Tuesday, July 10, according to instructions from THE
TIMES, I made up for the role of shop-girl, and with a
list of factories in one hand and gentle peace in the other sailed down State
street under a brown braise veil as impenetrable as an iron mask. I applied
at two feather factories and three corset shops, but aside from the exercise up and down
several flights of stairs got nothing. The feather people did not need any help and
the
corset folks had not started on the winter trade. I was treated with civility, however, and
given permission to “drop in a week or so.” The fifth place on my list was the
“Western Lace Manufacturing Co.” 218 State street. Ascending one
flight of stairs I stopped to take off my veil and adjust my eyes to the low light.
That
done I looked about and finding a door marked ”Office of the Western Lace
Manufacturing Co.” with “Come In” on the glass I complied. A young girl
followed and leaving her to close the door I fell into a chair, the only one about,
and
proceeded to perspire and scrutinize the place. The
office was not uninviting. The flow had a cheap carpet, the ceiling was high and the
room well ventilated and admirable lighted. On a long table, that
served as a sort of fortification for the private office of the company, were the
samples—“antique crocheted good”—as they are listed, in various shades of white. All
were of
different pattern and unvarying ugliness. There were round tidies and oblong tidies,
square
mats for a bureau and smaller ones of oval and circular design, intended for a lamp
or
cushion. Behind the table, sachetiny between a writing stand and a desk, was a young man of
30 or so, of blonde type, with a stationary scowl between his eyebrows and [missing word(s)]
otherwise pleasing manner. That is, I thought the manner pleasing till I began to
get
acquainted with it and then my opinion changed. After a lapse of five minutes or so the
fair-haired gentlemen turned to the young girl with a deepening of the [missing word(s)] and a most
unalluring
*Male Speaker:“Well?”*.[missing word(s)] *Female Speaker:“I brought the mate back.”* *Male Speaker:“Oh, you have, eh?”*
opening a piece
of newspaper and unfolding a dozen hand-made mats the size of a tea-plate. The work is
carefully examined on both sides and as he proceeds the scowl deepens. Without a word
he
tosses the lot on the little table and reaches for the proffered black the girl had
opened.
*Male Speaker:“What’s your name?”* *Female Speaker:“Rhafferty.”* *Male Speaker:“How do you spell it?”*
*Female Speaker:“R-h-a-f-f-e-r-t-y.”* *Male Speaker:“Oh, yes; Martha Rhafferty,”* after hunting through
a long list. *Male Speaker:“Do you want more work?”* *Female Speaker:“No, sir.”* *Male Speaker:“There’s plenty more if you want it.”* *Female Speaker:“No;
my mother don’t want me to do any more crocheting.* *Male Speaker:“Well, Mr. White
isn’t in now. Can’t you come in again?”* No answer. A look of discouragement comes over the
young face. *Male Speaker:“Don’t you have to do any shopping about town?”* *Female Speaker:“No, sir.”* *Male Speaker:“Well, you can wait,
can’t you? Wait here. Take a chair.* (I had the only one.) *Male Speaker:Just go in the next room there and
take a chair.*
As he went to lead the way the crochet-teacher called his attention, and the
girl remaining I seized my chances for a bit of interviewing. Martha showed me her contract,
in which the firm agreed to refund $1 of the $3 deposited when she had finished $15 worth of
work. On the back of the contract were the credit receipts of the company entered in lead
pencil, dating from January to July. She told me she lived in Gross Park, away out on the
West side that she helped her mother, and had been trying to earn $15 since January. She
received 60 cents a dozen for the mats and it took her a week to crochet a dozen.
*Female Speaker:“Then I
must pay 10 cents car fare each time, and that leaves only 40 cents. I had to pay $3 before I
could get any work. I always knew how to crochet, but they made me pay $2 for lessons and $1
as a security. I began in January, the first week, and now I am through. I have made $15,
and when they give me back the dollar I shall have $16.”* *Nell Nelson:Here is a company paying a girl of
18 $15 for six months and one week’s labor.*
When Mr. Ford came from the
work-room he was met by a boy who had brought in some work and was in a hurry to be off.
*Male Speaker: “Mrs. Clark sent these mats and she, wants you to receipt for
them.”* The paper is opened and the work inspected. The scowl deepens. There will be trouble
and I prick up my ears. *Male Speaker:“I don’t like this. This is bad. They are all stained. Are you
her—her—are you a relation?”* *Male Speaker:“Yes.”* *Male Speaker:“Well, you must tell her to wash her hands. These goods
are all sweet. I’ll have to charge her for spoilage the material if it occurs again.
