UC-NRLF 
 
LIBRARY 
 
 OF THK 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. 
 
 OIKT OK 
 
 Received & tT , 189 . 
 Accession No. Jj /</ Class No. 
 
arles H. Kerr & Co., Publishers, 175 Monroe St., Chicago. 
 
A STORY FROM PULLMANTOWN 
 
 BY 
 
 NICO BECH-MEYER 
 
 ILLUSTRATED WITH SKETCHES BY CAPEL ROWLEY 
 
 CHICAGO: 
 
 CHARLES H. KERR & COMPANY 
 
 175 MONROE STREET 
 
 1894 
 
Copyright, 1894 
 BY CHARLES H. KERR & COMPANY 
 
 Library of Progress. No. t2. Quarterly, $2.00 a year. September, 1 8 Q4 
 
 Entered at the Postoffice , Chicago, as second class mail matttr 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 
 
TO THE WAGE-EARNERS OF AMERICA. 
 
"O Lord of life and love in whom I believe how long, how long? 
 Page 54. 
 
A STORY FROM PULLMANTOWN 
 
 It was a quiet afternoon in October, 1893, 
 month of repose after fulfilled expectations, that 
 month in which nature prepares for a health-giv 
 ing rest during winter, for a calm concentration of 
 forces, which are to burst into new life at a coming 
 spring. Surely October, 1893, would also become 
 a month of repose to the nations, who had exerted 
 themselves to their utmost capacity. They had 
 gathered together what brains had thought and 
 hands achieved, ever since man first lifted a stone; 
 they had built from it a world of art and beauty, 
 of intellect and skill, till they themselves stood 
 dazed by its splendor. 
 
 It had been proved, how mankind had made sun 
 and air and soil subject to the power of the mind. 
 Now the nations could go home and rest as mas 
 ters of the earth. 
 
 And especially the people of the Western hem 
 isphere, they who had contributed the main share 
 to this crowning of civilization if they could not 
 
 5 
 
6 A STORY FROM PULLM/1NTOWN 
 
 enjoy a well-deserved rest, it would be against the 
 laws of nature. 
 
 As the steeples from the World s Columbian Ex 
 position and the voices from the Congresses arose 
 toward heaven, the spirits of the Pilgrim Fathers 
 congregated above to behold a sight: From the 
 ores of mountains only known to them through the 
 red warriors tales, their children had taken silver 
 and gold and glittering stones; from these and from 
 night-black coal they had constructed monuments 
 for their own daring and skill; from endless prairies 
 ruled by sun and wind, known to them only by 
 faint breezes whispering eastward, had their chil 
 dren brought the heavy wheat and golden maize 
 and wreathed it amid buffalo horns around ma 
 chines which had plowed and harvested those 
 prairies. 
 
 They had brought it by steam, and they had 
 called for it through thin wires of metal stretching 
 from one end of the country to the other. 
 
 And words of fraternity and love, equality and 
 brotherhood of man, rose from men and women. 
 Woman had a temple all her own, with marble and 
 paintings and flowers and silks. And from here, 
 too, an incessant stream of words arose. 
 
 Some of the Pilgrim Fathers said; "It is words 
 
A PLACE FOR WORKING 7 
 
 from the right and words from the left; it seems to 
 be words, all of it." 
 
 "Don t you see," others said, "that the new- 
 built city is white? It is the spirit of light and 
 love, which makes it shine." 
 
 The Eastern nations came and uncovered their 
 heads, giving thanks for the extended invitation to 
 witness the splendor of the nation, of the future; 
 when they had seen it and heard many words, they 
 went home. 
 
 After this the heavenly city was to be broken 
 down, as if it had been put too early into this 
 world. 
 
 But the nation who had built it, needed most 
 
 of all to go home and rest by quiet every-day \\ork, 
 
 in comfort and peace, gaining strength until great 
 
 national achievements might be called for again. 
 
 *** * 
 
 There was a town in this nation called Pullman- 
 town. It was known as a place rilled with men 
 and women who spent their life working. It was 
 not a place where people came to eat and drink 
 and lie around, watching other people pushing the 
 world ahead; nor was it a place where gamblers 
 and loafers and speculators in other people s weak 
 ness or folly came to harvest a crop. 
 
8 A STORY FROM PULLMANTOWN 
 
 In this town lived a set of men and women who 
 during fourteen years work had shown that they 
 realized their place in the construction of society, 
 their particular ability, their duties as parents and 
 citizens. They knew that will to work is the never- 
 ceasing wheel which drives mankind toward its 
 aim; daily experience had taught them that the 
 existence of all depended upon the working-power 
 of the individual. They desired to work with the 
 best of their strength, and to rest only to be better 
 fitted for new work. Therefore this town was 
 known over the world. If it had not been so before, 
 it would have become so during the summer of 
 1893. People from all parts of the world were 
 taken to the white city in cars built by those work- 
 ingmen, and the travelers heard with surprise 
 about such a town filled with thousands of honest 
 men and women, people representing the energy 
 and nerve of mankind, without any drones in their 
 houses or tramps on their streets. A great many 
 deplored that time and opportunity did not allow 
 them to go and see this place so unique in the 
 world. 
 
 In the evening calm of an October day a train 
 came running with full speed toward this labor- 
 city, 
 
A GROUP OF FACES 9 
 
 With his face pressed against one of the car win 
 dows, a little boy was sitting on his knees, watch 
 ing the cows on the fields through which the train 
 was running. Once in a while he lifted his face to 
 a woman by his side, who smiled into his eager 
 gaze; a tall, commanding figure, with expressive, 
 quickly changing features. The likeness between 
 her and the boy was mostly seen in the dark-blue 
 eyes, which, especially in the boy, attained a depth 
 taking in and possessing those looking into them. 
 His movements in bending back and forth, were 
 quick and graceful as those of a kitten, and his 
 skin so clear that it impressed one with a similar 
 pureness of soul inside the fair form. By his other 
 side was sitting a man a gentleman, one would 
 say, without stopping to think. One glance at the 
 well-built, somewhat slender figure, told the or 
 igin of the grace in the child. The face, turned 
 toward the fields, was restful as were the fields 
 themselves in the waning day. They all three 
 looked as people who came from sun and rest and 
 had become filled with it. 
 
 At one of the stopping places a young girl got 
 on nay, not young; perhaps in age, but not in 
 appearance. She took a seat opposite the little 
 boy. She was dressed in a plain gray summer 
 
10 A STORY FROM PULLMANTOWN 
 
 suit. Her hat was gray, so were her eyes, and her 
 face was colorless. She did not look attractive, 
 nor did she by any means appear the contrary. 
 She did not look worn out through work; rather, 
 as if care had weighed heavily on her young shoul 
 ders. Once noticed, people could not help looking 
 at her again, wondering where her place in life 
 might be. 
 
 And surely, nobody could help paying attention 
 to what those lips might have to say. 
 
 Hergloveless hands were folded in her lap; slim 
 and nervous did they look; they were not used to 
 house-work. 
 
 The little boy shouted with delight as the train 
 passed a cow so closely, that it would have taken 
 more than the drowsiness of a cow to appear un 
 concerned had it been a few inches closer. 
 
 She looked at him and smiled, a sweet and sym 
 pathetic smile, which went to his mother s heart as 
 she caught it. 
 
 The boy ran to tne window at the opposite side, 
 in hope of seeing new sights. The stranger stroked 
 his yellow curls as he sat down by her, while he 
 in turn grasped for the locket on her chain, asking 
 where she got it. 
 
 His mother interfered- 
 
MAKING NEW FRIENDS 11 
 
 "Please, let him talk," the stranger said, in the 
 low, melodious voice indicating culture of heart; 
 "I love to talk with children, and he is such a sweet 
 boy." 
 
 The sweet boy did not need to hear any repeti 
 tion; he crawled noiselessly as a squirrel on her lap 
 and commenced examining her locket, chain, 
 breastpin, buttons and everything in sight. 
 
 His mother again remonstrated. 
 
 "Let him amuse himself; he is tired from travel 
 ing; has he traveled far?" 
 
 "Not very far. But we paid our last visit to 
 the World s Fair this morning, and he may have 
 reason for being tired." 
 
 At this moment a newspaper went down, which 
 for a while had covered the face of a man by the 
 door of the car. He looked in the direction of 
 the two who were talking. 
 
 As if drawn by his look, the young girl turned 
 her headland met his gaze. 
 
 A faint color crept under her skin, as if a stream 
 of life struggled to rise to the surface. 
 
 He showed a row of superb teeth. 
 
 "I thought I knew that voice; if I had known 
 that, Miss Kean, I should certainly have offered 
 my company this morning." 
 
12 A STORY FROM PULLMANTOWN 
 
 "Thank you; you know I get along very well 
 alone." 
 
 She turned to the boy s mother again. "So you 
 have visited the Fair. Did it meet your expecta 
 tions?" 
 
 "More than that," was the enthusiastic answer. 
 "It was a day-dream of beauty. I shall feel thank 
 ful all my life, that I was allowed to live at this 
 time; it seems as if my remaining years all must 
 be hallowed by what this summer has brought to 
 me." 
 
 "I am glad to hear you say so. It is a blessing 
 for every one who has had so much benefit from 
 it." 
 
 "Did it not make the same impression upon 
 you?" 
 
 "In some way. Only I did not look at it as 
 work accomplished; to me it was a prophecy of a 
 better future, when a White City on the earth 
 no more should stand as a crying contrast to the 
 rest of the world. I have only been able to go 
 there three times" her listener started up in her 
 seat with surprise "the last time I was there, 
 unshed tears seemed to choke me, as I bid good 
 bye; thankfulness, bitterness, hope and despair 
 mingled together, but the lasting impression was; 
 
A TERRIBLE CONTRADICTION 13 
 
 We have created this, we must reach to a time 
 when it no more shall be a terrible contradiction." 
 
 The little boy s mother again looked surprised 
 and puzzled. Her husband had turned his face 
 away from the shining fields and looked with in 
 terest at the speaker. 
 
 Suddenly the paper from the corner seat went 
 down again, and two eyes filled with the force of 
 a determined will were turned to the young lady. 
 
 "I agree with you, Miss Kean; it was grand to 
 sublimeness from our part, and it was from their 
 part an exposure of rottenness, unprecedented in 
 the history of nations." 
 
 An earnest nod was the answer. 
 
 The older lady took her little boy on her lap, 
 utterly unable to comprehend the meaning of this. 
 She would have expressed herself, but the noise 
 from a passing train checked her. She contented 
 herself with looking at him. The words from 
 Longfellow s poem were recalled to her memory: 
 
 "The star of the unconquered will, , 
 He rises in my breast, 
 Serene and resolute and still, 
 And calm and self-possessed." 
 
 Slowly each word arose before her, as she watched 
 this stranger. He was of her husband s build, but 
 of the dark type, a face full of nerve. She noticed 
 
14 A STORY FROM PULLMANTOWN 
 
 with a certain satisfaction, that th&ugh his hair and 
 complexion were fully Southern, his eyes were of 
 a deep blue. There was the touch of an artist 
 over his person and attire, devoid of jewelry and 
 display as it was. It struck her, what perfect re 
 pose there was in his way of carrying his head! 
 His words appeared to her as contradictory to his 
 personal appearance. 
 
 She turned toward her husband and saw him 
 with a look of intense interest watch the stranger, 
 who now buried himself behind his paper again. 
 
 On and on the train went, past fields of milk 
 weed and blue-grass, lying as though they were 
 untouched from eternity; it seemed to widen one s 
 soul to look at them. 
 
 Tall chimneys and red buildings had been in 
 view for a while; at last the train slackened its 
 speed. Before them was a city of chimneys, fac 
 tories and houses. 
 
 How beautiful! How peaceful! 
 
 Green lawns, hanging willows, birches oh, the 
 birches from Dakota! 
 
 She leaned eagerly out of the window, taking in 
 the sight, looking at her little boy and her hus 
 band to see a corresponding joy in their faces. 
 
 "Look, what is this, there on the grass?" the 
 boy cried. 
 
I 
 
 DF THB 
 
 UNIVERSITY , 
 
A TRULY BEAUTIFUL PLACE 15 
 
 "Yes, what is it that is standing there in flowers 
 there?" 
 
 Her husband followed, where she pointed. 
 
 On the slope was standing in pale flowers: 
 
 "HOARD." 
 
 "That is the name of the owner of this place, 
 Mr. HOARD." 
 
 Flowers, red, yellow and blue, forming beds of 
 various shapes; hotels and finely constructed 
 buildings surrounding them. 
 
 "What a truly beautiful place!" she exclaimed, 
 grasping her husband s arm. 
 
 "That is what I told you," he answered, with 
 satisfaction. 
 
 At the same moment, she saw the paper in the 
 corner sink again; a smile, half amused, half pity 
 ing, flitted across the face of its reader, while he 
 looked toward the girl in gray; just the same ex 
 pression was on her face, and then both involun 
 tarily turned their eyes for a second to the party 
 by the window. 
 
 The train stopped and everybody started to 
 leave. 
 
 "Let me help Earl, and you look after the trunks," 
 the mother said. 
 
 She was going to step down, but a strange feel- 
 
16 A STORY FROM PULLM4NTOWN 
 
 ing of uneasiness had possessed her; she hardly 
 knew what she was about; a black lace shawl that 
 she had thrown over her arm was hanging down to 
 the floor, and as she was on the step, her little boy 
 was standing in the car on the shawl. He stag 
 gered by her pulling it, and the lady in gray grasped 
 him, just as he was going to fall, and lifted him 
 down to his mother. She was profuse in her 
 thanks, as she put on the little fellow s hat and 
 re-arranged his clothes. 
 
 "I heard your name was Miss Kean; my name is 
 Mrs. Wright. I hope we will become better ac 
 quainted, if you live here. We intend to go into 
 the grocery-business here." 
 
 At this moment her husband came with two 
 valises, and took her and their boy along to a hotel. 
 She did not know but she might be mistaken, yet 
 it seemed to her that a meaning glance, pitying, 
 sympathizing, was passed between the two young 
 strangers, who stood side by side, looking at them. 
 * * * * 
 
 Supper-time was past, and the little boy was 
 put to bed, tired after the exertions of the day. 
 Husband and wife were sitting on a bench outside 
 the hotel, enjoying the quietness around them. 
 This did not look much like the working-place it 
 
A SPLENDID PLACE FOR BUSINESS 17 
 
 was, at the present hour, where the machinery 
 rested together with the hands that run it. And 
 then, the factories and the houses occupied by the 
 working-people were behind the fashionable part 
 of the place, Mr. Wright said. 
 
 The feeling of uneasiness with which Mrs. 
 Wright had been impressed in the car, was wear 
 ing off, and what little might be left, she tried to 
 talk away. 
 
 "It cannot be any other way, Henry," she said 
 to her husband; "this must be a splendid place for 
 a man in your line of business. A workingman 
 who has work is a good customer; here are no 
 idlers and loafers; they would not be tolerated, as 
 the rent must be paid." 
 
 "No, that is true. If only the winter will not 
 be dull." 
 
 "There is no fear of that. People here know that 
 their only chance of getting work is with these 
 factories and shops; if they could not get it there, 
 they would leave for some other place, and only 
 those at work would remain. How we shall enjoy 
 getting a home of our own again and to commence 
 doing something! I should not like to travel all 
 my life." 
 
