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
As a preliminary to unloading, we had to carry to the car some heavy
wooden blocks to serve as supports to an inclined plane by which the
machines could be slid to the ground. It sometimes required four and
even six men together to lift these blocks, and repeatedly I found
myself next in line to the new-comers. Their linen collars were wilting
with the sweat of labor, and it had apparently not occurred to them
to take them off. Their shirts, of delicate color, were turned up
above their elbows with gold link-buttons dangling from the cuffs. The
rough wood was fretting their bare white arms cruelly. I had a chance
presently to speak to one of them, and I showed him how he could get a
hold which would not be so chafing. In a moment of leisure he came up
and thanked me frankly, and volunteered the information that his friend
and he were but a week over from England and, having failed utterly to
find other work in Chicago where they had supposed that employment was
plentiful, they were glad enough in an extremity to accept this means
of living.
Most pluckily have they stuck at it. I have never again been associated
with them in a job, but, I see them almost every day, and through rain
and shine they have been the steadiest members of their gang. Places
better suited to them will be found, no doubt, as the general work
progresses; and that will not be long, I hope, for just now the boys
are at a considerable disadvantage. It was only two or three mornings
ago that I happened to meet them again near Mr. Dutton’s office, where
they had been sent to fetch some tools. The fairer boy wore a bandage
which covered his left forearm and most of the hand. I asked him what
had happened, and he explained to me how that in handling some old
sleepers he had missed his hold in one case, and, with the fall of the
heavy timber, a rusty iron nail tore down through his arm and the palm
of his hand, leaving a ragged wound open nearly to the bone. He had had
it dressed promptly by a good surgeon, who reassured him as to danger
of complications. But it had taken all his companion’s savings and his
own to pay the original fee, and they were in arrears for the daily
dressing. Luckily, however, he was still able to work, and Mr. Russell
kept him employed, he told me, in ways which brought his injured arm
very little into play.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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