Doctor Milligan, her hair flying along the sides of her head, almost collided with Emma and Alzina in the doorway, leaving Hull House for her evening rounds of the tenements. She clutched her black bag with her right hand and re-tucked her baby fine, side wisps with her left.
"Well! You almost got me
that time—or I, you! At least I have first aid!" Doctor
Milligan nudged Alzina. Alzina laughed.
"Do you have some
children to be weighed?"
Alzina produced a list.
"I'll
get to them first thing tomorrow. You've told them how to get
here and which room I'm in?" the doctor asked as she quickly
looked up and down her list.
"Yes, Doctor, the children have
all agreed to come in the next morning."
Alzina looked past Doctor Milligan at the men in dark coats who were streaming through the doors of the Jane Club meeting room. "Who are they?" she asked Doctor Milligan.
The doctor laughed. "Them? That's the Hebrew Cloakmakers' Union. Now you'll be wondering what wake is going on from their sour faces!" She shook her bright ropes of hair as she tossed her head toward the corner of the room where a clump of young girls were waiting. "Over there now, that lot are the seamstresses! Miss Jane herself—who can understand the workings of her mind—says that the two groups should meet together for their mutual benefit and that. . ." she smiled mischievously. . ." you are just the one to arrange the introductions!"
Alzina started to explain her
prior appointment with the canvassers and factory inspectors.
"No, no, that's all been arranged. We have got to get them
to go in for this meeting. You know how she gets. Jane says it's that
important. So off with you. And you. . .Go on, girls!"
Doctor Milligan made a
swooshing motion with her hands and jerked her neck toward the
door that the men had just entered. She looked sharply at the
first girl in line.
"Cathleen, haven't I been telling you
it's all right? Now be a dear and tell them!" The
girl who stood before the group turned and whispered something to
the rest. Doctor Milligan turned to Alzina and said in an
undertone, "From Saint Bridget's parish, you know."
The girl named Cathleen got up and motioned to the others to follow her. They all trotted into the clubroom after the first girl, like ducklings in a file.
Doctor Milligan turned to Alzina. "There, now, they're going in. See? The hard part's done! Just to see that the speaker gets introduced to everybody. Try. . . try to get them to mix a bit! I don't know how in mercy's sake we're supposed to be starting some union if they can't even be in the same room together!"
"Well, who is going to be the speaker?" Alzina muttered, dubiously. "I didn't know we had anything scheduled for tonight other than our wrap-up of the inspections. . ."
"Miss Addams was able to
get two speakers—I forgot," said Doctor
Milligan. "One is that newspaper fellow, Mister Stead. And
the other is. . ." A dignified gray-haired man came through
the door.
"There he is right now! It's Rabbi Hirsch from the
University. He was the one that got the men from his synagogue to come over here. I
don't know how it will go. Those girls aren't used to meetings
like this, with men attending. . .I've got to run! Down the
street. . .there's a baby I've got to birth!" Doctor
Milligan hurriedly excused herself and rushed out the door with
her bag.
"Come on, Emma," said Alzina, as she braced for a chilly reception on both sides. "Now, this should be interesting, because. . . Well, just watch." Emma and Alzina walked into the clubroom. Emma found a seat near the rear of the room. She looked at the backs of the seamstresses. They were all girls about her own age of fifteen. They stole a few glances at the dark-coated men across the room.
Emma felt a thrill of hushed anticipation. Back at Vina Fields', she always sat at this hour in the pantry, shelling endless numbers of peas or peeling potatoes. And before that, she and her mother were up each night until midnight finishing cloaks for Mister Field's store. Tatinek should see this! Emma thought. Tatinek used to discuss plays and books even as Maminka and Emma basted in the seams in the evenings. The work went much lighter, then. Tatinek had so much wanted that Emma should get an education. Here, in this house, was a place where she could be among people who discussed things, important things! Emma crossed her hands on her lap and waited for the talk to begin.
Alzina stopped a moment and spoke to the man with the gray hair, then she walked to the lectern and called for order. The girls had arranged themselves on the right side of the room, pretending not to notice the men. The men had arranged themselves off to the left, studiously turning their heads toward each other, rather than gawk at the girls. Each group had been buzzing and whispering among themselves. They looked up and faced Alzina now as she began the introductions. William T. Stead was seated in an armchair to her right.
"Our first speaker," said Alzina, cheerily, "Is a man many of you know from his highly successful meetings at Central Music Hall." She looked over at Stead and patted the side of her hair rapidly, since the room held no spark of common interest. Alzina hoped Stead would not be enjoying her discomfort too much, since the other time that they met, he seemed to find her difficulties so amusing.
