gnawing, 
 at my heart and soul. 
 
 He who has once heard that opera surely re- 
 members the sweet music and beautiful words of 
 the aria from the third act of "La Tosca": 
 
 "When the stars were brightly shining 
 And faint perfume the air pervaded, 
 Creaked the gate of the garden, 
 And a footstep its precincts invaded. 
 'T was hers, the fragrant creature, 
 In her soft arms she clasped me, 
 With sweetest kisses, tenderest caresses, 
 A thing of beauty, matchless symmetry and feature, 
 My dream of love is now dispelled forever. 
 I lived uncaring, 
 And now I die despairing ! 
 Yet ne'er was life so dear to me, no, never." ! 
 
 Thousands of angels began dancing in the air 
 around me when Caruso began the aria. 
 
 Now slowly and melodiously, now loudly, 
 thundering with despair, now mournfully, with 
 heart-breaking, thrilling sobs, the music sobbing 
 quietly in accord. 
 
 1 English translation by W. B. Kingston. 
 
174 One of Them 
 
 How I wished that it would never end! To sit 
 there, to listen with bated breath to the heavenly 
 sounds, to drink, drink those delicious melodies and 
 never again return to miserable reality! 
 
 On our way home I was very silent. I thought of 
 the successful artists of whose early life I had read. 
 Who knows, perhaps if I could only have a chance 
 to show my abilities (I had a good soprano voice) 
 but I immediately caught myself up in that daring 
 thought. 
 
 But I am very emotional. Many people at home 
 in Russia had advised me to select a stage career. 
 I myself had the strongest wish to become an 
 actress, but my parents would not listen to it 
 they had a very bad opinion of an actress, they saw 
 no art in it. 
 
 Here in New York I had often thought of it, but 
 I was afraid to try, for I knew no one who could 
 give me an introduction to any one interested in 
 the stage. And not knowing the English language, 
 I could not succeed in trying all alone without any- 
 body's help. 
 
 I lay in bed awake, my brains puzzled with ques- 
 tions. The condition of life in which I was placed 
 enchained me and drove me into a frenzy. I could 
 not stand it. I must get away from such a life 
 but how? What can I do in order to better my eco- 
 nomic condition, and make my life more attractive, 
 fill it with more interest? 
 
An Army of Workers 175 
 
 I can do nothing but make waists and that can 
 give me just enough to lead a miserable life. With 
 the exception of those who are helped out by their 
 parents, all the workers in our industry and also 
 in many others live in terrible surroundings. Many 
 of them not only support themselves, but have to 
 support their parents or brothers or sisters. 
 
 With a still worse headache, I awoke the next 
 morning. Clara advised me to stay home until my 
 headache was better, but I could not afford to do 
 that and I went to work. Thousands of people 
 were automatically pushing through the streets to 
 their shops. At the square on Fourteenth Street, 
 the people would flow in from all the streets into 
 the small path, and, like quiet waves, one crowd 
 would flow after the other. It was a great big army, 
 an army of young girls, middle-aged mothers, 
 young fellows, and old fathers. With rayless eyes, 
 with drooping heads, they walked. In vain the 
 young girls tried to cover with paint and powder 
 their faded-before-its-time beauty; their move- 
 ments were quick but automatic. >v 
 
 Like in a funeral procession, I walked among 
 them I saw before me an army of mourners 
 I saw an army of convicts, people who were sen- 
 tenced to eternal poverty, to eternal misery. 
 
 " Will they ever raise their heads, will they ever 
 stand up and throw off those who sit on their 
 backs?" I thought. 
 
176 One of Them 
 
 "If the workers would only realize their strength 
 and use it jointly, how quickly they could revolu- 
 tionize the world!" 
 
 These words, once said by one of the managers 
 of our union, still rang in my ears. 
 
 "Yes," I thought, "if they would only realize, 
 what a better world they could create!" 
 
 When I entered the shop, I found my new ma- 
 chine taken away and the old broken one in its 
 place. I went over to see the foreman and asked 
 him the reason for that. 
 
 He said, "A good worker can work on any 
 machine." 
 
 "But my machine is a broken one, it breaks the 
 threads every other second and it is difficult to 
 make a straight stitch," I argued. 
 
 "What would you do if I had not brought in any 
 new machines at all?" 
 
 "But you brought new machines, because it was 
 impossible to work with the old ones," I said. 
 
 "Now, don't give me any arguments. I see that 
 you are looking for trouble. I have no other ma- 
 chine for you. Don't bother me." 
 
 I tried the machine again, but it would not work, 
 and I spent all morning without making a stitch. 
 
 It was evident that the foreman wanted to rid 
 himself of me, because I had advised the girls to 
 stand up for their rights. 
 
 At lunch-time the chairlady went downstairs 
 
How Hard Must They Work? 177 
 
 with me. I was too upset to think of eating, so 
 we took a walk. She expressed her sympathy and 
 wanted to go to the union and complain, but I 
 would not let her. I did not like to complain about 
 myself. Besides, the boss could have a good argu- 
 ment by stating that he had no other machine, that 
 the new machine was sent away because he did not 
 like it. He could give all sorts of arguments about 
 the machine and I did not want our union clerk to 
 bother in vain. 
 
 What was I to do? To go back to the shop meant 
 sitting near the machine, throwing time away. To 
 go home meant still worse. And the day was such 
 a glorious one! It was one of those beautiful early 
 December days when the air is so frosty and fresh. 
 Automobiles were rushing up and down Fifth 
 Avenue, carrying people with happy, self -contented 
 faces. 
 
 "Who are those people? How and where do they 
 get those expensive autos, those warm furs, and 
 time enough to enjoy the midday ride? Are they 
 working for it? If so, where and how? If I work 
 so hard and get just mere bread, a filthy home, and 
 a poor thin coat, how hard must they work to get 
 those costly furs and those beautiful clothes? " 
 
 I went back to the shop, but could not work. 
 The winter's sun shone through the window, and 
 its rays were so soothing. 
 
 "Out, out! Oh, how beautiful it is outdoors! 
 
178 One of Them 
 
 Here the people sit rushing their machines to make 
 a few more cents, a few more cents to add to their 
 small earnings; they do not have time to glance at 
 the beautiful sun; they do not notice its alluring 
 call. Oh, out, out to the park, play with the 
 snowballs, run in the snow, skate on the ice, out, 
 out, to laugh carelessly, to play freely, to think 
 clearly, to forget the misery ! Oh, out, out ! " 
 
 At last, with great effort, I had my bundle of 
 work finished. As soon as I started to work on a 
 new bundle, I had my first bundle brought back to 
 me to be fixed. The foreman did not like the way 
 I had made it up. I saw nothing wrong with it but 
 if any one wishes to find fault it could be found with 
 the best sample. 
 
 After I had fixed it, he did not like the way I had 
 fixed it. I saw no way to please him. The chairlady 
 had an argument with him about it. She was en- 
 raged with his action, but he cared little. I knew 
 I could complain to the union, but I also knew that 
 if the foreman had made up his mind to get rid of 
 me, I would have to complain every day. 
 
 Yes, he handled me as he pleased; my weakness 
 against him pained me. 
 
 I sat by the machine exhausted and upset. 
 ' 'What was I to do?" My head still ached, my 
 thoughts began to mingle the shop, the fore- 
 man with his arguments, the opera of last night, 
 my brother, his pal everything danced before 
 
Forced to Leave 179 
 
 me in dark confusion. I grew weaker and weaker 
 and felt that I was breaking down. 
 
 Not to show my weakness I stood up, straight- 
 ened myself quickly, took my coat and left. For a 
 long time I wandered around the streets, resting in 
 the squares, until I went to Clara. With her I al- 
 ways felt better. Late that night, I returned home. 
 My brother, thinking I was not coming, had his 
 friend with him again. That poor boy immediately 
 sprang up to go away, but I would not let him. 
 Together with my brother he slept in a narrow 
 single bed while I slept in the other. 
 
 The next afternoon I went to the union office. 
 Mr. Baroff , the manager, was surprised to see me in 
 the middle of the day. 
 
 "What happened? Are you not working?" 
 
 "I left because I did not like the place," I 
 answered. 
 
 He looked at me. I suppose he understood my 
 downhearted mood, for he did not question me any 
 more. He only said: "I do not think that you will 
 find any work until January. It is useless to look 
 for work now. You had better stay home and rest 
 until the busy season begins." 
 
 I looked at him. Did he really mean what he 
 said or was he joking? 
 
 He guessed my thoughts, for he immediately 
 explained to me: 
 
 "My dear girl, you must be more sensible, and 
 
180 One of Them 
 
 more trustful of people of my age. When I asked 
 you to accept the money I offered you" (he once 
 offered me a loan, but I had refused to accept it), 
 "I did not mean to give it to you. I only wanted 
 to help you out until you and your brother find 
 good jobs and could repay me. You are not the 
 only one to whom I lend money. I have not much, 
 but little as I have, I will gladly help you until you 
 begin to work, and then you will repay me. I know 
 you will." 
 
 I sat on the chair deadly pale. It was the second 
 time that he had offered me money. He simply 
 begged me to accept it, assuring me that he, also, 
 had once been in need and his friends had helped 
 him until he was able to repay. 
 
 But I had never borrowed any money from a 
 man. I felt insulted when a man offered to make 
 me a loan. My friend Clara was the only person 
 from whom I ever took money and that money was 
 already repaid. 
 
 "After all, he is only a good friend to me; he is 
 so different from other men. Why not accept the 
 money for a time? I will be able to return it as 
 I did Clara's," I thought. 
 
 "But if I am not able to repay, if I secure a job 
 and am not able to make enough to pay my debt, 
 what will I do then? Remain in debt? Oh, no, 
 no, "I did not accept the loan. 
 
 Coming home that night, I had an argument with 
 
A Greedy Landlady 181 
 
 the mistress of the house. She demanded pay for 
 the two nights the boy spent with us. That was 
 the limit for me. The boy slept in our room. My 
 brother shared his bed with him. Nothing of hers 
 was touched, not even a special sheet, and she 
 wanted to be paid just because the room was in 
 her house. Of course, I refused, for I had not the 
 money to pay. 
 
 "I also want an extra quarter for the additional 
 gas that you used this month. I think that I could 
 get nine dollars for two people in this room instead 
 of eight," she added. 
 
 "Well, all right; you are at liberty to rent this 
 room for as much as you can get. We will move 
 next month," I replied. 
 
 I was provoked at her greed, but she was no 
 exception. In almost every house where I had had 
 a room, except the cooperative house, the landlady 
 did not like to see me burn gas after ten o'clock 
 in the evening. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 NOW that I was forced to move, what was I to 
 do? 
 
 Accept the money or not accept it? A job I 
 would not find until the season started. It was 
 five or six weeks more to wait. I had no more than 
 three dollars to end the week. How was I to begin 
 the next week? How? How? 
 
 I felt that the nervous strain was weakening me, 
 that my health would surely break down if my 
 present circumstances did not change. If not for 
 myself, for my brother I had to borrow money, 
 for I felt responsible for his sufferings. Seeing no 
 other way of helping myself, I at last accepted the 
 loan, which was sufficient for us to live on, by being 
 very economical, during the next five weeks. I de- 
 cided to move uptown where rent is cheaper and the 
 surrounding air is purer. 
 
 It was queer how I began to avoid meeting Mr. 
 Baroff after I accepted his loan. Formerly I had 
 been glad to meet him often, to have our talks 
 which never ended. Now, I tried to avoid him, 
 much to his amazement. He did not know what 
 had happened to me. I was of the opinion that 
 friendship ceases as soon as one tries to profit by 
 a friend's kindness. I imagined that by the ac- 
 
Borrowing Money 183 
 
 ceptance of the loan, I had broken the bonds of 
 our friendship which I had valued so much. Oh, 
 how regretful and hurt I often felt when I thought 
 of it! But I could not prevent it. I took the 
 money; I had to accept it whether it was right or 
 wrong. 
 
 My brother could not stay with me uptown, for 
 he had to look for work in the downtown sections, 
 so I found for him a place to board at three dollars 
 a week on Avenue B. For myself, I found a room 
 on 113th Street, near Central Park, for five dollars 
 a month, which was as big, or as small, as the room 
 I had downtown. For one person, it was all right. 
 The room, at least, was much cleaner and there 
 were only two people in the house besides me. 
 
 With money to live on for the next few weeks, 
 I tried to rest and be comfortable. Next to my 
 house, in a three-room apartment, lived a young 
 couple, friends of mine, with whom I spent a great 
 deal of my time. The wife kept house and took up 
 a course in school-teaching, for she did not believe 
 in a woman's dependence on her husband, and she 
 expected to become a school-teacher in order that 
 she might be self-supporting. I have seldom known 
 such a happy family among the people I have met. 
 The harmony of ideas, the love and devotion that 
 this couple showed to each other, attracted me 
 greatly, and I always felt happy to spend my time 
 with them. 
 
184 One of Them 
 
 Attending once a lecture at the Francisco Ferrer 
 Centre I met a Canadian lady who had given me 
 a few lessons in English when I was in Toronto, 
 Canada. We were both surprised to see each other 
 in such a radical institution as the Modern School. 
 I had first met her in a settlement where she taught 
 English to foreigners. Her appearance and her 
 kindness made me think that she was one of the 
 missionaries of which Toronto is so full. I was 
 almost sure that she was a missionary until that 
 evening when I met her at the Modern School. 
 She was very glad to see me there, and badly as I 
 spoke even then, she could understand me much 
 better than the last time I had seen her. 
 
 We became interested in each other and I gladly 
 accepted her invitation to dinner. She lived in a 
 small apartment on East 79th Street. The cosy, 
 neatly furnished rooms, her own household, seemed 
 to me a paradise in comparison with my own small 
 room, where there was nothing but a bed, a chair, 
 and a table. She had her own dishes, her own linen, 
 her own furniture, everything of her own. She did 
 as she pleased and when she pleased, while I, since 
 I had left my parents in Russia, had had almost 
 nothing of my own. 
 
 "How nice and pleasant it feels to have an apart- 
 ment of your own with everything to please one's 
 self," I thought. "But as girls in my circumstances 
 can get their own apartment only as an appendage 
 
A Friendship Renewed 185 
 
 to a husband, and as some of us do not want or 
 cannot get one, they consequently cannot have an 
 apartment for themselves." 
 
 After dinner we began to tell each other about 
 our lives. I told her all about myself since I left 
 Toronto and she told me her experiences. She was 
 very much interested in the labor movement. In 
 1913, when the general strike broke out in the 
 needle trade, she came over from Toronto and 
 helped organize the wrapper and kimono workers. 
 When the strike was over, she was very weak and 
 took a trip to England. Now she was back again 
 working for the suffrage movement. 
 
 Before I left she asked me to come to visit her 
 often. I promised to do so. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 IN the middle of January I at last found a job 
 in a union shop of about two hundred workers. 
 The chairlady was a very gentle, sympathetic per- 
 son. She had worked in that shop for two years and 
 was popular with the workers, but there was one 
 fault with her: she was too autocratic in her ac- 
 tions. Among the hundred and fifty girls there 
 were about fifteen or twenty intelligent, active 
 union members who were interested in the good 
 and welfare of the shop. But she would consult no 
 one about the shop business; she asked no one's 
 opinion and did everything according to her own 
 judgment. With the best intentions she could not 
 take care of so many people, when, besides rep- 
 resenting the workers, she had to earn her living. 
 The boss selected a few favorites to whom he gave 
 the best and most work, thus securing them as his 
 supporters. It is quite customary for every em- 
 ployer, whether good or bad, to have some favor- 
 , ites in the shop whom he uses against their fellow- 
 workers. If any dispute arises in the shop, they 
 are always on the side of the boss. He also supplied 
 the chairlady with a better share of the work so as 
 to distract her attention from the unequal division 
 of work. The chairlady in her anxiety to make up 
 
A Union Shop 187 
 
 for lost time accepted the larger portion of work, 
 but failed to see how displeasing it was to the other 
 workers, arousing their jealousy and often distrust 
 toward her. 
 
 Another and very important thing neglected 
 was organizing the workers as true, conscious union 
 members. The understanding of unionism by most 
 of the girls was limited to paying dues, which often 
 they tried to avoid; also not scabbing in time of a 
 strike. They needed to be educated and enlightened 
 as to the cause of unity. If the chairlady had only 
 been willing to cooperate with the few active girls 
 in the shop, this might have been accomplished; 
 alone she worked very hard and could not attend 
 to everything. 
 
 On the whole, it was a good shop. Despite its 
 many faults it was much better than the many 
 other shops where I worked before and after. It 
 was very busy, the styles were simple that season, 
 the prices fair, and the workers earned fair wages. 
 
 I felt pleased to find a shop with an intelligent 
 chairlady. I was tired out; I longed for a place 
 where I could work uninterruptedly, at least for 
 a season, and pay off my debt. In this new shop 
 of mine my union activity was not essential, so I 
 could sit quietly and work. And I was quiet. 
 Among the many girls I was noticed very little. 
 The fourth week my eyes began to bother me a 
 great deal. My machine happened to be in a very 
 
si 
 
 188 One of Them 
 
 dark corner, and I had to work by gas-light all day. 
 My eyes first became impaired in that historic 
 association shop which I tried to organize. Now, 
 as soon as I worked by gas-light, my eyes would 
 become inflamed and cause me headaches. I asked 
 the boss to allow me to change my machine. He 
 had two empty machines in front near the windows 
 but he refused. Why did he refuse? What dif- 
 ference would it make to him if he had given me the 
 empty machine near the window? I did not know. 
 My eyes became worse from day to day. My 
 headaches were more frequent, causing me heavy 
 nightmares night after night. One evening at 
 home I was terrified when I saw my eyes in the 
 mirror they were bloodshot. Visions of blindness 
 rowded my mind. 
 
 "Goodness!" I cried in fear. "Better dead than 
 sightless!" I lay in bed, my imagination picturing 
 the horror of blindness. I closed my smarting eye- 
 lids, and in the darkness I began to ponder, climb- 
 ing high, high over something smooth, but sud- 
 denly fell back. What was it? I wanted to open 
 my eyes, but I could not, I could not separate my 
 eyelids. I was blind, blind already, and from all 
 around pitiful voices sounded: "Make way for her, 
 make way for the poor cripple." They all pitied me, 
 they took care of me, but I was too heavy a burden, 
 and finally they left me alone. And in this f orever- 
 dark-to-me world, I am groping my way, singing 
 
A Dream of Blindness 189 
 
 and begging pennies flying into my outstretched 
 hands. My former bosses meet me, they laugh, 
 they scoff with revenge, and with a sneer wave their 
 hand. 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha! that is what you get for your union 
 and your foolish sentimentality for your fellow- 
 workers." 
 
 "You made me go out of business when I was 
 so kind and gave you all chances for your future 
 advancement. I wanted to give you two helpers 
 through whom you could make money besides your 
 earnings, and I wanted to make you my fore- 
 lady." 
 
 "And I I Don't you remember me? 
 Don't you remember that Saturday when we were 
 alone in the office and you ran away leaving your 
 pay in my hands? Ha! ha! ha! will you run away 
 now? Can you see where? You may meet some 
 one worse than I. Ha! ha! ha! come over here. 
 Sing for me, no, dance for me, show your 
 grace now. Come on a nickel a dance. Dance 
 before me as Salome before Herod the king. Ha! 
 ha! ha!" 
 
 I was driven to dance, was made a laughing- 
 stock. "Livelier! Livelier!" they shouted from all 
 around. And livelier I danced, I sang, I jumped, 
 until my head felt giddy, my senses began to twirl, 
 my strength failed me, and I dropped down. I 
 screamed and awoke on the floor. 
 
190 One of Them 
 
 In the silent darkness the shadows of that sense- 
 less, mad dream boldly stood out, growing longer 
 and longer, but I was not blind. I saw all, I saw 
 everything in its ugly vividness. Each ticlc-tock of 
 the clock made me thrill with terror. Each hour 
 lengthened itself out like a century. Would the 
 morning never come? It seemed as if there was no 
 end to that frightful night. 
 
 In the morning, instead of going to work, I went 
 to look for another job. I valued my eyesight too 
 much to risk it further, and I found a place with 
 enough daylight. 
 
 It was an association shop. The firm manu- 
 factured a common line of cotton dresses. Work- 
 ers were hired by the week. Our union had no mini- 
 mum wage for week operators, for it demanded the 
 piece-work system. The association was supposed 
 to enforce that system in all its shops, but many 
 manufacturers did not carry out the demand, giv- 
 ing different reasons for their failure to do so. While 
 the piece-price in a union shop was fixed by the 
 workers and the boss, the weekly price was always 
 fixed by either the foreman or boss. It was up to 
 the workers to remain for the price offered or to 
 look for a better job. Workers were often very 
 much wronged by the week-work system. 
 
 When I asked for my price, in a few days, I was 
 offered nine dollars. That sounded like a joke. 
 
 I showed the foreman my pay envelope from 
 
A Machine by a Window 191 
 
 the previous week's earnings, which amounted to 
 $15.45. 
 
 "Why did you leave that job?" 
 
 "Because my machine was in a dark place and 
 the artificial light had hurt my eyes. " 
 
 "Well, in here you have a good light place; is it 
 not worth while to stay here for less?" 
 
 "For less, but not for so much less. Must I pay 
 you six dollars a week just for getting a machine 
 in a light place?" I asked angrily. 
 
 "My dear little girl, who says you must? No- 
 body is keeping you here." 
 
 I left that place. I would not work for nine 
 dollars when I knew I was worth fifteen. 
 
 As I had left some unfinished work in my old 
 shop, I returned to finish and get my pay. The 
 forelady was glad to see me back. 
 
 "I hope you do not desert us any more," she 
 said, as she gave me my bundle. 
 
 "I will not, if I get a machine by the window," 
 I answered, explaining why I had left the shop. 
 
 Through her and also through help of the chair- 
 lady I got a machine near the window, hoping that 
 nothing else would happen, for I liked that shop. 
 
 Had my brother found work I could have allowed 
 myself to live a little better, for in comparison with 
 my former earnings I made more now. But to sup- 
 port my brother and pay my debts I had not 
 enough for myself. I heard that the seasons in my 
 
192 One of Them 
 
 shop are always short, and if I had not any money 
 saved up for the dull season I should have to live 
 through the same life as in the former slack seasons. 
 I shuddered at those thoughts. I had lived through 
 three horrid dull seasons and I felt that physically 
 I could not endure any further strain. 
 
 My brother worried me terribly. Not being able 
 to find work, he was much discouraged and would 
 always walk around downcast. Tears were always 
 in his eyes when I brought him money to pay up his 
 board. "To think that such a delicate girl as you 
 should have to work so hard to support me such 
 a strong big boy with iron muscles as mine are!" 
 he would often say. I could do naught but com- 
 fort him. 
 
 Once when I came to visit him (I visited him 
 twice a week) I found him in bed with a terrible 
 toothache. In vain did he try to hide his agonies. 
 
 "It is nothing, sister, it will pass soon, it's only 
 a light toothache." He tried to comfort me, setting 
 his teeth together from pain. 
 
 "Will you go over to the dentist?" I asked him. 
 
 "Oh, no, no! I do not need any dentist, I assure 
 
 you." 
 
 His head was warm, his eyes burned with fever. 
 He must have caught a cold. He broke my heart 
 as I looked at him. "What if he gets sick!" I was 
 thrilled by that thought. "Oh, no, he would not, 
 he must not!" 
 
Two Pairs of Shoes 193 
 
 Sitting at his bedside my eyes were fixed at the 
 floor. I noticed his shoes. I picked them up. Both 
 soles were rubbed out and wide open. He did not 
 dare to ask me for extra money to have his shoes 
 repaired. " My fault, my fault ! How did I neglect 
 to ask him if his shoes were in order? Now if he 
 gets sick, it is mine whose fault it'll be!" 
 
 I took his shoes and immediately went down to 
 have them repaired. 
 
 When I came up again he asked me smilingly, 
 "Will you be so nice and show me your shoes; are 
 they in perfect order?" 
 
 "Why, sure they are," I answered, raising my 
 foot to show them to him, when I first learned that 
 mine were also open. How I walked around not 
 knowing that my shoe-soles were open, I do not 
 know. " I intend to buy new ones, so that I thought 
 they were not worth while fixing," I stammered. 
 