 And husband and wife began talking about their 
 
18 A STORY FROM PULLM^NTOWN 
 
 future prospects, while their thoughts all the time 
 turned back to their sleeping child, what they 
 wanted to do for him in time to come. 
 * * * * 
 
 Mr. Wright and his wife had for years lived in 
 a small city in South Dakota. She had been a 
 teacher for many years previous to her marriage, 
 and during the first two years of her marriage, too; 
 but when their child came she gave it up in order 
 to devote herself entirely to him. 
 
 Mr. Wright had been a teacher, too, but a deli 
 cate nerve-system made him less fit for this occu 
 pation, and he became a merchant like his father. 
 At the beginning of the World s Fair and the Con 
 gresses they rented out their store and came to 
 Chicago to spend the summer there. Here they 
 met an old friend of Mr. Wright s, who for some 
 years had owned a store in a city of working-peo 
 ple called Pullmantown. Mr. Wright had been 
 aware of the existence of such a place, and that was 
 about all. Their friend s description of this unique 
 place interested them. They had experienced sev 
 eral losses in their business last winter, by having 
 had to trust old neighbors and friends, especially 
 farmers who had suffered through droughts; they 
 were by no means disinclined to change their place 
 
RENTS THAT SEEMED EXORBITANT 19 
 
 of business. This certainly seemed encouraging. 
 Days of hard work in those iron and melting shops 
 would ask for good strengthening food. Steady 
 work strengthens the character of men and makes 
 it safe to do business among them. Their friend 
 could not stand the winters of Illinois, he ex 
 plained; he desired to go south. 
 
 Mr. Wright went out to look at the place. His 
 friend stuck to his side all the . time, treated him 
 to a fine dinner in the hotel, took a walk with him 
 in the park, showed him the large tenement blocks 
 and then they took an inventory of the store. 
 
 Mr. Wright went back and talked the matter 
 over with his wife and it was settled. They sold 
 their place in Dakota in order to go to Pullman- 
 town. 
 
 Mr. Wright had only one objection to what he 
 observed; the rent of the store and of a house such 
 as he considered fit for his family to live in, was 
 exorbitant. He had to pay $50.00 for a store which 
 in Chicago could be had at the rate of $15.00, and 
 $27.00 for a flat which in Chicago before the Fair 
 would rent at $18.00. But his friend pacified him: 
 if business was that much better, what figure would 
 the rent cut? 
 
 One thing displeased him even more than the 
 
20 A STORY FROM PULLMAUTOWti 
 
 amount of the rent: no store could be leased here 
 on other conditions than at ten days notice of va 
 cating. He looked in amazement, nay, with the 
 keenest displeasure, at the face of the renting agent, 
 Mr. Horn, as this gentleman assured him of the 
 impossibility of changing this elause. Mr. Wright 
 was at a loss to understand the cause for such dis 
 obliging and tyrannical treatment of renters; but a 
 look at the shrewd, cold face of the business man 
 disgusted him so much that he gave up all attempts 
 of arguing the matter. 
 
 He left with only one unpleasant impression of 
 his new place of living the fact that such a large 
 business center should have their renting attended 
 to in such a way, and through a person who looked 
 more like a piece of machinery than like a human 
 
 being. 
 
 * # * * 
 
 On the morning after their arrival at Pullman- 
 town Mrs. Wright went out for a walk with her lit 
 tle boy; her husband being busy in the store and 
 at the depot, arranging things. 
 
 It was such a morning in fall as gives back to 
 one all that might be lost in strength during the 
 summer heat. She had intended to get up early 
 enough to see people go to work, but she slept too 
 
O* [a. a. 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
She left behind her the better built houses and came to streets and 
 alleys, where fences were rotting and weeds standing high. Page 21. 
 
A MORNING WALK 21 
 
 long; the factories had been running for over half 
 an hour. She passed under the birches out on 
 the white street to one side the wide-stretching 
 fields wonder who owns all those fields! to the 
 other side the city, hammering, snorting, puffing 
 out volumes of smoke, in its effort to achieve some 
 thing on this new day. 
 
 "My country, tis of thee land of the noble, 
 free" it sounded in her thoughts; she did not know 
 that she was humming it, until she heard her child 
 keep pace to it. 
 
 She left the small park to take a walk along the 
 common streets of the city. She left behind her 
 the better built houses and came to streets and 
 alleys, where fences were rotting and weeds stand 
 ing high; at many places window-lights were 
 broken. This made an unpleasant impression 
 upon her. In the small city where she used to 
 live, most of the workingmen owned their own 
 homes, the houses were kept nice and the surround 
 ings made attractive. 
 
 She could not help wondering how those places 
 looked inside. She walked and walked, until both 
 she and the child became so tired that she had to 
 sit down on a high sidewalk. 
 
 Why in the world was this place laid out that 
 
22 A STORY FROM PULLMANTOIVN 
 
 way? Had men no sense and no thoughts for wom 
 en and children? Not as far as eye could reach 
 had there been a place with trees and grass, where 
 the mothers, packed together in those prison-like 
 houses, could go out with their little ones; and yet, 
 there was plenty of ground all around the city. 
 Women were sweeping their porches and shaking 
 their rugs in the neighboring houses; they stood 
 still and looked down at the strangers. Now men 
 were walking to and fro in the houses, or rather 
 to and fro in the different parts of the houses, as 
 here were whole blocks built in one house, with 
 families packed together as herrings in barrels. 
 She thought with a sigh of the cozy cottages in her 
 old home. 
 
 Strange, it seemed as if many men must be out 
 of work, or what were they doing at home at this 
 time of the day? Two men came from an alley 
 and sat down on the corner of the sidewalk. She 
 liked their appearance, and went to them. 
 
 "Will you please tell me, gentlemen, is there 
 nothing in the way of trees or grass or flowers in 
 your city, except the small place by the depot?" 
 
 "There is a park in the outskirts, where the 
 train is running. If you wish to see it, we will 
 show you the way." 
 
/ 
 
 Hi: 
 
 SWAMP-LAUD AND PARKS 23 
 
 They all went along. They passed a piece of 
 swamp-land lying between two of the large facto 
 ries. The electric car was running between it and 
 the street. 
 
 "Why don t they set this out with flowers and 
 trees? As it is, it is unfit for children to play on." 
 
 The two men smiled, and looked at each other. 
 
 "You seem to be without work," she said, as 
 they went on. 
 
 "We have been without work for ten weeks, "the 
 tallest of them answered. 
 
 Mrs. Wright started back. "What is your occu 
 pation?" she asked. 
 
 "We are carpenters," the other one said. He 
 was shorter of stature, very dark, with an expres 
 sion of mirth in his eyes, as he watched the boy 
 bouncing before them. She liked his face, but it 
 seemed as if none of them were much inclined to 
 talk. 
 
 At last they stood in view of a park with shrub 
 bery and fine trees, and with bridges across an ar 
 tificial lake. 
 
 "How beautiful!" Mrs. Wright exclaimed. 
 
 "Yes. And we have paid for it," the tall man 
 said emphatically. His friend threw a quick glance 
 at him warning, it seemed to Mrs. Wright. 
 
24 A STORY FROM PULLM4NTOWN 
 
 "But it is too far off," she continued. "I can 
 not stand it to go there now. Why was it placed 
 there instead of in your midst? You have not in 
 your city a place where your wives or children can 
 sit and rest !" 
 
 "I suppose they knew why they placed it there," 
 the tall man answered with a short laugh, and 
 both men again looked meaningly at each other. 
 
 At the same moment a train came rushing by; 
 heads were seen through the open windows in the 
 cars, taking in the sight of the park. 
 
 As lightning the truth struck Mrs. Wright. 
 
 "Oh, I see why!" 
 
 "Of course," the two men said and nodded. It 
 seemed as if they were inclined to say more but 
 deemed it better not to. 
 
 As they turned to walk back again, Mrs. Wright 
 asked: "Are you Americans?" 
 
 She looked at the dark face closest to her, and 
 the answer came with a melodious voice, and a 
 twinkle in the eye, as if he was not sure what effect 
 his answer would have: 
 
 "No, Ma am; I am an Irishman and he is an 
 American." 
 
 Mrs. Wright turned her glance to the man tower 
 ing away over her, and a pair of honest blue eyes 
 
A SINISTER FIGURE 25 
 
 met hers; he was so light-complexioned that she 
 would have taken him for a Scandinavian, had not 
 his accent been so pure. 
 
 "Are you a Yankee, Sir?" 
 
 "If I said so, where I came from, they would 
 shoot me," he laughed. "I was born in Kentucky." 
 
 "Well, we may become better acquainted. My 
 husband has bought Mr. Dean s grocery-store, so 
 we have come to stay." 
 
 The men looked interested and were about to 
 reply, when Mrs. Wright said: 
 
 "It looks to me, as if a great many men all 
 around are without work." 
 
 At that moment steps which had been sounding 
 behind them at some distance, came nearer. 
 
 "We will let that man pass," the Irishman said 
 to his friend, and the two men made a halt and 
 went each to his side on the sidewalk, leaving a 
 wide space between them; there they stood silently 
 waiting, until a man dressed in a gray suit, like a 
 workingman s Sunday suit, had passed between 
 and walked on. 
 
 Mrs. Wright stood a few feet in front of them; 
 the man in gray passed close by her, quickening 
 his speed. His head was bent, his eyes fixed on 
 the ground; a queer, heavy-set, round-shouldered 
 
26 A STORY FROM PULLMANTOWN 
 
 figure it was, like some animal seeking the dust. 
 Mrs. Wright turned around, seeing the two men 
 each on his side of the walk, looking after the dis 
 appearing man with a sneer on their faces. As 
 answer to the bewildered astonishment speaking 
 from Mrs. Wright s face, the Irishman said: 
 "There are some people whom you like better to 
 have in front of you than behind you," after which 
 they resumed their walk. 
 
 The expression in their faces was so full of dis 
 dain, the whole performance so queer, that it 
 dumfounded Mrs. Wright. 
 
 "Good morning, Ma am," the Irishman said, 
 touching his hat, as they came near the street 
 where she had met her escorts. 
 
 She walked with her little boy by the hand along 
 the dusty streets, along those immense prison-like 
 structures closing over thousands of human lives, 
 and it suddenly seemed to her as if she was in a 
 city of prisons. Not a yard with flower-beds, not 
 a bit of bright color, not a bay window with a lace 
 curtain, not a balcony nor a cornice, nothing to 
 break the dead lines of those brick walls, which only 
 seemed to lack the iron bars behind the windows. 
 Yet the houses around the depot appeared to be 
 nice enough! 
 
UNIVERSITY 
 
 CALIFOK 
 
MISERY IN THE PARADISE 27 
 
 Before she came home, she knew that the ex 
 terior of this city was constructed on a fraud; now 
 it was left to find out about the interior. 
 
 It did not take long for Mr. Wright to discover 
 that the "friend" who had sold out to them had not 
 been much of a friend, as the conditions of this 
 place had been grossly misrepresented. 
 
 But now they were in it, and they tried to do 
 their best. It hurt them most to realize that they 
 were obliged to sell at much higher prices than 
 those prevailing in the neighboring districts, or they 
 could not make the difference in the rent. 
 
 It did not take Mr. Wright long to find out the 
 real truth: that here in this workingman s para 
 dise a great many families were at the border of 
 need. 
 
 A grocery-merchant knows without inquiring, in 
 what circumstances his customers are. One pound 
 of sugar and a quarter pound of coffee is enough to 
 mark that family down as being at least very much 
 straitened at the present. Each coming day was 
 a source of new surprise to him; not only that this 
 community was not well off after having for four 
 teen years been the home of some of the greatest 
 factories in the world, and while streams of gold 
 
28 A STORY FROM PULLMANTOWN 
 
 had flowed in this direction from all parts of the 
 United States, but it was as a whole on the border 
 
 of need. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 One bright and cold November afternoon the 
 Wright family was out for a walk. In front of 
 them a party of three was walking. Mrs. Wright 
 knew at the first glance the young man, who sup 
 ported a heavy old lady; it was the man from be 
 hind the newspaper on the train, and the young 
 lady was Miss Kean. 
 
 Earl bounced toward her, as soon as he knew 
 her, and a common introduction took place. They 
 were then informed that the young man s name 
 was Mr. Wallace, that he was a decorative painter 
 and boarded with Mrs. Kean. 
 
 They all walked together for a while, and Mrs. 
 Wright immediately fell in love with the old lady, 
 whose dignified manners betrayed a cultured mind, 
 and whose white curls spoke about years of experi 
 ence. 
 
 Mrs. Wright insisted on their spending the rest 
 of the evening together, and the evening dusk found 
 them all seated in Mr. Wright s parlor. 
 
 After supper, as Mrs. Wright came into the par 
 lor, she found Mr. Wallace looking at some illustra- 
 
AH EXPOSURE OF ROTTENNESS 29 
 
 tions of landscapes from all over the world. He 
 showed her a picture from Loch Ness. 
 
 "This is from my fatherland." 
 
 "Oh, you area Scotchman! I thought there 
 was something strange in your accent. For how 
 long a time have you lived in this country?" 
 
 "Eight years. Five of them I have spent in 
 Pullmantown. I worked for five years as decora 
 tive painter in Edinburgh and for two years in 
 Paris." 
 
 She seated herself by his side and said: "I have 
 never forgotten you, since I that day on the train 
 heard you say about the exposition that it was an 
 exposure of rottenness, unprecedented in the his 
 tory of nations. What did you mean by that?" 
 
 "It was the skill and brain, the very life-blood 
 of the workingman exhibited through the agency 
 of those who trample him under foot. It was a 
 wholesale robbery, which could not be punished, 
 because the thieves were too big. They set up an 
 incessant cry about all those wondrous chances 
 for labor to see and profit by seeing, while it was 
 a fact that the laborer sat in his home, bitter, de 
 spairing, without a cent for car-fare or for admit 
 tance fee." 
 
 "I thought the laborer made so much 
 
30 A STORY FROM PULLMANTOIVN 
 
 more money in the times previous to the Fair 
 that " 
 
 "Mrs. Wright, I know of thousands of honest men 
 and women in Chicago, who never were inside the 
 gates. And here in Pullmantown, those who did have 
 plenty of work during the first summer months, 
 had been without it for so long a time before, that 
 they were behind everywhere. When the rush of 
 work ceased, they were either cut down a dollar a 
 day or they were laid off. You might perhaps 
 say: Chicago was so overfilled by people from 
 the whole world, that there exceptional conditions 
 were reigning. Perhaps, but that was only one 
 reason more to have the gates thrown open to the 
 laborers, as all of them ought to see the sights, no 
 matter from where they came. Now, for instance, 
 from your city how many came to the World s 
 Fair? Twenty?" 
 
 "No. I don t think twenty came. I should say 
 ten or fifteen." 
 
 "And how many inhabitants?" 
 
 "Between 2,000 and 3,000." 
 
 "There, you see! Why did not this great nation 
 declare to itself: the means of transportation shall 
 be free to every man and woman whose income 
 does not exceed so and so much; and so shall the 
 gates of the Fair? Why did not the nation itself 
 
HOW THE FAIR WAS RUN 31 
 
 build hotels, the most convenient and cheap, to 
 accept all those who could riot afford to be sub 
 jected to the greed of private enterprise?" 
 
 "That may have been wrong; I have heard sev 
 eral say so. I suppose they did not understand 
 how to arrange it." 
 
