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Jacob A. Riis. Out of Mulberry Street: Stories of Tenement life in New York City
Out of Mulberry Street: Stories of Tenement life in New York City
Table of Contents
PREFACE
MERRY CHRISTMAS IN THE TENEMENTS
’TWAS LIZA’S DOINGS
THE DUBOURQUES, FATHER AND SON
ABE’S GAME OF JACKS
A LITTLE PICTURE
A DREAM OF THE WOODS
A HEATHEN BABY
HE KEPT HIS TRYST
JOHN GAVIN, MISFIT
IN THE CHILDREN’S HOSPITAL
NIGGER MARTHA’S WAKE
A CHIP FROM THE MAELSTROM
SARAH JOYCE’S HUSBANDS
THE CAT TOOK THE KOSHER MEAT
FIRE IN THE BARRACKS
A WAR ON THE GOATS
ROVER’S LAST FIGHT
WHEN THE LETTER CAME
THE KID
LOST CHILDREN
THE SLIPPER-MAKER’S FAST
PAOLO’S AWAKENING
THE LITTLE DOLLAR’S CHRISTMAS JOURNEY
A PROPOSAL ON THE ELEVATED
DEATH COMES TO CAT ALLEY
WHY IT HAPPENED
THE CHRISTENING IN BOTTLE ALLEY
IN THE MULBERRY STREET COURT
SPOONING IN DYNAMITE ALLEY
HEROES WHO FIGHT FIRE
Отрывок из книги
Jacob A. Riis
Published by Good Press, 2019
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Together they composed a note to Santa Claus, speaking for a doll and a bell—the bell to play “go to school” with when she was kept home minding the baby. Lest he should by any chance miss the alley in spite of directions, little Rosa was invited to hang her stocking, and her sister’s, with the janitor’s children’s in the school. And lo! on Christmas morning there was a gorgeous doll, and a bell that was a whole curriculum in itself, as good as a year’s schooling any day! Faith in Santa Claus is established in that Thompson-street alley for this generation at least; and Santa Claus, got by hook or by crook into an Eighth-Ward alley, is as good as the whole Supreme Court bench, with the Court of Appeals thrown in, for backing the Board of Health against the slum.
But the ice-cream! They eat it off the seats, half of them kneeling or squatting on the floor; they blow on it, and put it in their pockets to carry home to baby. Two little shavers discovered to be feeding each other, each watching the smack develop on the other’s lips as the acme of his own bliss, are “cousins”; that is why. Of cake there is a double supply. It is a dozen years since “Fighting Mary,” the wildest child in the Seventh-Avenue school, taught them a lesson there which they have never forgotten. She was perfectly untamable, fighting everybody in school, the despair of her teacher, till on Thanksgiving, reluctantly included in the general amnesty and mince-pie, she was caught cramming the pie into her pocket, after eying it with a look of pure ecstasy, but refusing to touch it. “For mother” was her explanation, delivered with a defiant look before which the class quailed. It is recorded, but not in the minutes, that the board of managers wept over Fighting Mary, who, all unconscious of having caused such an astonishing “break,” was at that moment engaged in maintaining her prestige and reputation by fighting the gang in the next block. The minutes contain merely a formal resolution to the effect that occasions of mince-pie shall carry double rations thenceforth. And the rule has been kept—not only in Seventh-Avenue, but in every industrial school—since. Fighting Mary won the biggest fight of her troubled life that day, without striking a blow.
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