The Mixed Crowd

Book excerpt

By: Jacob A. Riis

Date: 1890

Source: Riis, Jacob A. "The Mixed Crowd." In How the Other Half Lives. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1890.

About the Author: Jacob Riis was a Danish immigrant and photojournalist who documented the New York slums. He was also a reformer for New York slums and schools.

INTRODUCTION

In 1864, a group of concerned citizens took a survey of New York and found that 495,592 people lived in tenements—more than half the population. By the 1860s, the population of New York exploded with the influx of immigrants into the city. Buildings were erected, en masse, to accommodate large numbers of these families. Hundreds of these buildings were constructed, mostly in Manhattan, on the Lower East Side and in southern Manhattan. By the year 1900, nearly all of New York City's residents lived in tenements. Tenements were the first multiple dwellings and were built primarily for poor immigrant families.

The first tenements were erected on 25-foot-wide (7.6-meter-wide) lots. Usually they were constructed with four apartments per floor, with three rooms per apartment. There were no extras—no running water, light, or ventilation. The largest apartments were no more than 325 square feet (30 square meters). There was no privacy—one often had to walk through a bedroom to access another room. About twenty to twenty-two families lived in one building; this contributed to crowding and poor conditions. There were no building codes or requirements. In 1867, the first tenement law was passed with the aim of improving sanitation and ventilation. In 1879, a new law requiring a window in each room of newly constructed tenements was passed. In response, dumbbell tenements were built so that interior rooms could include windows opening onto ventilation shafts. These dumbbell-shaped buildings proved to be worse than the older, unregulated tenements. In 1901, in response to the failure of dumbbell tenements, another law was passed that required every room to have a window that looked out onto a street, yard, or courtyard. This law also made it difficult for investors to build on 25-foot lots.

Conditions eventually improved for some due to the introduction of model tenements, east river houses, and later union housing. The first model tenement was built by Alfred Tredway White, a successful businessman and member of the Unitarian Church. He constructed buildings for the working poor—people that worked hard but simply could not afford decent housing. In order to qualify for this housing, families must have two parents, show proof of employment, and not have social problems such as alcoholism. In contrast to earlier tenements, these apartments had running water, cross-ventilation, and windows that faced a street or large courtyard. They also had baths in the basement (a luxury in a time when most poor people had no access to bathing facilities). Model tenements were also constructed to house solely African-American families. In addition, East River houses were built primarily for families caring for a loved one with tuberculosis.

As time progressed into the early and mid-twentieth century, more housing was introduced in response to these problems. Citizens debated whether housing was the responsibility of the private individual or the government. In response, union, government, and federal housing was constructed from the 1920s through the 1930s.

New York housing reform spurred the development of improved residential housing for its diverse population. The first tenement studies were conducted by several groups and individuals, including an activist from the Council of Hygiene and Public Health in 1864 and Jacob A. Riis in 1890. Jacob Riis was a Danish immigrant and reporter who documented the New York slums in two works, How the Other Half Lives and Battle with the Slums. The famous How the Other Half Lives inspired public compassion and solidified Riis as an accomplished photojournalist, reporter, and reformer.

PRIMARY SOURCE

WHEN once I asked the agent of a notorious Fourth Ward alley how many people might be living in it I was told: One hundred and forty families, one hundred Irish, thirty-eight Italian, and two that spoke the German tongue. Barring the agent herself, there was not a native-born individual in the court. The answer was characteristic of the cosmopolitan character of lower New York, very nearly so of the whole of it, wherever it runs to alleys and courts. One may find for the asking an Italian, a German, French, African, Spanish, Bohemian, Russian, Scandinavian, Jewish, and Chinese colony. Even the Arab, who peddles "holy earth" from the Battery as a direct importation from Jerusalem, has his exclusive preserves at the lower end of Washington Street. The one thing you shall vainly ask for in the chief city of America is a distinctively American community. There is none; certainly not among the tenements. Where have they gone to, the old inhabitants? I put the question to one who might fairly be presumed to be of the number, since I had found him sighing for the "good old days" when the legend "no Irish need apply" was familiar in the advertising columns of the newspapers. He looked at me with a puzzled air. "I don't know," he said. "I wish I did. Some went to California in '49, some to the war and never came back. The rest, I expect, have gone to heaven, or somewhere. I don't see them 'round here."