 "I suppose not. But if they were not able to 
 undertake this task, why was it left to them ? Why 
 did we not see laborers as well as capitalists on 
 that committee for the exposition? If laborers had 
 been there, they would have looked out for the 
 interest of the laborers; the money of the cap 
 italist could look out for them. The exhibition 
 was ours; why were we left out from taking charge 
 
 of it? Just the same in the Woman s Building. 
 
 I will tell you what right labor had there. 
 A woman with a good name, but struggling 
 under a condition of combined circumstances, which 
 could not have been helped, and which was near 
 killing her and her family, came to the Woman s 
 Building, asking those women, who had received 
 the hundreds of thousands wherewith to run the 
 women s part of the Fair, for something to do on 
 their premises. She spoke seven languages, she 
 had been a public teacher, she was a practical wom 
 an, skilled in housework and handiwork they, 
 
32 A STORY FROM PULLMANTOWN 
 
 after many fruitless implorings, offered her a sit 
 uation in the French department; five hours 
 work, dusting show-cases, etc. Ten dollars a 
 month as pay." 
 
 Mrs. Wright dropped the album and almost cried : 
 "You must be mistaken!" 
 
 "I am not mistaken. I know her personally. I 
 was in her home in Chicago, when she came home 
 heartbroken and sat down by three little ones and 
 a husband weak from sickness and unemployed." 
 
 "I wonder that the very walls of the Woman s 
 Building did not tumble down while witnessing 
 such outrages!" 
 
 "I guess they have witnessed more than that," 
 he calmly answered. 
 
 Mr. Wright, who had been quietly listening from 
 his rocking-chair, came and took a seat by the 
 two who were talking. 
 
 "I will tell you, what I cannot understand, Mr. 
 Wallace. I, as a store-keeper, cannot help know 
 ing the circumstances of this place. Here are 
 people who have worked in these factories for ten, 
 thirteen years; to-day they are without money. 
 Where has it gone to? What is the cause of all 
 this?" 
 
 "When you have lived here one year longer, you 
 
NO CHANCE TO BUY A HOME 33 
 
 will be able to answer all such questions yourself. 
 But it takes time to see into this entangled web. 
 At all other places in the world, people are allowed 
 to buy their home and save the rent. You could 
 not buy a lot in Pullmantown, if you would cover 
 it with gold. For fourteen years the workingman 
 has been obliged to throw exorbitant amounts of 
 rent out of the window and still have no home; 
 while he under just circumstances with his steady 
 work would have paid for his home three times 
 during those years." 
 
 Here Miss Kean lifted her head from the photo 
 graphs of the Fair, at which she and her mother 
 were looking: 
 
 "Let me give you an example, Mrs. Wright. I 
 have lived in one house for eleven years, and have 
 paid $17.81 a month; that makes $213 72 a year. 
 This house did not cost over $600.00 to build; thus 
 I have paid for it almost four times." 
 
 "This is outrageous. Does then MR. HOARD 
 own every foot of ground here?" 
 
 "Every foot; the streets and alleys are his; he 
 can order us out of them, if he pleases. The whole 
 business is constructed on the basis of letting his 
 workingmen pay a hundredfold the value of the 
 swamp-land he bought. And it is not only the 
 
34 A STORY FROM P11LLMANTQWH 
 
 money question; but by being sovereign master of 
 every foot of ground, he can control all classes of in 
 habitants, he can hinder anybody s coming here, 
 who might be opposed to the spirit in which his 
 business is conducted. Instead of giving a place to a 
 school, or two places, as needed, he builds a school 
 and lets the city rent it. His word will have weight 
 in the choice of principal and teachers if not his, 
 then that of his hired outfit or of his friends." 
 
 Mr. Wright was silent. He thought of his lease, 
 subject to ten days notice. 
 
 "Almost eighteen dollars," Mrs. Wright said, 
 turning to Miss Kean again; "that is a high rent 
 for you and your mother." 
 
 "We never were used to a less convenient house; 
 there is not even a bathroom." 
 
 "No bathroom!" Mrs. Wright exclaimed, with 
 uplifted hands. 
 
 "The place is built upon the principle that the 
 workingman from the molding and melting shops, 
 from the brickyards and repair shops, from the dirt 
 and dust and perspiration, is not the one who needs 
 a bath on coming home. Such a luxury is for the 
 agents and bosses and managers of the company, 
 and for those of the merchants, teachers and doc 
 tors who can pay for it," Miss Kean said bitterly. 
 
WHY NOT MOYE AWAY? 85 
 
 "Does MR. HOARD furnish medical aid to his 
 employees?" 
 
 "Yes; Dr. Hunt is employed by him." 
 
 "That is at least one good thing." 
 
 "Hm it is very convenient for such a man to 
 have a doctor paid by himself. There might be 
 cases where an outside physician s assistance might 
 come rather unhandy," Mr. Wallace answered, as 
 Miss Kean kept silent. 
 
 It seemed to Mrs. Wright as if Miss Kean, who 
 until now had been flushed from excitement, turned 
 very pale, while her mother suddenly drew her at 
 tention to one of the plants in the window. 
 
 "But tell me," Mr. Wright said, "why do the 
 men not move away from this place and rent 
 houses in the neighboring districts, where they 
 can get them at reasonable rent or be allowed to 
 buy their own houses with the rent which here is 
 thrown away?" 
 
 "They have tried it in large numbers," Mr. Wal 
 lace answered. "But those who did move away 
 were laid off on the first occasion. It was not in 
 MR. HOARD S policy to pay for work which did not 
 allow a certain per cent to go back to his 
 pocket." 
 
 "They ought to have gone away by the hundreds, 
 
86 A STORY FROM PULLM4NTOWN 
 
 when they found out that there was not work 
 enough." 
 
 "How could they? The oldest and best workers 
 had as a rule through their simple way of living 
 saved a little money out of the millions they made 
 for MR. HOARD; that money was standing in MR. 
 HOARD S bank here in Pullmantown. As long 
 as it was known that a man had a little in the 
 bank, it was considered good policy to give him work 
 off and on, not lay him off entirely, and to give fair 
 promises about better times, as long as he had a 
 cent to spend on rent. And it takes a good deal 
 of money for a man with a family to break up and 
 go to a new place." 
 
 "The doctor s wife said to me the other day," 
 Mrs. Wright interrupted, "that it was very con 
 siderate in the company to divide the work among 
 the people these hard times, to give each one two 
 or three days work in the week, so as to be just 
 to all of them." 
 
 "Different views of the same matter," Mr. Wal 
 lace coolly said. "By giving each man two or three 
 days work, he just makes the rent; that is all 
 which they are after. MR. HOARD gets the value 
 of all his dirty walls, if the families inside them 
 starve; that is none of his business." 
 
THE B/tRRACKS 37 
 
 After her company had left that night, Mrs. 
 Wright was taken with a violent fit of weeping. 
 
 One cold December day Mrs. Wright was study 
 ing how to get her washing done. She had let her 
 girl go, as that kind of business, which they at 
 present were conducting, did not allow the keeping 
 of a girl. Her little boy had a severe cold from 
 walking the long distance to the only school at the 
 place; on account of him, she did not wish the 
 washing done in the house. 
 
 \Vhen she came down into the store, the tall 
 Kentuckian, with whom she the first day became 
 acquainted, was standing there. She liked him, 
 and usually spent some time in talking with him, 
 when she happened to come while he was in the 
 store. 
 
 "Could you, Mr. Johnson, tell me where to look 
 for a woman who would do my washing?" she 
 asked him. 
 
 "Go to the barracks, and you will find ten for 
 one. I guess they need it, all of them." 
 
 "The barracks! Where is that?" 
 
 "It is that tumble-down structure of thin walls 
 and poor timber, near the foundry block. A whole 
 
38 A STORY FROM PULLMANTOWN 
 
 block of it, with families huddled together in two 
 and three rooms." 
 
 After dinner Mrs. Wright went out on a search. 
 She found the barracks, and went in through the 
 first door to which she came. Up along the nar 
 row steps she crawled, and rapped at a door. A 
 man opened it, wiping his mouth, as if he had just 
 finished eating. He was a strong, muscular man, 
 with an open face, but he looked very thin. 
 
 On a lounge in the room a woman was sitting 
 with a baby on her lap; two little girls ran to her 
 from the table, when they saw the stranger. The 
 man found his hat, bid good-bye and disappeared. 
 
 Mrs. Wright could not refrain from scanning the 
 table, a! she passed it: sliced cold potatoes, salt, 
 bread, and a drop of black tea left in the cup! 
 
 Mrs. Wright felt her heart sink. 
 
 This was the dinner of an American workingman ! 
 
 She seated herself by the side of the woman on 
 the lounge, and tried with tremulous voice to tell 
 her errand and introduce herself. 
 
 It was a young woman with a pair of brave 
 brown eyes and a decided voice. 
 
 "But I see you have three babies; you are not 
 able to do any washing," Mrs. Wright added, after 
 she had told her errand. 
 
A WORKWOMAN S DINNER 39 
 
 "Yes, let me do it. I can, and I shall do it so 
 as to please you," the young mother said eagerly. 
 
 Mrs. Wright felt tears starting to her eyes. 
 
 "You must excuse me," she said, pointing to the 
 table, "but I noticed this is is it common for you 
 to have such a meal?" 
 
 The mother put her baby down on the floor and 
 looked full at the stranger. 
 
 "I am not ashamed of our circumstances; it is 
 no fault of ours. I will tell you frankly how we 
 are situated. My husband has been without work 
 for fifteen weeks. Now he got two weeks work 
 and they wanted the money in the bank for rent. 
 I must be glad if I can give him to eat, what you 
 see there." 
 
 "But why did you not refuse to pay the rent? 
 You have got to live." 
 
 "If a man refuses to pay his rent, the bank- 
 officials will write on the back of his check: Did 
 not pay the rent. And that man will be laid off 
 inside a few days." 
 
 "Oh, what a kitchen floor!" Mrs. Wright said. 
 "How can you ever keep it clean?" 
 
 "I cannot. It is made of lumber so soft that 
 you can pick it to pieces." 
 
 Mrs. Wright looked at the walls painted a light 
 gray, but now black with dirt. 
 
40 A STORY FROM PULLMANTOWN 
 
 "What do you pay here?" 
 
 "Nine dollars for three rooms. We have lived 
 here for eighteen months. Last fall I begged Mr. 
 Horn to have the rooms cleaned, but he refused, 
 though we have paid the rent all the time. We 
 were forced to pay three dollars for a broken basin, 
 which had been broken maybe ten years before we 
 moved in." 
 
 "Why did you submit to it?" 
 
 "It was deducted from our check. Two window 
 panes were broken, when we moved in; the wom 
 an next door can prove that. The agent wanted 
 us to pay for them, too, but I told him, if we should 
 have to do without them while we lived here, we 
 would not pay for them." She pointed out in the 
 yard. "There you see my only chemise on the 
 line; I have to go without it while it dries." 
 
 "What is your husband s trade?" 
 
 "He is a carpenter. He has to pay for his tools 
 himself. They are very dear. If one is broken, 
 there goes almost half a week s pay." 
 
 "What nationality are you?" 
 
 "Americans; born in Michigan, both of us. I 
 never knew what poverty was, till I came to this 
 place. If I wanted ten cents, I could go to the 
 pocket-book. Now I have to go to a neighbor 
 and run my face for it." 
 
TALKED THE SITUATION OYER 41 
 
 "And those little ones "Mrs. Wright slowly said, 
 and stroked the baby s hair. 
 
 Here the mother broke down; the scornful ex 
 pression gave way to one of sorrow: "That is the 
 hardest. Such a Christmas I never lived!" 
 
 That afternoon Mrs. Wright went to the home of 
 one of the other merchants, Mr. Hill s, and had a 
 talk with his wife. Mrs. Hill told just the same 
 tales. "Our books are filled with bad debts from 
 people who always used to pay their bills, and they 
 are suffering here by the hundreds," she said. 
 
 The two ladies talked the situation over. It 
 would not do to go home to a warm room, a 
 steaming tea-kettle and a well-filled table, know 
 ing that all around people were sitting in dirty 
 houses, with half-filled stomachs, little of coal and 
 no prospects whatever. Mrs. Hill did not seem 
 inclined to take any standpoint as to the cause of 
 the suffering; she did not appear capable of rising 
 above the line of charity, but as that seemed the 
 only available help at present, Mrs. Wright was 
 satisfied. 
 
 Mrs. Hill was a member of one of the churches, 
 and the two ladies went to see the minister s wife. 
 Here they found one of the teachers from the 
 school, who had come to tell tales of suffering be 
 trayed through her pupils. 
 
42 A STORY FROM PULLMANTO1VN 
 
 The next day a meeting was called at the min 
 ister s home, consisting of the wives of the other 
 ministers, the teachers, the wives of the store 
 keepers, physicians; all the prominent women 
 were there, except the wives of the managers, 
 bank-officials, superintendents, and the other 
 agents of MR. HOARD. 
 
 Within a week the ladies of Pullmantown were 
 in correspondence with "The Ladies Aid Society" 
 in Chicago. 
 
 "The Ladies Aid Society" sent out their officers 
 to examine the conditions, and it was resolved to 
 establish a branch of the society at this place. 
 
 Rumors of these proceedings came to the ears 
 of the wife of one of the managers, and informa 
 tion about them was carried to MR. HOARD in his 
 princely mansion in the East. 
 
 A short time after, the ladies were informed that 
 it was absolutely against the wish of MR. HOARD 
 to have a society by that name established in Pull 
 mantown. His workingmen were not destitute, 
 and he would not tolerate any such thing as an 
 "Aid Society" on his premises. 
 
 The ladies did not give up the work, but they 
 changed the name to "The Ladies Mission," and 
 after this their doings were tolerated or ignored by 
 higher authorities. 
 
THEIR DOINGS WERE TOLERATED 43 
 
 For two months this society kept up seventy 
 families, settling their grocery and meat bills every 
 two weeks. After this the means were partly ex 
 hausted, as this winter brought great suffering to 
 all neighboring districts. 
 
 At one of the last meetings of the society one of 
 the ladies said: "We cannot wonder at the destitu 
 tion in our midst, as we see the same all around us." 
 
 "I don t think you are right in this view," Mrs. 
 Wright said. "This community is different from 
 any other I know of. No tramps or idlers have 
 come loafing to fill up our streets. Those men 
 have earned the millions of MR, HOARD. If 
 they had had the just part of their earnings, 
 they would have been able to stand three or four 
 years like this. Let them now get some of those 
 millions to live on, until there in some way is 
 effected a change in the present conditions 
 though we do not believe MR. HOARD S state 
 ments at all, when he claims to be running his 
 business at a loss." 
 
 As "The Mission" little by little had to give up 
 its work, the conditions were rapidly turning to the 
 
 worse. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 The longer the winter lasted, the colder it be 
 came, and thus the suffering increased. 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
44 A STORY FROM PULLMANTOWN 
 
 Mrs. Wright was in the habit of taking her little 
 boy to school every morning, to be sure that he 
 would not, child-like, saunter along and get too 
 cold. 
 
 Later in the day she went to the store. She 
 could not stay at home; her mind was occupied with 
 her surroundings all the time; and in the store 
 there would be plenty of information from all parts 
 of the town. 
 
 It was an exceedingly cold day; the windows 
 were covered with frost, though the big stove was 
 running at its fullest capacity. Several men sat 
 around on barrels and boxes. They were laid off, 
 and came here to talk together and get the news 
 of the day. 
 
