Night at Ellis Island with Wrecked Mankind.
On wire and canvas cots, on wooden benches, and not infrequently on tiled floors, hundreds of men sleep each night on Ellis Island, in New York City. These men are not immigrants, although many, but by no means most, of them are aliens. They are homeless, hungry men, who have neither work nor the wherewithal to live, a condition that is in dire contrast to the comfortable and happy existence of those who live in the small cities and towns of our land, but one that for months has been experienced by thousands of unfortunates in our metropolitan centers.[Pg 56]
The island has been thrown open to them ungrudgingly, first because of the sympathetic understanding of Commissioner Frederic C. Howe, and, second, because the sudden fall in immigration has left unoccupied a great many rooms and hundreds of cots previously needed for those who came, as many of these men came, to the Land of Promise.
You do not have to look closely at these men to see how poorly dressed they are; but, if you were to spend a night with them, you would find that beneath their soiled and wretched outer covering there is no clothing, and that the flesh, that is weak, in many cases is sore and infected and in need of care. For with them underwear long since has become a bitter memory of better days, and their feet are without socks and their boots without soles.
Now, these men are not lazy men. Let there be no misunderstanding as to that. Any one can satisfy himself on that score by announcing that he needs a man to work. He will be surrounded by a hundred men, who will not merely clamor for the job, but will actually beg for it. Some time ago twenty men were needed to cut ice. It was cold work, in cold season, but scores of men stepped forward when the call was made, and not one of them had a stitch of underclothing to his body! The employment agent who engaged the number needed supplied them with warm garments out of sheer pity for them.
Here is what Commissioner Howe has to say of them:
“The unemployed men have been coming to Ellis Island for the past five months. The numbers for the last two months have averaged between seven hundred and eight hundred each night. The men are perfectly orderly, and are most grateful for the opportunity offered them for sleeping some place other than in the parks, under the bridges, or any other such places as are open to them. They required no policing, and have not given us a bit of trouble in that time. A large percentage of them rush eagerly to the bathroom as soon as they arrive at the island. They maintain barbers and clothes menders to keep in good condition, and are, so far as I can judge, making every possible effort to retain their self-respect under terrible conditions.
“It is almost complete presumption to my mind in favor of a man if he is willing to sleep night after night on a hard wood floor, without any covering over him, and that is what many of the men have been doing. They get what little food they have as best they can, and the great majority of them are in a state of chronic hunger. It seems to me a far greater reflection upon this rich city that these men should be left wholly to their own fate than it is upon the men themselves, for they cannot create their own employment; many of them are in rags, and do not present a good appearance, and some of them are so weak and enfeebled by long exposure that they are hardly in position to help themselves.”
It was to learn something of these men at first hand that a reporter, dressed as one of them, and unshaved and of sorry appearance, joined their company for one never-to-be-forgotten night on the island. But the suf[Pg 57]fering and discomfort were more than made up for by the fact that, although these were rough men, in the privacy of the room in which we slept—except for some swearing—there was not spoken one word that any woman might not have heard. It is really a splendid thing to be able to say that.
These unfortunate men say they are much happier within the hospitable halls of Ellis Island than they ever could be at the municipal lodging institutions, which they criticize very unfavorably and with various reasons, among their objections being too many unnecessary questions asked, entirely too much work expected for the amount of assistance given, and many times no food at all when food is due; in other words, they pronounce organized charity, as exemplified in New York, a proved failure so far as it benefits those for whom it is supposed to be carried on.