 Indeed, it was not worth while fixing it, the 
 shoemaker told me when I brought it down to him 
 next Sunday to be repaired. (I could not spare my 
 shoes in the middle of the week.) So for a long 
 time I wore a pair of old rubbers to cover my soles. 
 In wet or dry weather I always had them on. 
 
 At home that evening I sank in thoughts of 
 myself. Two years in America! Two years in the 
 golden country! What had I accomplished? a 
 weak stomach, headaches every other day, a pale 
 face, inflamed eyes, and my nose my nose also 
 
194 One of Them 
 
 began to complain. It wanted a doctor and I 
 could not afford to pay for one. To a dispensary 
 I had no time to go and I would not, even if I had 
 time. One dollar made a world of differences. For 
 a dollar the doctor would gently open the door for 
 the patient, would offer a thousand smiles, take his 
 time, and examine the patient thoroughly. In the 
 dispensary sometimes one had to waste all day to 
 get his turn, and when at last the chance came, 
 the patient would be treated so gruffly he would 
 feel as though he had not come to the doctor for 
 advice but to spoil his good moods. 
 
 If my mother could only know, if she could only 
 know! But never should she know! It is enough 
 for her, when she had to part with us. As she wrote 
 once to me: "Another child gone, another wound 
 in mother's heart ! Oh, where are my children, my 
 little birds? Was mother's nest too small for them? 
 Oh, if only I were a free bird now, if only I had 
 wings. I would fly, fly, through night and day, 
 through storm and sunshine, through oceans and 
 forests only to have a look at you, my children, 
 who left mother to find a better life, to build better 
 nests. For so many years I struggled. In the long, 
 cold, stormy winter nights, I watched over you, 
 cherished you. With my tears and prayers to God 
 I obtained your lives when death stood many a time 
 at your bedside, waiting for mother to give you up. 
 Never did I give you up. You were my pride, you 
 
My Mother's Letter 195 
 
 were my light in the dark life of my struggle against 
 poverty. And you gave up mother so easily! You 
 left your home with no regret! You left your 
 mother to her tears! Oh, where are you now? Are 
 you happy, are you warm, are you fed? If I could 
 only embrace you once more, feel you near my 
 wounded heart ! Other people have the pleasure to 
 hear you talk, to hear you laugh, to hear you sing ! Are 
 you still singing, my little daughter, or is your voice 
 forgotten under the heavy burden of the new life?" 
 That letter made me hysterical for a few hours 
 when I received it, and long afterwards, whenever 
 I re-read it, I could not keep from crying. There is 
 so much tragedy in each word of that letter. The 
 tragedy of all the Jewish mothers whose children 
 escape from where they suffer, from Russian bru- 
 tality, from Galician poverty. Youth does not want 
 to bow its head as its parents did, nor stand for so 
 much misery oh, so much ! Youth wants life, 
 happiness. In the hunt for a better, freer life, 
 Youth parts with its dear parents : parts full of hope 
 to be reunited in a better land, in better circum- 
 stances. But more often the hopes are crushed, the 
 lives are broken. Not all are able to reunite, and 
 they remain parted far, far away from one another. 
 The eternal anxiety for one another tears the heart 
 and soul to pieces. Neither the children in America 
 nor their parents abroad can ever be happy when 
 they are torn apart. 
 
196 One of Them 
 
 "Never should she know!" I repeated to myself, 
 and to comfort her I immediately sat down to write 
 a letter: 
 
 "Much beloved Mother: To begin with I want 
 to inform you that I am in perfect health and happi- 
 ness, wishing to hear the same from you." 
 
 Here I stopped. "Wishing to hear the same 
 from you ! " Alas, I surely do not wish to curse my 
 mother! I tore up the letter. But what shall I tell 
 her? What shall I write to her about? I took 
 another sheet. 
 
 "My best of best Mothers: With delight I read 
 your last letter. I was so happy to learn that 
 everything at home is in order. Please, mother, 
 don't cry. It worries me terribly. We are not dead, 
 we are alive. We'll try our very best to have you 
 all with us in the nearest future. Oh, how happy 
 I shall be when I have you all with us ! Sorrow will 
 be forgotten and the guardian angels will spread 
 their wings over us and watch our happiness, and 
 never, never again will we part! Tell the children 
 that I will answer their letters some other time. 
 Nathan's poem, which he dedicated to me, is very 
 hearty, but I don't like his grammar in it. This 
 was always his weak point. Tell him to pay more 
 attention to the Russian grammar. You know, 
 mother, I do think that he is an able little fellow. 
 
The Answer 197 
 
 He is only sixteen now, and if he has good oppor- 
 tunities he will be successful. 
 
 "With pride you tell me, mother, that little Eva 
 is my double that physically and mentally she 
 resembles me. I want to hope that she should be 
 much better than I am and more successful. How 
 is Sarah? Is she diligent in her studies? Is Dora 
 stronger now than she was? Have you any letters 
 from Israel, or does he write only when he needs 
 money? Poor fellow, two more years he must spend 
 in the military service. 1 
 
 "Please, mother, send me his address. I want to 
 write a letter to him. About us you should not 
 worry. We are all right. 
 
 "My best regards to all the children and father, 
 to him I will write to-morrow. I have so much 
 to tell him! Our discussions by correspondence 
 were stopped for quite a long time, and I want to 
 begin again. Is he still working so hard? Mother 
 dear, take care of yourself, father and the children. 
 "With love for everybody, 
 
 "Lisa." 
 
 I was up very early the next morning. After 
 having my light breakfast, which always consisted 
 of a glass of milk, I went to work. It was too early 
 
 1 He is compelled to serve a country which deprived him of all 
 possible liberty, of human rights. At present, when I write these 
 lines, he is back home with a wounded leg. 
 
198 One of Them 
 
 to go to the shop, so I turned in to the park for 
 a short while. With deep, hungry breath I drank 
 the frozen air which was so refreshing. 
 
 I watched the little frozen lake surrounded by- 
 naked trees covered with sleet, and it seemed to 
 remind me of homeless, poorly clad, lonely old 
 women shivering with cold. 
 
 The high rocks majestically stood out of the 
 white snow that covered the ground. For a while 
 there came back to me those bygone days when as 
 children we would steal out from the classroom 
 and run off to turn somersaults and stretch on the 
 snow, making human-like figures; how often would 
 we skate and play with snowballs late into the eve- 
 ning, returning home with glowing faces! Happy 
 but exhausted we would fall on our beds, and with 
 our clothes on sleep the night right through. Even 
 in the later years, when the happy carelessness was 
 gone with our childhood, when life made us more 
 thoughtful even then the winter had its charms 
 for us. We would go off in groups, exploring the 
 snow-clad woods and groves, enjoying the frosty 
 but romantic moonlight. Here this picturesque 
 park was deserted. Hundreds of people were pass- 
 ing by, and what a pity they paid no attention to 
 it they hurried anxiously to the near-by subway 
 for an earlier train, to be in time for work. 
 
 In this hurry-up, made world, they had no time 
 to look around them in this world of efficiency 
 
New York Subways 199 
 
 they were blinded to all natural beauty. In this 
 world of freedom they were made to work only - 
 work or starve, nay, work and starve. Human 
 beings were turned into machine value, their 
 strength was turned into dollars. This new world 
 full of riches turned life into gray prose, made 
 people a slave to the dollar even art seems to 
 be measured in the terms of money. 
 
 A chill ran through my body. Was it the reali- 
 zation of such a world, or was I so meagrely clad 
 for such a frosty morning I was recalled to my 
 duties to work, work and turn my work into 
 dollars. 
 
 At half -past seven I took the subway train down- 
 town. The trains in the mornings and evenings 
 were over-packed. The people were pressed to- 
 gether like sardines in a tin box. It was very hard 
 to breathe. I always tried to stand close to the door 
 with my face turned away from people, for the 
 worst kinds of diseases could easily be contracted, be- 
 ing so close to other people's breathing. Girls some- 
 times fainted in those crowded cars from the thick 
 air. I always got headaches travelling in the sub- 
 ways. In Russia no more passengers than seats 
 are allowed. Here in free America the people are 
 free to choke themselves with the suffocating sub- 
 way air. They are thrown together like cattle and 
 carried down to the industrial market. From the 
 people's nickels the company's millions grow like 
 
200 One of Them 
 
 weeds, and they could have enough cars to prevent 
 such dangerous crowding, if only they cared enough 
 for public welfare. 
 
 I was the first one in the shop that morning. The 
 workers usually filled up the place between a quar- 
 ter after eight and nine o'clock. With great dili- 
 gence I began to work. Oh, if I could only have 
 work enough for day and evening! I would willingly 
 work evenings, too, could I only get the work. I had 
 to earn enough for myself, for doctor's bills; I had 
 to save up some money in order to bring my par- 
 ents over here. Perhaps if we could be together, 
 we would not suffer so much. If we the older 
 children could not succeed, we could at least try 
 for the younger ones we could help them so as 
 to keep them out of the miserable factory life. 
 
 How I liked the work that day! I was thankful 
 to the boss, to the forelady, even to the girl who 
 gave out the work. My work as if by magic went 
 through my hands. I completed bundle after bun- 
 dle without any interruption. For lunch I only 
 spent ten cents instead of my regular fifteen cents. 
 I wanted to save from whatever I could. For the 
 first time I made four dollars and fifty cents in that 
 day, but it was also the last, for I never made that 
 much in the shop again. I was so happy. "What if 
 I would make four dollars and a half every day!" 
 I began to calculate that would make twenty- 
 four dollars a week. "Oh, it would be a fortune!" 
 
Shop Conditions in 1913-14 201 
 
 thought I, forgetting to think of my delicate health 
 that did not even stand for one day of such hard 
 work. I did not belong to the very quick workers. 
 I was one of the average, and the highest I ever 
 made in a week was eighteen dollars. After that 
 day's work I had to attend a meeting of the or- 
 ganization committee of our union. I was a member 
 of the organization committee and helped in organ- 
 izing the non-union shops. 
 
 During the year 1913-14 a number of manufac- 
 turers broke away from the Manufacturers' Associ- 
 ation and restored their shops to the former con- 
 ditions. It only happened in those shops where the 
 people were badly unionized. They were weaklings, 
 and the bosses saw their chances to break with the 
 union in order to have their own w r ays with the 
 workers. Those open shops began to increase and 
 some of the workers who protested against break- 
 ing with the union, were thrown out of the shops. 
 The same happened with some non-protocol union 
 shops. The organization committee consisting 
 of an organizer, a few executive board members, 
 and members of our union tried to get those 
 shops unionized again, for we saw great danger if 
 we let those open shops exist. Without the control 
 of the union the standards would become lower and 
 lower, and the low standards in the open shops 
 would certainly injure the higher standards in the 
 union shops. 
 
202 One of Them 
 
 We were divided into committees of two or three 
 members, and each committee was assigned every 
 other day to a shop. In the morning between seven 
 and eight and in the evening between five-thirty 
 and six-thirty, we would come over to the door of 
 the open shop and distribute circulars. The circu- 
 lars were printed in Yiddish, English, and Italian, 
 with an appeal to the people to get organized. But 
 we made very slow progress, for only a small num- 
 ber of our union members were willing to give their 
 time and energy for organization work. We needed 
 many people to do the work and did not get them. 
 
 I was assigned to go out early next morning with 
 some circulars. From the meeting I ran over to see 
 my brother. He felt a little better. I came home at 
 eleven in the evening. I felt very tired and sleepy. 
 Being afraid to eat before bedtime, I went to sleep 
 without my supper. In the morning I could hardly 
 get up. I must have exhausted myself too much 
 the day before. With great effort I dressed myself 
 and went downtown with the circulars. It was an 
 extremely cold day and I stood outside for an hour 
 distributing the circulars and trying to speak to the 
 people to appeal to them. My thin short coat 
 and my torn shoes were of very little protection 
 against the frost. I stood freezing patiently. When 
 I went to work at half -past eight I nearly fainted 
 from weakness, and before long my strength failed 
 me and I had to go home and rest. So for making 
 
A Life Full of Emptiness ! 203 
 
 four and a half dollars in one day I had to pay with 
 another day. I lay in bed blaming myself for my 
 weakness. Alas, I can't afford to be sick in the 
 height of the season. But in order to keep up my 
 health, I realized that I must feed myself better, 
 have warm clothes, and enough sleep. But how am 
 I to get enough money for all that? Oh, that money 
 problem! How much longer will that occupy my 
 mind? How much longer will that last? I'm so sick 
 of it ! Work, work ! Struggle, struggle ! and not even 
 enough from hand to mouth ! No time for reading, 
 no money for recreation ! Nothing but work, worry, 
 worry and work. How shall I get rid of the shop 
 that free prison? I shall be choked by its surround- 
 ings if I stay there any longer. I can't, I can't bear 
 a life full of emptiness ! How happy are those who 
 can fight patiently ! My patience is broken ! With 
 my body and soul I protest against such a life ! And 
 I can do nothing to change it. How weak I 
 How shamefully weak! 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 FROM that day on I ceased to do my work reg- 
 ularly. My headaches and depressed moods 
 would keep me in bed too often. I would come into 
 the shop at ten in the mornings, sometimes stop in 
 the afternoon, or leave the shop at five o'clock in- 
 stead of six. I very seldom put in a full day's work. 
 The boss was very much displeased to see me com- 
 ing at such irregular hours. He warned me he would 
 send me away if I did not come in time, for he could 
 not afford to keep a machine waiting for me even 
 for a few hours. I knew he would do it and tried to 
 come in time, but I worked very slowly. I would 
 sometimes take a bundle of work, and taking it 
 apart never see or realize what I was doing; the 
 different parts of the work would mingle before my 
 eyes and it would take me a long time to distinguish 
 one part from the other. The forelady would often 
 ask "Hundred and twelve , what happened to 
 you?" (We were called by numbers in most of the 
 shops.) " You are giving out too little work lately." 
 I tried my best, but could not help being slow. My 
 mind was upset, and very often, when I tried to 
 absorb myself in the work, and press the foot of my 
 machine to make it run faster, I would not notice 
 that my foot had stopped pressing and the machine 
 
Plans and Obstacles 205 
 
 was not going until a neighbor would awake me 
 with a joke. "How do the people look like on 
 Mars?" I would then shake myself and resume 
 work. 
 
 In my depression I sought quietness and would 
 spend the most of my time alone in my little room. 
 
 My new friend Alice was the only one whom I 
 visited frequently. With her I often discussed my 
 situation. She agreed that I must leave the shop, 
 for it was no place for me. The shop under the 
 present conditions is good for no human being to 
 work in. She also agreed that I must study English, 
 before I could do anything else. 
 
 Her desire was for me to become a labor organ- 
 izer. Myself, I was very enthusiastic for organiz- 
 ing work, but I feared that I could never make a 
 good speaker, which I thought was necessary for an 
 organizer. 
 
 tree as I felt when I spoke at shop meetings, or 
 among the girls at work, I would not feel free on the 
 public platform. It was hard to decide. The first 
 thing to do was to conquer the language, then study 
 the labor questions, the social evils of the present 
 and past centuries, before I had a right to think 
 of becoming an organizer. But how was I to study? 
 I was so tired after a day's work that my brain was 
 too dull for study. And my eyes, once affected, 
 could not stand any strain in the evening. 
 
 I saw no hope. One monotonous day followed 
 
206 One of Them 
 
 another. The same dull mornings, hurry to the 
 shop, the same dangerously crowded cars, the 
 same people in the shop, the same machine, 
 everything the same day after day. Oh, how sick- 
 ening, how hateful ! 
 
 My brother also became nervous. He was much 
 discouraged from walking around in the streets day 
 in, day out, looking for work. When at last he 
 found one job he left it in two days. I remember in 
 what angry excitement I found him when I re- 
 turned from work. 
 
 "What happened?" I asked. 
 
 "I left my position. The boss wanted me to 
 make a bum job and I refused. This morning when 
 I was sent to fix a pipe in a cellar, the boss told me 
 to be ready with it in half an hour. When I was on 
 the job I found that the alteration needed at least 
 an hour's time or else the pipe would burst again in 
 a few days. The woman complained to me that she 
 had had the pipe fixed two or three times during 
 the last month and that it burst again soon after it 
 was fixed. I promised her to make a good job. 
 While I was working, the boss came in. 
 
 " ' What is it you are doing in here so long? ' he 
 asked me. 
 
 " 'This pipe needs to be cleaned thoroughly before 
 we put the zinc in, or it'll burst,' I answered. 
 
 M * Fool that you are ! You don't mean to fix the 
 pipe so it should keep for a year, do you? If you 
 
A Quarrel 207 
 
 make such jobs everywhere, the pipes would never 
 break. Do you expect to make business that way? 
 Fine business man! Come on, finish it up.' 
 
 "I protested. 'Mr. Boss,' I said, 'you are paid 
 to make a good job, not to spoil it.' 
 
 "'None of your business what I'm paid for; do 
 as I tell you or go where you came from ! ' 
 
 " So I went where I came from. Would you ex- 
 pect me to do otherwise?" 
 
 I was silent for a moment, thinking what to an- 
 swer him. Was he right or wrong? Surely he was 
 right, but where could he find a boss who does not 
 do "business"? 
 
 " You know, Sam," I said, "you are not working for 
 almost six months. You must at last find a job " 
 
 He did not let me finish. 
 
 "You, whom I always thought the most ideal 
 girl, should speak that way!" 
 
 "No, I mean that you must do it until you are 
 able to stand on your own feet, and do as you like 
 that is, until you are able to work for yourself, 
 not for the boss!" 
 
 He misunderstood me. 
 
 "I know what you mean. You are tired of giving 
 me the four dollars a week. I don't need them! I 
 don't need them! Never again will I take your 
 money, you can keep it for yourself!" he cried out 
 in anger and left the room. 
 
 It was the second time since he came that we had 
 
208 One of Them 
 
 quarrelled. I did not mean to hurt him. He misun- 
 derstood me when I only wanted to advise him. 
 But was not I a little too hard to him? The poor 
 boy thought I was tired of him. How would I feel 
 in his position? Tears of regret began to flow from 
 my eyes. Oh, miserable, miserable life, when will 
 all that end ! For a whole week my brother did not 
 speak to me, neither did he accept my money. At 
 last, through the aid of a girl friend who worked 
 in the same shop with me, I made him come back 
 to me. After a long talk with him I decided to 
 send him away to Toronto, Canada, where my 
 eldest brother had recently arrived from Russia. 
 I thought that perhaps there near my brother he 
 might be able to find a job. The problem was how 
 to send him. The immigration office in Canada 
 was very careful not to admit people without 
 money. A friend of mine from Toronto happened 
 to visit New York at that time and he took my 
 brother along with him on his way back. 
 
 I can never forget the expression in his eyes when 
 he bade his last good-bye to me. They were full of 
 love and gratitude to me, full of fear for the new 
 country he was going to enter, not knowing what 
 the change would bring him. That helpless, lonely 
 look in his eyes was heart-breaking, that fear to 
 enter another strange country among unknown 
 people. I was the only comfort he had had since 
 he left home, and even me he was losing now. 
 
The Brother Leaves 209 
 
 " Cheer up, boy, you are going to begin a new life. 
 I'm so sure that in a short time we'll meet again, 
 and I'll see you happy and contented," I tried to 
 comfort him. 
 
 He was silent, his eyes watched me all the time. 
 He entered the train like one who enters a place of 
 sure death. A deep sigh drew out of his breast when 
 the train moved. That sigh cried to me, "Oh, 
 where will I be thrown now?" 
 
 Downcast and broken-hearted, I returned home. 
 "Was it right to let him go away from me? He is 
 so young and inexperienced in life, what will hap- 
 pen to him there?" I thought. My elder brother 
 was a man of a cool character quite a contrast to 
 the rest of our family. Besides, he was a married 
 man and had to mind his own family, and being 
 himself a newcomer, I was afraid that he would not 
 be able to take care of my younger brother, and it 
 worried me very much. But what could I do? I 
 was glad to give him my last cent, but that did not 
 help him. It was suicidal to him to walk around 
 for days and days without work. Perhaps there in 
 Toronto where the unemployment is not so horri- 
 ble, he would at last get something to do. Trying 
 to comfort myself with that hope, I fell asleep. The 
 next morning I awoke with my usual headache. I 
 could hardly raise my head, and wanted to stay 
 home, but as it was Saturday and we only worked 
 till one o'clock, I went to work. 
 
210 One of Them 
 
 A girl friend asked me to accompany her to the 
 opera. She had never heard^Caruso, and now, as she 
 was going to leave for Switzerland the next month 
 to be married there, she wanted to hear him before 
 her departure. I willingly accepted her invitation. 
 We went to the opera and stood in the crowded line 
 for general admission. It happened to rain hard 
 and while I was protected with an umbrella, my 
 feet were soaked through my open soles. But what 
 did it matter? Caruso and the best star cast were 
 singing. What more did I want? Hundreds of us 
 stood behind the orchestra around the rails enjoy- 
 ing the music on foot. Here were crowds of all kinds 
 of toilers, who after a day's hard work came to 
 stand on their feet for another few hours to sweeten 
 their sorrow with music. 
 
 At the end of the second act I was overtaken with 
 feverish chills. I grew tired and seated myself on a 
 rail near the aisle. An old gentleman passed and 
 bent over to me. 
 
 "Are you tired, young lady? Would you like to 
 use my seat? I am leaving now." 
 
 I thanked him heartily and went to look for the 
 number marked on the check. It was D, number 20, 
 a very comfortable chair near to the stage. But 
 no sooner had I sat down than two middle-aged 
 ladies frowned at me through their lorgnettes and 
 called for the usher. The usher immediately re- 
 sponded, and noticing me he asked in surprise: 
 
Clothes and the Opera 211 
 
 "Why your ticket, ma'm?" 
 
 I showed him the ticket. 
 
 "I'm sorry, but you can't have this seat," he 
 said, after examining my ticket. 
 
 "Why can't I? This ticket entitles me to it," 
 I replied indignantly. 'It was given to me and I 
 have a right to it." 
 
 "But you can't sit here," he argued; "these 
 ladies object to your sitting here because you are 
 not dressed decently." 
 
 "But I did not come here to exhibit my clothes. 
 I came to hear the opera," I said angrily. 
 
 But he would not let me stay, and to avoid a 
 scene I dragged my tired legs back to the stand- 
 ing place. I looked at my dress, then I looked up 
 and around at the "decency" in the orches- 
 tra and boxes and I understood. My arms and 
 shoulders were not exposed that 's why I was not 
 dressed decently. 
 
 I could no more listen to the music. I was nerv- 
 ous and embittered. Can any one convince me that 
 they had a right to object to me, when I had the 
 ticket? Can I ever forgive that aristocratic "de- 
 cency" which deprived me of the chair that was so 
 gently offered to me when I was tired out, hardly 
 having strength enough to stand on my water- 
 soaked feet? 
 
 Those high-class ladies who never earned the silk 
 and gold laces they had on, who were kept by their 
 
212 One of Them 
 
 parents or by their husbands, who would be lost 
 if they were not supported, objected to me that 
 worked so hard for even the shabby dress that I 
 had on. 
 
 My heart was bubbling with anger and feeling of 
 injustice. Why had I not a right to the music that 
 I liked so much? They deprived me of my little 
 recreation that I so seldom got. And while I stood 
 leaning on the rail, I was seized with a new ambi- 
 tion an ambition to get rich and buy up a num- 
 ber of seats among the richest, and place on those 
 chairs people with shabby clothes. And to show 
 that "shabbiness" perhaps understands and feels 
 music more than "gold embroidered chiffons." 
 
 The next day I was in bed enjoying a fine cold. 
 I could allow myself that luxury, for it was Sunday. 
 I did not know I had the grippe, and on Monday I 
 went to work. I thought it was only a plain cold, 
 and for such I could not afford to stay home in the 
 height of the season. It was the last days in March. 
 There was one more busy month to end the spring 
 season, then slack season again. If I had worked 
 regularly as the others did, I would perhaps have 
 had a few dollars saved up, but now what am I to 
 do, what am I to do, when the dull season will 
 approach me? With the last bit of my strength I 
 rushed my work, trying to make up for loss of time. 
 
