Henry Street Settlement (New York, N.Y.); Poor -- New York (State) -- New York
“Rather a stone for a pillow in my own home,” said one woman on whom
life had pressed hard. “Would you go back?” she was asked. “Oh, no, no,
no!” emphasizing the words by a swaying of the body and a shaking of the
head. “It is not poverty we fear. It is not money we are seeking here. We
do not expect things for ourselves. It is the chance for the children,
education and freedom for them.”
[Illustration]
The passion of the Russian Jews for intellectual attainment recalls the
spirit of the early New England families and their willingness to forego
every comfort that a son might be set apart for the ministry. Here we are
often witnesses of long-continued deprivation on the part of every member
of the family, a willingness to deny themselves everything but the barest
necessities of life, that there may be a doctor, a lawyer, or a teacher
among them. Submission to bad housing, excessive hours, and poor working
conditions is defended as of “no matter because the children will have
better and can go to school—maybe college.” Said a baker who showed the
ill-effects of basement and night work and whose three rooms housed a
family of ten: “My boy is already in the high school. If I can’t keep on,
the Herr Gott will take it up where I leave off.”
A painful instance was that of a woman who came to the settlement one
evening. Her son was studying music under one of the most famous masters
in Vienna, and she had exiled herself to New York in order to earn more
money for him than she could possibly earn at home. Literally, as I
afterwards discovered, she spent nothing upon herself. A tenement family
gave her lodging (a bed on chairs) and food, in return for scrubbing done
after her day’s work in the necktie factory. The Viennese master, not
knowing his pupil’s circumstances, or, it is possible, not caring, had
written that the young man needed to give a concert, an additional demand
which it was utterly impossible for her to meet. She had already given up
her home, she had relinquished her wardrobe, and she had sold her grave
for him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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