 An elderly man came in, rubbing his hands. It was 
 Mr. Hart, a German, who worked in the foundry. 
 Mrs. Wright had enjoyed many a conversation 
 with him. His small, light-blue eyes twinkled with 
 the humor which fills the North-German Volks- 
 lieder. There was something genuine in his quick 
 manners and concise way of expressing himself, 
 v/hich made one never tired of his company. 
 
 To-day he, against the rule, seemed downcast. 
 He stamped his feet and unbuttoned his overcoat, 
 while ordering some butter, cheese and tea. 
 
A CUT OF FIFTEEN CENTS 45 
 
 "Did you get the honey I spoke about?" he re 
 luctantly asked Mr. Wright. 
 
 "No. It has not arrived yet." 
 
 "I don t think I can take it. I am sorry." 
 
 "Never mind, Mr. Hart; I will keep it." 
 
 "Are you laid off, Mr. Hart?" Mrs. Wright in 
 quired. 
 
 "To-day I am; I hope, though, to commence 
 again soon. But we had a cut of fifteen cents 
 yesterday." 
 
 "A cut! I thought you said you had one during 
 the summer." 
 
 "So we had, Ma am. We were cut one dollar 
 in July, and the boss said then that we would not 
 be cut any more." 
 
 "How much have you now?" 
 
 "$i.6o, But it is very hard work, and it is dan 
 gerous work, too. I have been burned twice." 
 
 "You have! How did that happen?" 
 
 "The last time was the worst. I was at work 
 with an ignorant Pole. If there is one drop of 
 water on the skimmer, the melted iron will run all 
 over. He took no care, and poured a stream of 
 iron from my neck down to my ankle." 
 
 Mrs. Wright shuddered. 
 
 "Yes, it was terrible. I was laid up for about 
 a month." 
 
46 A STORY FROM PULLMJNTOH N 
 
 "Did they pay you any damage?" 
 
 "They paid my wages while I was sick; that 
 was all." 
 
 "How did your boss seem to feel about cutting 
 your wages?" 
 
 "I believe he was sorry, but did not dare to show 
 it. The other boss we had was a fine man, a gen 
 tleman. He had been here for eleven years, and 
 he left because he could not stand the cuts in our 
 wages. This one would be kind too, if he was 
 allowed to. I could tell he felt bad, as he came in 
 with the paper yesterday. I suppose you have 
 heard of the cut, he said. 
 
 lli l have. That s the way you treat us. You 
 promised the last time that our wages should not 
 come down any more. Then you take advantage 
 of us, when hard winter is on us, and you know 
 we have no way of bettering ourselves. 
 
 " You know, John, I cannot help it; I have to 
 do as I am instructed, he said, and I could see 
 the fellow did feel sorry. The hardest on me was 
 to go home and tell my wife about it," the German 
 finished, while he picked up his packages. 
 
 That night Mrs, Wright wrote to Mr. Wallace 
 and Miss Kean, and asked them to come to her 
 house to-morrow night if possible. 
 
IF THEY WOULD STAND UP 47 
 
 As the two the next evening sat down together 
 in the parlor Mrs. Wright said: "I wanted to find 
 out from your past experience here, and from your 
 fuller knowledge of the present conditions, can 
 really nothing be done to change this state of 
 affairs? People seem to quietly submit to this ex 
 istence; if they would stand up as a body " 
 
 Miss Kean and Mr. Wallace looked meaningly 
 at each other; then Mr. Wallace jumped from his 
 seat and leaned against the table in front of Mrs. 
 Wright. 
 
 "Is it not strange how different people, witfiout 
 knowing it, can resolve to do the same thing, be 
 cause the course of events has brought things to a 
 turn which decidedly asks for this one action? 
 Last night I was with one man from the uphol 
 stery department and one from the brass shops, 
 and we decided on trying once more to organize 
 the working-people of this place." 
 
 Mrs, Wright jumped up too: "That is just 
 what has been in my mind for several days" 
 
 "Pardon me," he said, laying his hand over hers; 
 "I want to tell you first* that at the same moment 
 as I was at work for this, Miss Kean, without 
 knowing my intentions, had three girls from the 
 laundry in her room, talking the same question up 
 with them." 
 
48 A STORY FROM PULLM4NTOlfN 
 
 Mrs. Wright turned to Miss Kean, who sat with 
 her hands clasped quietly in her lap, but that faint 
 flush, which made her very skin speak, and that 
 luster in her eyes, which beautified her whole be 
 ing, were slowly rising. 
 
 Mrs. Wright laid her arm around the girl s shoul 
 der and kissed her. 
 
 Then she turned to Mr. Wallace again: "I do 
 not wonder at the women, as we women have 
 been so used to having no place in social construc 
 tion; but you men why have you remained un 
 organized during all these years, helpless single 
 individuals, exposed to any kind of treatment?" 
 
 "We have tried to organize before this. We 
 have tried it twice. But the bosses had their spies 
 among us, and our efforts were reported to head 
 quarters. The leaders were Maid off, not to come 
 back to work again all except a few. I was one 
 of the few, because they did not wish to spare me. 
 The decorative painters have had their union all 
 the time, and nobody dared to object; they could 
 not do without us. You know our work is almost 
 art. But as soon as we tri&d to establish unions 
 among the rest, the movement was cut off. They 
 did not dare to forbid the unions, so they did not 
 discharge the leaders. They simply laid them off 
 for ever." 
 
LAID THEM OFF FOREVER 49 
 
 "But they could not May off all the men." 
 
 "No, now you come to the point, if the men had 
 all agreed, they could not so easily have fought us. 
 But you will see, the time has come." 
 
 "While I remember it," Miss Kean said, "I warn 
 you to be careful, Mrs. Wright. We are sur 
 rounded by spies, and will be still more." 
 
 Mrs. Wright nodded; she remembered the man 
 whom the two other men allowed so wide a space 
 for passing between them. 
 
 "For instance," Miss Kean went on, "I saw you 
 yesterday talking to Mary Hall in the store; I felt 
 as if I stood on coals, and I could not get you to 
 look at me. She is one of the dollar girls, be 
 cause she is a friend of the boss s wife, and so is 
 Miss Steele, because she was recommended by one 
 of the other foremen. You cannot be too careful." 
 
 "Now let us consider what has to be done," Mr. 
 Wallace said. "Miss Kean will take care of the few 
 girls in the electric department, and she, together 
 with two of the girls in the laundry, will organize 
 those in the laundry department; we can count on 
 them all, with the exception, perhaps, of some of 
 the * dollar-girls. I have a man for the upholstery 
 department and for the brass-shops. Then there 
 is a German, a very intelligent fellow; he has 
 
50 A STORY FROM PULLM4NTOWN 
 
 studied in Munich and is one of the finest machin 
 ists and locksmiths in the country, but he is retired, 
 and regards the American workingman with an ap 
 proach to contempt; his wages have been cut and 
 re-cut, and he does not stand much. If we could get 
 hold of him, he would take every German on the 
 place, and all those from Switzerland and Austria. 
 But I dare not go to see him, as I feel certain 
 that my steps are watched." 
 
 "I will go to him," Mrs. Wright said. "I know 
 him. I had a long talk with him on Heinrich 
 Heine and Ferdinand LaSalle some time ago. He 
 is a declared Socialist. He is eloquent, when it 
 takes him, and has a great deal of feeling, too." 
 
 "Well, I will leave him to you, then. Next, we 
 must have somebody for the Scandinavians. We 
 have here both Danes, Swedes and Norwegians. 
 They are slow people, especially the Danes and 
 Norwegians; it is a hard task to get their ear, but 
 if once you have it, you will keep it. They are of a 
 steadfast character. There is a Swede, a tall, gaunt 
 fellow with a face like an eagle s; he used to work 
 in the foundry and was a first-class molder, too. 
 He is especially enraged, as he has been treated 
 with an amount of injustice uncommon even here. 
 But I should not dare to approach him either, for 
 fear of giving us away too early." 
 
ORGANIZING THE WORKERS 51 
 
 "I will take him too," Mrs. Wright declared. 
 
 "He lives in the barracks, in the rear, with an old 
 Swedish widow, who keeps boarders. His name 
 is Erik, I think Erik Swanson." 
 
 "I shall find him." 
 
 "Now it strikes me, "Mr. Wallace exclaimed, 
 "there is an Italian painter, a fine fellow of poet 
 ical inclinations; we are on friendly terms. I shall 
 work him up and let him take all the Italians in 
 the dens by the brick-yard in his charge." 
 
 "And I know a Pole, who works in the brick 
 yard," Mrs. Wright said. "He has been laid off 
 for a couple of months, and I gave him a basket 
 of provisions for his children, the last time he was 
 here. He speaks better English than most of his 
 countrymen and has been in this country for many 
 years. I am going to try what he can do among 
 the Poles. Miss Kean, we shall rely entirely on 
 you as far as the girls in the different departments 
 are concerned." 
 
 "No, not on me. By no means. I am no 
 speaker at all, and very little of an agitator." 
 
 "Your person and your life among them will be 
 the best kind of agitation, as soon as they under 
 stand that you are in it," Mr. Wallace said warmly. 
 
 "Perhaps. I almost think so myself; but as an 
 organizer I shall rely on Miss Welsh." 
 
52 A STORY FROM PULLMANTOWN 
 
 "I never yet was exactly posted on your circum 
 stances," Mrs. Wright said. "I only know that 
 you work in the electric department, and I might 
 almost have guessed so. What are your wages?" 
 
 "Ninety-one cents a day." 
 
 Mrs. Wright started back. "I thought you said 
 once that your rent amounted to $17.81 !" 
 
 "So it does. When that is paid, there is seven 
 dollars left for my mother and myself for a month s 
 living. We could not exist, if my brother in Col 
 orado, who is a well-to-do engineer, did not send 
 us money." 
 
 Mrs. Wright folded her hands before her, unable 
 to speak. 
 
 "Miss Kean, may I tell your history?" Mr. Wal 
 lace quietly inquired. 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 He turned to Mrs. Wright. "Eight years ago 
 Miss Kean s father was employed by MR. HOARD 
 as watchman by that gate, which governs the en 
 trance to the shops near the depot. One day a 
 carpenter came with a box of tools under his arm. 
 Mr. Kean asked him for his pass, as it was against 
 the rules to allow anybody to carry tools from the 
 premises without showing a pass. The carpenter 
 answered that he had none. Mr. Kean told him 
 
DIED AT HIS POST 53 
 
 to leave the tools until to-morrow and then get a 
 pass. 
 
 "The man became so enraged, that he struck 
 Mr. Kean with the hatchet in the face and felled 
 him to the ground. 
 
 "Mr. Kean was in an unconscious condition car 
 ried to his home, and it took three weeks before he 
 again got the power of speech. He got up and 
 dragged around, but was never able to work after 
 ward, and died at last from the effects of the blow." 
 "And MR. HOARD, what did he do?" 
 "Nothing. The doctor-bill was paid and his 
 wages were paid for two weeks after he was struck." 
 "Please, Mr. Wallace, don t say so!" Mrs. 
 Wright cried, hardly knowing what she said. "Say 
 that MR. HOARD was never informed of the circum 
 stances!" 
 
 "He was. First the widow went to his agents, 
 managers, superintendents, and what all their 
 names are but they shook their heads; they could 
 do nothing. Then the minister of the church to 
 which Mrs. Kean belongs, wrote twice to MR. 
 HOARD, stating the facts in full and registering the 
 letters, but no answer ever came. Since then Miss 
 Kean has been paying him twice the value of his 
 house, nay, more than that, has practically given 
 
54 A STORY FROM PULLMANTOWN 
 
 him all her time those eight years for the pitiful 
 seven dollars a month." 
 
 Mrs. Wright had turned white. 
 
 "It is almost a sin to tell you " here Miss 
 Kean was interrupted by Mrs. Wright slowly strok 
 ing her hair. 
 
 "Never mind me!" she said; then she glided 
 toward the door and disappeared into the other 
 room. 
 
 She walked as in a dream to her bedroom. 
 
 Involuntarily she sought the bed, in which her 
 little boy was sleeping; she laid her cheek against 
 his for a moment; then she went to the window. 
 
 She raised her hands toward the star-lit sky. 
 "Oh, Lord of life and love, in whom I believe 
 how long? How long?" 
 
 When she after a while returned to the parlor, 
 she saw Mr. Wallace bending over Miss Kean as 
 if supporting her. He moved quickly away on hear 
 ing her steps. 
 
 Miss Kean arose and went to Mrs. Wright. 
 
 "You looked so full of rest and peace, when you 
 came to live in our midst, Mrs. Wright, that it 
 pains me to see how much suffering you have to 
 meet with here. That thought checked me the 
 first evening I was in your house. You remember 
 
AGAIN AT THE BARRACKS 55 
 
 we spoke of the physician here being an employee 
 of MR. HOARD S. I came near stating how little a 
 physician knew his true duties, but I felt as if I 
 wanted to spare you. You were happier before 
 you came here." 
 
 "I may have been happier in some ways. But 
 I would not have my blindness back again for 
 anything. Let us look truth full in the face and 
 
 then get up and work." 
 
 * * * * 
 
 The next forenoon Mrs. Wright went to the bar 
 racks. Slowly she ascended the narrow stairway, 
 thinking of how many miserable existences were 
 hidden in this structure, which was erected by 
 selfishness and kept up by greed. She heard voices 
 from the first floor; a man was standing in an open 
 door. 
 
 "Well, when will you pay it?" he said sharply. 
 
 "Whenever we get work the rent will be paid," 
 an angry voice, apparently a woman s, answered 
 from within. 
 
 Mrs. Wright hurried past and up to the second 
 floor. Upon her knocking at the door, it was 
 opened by a tall, lean fellow, who looked as if he 
 had been too loosely jointed together; his trousers 
 were hanging from his hips, and his shoulders were 
 slightly bent. 
 
56 A STORY FROM PULLM/1NTOWN 
 
 The narrow, beardless face with the sharp feat 
 ures had a strong resemblance to a bird. 
 
 "Is your name Mr. Swanson?" 
 
 "Yes, Ma am." 
 
 "I should like to have a moment s talk with you." 
 
 He looked suspiciously at her and went ahead of 
 her to a room, looking back, as if he felt uneasy 
 about her presence. A well-kept room it was, 
 bedspread and towels white as snow, pictures, em 
 broideries and quaint vases speaking of a better 
 home far off in the old country. This room must 
 be the widow s room and the best in the house, 
 Mrs. Wright thought. On the floor was a rug of 
 small velvet and plush pieces, such as might be 
 left over in the upholstery department. 
 
 He stood and looked at her without offering her 
 any seat; so she sat down on the bed. 
 
 "I came to see you about yourself and about the 
 rest of the suffering workingmen here." 
 
 His face remained as immobile as if the reddish 
 features were cast in bronze; life was only visible 
 in his eyes, which were fixed on her with a scrutin 
 izing, half suspicious, half astonished look. 
 
 "My name is Mrs. Wright, store-keeper Wright s 
 wife." 
 
 Immediately his countenance cleared; he came 
 nearer and leaned against the foot of the bed. 
 
He stood and looked at her without offering her any seat; so she 
 sat down on the bed. Page 56, 
 
ONE OF THE INMATES 57 
 
 "Oh, I know you now." 
 
 "For how long a time have you been without 
 work, Mr. Swanson?" 
 
 "I have only had work four weeks during the 
 last year." 
 
