<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></SPAN>CHAPTER III</h2>
<p class="center">CHICAGO, CHASING A WILL-O-THE-WISP</p>
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<p class="cap_1">THAT was on Sunday morning three hundred
miles south of Chicago, and at
nine-forty that night I stepped off the
New Orleans and Chicago fast mail
into a different world. It was, I believe, the
coldest night that I had ever experienced. The
city was new and strange to me and I wandered
here and there for hours before I finally found my
brother's address on Armour Avenue. But the
wandering and anxiety mattered little, for I was
in the great city where I intended beginning my
career, and felt that bigger things were in store
for me.</p>
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<p>The next day my brother's landlady appeared
to take a good deal of interest in me and encouraged
me so that I became quite confidential, and told
her of my ambitions for the future and that it was
my intention to work, save my money and eventually
become a property owner. I was rather
chagrined later, however, to find that she had
repeated all this to my brother and he gave me a
good round scolding, accompanied by the unsolicited
advice that if I would keep my mouth shut
people wouldn't know I was so green. He had been
traveling as a waiter on an eastern railroad dining
car, but in a fit of independence—which had always
been characteristic of him—had quit, and now in
mid-winter, was out of a job. He was not enthusiastic
concerning my presence in the city and
I<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</SPAN></span>
had found him broke, but with a lot of fine clothes
and a diamond or two. Most folks from the country
don't value good clothes and diamonds in the way
city folks do and I, for one, didn't think much of
his finery.</p>
<p>I was greatly disappointed, for I had anticipated
that my big brother would have accumulated some
property or become master of a bank account
during these five or six years he had been away
from home. He seemed to sense this disappointment
and became more irritated at my presence
and finally wrote home to my parents—who had
recently moved to Kansas—charging me with the
crime of being a big, awkward, ignorant kid, unsophisticated
in the ways of the world, and especially
of the city; that I was likely to end my "career"
by running over a street car and permitting the city
to irretrievably lose me, or something equally as
bad. When I heard from my mother she was
worried and begged me to come home. I knew the
folks at home shared my brother's opinion of me
and believed all he had told them, so I had a good
laugh all to myself in spite of the depressing effect
it had on me. However, there was the reaction,
and when it set in I became heartsick and discouraged
and then and there became personally
acquainted with the "blues", who gave me their
undivided attention for some time after that.</p>
<p>The following Sunday I expected him to take
me to church with him, but he didn't. He went
alone, wearing his five dollar hat, fifteen dollar
made-to-measure shoes, forty-five dollar coat and
vest, eleven dollar trousers, fifty dollar tweed
overcoat<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</SPAN></span>
and his diamonds. I found my way to
church alone and when I saw him sitting reservedly
in an opposite pew, I felt snubbed and my heart
sank. However, only momentarily, for a new light
dawned upon me and I saw the snobbery and folly
of it all and resolved that some day I would rise
head and shoulders above that foolish, four-flushing
brother of mine in real and material success.</p>
<p>I finally secured irregular employment at the
Union Stock Yards. The wages at that time were
not the best. Common labor a dollar-fifty per day
and the hours very irregular. Some days I was
called for duty at five in the morning and laid off
at three in the afternoon or called again at eight in
the evening to work until nine the same evening.
I soon found the mere getting of jobs to be quite
easy. It was getting a desirable one that gave me
trouble. However, when I first went to the yards
and looked at the crowds waiting before the office
in quest of employment, I must confess I felt
rather discouraged, but my new surroundings and
that indefinable interesting feature about these
crowds with their diversity of nationalities and
ambitions, made me forget my own little disappointments.
Most all new arrivals, whether skilled
or unskilled workmen, seeking "jobs" in the city
find their way to the yards. Thousands of unskilled
laborers are employed here and it seems to be the
Mecca for the down-and-out who wander thither in
a last effort to obtain employment.</p>
<p>The people with whom I stopped belonged to
the servant class and lived neatly in their Armour
Avenue flat. The different classes of people who
make<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</SPAN></span>
up the population of a great city are segregated
more by their occupations than anything
else. The laborers usually live in a laborer's neighborhood.
Tradesmen find it more agreeable among
their fellow workmen and the same is true of the
servants and others. I found that employment
which soiled the clothes and face and hands was
out of keeping among the people with whom I
lived, so after trying first one job, then another, I
went to Joliet, Illinois, to work out my fortune in
the steel mills of that town. I was told that at
that place was an excellent opportunity to learn a
trade, but after getting only the very roughest kind
of work to do around the mills, such as wrecking
and carrying all kinds of broken iron and digging
in a canal along with a lot of jabbering foreigners
whose English vocabulary consisted of but one
word—their laborer's number. It is needless to
say that I saw little chance of learning a trade at
any very early date.</p>
<p>Pay day "happened" every two weeks with two
weeks held back. If I quit it would be three weeks
before I could get my wages, but was informed of a
scheme by which I could get my money, by telling
the foreman that I was going to leave the state.