Did she
tell you to ask for more work?”* *Male Speaker:“No, sir.”*
The poor boy is gone. Martha sits in the back
room the picture of [missing word(s)] and the entry being made I am approached.
I look like a beggar and that is what I am taken for, as, the pretty
blonde secretary only scowls. He stands and looks down at me and I
sit and look up at him waiting for the, lines in the handsome brow to deepen, the
edge of
the soft, brown mustache to curl, and the laconic, withering
*Male Speaker:“well”* to break the gaze. It
comes. *Nell Nelson:“Have you any work?”* I ask. *Male Speaker:“Plenty.” Do you want work?”* *Nell Nelson:“Yes.”* *Male Speaker:“What can you do?”*
*Nell Nelson: “Oh, I can crochet.”* *Male Speaker:“This kind of work?”* handing over one of the 60-cent mats. *Nell Nelson:“Yes; what
do you pay?”* *Male Speaker:“Different prices. Pay by the dozen, from 60 cents to $10.”* *Nell Nelson:“Let me have a
dozen of the $10 kind, please,*
giving my cat-colored eyes a mater doloroso sort
of a roll
As he caught the seraphic expression some facial machinery gave a lurch that threw
on side
of his countenance bias for a second. Reaching to the desk he pulled out the following
circular and handed it to me. OFFICE OF WESTERN LACE MANUFACTURING CO.
(Incorporated), 218 STATE STREET, CHICAGO,
ILL—[missing word(s)]: In reply to your letter regarding the work we send
out to ladies to do at their homes we beg to say that we make a large line of crochet
goods
of our antique crochet cotton a sample of which you will find enclosed, also linen,
silk,
etc. We make mats, tidies, lambrequins, bedspreads, shams, collars, hood, lace edging, etc.,
in large quantities. We have been established here for the last five years and have
extra
facilities for selling goods in large lost: so we are enabled to keep our workers
in steady
work all the time. Should you desire to work for us we should be pleased to send you
work on
the following terms: When you send order for work you are required to remit to us
$3: $2 of
this is to pay us for the patterns and instructions which we shall send you with each
lot of
new work. We shall also send you sufficient extra material so you can make a sample
of each
pattern sent, which you are allowed to keep for yourself; $1 of the $3 you send is a deposit
on the material we send, and this we shall return to you at any time when you return
the
work and wish to stop. You will be kept in steady work, paid for each lot when made
and
re-turned to us in good order. Our work is all made by the dozen, and prices range
from 50
cents per dozen to $10 per dozen, according to amount of work. An easy pattern, with sample
and full instructions, will be sent you at first, and the quality of work, and advance
in
prices as you adapt yourself to do-ing it. The work will be sent you by mail, post-age
paid
by us one way. Three month’s time is allowed you to do any one dozen of articles we
send.
This enables ladies who have only a few hours daily to spare to do our work as well
as those
ladies who take it intending to do it steadily. We are asked many times how much a
lady can
earn. This depends entirely upon your ability to crochet and the time you have at
your
command daily; ladies earning from $2 to $3 weekly. We could not guarantee to anyone any
stated amount that they could earn, but our work is easy and after you accustom yourself
to
it you can do it very rapidly. If you desire work for us fill out the blank be-low
and
return it to us with the $3, and we will place your name on our books and send work at once
with full instructions. Send your money by post-office order, draft, payable to our
order,
or registered letter at our risk. Very Truly, WESTERN LACE MANUFACTURING
CO. Keep the above for future reference. …………………………………………………… …………………..188
WESTERN LACE MANUFACTURING CO., 218 STATE
STREET, CHICAGO, Ill.—Gentlemen: In-closed find $3 that I send
you to secure patterns, instructions, and material for crochet work; $2 is to pay
you for
samples and instructions, and $1 is for deposit on material which I shall demand returned to
me at any time when I return to you the material in my hands. Signature………………………………………….
