Children of the Tenements

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Jacob August Riis. Children of the Tenements

PREFACE

THE RENT BABY

A STORY OF BLEECKER STREET

THE KID HANGS UP HIS STOCKING

THE SLIPPER-MAKER'S FAST

DEATH COMES TO CAT ALLEY

A PROPOSAL ON THE ELEVATED

LITTLE WILL'S MESSAGE

LOST CHILDREN

PAOLO'S AWAKENING

THE LITTLE DOLLAR'S CHRISTMAS JOURNEY

THE KID

WHEN THE LETTER CAME

THE CAT TOOK THE KOSHER MEAT

NIBSY'S CHRISTMAS

IN THE CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL

NIGGER MARTHA'S WAKE

WHAT THE CHRISTMAS SUN SAW IN THE TENEMENTS

MIDWINTER IN NEW YORK

A CHIP FROM THE MAELSTROM

SARAH JOYCE'S HUSBANDS

MERRY CHRISTMAS IN THE TENEMENTS

ABE'S GAME OF JACKS

A LITTLE PICTURE

A DREAM OF THE WOODS

'TWAS 'LIZA'S DOINGS

HEROES WHO FIGHT FIRE

JOHN GAVIN, MISFIT

A HEATHEN BABY

THE CHRISTENING IN BOTTLE ALLEY

IN THE MULBERRY STREET COURT

DIFFICULTIES OF A DEACON

FIRE IN THE BARRACKS

WAR ON THE GOATS

HE KEPT HIS TRYST

ROVER'S LAST FIGHT

HOW JIM WENT TO THE WAR

A BACKWOODS HERO

JACK'S SERMON

SKIPPY OF SCRABBLE ALLEY

MAKING A WAY OUT OF THE SLUM

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I have been asked a great many times in the last dozen years if I would not write an "East-side novel," and I have sometimes had much difficulty in convincing the publishers that I meant it when I said I would not. Yet the reason is plain: I cannot. I wish I could. There are some facts one can bring home much more easily than otherwise by wrapping them in fiction. But I never could invent even a small part of a plot. The story has to come to me complete before I can tell it. The stories printed in this volume came to me in the course of my work as police reporter for nearly a quarter of a century, and were printed in my paper, the Evening Sun. Some of them I published in the Century Magazine, the Churchman, and other periodicals, and they were embodied in an earlier collection under the title, "Out of Mulberry Street." Occasionally, I have used the freedom of the writer by stringing facts together to suit my own fancy. But none of the stories are invented. Nine out of ten of them are just as they came to me fresh from the life of the people, faithfully to portray which should, after all, be the aim of all fiction, as it must be its sufficient reward.

Troubles come not singly, but in squads, once the bag be untied. It was not the least sore point with Adam that he had untied it himself. They were doing well enough, he and his wife, in their home in Leinbach, Austria, keeping a little grocery store, and living humbly but comfortably, when word of the country beyond the sea where much money was made, and where every man was as good as the next, made them uneasy and discontented. In the end they gave up the grocery and their little home, Hansche not without some tears; but she dried them quickly at the thought of the good times that were waiting. With these ever before them they bore the hardships of the steerage, and in good season reached Hester Street and the longed-for haven, only to find—this. A rear basement, dark and damp and unwholesome, for which the landlord, along with the privilege of keeping a stand in the street, which was not his to give, made them pay twelve dollars a month. Truly, much money was made in America, but not by those who paid the rent. It was all they could do, working early and late, he with his push-cart and at his stand, she with the needle, slaving for the sweater, to get the rent together and keep a roof over the head of little Abe.

.....

"Mebbe it was for the best," said Kate, irresolutely; "he might have took after—Tim—you know."

The shrouded figure sat immovable, Kate eyed it in silence, and went her way.

.....