One Diversion of the Older Boys
In the judgment of such mothers a boy’s good nature makes up for serious dereliction. A fellow who is thoroughly “in wid de push,” according to her is “just wild like, not bad. He’s thot obliging and does onything I ask about the house.” Many a slip is forgiven a stalwart fellow by the woman who is feeding and clothing him if he brings in her coal, puts up a curtain, and does not “answer back.” So great in their lives is the dearth of common kindliness. When he takes to his heels, she confesses to “feelin’ kind o’ lonely without Dan around,” and nine times out of ten she welcomes him back when his spell of wandering is over.
Too often, however, this good feeling is absent and active antagonism and bickering marks the spirit of the place called “home.” The mother who from “feelin’ it her duty to talk to ’em though they don’t pay no heed” degenerates into the “nagger,” and so has taken the fatal step which makes impossible anything like affection or harmony between her and the boy. The result is always the same: the sullen fellow slouching before the querulous, upbraiding parent, resentful in every line, ready to jerk away snarling, or to flash out in a pitched battle of tempers, leaving behind bitterness, misunderstanding and anger. Sometimes this shipwreck is accepted with a Spartan quiescence; lifelong experience forces these women for mere self-preservation into an endurance grown easier than revolt. Yet the suffering is great, and these mothers, inadequate and weak as they are, form one of the most pitiful chapters in the story of juvenile delinquency.
But there is the woman, here as everywhere, who refuses to fold her hands, who is alert and decisive. She is not likely to be found in homes where the most stringent pressure of want or overwork is felt. Yet she is not of necessity the best educated or most refined. She is always shrewd, with a keen perception of the boy’s side of the story, but also with a very clear and determined perception of her own. Very likely she was born and brought up within a few blocks of her present home. But the experiences of her own childhood form no parallel to those of this generation. In her day everything to the west of Tenth Avenue was open playgrounds; truant officers were unknown, and an arrest was a thing to be spoken of in whispers. Still she has grown up with the district and has listened to the current gossip. Her first axiom is that no knowledge of a boy’s doings will come amiss; her second, that such information cannot be expected from the boy himself. Even among the best of women a system of spying is carried on, although the wisest do not make this apparent unless occasion demands, but quietly “keep an eye on that boy.” It may be a strong motive for staying in an undesirable block that “If we go, James’ll just be back here an’ then he’ll be out from under me.” They understand the fallacy of moving to separate a boy from bad company, unless one can go to a suburb, from which there are difficulties in the way of transportation to the West Side. When conversation among the boys can be overheard they “take occasion to listen.” “I don’t go out very much but I’ve me ways o’ findin’ out,” says Mrs. Moran, “an’ they know they can’t fool me.”
The amount of credit to give to tale bearing and complaints is a question to puzzle the shrewdest. It is an important source of information, yet “you can’t believe everything you hear.” The irate complainant who fails to get the expected warmth of support from maternal authority needs to realize that the life of the West Side boy is one continuous fracas with the landlord, the janitress, the corner grocery man, the “Ginnie” paper dealer, and the “cop.” Complaints come to the mother from all sides and are often unfounded. “I had him up in the house for playin’ hookey, an’ I watched them fellows crookin’ the bolognie off the cart myself, or I might a’ thought it was him.” Moreover, it is understood that a boy has a right to expect a certain amount of support from his mother. Her defense is natural, but she cannot carry it too far or a boy may lose all fear of restraint at home. One mother told of hearing a youngster boast, “Aw—g’wan—tell my mother—she don’t care what I do.” “And that hurts,” she said with emphasis, “fer a boy to give his own mother a name like that.”
Altogether “it’s no easy matter bringin’ up a boy in New York.” Truancy and cigarettes are issues on which many a judicious woman must confess defeat. She knows that surface evidence is not to be taken. The appearance of a boy at the proper hours with his books does not prove that they have not been “kept” in a candy store while the youngster had an eye on the time. Smoking is still harder to regulate, and though a youngster “don’t dare to do it in the house” few women feel sure as to what happens outside. One confessed to avoiding the issue. “I knew he was smoking a long time—smelt it—but I never let on. I thought he’d do it open if I did and do it more.” Amusements which can safely be sanctioned are hard to find. Pigeon flying almost always is frowned upon for fear of accidents on the roofs and because “them pigeons are the ruination of b’ys, keepin’ them out o’ school, an’ into the comp’ny of them big toughs as has ’em.” Every shade of opinion is expressed in regard to the “nickel dumps,” as the moving picture shows are called. Some believe that “them places is the worst thing that ever happened to New York, settin’ b’ys to gamblin’ and stealin’.” Others set upon them the seal of approval. “A b’y’s got t’ do somethin’ an’ I don’t see no harm in a good show that keeps him off the streets.”