Accordingly, I approached the renowned imbecile
and told him that I was going to California and
would have to quit and would like to get my pay.
"Pay day is every two weeks, so be sure to get
back in time," he answered in that officious manner
so peculiar to foremen. I had only four dollars
coming, so I quit anyway.</p>
<p>That evening I became the recipient of the
illuminating<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</SPAN></span>
information that if I would apply at
the coal chutes I would find better employment as
well as receive better wages. I sought out the
fellow in charge, a big colored man weighing about
two hundred pounds, who gave me work cracking
and heaving coal into the chute at a dollar-fifty
per twenty-five tons.</p>
<p>"Gracious", I expostulated. "A man can't do
all of that in a day".</p>
<p>"Pooh", and he waved his big hands depreciatingly,
"I have heaved forty tons with small effort".</p>
<p>I decided to go to work that day, but with many
misgivings as to cracking and shoveling twenty-five
tons of coal. The first day I managed, by dint of
hard labor, to crack and heave eighteen tons out
of a box car, for which I received the munificent
sum of one dollar, and the next day I fell to sixteen
tons and likewise to eighty-nine cents. The contractor
who superintended the coal business bought
me a drink in a nearby saloon, and as I drank it with
a gulp he patted me on the shoulder, saying, "Now,
after the third day, son, you begin to improve and
at the end of a week you can heave thirty tons a
day as easily as a clock ticking the time". I
thought he was going to add that I would be shoveling
forty tons like Big Jim, the fellow who gave
me the job, but I cut him off by telling him that
I'd resign before I became so proficient.</p>
<p>I had to send for more money to pay my board.
My brother, being my banker, sent a statement of
my account, showing that I had to date just twenty-five
dollars, and the statement seemed to read
coldly between the lines that I would soon be
broke,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</SPAN></span>
out of a job, and what then? I felt very
serious about the matter and when I returned to
Chicago I had lost some of my confidence regarding
my future. Mrs. Nelson, the landlady, boasted
that her husband made twenty dollars per week;
showed me her diamonds and spoke so very highly
of my brother, that I suspicioned that she admired
him a great deal, and that he was in no immediate
danger of losing his room even when he was out of
work and unable to meet his obligations.</p>
<p>My next step was to let an employment agency
swindle me out of two dollars. Their system was
quite unique, and, I presume, legitimate. They
persuaded the applicant to deposit three dollars as
a guarantee of good faith, after which they were to
find a position for him. A given percentage was
also to be taken from the wages for a certain length
of time. Some of these agencies may have been
all right, but my old friend, the hoodoo, led me to
one that was an open fraud. After the person
seeking employment has been sent to several places
for imaginary positions that prove to be only myths,
the agency offers to give back a dollar and the disgusted
applicant is usually glad to get it. I, myself,
being one of many of these unfortunates.</p>
<p>I then tried the newspaper ads. There is usually
some particular paper in any large city that makes
a specialty of want advertisements. I was told, as
was necessary, to stand at the door when the paper
came from the press, grab a copy, choose an ad
that seemed promising and run like wild for the
address given. I had no trade, so turned to the
miscellaneous column, and as I had no references
I<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</SPAN></span>
looked for a place where none were required. If
the address was near I would run as fast as the
crowded street and the speed laws would permit,
but always found upon arrival that someone had
just either been accepted ahead of me, or had been
there a week. I having run down an old ad that
had been permitted to run for that time. About
the only difference I found between the newspapers
and the employment agencies was that I didn't
have to pay three dollars for the experience.</p>
<p>I now realized the disadvantages of being an unskilled
laborer, and had grown weary of chasing a
"will-o-the-wisp" and one day while talking to a
small Indian-looking negro I remarked that I wished
I could find a job in some suburb shining shoes in a
barber shop or something that would take me away
from Chicago and its dilly-dally jobs for awhile.</p>
<p>"I know where you can get a job like that", he
answered, thoughtfully.</p>
<p>"Where?" I asked eagerly.</p>
<p>"Why, out at Eaton", he went on, "a suburb
about twenty-five miles west. A fellow wanted
me to go but I don't want to leave Chicago".</p>
<p>I found that most of the colored people with whom
I had become acquainted who lived in Chicago very
long were similarly reluctant about leaving, but I
was ready to go anywhere. So my new friend took
me over to a barber supply house on Clark street,
where a man gave me the name of the barber at
Eaton and told me to come by in the morning and
he'd give me a ticket to the place. When I got on
the street again I felt so happy and grateful to my
friend for the information, that I gave the little
mulatto a half dollar, all the money I had with
me,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</SPAN></span>
and had to walk the forty blocks to my room.