Town……………………………………………… County……………………………………………. Street and No………………………………………
*Nell Nelson:“What’s the $3
for?”* I ask. *Male Speaker:“Can’t you read? The $2 is to pay for the samples and instruction and the $1 as
a security for our material. I don’t know who you are and if I gave you the thread
I might
never see you again.” “I don’t need instruction. I can make the stitch and I don’t
want to
put any such amount in samples.* *Nell Nelson:If you can’t trust me with a spool of thread and a pattern
will you sell me the material?”* *Male Speaker:“That’s not the way we do business. If you want to work for
us you will have to comply with the contract. You pay $3; that entitles you to a sample mat
which we teach you how to make. After you have $15 made worth of work we refund the $1.”*
*Nell Nelson: “What about the other $2?”* *Male Speaker:“It goes to us for instruction and samples.”* *Nell Nelson:“Will I have to make
the samples?”* *Male Speaker:“Yes.”* *Nell Nelson:Then there are thirteen in the Western Lace Manufacturing
company's dozen?”* *Male Speaker:“If you can to put it that way, yes. But you get one of each
set.”* *Nell Nelson:“But I don’t want any. I have a supply. Tell me how much will you sell me a thirteenth
of a dozen of this set for?”* *Male Speaker:“The price is on the tag.”* *Nell Nelson:“Ah. I see 15 cents: and you pay 60
cents a dozen for making them, a profit of $1.20. The best thing I’ve struck yet. And stock
for sale?”* The scowl becomes threatening, but I venture to ask how much thread it takes to
mat for a closer calculation of the profits. No answer is deigned. *Nell Nelson:“If I give you $3 you
will give me work?”* *Male Speaker:“Yes,”* in a sullen tone. *Nell Nelson:“How much?”* *Male Speaker:“All you can do,”* brightening up a
little. *Nell Nelson:“How do I know you will give me back $1 after I’ve earned $15?”* I ask. *Nell Nelson:“I don’t know
anything about you. I never heard of your firm before and there is no name on this
paper.”*
*Male Speaker:“I guess your motives are bad. You don’t want work.”* *Nell Nelson:“What guarantee have you to offer of
honesty or respectability?”* With glaring eyes, distended nostrils, and face crimson with
rage he threw down a pile of 2-cent blank books in front of me. *Male Speaker:“There’s our customers:
every state in the union is represented; go to them if you want references. Here are
more
too.”* slamming down a sheet of paper with names and Chicago addresses of about forty women.
*Nell Nelson:‘I see you have a minimum local trade. Chicago women don’t seem overzealous about
the
crocheting business.”* Then I asked him where he got a market for the goods and the name of
some business man to whom I could go for reference. *Male Speaker:“Now I am not going to do any more
talking with you about this business.”* *Nell Nelson:“Why?? Is it a secret organization, a sort of
Maso[missing word(s)]”* *Male Speaker:“No. It isn’t secret or Ma[missing word(s)] either, but I don’t believe you’re all
right and I won’t answer any more questions until I know who you are and what you
want.”*
Poor Mr. Ford was so furious by this time that I thanked him for his
attention and bade him good afternoon. At the foot of the stairs I waited to tie my
veil on
and see how Martha fared, but at the expiration of thirty minutes she
was still waiting for Mr. White and her [missing word(s)].
Of the five women I interrogated none were able to earn 20 cents a
day. All expressed a liking for the work but
complained bitterly of the way the [missing word(s)] gave out the work. For
instance bedspreads paid $10 a dozen, but not more than three spreads were given to a hand
and one of these was the sample. The little tablemats paid 50 cents per dozen, but before a
girl was able to crochet enough to live on she was obliged to take collars made of
line
thread in such an intricate pattern that it was an utter impossibility to earn $1 a month.
No woman seen had earned $15 in less than six months, and one of the most skilled hands had
been on a 60-cent lot since June 3. By inquiry I learned that many women
paid $3 and gave up the work when they saw it was not possible to make the $15 necessary
for the rebate. This fact does not appear in the circulars, and it
is not [missing word(s)] after the contract has been signed that the [missing word(s)] tacties of the
concern are understood.
Several cases are on record at the Woman’s Protective
agency, but no judgment has been obtained, as the agreement [missing word(s)] valid
be-fore the law. All that can be done in the matter is to warn the public against
a
[missing word(s)] legally incorporated to grind the life out of the women and girls unfortunate
enough to patronize it.
At Rosenthal & Co.’s and Rosenberg Bros. I applied for work and was
told to report in the morning to sew on cloaks. The manager in
Stein’s, on Market street, wanted bands and
offered to engage me at once. I was most impudently catechized some seven inquires
requiring
as many false statements. What was my name, place of residence, last position, amount
of
wages received, state of my health, nativity,
*Nell Nelson:married or single*—to which I
answered *Nell Nelson:“neither.”* Here was a dilemma. *Male Speaker:“Oh, yes, widow?”* and
an inordinate ha! ha!
