Salome Shepard, reformer

by Helen M. Winslow

When the musicians had finished, Salome stepped forward, and not without some inward quaking, made her first speech.

It was an occasion the Shawsheen Mill hands never forgot. Salome, always well and appropriately dressed, had not slighted them by refusing to appear at her best. She wore a white China silk costume, rightly thinking her young people would be readily reached by the gospel of good clothes. Her gown was simply made, but fitted exquisitely her well-proportioned figure. Neck and wrists were finished with beautiful old point lace, and she did not scorn to wear her grandmother’s diamonds.

Her attractive appearance, her cordial and interested manner, and her winning voice had pleaded her cause with the critical operatives before she had uttered a half-dozen sentences. Her sincerity and earnestness went straight to their sensibilities, and, before she had suspected it, every heart in the room was hers.

“My dear friends,” she began, “I never made a speech in my life, and cannot now. I never stood on a platform before; and only my interest in every one of you brings me here to-night. I only want to say that this building, which you see now for the first time, and which I hope will prove a happy home for many of you, is built to my grandfather’s memory. Some who are present to-night remember him and love him still, I hope.”

Here several gray-haired men in the audience nodded their heads, and one was heard to mutter, “Ay, ay, we do.”

“If he had lived, I think everything in the factory would have been different. Your lives would have been different; and mine, too, perhaps. For one thing, I don’t believe you and I would have grown up strangers to each other. You know, by this time, I am sure, that I have a glorious plan for making the Shawsheen Mills the best on earth.

“Not by tearing down mills and building new and more elegant ones; not alone by making costly improvements; but by having—and mind, this is the only way it can be done,—by having the best and most conscientious and intelligent class of operatives in this country,—and that will mean, of course, in the world. Now, you all know I cannot do this alone; every one of you has a part in carrying out this plan of mine. And unless you all agree to help, it will fail. Don’t think I want you to do any impossible thing. I only want every one of you to be the best and do the best you possibly can. You and I are going to have some splendid times in the future. We’re going to get better acquainted with each other. We are going to become real friends. On your part, you are going to deserve my good opinion and my honest friendship; on my part, I’m going to deserve your confidence and trust and love; and between us we are going to show the people of Massachusetts that a cotton-factory can become something more than a great machine to grind out yards and yards of unbleached sheeting; and that its operatives can become something better and greater than so many smaller wheels in the machinery. We will show that a factory community may be, and is, a prosperous, happy, contented and intelligent people.”

Some of the young men could contain themselves no longer, and broke into enthusiastic applause as Salome uttered the last sentiment. Villard chuckled secretly as he observed that the leaders in it were the heads of the committees in the recent strike.

“I’m so glad you agree with me,” said Salome heartily, when the noise had subsided. “Now, I want to tell you about this house. The rooms are all ready for occupancy. I think there are accommodations for all who care to come. You are to leave the old boardinghouses on the corporation, and I shall have them taken down at once. The price of board will remain the same as at the old houses. The reading-rooms are ready, the library is yours, and we shall soon find means of entertainment and work, which will keep us all contented, I hope. Mr. Villard will occupy rooms on this floor, and the matron, whom I will shortly present to you, will be on the girls’ wing. There will be but few rules, and those, I trust, not irksome. I cannot imagine that any one will not be willing to obey them. The new houses on the hill are all ready for the families on the corporation to move into. A few of the larger and better houses are to be let at an increased rental; but most of them will be let at the old rates. We have a plan, by which any one who wants to, may, after a little, buy a house and pay for it by monthly installments, just the same as you pay rent. But I will not go into details. Mr. Fales will be at the first cottage on the hill, and you can all make arrangements with him at any time after to-morrow morning. Now I have talked too long, I know, and am going to stop. I want to have you hear what Mr. Burnham and Mr. Villard have to say; but first we must have some music.”

If Salome could have read the trembling waves of sympathy and reverence which were already vibrating from the hearts of the young people whom she had addressed, she would not have sat down with the feeling of self-distrust and failure which followed her speech. The experience, the very atmosphere, was unique in the history of industrial experiments.