CHAPTER IX
ORGANIZATIONS WITHIN THE SETTLEMENT
The settlement, through its preservation of several of the fine old houses of the neighborhood, maintains a curious link with what, in this city of rapid changes, is already a shadowy past. The families of some of the residents once lived nearby, and recall, when they visit us, the schools and churches they attended, their dancing classes, and the homes where they were entertained. One visitor told of the scandal in the best society, more than half a century ago, at the extravagance of a proud father, then an occupant of one of the settlement houses, who gave his young daughter a necklet of pearls on the day of her “coming-out” party. Old men and women for whom the names of the streets evoke reminiscences delight to revive the happy memories of their youth and to identify the few buildings, greatly altered as to their uses, that still remain.
Cherry Street and Cherry Hill, a short distance away, call up traditions of a great orchard to which we owe their names, its beauty in the blossoming time, the quaint, clean houses, each in its garden, all the pleasant, comfortable life of a bygone time. There is nothing pleasant or comfortable about Cherry Street to-day. Legends of the daring deeds of the Cherry Hill gang lend a dubious glamour to some parts of it, but for the rest it is dingy and dull.
We met Lena in one of the dull houses where we had been called because of her illness. The family were attractive Russians of the blond type, and the patient herself was very beautiful, her exceeding pallor giving her an almost ethereal look. The rooms were as bare as the traditional poor man’s home of the story-books, but the mother had hidden the degradation of the broken couch with a clean linen sheet, relic of her bridal outfit.
HERE AND THERE ARE STILL FOUND REMINDERS OF OLD NEW YORK
After convalescence Lena was glad to accept employment and resume her share of the family burden. One day she rushed in from the tailor’s shop during working hours, and, literally upon her knees, begged for other work. She could no longer endure the obscene language of her employer, which she felt was directed especially to her. The story to experienced ears signaled danger, but to extricate her without destruction of the pride which repelled financial aid was not simple. Readjustments had to be made to give her a belated training that would fit her for employment outside the ranks of the unskilled. Fortunately, the parents needed little stimulus to comprehend the humiliation to their daughter, and they readily agreed to the postponement of help from her, although they were at a low tide of income.
The very coarseness of this kind of attack upon a girl’s sensibilities I have learned in the course of years, makes it easier to combat than the subtle and less tangible suggestions that mislead and then betray. Sometimes these are inherent in the work itself.
A girl leading an immoral life was once sent to me for possible help. She called in the evening, and we sat together on the pleasant back porch adjoining my sitting-room. Here the shrill noises of the street came but faintly, and the quiet and privacy helped to create an atmosphere that led easily to confidence.
It was long past midnight when we separated. The picture of the wretched home that she had presented,—its congestion, the slovenly housekeeping, the demanding infant, the ill-prepared food snatched from the stove by the members of the family as they returned from work,—I knew it only too well. The girl herself, refined in speech and pretty, slept in a bed with three others. She had gone to work when she was eleven, and later became a demonstrator in a department store, where the display of expensive finery on the counters and its easy purchase by luxurious women had evidently played a part in her moral deterioration. Her most conscious desire was for silk underwear; at least it was the only one she seemed able to formulate! And this trivial desire, infinitely pathetic in its disclosure, told her story. As I stood at the front door after bidding her good-night, and watched her down the street, it did not seem possible that so frail a creature could summon up the heroism necessary to rise above the demoralization of the home to which she was returning and the kind of work open to her.
During that summer she came each day to the settlement for instruction in English, preliminary to a training in telegraphy, for which she had expressed a preference. Nothing in her conduct during that time could have been criticised, but subsequent chapters in her career have shown that she was unable to overcome the inclinations that were the evil legacy of her mode of life.