 As if the vision of "slack" had the same meaning 
 for everybody, so the girls were rushing more than 
 
The Twenty-fifth of March 213 
 
 ever. Bundles were flying from hand to hand, 
 waists were slipping from the machines into the 
 baskets, from the baskets to the counter. The girls 
 were bent low over their machines, as if nothing else 
 mattered to them; their talking ceased, only their 
 singing encouragingly speeded the ponderous ma- 
 chines as if driving them quicker. The forelady 
 ran from one table to the other as if in a frenzy 
 all was rush and we were in it. 
 
 But all that humdrum rush, the buzzing noise, 
 suddenly stopped. I came in to work one morning 
 and found the girls in a peculiarly excited condi- 
 tion. Each looked at the other so strangely. The 
 girls on my table scarcely worked. Some of them 
 were dressed in black. It was unusually quiet: no 
 laughter, no songs to accompany the noisy ma- 
 chinery. The faces of all were so serious and sad. 
 
 "What happened?" I asked my neighbor. 
 
 "Why it's the 25th of March to-day!" 
 
 "The 25th of March so what is that?" 
 
 She looked at me unpleasantly surprised. I felt 
 very weak that morning and was indifferent to 
 questioning any more. I absorbed myself in the 
 work and I could hardly notice what was going on 
 around me. 
 
 Suddenly my neighbor pulled my sleeve. "Why 
 don't you stand up?" 
 
 I raised my head. All the people in the shop 
 stood on their feet, mournfully looking at each 
 
214 One of Them 
 
 other. Instinctively I jumped up. We stood that 
 way for a few seconds. Tears were in the people's 
 eyes when they went back to work. I felt ashamed 
 to ask my neighbor again. From the way she looked 
 at me I understood that any waist-maker should 
 know what the 25th of March was. As I sat puz- 
 zled, the word "Triangle" was pronounced some- 
 where behind me. I thrilled with terror! It struck 
 me immediately the memorial day of the hun- 
 dred and forty-seven young workers who lost their 
 lives on the 25th of March in the year 1911. How 
 stupid was I not to guess it at once in the morning 
 when I entered the shop ! 
 
 When that catastrophe occurred I was home in 
 Russia. I still remember what a panic that news 
 caused in our town when it first came. Many a 
 family had their young daughters in all parts 
 of the United States who worked in shops. And 
 as the most of those old parents had an idea of 
 America as one big town, 1 each of them was al- 
 most sure that their daughter was a victim of that 
 terrible catastrophe. Their tears never dried until 
 they at last received letters from their children 
 that they were alive. So it was the 25th of March 
 
 1 I remember when I left my home for Canada an old woman 
 neighbor of ours came over with a sponge cake, asking me the favor 
 to take the cake along with me and deliver it to her girl, who lived 
 in New York. I told her I was not going to New York, but to Can- 
 ada. "Oh, it's all right, my child, America is one world! You'll find 
 her, you'll surely recognize her." 
 
The Triangle Memorial 215 
 
 to-day! In the same day three years ago one hun- 
 dred and forty-seven girls were burned alive! I 
 could work no more. My machine, the work, the 
 shop, and the people all faded, and before me 
 stood out the picture of Waverly Place where the 
 big Ash Building was embraced in fire tongues. 
 Hundreds of people crowded the windows crying 
 piteously for help. The doors were locked, no fire 
 escapes in all the building. Most of the men were 
 quick enough to get into the elevators and were 
 saved. Those girls who could not push themselves 
 through to the elevators jumped through the win- 
 dows and were killed. The rest were burned. 
 
 Impatiently I waited for that evening. I wanted 
 to know more about the Triangle. I wanted to 
 know what kind of a shop it was before and after 
 the fire. I knew that our union had a memorial 
 meeting for the hundred and forty-seven innocent 
 victims that evening and was anxious to be present 
 and know more about it. After six o'clock I went to 
 the union office and entered the manager's room. 
 He had his hat and coat on ready to leave. "No 
 complaints to-night, little friend! I must hurry to 
 the meeting," he said. 
 
 "Oh, please, just for a few minutes. You are 
 dealing with the Triangle since 1913. You know 
 all about that firm in the past. Will you not tell 
 me about it. I want so much to know of the con- 
 ditions prevailing there now and before." 
 
216 One of Them 
 
 I spoke with such urgency that he could not re* 
 fuse. " Come on for supper with me if you wish. 
 We'll talk while eating," he said. 
 
 I gladly consented. In the restaurant in a far cor- 
 ner, at a small table, there we sat silent for a long 
 while until he at last began, his deep, expressive 
 eyes sadly gazing into space while he spoke: 
 
 "For years and years our union had a hard 
 fight with the Triangle Waist Company. The most 
 miserable conditions that could be imagined pre- 
 vailed in the Triangle shops. Directly the bosses 
 had very little to do with the workers. They kept 
 men inside contractors. Each man had a set of ten 
 or twelve girls, who worked under him. Those men 
 were the actual employees of the Triangle. The 
 people worked the longest hours, getting two and 
 three dollars a week. The discipline there was of 
 the severest. The doors were locked from soon 
 after eight in the morning till lunch hour. If any 
 girl happened to be a few minutes late after lunch, 
 the door was locked against her till the next morn- 
 ing. No one was allowed to leave the shop during 
 working hours. 
 
 "The sub-contractors always tried to get in 
 newly arrived immigrants people without any 
 knowledge of the English language and American 
 life people who were helpless and lived at the 
 mercy of the bosses, who only gave them enough to 
 keep soul and body together. Their time and free- 
 
Conditions in the Triangle 217 
 
 dom belonged to the boss. Like locked-up prisoners 
 they sat working in the shop a place without 
 the slightest protection for their lives. And when 
 at last the people could not stand any longer such 
 slavery, they went down on strike, demanding a 
 little of their human rights. For twenty weeks the 
 firm fought them bitterly, trying to break the 
 strike. They hired gangsters to make riots and 
 fight the pickets, and when the men gangsters 
 would be afraid to beat girls, the firm went so far 
 as to hire immoral women to beat the pickets. 
 The union, at this time being very small and weak, 
 tried her best to help the strikers. For the first 
 time the union called a general strike, and though 
 many shops were organized, the Triangle remained 
 as it was. The strike was broken, the people re- 
 turned to work on the previous conditions. Again 
 the people worked for three dollars a week. Again 
 they slaved behind locked doors. The cuttings of 
 the goods were always heaped up around the tables. 
 The smallest spark could inflame all the building 
 in a minute. The people never thought of it. Their 
 struggle for mere existence could not make them 
 realize in what danger they were every minute of 
 the day in case of fire. While in the union shops 
 the people worked on Saturday till one o'clock in 
 the afternoon, in the non-union shops, including 
 the Triangle, the people worked till five. The fire 
 broke out on Saturday between three and four in the 
 
218 One of Them 
 
 afternoon, and before the people had time to get 
 up from their machines the house was all in flames. 
 The foremen and contractors, who had the keys 
 of the doors with them, forgot to think of the peo- 
 ple. They hastened to save their own lives, leaving 
 the people to the mercy of the fire. And oh, " 
 
 Here he stopped for a while, his teeth gnashing, 
 his eyes sparkling fire. 
 
 "Who only saw that panic could never forget it. 
 The heart-breaking cries of the burning girls! It 
 still rings in my ears. Like wounded animals they 
 ran from one door to another, knocking, calling 
 for help, but all in vain. 
 
 "Down the street, around the building, thou- 
 sands of people stood, but could not help. Women 
 fainted and cried in the streets. The unfortunate 
 parents of the victims ran around in a frenzy. 
 
 "Suddenly a terrible cry 'My child! Oh, 
 my child!' a mother stood near me clasping her 
 hands in agony, and looking wildly up at the burn- 
 ing building where her daughter stood near the 
 window, her hands outstretched. 
 
 "'Mother, mother!' she cried, and jumped out 
 through the window. One instant and she lay 
 crushed to death on the sidewalk. Her mother, 
 falling on the body, was immediately stricken with 
 insanity. A few seconds later four girls clasped 
 their arms and jumped. Their heads were crushed, 
 their arms still clasped around each other. The 
 
After the Fire 219 
 
 rest of the girls, seeing their co-workers killed on 
 the sidewalk, were afraid to jump, and they found 
 their death in fire." 
 
 He stopped. Tears were in his eyes. He did not 
 touch his supper. Neither did I. 
 
 "To think that the Triangle bosses were so 
 heartless, when only on Saturday that terrible 
 catastrophe occurred; when all the city mourned; 
 when the burned and mutilated bodies still lay on 
 the street, those bosses were so shameless as to 
 come out with an advertisement the following 
 Monday, notifying the people that they were ready 
 for business in their new office ! Ready for business 
 again, so soon after the horrible death of a hundred 
 and forty-seven young beings! They could have 
 foreseen the danger in not having fire-escapes, in 
 not cleaning up the heaped-up scraps of goods. 
 They did not care. They kept the doors closed so 
 that a worker should not be able to leave during 
 working hour's and soon after that fire the Tri- 
 angle opened that shop again. The factory's con- 
 tractors got other newly arrived innocent young 
 immigrants. They made these girls work the same 
 long hours, for the same starvation wages, under 
 the same strong discipline as before. 
 
 "Memorial meetings were held all over. Social 
 workers and other sympathizers were present at 
 these meetings. They condemned the Triangle and 
 many other factories where the workers were in 
 
220 One of Them 
 
 danger, every minute in the day, of being fried 
 on the capitalistic frying-pan. They promised to 
 do all in their power to help the workers to protect 
 their lives. But soon after the bodies were buried, 
 and the memorial meetings were over, everything 
 quieted. 
 
 "At present, when the Board of Sanitary Con- 
 trol is in existence, the sanitary conditions are con- 
 siderably improved, but only a small number of 
 the factories are absolutely safe from fire. Most 
 of them are still dangerous." 
 
 For a long while he was silent, his eyes still fixed 
 in the distance. 
 
 "How is the Triangle at present?" I broke the 
 silence. 
 
 "Oh," he began, "in 1913 the Triangle joined 
 the Manufacturers' Association, and had the peo- 
 ple in that factory been fully organized, they would 
 have benefited from the protocol as the organized 
 workers did. It was strongly believed that after 
 such wholesale slaughter as had occurred, the peo- 
 ple would at last awake, they would at last open 
 wide their eyes and see what life they live in, see 
 who and what is depriving them of their happiness 
 and liberty, stand up and, with their joint power, 
 free themselves from the legal criminals and create 
 a better world, and lead a better life; but unfortu- 
 nately they do not yet realize, they still lack 
 self -consciousness. They still have the slaving spirit 
 
One of the Worst Shops 221 
 
 of their fathers and forefathers the spirit that 
 calls only for obedience. They are afraid to organ- 
 ize, because the non-union people are more favored. 
 
 "Though the Triangle Waist Company is a pro- 
 tocol shop, it is still one of the worst shops in the 
 waist and dress industry. The people are still week 
 workers, working on the section system under the 
 control of inside contractors. We have tried our 
 best to abolish the inside contracting system, but 
 it is very hard to accomplish. This firm is practic- 
 ing the contracting secretly, and is careful enough 
 not to have the contractors on the business rec- 
 ord as contractors, but as ordinary individual em- 
 ployees. If we receive a complaint from a girl in 
 the shop that she works for a contractor and we 
 take the matter up, we seldom succeed with it. I, 
 together with the chief clerk of the Manufacturers' 
 Association, was up a few times in that shop to 
 find out about it. The firm would always deny the 
 charge. On the record the contractors are entered 
 as plain operators, and though we know they are 
 contractors, we are not able to fight, for it is im- 
 possible to establish the real facts." 
 
 It was very late when we left the restaurant, 
 but I did not go home. Carelessly we wandered 
 along the sound-asleep dark streets, each one ab- 
 sorbed in heavy thoughts. I felt downhearted, and 
 a hopeless mood spread over me. 
 
 I felt pained for the hundred and forty- seven 
 
222 One of Them 
 
 dead victims, and still more for the millions of live 
 victims of the present capitalistic system. Who, 
 after all, is responsible for such murders? Where 
 is the law to prosecute the murderers Triangle 
 bosses? Who is to remove those black wings which 
 spread over the lives of the young, hopeful men 
 who lost their brides, their future wives in that 
 fire? Who is to remove those wings of misfortune 
 that spread over the homes of the unfortunate 
 fathers and mothers who lost their children, 
 their pride, their bread-winners? From the Rus- 
 sian autocratic weapons those parents ran to save 
 their children; from hunger, from disease they 
 saved their little ones to "free America" they 
 fled; only to bring their children to the altar of 
 capitalism! In front of their eyes their children 
 were burning! Over a hundred future mothers of 
 American citizens were murdered! But that was 
 not the only disaster. 
 
 Many thousands of American citizens who struck 
 in Lawrence and in Paterson and in Colorado for a 
 better life were cruelly beaten, and some killed. 
 
 Where was the Government to protect its citi- 
 zens? Why is the Government so indifferent to 
 the miserable lives of those who produce the enor- 
 mous wealth of the country? Is this a country free 
 only for capitalists who have the real power? We 
 are not citizens, but free slaves! In times of slav- 
 ery, the people belonged to the master directly. 
 
Free Slaves 223 
 
 Whose are we now? Don't we belong to the master 
 indirectly? We come and beg, we offer our hands, 
 our brains, our energy, and our freedom for sale. 
 In times of slavery the master would sell his people 
 if he pleased; now the people are compelled to sell 
 themselves! 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 MY cold became worse at the end of the week, 
 and on Saturday morning I lay in bed burn- 
 ing with fever. I grew hot; I felt thirsty and hun- 
 gry, and I could not move. Not a soul around me 
 no one knew I was sick. The loneliness choked 
 me. In my feverish agony I imagined that no one 
 cared about me. I felt alone and deserted. Oh! 
 how I longed for a warm, motherly hand, for a 
 warm, soothing word in that small, stuffy room, 
 that seemed to grow still smaller in my feverish 
 mind. The walls came close together, and tightened 
 around me, clenching my head. It grew noisy in 
 my ears in my head I fell into drowsiness. 
 
 Only late the next day the mistress of the house 
 happened to open my door, and found me sick. 
 She brought a doctor, and he ordered me to stay 
 in bed for a week. I had the grippe in a severe 
 form. 
 
 I looked like a shadow when I went back to 
 work the second week. I needed a good long rest 
 in order to regain my strength, for I had worked 
 too hard and worried too much for many, many 
 months. But I did not dare to think of it. I was 
 anxious to work and pay up the rest of my debt. 
 It lay upon my mind as a heavy burden, and I had 
 
The First of May, 1914 225 
 
 to get rid of it. I made the biggest pay in my entire 
 career as waist-maker the second week in April 
 eighteen dollars! Then the next week it turned 
 slow all of a sudden. 
 
 Another first of May approached. In my present 
 shop I did not have to agitate the girls to stop from 
 work and keep holiday. They were quite enthusi- 
 astic about the first of May themselves, and made 
 great preparations for the coming holiday. They 
 made up white waists with red collars a uniform 
 for the parade, all one style, as an expression of 
 solidarity. 
 
 Thousands of workers men, women joined 
 in the grand march. All held signs of protest against 
 this capitalistic system. There were signs with pro- 
 test against the brutality of the Rockefeller officers 
 toward the miner-strikers in Colorado. There were 
 also many signs with strong protests against the 
 war that seemed imminent between the United 
 States and Mexico. The people did not want war 
 they had nothing against the poor Mexicans, 
 who were just as helpless against their bandit cap- 
 italists as the people here are helpless. The war 
 would mean more mines, more wealth for the Wall 
 Street magnates, and more widows applying to 
 charity institutions, more orphans coming into the 
 orphan asylums, more insane mothers in the insane 
 asylums the result of war to the unprotected 
 working-class. 
 
 1 
 
226 One of Them 
 
 My shop was a new branch of one of the largest 
 firms in the industry one of the most famous for 
 its sweat conditions. In the busy season we saw 
 none of the actual bosses, except the one who was 
 always in the shop he was one of the minor 
 partners. Now, when it turned slow, they began 
 to visit our shop very frequently and meddle in 
 everything. Their other shops were similar to 
 the famous Triangle Company, and so they were 
 shocked to find that some girls in our place earned 
 as high as eighteen and twenty dollars a week. To 
 equalize our shop with their others, they began to 
 cut down the prices and enforce new rules. But 
 our girls refused to submit to new rules that would 
 violate the union agreement. Our boss who man- 
 aged the shop always treated us quite fairly, but 
 now he tried to carry out the instructions of the 
 higher authorities, and disputes between him and 
 the workers began to arise. 
 
 I interfered very little in the shop occurrences at 
 that time, for since I had the grippe my health had 
 become worse and worse, and that created in me an 
 awful indifference to everything. I felt too tired 
 to work, too tired to think, too tired to live. 
 
 My few friends were very anxious about me. 
 They all advised me to leave town for the country 
 for a few weeks, but I could not take anybody's 
 advice because I had not any money. 
 
 My day's existence wholly depended on my day's 
 
Making Summer Outfits 227 
 
 work, and tired out though I was, I could not 
 stop. But the second week in May work practically- 
 ceased in our shop. We would sit in the shop all 
 day waiting for some work that came in from time 
 to time, giving us occupation for one or two hours. 
 While waiting, the girls busied themselves in mak- 
 ing their own clothes. They would buy up all the 
 remnants left in the shop, or hunt up bargains in 
 the various department-store basements, and pre- 
 pare their own summer outfits. 
 
 It made one wonder to watch with what endeavor 
 they tried to piece out waists of the smallest rem- 
 nants, copying the styles from our shop. Seldom 
 could a girl (unless she was a "swell") afford to 
 buy a waist in our shop, for though we made them, 
 they were too expensive for us, and we had to find 
 satisfaction in cheaper imitations. In one of these 
 basement bargains, some of my shopmates fitted 
 me into a dress made of various pieces of cotton 
 voile; the cost of it all amounted to sixty cents, and 
 while they fitted it on me, they teased me, saying, 
 " Now you are ready for the country upon our 
 words, with this dress on, you'll have all them 
 fellows out there after you." 
 
 Those magic words country, vacation, fellows 
 were occasionally mentioned while the girls were 
 helping each other with the fitting. They spoke 
 with great relish of the good times of last year, tell- 
 ing one another of their experiences in the country. 
 
228 One of Them 
 
 "Say, you was in the Y.W.'s country place last 
 summer, is it good? " some one asked her neigh- 
 bor. 
 
 "Good for nothin'," her neighbor answered. 
 "Never again to them 'charity pleasures'! I get 
 enough living in the Association all the year around. 
 You ain't got a thimble's full o' freedom. There is 
 rules for everything sleep, eat, wake up all 
 rules. We get to think that we are nothin' but 
 rules. We only get two weeks' vacation in all them 
 twelve months, and we like to enjoy it, and forget 
 everything, but there you can't. They make you 
 work cause you only pay three dollars a week, and 
 jus' when you are outside runnin' around, havin' 
 a good time, they call you in to set the table, take 
 off the table, or do some other little t'ings. You 
 can't enjoy much, though you don't work hard, 
 it's a sort o' duty you don't like to have, when 
 you wan'na be perfectly free. Them charity insti- 
 tutions t'ink they do you a lot o' favors, but they 
 don't, 'specially when you work for the rest of the 
 expenses, and it's still charity favor." 
 
 "Why should you live at the Y.W.'s? I would 
 never stay there, even if they kept me for nothing," 
 said one of the girls who stood aside and listened 
 indulgently to her neighbors' talk. "They keep 
 charity homes for poor working-girls. Why don't 
 they see that the working-girl gets paid properly 
 for the work she is doing, and need not live in a 
 
Plans for Vacation 229 
 
 charity home? Our rich employers give charity by 
 underpaying us; for our money they get fame and 
 praise eh, if they only paid us what we deserved, 
 we could get comfortable homes without their help; 
 with our money they are kind and charitable." 
 
 "You are perfectly right," the inmate of the 
 Y.W.C.A. assented, and as if unwilling to be 
 switched off the main subject she turned to her 
 first questioner: "You been in Connecticut for your 
 vacation; how did you like it?" 
 
 "Nothin' doin' in Connecticut for me this sum- 
 mer. I'm goin' to the mountains. It's been a 
 rotten boarding-place. Mind you, not even a de- 
 cent dancin' hall, and only two 'n' half fellows to 
 a dosend girls. There ain't much fun in dancin' 
 with girls," she remarked. 
 
 "That's right, dem cheap countries is good for 
 nothing," another girl remarked with authority. 
 "You come with me, where I was last summer. 
 My! they got some dancin' hall, and fresh eggs 
 and chicken every day, and lots of fellows too. 
 We'd hardly skip a night we'd dance till twelve 
 and one at night," she finished with relish. 
 
 "Where is that country of yours?" a few girls 
 asked her anxiously. 
 
 "Why, it's right in the Catskill Mountains in 
 Sullivan County." 
 
 I had time enough to observe and listen to their 
 talks and found that only a few of us were there to 
 
230 One of Them 
 
 whom country meant a nice, quiet resting-place, 
 where one could leisurely breathe the fresh air. 
 To the great many girls who are deprived all the 
 year around of proper recreation, the country is 
 like a big, exciting reception for which they are 
 preparing themselves for weeks ahead country 
 to them meant fresh-laid eggs for breakfast, chicken 
 for dinner, and a dancing hall to dance away their 
 vacation 
 
 And such was their life such was the breadth 
 of our world, realized by only a few of us who 
 looked at the others rather indulgently, if not with 
 pity. Still, in their ignorance they were at least 
 happier than we, happier because of their ignorant 
 indifference to their wretched life. 
 
 Our days in the shop became more and more 
 monotonous, as we sat waiting for work most of 
 the time. We grew weary of our idleness and of 
 the warm weather, and at last the forelady laid us 
 off for one week. I stopped working altogether. I 
 gave up my room, and, by invitation, went to stay 
 with my friend Alice at her small apartment that 
 I liked so much. She was going to leave the city 
 soon, and wished to have me with her for a while. 
 My friend Alice was a great optimist and tried her 
 best to revive my spirits in me, but I confess it was 
 the hardest task she ever undertook. 
 
 My present pessimistic state of mind developed 
 not only from my own sufferings, but also from the 
 
Doubts and Desires 231 
 
 life around me. The general conditions of the peo- 
 ple among whom I lived filled my heart with misery. 
 My head was always puzzled with the question of 
 inequality in this universe. I was unable to decide 
 what remedy would be best to equalize the world. 
 One thing I understood: that the present capital- 
 istic system must be changed, that the wealth 
 created by people should be divided among those 
 people. But whether the change should come 
 through peaceful education or revolution, I felt 
 not ripe enough to decide. 
 
 In the warm spring nights, we would, both sitting 
 on the floor, discuss the social questions. I suffered 
 from sleeplessness the last few weeks, and Alice 
 would often sit up with me all through the night and 
 talk to me. Again she raised the question of my 
 taking up a course in a training school for or- 
 ganizers. The Women's Trade-Union League in 
 Chicago was about to open a school for organizers, 
 and she tried to persuade me to go to Chicago to 
 take up that course. But my enthusiasm for trade- 
 unionism had somewhat diminished lately. As my 
 friend Fannie once felt, so I now began to feel, 
 that its progress was very slow. Besides, my health 
 failed me, and that made it almost impossible for 
 me to study while I had to support myself mean- 
 time. 
 
 One Sunday evening my friend Alice asked me 
 if I would not like to hear Mother Jones, who had 
 
232 One of Them 
 
 recently returned from Colorado where the big min- 
 ers' strike was going on. I had heard about Mother 
 Jones so much. Mother Jones the Angel of the 
 Miners, as she was called is a woman of eighty- 
 two years of age. All her life long, she goes from 
 one State to the other where the coal industry pre- 
 vails, bringing light and courage to the unfortunate 
 coal miners who are made industrial serfs by the 
 mine magnates. 
 
 We went to that meeting. The hall was over- 
 crowded. In my mind I pictured the eighty-two- 
 years-old "Mother" as a tall, big, strong woman. 
 
 I stood, waiting impatiently. "Mother Jones" 
 the chairman announced and in walked an old, 
 old, bent lady, accompanied by two men on whose 
 arms she leaned. A deeply wrinkled face, a few 
 white hairs left on her head she showed her 
 eighty-two years. Slowly she walked over to the 
 platform. 
 