 "How did you ever manage to live?" 
 
 "I sent to Sweden for $300.00 which I had stand 
 ing there, and when I had lived that up, took out 
 $100.00 that I had standing in MR. HOARD S bank. 
 Now that is lived up too." 
 
 "I wonder that you stayed here and lived it up, 
 instead of going somewhere else." 
 
 "You see, as long as I had any money they kept 
 on promising me work. So I waited and waited, 
 because I did not like to leave the old lady with 
 whom I am boarding. She has nothing to rely on 
 except what she makes from us three Swedish boys, 
 who are boarding with her. I have bought two 
 lots six miles from Chicago, and have paid $250 
 on them; now I shall lose them too." 
 
 "That is too bad! How did you come to buy 
 them?" 
 
 "Our boss talked me into it myself and several 
 others; I suppose he made a fair commission on 
 them. He kept on telling us to buy them, and 
 we should be sure of steady work. A short time 
 
53 A STORY FROM PULLM4NTOWN 
 
 after, I was laid off, and so were the others in turn. 
 If I had those $250 now!" 
 
 "Mr. Swanson, were you ever in any kind of 
 union or society?" 
 
 "I am in The Helping Hand, a Swedish help 
 ing-society. The sick members get five dollars a 
 week for five weeks; but I have never been sick." 
 
 "Where you came from in Sweden, was there 
 no union in which workingmen could stand as a 
 body, not only for the sake of sickness and death, 
 but for the sake of their struggle in life? So that 
 they all as one man could stand up and ask for 
 wages which they could live on, and for time 
 enough to rest in, that they might not be worn out 
 in their youth?" 
 
 He shook his head. "I never knew of any. 
 They may be there now, but I don t know about 
 it." 
 
 "Don t you think there might be more hope of 
 bettering your circumstances, if you all stood to 
 gether as one?" 
 
 "I should think so," he slowly answered, as if 
 struggling to follow the thought. 
 
 "We are going to try what can be done, as these 
 conditions must not continue. We are going to 
 come together and talk it over, and help each 
 
BRING HIM WITH YOU 59 
 
 other. We want you, too; they say you are a good 
 worker, and you must be a reliable character, since 
 you have saved your money. Will you come to 
 my home Saturday night? You will meet friends 
 there." 
 
 He looked hesitatingly up and down at her dress, 
 her bonnet and gloves. 
 
 "You can go to the store; that will be the best. 
 You know, we must be careful." 
 
 He nodded decidedly, as if commencing to com 
 prehend. 
 
 "I shall be there, and Ma am, I have a friend, 
 a Dane; he knows more about such things than I 
 do." 
 
 "Bring him with you; that is right!" 
 
 From there she went to the home of Christian 
 Dieterle, the German machinist. 
 
 She found him at home, as he was laid off for 
 some days. His face was lit up with delight, as 
 he opened the door and knew her. He ran to the 
 kitchen door and called his wife, introducing Mrs. 
 Wright to her. 
 
 Soon all three were seated in the parlor, while 
 two little girls sat in the bedroom playing with 
 dollies. 
 
 Mr. Dieterle was a Bavarian, with the lively feat- 
 
60 A STORY FROM PULUAAKTOWH 
 
 ures and quick movements of the race from this 
 land of sun and of beautiful scenery. He had 
 during his youth traveled through all Europe and 
 was a well-read man. His wife had once been a 
 beauty, but a care-worn look made her appear older 
 than he. 
 
 Mrs. Wright commenced talking about the con 
 dition of labor in the old country compared with 
 this. 
 
 She evidently struck a sore point. 
 
 Mr. Dieterle jumped from his chair and paced 
 the floor. 
 
 "The wage-earners in the old country are much 
 better off than here. I have no regard for the 
 
 American workingman Excuse me, Ma am," 
 
 as he noticed a pained expression in Mrs. Wright s 
 face, "I do not wish to hurt your feelings, nor do 
 I say it lightly. If we in Germany had had your 
 laws and your institutions to build our work on, 
 why, we should have had a country of liberty and 
 equality never yet seen on the earth. Think of what 
 obstructions the German workingmen have had to 
 fight against, and look at them to-day: a consol 
 idated mass, feeling all as one, educating them 
 selves, incessantly drilling themselves to the fight 
 which is on, and which never will cease until we 
 

 TRAINING A NEW GENERATION 61 
 
 have gained the victory! Imagine us under our 
 tyrannical government sending Socialists to the 
 Reichstag!" 
 
 "I know you are right. I realize it with humil 
 iation. But remember, you have been suppressed 
 for so long, but here " 
 
 "That is it ! Here they could make a fairly good 
 living, and with this they contented themselves, like 
 ignorant children. I have tried time and again to 
 associate myself with the American workingman, 
 tried it with honest efforts, but I have no use for 
 him. And every one who is trained in the old 
 country labor-school will tell you the same. Why, 
 take only the Socialistic literature scattered broad 
 cast over the country in spite of the government s 
 vigilance. We are training a new generation in 
 the study of national economy, teaching them to 
 take care of their physical self without help from 
 doctor or druggist, raising them as rational beings, 
 who do not sell their souls to any church, but 
 reason for themselves. What are you doing?" 
 
 "No. You are right. With us this work is go 
 ing on in the educated middle class, not among the 
 laborers. But, Mr. Dieterle, the time is ripe now. 
 I will not give up my faith in the manhood of the 
 American laborer. So much has been taking up 
 
62 A STORY FROM PULLMAKTOWN 
 
 their attention in this great, partly uncultivated 
 and partly unorganized country, that they have 
 forgotten to look to themselves as a body; they 
 have prospered individually, until the universal in 
 justice in the construction of society is crushing 
 them too. Now they will listen, and that is what 
 I came to see you about." 
 
 Before she left, she saw Mrs. Dieterle with her 
 hands midway on the table, and Mr. Dieterle pac 
 ing the room quicker than ever. 
 
 They both of them decided to join the meeting 
 at Mr. Wright s house Saturday evening. 
 * * * * 
 
 It was past ten o clock Saturday evening, as Mr. 
 Wright closed his store after having put the last 
 boxes and baskets in order, and ascended the 
 stairs to his living rooms. As he opened the door, 
 he met a spectacle unusual in their house. Parlor 
 and dining-room were thrown in one, chairs were 
 brought in from bedrooms and kitchen, and every 
 available place was taken up. His wife was stand 
 ing talking to Miss Welsh from the laundry de 
 partment. As she turned toward him, he saw that 
 her face was flushed with tears. 
 
 And Miss Welsh seemed agitated too. 
 
CHARITY SUBSTITUTED FOR JUSTICE 63 
 
 Men with hard, brown hands and men with fin 
 gers like a lady s, figures bent from hard work and 
 quick, intellectual looking men, young girls frail 
 and nervous looking, and older ones fraught with 
 a care which heightened the expression of charac 
 ter in their faces, filled the room. In the middle 
 of it was a woman with snowy white hair, sitting 
 like a grandmother for all. It was Mrs. Kean. 
 
 Mr. Wallace was talking with Mr. Dieterle, and 
 Miss Kean had seated herself between the gaunt 
 Swede and his friend the Dane. 
 
 Mrs. Wright talked with her husband for a few 
 moments, after which she went to Mr. Wallace. 
 
 Mr. Wallace went to the table in the middle of 
 the room. 
 
 "Friends! Here we have come together. May 
 it not be in vain! For months men and women at 
 this place have lived from charity. Our fate we 
 have in common with the rest of the world. 
 Those who have the power to take the laws in 
 their hands, have substituted charity for justice. 
 Wherever an organism has outlived itself and is 
 not removed and buried, it decays and poisons the 
 air. 
 
 "Thus charity, the dead factor from an outlived 
 society, is to-day filling the world with foulness, 
 
64 A STORY FROM PULLM4NTOUSN 
 
 and poisoning the life of human beings, who do 
 not get up and remove it. 
 
 "Let us begin our work together by denouncing 
 the idea of chanty, and when it is wiped out of 
 existence, let us stand on the cleared ground, look 
 ing each other in the face, asking each other what 
 is next to be done. I know what I think ought to 
 be done; now I want to know if you think the 
 same. Will any of you tell us what thoughts the 
 last years in Pullmantown may have brought to 
 you?" 
 
 From behind the stove the tall Kentuckian 
 arose. 
 
 "That is right," Mr. Wallace exclaimed; "we 
 want to hear an American!" 
 
 "I am no speaker," Mr. Johnson said, with a 
 slight shaking of his voice; "I only want to say a 
 few words, but they come from my heart. 
 
 "We workingmen are in a situation unworthy of 
 men; but in one way it is only just; we reap what 
 we have sowed. We were satisfied as long as we 
 had our three meals a day and a bed to sleep in. 
 If they gave us that, we did not ask what they 
 did with the rest. We left a small minority to 
 make the laws for us and for our children. 
 
 "It is hard for a man to get down on the bare 
 
WANT TO ORGANIZE AT ANY COST 65 
 
 ground; but if that may help him to stand up and 
 beome a man, the price paid is not too high. I 
 am here to-night to say from the carpenters, that 
 they want to organize at any cost. As many as 
 have work say they are willing to run the risk of 
 losing their job, rather than to remain unorganized 
 any longer. 
 
 "But we are inexperienced; some of you must 
 come and help us." 
 
 There was silence for a while, after he had sat 
 down. Then a fine-looking man who had been 
 leaning against the door-post and with deep inter 
 est following every word, made his way through 
 the room. It was Mr. Dieterle, the German 
 machinist. 
 
 "I am glad to know that you are an American 
 workingman," he said, heartily shaking the hand 
 of the big Kentuckian. 
 
 Then representatives from the molders and up 
 holsterers arose and announced that their men 
 wanted to organize, and those of them who yet had 
 money were willing to pay the expenses. 
 
 "I am a man without family, "Mr. Wallace said. 
 "I am willing to spend my last cent in behalf of a 
 betterment of the conditions existing here." 
 
 Miss Kean looked at him, until her gaze at- 
 
66 A STORY FROM PULLMANTOWN 
 
 tracted his attention. She then sent him an ear 
 nest nod. 
 
 "I am with you up to half of my property, if I 
 then could see you people organized," Mr. Wright 
 declared. 
 
 Mrs. Wright left her place and went to her hus 
 band s side. 
 
 It was decided to hold another meeting next 
 Saturday, and then have every one of the factories 
 and shops represented. 
 
 Miss Welsh told about the gross injustice taking 
 place in the laundry. Girls working side by side, 
 doing the same work with the same ability, were 
 paid So cents, 91 cents or a dollar, just as it suited 
 the foreman to put the price. She deplored the 
 demoralizing effect this way of doing business natu 
 rally would have on the girls; still she knew that 
 a great majority of them would be in for organi 
 zation. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 February had come, with its short, sunless days 
 and long evenings, those evenings so highly valued 
 by those who can gather around their books and 
 papers in warm and cozy rooms. 
 
 In Mrs. Wright s parlor the light from the gas 
 and from the shining windows in the store tried to 
 make one forget the cold outside. 
 
THOUGHTS THAT A PICTURE BROUGHT 67 
 
 This room, in contrast with the common 
 American merchant-home, had its walls lined with 
 books. There were only a few pictures on the 
 walls, fine engravings most of them. One of them 
 represented the Aral Sea. Two flamingoes were 
 the only living beings; they were standing in the 
 water surrounded by rushes; around them were sky 
 and water meeting each other, gliding together in 
 a silent embrace; the picture might as well repre 
 sent eternal rest. 
 
 Miss Kean was sitting in one of the rocking- 
 chairs. She was alone in the room. She had 
 been reading, but now her book lay in her lap, and 
 her eyes sought the picture in front of her. 
 
 It seemed to pour rest into her soul, and she felt 
 for a moment as if she needed rest, harmony, peace 
 needed for a moment to leave behind her the 
 struggle and suffering, the bitterness and despair, 
 which usually met her. How good, how grand of 
 character, how wide-seeing and how near the ideal 
 type of man those ought to be who lived in har 
 monious surroundings! she thought with a sigh. 
 What a race of men and women we would get, 
 if there were houses with marble steps, paintings 
 on the walls, no leaking faucets and plenty of ap 
 ples upon the table! And most of all, if there was 
 
68 A STORY FROM PULLM/1NTOWN 
 
 no more any uncertainty about the coming day, 
 if in sickness or old age or death, no matter what 
 might happen, every human being knew that 
 the privilege of a truly human life was theirs! 
 
 Sometimes it seemed so hopeless. The worst 
 was not the daily sufferings for the necessity of 
 life; the worst was the waste of strength which 
 might have gone to form a better race. 
 
 The intellect, the energy, the true manhood of 
 which she every day saw traces among those work- 
 ingmen and their wives to what could it have 
 been developed, had not every passing day done 
 its share to crush it? Poverty ties the soul to the 
 dust. Here was a community where during four 
 teen years no food for man s intellect had been 
 found. How superior human mind must be, if 
 men can pass through the ordeal of such fourteen 
 years and not entirely lose the stamp of manhood! 
 
 A library such a mockery ! A fraud like all the 
 rest! Three dollars a year as a fee from men who 
 needed every penny; and then, what old, antiquated 
 reading did it contain ! The rulers of this place 
 took care that nothing which might encourage 
 genuine thinking came within those walls. 
 
 Lectures! Once in a while a Republican lec 
 ture, which was an insult to these men, who in sil 
 ence grinded their teeth against it. 
 
STEPS HEARD IN THE HALL-WAY G9 
 
 And those mothers in the prisons, without nice 
 yards, without gardens, with dusty roads and 
 swamp land around them, with nothing in their 
 homes to impress the children s mind with beauty 
 during all these years they had been obliged to 
 do without a kindergarten, until the city a few 
 months ago had seen fit to take steps in that di 
 rection! 
 
 Miss Kean looked again at those walls lined with 
 books and at the peaceful pictures. 
 
 "Replenish the earth and subdue it" were not 
 these the words ? 
 
 From subduers men had become the subdued, 
 with the exception of a small number. 
 
 It seemed to her as if youth never had been hers, 
 as if her years were an hundred. 
 
 Steps were heard in the hall-way. 
 
 She listened, she lifted her head, and the slow 
 color gave life to her face. 
 
 In a moment the door was opened, and a man 
 quickly entered the room. 
 
 "You are here already!" Mr. Wallace said, as 
 he greeted her. He laid a package of papers on 
 the table, while she resumed her seat. 
 
 She looked in her book; he paced the floor 
 quicker and quicker, looking at her every time he 
 turned. 
 
70 A STORY FROM PULLMANTOWN 
 
 At last he broke out: "I cannot stand it, Miss 
 Kean; I must speak now, before any one else 
 comes in. All day have I been promising myself 
 that the first moment I saw you alone, I should ask 
 for an explanation. 
 
 "You knew I was waiting for you, when our 
 meeting last night broke up; why would you not 
 let me take you home?" 
 
 She looked appealingly at him. 
 
 He came to the table close by her chair. 
 
 "You must answer me, or it will drive me crazy." 
 
 "You know I am always glad to have your com 
 pany, Mark but last night I did not wish for it." 
 
 "And why not? I pray, let me know your 
 thoughts; it may be the best for both of us." 
 
 She clasped her hands with a pained expression. 
 
 "I do not know my thoughts myself; how, then, 
 can I let you know them?" 
 
 "Was it because of because of what I said to 
 you in the hall-way?" 
 