It goes without saying that these families have no very large sums of money to give their children, but the wisdom of allowing a boy some spending money is recognized. It is, in fact, far more essential than in most communities, for here almost everything desirable must be paid for, from carfare to a ball ground to the highly coveted coin for a nickel show. Money is usually given to school boys in small quantities and for definite things. “If he gets a quarter a week, he doesn’t get it all at once.” And the boy must show that it was spent as intended. With the boy who is working, the amount he contributes to the household is an important basis of judgment on his character. If he works regularly and hands over his envelope, he may still have peccadilloes, but his main duties are accomplished. If, on the other hand, he is “wise” and “deep,” he will lie as to what he is earning and keep more than is thought to be his due. Or, all too often, he will scorn work altogether and his mother will be known to “have had bad luck with that boy.” The outsider often expresses pity for the child who must hand over the bulk of his meager earnings. But the moral sentiment of the neighborhood insists upon this duty, and with good reason, for the rearing of children is indeed no easy matter here, even when it has not gone much further than supplying necessities. Often the price paid in weariness, pain, and ill-health has been sore, and the slight help that the child can contribute after the long years of waiting is the father’s or mother’s due.
Nevertheless, when a boy reaches working age, some allowance from his earnings is his by right, and it is this fact which adds to his desire to leave school early. During the first year, when the wage ranges from $3.50 to $5.00 a week, an allowance of 50 cents seems to be general. Occasionally, 25 cents is considered enough, but this is generally felt to be “stingy.” At the same time, “it is not for a boy’s good havin’ too much in his hands.” Sometimes he has $1.00 a week and buys his own clothes. Lunch money and carfares to work are, of course, allowed extra. Tips are generally accorded to be his own; it is a mark of high virtue to surrender them. A woman will tell with pride, “He knew I was hard up and he gave me his tips.” Occasionally a mother dislikes to have her son working in a place where he is tipped, because it is then impossible to know how much money is rightfully his. He can account very easily for the possession of a surplus. The amount a boy is spending is always a matter on which a canny mother “has her eye.” Any doubt brings the sharp question, “Now, where did you get the money for that?” If he is unduly “flush” he is on the borderline of danger, and her suspicions are keen. She knows that the temptation to petty theft is constant. As his wages rise his spending money increases, and if he still lives at home at the age of eighteen or nineteen he usually ceases to hand over his earnings but pays for his board. With this increased independence comes a general feeling that the time of subservience is passing and that “you can’t say much to a boy of that age.”
On the whole, this type of mother is lenient and broadminded, realizing that “you can’t keep a boy tied to your apron strings,” and too sensible to set up any impossible standards. But the wisest of them know—and rare and valuable, indeed, is such wisdom—that once a boy has passed the boundary line, punishment must be meted out in no faltering or indecisive way. “He don’t dare do that, he knows he won’t be let,” spoken with a certain emphasis, carries weight, and lucky is the boy who with consistency and firmness “is not let.” But on the West Side such discipline is not common.
Many of the mothers reflect the average opinions of the neighborhood. They are rough-and-ready Irish women who give themselves no airs and “don’t pretend to be better than the people they was raised with”; women with a coarse and hearty good nature, easy-going standards, and, if occasion demands, a good assertive tongue. As a rule, the burden of discipline sits easily on their shoulders. “Oi juist drrive thim out—th’ whole raft o’ thim,” says Mrs. Haggerty, blessed with eight children and four rooms. “Oi can’t be bothered with th’ noise o’ thim, Oi’m that nearvous.” These women are not necessarily “a bad lot” as the district goes, but neither are they over-particular. If a boy has no complaints from school, or has held his job and managed to keep out of the hands of the “cop” for the last few months, “he’s a good b’ye,” and any “wildness” in his past can be excused and forgotten. On the other hand, if he has happened to give “trrouble,” the chance visitor is likely to hear the tale from A to Z and, if the youngster has had the bad luck to be present, with a good, round scolding for him thrown in.