Stead smiled, as if to encourage Alzina to go on. He knew a cold house when he saw one. Stead also recalled Alzina from their meeting at the Harrison Street Station. He folded his arms, guessing that she could manage this well enough. This woman obviously had push, now it would become clear if she had diplomacy.
Again Alzina forced a smile and began, "Mister Stead has proposed that we all try to work together here in our neighborhood and in our trades. I believe he has some news for us tonight and some suggestions to share." A young man came up to Alzina, flashed her a bright smile, and whispered in her ear. The boy's open smile contrasted sharply with the looks on the older men's faces. She put her hand on the boy's shoulder and introduced him to the crowd.
"I have just been
informed that Ben here will be translating for some of our
friends in the Hebrew Cloakmakers Union, so if our speakers will
please accommodate him, all may participate." She motioned
with her gloved hand over to the gray-haired man. "Before we
begin, I must also introduce our second speaker, a man who needs
no introduction, to some of you, Rabbi Emil Hirsch. I believe you
are Professor of Rabbinical Literature and Philosophy at Chicago
University, is that correct?"
The Rabbi smiled and nodded, "Indeed, true as charged."
"We shall all be most interested in what you have to say,
sir, because we have only recently begun to coordinate our Hull House
settlement with the fine work going on over at your Maxwell
Street Settlement. So, first let us hear Mister Stead since he
has another meeting. . .and then, Rabbi!" Alzina lead the
applause.
Stead got up, cleared his
throat loudly, and coughed. "I don't know what it is about
your Lake Michigan breezes that puts a damper on my voice, but I
shall try to hold out. . .Well!" Stead rubbed his hands
together in anticipation of a challenge. He looked around the
room for the faces that were beginning to respond. Not much sign
of life out there. The women were still stiff and silent and the
men examined the patterns of the wallpaper or their boot tops
with apparent fascination. Stead raised his voice a few
notches, preparing for a climax.
"If I may be pardoned for
repeating an old tale from the scripture, the Assyrian is loose
upon this city!" Heads looked up at Stead's first blast.
Stead turned to the gray-haired man. "You surely know,
Rabbi, far better than I, the familiar story of the Children of
Israel after they had established themselves and had waxed fat
and comfortable in the Promised Land."
Stead waited for Ben to
translate his opening into Yiddish and was pleased to see that
some of the men seemed to relax and to lean forward at the
prospect of hearing a familiar story well- told. He estimated
that about one-third of the men needed the translations. Stead
turned again to Rabbi Hirsch.
"Correct me, sir, if I have
this wrong, but was it not then that the hosts of Moab, of
Midian, and of the Mesopotamians fell upon the Chosen People and
smote them and despoiled them? So it is today in the city of
Chicago!"
The men in the dark jackets turned to each other
and whispered among themselves, since it was not usual to hear
Chicago compared with the Cities of Old. They murmured among themselves, uneasily.
"Chicago, my
friends, is under the tyranny of the Assyrian as were the Jews in
olden time. Only our Assyrians seem to come not from the
Euphrates Valley, but from Philadelphia."
Alzina laughed at
this homely allusion, since she knew of Yerkes's wealthy backers
from Philadelphia. She looked down as the translator repeated
Stead's words. The men in the dark suits didn't seem to get the
joke. Nobody laughed.
Stead went on, looking for the elusive friendly faces in the crowd. . . "It is a mistake to think that the Assyrian or any other Eastern conqueror established the minute despotism of the modern state. What these ancients wanted was not so much to interfere with the liberties of their subjects as to plunder them and deal with them as they pleased. They killed a few, not more than they pleased, but all tribal life they left alone. The Assyrians crushed Israel as a result of the misrule of that country and the indifference of its rulers to the welfare of the poor among the people. . ." The men were frowning at these words and leaned forward to hear.
Stead asked if perhaps his comparison might seem far-fetched. Some of the audience nodded, after the translation. "Hear this, then,
Wo unto them that decree unrighteous decrees,
and that write grievousness which they have prescribed. . .
To turn aside the needy from judgement, and to take away
the right from the poor of my people, that widows may be
their prey, and that they may rob the fatherless!"
Stead looked about as the light of recognition went on in the Hebrew cloak makers' eyes. The seamstresses needed an explanation. Ladies, these are the words of the prophet Isaiah. You might think he had paid a visit to City Hall or to any number of streets and alleys in your city. You are used to these things. You begin to think that they are the norm.
Stead looked at the girls,
whose attention seemed to be wandering. They were putting their
hands up in front of their mouths and whispering behind them.
Stead shot a blazing stare at one girl, who quickly dropped her
hand. He cleared his throat ominously while still staring at her
and resumed.