The menace to the morals of youth is not confined to the pretty, poor young girl. The lad also is exposed. I could wish there were more sympathy with the very young men who at times are trapped into immorality by means not so very different, except in degree, from those that imperil the girl. The careless way in which boys are intrusted with money by employers has tempted many who are not naturally thievish. I have known dishonesty of this kind on the part of boys who never in after life repeated the offense.
An instance of grave misbehavior of another character was once brought to me by our own young men, three of whom called upon me, evidently in painful embarrassment. After struggling to bring their courage to the speaking point, they told me that L⸺ was leading an immoral life, and they were sure that if I knew it I would not allow him to dance with the girls. They had been considering for some time whether or not I should be informed. Heartily disliking the task, one of the young men had consulted his mother and she had made it plain that it was my right to know. Fortunately the district attorney then in office had from time to time invoked the co-operation of the settlement in problems that could not be met by a prosecutor. A telephone message to him brought the needed aid with dispatch. When all the facts were known, I felt that the young man had been snared exactly as had been the young girl who was with him. Both were victims of the wretched creature whose exile from New York the district attorney insisted upon. The three had met in a dance-hall, widely advertised and popular among young people.
The inquiry of the famous Committee of Fifteen, as New Yorkers know, was given its first impetus by the action of a group of young men of our neighborhood, already distinguished for the ethical stand they had taken on social matters, and every one of them members for many years of clubs in another settlement and our own. They comprehended the hideous cost of the red-light district and resented its existence in their neighborhood, where not even the children escaped knowledge of its evils.
Although in the twenty-one years of the organized life of the settlement no girl or young woman identified with us has “gone wrong” in the usual understanding of that term, we have been so little conscious of working definitely for this end that my attention was drawn to the fact only when a woman distinguished for her work among girls made the statement that never in the Night Court or institutions for delinquents had she found a girl who had “belonged” to our settlement.[7]
I record this bit of testimony with some hesitation, as it does not seem right to make it matter for marvel or congratulation. One does not expect a mother to be surprised or gratified that her daughters are virtuous; and it would be a grave injustice to the girls of character and lofty ideals who through the years have been connected with the settlement if we assumed the credit for their fine qualities.
But as in ordinary families there are diversities of character, of strength, and of weakness, so in a large community family, if I may so define the relationship of the settlement membership, these diversities are more strongly marked; and it is a gratification that we are often able to give to young girls—frail, ignorant, unequipped for the struggle into which they are so early plunged—some of the protection that under other circumstances would be provided by their families and social environment.
All classes show occasional instances of girls who “go wrong.” The commonly accepted theory that the direct incentive is a mercenary one is not borne out by our experience. The thousands of poor young girls we have known, into whose minds the thought of wrong-doing of this kind has never entered, testify against it.
However, a low family income means a poor home, underfeeding, congestion, lack of privacy, and lack of proper safeguards against the emotional crises of adolescence for both boys and girls. Exhaustion following excessive or monotonous toil weakens moral and physical resistance; and as a result of the inadequate provision for wholesome, inexpensive recreation, pleasures are secured at great risk.
In the summer of 1912 a notorious gambler was murdered in New York, and the whole country was shocked by the disclosure of the existence of groups of young men organized for crime and designated as “gunmen.” There is not space here for a discussion of this tragic result of street life. It is probable that the four young men who were executed for the murder were led astray, in the first place, by their craving for adventure. They were found to have been the tools of a powerful police officer, and it was generally believed that they were mentally defective, and were thus made more readily the dupes of an imposing personality. They had not suffered from extreme poverty, nor had they been without religious instruction. Two of them, in fact, came from homes of orthodox strictness; but it was plain from their histories that there had been no adjustment of environment to meet their needs. There was no evidence that they had at any time come in contact with people or institutions that recognized the social impulses of youth.