*Nell Nelson:Yes.*
*Male Speaker:“Grass widow, eh?” with a sneer.*
*Nell Nelson:How much do you pay for cloaks*, I asked, tired of the ordeal
*Male Speaker:“Fifty cents, each.”*
It was enough and I left the creature still anxious to solve the widow question.
By the time I reached Ludden’s, 122 Market
street, I was in a reckless frame of mind.
*Nell Nelson:“Is there any
work for a good sewer?”* I asked the girl in the office. *Female Speaker:“Yes, plenty.
John give her some pants.”*
John had eyes the
color of calico and a complexion like an immature tomato. He led the way to the cottonades,
which were cut, trimmed, and tied up in bundles of a dozen garments each.
*Male Speaker:“Here’s a sample,”*
holding up a pair of overalls of brown cottonade. *Male Speaker:“The work is cut out, but you will have to do everything yourself. I want you to make
the fly extra strong and press the buttons. We
pay 75 cents a dozen and you find your own thread.”* *Nell Nelson:“Seventy-five cents for a dozen of these
pants and find my own thread?”* *Male Speaker:“Yes. Or I’ll pay you 80 cents a dozen and give you linen thread if you sew the buttons on fast.”* *Nell Nelson:“No. I guess I won’t take the pants. What other work
have you?”* *Male Speaker:“Here are cheviot shirts if you’d rather. Gusset the tail here and the sleeves,
stay the bosom and arm-holes, and make the collar and wrist-bands extra strong. These pay 75
cents a dozen.”* He offered to give me three on trial. The thread would cost 5 cents,
car-fare 10 cents, and I should have 3 cents after the job. John said:
*Male Speaker:“That’s so, but I can’t help it. If the work is satisfactory you can have a six-dozen
lot.”*
It was very good of John to sympathise with me, but I thanked him and
said I would look a little further.
At the
Never-Rip Jersey Company I was told to
apply at the factory 133 West Washington street. “Work is given out at
7:30 a. m.,” the clerk informed me, “and if you have any snap about you you can make
a good
living. By the way of getting the required snap I went home, ate my dinner, and was
in bed
at 8 o’ clock. The next morning I resumed the rags of poverty and at 7 o’clock made my debut
as the factory hand. I was one of 120 women, ranging in age from 15 to
60. The factory where the never-rip jerseys are made is
at the corner of Washington and Union streets, with the elevator
entrance in the rear and workroom in the fifth story. The girls began to arrive at
7
o’clock, and at every trip of the elevator some twenty or more were carried up-stairs.
I
took a chair in one of the machine rows, and for an hour did nothing but watch the
preparations for work in that human hive. The room was
50x138, with an open unfinished roof and brick walls calcimined. Light was admitted from
rear and side windows. The pressmen had their boards and furnaces at the south end of the
room, where all the work was pressed prior to being boxed and ticketed for the trade.
At the
extreme opposite end was the cutting-room, fenced in from the rest, and between the
two were
the worktables, where the hundred odd girls stitched and finished the jerseys.
Along the brick walls were nails, irregularly driven, on which the girls hung their
hats and
wraps, dresses and collars. Nearly every one took off her dress and waisit, turned
it inside
out, put it on a nail and put on a calico of old stuff shop suit. A few took off their
corsets and nearly all the machine hands changed their shoes before work. On the stroke
of
7:30 a bell rang, the power was turned on the machines began to buzz like little saw-mills
and the day’s work had commenced. Heads of brown, black, yellow, and gray bent so near the
flying shuttles that every minute I experted the bangs and fluffy crimps would get
caught in
the machinery. The faces were sad and so very, very pales that I
shall never look at a jersey again without seeing
them.
The average age may have been 23, but not less.
There were girls of 17 and 18 and some world-weary women past 50 all
working for little more than enough to keep body and soul together.
The work circulated in baskets—long chip hampers with stout-handles—that held a dozen,
with
room for five times that quantity. A great deal of time was lost by the
workers in getting the contents of the basket examined, checked off on the ticket
and
the ticket stamped.
If it had been the last change for life I don’t believe the girls would have worked
any harder for salvation. Scarcely a head was raised from machine or lap.