 It was very warm, the air was thick, which made 
 her breathing heavy. In a trembling, hardly au- 
 dible voice she began to talk. We were all very 
 silent, trying to catch i the words; but as she went 
 deeper into her subject her voice rose louder and 
 louder, the words came out clearer, the expression 
 forcible. The eighty-two-years-old lady had slowly 
 vanished. Before me stood a woman full of em- 
 bitterment against the powers which allowed her 
 children in West Virginia to be treated so brutally 
 
Mother Jones 233 
 
 years before, and in Colorado now a woman 
 filled with revenge against those who tortured her 
 "sons." Before me stood an agitator with enor- 
 mous power; a labor leader who carried the bright 
 future of the working-class. She hypnotized us. 
 She carried us with her to the fields of Colorado. 
 Here we saw the miners working in the dark, dan- 
 gerous caverns, where they risk their lives every 
 minute in the day, here are the miners out on 
 strike demanding human conditions, here are 
 the sheriffs and other guards who kill the strikers, 
 drive them out of the homes, destroy their prop- 
 erty, here are a number of tents where the 
 wives and children of the strikers were sheltered, 
 only to be burned in the fire following the conflict 
 between the state militia and the strikers. 
 
 "Me a weak woman of eighty-two years 
 they locked up in a cell, so that I should not be able 
 to stand and fight with my boys ! " (She calls all the 
 miners her boys.) " For days and days they kept 
 me in that dark, damp cell; for nine long days I had 
 to fight with the hungry rats! They thought that 
 a woman eighty-two years old would be too weak 
 to overcome it. They intended to weaken me that 
 way! But in those nine long days of starvation, in 
 those nine long days and sleepless nights, I grew 
 stronger; with more hate against the high-class 
 burglars, with more readiness to stand with my 
 boys and fight, fight to the last! 
 
234 One of Them 
 
 "Afterwards, when they released me, they or- 
 dered me out of the State. I protested, for who has 
 a right to send me out of a place where I lived for 
 eighty-two years? Of all the citizens I was the 
 oldest ! But again I was locked up for eleven days, 
 again they starved me, and after those eleven days, 
 they put me on a train and sent me out of the 
 State!" 
 
 As she spoke, I forgot that I was hearing all that 
 of "free America"! I found myself in Russia where 
 exactly the same brutality is practised! Dark, 
 autocratic Russia and light, free America ! There 
 the people are persecuted for free speech, they are 
 exiled to Siberia. What is here? Is it not the same, 
 only in a different form? 
 
 How I admired that little, old woman with so 
 much youthful spirit in her! How I admired her 
 courage! A woman of eighty-two years, and so 
 active so full of energy ! She seemed to have put 
 new courage into me. I felt more hopeful. She was 
 eighty-two, I was twenty-one; there was time 
 for me. I said to my friend Alice that night, as we 
 both lay sleepless, "I am going to try my strength 
 and ability." 
 
 "Hurrah!" she exclaimed, and we shook hands. 
 
 The next day we sat making our plans. We both 
 agreed that I must grow strong physically before I 
 began to do anything. We decided that I should go 
 to the country for a month and go to Chicago after- 
 
Thoughts of Home 235 
 
 wards. There I hoped to find work and attend the 
 school of the Women's Trade-Union League. For 
 that purpose Alice gave me fifty dollars. In a few 
 days we parted. She went back to Canada, and I 
 began to look for a reasonable country place. 
 
 It happened that a married sister of mine was to 
 come over from Russia to join her husband who 
 lived in Newark. I delayed my trip, waiting for her 
 to come. I looked forward to our meeting, thrilling 
 with a desire to see her, to hear some of the news 
 from home, that dear spot from which I had 
 been torn away for more than two years, to re- 
 call together with her, the sweet recollections of 
 my early unhappy yet happy life: my home that I 
 missed so much in the gray, monotonous, slack 
 days, when I paced the city from one end to the 
 other, searching vainly for work. In those days, 
 when tired, exhausted, half -starved, I would return 
 home, facing four narrow, lonely walls. In those 
 days, when I lay sick, burning with fever, lonely 
 and forsaken, oh! how I craved for my home, to 
 feel on my burning head my mother's soft hand as 
 a healing compress my father's gentle smile as a 
 balsam to my wounded heart. 
 
 I close my eyes, and I see my father the mild, 
 peaceful expression in his deep, gray eyes, a divine 
 smile resting on his lips hard life seemed insig- 
 nificant to him. 
 
 My mother her tired, nervous, always anxious, 
 
236 One of Them 
 
 often frowning, face, a pair of sorrowful black eyes, 
 sadly carrying the brunt of life. Of both their lives, 
 hers was the harder. From the time of her marriage 
 she hardly had a care-free day bearing children 
 every two years, she fought with the measles, scar- 
 let fever, typhoid fever, coughs and various other 
 colds; she fed them, she clothed them. She gave 
 life to thirteen children, of whom she buried four. 
 Knowledge, wisdom, for her children she placed 
 highest. I remember with what particular sweet- 
 ness she bent over a sleepless child. She would al- 
 ways sing the same famous old Jewish cradle-song 
 that so well symbolizes the love of the Jews for 
 knowledge and wisdom : 
 
 "A little, white goat stood under your cradle, 
 With raisins and nuts the goat went to peddle; 
 But you, my child, will study wisdom, 
 For knowledge is of all business best, 
 A pious, honest, and learned Jew 
 You shall forever last." l 
 
 She never saw a bright day until her children 
 grew up. And then Her oldest boy was in the 
 hated Russian army, another was in prison for 
 carrying the message of Freedom, three children 
 scattered in far-away America this was the re- 
 ward of her long years of struggle and hope for hap- 
 piness, that might have come through her children. 
 She waited patiently. She had strong faith in her 
 God. She believed in the Almighty. She prayed, 
 
 1 Translated from the Yiddish. 
 
Hardships in Russia 237 
 
 prayed all her life to him. And each new-coming 
 blow she took as the will of God. "So does God 
 want such is His wish. God will help God is 
 pitying." 
 
 But as the long years wore on, and life became 
 harder with no relief, a thought of suspicion would 
 often secretly creep into that pure heart. And the 
 tired-out God's martyr would repine and curse the 
 day that brought her into life. 
 
 I remember when my father was once boycotted 
 (he was boycotted twice in his life on account of 
 his liberal views on religion and education), he left 
 town to start a school somewhere else. My mother 
 was left penniless with seven children. Our house 
 caught fire one night, and was destroyed, all except 
 two rooms that served as a refuge until father was 
 brought back and we were able to rebuild it. 
 
 Though only five years old at that time, I clearly 
 remember how one late autumn night, a thunder- 
 storm broke out. Five of us children were sitting on 
 a sofa near the brick oven, hungry, shivering with 
 fright and cold. Mother and the two oldest children 
 were out. 
 
 The rain poured down, soaking the ceiling. 
 Pieces of plaster kept falling on us and on the 
 beds. Mother entered, her shawl dripping with 
 water. She gave a glance at the ceiling and at us 
 smeared with plaster, and she clasped her hands in 
 agony at the disaster. 
 
238 One of Them 
 
 Raising her eyes she cried out, "O Almighty, if 
 you can't make an end to this, make an end to my 
 life; take me away with all of them my innocent 
 1 birds." 
 
 It was wonderful how father, through such long 
 years of hardship, kept up his serenity. He must 
 have had iron nerves. I seldom remember him 
 without his peaceful smile, that smile that made 
 his pupils adore him. He was a born teacher. 
 
 In those days the Hebrew schools were kept open 
 from eight in the morning till eight in the evening. 
 Children from the age of seven were kept in school 
 for such long hours, and made to study hard. 
 Bright children of nine and ten were taught the 
 Talmud. It was absolutely reckless for such young, 
 delicate brains to deal with the seriousness of the 
 Talmud, and my father opposed the custom, but 
 with no success. There was no break in the studies 
 except for their dinner. I remember those poor 
 young creatures those thin, pale-faced, tired 
 scholars of such a tender age. My father had long 
 realized that such a system was ruinous to the 
 health of the children. He tried to induce the other 
 schoolmasters to introduce games and songs and 
 cited for argument the blooming health of the chil- 
 dren in the Russian public schools. But he was 
 only laughed at. 
 
 The orthodox Jews of our town at that time 
 declared him a sinner. Jewish children were to 
 
My Father's School 239 
 
 be taught the Torah, but no games, no songs. My 
 father, however, began to introduce games into 
 his own school. I remember with what impatient, 
 gleaming eyes those little animals awaited the play- 
 hour. When in the afternoon their big, old "rabi" 
 would leave his "cathedra," they all surrounded 
 him and played and sang together. But their 
 happiness soon ended. 
 
 One morning leaflets were hung up in the syna- 
 gogue announcing that father was leading the chil- 
 dren to sin that instead of teaching the Torah, 
 he is spending his time in play. And my father was 
 boycotted. But a year later the town realized that 
 his methods were essential. They realized what 
 effect the play had on the children, and they sent 
 for him. They brought him back with honor 
 and, bless his heart, he is still engaged in teaching 
 and playing with his pupils mostly beginners. 
 
 He still spends his evenings in thinking of newer 
 reforms for the Hebrew beginners' school. He is 
 an artist in dealing with beginners, and they adore 
 him. He is even known among the very small chil- 
 dren who never saw him. A mother in our town 
 could rule the most mischievous child by warning 
 him that he would not be sent to my father's school 
 unless he behaved. 
 
 The meeting with my sister was far from being 
 happy. She did not expect to find me so thin and 
 
240 One of Them 
 
 worn out. She felt hurt and disappointed. I tried 
 to be cheerful and happy. 
 
 "Now, you are going to stay with me, and let me 
 look after you ; for I promised mother to keep you 
 with us. She wants us all to be together, and take 
 care of one another," she begged me. "Mother has 
 grown very old since you left; also father has turned 
 gray. They could not get accustomed to it for a 
 long, long time. You were the first one to make the 
 break, and little by little four of us have strayed 
 away from home. Israel is in the army and at 
 that once long, overcrowded table, only four small 
 children are left. 
 
 "All week long father and mother are busy 
 but the Sabbath meal oh, that is a very miser- 
 able hour for mother. She misses us greatly. The 
 empty chairs make the room so gloomy, and 
 mother never ceases to cry. She always places your 
 photograph near her at the table." 
 
 Oh, my mother, if I were only able to repay you 
 for your noble sacrifices, for all the injustice we did 
 to you by running away to look for our own hap- 
 piness. You saint soul! I would give my life to 
 make you happy, to make your hopes, your dreams 
 come true. But mother's happiness is her chil- 
 dren's happiness. What must I do to be happy for 
 her sake? What must I do to outgrow misery? 
 
 To stay with my sister, I had to play the game 
 of contentment, and that I could not very often do. 
 
A Deceptive Gift 241 
 
 For my mother's sake, I had to hide from her my 
 financial nakedness; and to make her believe that 
 nothing was wrong with me, I bought her a present 
 for ten dollars, never telling her that they were bor- 
 rowed. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 A WEEK later I was off to a farm near Prince- 
 ton, the farmer's family being my country 
 people. 
 
 For the first time since I left my home, I saw the 
 country again. With bewildered, hungry eyes, I 
 stood there the first morning, looking around me. 
 My heart thrilled with joy, when, after so many, 
 many months of sickening city life, I again faced 
 those spacious green fields. 
 
 The sun was widely spread over the horizon; hun- 
 dreds of birds were singing and twittering their 
 morning songs, flying from one place to another; 
 tiny little chicks ran around in the yard, digging 
 their beaks into the soft ground, searching for 
 worms. There were cherry trees loaded with ripe 
 white cherries. The grass spread a fresh, dewy 
 fragrance, and everything around was full of life, 
 fresh life, real life ! 
 
 I did not know what to do. I began to jump 
 around singing and whistling in accord with the 
 birds. I felt happy. I forgot that only yesterday 
 I came from the city. It seemed as if I was born 
 here, and grew up among these trees, these spacious 
 fields, these clear skies. 
 
 After breakfast I and a few other girls, who were 
 
In the Country 243 
 
 also spending their vacation here, went to the near- 
 by canal, that cut through the woods. Deep in the 
 shade of magnificent old oaks, majestically spread- 
 ing their branches over the water, where the restful 
 shade mingled with the golden sunrays; there the 
 canal was hidden, protected on the other side by a 
 young, leafy grove. 
 
 Glowing days, wonderful days followed ! We had 
 a rowboat, fishing-lines all we wanted for our 
 enjoyment. Away from civilization, from artificial- 
 ity, we ran around all day in our loose bathing- 
 suits, singing merrily, jumping around like wild 
 goats. We were free, we belonged to ourselves, and 
 we enjoyed it immensely ! 
 
 Very often, when I grew tired of running around, 
 I would hide myself in the deep shadows under a 
 tree, and lie there for hours and hours, wrapped in 
 illusions, lulled by the quiet rustling of the grass 
 and gentle zephyr winds in the trees. The leaves 
 would sway and bend to each other as if for a kiss, 
 the grass would flutter and its sweet murmurs 
 would fill my heart with deep, mysterious feelings. 
 I understood its whispers it murmured of Na- 
 ture's might, of its constant activity, of the summer 
 to go, and summer to come of eternal life of 
 love happy romance 
 
 From time to time a busy bee passed, buzzing 
 around, or a bird singing, its flute-like voice melting 
 into quaverings, would stop to rest on a branch. 
 
244 One of Them 
 
 How wonderful it was to lie there, lulled by those 
 sweet sounds, embraced by nature, and dream 
 dream of happiness and love 
 
 Yes, love Who, at twenty-one, when from 
 the youthful blossom the woman is rapidly awak- 
 ening, when the heart is bubbling over with emo- 
 tions, the soul wrapped in dreams, does not se- 
 cretly crave for a sympathetic some one? For some 
 one who understands and loves? Who at that age 
 does not crave for a mate to go hand in hand 
 into life's path, to share its burdens, to share its 
 pleasure? 
 
 In the city where the burden of existence weighed 
 heavily on me, where day in and day out I lived in 
 the ugly reality of poverty, where before me passed, 
 back and forth, the down-trodden, cursed human- 
 ity, I had little thought for love. I was wrapped in 
 misery, ugly misery! 
 
 Here, in the quiet, wavy grass, in the peaceful- 
 ness of open nature, my heart began to long, my 
 heart craved for a mate, to go hand in hand against 
 misfortune, to fight against untruthfulness, to rise 
 together to the heights, away, away from this hate- 
 ful, toiling world, where the noblest callings are 
 crushed under the exploiting capitalistic hammer, 
 where humanity and love are turned into dollars 
 
 As time passed and my vacation drew near its 
 close, I grew more thoughtful. Another week and I 
 
Country Freedom 245 
 
 would be back in the noise, back in the dirty, air- 
 less dwellings, back to the mish-mash that is called 
 " civilization." Oh, how I hated it, how I hated this 
 present kind of civilization! 
 
 The other girls also began to get ready for the 
 city. I had not paid much attention to them until 
 now. Making my own meals for economy's sake, 
 while they boarded, I seldom sat at the same table 
 with them. On the days when there were guests to 
 spend the week-ends, the other girls would dress up 
 in their best, while I climbed a cherry or apple tree, 
 and sitting on a branch, would read undisturbed. 
 They thought it very bad manners; they also 
 thought it was bad manners when I, believing my- 
 self the best chaperon, would go off fishing alone 
 with the farmer boys. 
 
 Now that I thought more of the city, I became 
 more interested in the girls, for their faces also ex- 
 pressed regret to leave the full freedom of the coun- 
 try that they had so much enjoyed for a short time. 
 
 Our conversation began unexpectedly. It was 
 late one night a wonderful July night when the 
 moon appears in its full charm, illuminating the 
 sleeping world. In such a night of quiet peaceful- 
 ness, full of mysterious charm, when the heart 
 beats with thirst for life, for love, for sympathy, 
 when the soul is deeply sunk in melancholy, and 
 the mind is wholly submitted to the sentimental 
 heart's desires, I lay in my bed sleepless. In vain 
 
246 One of Them 
 
 did I try to fall asleep that wonderful night lured 
 me to the garden, where the flowers covered with 
 night-dew shed such an intoxicating fragrance. 
 Slipping a gown on, I went out. It was light as 
 midday. The trees of the near-by forests threw 
 gigantic shadows over the fields, making the night 
 more mysterious. A feeling of loneliness crept into 
 my heart. The quietness frightened me. On such 
 a night the lonely heart seeks for another heart to 
 be near to walk silently together through the 
 field, bathed in moonlight, to walk into the wide 
 farness, and to dream dream of freedom and 
 love of perfection, of harmony in this world. 
 
 Back and forth over the small garden path I 
 walked, until, tired, I went to the front porch to 
 rest. 
 
 There, wrapped in blankets, their eyes wide open, 
 looking wistfully at the moon, the three girls lay 
 silently stretched on the floor. I joined them. They 
 were all affected by the moon's glory. They too 
 were melancholy. For a long time, we were all 
 silent, until, at last, I broke the silence. 
 
 "Well, girls, I think it is good-bye soon, is it 
 not?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," reluctantly one assented with a deep 
 sigh. 
 
 "To think that we got to work like horses all the 
 year round, and prepare and save up money just 
 to have enough for two or three weeks' vacation, 
 
Working-Girls' Hopes 247 
 
 and when the vacation at last comes, the time runs 
 so quickly that before you get time to look around, 
 there! you must go back to work," complained 
 another girl. 
 
 Poor creature, she just expressed what many of 
 the girls felt; she was only one of them, one of the 
 many who laboriously bent their heads over the 
 machines, struggling hard, turning their health into 
 scanty earnings, saving from anything and every- 
 thing, in order to go off to the country for two or 
 three weeks in the summer; and while some of them 
 do it intelligently, they go to the country for a 
 rest, for all the natural things that the country can 
 give them, a great many spend weeks of exciting 
 preparations. They deprive themselves of regular 
 meals in order to save enough for a more expensive 
 boarding-house. For weeks ahead they sit up late 
 into the night making dresses, petticoats, and 
 other useless cheap fineries; for they must appear 
 "swell" at those expensive country homes. And, 
 who knows? Fate may bring them together with 
 a decent fellow in an expensive boarding-house; 
 and there are chances of marrying and getting rid 
 of the hated shop and eternal anxiety for a living. 
 So the long, exhausting deprivations, the invest- 
 ment in good clothes, may after all prove profit- 
 able. 
 
*> 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 MY vacation was to end. What a wonderful 
 change this month of country life had 
 made in me. With hidden joy I saw in the mirror 
 that my face, once more rounded out, had gained 
 its freshness; my eyes again were bright and shiny. 
 
 I arrived in New York with stored-up strength 
 and vigor, ready to take life up anew. I had been 
 so wrapt. in my own self the past month, so in- 
 different to everything else, that I had not even 
 cared to read the newspaper, and, of course, was 
 ignorant of the burning news that so suddenly 
 inflamed the world; and, oh! the horror of the news 
 of the European war broke over me like a thun- 
 der storm. It was unimaginable! How could it be 
 possible for civilized people of the twentieth cen- 
 tury the children of Christ to engage in 
 bloodshed; bringing shame and destruction upon 
 humanity; the commandment "Love thy neigh- 
 bor" interpreted with guns, shells, and powder. 
 Why fight, what for? and what will this war bring 
 to me? 
 
 And it brought to me As my mind was swal- 
 lowed in the whirlpool of those chaotic days, a letter 
 from my parents came to me. Father wrote to me: 
 "Our Hebrew schools are nearly empty, for the 
 
War News from Eussia 249 
 
 fathers who paid for their children's education were 
 taken to war. Yotir brother is being sent to the 
 front. Nathan, who is such a youth, is being re- 
 served. A fine was imposed on me for Sam, because 
 he failed to appear in answer to the military call. 
 I am not able to pay the fine, so the police have 
 taken away from the house any article they think 
 valuable. We can do nothing but pray to God 
 that He should calm His fury. Mother and I are 
 grateful to God that you and Sam and the others 
 are now in America in a free, blessed country 
 where there are no tzars and kings to shed people's 
 blood. We don't know what will happen to us next, 
 for every day there is something new to disturb us. 
 We have aged twenty years during this past month, 
 and I fear we shall face starvation before long." 
 
 The terror raging at home showered over my 
 head, throwing me into a frenzy. What would be- 
 come of my family? What will happen to them in 
 the near future? How shall we be able to overcome 
 all that? Oh! heaven and earth, calm thy fury! 
 
 My brother taken to war to fight for "his coun- \/ 
 try," to fight for a hated country that deprived 
 nearly seven millions of his brothers of all possible 
 freedom, a country that threw them together into 
 a cursed pale, and tried to deaden and enchain their 
 brains, their most beautiful instincts, their artistic 
 abilities. He was sent to fight for a country that 
 rejected all of his applications ever to enter an 
 
250 One of Them 
 
 educational institution. His highest ambition was 
 to enter a school of fine arts, and he really showed 
 great promise through the little portraits he would 
 paint while still very young. But as a Jew, and, 
 still more, as a penniless one, he never realized his 
 ambition. 
 
 When only seventeen years of age, he was once 
 taken prisoner in a midnight assailment, that 
 was so often practised by the police on peacefully 
 sleeping homes, and was kept prisoner for three 
 months, then sent out from Odessa as prisoner es- 
 corted by gendarmes until he reached home. He 
 was forever forbidden to be seen anywhere except 
 in his home town. But my brother refused to be 
 limited, and the police soon found him either in 
 Kiev or Odessa, and arrest after arrest followed. 
 
 And after all this persecution, they sent him to 
 fight and kill whom? Perhaps another strug- 
 gling Jew from Germany, a Jew from Austria, from 
 Galicia! He was sent to kill people perhaps of his 
 own race. But who are the others? The German, 
 the Russian, the French, the Austrian, and all the 
 other soldiers? If they are not of his race, they 
 belong to his class to the class of strugglers who 
 toil and starve in time of peace and whose flesh 
 will now carelessly rot in the muddy trenches. 
 
 All my cherished plans for the present had to be 
 given up. I had hoped to go to Chicago, and take 
 
The Burden of War 251 
 
 up the course in the training school of the Women's 
 Trade-Union League, but anxiety for my people at 
 home compelled me to submit to circumstances. 
 I had to remain in New York and get work imme- 
 diately, so as to help them out until that madness 
 was over. I felt so sure that the war would not 
 last long. I cherished a blind hope that the people 
 would not stand for it; that they would end the 
 war in three or four months. 
 
 The war had upset our industry. The season is 
 usually in full swing in the middle of August, but 
 things seemed very uncertain at that time, and 
 a great many manufacturers were afraid to start. 
 The result was that thousands of girls and men 
 were walking around anxiously searching for work. 
 Upon them, also, fell the burden of war. Their 
 families in the war countries were actually ruined, 
 especially in Poland and Lithuania, where they 
 were driven from their homes by the Russians 
 even before the enemy came. Their properties 
 were destroyed and the people scattered. The poor 
 girls ran around as if in a frenzy from the heart- 
 breaking news, but were unable to help their un- 
 fortunate parents. 
 
 I returned to my last season's shop with a pre- 
 sentiment that trouble was brewing; which later 
 proved to be true. 
 
 It had fallen to my lot to become chairlady for 
 the next season. As I had not interfered in the shop 
 
252 One of Them 
 
 occurrences before, I was not known to my boss, 
 so that my election surprised him. He did not, 
 however, take me very seriously to quote his 
 own language, I was a "mere slip of a girl," and 
 could easily be managed. In fact, judging from 
 my appearance, every one at first took me for a 
 little girl. 
 
 Two weeks passed by very peacefully. The boss 
 said that he liked my method in representing the 
 people, and we settled a great many things agree- 
 ably. But when I started to find out what was the 
 matter with the test, that it always came out be- 
 low the price that the workers demanded, then my 
 troubles began. It very often took us a whole day 
 to bargain with the boss before we could finally 
 come to a satisfactory agreement, and besides 
 prices, there were a great many other things to 
 attend to. 
 
 There were nearly two hundred workers divided 
 into different branches as operators, finishers, 
 examiners, ironers, cleaners, lace-cutters, hem- 
 stitchers. Each branch had to be carefully looked 
 after. A complaint now came from an ironer who 
 did not receive the scale, now a girl came late and 
 she was sent away, now a girl was discharged for 
 spoiling something unintentionally. 
 
 I, as shop representative, had to take up every 
 grievance with the boss. If I failed to settle the 
 matter, I had to report and complain to the union. 
 