Whatever the merit of the good man's conjectures, his eyes did not deceive him. They are not here. In their place has come this queer conglomerate mass of heterogeneous elements, ever striving and working like whiskey and water in one glass, and with the like result: final union and a prevailing taint of whiskey. The once unwelcome Irishman has been followed in his turn by the Italian, the Russian Jew, and the Chinaman, and has himself taken a hand at opposition, quite as bitter and quite as ineffectual, against these later hordes. Wherever these have gone they have crowded him out, possessing the block, the street, the ward with their denser swarms. But the Irishman's revenge is complete. Victorious in defeat over his recent as over his more ancient foe, the one who opposed his coming no less than the one who drove him out, he dictates to both their politics, and, secure in possession of the offices, returns the native his greeting with interest, while collecting the rents of the Italian whose house he has bought with the profits of his saloon. As a landlord he is picturesquely autocratic. An amusing instance of his methods came under my notice while writing these lines. An inspector of the Health Department found an Italian family paying a man with a Celtic name twenty-five dollars a month for three small rooms in a ramshackle rear tenement—more than twice what they were worth—and expressed his astonishment to the tenant, an ignorant Sicilian laborer. He replied that he had once asked the landlord to reduce the rent, but he would not do it.

"Well! What did he say?" asked the inspector, "'damma, man!' he said: 'if you speaka thata way to me, I fira you and your things in the streeta.'" And the frightened Italian paid the rent. In justice to the Irish landlord it must be said that like an apt pupil he was merely showing forth the result of the schooling he had received, re-enacting, in his own way, the scheme of the tenements. It is only his frankness that shocks. The Irishman does not naturally take kindly to tenement life, though with characteristic versatility he adapts himself to its conditions at once. It does violence, nevertheless, to the best that is in him, and for that very reason of all who come within its sphere soonest corrupts him. The result is a sediment, the product of more than a generation in the city's slums, that, as distinguished from the large body of his class, justly ranks at the foot of tenement dwellers, the so-called "low Irish."

It is not to be assumed, of course, that the whole body of the population living in the tenements, of which New Yorkers are in the habit of speaking vaguely as "the poor," or even the larger part of it, is to be classed as vicious or as poor in the sense of verging on beggary.

New York's wage-earners have no other place to live, more is the pity. They are truly poor for having no better homes; waxing poorer in purse as the exorbitant rents to which they are tied, as ever was serf to soil, keep rising. The wonder is that they are not all corrupted, and speedily, by their surroundings If, on the contrary, there be a steady working up, if not out of the slough, the fact is a powerful argument for the optimist's belief that the world is, after all, growing better, not worse, and would go far toward disarming apprehension, were it not for the steadier growth of the sediment of the slums and its constant menace. Such an impulse toward better things there certainly is. The German rag-picker of thirty years ago, quite as low in the scale as his Italian successor, is the thrifty tradesman or prosperous farmer of to-day.

The Italian scavenger of our time is fast graduating into exclusive control of the corner fruit-stands, while his black-eyed boy monopolizes the boot-blacking industry in which a few years ago he was an intruder. The Irish hod-carrier in the second generation has become a brick-layer, if not the Alderman of his ward, while the Chinese coolie is in almost exclusive possession of the laundry business. The reason is obvious. The poorest immigrant comes here with the purpose and ambition to better himself and, given half a chance, might be reasonably expected to make the most of it. To the false plea that he prefers the squalid homes in which his kind are housed there could be no better answer. The truth is, his half chance has too long been wanting, and for the bad result he has been unjustly blamed.

As emigration from east to west follows the latitude, so does the foreign influx in New York distribute itself along certain well-defined lines that waver and break only under the stronger pressure of a more gregarious race or the encroachments of inexorable business. A feeling of dependence upon mutual effort, natural to strangers in a strange land, unacquainted with its language and customs, sufficiently accounts for this.

The Irishman is the true cosmopolitan immigrant. Allpervading, he shares his lodging with perfect impartiality with the Italian, the Greek, and the "Dutchman," yielding only to sheer force of numbers, and objects equally to them all. A map of the city, colored to designate nationalities, would show more stripes than on the skin of a zebra, and more colors than any rainbow. The city on such a map would fall into two great halves, green for the Irish prevailing in the West Side tenement districts, and blue for the Germans on the East Side. But intermingled with these ground colors would be an odd variety of tints that would give the whole the appearance of an extraordinary crazy-quilt. From down in the Sixth Ward, upon the site of the old Collect Pond that in the days of the fathers drained the hills which are no more, the red of the Italian would be seen forcing its way northward along the line of Mulberry Street to the quarter of the French purple on Bleecker Street and South Fifth Avenue, to lose itself and reappear, after a lapse of miles, in the "Little Italy" of Harlem, east of Second Avenue. Dashes of red, sharply defined, would be seen strung through the Annexed District, northward to the city line. On the West Side the red would be seen overrunning the old Africa of Thompson Street, pushing the black of the negro rapidly uptown, against querulous but unavailing protests, occupying his home, his church, his trade and all, with merciless impartiality. There is a church in Mulberry Street that has stood for two generations as a sort of milestone of these migrations. Built orginally for the worship of staid New Yorkers of the "old stock," it was engulfed by the colored tide, when the draft-riots drove the negroes out of reach of Cherry Street and the Five Points. Within the past decade the advance wave of the Italian onset reached it, and today the arms of United Italy adorn its front. The negroes have made a stand at several points along Seventh and Eighth Avenues; but their main body, still pursued by the Italian foe, is on the march yet, and the black mark will be found overshadowing today many blocks on the East Side, with One Hundredth Street as the centre, where colonies of them have settled recently.