Shoulders were bent down, chests hollowed in, and
faces drooped so low that I could not begin to make a study of the “windows of the
souls” before me. At 8:40 the proprietor of the
chair I was in asked me to vacate, and I walked down through the narrow aisles of
sewing-women to the “forelady” and asked for work.
She asked me if I wanted to take a machine, but I expressed a preference for finishing.
I
was given a numbers, a basket with five jerseys to finish, and a chair beside a
girl named Hannah, who, being engaged by the way was told to “show me.”
Hannah had blonde hair and talked with the brogue. She gave me a
needle as long as my engagement finger, and the most meager instruction compatible
with
obedience. Fortunately I had my thimble and crossing my knees I threaded the
gimlet-like needle with silk and I proceeded to
hook-and-eye a jersey. Remembering the treachery of
my shop clothes I ever wore filled the two hooks and eyes with sewing and after testing
them
proceeded to face the collar. I told Hannah about my misery, but she
wisely said it was no fault of hers and went on with a $3-a-dozen lot she had been doing two
days and a half. Thinking it would be a good way to get acquainted with my neighbors I asked
several for a fine needle and at last exchanged the crow-bar Hannah had
given me for a line cambric article. It worked better and at the end of two
hours I had bound the arm-holes,
faced the collar,
tacked the front facing and the bustle
piece, and put two patts of hooks and eyes in a black jersey. The
dye was not fast, neither was the wool, for my throat, ears,
and nostrils were tufted with black lint. I was African from the nails to the wrists. The
front facings had to be trimmed off. I had no scissors. Hannah was
dangerous with her, and I lost about 15 cents worth of time borrowing the weapons.
At noon I had finished four jerseys and was
so sore about the neck and back that I could scarcely rise from the
chair. I began to scent hot tea, and looking about saw
a big girl called Emma brewing three pots of Japan over one of the
press furnaces. She had her front hair in curl papers and was whistling “In The Sweet
Bye
and Bye.” About thirty girls went to her, each with her own cup, for a supply of tea.
I
remarked to one passing my chair that her tea looked awfully nice and asked where
she got
it. “From Em. She makes it and we each pay 2 cents a week.” On the
stroke of 12 the machine stopped and 120 tired women stopped too, for thirty minutes’
rest
and the food that could hardly be called refreshing. In the main it consisted of brown
bread
and butter. In some parcels there was cold meat and cake: others had pie; a few a
bottle or
canteen of milk, cold tea or coffee, but I did not see a particle of fruit. One little girl
who had been stretching jerseys at 2 cents each made a lunch on three graham
crackers and a piece of custard pie, which she ate reading a paper-covered book. I
counted
thirty-seven girls with a lunch of dry bread, fifteen with sandwiches, and ten who
ate cold
pancakes. Twenty-three girls were without any luncheon whatever. During the intermission the
elevator stopped running and no one left the building but myself. Less than ten minutes
was
spent over the wretched mea. At one side of the west wall, separated by a
ten-foot pine partition, was the toilet-room containing an iron zinc with one faucet
of
running water.
Here the girls crowded like so many cattle, each with her
bit of soap and grimy cotton towel, to wash. Dress waists were loosened and necks,
faces,
arms, and hands lathered with soap and rinsed, as the change permitted. There were three
closets, unflushed, untidy, and unwholesome. Set up against the wall in this enclosure,
with
the faucet run through the partition, was a barrel of ice water inscribed in big letters:
“Two cents will be collected every Saturday for ice
water.” Besides this luxury every hand pays 12 cents a week for the
use of the machine. At 1 o’clock I finished my basket, which I dragged to
Tom, the book-keeper, who took my name and credited me with five
garments. No price had been put on the jerseys, as they were sampled goods, but
the forelady thought they would go at 60 cents a dozen, which meant 25 cents to my credit. I
didn’t get any more work till 2 o’clock because the forelady was in the
toilet-room having her bangs done up in paper. She was a pretty woman, by the way,
with a
good face and a shock of beautiful auburn hair. She had been in her position for six
years
and was drawing a salary of $35 a week. The girls had a good word for her generally, but she
struck me as being a woman without heart. At her appearance I was given a basketful of
jerseys to finish button-holes. I
worked like a Trojan for an hour, at the end of which I won the heart
of a little girl who sat at the end of my table facing the wall. She had been sitting still
so long that I called out and asked if she were ill. “No. I haven’t any work.”
Tired almost to exhaustion and as
hot as a newly-built mustard plaster I was only too glad of a chance to transfer
my interests, but she declined.
