The Workers: An Experiment in Reality. The WestWyckoff, Walter A. (Walter Augustus)
History
The Workers: An Experiment in Reality. The West
Wyckoff, Walter A. (Walter Augustus)
Unemployed -- United States; Working class -- United States
That dinner serves as a good illustration of our fare, both in what it
offered and in what it lacked. A bowl of hot soup was at each man’s
place when he sat down, and, after finishing this, he was given a
choice between roast beef and Irish stew. There were potatoes boiled
in their jackets, and pork-and-beans, and bread in wide variety and in
enormous quantity, and a choice of tea or coffee, and finally a pudding
for dessert. Some of this was good, but all of it smacked of wholesale
preparation, and appetites nicer than those of workingmen would have
found difficulties with the dinner. Even ours were not proof against it
all. I was struggling with a slice of tough roast beef out of which the
virtue had been cooked, when suddenly I caught an expression of comical
dismay stealing over the ruddy, bristling face of the man opposite me.
He was eating a piece of meat from a plate of Irish stew, and he spat
it out upon the floor with a deep-drawn oath, and a frank assurance to
his neighbors that “the meat was rotten,” while his facial muscles were
contorted with strong disgust. And the pudding was of such uncertain
nature as to recall vividly the oft-repeated saying of a classmate at
a college eating-club, that “flies in a pudding are quite as good as
currants.” Still the pork-and-beans were excellent and the bread and
potatoes fine, and the coffee, which was served in large cups with
the roast, was not impossible; certainly it was a well-fed crowd which
sat smoking for a quarter of an hour or more on the rough embankments
overlooking the Agricultural Building before going back to work.
[Illustration: IT WAS A WELL-FED CROWD WHICH SAT SMOKING FOR A QUARTER
OF AN HOUR OR MORE ON THE ROUGH EMBANKMENTS.]
Our gang was divided in the afternoon, and Mr. O’Shea left three of
us, a German, an Irishman, and me, to open up a way for the teamsters
through two long piles of paving-stones, which obstructed the road
near the Fisheries Building. His parting word to us was that the stint
was an afternoon’s job, and we could easily have finished it in the
four hours from one o’clock until five, had we worked with moderate
swiftness.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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