At the time of the murder I was in the mountains recovering from an illness. The letters I received, following the disclosure of the existence of the “gunmen,” particularly those from young men, carried a peculiar appeal. Our own club members urged the need of the settlement’s extending protection to greater numbers of boys. Some of the young men wrote frankly of perils from which they had barely escaped and of which I had had no knowledge. They all laid stress upon the importance of preventing disaster by the provision of wholesome recreation which, as one correspondent wrote, “should have excitement also.” Their belief in the efficacy of club control is firmly fixed. A few evenings ago one of the young men of the settlement conversant with conditions, speaking to a new resident, defined a “gang” as “a club gone wrong.”
Mothers from time to time come to the Henry Street house for help to rescue their erring sons. They come secretly, fearing to have their sons or the police trace disclosures to them. A poolroom on a nearby street, said to have been, at one time, a “hang-out” of the gunmen, and its lure evidently enhanced by that fact, was reported to us as “suspicious.” The police and a society organized to suppress such places told me that the evidence they could secure was insufficient to warrant hope of conviction. Mothers who suspected that stolen property was taken there, made alert by anxiety for their sons, furnished me with evidence that warranted insistence on my part that the Police Commissioner order the place closed.
Formal meetings with parents to consider matters affecting their children are a fixed part of the settlement programme, and the problems of adolescence are freely and frankly discussed. An experienced and humane judge, addressing one such meeting, spoke simply and directly of the young people who were brought before him charged with crime, showing his understanding of the causes that led to it and his sympathy with the offenders as well as with their harassed parents. He begged for a revival of the old homely virtues and for the strengthening of family ties. A mother in the group rose and confessed her helplessness. She reminded the judge of the difficulty of keeping young people under observation and guarding them from the temptations of street life when the mothers, like herself, went out to work. Ordinary boys and girls, she thought, could not resist these temptations unaided; and speaking of her own boy, who had been brought before him, she summed up her understanding of the situation in the words: “It’s not that my son is bad; it’s just that he’s not a hero.”
I do not know who originated the idea of a “club” as a means of guidance and instruction for the young. Our inducement to organize socially came from a group of small boys in the summer of 1895, our first in the Henry Street house. We had already acquired a large circle of juvenile friends, and it soon became evident that definite hours must be set aside for meeting different groups if our time was not to be dissipated in fragmentary visits. When these boys of eleven and twelve years of age, who had not, up to that time, given any evidence of partiality for our society, called to ask if they could see me some time when I “wasn’t busy,” I made an appointment with them for the next Saturday evening, whereupon the club was organized.
It is still in existence with practically the original membership; and the relationship of the members of this first group to the settlement and to me personally has been of priceless value. Many of its members have for years been club leaders. They contribute generously to the settlement and in a variety of ways enter into its life and responsibilities. Clubs formed since then, for all ages and almost all nationalities, have proved to be of great value in affording opportunity for fellowship, and, during the susceptible years, in aiding the formation of character; and the continuity of the relationship has made possible an interchange of knowledge and experience of great advantage to those brought together.
The training of club leaders is as essential as the guidance of the club members. Brilliant personalities are attracted to the settlement, but it can use to good purpose the moderate talents and abilities of more ordinary people whose good-will and interest are otherwise apt to be wasted because they find no expression for them.
Given sincerity, and that vague but essential quality called personality, in the leaders, we do not care very much what the programme of a club may be. I have never known a club leader possessing these qualifications who did not get out of the experience as much as it was possible to give, if not more. An interest in basic social problems develops naturally out of the club relationship. Housing conditions, immigration, unemployment, minimum wage, political control, labor unions, are no longer remote and academic. They are subjects of immediate concern because of their vital importance to the new circle of friends.
A Settlement Interior.
The leaders of the clubs meet regularly for inspiration and guidance. Their conferences might be likened to serious faculty meetings, only here the social aspects of life and individual problems are discussed. We ask them to bear in mind the necessity of encouraging the altruistic impulses inherent in normal human kind, but, like other faculties, needing to be exercised. Where the material needs challenge the sympathies one must be reminded that “where there is no vision the people perish.” In our neighborhood there are traditions among the people that readily lend themselves to the reaffirmation of this message.