It was too hot to work; she was going away soon, she said, and didn’t care to do any
more.
“When did I begin? Today. I worked in a box-factory, but it was so dull I could only earn 16
cents a day. My mother wants me to pay her $2.50 a week board, but how could I with 96
cents. This is no better. I came at 8 this morning and I have only made 11 cents. I am 21.
Beaus? Yes, some. I have on steady fellow, but I don’t know if he will marry me. I
hope he
will. She told me he earned 75$ a month as a telegraph operator on the board of trade; that
he was “steady as a steeple, and the only fellow she ever loved.” I told her how to go about
catching the prosperous telegrapher and rehashed a recipe given me by no less a personage
than Mrs. John M. Sherwood, which I had never tried. She was going to a
picnic at Garfield park at 6 o’clock and brought over a 25-cent
chocolate cake to show me. Then she loaned me her scissors, told me good-by, and went
home
to dress for the fete. Nothing of any importance occurred till someone passed the news that
a girl was asleep in the closet. Half a dozen left their machines to look at her,
Hannah, my mentor, among them. “Oh, you just ought to see her, fast
asleep, with her mouth wide open.” It was more than I could stand. I threw my
button-holes into the basket and went to the toiletroom.
Sure enough, there was the poor girl sitting in the dirty place, her
head resting against a folded apron, breathing in the foul air that reeked with filth
and disease. The walls of the closet were black with pencil marks,
the floor was strewn with lint and threads, and the pale face of the sleeper looked
ghastly
in the darkness. She had tied one end of a string to the latch and the other to the
drop
chain.
*Nell Nelson:“My dear child, musnt’t sleep here. Are you sick?”* *Female Speaker:“Oh, I am so sick.”*
Instantly there were a dozen willing hands to help her out to a window
where a chair was placed for her. We rubbed her temples, chafed her hands, bathed
her
head, and got her some lemons. After making her toilet she came over to my
table as I sewed away at my button-holes she told me her story.
*Female Speaker: “Rose and I are only six months in this country. We came from
England with our brother and live on Carpenter
street. The climate doesn’t agree with me and I am sick all the time. At
first we worked in Marshall Field’s and Rose and I
made fringe. We got $7 a week and were so happy. It was awful nice there. We didn’t have to
pay for drinking water or anything; there were lots of towels, whole cakes of soap,
and oh,
it was so clean. We had a foreman over us and he was as good as a brother to us. Sometimes
we let our money lay and drew it in a pile; oh, such a lot as it was! We put away
very much
of it. But I got sick and all we ‘ad saved went for doctor and medicine. Then the work
stopped. They took our names though and promised to send for us in the fall. For a
while we
worked in the box factory, but liked to starve. Then we went to
Ellinger’s and made cloaks at 30 cents each, but it was
so hard, and we couldn’t please them no matter how we tried. We came here today, but it’s
only a fit place to starve in. All the work they gave me was a dozen jerseys to
button; that’s 11 cents a row; had two dozen holes to finish at 16 cents. Twenty-seven cents
for the two of us! How can we live on it?”* and the child began to cry again. *Nell Nelson:By way of
comforting her I took her name, promised to help her, and gave her my check for 41 cents.*
She didn’t think it would be honored so I took it to the cashier myself and demanded
pay as
I was not coming back in the morning. *Male Speaker:“No, ma’am,”* said Tom, *Male Speaker:“you don’t
get it. Come round on the 20th and I hunt you up.”*
At 5:30 work ceased. Each girl had to
sweep out her place, clean and oil the machine, and return her basket and check. I paid a
nickel to have my corner swept, and finding it impossible to wash up sans towel and
soap I
got under my veil and rang the elevator. The pressers laughed and told me to try the
stairs—five flights. Down I went. At the second I went into the salesroom to buy a
jersey. One of the firm waited on me; his magnanimity was sublime. The
identical black jersey that I had received 5 centsfor finishing was offered to
me at $2. I declined. By way of interest, one hundred dozen garments are turned out of the
factory every day in the year. As near as I could learn the salaries average $4 a
week, but
plenty of grown women are not allowed to earn over 28 cents a day. Work begins at
7:30 a. m.
and 12:30 p. m. Anyone five minutes late working on time is fined an hour’s pay, and
for the
loss of an hour the pay of half a day is knocked off. Piece-workers who are late are
kept
idle form one to three hours. A girl who loses her ticket forfeits pay for the entire
work,
not withstanding the entry is on the books of the firm.