Death at Pullman (9 page)

“Alden, Miss Addams trusted
me
to come down and organize the relief station. She is out trying to get donations. But I am the one who needs to deal with them. That's what I came for and that's what I have been doing.” I was indignant. It was true that I had concentrated on the task at hand, to the exclusion of anything else. There had been people to assign, contents to be sorted out, and inventory to be recorded so we could account for every penny of every contribution. I had gathered some of the waiting people into a committee to begin to decide the criteria for who should receive relief, how much each should receive, and how it should be dispensed. I knew from experience that there would be chaos when we came to actually distributing the relief packages, if this was not done first. And I knew if I had not paid strict attention and organized the stacking, it would have taken twice as long to complete. But I lacked the energy to argue with my ever-energetic brother. I sighed. “I admit it, Alden, I don't know what you are talking about.”

“Debs,” he said with a self-satisfied air. “Eugene V. Debs of the American Railway Union. He's downstairs and he brings with him the aura of success.”

 “Debs organized the American Railway Union,” Alden told me, “but more importantly he led it to a major victory in April. There was a strike on the Great Northern Railway up in Minnesota. James J. Hill is the owner and he's a tough one. But Debs went up and negotiated. They were out eighteen days and they got the wage increases in the end. Everybody thinks he'll do it again here. And if he does, every man, woman and child connected to any railroad is going to join the ARU. He's here, downstairs in a secret committee meeting.”

I'd heard of James Hill but, unlike George Pullman, I had never met him. From what Alden was saying, Debs had been able to deal with one wealthy industrialist, so perhaps could manage another. I only hoped he would have better success than Miss Addams and Mr. Safer. I couldn't believe in it, however.

“There is supposed to be a general meeting. That's what I've been waiting for,” Alden told me. “But the crowd is getting so big, they may have to move it out of Turner Hall. There's a grandstand on the other side of Pullman. It's on what they call Athletic Island. I'm just waiting to hear when the meeting will be and where.” He looked around at all the boxes. “Of course, I would have helped if you needed it. With the boxes, I mean.” He looked up at the crates around us. “You've got to leave this and come, Emily. You don't want to miss seeing it.”

Looking at my little brother, I realized that I would always think of him as the child I had followed around when he was just learning to walk. I would never be able to see him clearly as the young man he was now, when I always had that picture of a toddler superimposed on the figure before me. I had a hard time thinking of him as a newspaper reporter.

“Alden, how is Clara? Have you seen her?”

His eyes widened and I thought he flinched. “She'll be returning to Kentucky soon. Then she goes to Woods Hole for the summer. She's finishing her classes.”

Clara was a tall, striking woman I'd befriended during my first year at the university. She came from a wealthy family in Louisville and was pursuing graduate studies in chemistry. Blinded by my own prejudices, it had been a shock for me to realize that a mutual affection had grown up between her and Alden. But the deaths of our parents left us very poor. I sensed that he saw that discrepancy in fortune as a great impediment. “She sent a note about the date of her departure, but I was given this assignment and I had no time to see her off.”

“Oh, Alden.”

“She'll be gone to the East soon enough. Chapman is supposed to go, too, you know. I heard he got a fellowship to work in the laboratory at Woods Hole.”

There was a whistle from the stairwell and Alden jumped down from the crate on which he'd perched. “That's it. I posted one of the boys outside the meeting, to warn me when they were done. Come on, Em. They must be leaving for the Athletic Island.”

He disappeared through the door and I looked around for more organizing to do, but decided Alden was right this time. I really did need to hear what Mr. Debs had to say. So I put away the ledger and locked up, then followed my brother down to the floor below where half a dozen men were just filing out of the meeting room. We followed them down to the street where a large number of people had gathered, just as Alden had told me. The committee began to lead them all in an impromptu parade across the town of Pullman. Alden had his notebook open and he skipped along in front of one of the leaders asking questions as he went. This must be Mr. Eugene V. Debs, president of the ARU. He looked about forty years of age and was nearly six feet tall. His hair was thinning to the point where he was starting to go bald and he wore spectacles, but his clean-shaven face was open and pleasant. He seemed amused by my brother as he strode along, answering his questions willingly.