 She did not answer, but he saw that her eyes 
 were filled with tears. 
 
 "You knew what I was going to tell you on our 
 way home, and you did not wish to hear it. I can 
 only say: even if the time never should come when 
 you might wish to hear it, my feelings toward you 
 will never be changed." 
 
He suddenly understood that this was her original self, the one she 
 would have been, had not the struggle for existence been gnawing 
 her youth. Page 71. 
 
OF THB 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
A GLIMPSE OF ANOTHER SELF 71 
 
 "I do not want a shadow of a misunderstanding 
 between us; we are friends and shall be so forever 
 but if I only could explain myself! Don t you 
 know from your own life, Mark, that there are 
 times of quietness when we feel ourselves mostly 
 as individuals, living our own life, absorbed in our 
 own interest; and again, there are times when our 
 own self is swallowed up, becoming identified with 
 all the souls around us?" 
 
 She arose and walked to the opposite side of the 
 table, he looked into her face; never had he seen 
 her look that way before! Her cheeks were burn 
 ing as bethought they never could; her eyes were 
 shining with a glow which he would have attributed 
 to people of different physical qualities than those 
 belonging to her. 
 
 He suddenly understood that this was her original 
 self, the one she would have been, had not the 
 struggle for existence been gnawing her youth. 
 
 Overwhelmed, dazed as before a heavenly vision, 
 he remained rooted to the spot, holding her gaze, 
 waiting for further words. 
 
 "It is impossible for me to tell you how I have 
 been feeling lately," she went on, catching her 
 breath. "I have been with those people; their 
 suffering has been mine; their bitterness, their hu- 
 
72 A STORY FROM PULLMAHTOWN 
 
 miliation has been mine. It makes no difference 
 that I have my bread by my brother s generosity, 
 while they have not; the want of bread is almost 
 the least; the degradation, the loss of free men s 
 rights, the utter subjugation under the power of 
 circumstances! 
 
 "I am a slave together with them; I am degraded 
 every time they are! Whether it is single individ 
 uals that have sold their souls to the devil, as in 
 the old mediaeval tales, whether it is all of us, who 
 are alike guilty for having built up a society with 
 slaves and masters I do not know. I do not 
 pretend to be able to point at the causes or to give 
 the remedy; I only see the results as they are. 
 
 "There is a time upon us, my friend, when the 
 life of the individual, personal interests, comfort 
 and joy, are out of the question, vanishing before 
 the one all-absorbing question: How can we get 
 these things adjusted? Do you understand me?" 
 
 He nodded. He was unable to speak. She 
 who had been the personification of calmness, of 
 patient endurance, she who, according to her own 
 words, was unable to express herself at liberty if 
 all their women were like her, sons and husbands 
 and brothers would not suffer long! 
 
 She continued: "Years ago I promised myself 
 
A PUBLIC MEETING PLANNED 73 
 
 that I never would bring a child into this life-drain 
 ing existence. I had so high a conception of mar 
 riage that it seemed impossible to drag it down 
 into this atmosphere. Wherever soul meets soul, 
 they ought to enter into life without reluctance or 
 anxiety, in full joy, in the feeling of their supreme 
 right to be the makers of their own destiny." 
 
 Mr. Wallace would have answered, but at the 
 same time steps were heard from the kitchen to 
 ward the room. He reached out his hand and met 
 hers across the table. He wrung it silently and 
 walked across the room to the small table with 
 plants placed by the window. 
 
 Mrs. Wright noticed that Miss Kean was labor 
 ing under an excitement unusual to her, but it did 
 not surprise her; these were unusual times. 
 
 The three sat down reading a letter from one of 
 the leaders of a great labor organization, announc 
 ing his intention to come out and remain with them 
 for a while, in order to organize the workingmen 
 and call some public meetings. 
 
 It was decided to rent a hall in a neighboring 
 district, as the only one in Pullmantown rented 
 out at twenty dollars a night, and moreover, they 
 would never be allowed to hold this kind of meet 
 ings in it. 
 
74 A STORY FROM PULLM4NTOU/N 
 
 After a while Mr. Wallace prepared to go, as he 
 was expected in the foundry block, where the mol- 
 ders and melters were to meet to-night. 
 
 Miss Kean was sitting by Mrs. Wright s desk 
 wrapping up some papers, as he came to bid her 
 good-bye. Behind them Mrs. Wright was busy 
 with her cupboard. 
 
 As Mr. Wallace reached out for the papers, he 
 said as answer to the silent gaze which met him: 
 "A new day will be dawning; at that time we shall 
 take up the thread which we dropped to-night;" 
 and lower "until then, I thank you for to 
 night!" 
 
 *,. * ..#.; .* 
 
 During the month of March a remarkable change 
 became noticeable in Pullmantown. 
 
 Before this men and women had gone to their 
 work by the twos or threes, depressed and hope 
 less, uncertain about the coming days and with this 
 uncertainty stamped on their whole being. Half- 
 fed and poorly clad they had trudged along the 
 wonted road to a new day s drudgery, which would 
 allow them a bare existence. Tired from the 
 work they would go home in the evening, dissat 
 isfied with the dirty surroundings and a scant table 
 and without a ray of hope for a better future. 
 
A HOPE WAS GROWING 75 
 
 Now they seemed to raise their heads. In the 
 morning eager faces would meet each other; a 
 quick talk, an encouraging word would pass be 
 tween man and man; they would go to work feel 
 ing that a common cause was holding them to 
 gether. They were no more upholsterers, carpen 
 ters, painters, molders, repairers; they were all 
 wage-earners, men with interests in common, a 
 body ready to protect each single member. 
 
 Perhaps none of them felt this more than the 
 poor, ignorant Poles and Italians in "the dens" by 
 the brick-yard; these people doing the hardest 
 work, living in hovels built so low that a common 
 sized woman could touch the ceiling with her 
 hand. 
 
 Their nationality had always separated them 
 from the other inhabitants of the place belonging 
 to the Anglo-Saxon and Gothic-Germanic race, 
 and so had their work, inferior to skilled labor as 
 it was. 
 
 Now they felt that their fellow-men took inter 
 est in them; they were not only toilers, they were 
 men with the rest. 
 
 The educating effects of organized labor showed 
 themselves from the very beginning. 
 
 And as the men among themselves began to rec- 
 
76 A STORY PROM PULLM/MTOWN 
 
 ognize their rights of manhood, a hope was grow 
 ing that it might be recognized *by society too. 
 
 They came home to supper filled with a new 
 life, dressed themselves and hurried through their 
 evening meal. Those who were not prevented by 
 the care of children took their wives along, and 
 from each prison-like block started a flock of la 
 borers who had commenced breathing the air of 
 freedom that inner consciousness of human worth 
 of which no tyranny nor deprivation can bereave a 
 man. 
 
 Off they went along the swamp land yet bound 
 by frost, in the bitter winter which was prevailing 
 during March, 1894, but above them the star-lit 
 sky and within them the life of a dawning will. 
 They went to a hall belonging to them for those 
 short hours, to meet a friend and organizer who 
 came to help them in becoming men. 
 
 The narrowness of their houses, the forced si 
 lence under the abuses and injustices of their bosses 
 were forgotten ; here was room, and here they 
 could use a free man s privilege to speak out all 
 that was in them. And they were no longer afraid 
 of what they said, since they realized the strength 
 of being a body. They let loose the bitterness of 
 years, their deep-rooted hatred to the man who 
 
AS A VOICE FROM ABOVE 77 
 
 
 had bought them, life and soul, their contempt for 
 the miserable creatures of his, who, with a few 
 honest exceptions, had done their share to embit 
 ter their lives. 
 
 And they did not express their sentiments for 
 their own relief and satisfaction alone; hundreds 
 of sympathizing fellow-men from neighboring dis 
 tricts and from Chicago came to hear their tales. 
 
 But it was not alone statements of their degra 
 dation those statements which were bound to 
 come, and to come with a higher degree of violence 
 the longer they had been kept back which was re 
 ported during those evenings. There were dec 
 larations of faith, of hope and of love, of faith in 
 justice and truth as the strongest elements, of hope 
 in the dawn of another era for mankind, of love 
 which unites all as one. 
 
 The winter of 94 one of the last winters be 
 fore the great rebuilding of society which now with 
 out doubt will come had brought the majority of 
 the people in the world to a point of starvation. 
 Men and women took the life, which they never 
 had asked for, and which they were not enabled to 
 sustain. 
 
 Those meetings of the workingmen from Pull- 
 mantown came to many as a voice from above. 
 
78 A STORY FROM PULLMANTOWN 
 
 Many a suicide was prevented, many a heart-broken 
 man and woman found strength to keep up the 
 struggle by witnessing the self-sacrificing zeal of 
 those workingmen in their efforts to unite. They 
 forgot that they were artists in painting, and un 
 skilled laborers, geniuses in mechanical work, and 
 drudges in the clay of the brick-yard; they only 
 knew that they all were wage-earners, and what 
 money one of them had was the other one s too, 
 until they either starved together or bettered their 
 conditions. 
 
 Therefore those evening meetings became meet 
 ings of true religion to those who took part in them. 
 
 And those from the large city, who came closest 
 to being fellow sufferers with the wage-earners of 
 Pullmantown the wage-earners in the big stores 
 came to listen. 
 
 Strange how they had the same tales to tell! 
 
 From Pullmantown it was told that when MR. 
 HOARD had given money to a church or to Re 
 publican campaigns, his workingmen had had to 
 pay it through a reduction in wages. 
 
 From the big stores it was told about two mil 
 lions given to a museum, while the wages of the 
 employees were put down ten per cent. Thus the 
 employees were forced to give two millions to a 
 
CHARITY AUD ROBBER Y 79 
 
 museum, while they themselves merely existed, 
 and their chiefs adorned their own heads with a 
 crown of glory for the gift. 
 
 One of the sales-ladies from another big store 
 arose and said: 
 
 "You know their charity globes from last sum 
 mer for the. babies in Lincoln Park with a: Have 
 you put in a dime? 
 
 "They claimed to give ten per cent of their profit 
 for three days of the week to this purpose; how 
 did they dare to give away the money robbed from 
 us, while we were half starving? I used to have 
 seven dollars a week in the glove department; at 
 the same time as they gave away ten per cent of 
 the profit, they paid me four dollars! 
 
 "I would see my fingers rot before I would put 
 one cent in their globes." 
 
 An uproar of approval arose from haggard-look 
 ing citizens to whom public charity had offered 
 soup twice a day for work on the streets, and if they 
 did not wish to ruin their only suit of clothes 
 those among them who had garments worthy of 
 that name and thus make impossible every chance 
 of getting work, then they were denounced as 
 tramps and idlers. 
 
 One of these men got the floor and said: 
 
80 A STORY FROM PULLMAKTOWM 
 
 "Some years ago a physician in the old country 
 wanted to prove that soup used alone was without 
 nutritious value, but that it, as a stimulant, taxed 
 too highly a system which was not in other ways 
 well supplied. He put a dog in one pen and gave 
 it nothing but water, and a dog in another pen and 
 gave it nothing but soup. The last one died four 
 days earlier than the first one. If this was good 
 soup, what may not be said of city soup?" 
 
 An outburst of laughter greeted him in spite of 
 the earnestness of the meeting. 
 
 Mr. Dieterle, the German Socialist, asked for a 
 few moments. 
 
 "I simply wish to give my definition of the idea, 
 charity. Those who take upon them to make the 
 laws of our society and to enact those laws have 
 created conditions under which women carry their 
 offspring in anxiety and sorrow, conditions under 
 which babies are born into deprivation of good air 
 and full mother-care; when those babies are near 
 dying, people hurry them to a park and pay for 
 them, rubbing their hands in glee over their own 
 goodness. 
 
 "Our rulers make conditions under which men 
 and women are starving, and then they arrange 
 charity-balls, societies and soup to keep back the 
 
A PLASTER ON A SORE CONSCIENCE 81 
 
 ebbing life, feeling highly pleased with this their 
 godlike mission on earth. 
 
 "Why did they not come forth and pay the mil 
 lions of taxes, out of which they had cheated the 
 commonwealth? 
 
 "Charity is, as a rule, a plaster on a sore con 
 science. In fewer instances it is a well-meant desire 
 to better society, but a desire taking a wrong aim." 
 
 A well-dressed man arose and asked for the floor. 
 
 "I am a teacher," he said. "This is the third 
 evening I have listened to you. 
 
 "I simply wish to say: You are not aware how 
 many thinking people, teachers, lawyers, physi 
 cians, and sometimes ministers too you have had 
 proof of that yourself" a cheer from a hundred 
 voices interrupted him, as the people from Pull- 
 mantown knew that they had at least one minister 
 in their midst who was a true preacher of life and 
 joy "how many such people, I say, are siding with 
 you in the position you are taking. You must 
 make your demands, thus showing your valuation 
 of yourselves, and you must make them until they 
 are heard." 
 
 Hearty applause followed him, as he withdrew. 
 * * * * 
 
 This time it seemed as if the managers and bosses 
 
32 A STORY FROM PULLMANTOWN 
 
 gave up their old means of curing the workingmen, 
 whenever organization-ideas beset them; this time 
 nobody was laid off. The reason was simply that 
 the movement now was so wide-reaching, so de 
 termined, that they would have had to lay off most 
 of their force in order to crush it. But the organ 
 ized workingmen were abused more than ever by 
 the bosses, especially those who were known as 
 leaders. 
 
 The rent was demanded as severely as ever, not 
 withstanding the unusually hard winter and the 
 lack of work. 
 
 Mr. Hart, the German founder, was out of work; 
 and the general depression, in himself, in his fam 
 ily, in all his surroundings, weighed heavier on 
 him inside the walls of the little room. So he lit 
 his pipe, took down his hat and went out for a walk. 
 It came to his mind, that it was a long time since 
 he was at Mr. Stahl s, a German friend of his, who 
 worked here as a carpenter, and he remembered 
 that Mr. Stahl had been absent from their last 
 meetings. 
 
 He went to his house. He knocked at the door; 
 nobody answered, but as it was standing half-open, 
 he went in. Nobody seemed to be there. There 
 was no fire in the stove, and the table gave no 
 
A PULLMANTOWN WORKMAN STARVING S3 
 
 signs of any breakfast. He coughed, and slow 
 steps were heard from the bedroom. 
 
 A man stood leaning against the door. It was 
 Mr. Stahl. 
 
 "For heaven s sake, Mr. Stahl, are you sick?" 
 Mr. Hart cried, and went to him. 
 
 "I have been lying down a little I don t feel 
 well," was the answer, and Mr. Stahl sank down 
 on a chair. 
 
 His face turned white, while drops of perspiration 
 showed on his brow in spite of the coldness of the 
 room, 
 
 Mr, Hart ran for a drink of water. While he 
 did so, he once more looked at the cold stove, at 
 the clean kitchen utensils hanging on the wall, and 
 the dreadful truth struck him. 
 
 He held the water to his friend s lips, and after 
 he had drunk, he moved him to the easy-chair. 
 
 "Rest quietly for a moment; I shall soon be 
 with you again," he said, and disappeared. 
 
 He ran upstairs to the third floor, where a sis 
 ter-in-law of his, who worked in the laundry, lived 
 with her old mother. He found the old lady alone 
 at home, hurriedly explained things to her, and 
 soon the coffee-pot was boiling. 
 
 "Have you an egg?" he asked. 
 
