I walked toward the Mission and as I went I caught sounds of a drunken brawl in a saloon. A little farther on a “scarlet girl” with a sad face tapped on the window and smiled. Just as I reached Front Street the police wagon came hurriedly dashing down the street. Three stalwart members of the police force, on the pay roll of the city of Rochester, got out of the wagon when it stopped at the Mission. I thought I must be mistaken in the place and that it was a police station. But no, there was the sign: “Sunshine Rescue Mission.” The officers entered. Brutally and roughly they brought out two men, thrust them into the wagon and took them off to the prison. They were scarcely out of sight before another policeman came down the street with another man whom he hurried into the Mission.
From the time I entered Rochester until I left, I saw evidences of a “vice trust,” the depravity of which could only be conjectured. I did not dare remain there for I trembled at the thought of a homeless man asking for aid in that institution of a “humane” Christian city. I hurriedly left Rochester for here more than any place that I had been in there seemed to be something “rotten in Denmark.”
CHAPTER XXIV
Cleveland—The Crime of Neglect
“A servant grafted in my serious trust And therefore negligent.”—Shakespeare.
The midnight bell was striking. The great city of Cleveland was going to rest as I rode to my hotel. I, too, was soon resting,—but not sleeping. I was forming a resolution to become absolutely indigent for an extended time. My assumed destitution previously had been of very brief periods, always having money at my hotel or in my pockets for my immediate needs. “What,” I reasoned, “does the man who at any moment can place his hand in his pocket and secure relief know of the real struggle of the penniless and homeless worker?”
I looked myself over. I was healthy, comparatively strong. I had no trade, yet was clever at many things. I was honest, sober, willing, industrious. So I entered, with an iron-clad resolve, into a mental contract, signing and sealing it, that I would go penniless to Memphis, Tenn., with a determination to secure work on the government works on the Mississippi river for the winter. For I had discovered in my study from New York to Cleveland many moneyless men striving to reach these government works.
I would not steal, nor beat a railroad train, nor beg, but if forced to do so, I would ask succor from those institutions which stand, ostensibly, ready to help the needy. My itinerary, briefly given, would be, Cleveland to Cincinnati, Cincinnati to Louisville, Louisville to Memphis.
The next morning, after sending my baggage on to Memphis and paying my hotel bill, I was completely broke, and found myself on the streets of Cleveland, destitute, looking for work. I strolled up to the Public Square while I was considering the best course to pursue. I had pulled on my blue jeans over a pretty good business suit, for my investigation was to be of that class of toilers who must work with their hands as well as of the class that does those things we faultily regard as more polite work. Destitute, homeless, friendless, I must honorably reach the government works,—that was the point I had to keep ever in mind. My first thought was as a hopeful medium to find work,—the newspapers. Stepping up to a news-stand I asked for a paper, and thrust my hand deep down in my pocket for the price. Thus it was that it came to me forcibly for the first time that I was broke. I looked at the news-vender as he handed me the paper and said, “Never mind, old man, I have left my pocketbook at home.” Then I remembered I had a postage stamp and thought of offering that in exchange; but I remembered a long delayed letter which must be sent home, and so I kept the stamp. I thought of the many places where the newspapers were on file and the newspaper offices.