"Those of you who are Catholic in this room
know that there is a patron saint for just about everything. How
is it that Chicago has not as yet found that patron
saint? Let us come up with one here, tonight, then! How about
Saint Vitus? He is the saint that is all that is restlessly
moving, of the dance—in fact they call one nervous condition
Saint Vitus's Dance. Chicago dances that dance and the
workers in your garment trades must dance the fastest of all or
you fall by the wayside. You die. A huge, bloated Moloch sits
bestride this town. You dance your little dance into those iron
jaws and are never again heard from! Our job tonight is to be
sure that you are heard from!" When Ben, the boy translator,
had finished, the men broke into spontaneous applause. They were
really getting into the spirit of the thing. The girls looked at
each other, indecisively.
"Lads, I understand that your wages have been cut, once again. Is that so?" Voices answered Stead affirmatively. "And you on my right, you young women, I understand from your employers that you work not from economic need, but to earn—what is the colorful phrase—? Pin money! Eh? Is that not what they say?" Two curly-haired girls up front nodded.
Stead looked from the threadbare group of pale and dark- coated men on his left to the gaily decked-out girls on his right. A vast gulf still yawned between the two sides of the room. It occurred to Stead that the seamstresses had more in common with middle-class girls from Evanston than they had with these fellow workers in their own trade . . . But he went on probing for the thread that would unite them. "Ah, I'm not as young as I once was, so it is no superior wit on my part to say that I see the pattern in all this. I've seen it before. Girls can be offered the lower wage and they can be made to seem the men's worst enemies. Pin money, indeed!"
"Employers may combine to
their advantage!" Stead shouted. "Is that not so? But
you? Never. Your lives are to remain what Shakespeare called a
tale of sound and fury, signifying nothing." Stead dropped
the pitch of his voice on the word nothing. His mouth puckered as
though he were spitting out the pit of a prune. He mopped his
brow and resumed.
"If we look beyond the law of Cain, who
considered no man as his brother, if we look beyond the rule of
the counting house, what do we see? I believe the cost of
demeaning one person and robbing that person of every particle of
human dignity is that the masters, the bloody Assyrians in their
palaces, suffer as well! The will of God is for all to be
connected and he who would grind down others will find no rest.
This meeting is only a start. You may think that a gulf divides
you. They over there, young Irish girls. You over here, Hebrew
cloak makers. But think again. You are not slaves! And a human
being has the right to just employ. What arrangements you make
among yourselves are best left up to you. My next meeting is to
organize a group of men to clean our streets—men of all
religions and nationalities. For them, it is a start. A job. Now
here, you already have that start. It is up to you yourselves to
see that you are decently treated! I will turn this over to Rabbi
Hirsch, since my voice is about gone and—look at that!—
I'm fifteen minutes overdue!" Stead gave a broad grin,
tipped his hat, and started to sprint for the door.
The Rabbi caught his arm. "Young man, we may differ as to interpretation," said the Rabbi with a smile, "But I wish that more of my Rabbinical students had your fire! Look at them. . ." The tailors were all on their feet applauding. The girls, too, got to their feet and began to decorously applaud, still looking uncertainly over at the men. Emma was sitting behind all the seamstresses. She thought that she had never heard a better speech. If only her brother could hear such words as this. Or even little Julka. She watched the door close behind Stead. Then she looked up towards the front, between the heads of two girls.
Rabbi Hirsch stood at the lectern a moment, just smiling down at his notes. He raised his white eyebrows with his eyes still closed and gave a slight nod. He smiled over at the men. "Shalom," he said. The men chimed back, "Shalom." The rabbi seemed still in a state of mild amusement from what he had just seen and heard. He drew out a pocket handkerchief and mopped his forehead, since the room was becoming close in the July heat.
"For tonight, I shall range myself among the believers of the dogma that life is a jungle and that all men are beasts of prey. . ."
Ben translated and someone shouted in Yiddish that he knew the rabbi could never believe such a thing!
"Tscha!" said the rabbi. "For tonight only you will indulge me that I may hold the beliefs of such men, whether the psychology of such a belief is sound or not. Tonight I accept this belief blindly and on faith! Man is subject only to his own self-interest! This is our shrine for this evening . . . Enlightened self-interest wears the crown in our factories and counting houses." The rabbi waited for Ben to translate. He seemed slightly annoyed at the sound of the Yiddish, annoyed perhaps that all should not know English on their arrival, as he had. When Ben stopped his translation, the rabbi continued. "Vulgarly put, men are not in business for their health . . ."
The rabbi placed his hand
under his chin. "Now, no one wants to be told to do some
disagreeable thing, told that it will not benefit him, but that
he must do it. Is that right, my friends?"
The
rabbi looked around and heads were nodding. He nodded and stroked
his chin.