84 A STORY FROM PULLM4NTOH/N 
 
 "No, I have not, but the lady in the rear made a 
 cake yesterday; she may have one." 
 
 A few minutes later Mr Hart stood in Mr. Stahl s 
 kitchen with a coffee-pot in one hand, a cream 
 pitcher in the other, bread, a cup with butter and an 
 egg in a bag under his arm. 
 
 He placed the things on the table and turned to 
 his friend. 
 
 "You need a warm drink, and you must try to eat 
 some; we cannot have you look that way." 
 
 Without objections Mr. Stahl was placed by the 
 table, while Mr. Hart waited on him with a half- 
 despairing look in his usually merry eyes. 
 
 He did not talk to him during the meal, but 
 after he had finished and looked better, Mr. Hart 
 pushed the things back on the table, took a chair 
 up to the other end of it and said: 
 
 "Why do you let things go on that way, Ernst? 
 Why don t you come and let us know how you are 
 fixed? Are we not all in the same boat? Where 
 are your wife and children?" 
 
 "I told them to go to her sister s, three miles 
 from here, as soon as they got up this morning. 
 I said I would go to see you later in the forenoon. 
 And so I should have done, if I had not felt too 
 sick," 
 
DRY BREAD AND BLACK COFFEE 85 
 
 " For how long have you been situated that way ?" 
 
 "We have had no fire for three days. The 
 children and Annie have gone out visiting some 
 neighbors, but I was despairing; I thought, just as 
 well lie down and die. To state our circumstances 
 to the boss or to Mr. Hog, the manager, would be 
 of no use, and to live on the rest of you well, that 
 would only be bringing you down to us too Still 
 I should have gone to see you to-day " 
 
 "How long is it since you had any food?" 
 
 "To-day is the third day." 
 
 Mr. Hart went to the window and stood there for 
 a while, looking out at the streets of this place, 
 where he and his fellow-workers had paid a hun 
 dred fold for every foot of ground. 
 
 "We have been behind in the rent for the last 
 two months, as I was without work the whole 
 fall; so every pay-day most of my wages went to 
 rent. I have for two weeks gone to work with dry 
 bread and black coffee in my dinner-pail. 
 
 "Do you remember the day when Harry O Shea 
 fainted, while he was carrying iron to the copula, 
 because he had had no breakfast? I was in about 
 the same fix that morning." 
 
 * * * * 
 
 Mrs, Wright came down into the store after 
 
86 A STORY FROM PULLMANTOWN 
 
 some coffee, just as Mr. Hart opened the 
 door. 
 
 "I would like to have one sack of flour, one 
 pound of tea, fifty cents worth of sugar and two 
 pounds of butterine." 
 
 Mr. Wright put it down on a piece of paper. 
 
 Mr. Hart laid a two dollar bill on the counter, 
 and said, while Mr. Wright was changing the money: 
 "Will you please send it to Mr. Stahl, downstairs 
 in the barracks, without saying where it came 
 from ? 
 
 Mrs. Wright was there in a moment, and had 
 soon drawn the whole story from the man. 
 
 "Mr. Hart, I ask you to let me take care of this. 
 We shall send that family food enough to last for 
 a week at least. And if you would take those two 
 dollars and instead use them for your wife s black 
 dress, I should feel amply rewarded. You know, 
 she has had the goods lying since Christmas, when 
 you gave it to her. The skirt she can make herself; 
 but the waist has to be made by a dressmaker. 
 Will you ?" 
 
 "I promise you so, and I thank you," he said, 
 while his knotty fingers thrust the precious paper 
 deep down in his vest-pocket. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 Mr. Hart went to meeting that night with the 
 
THEY ALL STUCK TOGETHER 87 
 
 intention of bringing up Mr. Stahl s case as the 
 first thing of the evening. But when he arrived 
 there, he found the whole meeting in an uproar 
 over just as bad a case. 
 
 Mr. Brown, who used to work in the melting 
 shops and a year ago had one of his eyes injured 
 while at work there, had returned. Though he 
 had spent a year in the East, under the treatment 
 of the best physicians, he nevertheless had lost the 
 sight of that eye. MR. HOARD had done nothing 
 in the way of supporting him during that year, not 
 even paid his doctor-bills. His boss had promised 
 him work, when he came home, but now he was 
 informed that there was no work. 
 
 That night it was decided not to call upon the 
 bosses, agents, managers, superintendents, and 
 what all, any more. 
 
 They seemed to have a wide-reaching authority, 
 as long as it concerned the fleecing of the work- 
 ingmen; but whenever it came to adjusting wrongs 
 or showing human feelings, their authority sud 
 denly dwindled down to nothing. 
 
 And they all stuck together in guarding their 
 common interests. After the workingmen had 
 organized, they sent a committee to the head-man 
 ager complaining of certain bosses, who were un 
 usually unjust and used abusive language. 
 
88 A STORY FROM PULLMANTOWN 
 
 The head-manager promised to investigate the 
 matter, but the investigation was limited to inquir 
 ing of the bosses about the truth of those com 
 plaints. Their denial was taken against the word 
 of the hundreds of workingmen. 
 
 It was rumored that MR. HOARD inside two weeks 
 
 would make his yearly visit to Pullmantown, and 
 
 then they would appoint a committee to call on 
 
 him and present their complaints to him personally. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 At last a sunny spring-day came, and with the 
 new life bursting all bounds in nature, a new hope 
 dawned in many hopeless hearts. 
 
 It was the noon-hour, and the workingmen had 
 taken up their dinner-pails. Suddenly they were 
 all stirred up by the announcement: "MR. HOARD! 
 MR. HOARD is here!" 
 
 Some of them remained indifferently seated with 
 their dinner-pails; others flocked to the doors. 
 
 Along the streets a procession was moving. 
 Heading it was a gray-bearded man in a heavy 
 overcoat. Stout and broad-shouldered, heavy in 
 walk as well as heavy of build, was he. He looked 
 like a log of hardwood compared with the intel 
 lectual physiognomies, the nervously pliable stat 
 ures, and the features stamped with good-will and 
 
*S 
 
 5c- 
 
 ( 
 
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 n 
 
THB \ 
 
 UNIVERSITY ) 
 
WATCHING THE PROCESSION 89 
 
 humor of many of those laborers who were look 
 ing after him. 
 
 Behind him came a trail of followers all his 
 agents and officials in a line. 
 
 Some of them looked a little worried, some 
 strained; all were trying hard to make the best ap 
 pearance and have this performance carried out in 
 the best possible shape. 
 
 The girls in the laundry, in the repairing and 
 upholstery shops, ran to the doors, as the proces 
 sion in turn passed their places. 
 
 Enraged, mocking, laughing, as their disposition 
 at this moment prompted them, and as especial 
 injustice or a treatment colored by favoritism called 
 it forth, they gathered in crowds looking after the 
 vanishing procession. 
 
 "If he does not look exactly like the old hog we 
 used to have on the farm!" one saucy-looking girl 
 exclaimed. 
 
 "Take care of what you say," one of the girls 
 warningly said, looking toward the foreman, who 
 was as busy looking out as they were. 
 
 Thus women and men stood looking after that 
 man, who represented their existence during all 
 those years just as they represented his existence, 
 but in a very different way. A quiet hatred arose 
 
90 A SfbRY FROM PULLM/INTOWN 
 
 in them as they watched him. Not exactly a 
 hatred against him personally, but a hatred against 
 selfishness, greed and lawlessness; they knew how 
 he and his accomplices of the monopolies and 
 trusts secretly were breaking the laws and gaining 
 their way by throwing other people in the ditch. 
 * * * * 
 
 That night a most determined meeting was held. 
 
 Mr. Brown, the man who had lost his eye, took 
 the floor and said: 
 
 "The man whose fortune we during fourteen 
 years have made, after he through questionable 
 means had got his patent on a poor man s inven 
 tion, has been on our premises to-day. I say ours, 
 for this place is morally speaking, ours; the tools 
 and the shops, and the factories, all of it is ours. 
 
 "He ought to be our best friend, to whom we 
 could go in cases of need, in every trouble which 
 befell us. If he could not live among us person 
 ally, his spirit should be ever present with us, man 
 ifesting itself in helpfulness, justice, and apprecia 
 tion of our work, through those whom he saw fit 
 to represent him. 
 
 "To him goes the money which we make, and to 
 his agents only that share of it which he allows 
 them; therefore we lay all blame on him. Why 
 
HE MAY BE A PRODUCT 91 
 
 does he pass our streets followed by his tools, in 
 stead of going among his workingmen, inquiring, 
 sympathizing, like one man with another? 
 
 "He claims he is running things at a loss; if so 
 but we do not believe him all right, we have 
 made gold enough for him to enable him to stand 
 considerable loss. But if so, why does he not 
 come to us, talk things over with us, ask our 
 opinions and state his own? 
 
 "But he feared that if he had come to talk things 
 over with us, we might have asked him several 
 unpleasant little questions, for instance, if he called 
 that upright doings, that a superfluous force of two 
 hundred men have been kept here all the time, so 
 that they might be on hand in case of a rush. Thus 
 in every instance, small or large, the interest of 
 the employer has been looked after at the expense 
 of the employees. 
 
 "Are we nobody, we who have in heat and frost 
 worked to furnish him with mansions, and horses, 
 and money wherewith to buy power and independ 
 ence ? 
 
 "It may not be his own fault alone, that he is 
 the man he is. He may be a product of the mis 
 takes of the whole society, of ours and of our 
 fathers ; but we must have something concrete to 
 
92 A STORY FROM PULLMANTOWN 
 
 lay our hands on and make an example of; and 
 he is the one nearest to us. 
 
 "We will now seek him personally. He may 
 pass us like a stranger on the streets, but when 
 we go to him in his office and demand an answer, 
 he will have to give it. What kind of an answer 
 it will be, time will show." 
 
 Later in the meeting the Kentuckian arose and 
 said: 
 
 U MR. HOARD wanted to force us into voting the 
 Republican ticket, but we went Democratic with 
 a majority of two thousand. The next time the 
 whole place will vote the Populist ticket, and if he 
 turned us all out and filled his houses with new men, 
 he would create another lot of Populists." 
 * - * * * 
 
 Two days later a committee of three girls, rep 
 resenting the organized women of Pullmantown, 
 went to see MR. HOARD. 
 
 Many of these girls once had a good and quiet 
 home. Several of them had old mothers to support, 
 the struggle for existence having been laid upon 
 their young shoulders after the death of their 
 fathers. Almost all of them were nice and respect 
 able girls; working so steadily and living at this 
 place affording so little of elbow-room, one always 
 
MR. HOARD AND THREE GIRLS 93 
 
 knew the life of the other one. But their very re 
 spectability made it that much more impossible for 
 them to exist! 
 
 Many of them had been used to seeing little ser 
 vices in the home appreciated, and great sacrifices 
 valued at their worth. Now they had to give 
 their young lives to work, without having the 
 gratification of seeing that work appreciated; nay, 
 more, it was considered a matter of mercy that 
 work was given to them. 
 
 All of them would have preferred spending the 
 time of their youth some other place than in the 
 steam and heat of the laundry, or in the dust and 
 unwholesome air of the repairing shops. But all 
 had will and business sense enough to have felt 
 satisfied with working, if they thus had been en 
 abled to make an honorable living for themselves 
 and their families. 
 
 As it was now, with 80 to 91 cents a day and 
 constant feeling of dependence and humiliation, 
 life was not worth living. 
 
 Now they were going to see a man who thought 
 himself infinitely their superior, by his sex, by his 
 social position, by his supposedly higher develop 
 ment of mental faculties; while the truth was, that 
 he was on a moral scale far below theirs. 
 
04 A STORY FROM PULLM4NTOWN 
 
 Filled with silent contempt for him, regretting 
 that he was a being to be considered their equal, 
 they stood before him presenting their complaints 
 and watching the heavy, immobile features, while 
 waiting for an answer, which they knew before 
 they got it. 
 
 Pay higher wages? He could get hislaundrying 
 done cheaper in Chicago than in Pullmantown; it 
 was only out of consideration for them that the 
 laundry yet was in running order. Cut the rent? 
 Certainly not. He was losing everywhere without 
 cutting any rent! 
 
 * * * * 
 
 As report was brought to the meeting that night 
 about the failure with which the women s commit 
 tee had met, it was decided to send a committee 
 of three men to MR. HOARD. 
 
 They had little hope of any inclination on his 
 part to listen to them; but they wanted to feel 
 certain that all which could be done, was done. 
 The committee was chosen and the statements 
 drawn and signed by the representatives of each 
 union. 
 
 Mr. Wallace, Mr. Johnson, and Mr. Dieterle 
 were chosen for the committee. 
 
 It was Saturday evening, and the coming Mon 
 day was appointed for calling on MR. HOARD. 
 
UN TV 
 
 fUl 
 
 
 WORDS OF COMFORT AND HELP 95 
 
 Sunday passed very quietly. No meeting was 
 to be held that night; everybody was at home 
 awaiting patiently the turn of events. 
 
 A great many went to church in the afternoon 
 to listen to words of comfort from their beloved 
 minister. And they left church strengthened in 
 the hope that it was not only in a far-away here 
 after that life was meant to be beautiful and true 
 and good. It was to become so here on this earth, 
 as sure as life means joy in the realization of our 
 being. 
 
 The peaceful words and the light of truth which 
 shone from the face of their minister and friend, 
 followed them home; and even those who had 
 been most misgiving felt a ray of hope arise; the 
 man who had their destiny in his hand, might be 
 better than they thought; there might be a spot 
 in his soul open yet for the voices of his fellow- 
 men, and that spot might be touched to-morrow. 
 
 Sunday night many people were gathered at Mr. 
 Wright s house. 
 
 Most of the delegates from the different unions 
 and several ladies were there. 
 
 Very little was spoken about the economical 
 affairs of Pullmantown. 
 
 Everybody felt that this question had been so 
 
96 A STORY FROM PULLM^NTOWN 
 
 thoroughly discussed from every possible side, that 
 words now would be wasted. 
 
 The action of to-morrow was the only thing left 
 to be done. If that should be without result? 
 They dared not answer that question and therefore 
 they remained silent. 
 
 Stories had been told from Scotland and from 
 Germany, from the icebergs of the Northlands and 
 from the hot winds of Texas. 
 
 Those people from all parts of the world were 
 here united in one nation; still the different char 
 acteristics of each nation were retained, and this 
 fact served to make them yet more attractive to 
 one another. The solidity of the Scandinavian, 
 the high-mindedness of the Scotchman, the warm 
 heartedness of the German, the enthusiasm and 
 activity of the Frenchman, and the liberality and 
 elasticity of mind belonging to the American, min 
 gled together and created an evening which, for a 
 while, made those present forget the days which lay 
 before them. 
 
 They were talking about the literature of the 
 different countries. A Frenchman and a German, 
 with like eagerness, each claimed their country as 
 taking the lead. The German pointed at Goethe 
 and Schiller. 
 
OUR DEBT TO THE GOTHS 97 
 
 "I don t care," cried the Frenchman; "they were 
 up in the sky, ours have their feet on the ground, 
 and from there they are reaching upward!" 
 
 "You may talk all you want," a deep voice from 
 the window-corner said; "all your literature, En 
 glish, German, French, has grown out of the old 
 Gothic. Our warrior-tales have created die 
 Niebellungenlieder and the songs of the Trouba 
 dours of Gascogne. They have stamped both the 
 Normannic and Anglo-Saxon literature of En 
 gland; they resound from the pages of Shake 
 speare." 
 
