Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1891-11-05
SCENES ON THE BOWERY.
The Home of Sharp Bargains and the
rs

"a
At first view the Bowery impresses
you as place which ought to come UP
to the romance. As you come W
Park Row. itself a curious place, YOU
ind yourself getting into deep shadow,
like the entrance to cave. The all
smells close and musty. The sunlight
has taken the freshness with it There
are elevated tracks hanging low. and
so closely covering the street that
rain seldom falls upon it This is
! Chatham Square the entrance to the
BoWery. Leaving the deep twilight
! OF Division street to the right. SAYS
Harper's Weekly, you go straight I'D
into the broad yet dark highway ot
east-side life, crowded both in street
and sidewalks. noisy with a multitude
! OF sounds some of which are TO be
heard nowhere else, Swallowed by the
tracks Of the elevated, which hang
/ low over the entire width of the street
| from Chatham Square to Grand, anl
| In these ten or fifteen blocks is con
tanned the true Bowery. Here are
| Jumbled together a queer and varied
! lot OF enterprises.
In and around Chatham square the
chief business is the lodging house
On the outer walls are hung great
! signs. bearing pretentious names The
| Windsor, The Grand Windsor. The
Atlantic, The Pacific, The Grand
Some of these places, the most Of them
IN fact, have front as inviting as the
names; there is a gaudy paint shining
brassWOrk, an air Of cleanness luxury
| even. This splendor is entirely out OF
keeping with the price lists hung be-
meath the signs and over the sidewalks
/ generally on cloth, through which a
light shines at night, that he who
runs may read. The prices range
/ from fifteen to fifty cents. Clean
sheets are offered at some places as an
especial inducement All this appears
from the street.
After the lodging-houses you will
notice the dime museums. And here
again is that pretentious exterior
the gay paint the big signs, all the
| promise Of good things within. There
are pictures of curiosities that would
appeal to the most blase museum goer.
Inside it is a sad sWindle. Ladies'
and gentlemen. this is an image of the
horned lady now living in Asia. This
is an image of the two-headed calf
now exhibiting in England. " It is all
fraud, all fake; and though you may
have gone in expecting a cheat you
will have so far surpassed your ex-
pectations that you will look sneak
ingly about you as you come out. The
In fact, the whole Bowery in all it's
amusements, in all it's business enter.
prises, is based upon the grand primal
principle of the philosophy of hum
bug-that you can get something for
nothing. That is the wherefore of all
this hardness, all this vain show, this
paint and gliding and glitter These
fakirs cater to the belief Of low intel
ligence in its own shrewdness and cum
ing.
A stranger in New York walked up
one side of the Bowery and down the
other. When he emerged from its
gloom, he said, Il never before knew
how ugly the human race is. The
Bowery is ugly, and the men and
women who move about in it share its
LONELINESS. Faces lower as the air.
Real laughter-vim of health and
spirits-is as rare as bursts of sum
shine. The people are clearly on the
edge Of life. fighting anxiously haras-
sedly, for a foothold, and seemingly
never quite gaining it. Few frames
are stalwart; few shoulders do not
stoop. Now and then the face of
young girl passes before you. There
may be prettiness in it, but it is the
sickly beauty of a potted flower in a
siXth-story tenement back window.
And you see clearly that even the trace
of fairness that comes with all youth
in all places will fade, vanish utterly,
in the sitting atmosphere of its en-
virOnment. And for this one touch of
freshness, how much that is faded and
hollow-chested and scraWny-necked
you will see! Generations of toll
hard, grinding, desperate toiI-have
produced these faces. these forms.
Here, too, are the shadows of ances-
tors sins that live behind uninviting
faces. There is also the track of fresh
vice, of avarice of drunkenness, of
sleepless nights followed by days of
labor.
You need not go home with these
people to find out their wretchedness.
They have brought away the damp
and poisonous civilizations of narrow
halls and dirty rooms in their clothing.
They have brought away the miseries
nf i, l,
nationality in its own way explains to
you why it is here aud how it is strug-
CLING since it arrived.
All this is quite plain, to be sure.
All human faces are interesting. But
among the richer people the emotions
are hidden by long schooling or soft
ened by the comfort of the routine OF
life. Among these people there is no
training to keep the face smooth and
calm. The edge of vice and poverty
is not turned. Poor food, poor lodg-
ing, dissipation. cut and tear and scar.
So the mind and heart are bare upon
the face.
No Public Speaker.
Richard Coleman. OF Virginia,
while yet very young man. was
made judge o. one Of the eastern cir
cult courts. Shortly after, he had to
pronounce sentence upon a murderer.
The criminal seemed TO be quite in
different, looking at the ceiling, and
apparently paying no attention what
ever to what was being said. After he
was remanded to Jail, one of the young
lawyers went into the cell curious to