Appeals for Help 253 
 
 All that required a great deal of time, and I was too 
 often distracted from my machine. In the busiest 
 weeks, when the workers were making more money, 
 I was kept busy straightening out difficulties for 
 them. Thus, performing my duty as shop repre- 
 sentative, I neglected my duty to myself. The 
 result was that my pay envelope suffered great 
 financial deficit. And here came letters from home, 
 each more distressing than the other. Each word 
 in the letters rose as a cry for help, for support, and 
 it nearly drove me insane. My father's home was 
 assailed frequently. Things that could be of use 
 only to my parents and the children were taken 
 away by the police a punishment for my broth- 
 er's failure to appear for military service. 
 
 The Government was slowly ruining my parents' 
 home. That humble nest that was created through 
 so many, many years of struggle and hardship in 
 that cursed home of bondage! What was I to do? 
 Neglect the shop? Then we should all suffer. No. 
 I was determined to have order in the shop, to get 
 everything that was coming to the workers accord- 
 ing to the agreement, to encourage, to show the 
 workers the value of organization and the strength 
 of unity. 
 
 Our General Organization Committee had its 
 hands full that season. A great number of manu- 
 facturers broke their agreements with the union. 
 Some of them moved their factories away to 
 
* 
 
 254 One of Them 
 
 Brooklyn, Newark, Jersey City, and Hoboken. 
 They found there cheap country help, and intro- 
 duced the section system by which it was easy to 
 train inexperienced workers and pay them the 
 smallest possible wages, leaving the New York or- 
 ganized workers without positions. 
 
 Those manufacturers, who only a year and a half 
 ago had pledged themselves, by creating the "Pro- 
 tocol of Peace" and individual agreements, to 
 recognize organized labor, and, together with the 
 union, raise the standards in the industry those 
 very same people took advantage at the first op- 
 portunity to overthrow organized labor, to act in 
 their shops as autocrats, and to ignore the worker's 
 wishes and rights. 
 
 We worked very hard to organize those shops. 
 Early in the mornings and in the evenings we 
 a committee of three and four would go off to 
 such shops and watch the workers at the entrance, 
 to speak and appeal to them. In a great many 
 places we succeeded; in some we were only laughed 
 at; in others we were arrested for speaking to those 
 unorganized workers. 
 
 I remember we once went to Brooklyn to picket 
 a shop at seven in the morning. We found three 
 officers and a half-dozen strangers on the spot. As 
 soon as a worker appeared in sight, before we had 
 time to reach her, some one of those boys would 
 get ahead of us, and triumphantly bring her into 
 
Picketing in Brooklyn 255 
 
 the shop under his protection. We were warned by 
 some of them to keep away if we wanted to pre- 
 serve our heads. 
 
 "A black eye or broken head is an easy matter 
 with me, so you better keep away from here," said 
 one, when I approached two girls whom he es- 
 corted. 
 
 "Listen to me, boy, I just want to ask you a 
 question: If your mother or sister were working in 
 the shop, and if they were out on strike to better 
 their life, would you fight them for it? Don't you 
 see that we mean no harm? We want to speak to 
 the girls, to explain to them that they took away 
 the positions from over a hundred girls who were 
 on strike in New York." 
 
 But he would not listen. 
 
 "Hey, what do I care? This is my business; 
 I am paid for it, just as you are paid for your 
 work. I make a living out of it. If you would pay 
 me, I would stand with you. Now, keep away, I 
 say." 
 
 "Is it right to make a living this way? To club 
 girls' heads?" I went on stubbornly. But he would 
 not listen to me. 
 
 Another boy reached us he was only a youth 
 with books under his arm. He was a high-school 
 boy, and he, too, made his spending money through 
 breaking strikes, before and after school. He was 
 so young and had such a blooming, handsome face 
 
256 One of Them 
 
 one could hardly believe he already belongs to an 
 underworld gang. 
 
 "Listen, young fellow, are you taught this kind 
 of profession in school? I shall follow you to school 
 and ask your principal if he knows what you are 
 doing outside of school," I said to him when he 
 pushed one of the pickets from the sidewalk. 
 
 "And I'll cut your short legs before you make 
 an attempt to do it," he replied triumphantly. 
 
 "Let her try, and she'll never forget it," said 
 another. 
 
 I really wanted to follow that boy to school, but 
 I knew what I'd be apt to get, for those boys usu- 
 ally carry out their threats. I recalled that during 
 the past two weeks some of our girls had been 
 beaten by those hired gangsters, and I had no 
 desire to have my face bruised. 
 
 The officers separated us in order to avoid 
 trouble. They treated us rather fairly. One police- 
 man called some of us aside, giving us advice. 
 
 "Now, girls, you know I sympathize with you, 
 and know what you are here for, but I can't help 
 it. I, as an officer, must see that order prevails. 
 You just don't stand in one place, but walk back 
 and forth on the sidewalk. Speak to the girls while 
 walking. Don't stop them, and if that gang bothers 
 you, I shall show them where to land." 
 
 I was astonished at such talk from an officer. My 
 bitter experiences with policemen in former strikes 
 
Policemen and Strikers 257 
 
 had made me despise them. They very often 
 worked hand in hand with the strike-breakers 
 hired by the employers. While our strikers would 
 peacefully picket the shop, those guards would 
 often make riots, start fights, and in the riots the 
 policemen would arrest innocent strikers, accusing 
 them of making the riot. 
 
 It did happen sometimes that strikers in despera- 
 tion made a riot, but our union strongly forbade 
 and severely warned them against such action. We 
 were always instructed to picket peacefully; but 
 peaceful as we tried to be, we were driven by the 
 policemen from the sidewalks. When I once refused 
 to leave my post, for I had done nothing against the 
 law, the officer unceremoniously pushed me down. 
 
 I stood up again, and argued with him, explain- 
 ing that I knew what I was allowed to do and what 
 I might not do, but he cut me short. 
 
 "Hey! I'm telling you to keep away from here if 
 you don't want to be locked up you fresh thing ! " 
 
 "I know you can lock me up for no reason, just as 
 you did a great many of the girls," said I calmly, 
 still keeping my place. 
 
 Again he pushed me down, lightly striking me 
 with his club. 
 
 I felt just a little pain in my shoulder, but my 
 tears began to flow just the same, because I felt 
 hurt, not physically, but for being clubbed for no 
 reason at all. 
 
258 One of Them 
 
 " You heartless brute ! " I murmured through my 
 tears. 
 
 "Run along now, run along, unless you want to 
 be arrested," he said gruffly. 
 
 I had no desire to be locked up, for I had my 
 duties in the shop. There were a great number of 
 new styles to be settled, and the workers were wait- 
 ing for me, so I ran along leaving the policeman 
 victor. 
 
 The sympathy shown to us by the three officers 
 in Brooklyn made me forget all the grudges I had 
 against police officers. They allowed us to picket, 
 and did not interfere when we spoke to the girls at 
 the entrance. They also watched the gangsters to 
 see that they did not start a fight. 
 
 I had no time to breathe those days. From seven 
 to eight-thirty in the morning I was picketing un- 
 organized shops; from eight- thirty to five, I worked 
 in my shop; at five-thirty I was again picketing 
 shops, and at seven in the evening I was at the 
 union office to report various important matters 
 occurring through the day. 
 
 As I once mentioned, the commercial unrest at 
 that time caused a crisis in our industry, and the 
 workers more than the manufacturers suffered by 
 it. Only a very few manufacturers had work for a 
 few weeks. Among them was our firm. The latter 
 soon took advantage of the slack period. They 
 knew that hundreds of workers were eagerly look- 
 
A Scheme for Cheap Labor 259 
 
 ing for work, and, hoping to get cheap labor, they 
 opened a new shop. 
 
 The new shop consisted of over a hundred work- 
 ers, and we immediately realized what it meant to 
 us. Our work was being shifted to the other shop, 
 and we began to sit idle most of our time, as there 
 was not enough business for two shops. I had no 
 objection to sharing the work with the other girls 
 who needed it as much as any of us, but I feared 
 that they might accept a lower wage, thus becom- 
 ing our competitors. 
 
 I had no doubt that the boss purposely opened 
 that shop to get his work cheaper, or else he would 
 not have gone into extra expenses when there was 
 work enough for one shop only. 
 
 Fortunately enough for us, the girls of the* other 
 shop proved to be conscious of our employer's 
 scheme. They were a true collection of workers 
 thrown out from various shops for their union ac- 
 tivity, and, as such, they were harmless to us. They 
 also selected a chairlady and a price committee, 
 who immediately communicated with us, and we 
 demanded from our boss that the same prices for 
 the same garments should be paid in both shops. 
 We refused to deal separately. Our boss accused 
 me of being the responsible person in the shop 
 for disturbing their daily routine and causing them 
 trouble. He claimed that we had no right to in- 
 terfere with the other shop. But my answer to him 
 
260 One of Them 
 
 was that if he opened a shop for the purpose of tak- 
 ing away our work, so as to compel us to accept 
 cheaper prices, we had a full right to protest against 
 such unjust action and prevent him from taking 
 advantage of us. 
 
 To prevent our working jointly, my boss tried to 
 bribe the workers in the other shop, offering them a 
 bigger price on certain garments, if they would only 
 not communicate with us, but the workers refused. 
 We demanded the same treatment and system in 
 both shops as long as they belonged to one firm and 
 the same work was done. 
 
 Our higher bosses raged at me, thinking that it 
 was only I who was responsible for those demands. 
 But I was the shop representative, and spoke not 
 only for myself. I expressed the wish of all the 
 workers in my shop. Still they treated me worse 
 than the others. They tried to rid themselves of 
 me, thinking that with me out of the way, they 
 would accomplish their task, and at the first oppor- 
 tunity I was fired. But I was taken back the same 
 day, for as soon as I took my hat ready to leave the 
 shop, the rush, the noise of the machines, suddenly 
 stopped. Everything came to a standstill. Over 
 two hundred workers folded their hands, quietly 
 protesting against the firm's action. They refused 
 to resume work until their shop delegate returned 
 and I was taken back the same day. I met the 
 committee of the other shop every day, and we 
 
Cooperation of Workers 261 
 
 succeeded in working jointly in spite of the oppo- 
 sition on the part of our boss. He made it harder 
 for us from day to day. Times were very bad for 
 the manufacturers, so they made them still worse for 
 the workers. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 AS their efforts for getting cheap labor proved 
 a failure, my bosses decided to close up the 
 new shop. We were now confronted with a new and 
 very serious problem. I knew it Would be useless to 
 urge my boss to keep up that new shop when rent 
 was so high, power expensive, and all the work 
 there was could easily be made in one shop. Now 
 those girls who so sympathetically cooperated with 
 us would lose their jobs in the midst of the dull 
 season. I shuddered with fear. I knew what it 
 would mean to them to wander around in search 
 of work when the next season was ten weeks ahead. 
 Why should they be thrown out, why should they 
 have to suffer? Our duty was to share to the last 
 with them. I held a council for that purpose with 
 a committee from the other shop, and we resolved 
 to suggest to our boss that as soon as he closed up 
 that shop he should allow us to divide the work 
 equally with the girls who had been working there; 
 that is, three days for us and three days for the 
 others, so that while we stayed out, the other girls 
 would use our machines, and there would be no 
 extra expense to the boss. We would so share our 
 work until the slack season was over, when those 
 girls could find other jobs. 
 
Competing Workers 263 
 
 To my great delight, the boss consented to our 
 plan, and I immediately called a meeting of both 
 shops to inform them of the good news and make 
 preparations for the change. But, oh, how great 
 was my astonishment, how deeply hurt and disap- 
 pointed I felt, when the workers of my shop, with 
 only a few exceptions, refused to share the work 
 with the others. 
 
 "Friends," I exclaimed in great excitement, "I 
 am shocked, deeply shocked at your refusal. You 
 all know what has been going on this season, due 
 to the outbreak of this war that caused a panic in 
 our trade, but more due to the ignorance of so many 
 workers in our industry who refuse to join our 
 ranks, who do not realize the value of organization 
 for themselves. They are living below human 
 standards; they slave for practically no wages; and 
 moreover, they are competing with us organized 
 workers when we so desperately are trying to better 
 our bitter lot. It is due to them that we have so 
 much trouble in our shop, on which our daily exist- 
 ence depends. 
 
 "Our bosses are keeping shops for no ideals, but 
 for business ! Their anxiety is concentrated, not on 
 giving employment to workers, but on the amount 
 of profit they can clear from their workers; for one 
 more nickel on a garment we sometimes bargain 
 away a whole morning. That is also due to those 
 unorganized workers in other shops who accept a 
 
1/ 
 
 264 One of Them 
 
 cheaper price, who work longer hours. I do not 
 want to condemn those workers. I know they often 
 repine of their bitter fate. They also would like 
 decent homes, decent clothes, shorter working 
 hours, and to live like human beings, but they are 
 ignorant, they do not know how to change their 
 hard existence. They blindly hope for miracles to 
 happen and lighten their burden., 
 
 "But our miracle is in our unity. In our shop I 
 fought very hard for every bit we were to get. And 
 we averted a lot of trouble because we stood united. 
 I have proved to you that only through unity can 
 we help ourselves, but not unity among workers in 
 only one shop. We must be united with all the 
 workers in all the shops throughout the industry. 
 We must help one another to the last. 
 
 "When our boss opened up that new shop, he 
 hoped to get cheap help, and if he only succeeded, 
 he would close up our shop and rid himself of all of 
 us, for it pays him better to keep workers who are 
 afraid to contradict him. But fortunately for us, 
 the girls proved to be sympathetic. They treated us 
 with sisterly interest. We united, and they helped 
 us to right to preserve our standards. Now, when 
 even the boss permits us to share the work, will you 
 refuse? Have you a right to refuse those who 
 helped you? Will you let those girls go now, in the 
 midst of the slack season? Did not any of you here 
 ever experience a slack season and taste its bitter- 
 
To Share or Not to Share 265 
 
 ness? I tell you again and again that it is our duty, 
 our human duty, to share our work until they are 
 able to find other jobs!" 
 
 There was a short silence. A dark-eyed young 
 girl stood up asking for permission to talk. 
 
 "The chairlady, upon my word, made a very 
 good speech, but we ain't goin' to make a livin' on 
 speeches. We did n't had much work this season, 
 and since that shop opened, we ain't got a stitch o' 
 work. Don't we need to make a livin' too? We did 
 not make much of a livin' this season. There ain't 
 enough work for all of us, and we can't help them. 
 We are sorry for the girls, but it ain't our fault that 
 the boss opened a shop." 
 
 "Dat's right! Dat's right!" the girls shouted 
 from all around in different dialects. "We got no 
 work ourselves; we can't give them three days of 
 our week. We don't make enough for our board 
 these days!" 
 
 When the noise subsided, another girl stood up, 
 a tall, pale-faced, very neat-looking person. 
 
 "What I want to ask you is this " she turned 
 to the last speaker. "What if the boss did not close 
 that shop? Would there be more work? He closed 
 it for his benefit, not for yours. How would you 
 like to stay out of a job? What I say is this we 
 should divide as much work as there is among all 
 of us. It is not fair, it is selfish to think only of 
 yourself in such bad times. I make a motion to take 
 
266 One of Them 
 
 it to a vote, and any girl who has any common sense 
 and any feelings will vote right!" 
 
 All that time the girls of the other shop were 
 sitting quietly in one corner, restlessly waiting for 
 the decision. Their faces turned pale when the first 
 girl began to speak. Now they were looking up 
 disgustedly, waiting for the vote to be over. 
 
 "Let's have a secret vote," some one suggested. 
 
 "Why, are you ashamed to say 'no' in the open?" 
 a girl of the other shop inquired sarcastically. 
 
 "A secret vote, a secret vote," a few more sug- 
 gested. 
 
 But I refused them. 
 
 "You shall not have the closed vote. If you are 
 not ashamed to act against those girls, you shall not 
 be ashamed to do so in their presence. I want you 
 to think it over for a few minutes. Don't do to 
 others what you would not like them to do to you. 
 
 "Now, all who are in favor of having the other 
 shop with us, please raise your hands." 
 
 My heart slowly went down, when hands went 
 up. I counted. Sixteen hands, while there were 
 over a hundred girls. 
 
 "Against," I stammered. Up went hands, many, 
 many hands. It seemed to me they were uncon- 
 sciously destroying something so very dear, some- 
 thing so very noble, something which thousands 
 of workers are bitterly fighting for, are sacrificing 
 their lives for, Unity, Equality, and Justice! 
 
A Selfish Decision 267 
 
 I sank in my chair full of embitterment. I felt 
 as if they had pronounced a verdict of "starva- 
 tion" upon those girls, and I felt ashamed, ashamed 
 to look up at them. 
 
 "Am I allowed to say something?" came a voice 
 from the corner, and up rose a worker of the other 
 shop a girl of about twenty-seven, with big, 
 deep-blue, round eyes, hollow cheeks, nicely shaped 
 but bloodless lips, a well-formed nose, and above 
 all, a wealth of beautiful blonde hair, which framed 
 her delicate and one-time beautiful face. She was 
 on the committee and I knew her well. I was very 
 much interested in her. She was only twenty-seven, 
 and everybody spoke of her as of a passed beauty, 
 as if she were forty. I often thought of her, and 
 through my own experiences I well imagined what 
 a hard life she must have had being a shopgirl, 
 when, with all her heart and soul, she protested 
 against the exploitation of the miserable wage- 
 earners. 
 
 "You have the floor now," I said. 
 
 "Chairlady and dear friends " she pronounced 
 the last words sarcastically, "I did not want to 
 speak before you gave out your decision, so as not 
 to sway your mind. I wanted you to act with your 
 own clear conscience. Now, when all is over, allow 
 me to tell you something: I'm nine years in this 
 country, nine years in the same trade, and for nine 
 years I had not one happy day. Few of you know 
 
268 One of Them 
 
 what a shop of eight or nine years ago was like; few 
 of you here remember how we worked at that time: 
 sixty and seventy hours a week in sweat-shops 
 sweat-shops worse than hell! For nine long years 
 I fought against such hell; for all these miserable 
 years, I, together with so many others, went on agi- 
 tating, explaining in what hell we lived. We wanted 
 to live like human beings; we wanted to be treated 
 like human beings; we wanted to be united, to be 
 on friendly terms, to work in solidarity, for sol- 
 idarity, my friends, was at that time a thing un- 
 imaginable. 
 
 "In need of money, the workers would hunt for a 
 bigger share of work, often bribing the foreman of 
 the place, or any one who had charge of giving out 
 work. In smaller places, where the boss himself 
 took charge, they worked for less than the others, 
 in order to get more work. One competed against 
 another, and each considered the other an enemy. 
 And we, for organizing the workers, were fired from 
 the shops, and it took us weeks until we were able 
 to find other jobs, only to be thrown out again in 
 a short time. A great many of us were black-listed, 
 and were not able to find jobs at all. We have suf- 
 fered suffered with the hope that we will gain in 
 the end. That was nine, six, and even four years 
 ago. 
 
 " Now, when we have a union of nearly two thirds 
 of the industry, when we have a so-called ' Protocol 
 
The Danger of Indifference 269 
 
 of Peace - and other agreements with the bosses to 
 protect the workers, we the active, loyal union 
 members are not much better off. We are still 
 thrown from the shops. < 
 
 "True, the bosses are not as free to fire us as they 
 were a few years ago, but they are applying all sorts 
 of schemes to get rid of the active members. The 
 first year after the last strike, conditions were all 
 right. The workers were enthusiastic, and the em- 
 ployers saw that they dealt with united people, but 
 little by little, the workers cooled off. They thought 
 that by having the protocol they would be pro- 
 tected, and ceased paying their dues, ceased to at- 
 tend shop meetings, where they could get fresh 
 impressions. They ceased to take part in the shop 
 activities. They left everything to one chairlady. 
 The employers soon noticed their indifference and 
 took advantage of it they began to cut down 
 prices, violate minimum scales, violate hours of 
 labor as in the 'good old times.' The active mem- 
 bers protested, and their lives were made mis- 
 erable. 
 
 "Ask any one of us here, and she'll tell where 
 she came from. One lost her job for being on the 
 price committee; another for being chairlady; still 
 others lost their jobs because their firm closed up 
 the shop, giving out the work to contractors who 
 get cheap help. This season, that has been so bad 
 for the entire industry, affected us the worst. For 
 
270 One of Them 
 
 the last four months, we had no more than six 
 weeks of work, and mostly all of us have to support 
 families. Some must help their families who were 
 the first war sufferers. We went into debt, with no 
 idea when we would be able to repay. What are we 
 to do now? We know that you also earned very 
 little, but little is better than nothing in time of a 
 crisis. If we had acted before as you did now, we 
 would have kept our jobs. If we did not care for 
 you, and had accepted lower wages, what would 
 you do now? You would have stayed out now! 
 But we sympathized with you; we considered you 
 our sisters, and did not want to injure you. We 
 fought for equality, we fought for a better life, and 
 if we had no sympathy from our employer it was 
 because we interfered with his business. But to 
 have no sympathy from you is a shame, shame! 
 With your actions, you discourage all union feel- 
 ings. Others in our place would surely scab on 
 you! 
 
 "You leave us now, and don't care, because you 
 cannot feel what it means to go around idle. Shame ! 
 Shame! You are an ignorant lot. You are igno- 
 rant!" She stopped, her mouth foaming, her eyes 
 burning with excitement. 
 
 They all stood up at once. "Shame! Shame!" 
 suddenly broke out in a roar of voices, deafening 
 the room. I fell back on my chair, weakened with 
 exhaustion. That was a cry full of protest, a cry 
 
Shame! Shame! 271 
 
 of disgust, a fearful cry of hungry, starved, wronged 
 voices. An army of girls, who create wealth, ready 
 and willing to do the best for the world; and the 
 world for them? nothing! 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 DOWNHEARTED, broken with disappoint- 
 ment, my mind confusedly wandering, I 
 dragged myself home. Is this what I have been 
 working so hard for, giving away my entire time 
 for the workers in my shop, developing in them 
 the spirit of unity, of brotherhood and sisterhood 
 But, after all, are they to blame? They had not a 
 full week's wages since the season started. They 
 also lived in great want. 
 
 Oh, that eternal repetition slack, busy; busy, 
 slack! My head grew overburdened with heaping 
 up broken thoughts. Justice, rights, wrongs, 
 united force, organization, fight for equality, 
 humanity all these straight and crooked letters 
 began to dance before my eyes, up and down and 
 around, mingling together, losing shape and form. 
 My head could not accommodate them freely and 
 assort them coolly. Everything appeared to be a 
 farce this present world a farce, life around me 
 a farce. Nothing was real. What's to-morrow, or 
 a day after to-morrow? What is there in all these 
 coming days and months? Where is the solution of 
 misery? Where where? Does it pay to live, after 
 all? Work, work, and never earning enough for a 
 living ! Eternal worry how to make ends meet. 
 
Does it Pay to Live? 273 
 
 Work in theory is noble. It is praised by poets, 
 priests, and high authorities. I believe in the noble- 
 ness of work, and want to work, but I also believe 
 that those who work are worthy of the rewards of 
 their labor; those are the ones worthy of respect 
 and admiration. But if we do not get that, does 
 it pay to work? If I am not able to find justice, 
 what do I want to live for? Does it pay to live? 
 Does it pay? 
 
 As those hopeless thoughts kept on pouring into 
 my mind, I discovered myself watching the gas- 
 lamp, its pipe circling over the table. 
 
 I was all alone in my room; alone in my silent 
 emptiness. In the stillness of the evening how easy 
 it would be just to put the pipe into my mouth, 
 one, two, three minutes, and then anguish will die 
 away. No more will my heart be gnawing, no more 
 will I rack my brains, no more will my soul cry out 
 in despair; free will my spirit be from the clutches 
 of misery, free of that gnawing, gnawing pain of 
 injustice one two three and a cold, life- 
 less body will stretch on the floor. It will be buried 
 somewhere in a lonely place, and soon very 
 soon the worms will eat into the flesh until 
 nothing will be left. Br-r-r what an ugliness! 
 What an ugliness! 
 