 Every eye was turned to the fair-haired Dane 
 by the window, who hardly ever had been heard 
 to say anything before. 
 
 Unheedingly he went on: And the moral views 
 and religious teachings of the old Goths are the 
 same as are found to-day in the hearts of the na 
 tions and partly in the churches, too. In fact, 
 what our minister told us to-day, has been said in 
 our language centuries ago, almost in- the same 
 words." 
 
 The whole gathering jumped to their feet. 
 
 "Please, Mr. Hansen, recite some of it for us, 
 if you can." 
 
 "After I came home from the sermon, I looked 
 
98 A STORY FROM PULLM/MTOWN 
 
 it up, and I can quote some of the most striking 
 of it. 
 
 "The oldest manuscript which is found written 
 in the Icelandic tongue, or the "Old-Norse" tongue, 
 is Volve-spa. (Volve, the fate, an old woman, 
 who was before everything else time itself; spa, 
 that is, to prophesy.) 
 
 "It tells about the beginning of this world: 
 
 " There was in the dawn 
 Of the earliest time 
 Neither land nor sea, 
 Nor cooling waves; 
 Only a yawning, 
 Indescribable emptiness. 
 
 "Further, it tells about the life and struggle of 
 gods and men, and their many troubles in adjust 
 ing wrongs and making things meet in harmony. 
 
 "At last the end of it all is described: 
 
 " See, it is rising 
 The sunken land! 
 Green as a spring-time 
 It grows from the ocean; 
 The eagle is soaring 
 Way over the mountains, 
 Looking for fishes 
 In sparkling waters. 
 
 Gods are gathering 
 On plains of Ida; 
 Together they speak 
 
A POEM OF HEAVEN ON EARTH 99 
 
 About long-past ages, 
 The power of Loke, 
 The deeds of the old times, 
 The songs and the tales. 
 
 Happily playing 
 On sun-filled meadows, 
 They find under grasses 
 The treasures of olden; 
 Their dice of gold, 
 Once lost and forgotten, 
 Those which they owned 
 In days of their childhood. 
 
 Harvest shall come 
 From fields unsown; 
 Evil shall slowly 
 Turn into good; 
 Weak and strong 
 Together inhabit 
 Abodes eternal. 
 Do you understand this? 
 
 Then comes the mighty 
 All-framing Spirit, 
 He who alone 
 Has power for judgment; 
 Peace he shall give. 
 Discord shall harmonize; 
 Laws He shall lay, 
 Which eternally last. " 
 
 It was very quiet in the room after he had fin 
 ished. 
 
 After a while Mr. Wallace went to the piano and 
 commenced: 
 
100 A STORY FROM PULLMANTOWN 
 
 "My country, tis of thee " 
 
 All joined with a solemnity, as if it was a hymn. 
 But when he came to the stanza: 
 
 "I love my country, thee, 
 Land of the noble free " 
 
 his voice broke down ; he arose, closed the book, 
 pushed the chair away, and went to the window, 
 turning his back on the rest of the company. 
 
 Mrs. Wright and Miss Kean arose and went into 
 the other room. 
 
 When they came back, the guests prepared to 
 break up; silently they bid one another good-bye, 
 each of them filled with forebodings, which they 
 could not give a definite shape to themselves, much 
 less express to anybody else. 
 
 It was about midnight when Mr. Wright turned 
 the key in the door, preparing to go to bed. In 
 the parlor stood his wife, her hand against the 
 table, looking into the room. 
 
 As he entered, she said: 
 
 "I do not think, Henry, that MR. HOARD will be 
 more willing to comply with the requests of the 
 men than he was with those of the women." 
 
 "I have no idea that he will either." 
 
 "He will turn them off, as he did the girls, and 
 whac then? It will end with a strike." 
 
5O FAR AND NO FARTHER 101 
 
 "Don t say that!" 
 
 "It will; I feel it. It is in the air; it is in the 
 faces of those men. I watched the Kentuckian 
 and Mr. Dieterle to-night, and I said to myself on 
 beholding the quiet determination which more and 
 more is taking possession of them as well as of all 
 the others: It will come to a point, where it will 
 be, so far and no farther. And really, what other 
 hope is there?" 
 
 Mr. Wright seemed very much agitated, as he 
 stopped in front of his wife. 
 
 "A strike you don t know what a strike would 
 mean in this case, or you would not talk lightly 
 about it." 
 
 "I do not take it lightly," she objected, but he 
 did not hear it. 
 
 "It would not be a strike against a single man; 
 it would be a strike against monopolies and cor 
 porations, against their interpretations of laws, 
 against our representatives and against the Presi 
 dent himself. 
 
 "And they would all arise and strike back again. 
 It would be a vain effort, resulting in increased 
 suffering for those who already have suffered 
 enough." 
 
 "I do not think that ever a strike was lost, even 
 
102 A STORY FROM PULLMANTOWN 
 
 if it seemed so. In this case the indirect result 
 would be, that the workingmen in Pullmantown 
 would draw the attention of the world to their 
 sufferings." 
 
 "Ada, when we know that MR. HOARD pays in 
 taxes on this manufacturing city the same amount 
 paid for swamp-land, because he pays each new 
 assessor a certain sum for being allowed to rob the 
 commonwealth, can we then expect that the au 
 thorities, who allow this, should allow strikers to 
 gain their cause! It is useless, and worse than that! 
 Let us go to the polls, throw out the whole com 
 bination and get our rights; that is the only way." 
 
 "That would be one of the indirect results of the 
 strike. The sleeping workingmen would be aroused 
 from the east to the west of this continent, and 
 they would go to the ballot and stay there. 
 
 "They call me an optimist. I don t care. 
 
 "I do believe in truth and justice being the ruling 
 powers, when it comes to the point. I believe the 
 time will come when each home in this country- 
 yea, in the world, but in this country first will 
 be a place of rest and peace, of beauty and of love, 
 and I believe such a strike would be one of the 
 means which would hasten the coming of such a 
 time. I cfon t see how you can look at our inno- 
 
She had taken a paper from the table and wrung it in her hands, 
 while she almost defiantly looked at him. Page 103. 
 
Atfy 
 
 OF THB 
 
 UNIVERSITY J 
 
NO GREAT CHANGES WITHOUT BIRTH-PAINS 103 
 
 cent child and not believe that the time must come 
 soon, when such little ones will be born into life 
 in its fullness." 
 
 "I believe in it, too; but we cannot force it 
 forth." 
 
 "Well that depends on " she half laughed 
 "don t you remember: knock at the doors, and 
 they will be opened seek, and you will find? 
 Jacob fought with the Lord they teach us so about 
 the unseen things, but they are careful not to apply 
 this rule to things which can be seen! Never yet 
 have great changes been effected without birth- 
 pains. There are walls which must be torn down, 
 and old stuff which must be thrown out. I say it 
 is cowardliness in men not to strike under certain 
 circumstances. Better to lie down on the street 
 and die than to live a slave s life and leave it as an 
 inheritance to their children." 
 
 She had taken a paper from the table and wrung 
 it in her hands, while she almost defiantly looked 
 at him. 
 
 "You may be right; I cannot tell. But promise 
 me one thing, Ada; let us not be the first ones to 
 mention the word strike. I could not bear the 
 responsibility. Promise me!" 
 
 "I promise you," she said, more quietly. 
 
104 A STORY FROM PULLMANTOWN 
 
 To herself she thought, that if a strike should 
 prove necessary, there would be enough to mention 
 it, besides her. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 The next day the appointed committee stood be 
 fore MR. HOARD. 
 
 Quietly, hiding his rising displeasure, he received 
 them. 
 
 Thus they met those men representing the 
 thousands of wage-earners, of the best, the most 
 skilled in the world, and this man, whose clothes 
 and jewelry and mansions and horses represented 
 the products of their labor. 
 
 They looked upon him as the man who fattened 
 on their toil, and who in them only recognized the 
 toilers. 
 
 And he well, he felt intuitively that they stood 
 before him filled with contempt. 
 
 Politely and business-like their requests were 
 set forth ; quietly and business-like his answer came; 
 but both parties looked through one another, and 
 the man, in possession of the millions, felt himself 
 shrinking before the earnest gaze of those men rep 
 resenting the real owners of the millions. 
 
 They received exactly the same answer as the 
 women. 
 
NO CONCESSION FROM MR. HOARD 105 
 
 Wages could not be increased; nor would the 
 rent be cut. His business would then be run at a 
 loss, he said, and they could not expect that. 
 
 In quietness they listened to his answer, while 
 they saw as in a vision rising behind his back mil 
 lions of gold coins, which they had made and he 
 hoarded away. 
 
 They were welcome to inspect the books, he 
 added; there they could convince themselves of 
 what he, at present, was making. 
 
 It was supremely indifferent to them what at 
 present was made they, who knew what had been 
 made; still, they looked at the books as offered 
 them. 
 
 They were not experts in book-keeping; so in 
 reality this made them no wiser; the books might 
 be "fixed" for such an inspection, or what had 
 been whispered there might be a double set of 
 books. 
 
 Anyway, it was out of the question, whether the 
 work of to-day paid or did not pay. 
 
 But as they were seated with the books, Mr. 
 Dieterle turned the leaves of his, grew pale and 
 grasped Mr. Wallace by the arm. 
 
 Mr. Wallace followed where his finger pointed; 
 a long list of names were written on a sheet 
 
106 A STORY FROM PULLMANTOWN 
 
 names of all the leaders of the organization work, 
 of all who ever had spoken at the meetings. 
 Mr. Wallace saw his own name, Mr. Dieterle s, 
 Mr. Johnson s, Mr. Hart s. This was the death 
 blow of that community for years to come. 
 
 Their work was leveled with the earth; they 
 would have to leave behind them the suffering 
 thousands chained to the soil, without any hope of 
 better conditions during their life-time. Certainly 
 the best protective measures MR. HOARD could 
 use! In silence they laid down the books, and 
 faced each other. 
 
 "Let us ask him, on leaving, if our representing 
 his workingmen will result in our discharge," Mr. 
 Wallace said. 
 
 So they did, and were assured that it would not. 
 
 At that night s meeting the refusal of their em 
 ployer was announced to the workingmen. 
 
 The next day, about noon, Mr. Wright came up 
 into the kitchen. 
 
 Mrs. Wright was rolling out cookies, and her little 
 boy was watching her. 
 
 She turned and looked at her husband; his face 
 was white. 
 
A SLEEPLESS NIGHT 107 
 
 With an exclamation, she dropped the rolling- 
 pin and ran to him. 
 
 "Mr. Wallace, Mr. Dieterle and Mr. Johnson 
 are laid off . The foreman took Mr. Dieterle s 
 place, as they had no one with whom to fill it." 
 
 "I knew that would be the result !" she exclaimed 
 "the beginning of the results! Our free coun 
 try !" she added bitterly. 
 
 "What have you now to say?" she asked him. 
 
 "Nothing. Absolutely nothing." 
 
 He sank down on a chair and reached for his 
 boy. 
 
 The child stood between his father s knees, 
 looking up at him with surprise. 
 
 She saw heavy tears fall on the golden curls. 
 She could not cry, her throat seemed filled up. 
 * * * * 
 
 That night forty-four delegates from the work- 
 ingmen s unions gathered at a meeting. 
 
 No one else was admitted. 
 
 Mrs. Wright did not go to bed that night, The 
 gas was burning full in the parlor; she sat in the 
 rocking-chair, or she paced the floor. Her hus 
 band was in bed, but she heard him tossing sleep- 
 lessly. 
 
 Toward morning she went to his bed-side. 
 
103 A STORY FROM PULLMANTOU N 
 
 "I want to tell you what I have seen to-night," 
 she said, talking slowly, as one talks who at the 
 same time sees and describes what is seen. 
 
 "I see a country rising, filled with prosperity 
 and blessings. No drouth is killing the crops, for 
 the nation has irrigated all which can be irrigated, 
 and no land which risks drouth is used for agri 
 culture. It is laid out in immense pastures. I see 
 nations mingling together as one, and no restraint 
 is laid on their bringing their products to one an 
 other. 
 
 "I see the mines and the oil-wells and the stones 
 and the metals belong to society in common, as 
 they did from the beginning. 
 
 "And in that world I see no wage-earners. They 
 are all owners of the earth. 
 
 "And I see people becoming good, and their 
 children still better." 
 
 Here she sank down on the foot of the bed, and 
 as he tried to lift her, he saw that she had fainted. 
 
 The next day, about ten o clock, Mrs. Wright 
 got up after a few hours sleep. She felt stronger, 
 though her cheeks were flushed with excite 
 ment. 
 
 As she went into the parlor, she found Mr. Wal 
 lace there. She wrung his hands without words; 
 
OF 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
THE STRIKE IS ON 109 
 
 she was unable to speak, and it seemed to be the 
 same way with him. 
 
 She went to the cupboard after some dishes, as 
 the door was opened. 
 
 Miss Kean came in. 
 
 Without a word she went to the chair where Mr. 
 Wallace was sitting. She laid her arm around his 
 neck and kissed him. He took her hands in his 
 and covered his face with them. 
 
 Mrs Wright left the two alone and went to the 
 kitchen. 
 
 About ten minutes later she heard Mr. Wright 
 storming up the stairway. 
 
 "Come!" he said. "Come to the window in the 
 corner room !" And he almost dragged her with 
 him. 
 
 Slowly, with uplifted heads, in their working 
 clothes, dinner-pails in hands, line after line of 
 workingmen passed along the street. Another 
 crowd turned the corner, were received with a 
 cheer, and fell in line with the first. 
 
 Mrs. Wright heard steps; she turned her head 
 and saw Mr. Wallace and Miss Kean behind them. 
 
 His face was lit with a light from above; Miss 
 Kean was struggling with an emotion which lifted 
 her shoulders and took away her breath. 
 
110 A STORY FROM PULLMANTOWW 
 
 "The strike is on," Mr. Wright quietly said, as 
 if it was something he had expected. 
 
 His wife grasped his arm and leaned against him. 
 
 He drew her closer to the window, pointed out 
 at the procession of men and said: "If we have 
 to lay down our last cent, we will stay by their 
 side." 
 
 FINIS. 
 
WANTED-MEN AND WOMEN 
 
 MEN AND WOMEN who believe in human rights, 
 who can see how human rights are now endan 
 gered, and who want to do their part in the defense of 
 human rights, are urged to let us know where we can 
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 Our work is the publishing of books of social reform; 
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 We need fifty thousand agents for this book, to bring 
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 man may not be forgotten. Hundreds of agents already 
 are earning good pay in the circulation of the book. 
 
 If you do not need to make money in this way, cir 
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 sufferers. 
 
 Write us for prices by the dozen, hundred and thou 
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 We want particularly the address of every reform lec 
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 CHARLES H. KERR & COMPANY, Publishers, 
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WOMAN, CHURCH \ STATE 
 
 A Historical Account of the vStatus of 
 
 Woman through the Christian Ages 
 
 with Reminiscences of the 
 
 Matriarchate 
 
 BY MATILDA JOSLYN GAGE 
 
 A few brief extracts from many long reviews and letters: 
 
 An earnest and eloquent book. Philadel 
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 The subject is an important one and has 
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 You always have something to say worth 
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 ELLIOTT COUES, Washington, D. C. 
 
 Mrs. Gage, who has long been known as an 
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 organized under Single Tax principles. Mr. Henry George says of it: "I most 
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