Good housing that pays /

by Fullerton L. Waldo

But ancient history or present picturesqueness meant little to the brawling population outside the gate of the churchyard, where switching-engines chugged along the docks and factory chimneys clogged the air and iridescent surface drainage meandered from yard to yard and made alleys pestilential. Foul privy-wells undermined the yards and the foundations of the houses; the rafters had in many places rotted away; the cellars were repositories of rubbish.

There was fine raw material here among the boys and men for a hand of guidance and an inspiring personal presence—but most of it was very raw indeed. The drink wrought mischief among the womenfolk too; the children ran at large; the gangs of hoodlum boys played hide-and-seek with the policemen to steal lead pipe, to shatter windows, to break into the vacant houses and despoil them. Six of the houses taken by the Association were unoccupied. Each house was in a deplorable condition.

The expenditure on these houses by the Association averaged $186.

The brickwork had to be painted; plumbing, painting, carpentering and plastering were necessary. At first the tenants were often unruly and irresponsible; fights were of frequent occurrence. Though the rents were low—$6.50 to $10.00 a month—the tenants often fell behind in payment, and there were many unprofitable “unlets.”

But with unwearied patience the Association strove to create among the people in its houses a sense of thrift, of honor, of self-respect, even of community spirit. It did not permit itself to be discouraged by backsliding or ungratefulness. It fought on for the sake of the regeneration not merely of seventeen houses but of a community, and in 1905 it was able to offer the remarkable result of $1432.00 paid in rents out of $1445.50 due, with a return of 7½ per cent. on the investment, after paying to the Association a commission of the same percentage on the rents collected. A constant demand was created for the houses. The average period of occupancy of the present tenants is seven years and five months. The average net revenue has been nearly 6 per cent. The result is as forceful evidence as could be presented of the influence of the regular visits of the friendly rent-collectors. The Southwark Settlement—a fine and flourishing organization doing a splendid work near by—grew out of a play room and a Mother’s Club of the Octavia Hill Association. In 1916 the Association bought, under-drained and repaired the five remaining houses of the street.

But the Association did not confine its work within four walls. It took a bare, depressing, ash-heap area 20 by 80 feet, added to it the site of a house pulled down, and filled the vacancy—now known as the Hector McIntosh Playground—with swings, games and a sandpile. An ice-water fountain was placed on the sidewalk. The women said that pitchers which once went out for beer came back after that filled with ice-water instead.

One example of this kind is worth no end of homily. It is an epitome of the successful effort of the Association.

From year to year the list of properties owned, or managed by agency, has lengthened. The Casa Ravello, owned by Dr. George Woodward and operated by the Association, was opened in 1903 for the special benefit of Italians. It stands at the corner of Seventh and Catharine Streets, and right on the corner, in a store-space that could be rented for $40 a month, is a most valuable outpost of the Starr Centre Association which shows poor mothers what to do for their babies. In June, 1917, 219 different babies under two years of age were brought here for consultation. Nearly all were Italians. There were a few Jews and one colored child. “History cards” are kept, and the fluctuation of weight is traced by a graphic curve. There are home visits by nurses, and two doctors keep office-hours.

The Casa Ravello has four stories of brick, the windows made attractive by their gay boxes of geraniums, and air and light are at every window through the liberal space the courtyard leaves. The iron stairways come up through fire-towers, and there are netted verandahs safe and roomy for the youngsters of the family and the mothers resting or at work. On the roof in July and August is a playground, and a summer school for the children. Of these there are 79 in the building, and in midsummer, 1917, there was an average attendance of 45 in the school. They wear little red tags with their names, that the stranger may distinguish tiny black-eyed Domenico from the toddling frolicsome Bettina.

The mothers use the roof too—for gossiping, embroidery, for hanging clothes, for the baby’s nap in a preferred location of the hammock. There is a swing for larger children, and—safely shut away between-whiles in a cement-floored bin—there is a piano for the dance-lovers of Italy, great and small. All this for thirty-four families, at a rate which at its maximum is $14 for one of the three four-roomed apartments that boast a bath-tub.