“Why, the boys all over the country are clamoring to tie up the Pullman cars. They are in an inflammatory mood and longing for a chance to take part in this affair. The Pullman conductors—who get salaries of twenty-five dollars a month and are obliged to depend on the charity of the public to get enough to live on—would be glad of the chance to go out. Such men are in the mood to get even with the company that compels them to work under this system. The whole country is in an inflammable condition. I never saw it in such a condition before. When a man gets two dollars a day he can live and is therefore a coward—afraid to try to get more—but when he gets cut down to one dollar and forty cents, or worse yet, one dollar, he gets desperate. The difference between that and no money at all is so slight he feels he has nothing to lose and everything to gain by a strike.”

As we walked along 112th—a great crowd of people by then, perhaps twenty abreast—I could see across the park to the hotel, where guests stood on the veranda watching us march by. But Mr. Jennings and his cronies wisely chose to stay inside until we passed.

A shorter, vigorous man with a big smile on his face was walking beside Debs. I learned later that he was Mr. Howard, second in command of the union. He told Alden, “The international convention of the ARU will meet in Chicago next week. Then we'll see what happens.”

It was very hot in the late afternoon sunshine. When I slowed down and dropped back, wiping a sleeve against my forehead, I found Mr. MacGregor beside me. Repeating his thanks for the efforts to provide relief, he seemed more energetic and optimistic than he had been before.

“We believe the strike will not last long, Miss Cabot. We‘ve learned the company kept twenty clerks on the payroll so they must not anticipate it will last long. But we expect them to try to lure the men away by opening again. I should not be surprised to see placards on the gates next Monday.” We could see the front gates in the distance and he gestured towards them as we passed. “They'll announce that all who want to return to work at the old wages can do so. When the company finds no one will come back, then it will be ready to negotiate. The officials are talking nonsense when they say they can get repair work done at railroad shops, for they know that this would cause a strike in the shop where it was attempted and the railroads will not try it.” He shook his head knowingly.

The man beside him was Mr. Stark. He said, “They say the notices to the men will tell them that, unless they go to work at once, they will never be given employment in the Pullman shops again. It's got some of the men nervous.”

“All we have to do is all hang together,” Mr. MacGregor corrected him. “That's all. You'll see. We hope we will not have to depend on your relief for too long, Miss Cabot. There is great hope that this will all be over by next week.”

We reached Athletic Island then and filed onto the wooden grandstand. It faced Lake Calumet, so there was a slight breeze. I shaded my eyes and watched as Mr. Debs jumped up onto a wooden table placed in front of the stands. The crowd grew quiet in order to hear him. He had a voice that carried but seemed never to be raised.

“It is unnecessary for me to say that I am with you heart and soul in this fight. As a general thing I am against a strike, but when the only alternative to a strike is the sacrifice of rights, then I prefer a strike. There are times when it becomes necessary for a man to assert his manhood. I am free to confess that I do not like the paternalism of Pullman. He is everlastingly saying, ‘What can we do for our poor working-men?' The interrogation is an insult to the men. The question is not what can Mr. Pullman do for us? It is what can we do for ourselves.” There was a burst of applause at this as if it was the one thing they had been waiting for someone to say. He went on. “Under this system of paternalism in vogue it is only a question of time until they have your souls mortgaged. It will not be ten, nay five, years before they will take you forever under this system. If you will follow Mr. Howard's advice there is no power on earth to make this strike a failure. Division means defeat and disaster.”

There was a huge round of applause and hooting as he waved to the crowd, and eventually he hopped down from the table, to be replaced by a more nervous-looking Mr. MacGregor, who urged the men to stay at home and to abstain from drinking whisky. He told them, “The strike will be ended by this time next week. The officials are already growing sick of it, and would be glad to have you go back to work. The receipts of the Pullman Palace Car Company have fallen off one-half since the strike began, evidence that the public means to show its disapproval of the Pullman Palace Car Company's treatment of its workmen. The dispatch from St. Paul in the
Tribune
, saying that American Railway Union men would refuse to haul Pullman coaches, is the announcement of the beginning of the end.” This brought another cheer and ended the session on a high note of enthusiasm.