Hardly less aggressive than the Italian, the Russian and Polish Jew, having overrun the district between Rivington and Division Streets, east of the Bowery, to the point of suffocation, is filling the tenements of the old Seventh Ward to the river front, and disputing with the Italian every foot of available space in the back alleys of Mulberry Street. The two races, differing hopelessly in much, have this in common: they carry their slums with them wherever they go, if allowed to do it. Little Italy already rivals its parent, the "Bend," in foulness. Other nationalities that begin at the bottom make a fresh start when crowded up the ladder. Happily both are manageable, the one by rabbinical, the other by the civil law. Between the dull gray of the Jew, his favorite color, and the Italian red, would be seen squeezed in on the map a sharp streak of yellow, marking the narrow boundaries of Chinatown. Dovetailed in with the German population, the poor but thrifty Bohemian might be picked out by the sombre hue of his life as of his philosophy, struggling against heavy odds in the big human bee-hives of the East Side. Colonies of his people extend northward, with long lapses of space, from below the Cooper Institute more than three miles. The Bohemian is the only foreigner with any considerable representation in the city who counts no wealthy man of his race, none who has not to work hard for a living, or has got beyond the reach of the tenement.

Down near the Battery the West Side emerald would be soiled by a dirty stain, spreading rapidly like a splash of ink on a sheet of blotting paper, headquarters of the Arab tribe, that in a single year has swelled from the original dozen to twelve hundred, intent, every mother's son, on trade and barter. Dots and dashes of color here and there would show where the Finnish sailors worship their djumala (God), the Greek pedlars the ancient name of their race, and the Swiss the goddess of thrift. And so on to the end of the long register, all toiling together in the galling fetters of the tenement. Were the question raised who makes the most of life thus mortgaged, who resists most stubbornly its levelling tendency—knows how to drag even the barracks upward a part of the way at least toward the ideal plane of the home—the palm must be unhesitatingly awarded the Teuton. The Italian and the poor Jew rise only by compulsion. The Chinaman does not rise at all; here, as at home, he simply remains stationary. The Irishman's genius runs to public affairs rather than domestic life; wherever he is mustered in force the saloon is the gorgeous centre of political activity. The German struggles vainly to learn his trick; his Teutonic wit is too heavy, and the political ladder he raises from his saloon usually too short or too clumsy to reach the desired goal. The best part of his life is lived at home, and he makes himself a home independent of the surroundings, giving the lie to the saying, unhappily become a maxim of social truth, that pauperism and drunkenness naturally grow in the tenements. He makes the most of his tenement, and it should be added that whenever and as soon as he can save up money enough, he gets out and never crosses the threshold of one again.

Note 1. The Sheriff Street Colony of rag-pickers, long since gone, is an instance in point. The thrifty Germans saved up money during years of hard work in squalor and apparently wretched poverty to buy a township in a Western State, and the whole colony moved out there in a body. There need be no doubt about their thriving there.

SIGNIFICANCE

Tenements were not only the center of family life for millions of poor immigrants; they were often turned into garment shops. Families turned their apartments into shops where they took on contract work for large manufacturers. Living conditions were terrible—the combination of poor ventilation, crowding, moist air, and dust contributed to diseases such as tuberculosis and silicosis.

The slums became the center of national debate about work, family, and the role of immigrants in America. As of 2006, immigrants from thirty-six nations reside in the Lower East Side of Manhattan. At least thirty-six percent of the residents are foreign-born, and sixty percent speak a language other than English. Immigrants residing in America today continue to face the same challenges as their predecessors, including class bias, housing abuse, racism, and language barriers.

Initiatives such as Teaching English through History (provided by the Lower East Side Tenement Museum) and Immigrant Resource Guide (provided by the New York Times and St. Martin's Press) seek to address these issues and provide a dialogue to encourage public awareness.

FURTHER RESOURCES

Books

Hopkinson, Deborah. Shutting Out the Sky: Life in the Tenements of New York, 1880–1924. New York: Orchard, 2003.

Riis, Jacob A. The Making of an American. Honolulu, Hawaii: University Press of the Pacific, 2003.

Web sites

Columbia University Digital Knowledge Ventures. "The Architecture and Development of New York City: Living Together." 〈http://nycarchitecture.columbia.edu〉 (accessed June 28, 2006).

Tenement Museum. 〈http://www.thirteen.org/tenement/eagle.html〉 (accessed June 28, 2006).