Clinton Hall, a handsome, fireproof structure, was erected on Clinton Street in 1904. It provides meeting-rooms for trades unions, lodges, and benefit societies; an auditorium and ballroom, poolrooms, dining-halls, and kitchens, with provision for the Kosher preparation of meals. In summer there is a roof garden, with a stage for dramatic performances. The building was opened with a charming dance given by the young men of the settlement, followed soon after by a beautiful and impressive performance of the _Ajax_ of Sophocles by the Greeks of New York. The stock was subscribed for by people of means, by the small merchants of the neighborhood, and by settlement residents and their friends. A janitress brought her bank book, showing savings amounting to $200, with which she desired to purchase two shares. She was with difficulty dissuaded from the investment, which I felt she could not afford. When I explained that the people who were subscribing for the stock were prepared not to receive any return from it; that they were risking the money for the sake of those who were obliged to frequent undesirable halls, Mrs. H⸺ replied, “That’s just how Jim and me feel about it. We’ve been janitors, and we know.” The Social Halls Association is a business corporation, and has its own board of directors, of which I have been president from the beginning. Clinton Hall has afforded an excellent illustration of the psychology of suggestion. The fact that no bar is in evidence, and no white-aproned waiters parade in and out of the ballroom or halls of meetings, has resulted in a minimum consumption of liquor, although, during the first years, drinks could have been purchased by leaving the crowd and the music and sitting at a table in a room one floor below the ballroom. Leaders of rougher crowds than the usual clientele of Clinton Hall, accustomed to a “rake-off” from the bar at the end of festivities, had to have documentary evidence of the small sales, so incredible did it seem to them that the “crowd” had drunk so little. It has been a disappointment that the income has not met the reasonable expectations of those interested. This is due partly to some mistakes of construction,—not surprising since there was no precedent to guide us,—largely to the competition of places with different standards which derive profit from a stimulated sale of liquor, and also partly to the inability, not peculiar to our neighbors, to distinguish between a direct and an indirect charge. In all other respects the history of this building has justified our faith that the people are ready to pay for decency. It is patronized by five to six hundred thousand people every year. [Illustration] CHAPTER XIII FRIENDS OF RUSSIAN FREEDOM