The girls’ and children’s department has long had the inspiration of a gifted young woman who, though a non-resident, has contributed in equal measure with those who have found it possible to detach themselves sufficiently from their family obligations to reside in the settlement. Among the leaders are young men and women who themselves have been members of the clubs, some of them now occupying positions of trust and authority in the city.
The classes have more definite educational programmes, but in the settlement they are interrelated with the clubs and made to harmonize with their purpose. For children attending school the manual training is planned to demonstrate the value of new experiments or to supplement the instruction the school system affords. The art classes are limited and informal, and without studio equipment as yet, but interested teachers have given their time to students who show inclination or ability, and effort is made to bring out not conventional, imitative work, but the power to see and to portray honestly the things about us. All the settlement family felt that for this reason, if for no other, it was fitting to have the story of “The House on Henry Street” illustrated by one who had found his art expression there.
The dramatic instinct is very strong in the Jewish child, and musical gifts are not uncommon. With encouragement a high degree of talent is often developed. Perhaps the most impressive evidence of this has been given in the cycle of Hebrew ritual festivals, poetical interpretations of the ceremonies cherished by the Henry Street neighborhood. The value of these is not limited to the educational effect upon the young people. They interpret anew to the community the rich inheritance of our neighbors, and the parents of those who participate give touching evidence of their appreciation.
When a beautiful pageant based on the incident of Miriam and her maidens was in rehearsal an intractable small boy was dismissed from the cast. In the evening his father, a printer, called and expressed the hope that if his son’s behavior was not unforgivable we would take him back. He wished the boy might carry through life the memory of having had a part in something as beautiful as this festival. After a performance a woman who had suffered bitterly in her Russian home blocked for a moment the outgoing crowd at the door while she stopped to say how beautiful she thought it, adding with deep feeling, “I thank most for showing respect to our religion.”
The dramatic club has attempted serious work, and “The Shepherd,” by Olive Tilford Dargan, and Galsworthy’s “Silver Box” were two of their performances given at Clinton Hall that, in the judgment of the critical, reached a high level of excellence.
The Neighborhood Playhouse, opened in February, 1915, is the outcome of the work of the festival and dramatic groups of the Henry Street Settlement. For nine years gifted leaders have devoted themselves to this interest, and the building of the well-appointed little theater was necessary for the further development of the work. In addition to the education incident to performing parts in good plays under cultured instructors, and the music, poetry, and dance of the festival classes, the playhouse offers training in the various arts and trades connected with stage production. Practically all the costumes, settings, and properties used in the settlement performances have been made in the classes and workshops.
“Jephthah’s Daughter,” a festival, opened the playhouse. We were pleased to believe that the performance gained in significance because the music, the dance, and the color were a reminder of the dower brought to New York by the stranger. Seventy-eight young people were in the cast, and many more had a share in the production. Children belonging to the youngest clubs in the settlement pulled the threads to make the fringes; designers and makers of costumes, craftsmen, composers, painters and musicians, seamstresses, directors, and producers, all contributed in varying degrees, showing a community of interest, service, and enthusiasm only possible when the purpose lies outside the materialist’s world.
From “Jephthah’s Daughter.”
It is our hope that the playhouse, identified with the neighborhood, may recapture and hold something of the poetry and idealism that belong to its people and open the door of opportunity for messages in drama and picture and song and story. In its first brief season, beside the productions of the groups for whose development the theater was constructed, there have been special performances for the children at which famous story-tellers have appeared. Important anniversaries have been impressively celebrated. Ellen Terry, of imperishable charm, gave Shakespearean readings on the poet’s birthday, and Sarah Cowell Le Moyne gave the readings from Browning on his day. Ibsen and Shaw and Dunsany have been interpreted, and distinguished professionals have found pleasure in acting before audiences at once critical and appreciative.