 But what difference does it make worms eat- 
 ing my flesh or human exploiters eating my free- 
 dom, my youth, my strength, my happiness 
 
274 One of Them 
 
 one two three, and all will end. No more will 
 I see the workers toiling, no more will I see them 
 starving, no more will I fight for human conditions 
 but no, how can I do it? I dare not deprive them 
 of my life; my parents in the war country, my little 
 sisters, my brothers in the cursed war; they do not 
 want me to die. They need me, they want me to 
 live But why do I need parents, and brothers 
 and sisters, to worry about them? Who imposed 
 them all on me? Would it not be better if I had 
 none of them, if I was alone, belonging all to my- 
 self, and had no duties to anybody? Why should 
 I live and suffer, just because my death will hurt 
 my parents? Why can't I shake off all the misery, 
 all the pain that possesses me? Why can't I die 
 when that will relieve me ? 
 
 But another voice, strong and severe, full of 
 reproach, rose within me, and awakened me from 
 my dark brooding. I stood up, but my head bent 
 down with heaviness, my body was feeble, and I 
 fell back half fainting 
 
 I was startled with a feeling of something very 
 cool on my forehead, and opened my eyes. Near 
 me stood Ida, one of my shopmates, holding her 
 cold hand on my forehead and watching me 
 anxiously. 
 
 "How did you happen to come here? " I inquired 
 in surprise. 
 
 "Why, you poor kid, J seen you at the meeting 
 
Ida's Theory 275 
 
 this afternoon. You did not look like yourself at all. 
 You was so nervous, irritated, and pale, like a ghost. 
 Well, I thought to myself, something is the matter 
 with her, but I ain't going to ask her, for it 's none 
 of my business; so I went home. But I worried 
 about you and could not eat my supper, so I came 
 to see what you was doing. I been watching you 
 for ten minutes now. You was breathing so 
 heavy and your face was so unhappy, that I 
 thought you have a very bad dream, so I put my 
 hand on your head to wake you What's the 
 matter with you? Are you sick?" she inquired 
 anxiously. 
 
 "No, Ida, I don't think I'm sick. How late is 
 it, please?" 
 
 "It's already seven o'clock." 
 
 "Only seven!" I wondered; "it seems as if it 
 were a long, long time since I last saw you at the 
 meeting. Sit down near me, Ida, and talk to me 
 a little. I don't know what's the matter with me 
 these days, but I seem to fall into such peculiar 
 moods. A sea full of absurd thoughts is constantly 
 arising in my mind. They envelop my brain, they 
 begin to rebel, deafening my ear with their noise. 
 This weakens me so that I grow unconscious for 
 a while. It is happening so often that, really, I'm 
 afraid I should lose my mind altogether." 
 
 "Oh, stop that nonsense. I, too, was feeling so 
 bad once upon a time. It's nothing but loneliness. 
 
276 One of Them 
 
 I remember, when I used to come home from work 
 so tired and there was n't nobody to give me as 
 much as a smile. From all the trouble that I used 
 to have in the shop, I used to come home and put 
 my head in the cushion and cry the whole evening. 
 I lived with strangers, and strangers don't bother 
 much with you. But since I got married, it's all 
 over. You see, I did not care for money. I love my 
 husband and we are both working. We furnished 
 a little apartment, and now I got my own little 
 home, and somebody who likes me and thinks 
 about me, I'm not lonely any more. I tell you, 
 you ought to get married, take it from me. You 're 
 lonely, that's all the matter with you.'*- 
 
 I smiled at her authority. How naive she seemed. 
 She really believed that I was nothing but lonely, 
 and all I needed was to get married. 
 
 "Does nothing else worry you, Ida? The shop, 
 its conditions, the surroundings, your work?" I 
 asked. 
 
 "Oh, well, what good will it do me if I worry? 
 What can we workers do? Take my word it 
 does n't pay to worry. I can't change this world. 
 We make our living somehow." (As an operator on 
 waists she was extremely quick and always made 
 more money than the average worker. Among the 
 two hundred of our workers there were only five 
 or six who were so quick, and in busy time, they 
 could make good money. Now, in slack time, she 
 
Thoughts on Birth Control' 277 
 
 tried to get along on her husband's scanty earn- 
 ings.) 
 
 "What would you do, Ida, if you had a child 
 and could not go to work? Would your husband's 
 wages be sufficient for you?" 
 
 "I should say not," Ida retorted. "But I ain't 
 going to have no children until my husband can 
 make enough for us." 
 
 "Bless you, Ida," I said approvingly. "Oh, how 
 I wish that all those miserable wage-earners should 
 stop breeding human stock until they can abolish 
 poverty, until they can abolish slums, until they 
 can make their government provide for them a 
 human standard of living and treat them like 
 worthy citizens; for no government, no country, 
 can ever exist without workers. The workers are 
 the basis of a rich country, they are the creators of 
 all the wealth, and they are to be benefited by their 
 work. I think if all the workers of all the trades 
 and industries agreed to refuse to have children 
 this would be the most successful strike. If they 
 only would refuse to have children, until human 
 beings are considered higher than money, and too 
 good for dirty slums!" 
 
 "I t'ink so, too, but do you believe this will ever 
 happen? Eh, you foolish dreamer!" Ida replied 
 kindly. "Now, until your workers will stop bring- 
 ing children, won't you have something to eat? 
 I'll bring you up anything you like to get." 
 
278 One of Them 
 
 She went down, and was back in a few minutes. 
 
 "A gentleman is asking for you," she said 
 breathlessly. 
 
 "Oh, yes, a friend of mine. I forgot all about the 
 appointment I made with him for this evening. 
 Tell him to come right in." 
 
 "Oh, I see," she retorted significantly, and went 
 to open the door. 
 
 My friend entered, slightly alarmed at my con- 
 dition. He was an old admirer of whom I had lost 
 track over a year ago, when he suddenly left town, 
 and I never heard from him until he had recently 
 returned. From our conversations since his return, 
 I discovered that he purposely disappeared from 
 my sight, so as to give me time enough to think, 
 and now he came back to assure himself of the hopes 
 that he cherished for two years. 1 liked him, and 
 had much sympathy for him, but as his earnest 
 pleas to answer his love became too frequent, I grew 
 tired of his presence and tried to avoid him. I was 
 therefore amazed to feel that I received him rather 
 with a gleam of joy that evening. What made me 
 feel so pleased, I did not understand. 
 
 Ida immediately found herself a third party. 
 She put her hat on and under the pretence that her 
 husband was lonely, she told us good-night, her 
 eyes twinkling meaningly at me. 
 
 "Lisa, what happened? Are you sick?" he in- 
 quired anxiously, sitting beside me when the door 
 
An Offer of Escape 279 
 
 closed behind Ida. "Something is surely the matter 
 with you. I wish so much I could comfort you 
 and relieve your pain. You need a rest. You need 
 to leave the city. You need to be out of the noise. 
 Why not come with me " 
 
 And on he went, making proposals, working out 
 plans, promising to do everything in his power to 
 make me happy. 
 
 I sat silently listening to him, and as he pictured 
 to me the happiness of our future married life, 
 I began to feel a little agitated by his illusions, but 
 that was only an impulse. I realized immediately 
 how absurd it was. It could never be as he imag- 
 ined, because he was a poor, exploited wage-earner; 
 but more because I did not love him. 
 
 It was only a short time after the other shop was 
 given up, when we, too, were left without work. 
 We were now assembled in the shop every day, 
 eagerly waiting for bundles that might by chance 
 come in. The boss suggested that we reduce our 
 prices on labor, so that he might get some orders 
 at a cheaper rate. That we refused to do, for we 
 knew the bitter results following the reductions in 
 prices. 
 
 Weeks wore on, and no orders came in. We were 
 already tired out with the dulness, and with fear 
 we met each new-coming day that brought us no 
 work. Having nothing to do, we would gather in 
 
280 One of Them 
 
 groups near our machines and tell our troubles 
 the main theme being the war. Nearly all had 
 families or relations either in Poland, Lithuania, 
 or Galicia, who were ruined by the war, and whom 
 these girls had to help. Until now, they had de- 
 prived themselves of necessities and shared their 
 scanty earnings with their unfortunate relatives, 
 but now there was nothing they could share. 
 Their own board and rent were not paid, and even 
 their car-fare was often borrowed. 
 
 Our boss also was very restless and we perceived 
 that something was to happen soon. And so it did. 
 He announced, with great regret, however, that 
 the shop would close up so the firm decided. 
 From a long conversation with him, I learned that 
 he also was a victim of the firm. 
 
 They had saved him from bankruptcy once, and 
 took him into partnership, buying his name. Now, 
 after one year of partnership, they were pushing 
 him out without his name! 
 
 "I'd never thought they'd double-cross me so," 
 he said bitterly. 
 
 Indeed, the other bosses acted meanly against 
 him. Of all of them he was the fairest and they 
 did not like him for it. They thought he was too 
 good to the employees and that was against their 
 principles. 
 
 I was very sorry for my boss, who was one of the 
 very few who did not oppose workers' union, but 
 
Becoming Hardened 281 
 
 still more sorry that the shop closed up, for we 
 knew that the firm would reopen it soon with other 
 workers, unorganized and cheaply paid. 
 
 Sure enough, the shop was moved to another 
 district, and reopened the next month, with only a 
 few of the old workers, mostly those who were never 
 brave enough to express their discontent. All of 
 us who were loyal union members and stood for our 
 rights were never taken back. This was a method 
 very much in style with the manufacturers to get 
 rid of active members. They called it reorganiza- 
 tion of their business, and as the employers have a 
 right to reorganize, we were often helpless against 
 them. 
 
 My search for work began as soon as our factory 
 closed. There were now armies of us going around 
 idle and we saw few prospects of getting more work. 
 But I got into the habit of wandering around, 
 and each morning a precious nickel brought me 
 downtown, where I paced the city streets, absent- 
 mindedly. 
 
 Swamped in that unemployed army of half- 
 starved, worn-out working-girls, I gradually under- 
 went a change. I no more experienced that shud- 
 dering fear against slack and starvation as in the 
 former seasons. I seemed to have grown accus- 
 tomed to it. Instead of fear, I felt disgust, and I 
 became hardened with apathetic indifference; my 
 
282 One of Them 
 
 room and books lost all interest for me. I had not 
 read a book in weeks. Morning and evening I 
 wandered around peeping into bright corners of 
 Broadway, gay entrances to cabarets, through 
 which crowds were constantly pouring, to plunge 
 and whirl in the wild, blustering orgies of carnality. 
 I peeped into the dark, dirty Bowery slums, into 
 the infested-with-white-slavery Fourteenth Street 
 in fact I peeped everywhere, often with careless- 
 ness, often with sheer curiosity. 
 
 There were two things that still stirred my blood 
 
 and painfully pierced through rny heart and soul. 
 
 They were the bread-lines and the flourishing 
 
 ) traffic in live souls that is so openly performed in 
 
 the streets of a city with high moral laws ! 
 
 I more than once watched the bread-line, in cold, 
 often stormy evenings, when the long row of shabby, 
 half -naked beggars cuddled up, pressing tight to each 
 other to protect themselves against the wind, stamp- 
 ing energetically with their feet, going through all 
 sorts of contortions to warm themselves, while wait- 
 ing through the long hours until a door would open 
 at last and a "generous hand" would endow each 
 one in turn with a dry bread-crust and watery cup 
 of coffee. 
 
 I saw another bread-line one night up at Eleventh 
 Street, where no coffee, only dry bread and scoldings 
 were given. Six men happened to be late and the 
 old man who gave out the bread frowned at them. 
 
The Bread-Line 283 
 
 "You lazy things, don't you know that if you 
 want to get bread you must come in line at ten 
 o'clock. I counted only fifty, and cut bread for 
 that many. Now you'll have to wait till to- 
 morrow." 
 
 One of the six silently slipped out of the line, and 
 as I followed him, he stopped near a restaurant 
 hungrily watching the inviting food display in the 
 window. I approached him and put ten cents into 
 his palm. His eyes filled with tears as he looked at 
 me in surprise, and clutched my hand with a silent, 
 expressive gratefulness. 
 
 When I returned to the line, the old man brought 
 out some dry slices of bread and gave it to the 
 others, saying: "Plenty of wurk. Why don't you 
 find something to do? I'm also an old man, and 
 I wurk twelve hours a day. You are too lazy to 
 wurk, too lazy even to stand in line. Oh, you!" 
 
 They silently accepted the scolding, just as they 
 silently came and waited, and in silence they 
 walked away. 
 
 As I stood watching the line, I questioned the 
 old man. He admitted that many of them had to 
 be taken care of. 
 
 "It's the liquor, it's all that liquor that brings 
 them down," he said regretfully. 
 
 I looked into their faces, there were drunken 
 bums, old, feeble men, and other life-stamped 
 wretches, odds and ends of one-time blooming 
 
284 One of Them 
 
 bodies. And the old man's reproach " Why don't 
 you wurk?" sounded ironical to me. 
 
 How can they work who will employ them? 
 They were driven out of employment by younger 
 and more vigorous workers. And if they do happen 
 to get employment, they get the "dirtiest work" 
 there is to be done. No wonder they drop it soon. 
 But even if they are lazy laziness is a sickness 
 and it must be cured, and cured carefully. 
 
 I looked at that useless "stock" and the painful 
 question rose loudly in my heart, Who is guilty 
 of those people's wretchedness, of their laziness? 
 
 They were young once, and with their work they 
 did contribute something to society, and it's the 
 fault of the structure of society that they became 
 useless. Society is responsible for spoiling them, 
 society must provide for them. A home for such 
 people could be built and kept with very little cost. 
 How can people, with the least spark of human 
 feeling in them, enjoy their wholesome, plentiful 
 food in a warm, comfortable home, when not so far 
 from them, out in the cold, old, sick, thinly clad 
 people are waiting for a piece of dry bread? How 
 can they? 
 
 Still, you see, on one side, people in brightly 
 lighted hotels and gay cabarets, lavishing hundreds 
 and thousands of dollars for wine and food, two 
 thirds of which goes into waste-barrels, and on the 
 other side people waiting twenty-four hours for 
 
Prostitution 285 
 
 a dry bread crust, which they are not able to chew. 
 Poodles and bulldogs are kept in luxurious apart- 
 ments, and human beings are lucky if the policeman 
 does not chase them off the hard benches of Cooper 
 Square, where they find their lodging for the night. 
 Oh, that scene of the stretched-out beggars on the 
 benches would fill me with rage, and I was ready 
 to call out to them, "Come, let's break into those 
 spacious, beautiful homes; there is enough room 
 for everybody!" 
 
 I more than once watched young girls go through 
 the glaring streets, trafficking with their honor. 
 The purity of womanhood was so shamelessly, 
 vulgarly trampled upon in front of the hypocritical 
 "moral watchers" who seemed to turn their heads 
 away purposely so as not to notice that which 
 everybody else so well noticed. I would thrill with 
 aversion at such permitting of the ugliest of ugly 
 deeds. My heart and soul would tremble with 
 indignation for my sex and again that burn- 
 ing question, Who is guilty of such an ugly stain 
 spread upon humanity? Who is guilty of the ruin 
 that is brought upon many a family through such 
 shame? 
 
 I came to witness many disastrous cases in my 
 close touch with the struggling world. How many 
 families must have been ruined through such 
 shame, I thought, as I watched those girls lurking 
 about the streets. How many more victims will 
 
286 One of Them 
 
 low wages and the present unemployment con- 
 tribute to the market of shame? Who is guilty, 
 and why are not men equally prosecuted for that 
 vice? 
 
 With lingering pain in my heart, I would return 
 home from my adventures. Never before had I 
 seen so much misery and ugliness, for never before 
 had I had courage enough to look so close into the 
 dirtiest, vilest districts of the city in which thou- 
 sands of children future American citizens 
 were raised. iVly curiosity, with which I started 
 out on my adventures, disappeared. The more I 
 studied life around me, the more I saw the desper- 
 ate struggle of the deprived ones, the stronger my 
 convictions grew, the clearer I saw that monstrous, 
 capitalistic power the power that causes misery, 
 horror, and destruction to us; the power that builds 
 its own happiness by robbing thousands of others 
 of their happiness. And it was painful to realize 
 that here, in this free democratic government, such 
 crime such individual anarchy is so absolutely 
 legalized. 
 
 My own circumstances were nullified in com- 
 parison with what I saw of others, and I grew less 
 concerned with myself. My income for the last 
 five months averaged about five dollars a week, 
 while the New York State Factory Investigating 
 Committee stated that nine dollars a week is neces- 
 
A Good Friend 287 
 
 sary as a minimum wage for a working-girl. I now 
 lived with a friend of mine, who was also out of 
 work, and together we succeeded to drag out our 
 existence. My friend's husband kept a second- 
 hand furniture store, and were it not for the war, 
 they might have been fairly prosperous. Second- 
 hand furniture is mostly bought by new immigrant 
 families, but since the outbreak of the European 
 war, immigration has stopped and together with it 
 the second-hand furniture sales. It went so far that 
 my friend had to borrow money to pay rent for the 
 unsold furniture. The only advantage my friend 
 had of the store was the display of furniture from 
 which even though second-hand she very often 
 picked out quite artistic things to furnish her apart- 
 ment. And we really had a very comfortable little 
 home. I was particularly fond of the library, fur- 
 nished with simple but artistic furniture, a lamp 
 with a nice green shade that spread a soft pleasant 
 light over the room, some cheap copies of famous 
 pictures hung on the wall, and two plants at the 
 corners completed the charm of the room, in which 
 the feminine touch of my little romantic friend was 
 felt on everything. 
 
 In the days of miserable disappointments, in the 
 days of hunger, my friend was quite a tonic to me. 
 I was often pleasantly surprised at that woman, 
 with hardly any education, but such a strong intel- 
 lect. We would both rejoice in the green, soft light 
 
288 One of Them 
 
 of our library after a "sumptuous meal" of bread 
 and herring having Maeterlinck for our dessert. 
 Maeterlinck was my friend's favorite, and in the 
 bitterest moments, when her sufferings would reach 
 the climax, she often said, with a little smile, "Well, 
 well, it could be no worse than it is now, but as 
 long as there is still a piece of bread, and some tea 
 in the house, and Maeterlinck to carry me away 
 high high above the misery, I can hope patiently 
 and search for my blue bird." 
 
 Our regular menu was bread, herring, and tea or 
 coffee. I also discovered another sort of economy. 
 Sitting in Central Park on a lonely day, I watched 
 a child feeding squirrels with peanuts. The squir- 
 rels confidingly picked the peanuts from the chil- 
 dren's palms, then ran away a few yards, dug a 
 little hole in the ground, hid their fortunes, and 
 returned for more, to the children's great delight; 
 they jumped and whistled with joy at the squirrels' 
 tricks. That play attracted me and I also bought 
 peanuts for the squirrels. I was hungry, so I also 
 treated myself to some peanuts and was surprised 
 to feel that the lingering pain of hunger disap- 
 peared. From that day on, I tricked my stomach 
 with peanuts. Whenever I walked around all day 
 looking for work, and getting no food, I would still 
 my hunger with peanuts, which certainly were eco- 
 nomical. A nickel's worth of peanuts carried me 
 around a whole day, and that gave me the courage 
 
Justice or Nothing 289 
 
 to reject jobs that were sometimes offered to me 
 for seventy-five cents a day. I was, and still am, 
 strongly determined to live on peanuts, or not live 
 at all, but never to sell my energy for seventy-five 
 cents a day, never allow others to deprive me of my 
 returns for my hard labor. 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE wheels of time kept turning on, speeding 
 and grinding the dreary days and months 
 and so another year had gone by. The war was still 
 going on, its flame embracing more and more na- 
 tions. If it brought prosperity to the American 
 financiers and munition-makers, it brought sorrow 
 and pain to us. Some trades that depended largely on 
 imports were actually crippled. It also affected our 
 industry, and the workers suffered greatly from it. 
 
 Tired out from the long months of unemploy- 
 ment, the workers hastened to secure employment 
 at the beginning of the year under any conditions 
 provided by the employer. Now more than ever 
 the employers took advantage of the workers' 
 weakness ; they trampled on our rights and ignored 
 the agreement with the union. 
 
 What were we to do? A great many of us who 
 refused to work below the minimum, travelled from 
 one shop to another, until we finally had to accept 
 a lower wage. Our union suffered a sore crisis. In 
 the long weeks of unemployment, members ceased 
 to pay dues, so that at the beginning of the year 
 our treasury was nearly depleted. In order to bring 
 back our members and help them become in good 
 standing, and also to encourage unorganized work- 
 
Difficulties in the Union 291 
 
 ers to join our organization, the union gave out a 
 manifesto, lowering the initiation fee from $5.41 to 
 $2.41. That amount initiated a member into the 
 union, and made a member in far arrears become 
 in good standing. 1 
 
 Little by little our union began to pick up, and 
 was soon engaged in a desperate struggle to restore 
 the standards which our employers had lowered. 
 
 If conditions due to the strike had improved in 
 1913, they grew worse in 1914 after the European 
 War broke out, and became worse and worse. The 
 employers paid low wages, claiming that times were 
 bad, due to the war. Whether or not it was true, 
 the fact was that the least little thing was ascribed 
 to the war. The cost of living went on increasing 
 from day to day, wages were small, and the workers 
 had to carry all on their stooping shoulders. 
 
 We realized that it was necessary to modify the 
 protocol and amend it, so as to make it more effec- 
 tive and bring it to the real object of its existence 
 that is, the establishment of "just and fair" 
 standards of working conditions in the dress and 
 waist industry, and to adjust the relations between 
 employers and workers on a basis of fairness and 
 helpfulness. We had had these attractive words for 
 three years on the pages of the protocol, but we 
 seldom had them in the shop. 
 
 1 A union member who fails to pay his weekly dues for a period 
 of more than eight weeks is not in good standing. 
 
292 One of Them 
 
 We held mass meetings and local meetings to 
 invoke the workers' enthusiasm. A great deal of 
 agitation was carried on by our " Gleichheit," a 
 Yiddish weekly given out by our union to keep 
 members informed of the conditions in the industry, 
 discussing social and economic questions also 
 literature. Two more editions, one in English, the 
 other in Italian, were given out for the convenience 
 of our non- Yiddish- speaking members. 
 
 Our International Ladies' Garment Workers' 
 Union, consisting of all the local unions of the 
 ladies' garment industry, sent out special organ- 
 izers all over to help organize the entire trade, not 
 only in New York, but also in the vicinity, and 
 in other cities. But the work was interrupted by 
 a frame-up of anti-unionists and scab agencies 
 which were assisted by a number of manufac- 
 turers. Twenty-three of our union representatives, 
 the best, the most loyal to the cause, were indicted 
 by grand juries on the testimony of gathered state- 
 ments by a certain leader of a criminal gang, that 
 our union leaders had hired gangsters to help them 
 win strikes, and that they often caused violence or 
 damage to the "innocent" employer. Eight of our 
 leaders were accused of murder in the first degree, 
 the rest of other crimes. That stirred up the en- 
 tire organized world, also a number of laymen. 
 
 At the same time, as if purposely to break the 
 union, the cloak manufacturers broke up their pro- 
 
Modifying the Protocol 293 
 
 tocol agreement with the union. It would have re- 
 sulted in a bitter strike, had not the mayor formed 
 a council of conciliation which brought the two 
 parties together and thus avoided a strike. 
 
 Meanwhile, our leaders waiting for their trials 
 were kept in the Tombs. The organized workers 
 who knew who the real hirers of gangsters were, 
 bitterly resented such a shameful frame-up. With 
 heart and soul they threw themselves into a strug- 
 gle against those who were intent on wiping out 
 our best and most able people. 
 
 And after many months of loud protests and 
 exhausting strain, we succeeded in convincing the 
 world that they were innocent, and in October, 
 1915, they were set free. 
 
 When all was over, our union began to make 
 preparations to improve conditions in our trade. 
 Our board of directors immediately began working 
 on the modifications of the protocol and new de- 
 mands, so as to present them to the Employers' 
 Association. 
 
 Each new demand was carefully discussed and 
 acted upon by special member meetings. Our mass 
 meetings were successful; our workers showed great 
 enthusiasm and understanding of the demands. 
 
 We demanded an increase in wages, and a forty- 
 eight-hour week instead of fifty. 
 
 We were ready to declare a general strike if our 
 demands were ignored. But the Employers' Asso- 
 
294 One of Them 
 
 ciation soon met our union in conference to discuss 
 matters. 
 