"So, if we are to gain better conditions, we must
show our employer that it is to his own self-interest not to
deplete his stock of workers, which he must do, if he hires
children!" The rabbi slammed his hand down into his other
hand. Then, regaining his composure, he went on. "So, like
every man, the employer must make maximum use of the material at
hand. Otherwise. . .waste! There will be no competent workers if
they are all prematurely employed or. . ." The rabbi turned
toward the seamstresses. "Or if the development of their
spines and limbs is stunted from cramped sitting or long
standing. How will your voices be heard on all these things? Will
you stand at the gates of your employer with a trumpet like
Gideon? No,in today's Chicago that would not do, my
friends."
The rabbi took a drink from a
glass of water that had been placed in front of him.
"To be
heard on the issues that Mister Stead has raised and on the issue
of child labor, you must combine! I have just returned from a
meeting of the National Council on Child Labor. Things are
starting to happen. We are fortunate in having a governor so
sympathetic to the rights and well-being of children as Governor
Altgeld. But all of you must be a visible support in this
effort!" The rabbi looked around the room. Some of the men
lowered their eyes in discomfort, perhaps recalling a little
sister who was sewing at this very moment.
"On the train coming back
from New York I thought about your living conditions. The signs
are that this will be a hard winter. You will be pushed this way
and that. The work will come in great loads that you will have to
do fast, fast! How many of you have worked the forty-eight hour
stints during rush season, eh?"
Some hands were raised. Others
looked around uncertainly.
"How can you help? My friends,
many's the time I've read Kaddish over a worker with young babies
at home, over a child. . . How can you help? First, keep
your younger brothers and sisters, your children, in school. Some
of the ravages of health that were discussed at that child labor
meeting were beyond belief! So—keep them in school. Miss
Addams has a measure before our state legislature which would
help the children who are the sole support of widowed mothers to
remain in school. A scholarship would be settled upon such
students until they are of age and can pass a standard literacy
test. In the long run, so I reason with employers, this costs
less than having maimed and useless adults in state hospitals or
prisons. . ."
Alzina had been sitting next to Emma when the woman came and tugged at her sleeve. Alzina and the woman walked to the back of the room, began talking in hushed tones and gesturing with their arms. The woman rushed back out the door and Alzina followed her. Emma didn't know whether or not she should go, too. She wanted to hear the rest of Rabbi Hirsch's talk. She looked back at him reluctantly, because she longed to hear how he would inspire the men. But then she decided that she had better go. She could not afford to be uninformed about the workings of Hull House!
Emma crossed the foyer and saw Alzina talking to three well- dressed men. One of the three men was quite clearly Mister Charles Tyson Yerkes, Emma realized with a start. His large, liquid eyes beamed as he saw Emma come through the doorway.
Alzina walked up to Emma on
her way down the hall.
"They are a deputation to see
Jane," explained Alzina.
"May I ask the purpose of their visit?" Emma asked. "Do you realize
that one of these men is Mister Yerkes, who has a soiled reputation?"
"Truly Emma, this group is as much a shock to me shock to me as to you. I don't know. Yes, I do recognize
Mister Yerkes and don't like like the look of it!"
Alzina waved Emma come
along with her. They scurried down the darkly paneled hall,
peering into each doorway. Finally they found Jane Addams and
Florence Kelley sitting in the back parlor, drinking lemonade.
Florence Kelley's voice was rising sharply. Her face flushed as she leaned over toward Jane Addams. "And then—you know what I said then? I said to that Assistant District Attorney, Mister Kimball, Well, are you going to take this boy's case or are you not? He said that his docket was booked for two years—two years!"
Jane Addams held up a hand to
stop Florence's narrative. With all her residents she had a
technique of slowing them down, calming them. This came from Jane
Addams's Quaker background.
"Now. . .let me see if I have
this all right in my head," Jane said in a soft, rolling
tone. "You told him that young Joey Rizzolli was losing
the use of his right arm from his work with arsenical paper at
the Prosser Box Factory. And. . . that you needed representation
to sue that employer for damages, correct? Now he did not refuse
you, just said he was busy . . ."
"Busy!" Florence Kelley snorted. She was taking being the first woman factory inspector for the State of Illinois very seriously. She stood up every inch of her five-foot-six and bellowed, "He said that how did he know I wouldn't come next with a suit against Marshall Field? You know what, if Field crippled a child like that, I would! I knew it and he knew it!"
"Miss Addams . . ." Alzina burst in, "There are some men to see you and one of them is Charles Yerkes—the streetcar king!" Florence Kelley choked and spat out the mouthful of lemonade she had just taken.
"There, there, dear," said Miss Addams. She patted Florence's shoulder as she went past her. "Now what could they want at this hour? Alzina, did they say?" Alzina shook her head and muttered that they wouldn't speak to anyone but Jane herself.
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Waking the Dead
Copyright © 1997 Gloria McMillan and Fly Neleth Press. All rights reserved.