Here I filled my old grip and the next morning
"beat it" for Eaton, arriving there on the first of
May, and a cold, bleak, spring morning it was. I
found the shop without any trouble—a dingy little
place with two chairs. The proprietor, a drawn,
unhappy looking creature, and a hawkish looking
German assistant welcomed me cordially. They
seemed to need company. The proprietor led me
upstairs to a room that I could have free with an
oil stove and table where I could cook—so I made
arrangements to "bach".</p>
<p>I received no wages, but was allowed to retain
all I made "shining". I had acquired some experience
shining shoes on the streets of M—pls
with a home-made box—getting on my knees whenever
I got a customer. "Shining shoes" is not
usually considered an advanced or technical occupation
requiring skill. However, if properly conducted
it can be the making of a good solicitor. While
Eaton was a suburb it was also a country town and
this shop was never patronized by any of the
metropolitan class who made their homes there, but
principally by the country class who do not evidence
their city pride by the polish of their shoes. Few
city people allow their shoes to go unpolished and
I wasn't long in finding it out, and when I did I
had something to say to the men who went by,
well dressed but with dirty shoes. If I could argue
them into stopping, if only for a moment, I could
nearly always succeed in getting them into the
chair.</p>
<p>Business, however, was dull and I began taking
jobs in the country from the farmers, working
through<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</SPAN></span>
the day and getting back to the shop for
the evening. This, however, was short lived, for I
was unaccustomed to farm work since leaving home
and found it extremely difficult. My first work in
the country was pitching timothy hay side-by-side
with a girl of sixteen, who knew how to pitch hay.
I thought it would be quite romantic before I
started, but before night came I had changed my
mind. The man on the wagon would drive alongside
a big cock of sweet smelling hay and the girl
would stick her fork partly to one side of the hay
cock and show me how to put my fork into the
other. I was left-handed while she was right, and
with our backs to the wagon we could make a heavy
lift and when the hay was directly overhead we'd
turn and face each other and over the load would
go onto the wagon. Toward evening the loads
thus balanced seemed to me as heavy as the load
of Atlas bearing the earth. I am sure my face disclosed
the fatigue and strain under which I labored,
for it was clearly reflected in the knowing grin of
my companion. I drew my pay that night on the
excuse of having to get an overall suit, promising to
be back at a quarter to seven the next morning.</p>
<p>Then I tried shocking oats along with a boy of
about twelve, a girl of fourteen and the farmer's
wife. The way those two children did work,—Whew!
I was so glad when a shower came up
about noon that I refrained from shouting with
difficulty. I drew my pay this time to get some
gloves, and promised to be back as soon as it dried.
The next morning I felt so sore and stiff as the
result of my two days' experience in the harvest
fields,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</SPAN></span>
that I forgot all about my promise to return
and decided to stay in Eaton.</p>
<p>It was in Eaton that I started my first bank
account. The little twenty-dollar certificate of
deposit opened my mind to different things entirely.
I would look at it until I had day dreams. During
the three months I spent in Eaton I laid the foundation
of a future. Simple as it was, it led me into
channels which carried me away from my race and
into a life fraught with excitement; a life that gave
experiences and other things I had never dreamed
of. I had started a bank account of twenty dollars
and I found myself wanting one of thirty, and to
my surprise the desire seemed to increase. This
desire fathered my plans to become a porter on a
P——n car. A position I diligently sought and
applied for between such odd jobs about town
as mowing lawns, washing windows, scrubbing
floors and a variety of others that kept me quite
busy. Taking the work, if I could, by contract,
thus permitting me to use my own time and to
work as hard as I desired to finish. I found that
by this plan I could make money faster and easier
than by working in the country.</p>
<p>I was finally rewarded by being given a run on
a parlor car by a road that reached many summer
resorts in southern Wisconsin. Here I skimped
along on a run that went out every Friday and Saturday,
returning on Monday morning. The regular
salary was forty dollars per month, but as I never
put in more than half the time I barely made twenty
dollars, and altho' I made a little "on the side" in
the way of tips I had to draw on the money I had
saved in Eaton.</p>
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<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</SPAN></span></p>
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