In 1910, after a prolonged strike, peace was declared under a “protocol,”[19] wherein were combined unique methods devised for the control of shops and adjustment of difficulties between the association of progressive manufacturers and the trades unions. New terms—“a preferential union shop” and the “Joint Board of Sanitary Control”—were introduced. Under the latter, for the first time in the history, of industry, sanitary standards were enforced by the trade itself. On this board, the expense of which was shared equally by the association of manufacturers and the trades unions, were representatives of both organizations, their attorneys, and three representatives of the public unanimously elected by both parties to the agreement.
When I was asked to be one of the three representatives of the public, already laden with responsibilities I was loath to accept another, but the temptation to have even a small share in the socializing of industries involving in New York City alone nearly 100,000 people and several hundred millions of dollars was irresistible.
High sanitary standards and a living wage, with reasonable hours of employment, were assured so long as both parties submitted to the terms of the protocol. Whatever changes in the administration of the trade agreement may be made, the protocol has established certain principles invaluable for the present and for future negotiations. The world seemed to have moved since we shuddered over the long hours and the germ-exposed garments in the tenements.[20]
CHAPTER XVI
NEW AMERICANS AND OUR POLICIES
Illuminating anecdotes might be told of the storm and stress that often lie beneath the surface of the immigrant’s experience from the time he purchases his ticket in the old country until the gates at Ellis Island close behind him and the process of assimilation begins. That he has so often been left rudderless in strange seas forms a chapter in the history of this “land of opportunity” that cannot be omitted.
The confusion of the stranger, unable to speak the language and encountering unfamiliar laws and institutions, often has tragic results. Once in searching for a patient in a large tenement near the Bowery I knocked at each door in turn. An Italian woman hesitatingly opened one, no wider than to give me a glimpse of a slight creature obviously stricken with fear. Her face brought instantly to my mind the famous picture of the sorrowing mother. “Dolorosa!” I said. The tone and the word sufficed, and she opened the door wide enough to let me enter. In a corner of the room lay two children with marks of starvation upon them.
Laying my hat and bag upon the table, to indicate that I would return, I flew to the nearest grocery for food, taking time, while my purchases were being made ready, to telephone to a distinguished Italian upon whose interest and sympathy I could rely to meet me at the tenement, that we might learn the cause of this obvious distress.
My friend arrived before I had finished feeding the children, and to him the little mother poured forth her tale. She, with three children, had arrived some days before, to meet the husband who had preceded her and had prepared the home for them. One bambina was ill when they reached port, and it was taken from her, why she could not explain. She was allowed to land with the other two and join her husband, and the following day, in answer to their frantic inquiries, they learned that the child had been taken to a hospital and had died there. Then her husband was arrested, and she, unacquainted with a single human being in the city, found herself alone with two starving children, too frightened to open the door or to venture upon the street. She thought her husband was imprisoned somewhere nearby.