New York (N.Y.) -- Description and travel; New York (N.Y.) -- Social conditions
But to return to the type of person who came here to lodge. Where
did they all come from? one was compelled to ask oneself. How did it
happen that they were so varied as to age, vigor or the lack of it
and the like? For not all were old or sick or poorly dressed. Some
quite the contrary. And yet how did some of them manage to subsist,
even with the aid of such a place as this? What was before them? These
thoughts, somehow, would intrude themselves whether one would or no.
For some of them were so utterly hopeless looking. And others (I told
myself) were the natural idlers of the world, or what was left of them,
men too feeble, too vagrom in thought, or too indifferent to make an
earnest effort in any direction. At least there was the possibility
of many such being here. Again, there were those of better mood and
substance, like myself, say, who were here because of stress, and who
were temporarily driven to this form of economy, wretched as it was.
Others were obviously criminals or drug fiends, or those suffering from
some incurable or wasting disease, who probably had little money and no
strength, or very little, and who were seeking to hide themselves away
here, to rest and content themselves as obscurely and as cheaply as
possible. (The maximum charges for a room and a free bath in the public
bathroom, the same including towels and soap, ranged from twenty-five
to forty cents a day. A meal in the hotel dining-room, such as it was,
was fifteen cents. I ate several there.) Pick-pockets and thugs from
other cities drifted in here, and it was not difficult to pick out an
occasional detective studying those who chose to stay here. For the
rest, they were of the flotsam and jetsam of all metropolitan life--the
old, the young, the middle-aged, the former and the latter having in
the main passed the period of success without achieving anything,
the others waiting and drifting, perhaps until they should come upon
something better. Some of them looked to me to be men who had put up a
good fight, but in vain. Life had worsted them. Others looked as though
they had not put up any fight at all.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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