Away over on the ragged eastern edge of the city it starts, out of
a ferry-house or else upon the abrupt water-front with river waves
slapping against the solid bulwark. Here are open, free sky, wide
horizon, the smell of the water, or else of the neighboring gas-house,
brisk breezes and sea-gulls flapping lazily. The street's progress
begins between an open lot where rival gangs of East Side boys meet to
fight, on one side, and, on the other, a great roomy lumber-yard, with
a very small brick building for an office. A dingy saloon, of course,
stands on the corner of the first so-called avenue. Away over here the
avenues have letters instead of numbers for names. Across the way--and
it is easily crossed, for on some of these remote thoroughfares the
traffic is so scarce that occasional blades of grass come up between the
cobble-stones--is a weather-boarded and weather-beaten old house of sad
mien, whose curtainless gable windows stare and stare out toward the
river, thinking of other days.... Some warehouses and a factory or two
are usually along here, with buzz-saws snarling; then another lettered
avenue or two and the first of the elevated railroads roars overhead.
This is now several blocks nearer the splendor of Fifth Avenue, but the
neighborhood does not look it, for here is the thick of the tenement
district, with dingy fire-escapes above, and below in the street,
bumping against everyone, thousands of city children, each of them with
at least one lung. The traffic is more crowded now, the street darker,
the air not so good. Above are numerous windows showing the subdivisions
where many families live--very comfortably and happily in numerous
cases; you could not induce them to move into the sunshine and open of
the country. Here, on the ground floor of the flat, is a grocery with
sickening fruit out in front; on one side of it a doctor's sign, on the
other an undertaker's. The window shows a three-foot coffin lined with
soiled white satin, much admired by the wise-eyed little girls.
[Illustration: Up Beekman Street. Each ... has to change in the greatest
possible hurry from block to block.]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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