 After many conferences, unable to agree, both 
 parties submitted their disputes to the Board of 
 Arbitration. 
 
 The association controlled only half the industry; 
 the rest was in the hands of individual employers, 
 some of whom had individual agreements with our 
 union and some were not unionized at all. To 
 make similar agreements with them and enforce 
 equal standards throughout the industry, we had 
 to call a general strike. 
 
 The exciting preparations then began. First, we 
 organized the workers among whom we worked 
 for the coming demonstration. Many of us were 
 discharged from several places for doing it, I 
 among them. But I did not care. I hoped that in 
 the near future, through this new strike, we would 
 gain better conditions, that the new agreement 
 would forbid an employer discharging a worker 
 for union activities, and so I was willing to suffer 
 another few weeks. 
 
 The active members were assigned by the union 
 to different committees, each performing an im- 
 portant duty. And we worked very hard. In rain 
 or snow, we did not fail to meet and plan together. 
 We were all anxious to plan right and do our bit 
 for the success of the strike. 
 
 At last, on February 9th at two o'clock in the 
 
The General Strike 1916 295 
 
 afternoon, a red circular waved by a committee in 
 each shop was the signal to the workers to stop. 
 At the sight of the red circular thousands of workers 
 stood up at the same minute, folded their work, 
 put their aprons into the baskets and peacefully 
 marched down. Crowds of them were pouring out 
 from the different buildings into the streets, min- 
 gling together, greeting each other. Their happy 
 cheers loudly echoing in the air were caught and 
 enthusiastically answered by new groups who were 
 constantly joining the crowd from the neighboring 
 streets, and the avenues soon became black with 
 the multitudes of the young toilers. Races, na- 
 tionalities, were forgotten: Jews, Italians, Ameri- 
 cans, Slavs, Germans, colored people all com- 
 bined together in one desire, a desire for a better 
 life. On they marched, the crispy frost encourag- 
 ingly crackling under their swift feet. Their happy 
 cheers were like the remote, sweet bell-ringings of a 
 glorious future, and my heart bubbled with emo- 
 tion as I watched that live procession on the snow- 
 clad February day. 
 
 I compared them with the many processions I 
 witnessed so often in the early morning when the 
 crowds were moving on to the monotonous toiling 
 world. Those were mourning processions, dull, 
 automatic movements of a down-trodden mass who 
 carried all the thorns of life in their ignorant 
 indifference. 
 
296 One of Them 
 
 But what a different procession I saw now. 
 Multitudes moving on, but moving lively, pale 
 but happy were those young toilers who clothed the 
 nation and themselves were shabby. Pride and 
 dignity shone in their eyes. Happy were they when 
 they left the factories, not to return until better 
 conditions and fairer considerations will be granted 
 to them. And in my heart I blessed them all, 
 blessed their noble fight for a glorious freedom, 
 blessed their craving for a human life. 
 
 The meeting halls especially provided for the 
 strikers were soon overcrowded. Over thirty 
 thousand workers were on strike, and we thus 
 hoped to get in close touch with all of them to 
 explain to them the aims and accomplishments of 
 our union, to advise them how to use our joint 
 strength intelligently, how to look out for our 
 rights, and not allow the employers to trample on 
 us. We came close together with girls who had 
 never had the courage to hope for better conditions 
 and who now, under the influence of so many 
 strikers, grew enthusiastic and hopeful, and de- 
 manded from their employers recognition of the 
 union. 
 
 While the Board of Arbitration was still in ses- 
 sion, the individual employers, with the exception 
 of a few, came to the union office willing to sign 
 contracts. (The season was already on. And since 
 the employers knew that an agreement is only 
 
Arbitration Affected 297 
 
 effective when the employees stand strongly and 
 demand it together, and since they hoped to rid 
 themselves of the brave and persistent workers 
 as in the former days, and have their own ways 
 they were hastening to sign an agreement with the 
 union so as to get back the workers and be on time 
 with their orders.) 
 
 In the halls the committees in charge worked 
 hard to keep the strikers enthusiastic and every- 
 thing was conducted in an orderly manner, but a 
 demoralization arose among the strikers in certain 
 halls due to the misleading of some speakers from 
 the ranks. There were a few members, quite intelli- 
 gent persons and with good intentions, who caused 
 some trouble with their speeches. Not being pres- 
 ent at the special meetings at which our demands 
 were discussed before the strike, they were igno- 
 rant of many facts, and, failing to realize that, en- 
 trusting our disputes to the Board of Arbitration, 
 we had to accept its decision, unless it is absolutely 
 against us, they appealed to the strikers not to 
 make any compromises, not to accept any decisions 
 from the Board unless all our demands were granted 
 to us. 
 
 The Board of Arbitration did not grant us all 
 our demands, but its decision as a whole was favor- 
 able, and though a great many of us were not quite 
 pleased we accepted the conditions because we 
 had agreed to arbitrate. 
 
298 One of Them 
 
 When the decision was brought to the strikers, 
 those who were influenced by the appeals of the 
 few not to compromise refused to accept it. They 
 accused the representatives of the conference as 
 acting autocratically by accepting the decision, 
 but the clearer-thinking workers, who had care- 
 fully followed and studied the special meetings 
 and also the sessions of the Board of Arbitration, 
 were in full sympathy with our representatives, for 
 they saw our strenuous efforts to get for the people 
 whatever possible. With great difficulty we suc- 
 ceeded in restoring order among the discontented 
 ones, and after one week, when also a great num- 
 ber of individual agreements were signed, the peo- 
 ple gradually returned to work. 
 
 By little and little everything smoothed. After 
 such a huge demonstration of over thirty thousand 
 workers, things were slowly coming into shape. 
 The last decision was given out by the Board, and 
 the final modified agreement was drawn up. 1 
 
 The protocol as it read appeared favorable if 
 the employers would only carry out all that is 
 provided for us as stated; and if instead of short 
 seasons we had steady work; but above all, if the 
 workers themselves would stand together, and all 
 like one be on the lookout. 
 
 We returned to work with the hope that now, 
 
 1 For those interested in the details, a condensed form of the 
 agreement is attached at the end of this book. 
 
The Protocol Evaded 299 
 
 with an increase in wages and a promise of fair and 
 just relations between the employers and workers, 
 our existence would improve. But three months 
 have passed since the "new regime," and I stood 
 without a job again. It was the middle of May 
 now. This time I was not discharged, I left the 
 shop myself. But I left it as I left some of my 
 former jobs, where, having no grounds for dis- 
 charging me, they made it so unpleasant that I was 
 compelled to leave. 
 
 It was my eighth job since I returned to work 
 after the strike. In a period of three months I 
 worked in eight shops, five of which I left myself 
 and from the rest I was discharged. 
 
 Why did I leave, and why was I discharged? As 
 always, I was one of the few workers in the shop 
 who demanded our union conditions, and not only 
 for ourselves, but for the entire shop, and as such 
 workers we were discriminated against and forced 
 to leave. 
 
 If we did not find in our pay envelope the extra 
 pay for overtime, or the minimum rate that was 
 promised to us by the agreement, and we de- 
 manded it, we were called "kickers." 
 
 If we refused to work more than the regular 
 hours, we were called "trouble-makers." 
 
 If we demanded preference to union workers 
 or if we protested against unfair treatment we 
 were called "God damn foreign anarchists." And 
 
300 One of Them 
 
 what were we not called just because we demanded 
 a living wage for our work! 
 
 When signing the protocol, our employers agreed 
 to grant us in good faith all the provisions pro- 
 vided therein. If only they would have given us in 
 good faith what belonged to us, we would have 
 had nothing to object to and would gladly have 
 worked quietly. 
 
 But they did no such a thing. They gave us 
 nothing in good faith. We had to fight for every 
 bit in order to get it. 
 
 "Fair treatment" and "good faith" on the part 
 of the employers remained nothing but beautiful 
 phrases. In reality, they acted precisely as in the 
 former days. They violated the agreement some 
 more, some less. And those of the workers who pro- 
 tested against violations, who demanded what was 
 coming to them, were purposely treated badly as 
 a punishment for their activity or sent away alto- 
 gether. 
 
 A great many such workers, having gone through 
 a great deal of suffering because they tried to help 
 their fellow workers, would finally grow disgusted 
 and cease their activity in order to avoid the 
 employers' persecutions. They would lose hope of 
 ever expecting justice from their employers, and 
 with embitterment and hate they would settle down 
 to work, accepting everything quietly, wishing 
 and praying that a miracle (either through mar- 
 
Forty Jobs in Four Years 301 
 
 riage or something else) might happen and save 
 them from the shop. 
 
 Our union fought discriminations against active 
 members, and often helped them to retain their 
 positions, but I seldom complained to the union 
 to protect my job. I was too indignant to work 
 for an employer who did not want to employ me, 
 and who, not being able to discharge me for my 
 union activity, would give me work as one would 
 throw bones to a dog. I was too indignant to re- 
 main in such places and left to look for another 
 job. And thus, leaving shop after shop, I worked 
 in forty different places through my entire career 
 as waist-maker. 
 
 In most of the factories where I worked, they 
 found me desirable enough until I asked for a liv- 
 ing wage, or until my fellow workers demanded a 
 square deal. My fortieth job I decided should be 
 the last. I could not stand it any longer. When in 
 my last shop our boss wanted us to work the first 
 of May, which our union has always celebrated 
 by a demonstration, appealing to all union mem- 
 bers to join them in the march, they called a 
 shop meeting, and at the meeting I spoke to the 
 workers and made them realize that it would be 
 unfair if we did not respond to the union's call; 
 and if we did work for our employer, it would be 
 unfair to those employers who allowed their work- 
 ers to stop that day. Our workers agreed with me 
 
302 One of Them 
 
 and stopped from work the first of May. But after 
 that day the f orelady began to put me back in my 
 work. She would make me wait a long time for the 
 least particle of the work; she would also leave my 
 questions unanswered. When I asked for an ex- 
 planation, she broke out in a shower of fury : 
 
 "You got the nerve, to expect me to treat you 
 right, when we wanted the girls to come in Mon- 
 day [the first of May] and you threatened them 
 to stop ! You think we don't know that you try to 
 influence the girls to make us trouble you think 
 if you got a union, you are not afraid to be fired! 
 Union lady ! We don't want such people as you 
 you spoil us all the girls! " 
 
 I cut her short. 
 
 "If only you had told me that the first day, 
 instead of keeping me back in my work, I would 
 have saved you the trouble. I assure you that 
 though I have a union, I will not fight for the 
 job. But what I want you to know before I leave 
 is that I never did such a thing as threatening. 
 We had a full right to stop from work when the 
 workers in the other shops stopped, and we were 
 no exception. 
 
 "Just as Independence Day, or Washington's 
 Birthday, or Lincoln's Birthday is dear to any 
 patriotic American, and to me, too, so is the first 
 of May as an International Labor Holiday 
 dear to me, and I had a right to speak and explain 
 
Employment not Enough 303 
 
 to the girls the significance of it. You say I spoil 
 the girls why? Because I tell them to complain 
 to the union when you fail to pay them double for 
 overtime! Because I try to acquaint them with the 
 details of the protocol, of which they are ignorant, 
 and of which they should know! You don't like to 
 see people who understand and who can see what 's 
 wrong. Well as for myself I shall relieve you. 
 I shall not stay and be at your mercy, that you 
 should give me work whenever you desire, not 
 when I need." 
 
 And I left the shop. 
 
 I worked in forty factories Independent Union 
 shops, Association shops. To each factory I came 
 ready to perform my work, and with hope of earn- 
 ing a living wage. But the conditions in the shops 
 compelled me to protest, and if I like many 
 others lost faith of ever expecting justice from 
 our employers, I did not settle down to work in 
 dull hopelessness. I never learned to become the 
 "worker who ought to be glad to get employment." 
 No, I was never content just with getting employ- 
 ment I wanted something else. I wanted to be 
 paid enough for my work so as to get sufficient 
 good food to supply me with sufficient physical 
 energy; a nice, airy, comfortable room to rejoice 
 and rest in after a day's hard work; enough clothes 
 to keep me clean and also keep me warm in cold 
 weather; enough time for rest, recreation, and above 
 
304 One of Them 
 
 all, for spiritual development. God knows how 
 we crave it! 
 
 All this is necessary to keep one in good health 
 and spirits, to keep one contented and desirous to 
 work. I am not only desirous, I am eager to work 
 in order to live and enjoy life. But I refuse to live 
 in order to work! Life in itself is so attractive, so 
 full of blessings, that I refuse to let it slip through 
 my hands. I refuse to stand aside and let my 
 mouth water while watching others enjoy it in 
 full. 
 
 There were some employers who did recognize 
 our rights to live. They advised us to apply to 
 charity for aid. I recall once arguing with a boss 
 about a girl cleaner she was seventeen years of 
 age, self-supporting, and received only five dollars 
 a week. I tried to explain to him the needs of a girl 
 of her age. He listened to me attentively and said: 
 "But, my dear, you should not appeal for sympathy 
 in a business place this is no charity institution. 
 In here I am concerned with business only! I 
 donate enough to charities, and if you say the 
 girl cannot live on what she gets there are enough 
 charity homes for working-girls, where they can 
 live on small wages." 
 
 Through my experiences in dealing with employ- 
 ers, I heard that from many of them, who hope 
 that charity will take care of their workers. Noth- 
 ing could provoke me more than this. They wanted 
 
The Humiliation of Charity 305 
 
 us to work for them, and for our own living they 
 wanted us to beg, to ask for charity. Oh, how 
 I hated the word charity! The mere mention of 
 it sounded to me as a humiliation to mankind ! 
 
 We do not want charity! We do not need any! 
 We want what belongs to us for our labor, we want 
 it in full! 
 
CHAPTER XXIH 
 
 IT was Saturday when I left my shop the 
 middle of May when the dull season is already 
 rapping on the door. 
 
 I came home weary, not so much from the argu- 
 ment with the forelady as from physical weakness. 
 During the general strike I was on the Hall Chair- 
 man's Committee, having charge over a hall, and 
 keeping the strikers in order. Speaking all day 
 long to strikers, I grew hoarse and caught cold, 
 and while running around from one meeting hall 
 to another, thinly clad in bad weather, my cold 
 developed into influenza. That nasty cold gripped 
 me for the third winter, and as I never had a chance 
 to take care of it, a chronic nasal catarrh developed 
 in a most severe form. Sneezing fits would keep me 
 awake through the nights, making my life miser- 
 able. It caused me severe headaches, and my eyes 
 would be moist with tears. But I never had time 
 to think of it. My daily existence was made so 
 hard for me; my shifting from one shop to another 
 never gave me a chance to save up a few dollars, 
 either for doctors' bills or for a warm coat that 
 could prevent me from catching cold. Mentally and 
 physically underfed, I grew thinner and paler every 
 day, but strange though it was, my ill health had 
 
How Much Longer? 307 
 
 not interfered with my work. I had grown so used 
 to my machine that I worked it automatically, with 
 no special effort. It was only after work that I 
 would be overtaken with fatigue, and would slowly 
 drag myself to my lonely lodging-room. I lived 
 now in an extremely small room in a shabbily fur- 
 nished house, paying ten dollars a month. For such 
 a room I had paid six dollars a month only three 
 years ago. 
 
 Small, shabby, and also smoky from the little 
 gas stove that I kept to make my own breakfasts 
 and lunches, it was unfriendlier and shabbier still 
 when I returned home that Saturday. The walls 
 and ceiling hung low over my shoulders as black 
 wings. My senses were twisted in dark hopeless- 
 ness, for I had to look for work on Monday and, 
 oh, how I hated it! 
 
 Forty shops, forty different places in four years! 
 How many more years do I need for the comple- 
 tion of my brilliant shop career? And what is there 
 to expect in the end? How much longer will I have 
 to be scolded, insulted, humiliated, and managed 
 by greedy bosses and stupid foremen? How many 
 more pounds of flesh and blood must I lose at 
 work? How many more darkest days must I walk 
 through to reach the light of a new life? 
 
 And the stifling smoke in my room from the but- 
 tered frying-pan and burning eggs made the de- 
 cision. Not a day longer under the present con- 
 
308 One of Them . 
 
 ditions! I would no more return to the shop, 
 though to-morrow threatened with starvation. But 
 was it a threat, after all? Had I not starved, had 
 I not lived part of my time on the smell of food 
 rather than on food itself? And food was not all. 
 I was starved spiritually, had been starved for 
 four long miserable years. Was I not deprived 
 of everything, even though I worked? What was 
 the use to continue work? 
 
 I sat at my dining-table, the little square table 
 that served as desk, study-table, ironing-board, and 
 everything else. My meal was untouched. I had 
 no appetite, and nobody else would, being tired 
 as I was and having to prepare the meal, sitting 
 at the table with nobody to exchange a thought, 
 eat in silence, and clean up afterwards. I looked 
 about the room, at my food, at the newspaper 
 that served as tablecloth, and unwillingly I heaved 
 a deep sigh. What were my accomplishments for 
 the four years? For the moment I pitied myself. 
 And once more my early recollections rose with 
 reproach and made me homesick. 
 
 I longed for my home with my devoted family, 
 I longed for my early days surrounded with 
 friends. I longed to be once more the ambitious 
 "schoolmistress" surrounded by her pupils 
 sweet little girls with staring eyes, question ingly 
 fixed on their teacher. If I could but see them 
 once more around me delighted over some explana- 
 
Shattered Illusions 309 
 
 tion! If I could once more play with them in the 
 woods, looking into their dear, glowing little faces 
 when they begged teacher to sing for them! Oh, 
 if I could now fall asleep and, as often in my sleep, 
 live again in those days and forget that for four 
 years I have been nothing but a "Say!" and a 
 "Listen!" and an "I want you!" and a "Who are 
 you, anyway? " and a "kicker," and a "fresh thing," 
 and a "God damn foreign anarchist" (that 1 never 
 was). If I could but forget all the humiliations and 
 return to my old days, which, though very un- 
 happy because of the Government's brutality to us, 
 though unendurable at that time, still after four 
 years of American life, seemed the happiest. They 
 were in truth very unhappy days, but at least I 
 found solace in one cherished hope of running away 
 to free America. But where was I to run now? 
 Where should I look for my freedom now? And 
 I had no more hopes. 
 
 Mechanically my mind was making a review of 
 my four years of American life, and I sank brood- 
 ing over painful details. 
 
 Only four years ago I had left my home, un- 
 regretful of my step. I ran away from a coun- 
 try which tyrannized over our lives, which locked 
 our brains and ambitions. I ran because my soul 
 yearned in anguish for a free life, and I followed 
 the magic lure of Freedom. I ran to the land of 
 liberty. I came here young, hopeful, with vigor 
 
310 One of Them 
 
 and blooming health. I was eager to become a 
 member of a free nation, live among free people, 
 serve in whatever way I could for the comfort and 
 welfare of a free people, and get in return to drink 
 from the full cup of that balsamic drink of Freedom. 
 
 But what did I find? In Russia I had time, but 
 no freedom; here I had freedom, but no opportu- 
 nity to enjoy it. I was made a slave, I was made to 
 work hard for a mere existence. And where was 
 there time for the free schools, for more knowledge, 
 where was there time for the wonderful libraries, for 
 the luxurious museums ? Where was the opportunity 
 to rejoice in all the blessings of this free country? 
 
 If we rejoiced in one thing, we did it at the 
 expense of another. At the expense of our sleep 
 we went to the library; at the expense of a few 
 dinners we went to opera; at the expense of a better 
 room we bought a dress; at the expense of our 
 leisure we did our laundry; at the expense of a neces- 
 sary walk we read a book. 
 
 We worked, worked, and our profits went into 
 the hands of others. And should this go on for- 
 ever? Why? Why? For four years I worked, 
 I strove, I hoped, I struggled, I rebelled; after 
 each new disappointment I would patiently brace 
 up and take up life anew. But now after four 
 years I was too tired to rebel any more, I was no 
 more physically fit to endure such a life. My health 
 was entirely broken. Four years of my best youth 
 
Enough of It ! 311 
 
 and physical strength I lost in my struggle foi a 
 better life, and had accomplished nothing. What 
 was the use of struggling any longer? In place 
 of the one-time healthy, cheerful, ambitious girl, 
 there stood now a stripped shadow stripped 
 physically stripped economically. And should 
 this stripped shadow, this already good-for-nothing 
 wretch, go on living this life forever? Changing 
 shops, demanding living wages and being thrown 
 out for it, should she go on living in this miserable 
 room, and forever starve for real life, or should she 
 settle down to work in that dull, contented hope- 
 lessness like some of her fellow workers did in the 
 end, raise no voice, accept the employer's terms, 
 leave everything to his free will? It might be a 
 little more profitable than to protest against in- 
 justice and fight for better conditions. 
 
 But stripped creature though I was, I decided 
 to do neither. I said, "Enough of it! Either life in 
 full or nothing at all." 
 
 Alone in my room I sat that Saturday afternoon, 
 numb with hopelessness. In through the window 
 the sun shone pleasantly; the soft, warm air 
 brought whispers of spring into my tiny room. 
 I had hardly noticed this spring coming at all. 
 And only now I realized that it had nearly com- 
 pleted its duty and would soon be gone. It trimmed 
 the earth with its luxurious freshness, spreading 
 spicy fragrance. It brought the song birds to fill 
 
312 One of Them 
 
 the air with merriment, it brought color and 
 brightness into life. And I did I notice it? 
 A gray autumn dimmed the windows of my soul, 
 and its drizzling rain fell on my heart, freezing 
 my hopes. 
 
 Hopes oh, the beautiful hopes of my past ! 
 This new life in a free country has deceived and 
 crushed us! What shall become of us now? How 
 shall we begin our morrow? And back and forth 
 I paced, racking my brain trying to invent some 
 plan that might help me change my life, but my 
 wits failed me. The more I rambled in search for 
 enlightenment, the deeper the darkness sat enfold- 
 ing me into endless nights of uncertainty. The 
 morrow stared with its unknown burdens, and 
 shadows of fear spread around me dancing and 
 teasing, roaring with hellish laughter. 
 
 My head dizzied, senses twirled, a rush of mad 
 waves came heaving in my heart, shortening my 
 breath, and tears came pouring, pouring endlessly, 
 until pain was gone, leaving a blunt emptiness in 
 my heart. I began to fear my own self, I feared the 
 loneliness, I feared the narrow walls, and driven 
 by fear I left my room in haste. I wandered in the 
 squares and parks, I rambled for hours over the 
 streets, cut and zigzagged with cold steel veins, 
 and suddenly I felt lost amidst the noise and hurry- 
 skurry . So many people around, and all strangers to 
 me ! Such a big spacious world and no place for me ! 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 I SLOWLY walked toward the Bar Association, 
 where our Board of Arbitration held its session. 
 I liked the Board, I liked its existence; for without 
 strikes, without bloodshed, without losses to either 
 side, but by peaceful means of careful considera- 
 tion to their differences the Board often brought 
 the workers and employers to an agreement. My 
 experience in the end, however, shook my faith 
 in it. 
 
 Silence reigned in the room when I entered and 
 I tiptoed to the left side bordered with a cord, to 
 divide it from the right where the employers sat. 
 (Even there our bosses drew lines of distinction 
 between us.) At one end of the room the Board 
 presided. The chairman sat with his eyes half 
 closed, leaning back in his chair, only the constant 
 wrinkling of his high forehead showed his deep 
 concern. The two arbitrators, one for the union 
 and one for the employers, sat beside him, and with 
 intent faces listened to the word-battles of the 
 attorneys across the table. 
 
 The lawyer for the union spoke, and his well- 
 trained voice, now falling, now rising, carried with 
 force each new argument, strengthened the justi- 
 fication of our demands. But no less persuasive 
 
314 One of Them 
 
 was the lawyer for the employers. With no less 
 force did he repel our demands, not because they 
 were unjust, but because he defended the interests 
 of his clients who sat at the right listening to him. 
 He defended their profits. 
 
