News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1884-08-21
LIFE AMONG THE LOVELY.
xuu.TA REPORTER SAW IN NEW
YORK CITY TENEMENT HOUSE.
uoxv the Poor People of n Great City Man;
nue TO Exist-''The stencil was Awfui'"
rr..o,,, tho Nav York Herald

From the New York Herald
Here is a picture of New York tene-
ment. 1t stands in badly paved street
which is seldom clean. The monotonous
line of brick walls and bare sidewalk is
unrelieved by tree or a break. From
avenue to avenue stretch long rows OF
bald. cherries structures, each copy
of its neiphbor. The entrance is wedged
in between a green grocer's shop ana
beer saloon and the door is usually Woe
open The hall is dingy, dirty and
filled with noisy children or loungers.
The first floor is rented by the store
keeper. who sells stale vegetables, soap,
kindling wood and watered milk in the
front. and who sleeps in the rear. Inc
dingy, contracted passageway, which Is
a public thoroughfare free to all, ends
at the back yard, and in cold weather
the draught is bitter. Children run to
and fro in noisy play or with their faces
framed by the universal headgear, a
shabby or tattered shawl carrying wood,
coal or the can or pitcher OF toamlng
beer. Idlers, mostly youths, lounge
about the entrance and gossip with
passers by. But for the open doors the
hall would be dark on the sunniest day.
In rare cases it may be foored with OIL
cloth, but usually that is too luxurious.
Ascending the steep stairway, we reach
a narrow passageway on each hoor,
dimly lighted from the roof and with
doors on either hand leading to each set
of apartments. Sounds are freely heard
through these frail barriers. whose fire.
quent cracks admit jagged lines of light
-shriII voices of women scolding, the
whirr of sewing machines, the rattle OF
laundry irons, and the scrubbing OF
clothes: children's cries of merriment
or shrieks of pain, and the gruff or volu-
BILE voices of men; while the smell OF
cooking, the steam from wash tubs and
the stencil of rank tobacco, with the I'M
definable edors of unclean humanity
and Of sewer gas pervade the building.
The banisters are broken in places or
wholly. The plaster has fallen from
the ceilings and walls. Paint is absent;
CRIME and dirt abound. The stairs and
floors are worn into knobs and holes by
countless feet. The floor will some
times be Shiny with neglect, so that
nothing but scraper would remove the
accumulated filth. One floor is like
another, only as we ascend there is more
light. Finally ladder or stairs leads to
the roof and we reach fresh air and the
sight of heaven with sense of relief.
Here clothes are hung on lines and the
tin or gravel roof is protected by wooden
slat floorings.
If we knock at any door as we descend
it will be opened by slatternly boy or
by frowsy and wearied woman with
one or more children clinging to her
skirts. Each set of apartments is much
like its fellows. There is living room,
where the washing and cooking are
done and the meals eaten, with dark
inside bedroom opening from it. The
floor may be carpeted when there are
other signs of comfort and prosperity,
but it is usually bare. A small table, q
stove and few chairs, with bureau
and perhaps a cupboard or lounge and
Que or more cheap chromos or litho-
graphs of religious tone, and a clock
and some china vases constitute the
furniture. I have rarely seen tene-
ment without some attempt at orna-
mentation, and the cheap, gaudy cards
distributed by storekeepers are pinned
up by the dozens. A sewing machine,
bought by installments or loaned by
some charitable society, will often be
met with. Wash tubs are common
among the Irish and negroes.
As the means of family decline
their worldly possessions are fewer, until
one finds nothing but stove or chair,
with the bed on the floor. recall many
respectable families where this was the
extent of their furniture, and dispensary
physicians say they often find patients
living on the bare floor. In the average
case there is only single bedstead, and
the family is divided on lounges or on
temporary beds made on chairs. Old
fashioned mahogany bureaus and cup
boards, with rows of cherished crockery,
speak of thrift or are relics of past
prosperity; but, as rule, there are few
signs of comfort. The stock of extra
clothes is small; there is no place to
store fuel or food; books or papers or
toys are not visible; but among the
Germans. flowers, especially geraniums,
are found in many windows and thrive
wonderfully under their constant and
loving care. The Germans are note
worthy also for cleanliness, and they fill
the open windows in fine weather with
bedding to let the sun get at it-such
sun as there may be.
Every little while one comes upon an
invalid in bed or sitting up in rocking
chair or on lounge. Crippled or scrof-
ulous children and aged or decrepit per-
sons are common sights. In rear
house on Mulberry street German
family, numbering six or seven in all,
occupied three rooms. The husband, a
barber, had just come out of the hospi-
tai, and on the sofa, covered with any
thing but clean looking bedding, lay a
crippled boy of twelve, who could not
stand alone and who required constant
care.
Here in a dozen rooms are as many
characteristic groups. First there is a
thin, nervous looking mother, weary
with hard work and the care of teeth
ing babe. Next door is a bright, buxom
German woman, with eight healthy,
wide-eyed children. Her husband is a
cabinet maker and earns good wages.
On the floor above is a family of Jews
eating their midday meal in comfort and
cleanliness, and rising politely on the
visitors entrance. On the top floor is
an Irish virago and slattern, washer
woman in an old gown and bare feet,
who is at first impudent' and then loqua-
cious when she learns that the visitors
object is to inquire about bad smells. A
butchers wife, healthy and buxom, is
in the next fat. Thea comes an italian
and his young Irish wife, with party
of brigandish comrades playing cards,
while cans OF stale beer are served as re-
freshment. Hard by, in wooden tene-
ment, is anegro wench, with her mother,
withered crone seated in a rickety
rocking chair and looking as if a century
old. A half tipsy widow with young
er red-haired woman are next visited,
their tawdry dress and leering looks and
the bottle standing handily on shelf
showing their true character. Lastly,
we descend to the ground, and in a rear
cellar, four feet below the street level,
come upon woman and six children.
An adjoining stable fils the air with
stencil; the sun is shut out by high
walls. yet they do not complain or APP.
parently suffer.
No. 1191 Willett street presents more
characteristics than any other tenement
/ have visited. 1t stands sixty OF more
feet back from the street and is ap-
preached by an open court so that it is
surrounded on all sides by other build
ings. The front is only few feet from
the adjoining house walls, while at the
rear there is a narrow alley less than