Men and Things

by Henry A. Atkinson

The United States Bureau of Labor tells the story in figures. Five hundred yards of checked gingham can be made by a machine in 73 hours; by hand labor it would take 5,844 hours. One hundred pounds of sewing cotton can be made by a machine in 39 hours; by hand labor it would take 2,895 hours. The labor costs are proportionate. The increased effectiveness of a man’s labor aided by the use of machinery, according to these reports, varies from 150 per cent. all the way up to 2,000 per cent. Hence, we see that the machine is not so much a labor-saving device as it is a production-making device. As has been said already, it is man’s energy and strength multiplied many times. The machine has become so potent that the question is, “What relation shall the created thing be to the creator?” The machine sets the pace. The man or woman working with it must follow. It is exacting, implacable, produces through long hours; is set up in the midst of high temperatures, and is utterly indifferent to the fate of the individuals operating it. It works at night, it works by day and under conditions which are humanly impossible; but human beings are forced to keep the pace. The textile cities of America with their rows of tenements are practically built by the machinery in the mills and factories. The system has grown up, and men and women are forced to adjust themselves to this system. The welfare and happiness of the individuals working at the machines are very likely to be matters of secondary importance to the value of the production of the machinery itself.

The Workers. At the present time in the United States there are about 1,000,000 people employed in all the textile industries and about $500,000,000 a year paid in wages. About one and three quarter billions is the total value of the production. The worker in these mills is a worker and little or nothing else. The struggle for mere existence takes so much of his time that he has slight opportunity and but small inclination to take part in any social or civic affairs. He usually lives in a tenement or in a barrack type of building provided by the company for which he works.

The Southern Mill Village. In the Southern mill towns the companies usually own all the houses in which the people live. These houses are generally one-story buildings with a porch extending along the entire front. All of them are alike, and most of them are painted gray or drab. The streets of the mill village are unpaved and in most places cut into gullies by the rains. In a few places running water, bathtubs, electricity, and other modern conveniences have been provided, but these are the rare exceptions. More often the houses are barren of all comforts, and living is reduced to the lowest possible terms. The mill village has ordinarily but one store and this is owned or controlled by the company. The food eaten by the people is of the simplest kind; corn bread, pork side-meat, and coffee make up the staples of diet. Nearly all the members of the family work in the mill. At an investigation made by a state commission in Atlanta, Georgia, one of the men testified that he, his wife, five of his children, and his wife’s sister all worked in the mill; there were three younger children who stayed at home, the oldest one of the three acting as housekeeper and nurse. The improvements that most people expect as a matter of course, such as fire-proofing, sanitary plumbing, lighting, heating, storage, bathing, and washing facilities are utterly unknown. If you spent a day in one of these mill villages, you would find one or two members in almost every family sitting on the porch of the house and away from work because of sickness. If a neighbor happens to pass, you would hear some such conversation as this: “Howdy? How are you feeling?” “Poorly, thank you, I have never felt worse in my life; my victuals just don’t seem to agree with me, an’ I just feel like I was of no account.” The vitality of the people is being sapped by the insanitary conditions under which they live. It was discovered some years ago that hookworm is the cause of the illness that has been preying upon these workers for generations. The dangerous worms thrive in the midst of filth. A clean-up of the village and the building of better homes almost certainly eliminates the disease and its cause.

The people of the mill village find most of their recreation in the near-by city. Nearly all of the principal Southern cities have a number of these villages contributory to it. In many a home the only piece of finery is the tawdry dress made up in what is supposed to be the latest style—certainly the most exaggerated style—and usually in the most striking colors. This is the Sunday dress of the young lady of the house. When she is ready for her day off in the city, her costume will be completed by the addition of a hat of the most marvelous and striking make and color.

The Motion-Picture’s Contribution. The motion-picture theater has been a godsend to the people of the mill village. Most of these workers are very ignorant. Hard living and incessant toil have deprived them of the opportunity of attending school, and even if there were the will to get an education, the schools have not been accessible in many instances; consequently, the people have merely the rudiments of an education, and many of them can neither read nor write. Hundreds of homes in these villages have no books except an almanac and a Bible. The needs of the workers are almost overwhelming, so that one hardly knows where to begin even to tell about the changes that must be made in a community before much benefit can be secured in the lives of the individuals. The motion-picture has brought to these workers scenes from the outside world and has enlarged their ideas of life. Any one can understand the lesson a picture teaches.

Copyright, H. C. White Company.

In the cotton-mills a worker is a worker and little or nothing else.

The motion-picture furnishes amusement and recreation, and it gives a glimpse of larger aims and new motives. The girls who dress up in their fine clothes and gaudy hats and go to the city whenever they have a chance are trying to express themselves. Inherently they have fine traits of character, but out of their ignorance and lack of experience they are unable properly to balance the proportion of color and style and make these to fit in with the facts of every-day life. There is no one to teach them; they are unable to go to dressmakers for advice, and the people with whom they associate admire the kind of finery that they wear. But when they see these pictures presented on the screen they get a chance to know how people in other places really live and act. As one girl said: “I only learned how to be a lady when I got to see ladies’ pictures at the movies.”

Improvements. Some of the mills have built model villages, have furnished good schools, churches, playgrounds, and other recreational features. There have been discouraging failures made in attempting to lead the people to accept the better things; but the failures are insignificant when compared to the successes that have been achieved by the companies that have really had the welfare of the workers at heart. One mill owner has put in the finest kind of equipment in the homes of the people. The hours of labor have been materially reduced: first they began with eight, now they have seven, and this reformer says that he believes that they will be able to reduce the hours still further and make the six-hour day the standard. He intends to put on four shifts of workers for each twenty-four hours and believes that he will get a better result than could be achieved even with the eight-hour day. It is interesting to note that this man, by paying higher wages than others and by reducing the hours of labor, has been able to secure permanence among his workers; and at this period when other mills are shorthanded, he has all the labor that he needs. “It is not philanthropy but good sense” is his way of defining the splendid work he is doing.