 I sat among my tired pale sisters at the left, and 
 from my seat I surveyed the "rights." For more 
 than three years I had worked for them. I studied 
 them, I knew them so well. I knew their attitude 
 toward the Board they hated it because it did 
 not allow them to exploit the workers in the good 
 old ways. They only tolerated the Board because 
 they feared public opinion, but in their business es- 
 tablishments they more often ignored the Board's 
 decisions. That was why the workers rose in pro- 
 test; that was why a great many of them lost faith 
 in the Board of Arbitration; that was why in return 
 they too sometimes broke the rules of the protocol, 
 thus violating the decision of the Board. And as I 
 looked around me at the people, at the employers, 
 at the arbitrators, their hard efforts and tireless 
 energy to create new rules, new laws for the im- 
 provement of working conditions, seemed useless 
 to me. They will not be observed anyway, for good 
 working conditions mean less profit, and who has 
 once tasted profit will not give it up so easily. 
 And even if the employers of our industry did live 
 up to the union agreement, would that solve our 
 problem? I am not concerned with our industry 
 
Beautiful Possibilities 315 
 
 alone; I see and feel the struggle, I hear the desper- 
 ate cry against poverty and misery of all the toilers 
 of the industrial world, and my problem is no more 
 my own; it is national! It is for the nation's 
 caretakers, for the upholders of American tra- 
 ditions to see that her children who build, enlarge, 
 enrich the country, shall reap the fruit of their 
 labor, shall enjoy the equality and liberty pro- 
 vided by this democratic country, shall be safe- 
 guarded from usurpers and parasites. 
 
 O, if only they cared enough, what a wonder- 
 ful world we might have! And at those thoughts 
 of beautiful possibilities new happy visions sur- 
 rounded me. 
 
 I saw industry belonging to the people and for 
 the use of the people, no more for the profit of 
 the few. I saw the workers, not only building 
 beautiful homes, but living in them too; I saw 
 them emerging from slums and ignorance; I saw 
 them straightening their stooping shoulders, rais- 
 ing their eyes with a proud, straightforward look; 
 I saw them cleansing the streets from vice and 
 crime, and transforming them into beautiful gar- 
 dens blooming with love, equality, and brother- 
 hood. I fluttered in the glory of a Future World, 
 growing unconscious of my surroundings, when 
 a gentle voice asking, "How is Lisa?" recalled 
 me with a start to the present. I turned my head 
 and met a radiant face with a row of smiling teeth: 
 
316 One of Them 
 
 one of my new friends, Juliet Pointz, greeted me 
 warmly. I walked over and took a seat near her. 
 Soon we were joined by another new friend, Robert 
 Grosvenor Valentine, who had just been appointed 
 head of the newly created Board to enforce the 
 protocol standards. (The Board of Arbitration, 
 realizing the difficulty in maintaining the stand- 
 ards for the workers in the shop, consented to the 
 demand of the union to establish a Board of Con- 
 trol, in order to enforce the ' protocol conditions 
 and equalize the standards throughout the indus- 
 try. Unfortunately, neither the employers nor the 
 union realized the full significance of such an 
 establishment and the Board was terminated.) 
 
 I met Mr. Valentine often those days, as he was 
 eager to get an insight into the shop and its effects 
 upon our lives, and I readily answered his thought- 
 ful questions. Through our long, intimate talks we 
 soon became friends. 
 
 I feel greatly indebted to my friend, Miss Pointz, 
 who introduced me to Mr. Valentine as one who 
 understood the problems of our industry. It was 
 through her that I gained the invaluable friendship 
 of a real true-spirited son of America. 
 
 While Commissioner of Indian Affairs, Mr. 
 Valentine instituted reforms for the welfare of the 
 Indian, and vigorously prosecuted those who at- 
 tempted frauds against the Indian tribes. As an 
 industrial efficiency expert, he was not merely con- 
 
An Eventful Meeting 317 
 
 cerned with the material success of modern indus- 
 try, but more with its effects upon the life of the 
 worker, and his sudden death was not only a loss 
 to his family and friends, but also a loss to the 
 nation. 
 
 In a corner of the room the three of us sat, in 
 the twilight of that fateful Saturday, and I tried 
 to chat as if nothing had happened. But the blunt 
 emptiness in my heart, that slowly changed into 
 piercing anxiety as' the realization of my present 
 circumstances returned, must have shone through 
 my eyes and betrayed me. My friend, Miss Pointz, 
 looked at me anxiously and asked : 
 
 "Well, what's the good news?" 
 
 "I am jobless again," I remarked, trying to be 
 unconcerned. 
 
 "Jobless again what is the matter with the 
 girl?" 
 
 She knew of my activities and unwilling adven- 
 tures and was not surprised at my announcement. 
 They both teased me for continually shifting from 
 place to place. But I found it hard to make light 
 of it this time. I sat there painfully aware of the 
 closing session, and that in another few minutes we 
 would bid a friendly good-bye, and each would 
 turn his own way. Where will I go, and what will 
 I do? I feared so much to remain alone. But before 
 I had time to decide, Mr. Valentine invited me to 
 dinner. I was loath to return to my lonely room 
 
318 One of Them 
 
 and was grateful for an invitation that would keep 
 away my companion, anxiety, for at least another 
 few hours. 
 
 We walked out and turned into Fifth Avenue 
 swarming with the holiday crowd of a beautiful 
 warm Saturday evening. On each corner we were 
 urged to buy fresh violets and fragrant lilies-of-the- 
 valley. After dinner we took a long, pleasant walk, 
 accompanied by our usual discussions and disputes, 
 and finally we turned into Washington Square and 
 seated ourselves on a bench to rest and continue 
 our talk. 
 
 "Tell me about your last job," said Mr. Valen- 
 tine after a short silence. 
 
 I did tell him of my last job and also of my pre- 
 vious ones. He put questions now and then, and 
 I was unconscious that he slowly drew out certain 
 chapters of my life as I had lived it in the factories. 
 Carried away by the flow of my own words, I went 
 on telling him of the life of the multitudes, and the 
 misery that reigned triumphantly in their homes. 
 
 "Come with me, and see for yourself," I said. 
 And I led him through Fourteenth Street and other 
 back streets flourishing with white slave traffic; 
 down to Cooper Square where the homeless took 
 possession of the hard benches for the night; and 
 down through the narrow street, crowded with 
 filthy tenements, where people lived and slept, and 
 bred in misery or in happy ignorance a new genera- 
 
r -w 
 
 What Do You Intend to Do? 319 
 
 tion, a new army for the industrial markets, for 
 men are needed for industry, industry is for money, 
 and money is needed for comforts, for luxuries, for 
 lust, for vice, by the idle profiteers. 
 
 "But all that will disappear in time," he tried to 
 argue. "Big profits must and will disappear in the 
 end. Economic conditions are already improving." 
 
 "Oh, yes," I said; "a slight reform once in a 
 long while, an increase of a dollar now and then. But 
 do you know that as soon as we get that increase, 
 the prices of food, clothes, and shelter spring up 
 immediately, and our raise goes back to the profit- 
 eers. So you see that cannot abolish poverty with 
 all its ugly consequences; and the burning question, 
 'What's to be done?' stands out again." 
 
 "Let us leave all these questions alone. Tell me 
 what you intend to do now." 
 
 "What I intend to do?" I repeated. His ques- 
 tion startled me with a jerk it instantly brought 
 me back to my reality. Quick as lightning memo- 
 ries of the past flashed through my brain, pointing 
 to a hopeless future. I suddenly recalled my one- 
 time, shrivelled forelady, her golden teeth that 
 glared from her half -open, pitiful mouth, and a 
 thrill of aversion ran through me. As yet I had no 
 gold in my mouth, but I already shrivelled; oh, how 
 I shrivelled ! And that horrid vision brought forth 
 a burst of agony, of words uncontrollable I was 
 not responsible for my answer. 
 
320 One of Them 
 
 "I have not the slightest idea, but I assure you 
 back to the factory I shall not go. I see nothing 
 awaiting me there. I have had enough, enough ! 
 I have secured an insurance policy to provide for my 
 family if things come to the worst; that is the best 
 I can think of " But that was as far as I went. 
 The last words babbled out unconsciously brought 
 me to realize that I spoke to a stranger, that my 
 confession might invoke sympathy, but no, sym- 
 pathy was not so bad, it was pity, pity, I hated. 
 I felt ashamed and ridiculous and, oh, how I 
 wanted my words back. But I was not given time 
 to repent. 
 
 "Look here, 'Madame Pessimist,'" he said. 
 "Now more than ever you must preserve your 
 patience; the future is not so dark as you paint it" 
 
 "Yes, I see my future stitching dresses^ 
 dresses, and more dresses P f 
 
 "Now, wait a moment, don't get the bad habit 
 of interrupting people when they have something 
 to say," he remarked; and continued t **! have lis- 
 tened to you for more than five hours now, and 
 things you have told me have opened a new world 
 to me, not that I have not known of it, but, of 
 course, I had the view of an outsider. I have never 
 before heard it so clearly and fully put by one who 
 has actually lived it. You have given me the most 
 valuable information, and I shall need you to assist 
 me in my future work. I want you to start, as soon 
 
Mr. Valentine's Commission 321 
 
 as you are ready, to write about your experiences 
 from your first shop and steadily on. I want all 
 details, interesting or otherwise. Write of the work 
 as it begins in the morning and ends in the eve- 
 ning. Write of the surroundings, the treatment, 
 the relations between one worker and another, 
 and between worker and employer. Write of their 
 homes, their lives, their recreations, how it affected 
 you and others." 
 
 I stared at him in utter bewilderment. For the 
 moment I did not understand why he wanted all 
 that for what purpose. 
 
 "I shall begin very soon the investigation in this 
 industry and your information will help to carry 
 it on more successfully." 
 
 "But I can't write with my limited knowledge 
 of English. I speak wretchedly enough, but my 
 spelling God help you ! Spelling was always the 
 most capricious of my friends, it demanded a great 
 deal of my time that I never had." 
 
 "Do as I tell you; never mind the spelling; it is 
 your brain I want to test. And so it is understood 
 now, you are in my employ and I am to boss you 
 whether you like it or not. You need not stay in 
 the city, you can gather your tools paper, car- 
 bon, pencil and get off to the country where the 
 atmosphere will inspire you to work. Every two 
 days you shall have to send me your manuscript." 
 
 "Manuscript?" I stared again. "You don't 
 
322 One of Them 
 
 mean to make an author of me? I don't know how 
 to write! No, thank you for the honor." 
 
 "I don't care what I make of you so long as I get 
 my information." 
 
 I glared at him in a state of perplexity. What did 
 it all mean? Why should a man whose acquaintance 
 I had made only two months before, take the lib- 
 erty of working out plans for me? I felt with sick- 
 ening horror that not he was to blame, but I, whose 
 silly tongue had let loose. "He simply desires to 
 help you," a voice within repeated, and his sugges- 
 tion humiliated me. I began to tremble with anger 
 and shame at my weakness. 
 
 I could not realize that he really needed me, 
 although his arguments were most convincing. He 
 finally gave me his word of honor that he needed 
 my service and added in his usual teasing way, 
 "Now, go home, and don't you declare any more 
 strikes on me." 
 
 I returned home. Tired and restless I sat up in 
 my bed, leaning against the wall, my head seething 
 with piercing doubts. To accept his offer or not? 
 Would it be the right thing to do? Not to accept 
 it what else is there awaiting me? voices kept 
 on rising, gnawing my heart and soul. Oh, when 
 will my heart stop aching? When will my soul find 
 its rest? 
 . Through my open window in the night-roofed, 
 
The Task Accepted 323 
 
 mysterious darkness, light breezes came flowing 
 in playing with my hair and caressing my face. 
 They stirred my blood, infecting me with passion- 
 ate desires to start out anew; to accept the chance 
 that breaks open all doors of new possibilities. 
 And visions, luring visions, surrounded me. Un- 
 heard sweet sounds, now jumping, now groping, 
 now vanishing, and now returning, penetrated into 
 the hidden depths of my soul, calling and singing, 
 waking, luring me to a new start of life. My heart 
 throbbed with ardor, the walls around me widened, 
 the ceiling rose high, and out of the night the morn- 
 ing dawn arrived shining through the window 
 brightening my soul. I slowly went to sleep under 
 the unconscious murmurings shall I? or shall 
 I not? 
 
 I did not so readily accept the offer. The next 
 day found me very feverish and I hunted im- 
 patiently for some of my friends to seek advice. 
 And Lord bless them! they all encouraged me, my 
 friend Miss Pointz was delighted with the news. 
 
 "Why," she said, "I always felt that a thing like 
 that should have been written about; you are 
 lucky in having the chance, make the best of 
 it." 
 
 Not trusting my own common sense, but assured 
 by others of the significance of the task, I at last 
 accepted it, and the next days I walked as if in a 
 trance. 
 
324 One of Them 
 
 Is it possible that I have escaped the factory 
 the institution of bondage? Is it possible that I am 
 free now no more a tool, no more a mere hand 
 to move the machine? Is it possible that I can do 
 something worthier than slave for profits? Is it 
 possible that I shall no more be the slave of Want 
 that dreadful monster? Yes, all that was pos- 
 sible. For I was provided with a minimum wage 
 now a wage not based on the arguments of 
 lawyers, but one based on my human needs! 
 
 And I began to work, supplying myself with 
 paper, pencils, and half a dozen dictionaries, Eng- 
 lish, Russian, and Yiddish, for the task was not an 
 easy one. Each sentence was thought out in Rus- 
 sian and I had to hunt in the dictionaries for trans- 
 lation and the spelling. It was long, hard work, 
 but were it longer and harder, still I was ready to 
 perform it with joy and delight, for I was free, free! 
 And I lost no time. In a week I was off to the coun- 
 try to work and enjoy the beauty in the open arms 
 of a fragrant spring. 
 
 And so I have emerged and risen yes, I have 
 risen eighteen hundred feet above the sea level; 
 amidst high mountains trimmed with red, green, 
 and yellow trees bright like Oriental rugs. I did 
 not feel the earth beneath me. As if on wings I 
 walked over the infinite, sky-roofed realm of splen- 
 dor, brightened with sunshine, charmed with 
 sunsets and moonlight, filled with music of the 
 
Can This be I? 325 
 
 birds and happy murmurings of the innumerable 
 streams. 
 
 And as I stood gazing into the infinite space, as 
 I inhaled the healthful freshness, drinking the 
 glory that spread around me, bathing in its warmth, 
 I kept on asking, Can this be I? And the trium- 
 phant answer rang, Yes, it is I. I, away from the 
 dirty city, the filthy streets, diseased humanity. 
 It was I out of the misery that ground me almost 
 to destruction. And I wished to sing, to dance, and 
 to pray! I wished to embrace the entire world in 
 my ecstatic gratitude. 
 
 But something clouded the sun and struck me 
 with reproach. I suddenly felt so narrow and self- 
 ish. Have I a right to be here, to embrace nature 
 in full charm, to enjoy the comfort of a spacious 
 room, and eat three healthful meals a day, 
 when behind me, down there in the sordid city, 
 thousands of my sisters and brothers, my fellow 
 workers, fellow sufferers, are toiling in the stuffy 
 factories, are wrestling for a chance to live? In my 
 selfish desire to lighten my own burden, which 
 became impossible, I forgot them and what a 
 shame! 
 
 My heart ached in anguish, I wished to run back 
 to them, stand among them, and rise only together 
 with them, to make possible for all to live in the 
 open glory of the world. And I said, "I am h'ere 
 only to store up health, energy, and courage; I am 
 
326 One of Them 
 
 here to grow my wings and come back to you, to 
 begin again the fight against the sinful injustice." 
 
 A storm gathered. Clouds thickened; the waves 
 in the lake below were lightly swelling. Soft zeph- 
 yrs played on the tree branches as on enchanting 
 harps. All silenced in unknown expectation. I 
 leaned my head against the window, closed my 
 eyes, held my breath and listened. In the black 
 silence from the depths of the wood vague ech- 
 oes were moving on, growing louder, and at once 
 a mad wind swooped through the air striking in 
 a thousand trumpets, the trees groaned, their 
 branches bowed low to the earth in fear. The 
 waves in the lake foamed and rushed, struggled 
 forward and beat against the shore. As if God 
 himself, indignant at the earth, opened the skies, 
 flashing angry lightning, showering and thunder- 
 ing. The storm fearlessly raged. It cried, it sang, 
 it threatened, it triumphed! And my voice within 
 was like the voice of the storm. It behooved me to 
 sing. I no more feared a storm, for I knew that 
 after the storm the sun must shine, and I sang 
 "O mighty winds, I'm one of you! My soul like 
 yours is blazing with indignation, and like you 
 I am wrestling for freedom! Let us then unite 
 our voices in a mighty chorus. Let us blow and 
 scatter our trumpets far and wide shake up the 
 world, smash in dust the sinful structures of present 
 
The Dawn So Sure to Come ! 327 
 
 society, cleanse the earth of evil and wake the 
 people, wake them to consciousness, appeal and 
 sing for the glory of brotherhood, of equality and 
 love." 
 
 The winds stilled. The storm silenced, the dark- 
 ness vanished. And a bright new dawn was slowly 
 rising from a remote corner of an infinite smooth 
 path. It had a long, long way to travel, but it was 
 so clear so sure to come! 
 
 Ours is the struggle for that wonderful dawn! 
 and to us shall belong its glory! 
 
 THE END 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 PROTOCOL IN THE DRESS AND WAIST 
 INDUSTRY 
 
 (In Condensed Form) 
 
 INTRODUCTORY CLAUSE 
 
 Whereas on the 18th day of January, 1913, the Dress and 
 Waist Manufacturers' Association and the International 
 Ladies' Garment Workers' Union entered into an agreement 
 in writing, which agreement had for its object to establish 
 just and fair standards and working conditions in the dress 
 and waist industry and to adjust the relations between em- 
 ployers and workers on a basis of fairness and mutual help- 
 fulness; and 
 
 Whereas the said agreement was made to run for an 
 unlimited period and contains specific provisions for revising 
 its terms from time to time to meet the changing requirements 
 of the industry; and 
 
 Whereas the parties have held conferences with reference 
 to amending said agreement in the respects of standards of 
 work and compensation and machinery for making more 
 effective the enforcement of the provisions of said agreement; 
 and 
 
 Whereas the parties having agreed in conference upon 
 certain amendments and having failed to agree upon others, 
 and pursuant to the provisions of said agreement having sub- 
 mitted their differences to the Board of Arbitration consti- 
 tuted thereunder for final determination, and said Board 
 having made such determinations from time to time; 
 
 Now, therefore, for the purpose of making such amend- 
 ments and awards in the form of an amended and revised 
 agreement, it is 
 
 Ordered that the terms and conditions of such agreement 
 as so revised and amended shall, together with the foregoing 
 preamble, read as follows : 
 
330 Appendix 
 
 The said Dress and Waist Manufacturers' Association and 
 the International Ladies' Garment Workers' Union reaffirm 
 the principles set forth in the original protocol of agreement 
 above mentioned and the contractual terms of the said agree- 
 ment are modified and amended to read as follows : 
 
 TERMS OF EMPLOYMENT AND SHOP STANDARDS 
 
 A. Wages 
 
 Week-Workers. The following shall be the minimum rates 
 for week- workers : 
 
 1. Provisions relating to Cutters, including Apprentices 
 Full-fledged cutters who have heretofore been receiving 
 
 a minimum of $25 per week, $27.50 (men only) . 
 Cutters' apprentices are divided into four grades : 
 Grade A, $6.00; Grade B, $12.00; Grade C, $18.00; Grade 
 
 D, $21.00. 
 
 2. Drapers (women only), $15.00. 
 
 3. Joiners (women only), 13.00. 
 
 4. Sample-makers (women only) , $15.00. 
 
 5. Examiners (women only), $11.50. 
 
 6. Finishers (women only) , $9.50. 
 
 7. Ironers (women), $14.00. 
 
 8. Ironers (men), $17.00. 
 
 9. Pressers (men), $23.00. 
 
 10. Cleaners: Girls under 16, during the first year, $6.00; 
 girls 16 or over, during the first year, $7.00; girls under 16, 
 during the second year, $7.00; girls 16 or over, during the 
 second year, $8.50. 
 
 A piece-rate for operators shall be fixed on a basis which 
 will yield to an average experienced worker not less than 
 thirty-five (35) cents for each hour of continuous work. 
 
 Test Shop 
 
 1. There shall be established and put into immediate 
 
 operation under the supervision of the Board of Protocol 
 
 Standards, a Test Shop under the direction and management 
 
 of a competent, practical, and impartial director, for the 
 
Appendix 331 
 
 purpose of ascertaining what is a fair working schedule rate 
 to be fixed for any part of a garment in any factory, in case 
 of dispute between employer and worker. 
 
 2. The cost of maintaining and operating the Test Shop 
 shall be fixed by the Joint Board of Protocol Standards and 
 shall be borne jointly by the Association and the Union. 
 
 Work Time 
 
 1. Hours of Labor. A week's work shall consist of forty- 
 nine (49) hours in six working days. Work shall not begin 
 before 8 a.m. and shall not continue after 6 p.m. on week days 
 nor after 1 p.m. on Saturdays or Sundays. 
 
 2. Workers observing Saturdays may work on Sundays 
 instead. 
 
 3. The following six legal holidays shall be observed in the 
 industry: Washington's Birthday, Decoration Day, Inde- 
 pendence Day, Labor Day, Thanksgiving Day, and Christ- 
 mas. All workers shall be paid full wages for such holidays. 
 
 4. Overtime work shall be strictly limited to five hours in 
 any one week and one hour on any one day except on Satur- 
 days and Sundays, in cases of emergency. 
 
 Pay for Overtime 
 
 1. All week- workers shall receive double rate of pay for 
 overtime work. 
 
 2. All piece-workers shall receive extra compensation for 
 overtime on the basis of the base rate fixed for a worker of 
 average skill and experience. 
 
 Home Work 
 1. No work shall be given to workers to be performed 
 at their homes. 
 
 Discrimination and Discharges 
 
 1. All employees shall be duly safeguarded against unfair 
 and wrongful discharges and against oppressive exercise 
 by the employer of his functions in connection with all 
 dealings with the workers. 
 
332 Appendix 
 
 2. No employee shall be discharged or discriminated 
 against on the ground of his direct or indirect participation 
 in Union activities. 
 
 3. The employer is entirely free to select his employees at 
 his discretion, free to discharge the incompetent, the insub- 
 ordinate, the inefficient, those unsuited to the work in the 
 shop, those subversive of order and harmony in the shop and 
 those unfaithful to their obligations. He is free, in good faith, 
 to reorganize his shop whenever, in his judgment, the condi- 
 tions of business should make it necessary for him to do so, 
 and he is free to assign work requiring a superior or special 
 kind of skill to those employees who possess the requisite skill. 
 
 Preferential Union Shop 
 
 1. Each member of the Association shall maintain a Union 
 shop, that being understood to mean a shop in which protocol 
 standards as to safety and sanitation and as to working con- 
 ditions, hours of labor, and rate of wages as herein stipulated, 
 prevail, and in which Union members shall be preferred in 
 the hiring, employing, and retaining of help and in the dis- 
 tribution of work. 
 
 Board of Arbitration 
 
 1. There shall be a Board of Arbitration in the industry, 
 composed of three persons, one to be selected by the Associa- 
 tion, one by the Union, and one representing the public. 
 
 METHODS FOR ENFORCEMENT OF STANDARDS 
 THROUGHOUT THE INDUSTRY 
 
 Joint Board of Sanitary Control 
 
 1. The Joint Board of Sanitary Control established in the 
 dress and waist industry shall be continued and the parties 
 agree, as heretofore, that said Board shall be empowered to 
 establish standards of sanitary conditions and conditions of 
 safety, to which the Manufacturers' Association and the 
 Union shall be committed. 
 
Appendix 333 
 
 Board op Protocol Standards 
 
 1. Recognizing the difficulties of imposing high standards 
 of wages and working conditions upon members of the Asso- 
 ciation and the difficulty of maintaining such standards for 
 the workers in the shops of such members, and for the purpose 
 of carrying out the pledge of the parties to equalize standards 
 of working conditions throughout the industry, both organiza- 
 tions do now agree to establish a joint board for the establish- 
 ment and enforcement of such standards, to be known as 
 the Board of Protocol Standards. 
 
 White Protocol Label 
 
 1. To make more effective the maintenance of sanitary 
 conditions throughout the industry, to insure the equality 
 or minimum standard throughout the industry, and to 
 guarantee to the public garments made in shops certified 
 by the Board of Sanitary Control, the parties agree that 
 there shall be instituted in the industry a system of certifi- 
 cating garments by label to be affixed to the garment. 
 
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