The San Francisco call., 1904-07-03
CHAPTER ".
IN A SWEAT SHOP"

IN A SWEAT SHOP"
The same evening I had a long con-
sultation with Mr.. Takiff and Make
cher husband being out for business
most of the time) and though the lat
ter strenuously objected and the form
er grumbled that the handicraft OF a
plain workman was altogether unbe-
coming for me. I decided TO learn shirt
making at Mr.. LevandOs. I realized
that at present I could not depend on
my knowledge of languages to make
a living.
Mr. Levando's shirt factory was on
the third floor of a rickety old frame
house among the tall tenements OF
Suffolk street. in the heart OF New
York's Jewry. The dingy building,
once red. but now the color Of the gut
ters. stood prominent among the other
buildings by reason Of its very hum
bleness. Under one or the windows
was nailed an unassuming square sign
bearing the inscription: ID. Levando,
shirt manufacturer"
At sight Of me Mr.. Levando dropped
the shirt on which he was working and
came forward with beam OF welcome
in his eyes "Welll" he said with a
sigh. though it grieves me to see a
university graduate taking UP a handi-
craft. I'll be glad to teach you the trade
since you can do nothing better.
The next day ] started on my new
career. Daniel, Mr.. Levando's young
est son, was my instructor. After
few days practice l was able to work
and talk at the same time. found the
small company exceedingly pleasant.
Occasionally we would indulge in long
discussions. We talked philosophy,
poetry, religion, economics-of Russia
with a pang at my heart), Of her lit
erature, of her Jews, and Of her inhu-
manity.
Daniel Levando was Of quiet dispo-
sition: he always looked sad and
dreamy. His eyes showed that he was
keenIy critical but the lower part Of
his face told that he was easily moved
by emotions-by pity, sympathy, love.
Though his profile, his thoughtfulness,
and his peculiar sadness showed his
Hebrew lineage clearly enough, his
type was not purely Semitic.
Several months passed, full Of ex-
hausing work, but made almost
pleasant by agreeable companiOnship.
I had almost become accustomed to the
sweat shop and TO work with my
hands, but felt that the machine was
gradually undermining my constitu-
ton. Ny cheeks faded, and I coughed
quite often. especially at night. 1 real
ized I ought to give up shirt-making,
but at the same time I felt it discreet
not to do so until saw better pros
poets ahead.
Mr.. Levando sold most of his product
70 one firm, Mark Fetter & Co., promi-
nent wholesale dealers in mems furn-
fishing goods, and the tenemen where
the Levando family worked and lived
was owned by the head Of the firm,
Mark Fetter, a German Jew. This
firm was far from popular with the
Levandos Il would rather go to a
pack Of wild dogs than on these err
rands," Daniel would often confide to
me when his father sent him to deliver
shirts. And Daniels opinion was the
opinion Of his father and brother.
One warm afternoon in the early fall.
when we were driving our machines at
full speed, Mr.. Levando returned from
a call upon Mark Fetter & Co. in a
very happy frame Of mind. 'I have a
big order. and 1 hope we shall have
steady work all winter" he announced
5oyfully as soon as he was in the shop.
Were you at Fetter's?" asked his
eldest son.
Mr.. Levando's happiness subsided
very suddenly. "Yes. He tried to
squeeze US again"
"Oh, that Mark Fetter!" muttered
Daniel. I'D rather starve than take
work from that fellow"
Daniel" replied the father softly
'4you know how much I love that
naughty fool with the glasses, but
what can we do at present? He buys
most Of our goods, and we must endure
him till we have worked ourselves VI
a little. and then we can shake him of
entirely"
''Whrrr - whrrr whrrr TIT =
whzzz," went the machines. and we Eel
70 work again at full speed.
One OF the girls, about II and very
pretty, began to sing a popular love
song. Several of US tried to join in
but she song so much better than any
OF US that we stopped and let her carry
the song alone. 1t brought back to me
recollections that were sweetly painful
and unconsciously I let my foot res
quietly on the treadle. The singer
however, worked on automatically a:
she poured forth her soul in the song.
Stop" cried Mr.. Levando suddenly
The song broke off abruptly, and We
ell looked up. A tall, solidly built man
with a hooked nose and piercing blacl
! eyes that glared behind glasses, stood
by the door, like a tyrannical genera
surveying an army. He was handy
legged, with crop Of curly hair, bushy
black mustache, and narrow forehead
He looked fiercely around him without