When I stood to look for Alden and Dr. Chapman, feeling it was time to take a train home, I found Mr. Raoul LeClerc at my elbow. “Mr. LeClerc, will the railroad men really boycott the Pullman cars?”

He looked around. The other people around us in the stands were already filing down the stairs. “There will be no formal action until the convention next week, but they still want to wave it like a threat at the company. You can be sure, Miss Cabot, that there were at least a dozen Pinkerton men here today, ready to report every word back to the company officials. It's how they work.”

My eyes strayed to the departing crowd. It would be impossible to know all of them. I saw my brother and Mr. MacGregor waiting for me at the bottom, so I started down followed by Mr. LeClerc.

“What do you think, Emily? Aren't you glad you came now?” Alden asked.

“Mr. Debs is a very good speaker. I hope he's right and that the men will prevail. From the people I've met I've learned that conditions are very bad and have been for some time. I only hope we can provide sufficient supplies to relieve the needs of the most desperate here. And I hope desperation will not drive the men to attack the company. Detective Whitbread has been investigating the report of a bomb plot.”

Mr. MacGregor denied this vigorously. “We are going to protect the property of the company with our lives if necessary. We have one hundred men patrolling the vicinity day and night. If a stranger goes near, he is followed until his business is found out. We are not afraid of our own men, Miss Cabot, but we are afraid of toughs from the city, who may take advantage of the strike. We shall make no effort to prevent the company from putting new men to work if it wishes to.” He noticed Alden taking down his words in a notebook. “Yes. You should print that, young man. We will destroy no property and make no effort to prevent the company from doing as it pleases. We rely on the sympathy of the public and other workingmen to pressure the company. Now, if you will excuse me, I must see to the patrols. Thank you again, Miss Cabot.”

He left, surrounded by a crowd of men asking questions about their assignments or the plan of action for the next day. Mr. Debs and Mr. Howard stood among a group of other men who wanted to shake their hands and speak to them. I turned to Alden. “Where is Dr. Chapman? I think it's time to get the train back to the city.”

“He left, went back by an earlier train. Didn't you know? He looked very tired. I think he must have seen twenty patients today.” He consulted his notebook. “There were five cases of malaria—it seems the swampy nature of the land leads to it. I'll take you back to town, only first Mr. LeClerc, here, was going to take me to meet some of the people on Fulton Avenue. From what he tells me, they'll be in need of your help over there all right.”

I was disappointed. Despite the awkwardness at the start of the day, I wanted to tell Stephen of all I had seen and to hear the same from him. I was curious about his impressions of Mr. Debs and Mr. MacGregor. I planned to argue that Brian O'Malley could not have been a company spy and I was confident I could convince him now. But he had escaped my arguments. Just as he suddenly disappeared after I refused his proposal—again he had just left me. I had to admit that he never treated me as if I required his assistance in order to do something as simple as taking a train back to town. I was glad of that. And I knew he would have duties to attend to in the laboratory. But I was disappointed nonetheless. I found I wanted to talk to him. Instead, I walked off the island with Alden and Mr. LeClerc and found myself on Fulton Avenue at the far eastern side of Pullman.

Here, there were long rows of brick tenement buildings three stories high with nine families in each house, each family having two or three rooms, with five or six people to a family. Before we entered the first one, Mr. LeClerc stopped.

“You should understand that most of these people have been used to earning a living and enjoying the comforts of life. It is only in the last year that most of them have fallen into the current conditions and you will find them extremely reluctant to give their names. Many would rather suffer the pangs of hunger than the embarrassment of allowing their condition to be known. I have assured them you will not print their names, Mr. Cabot.”

Alden agreed eagerly and we began our tour, visiting many of the rooms. It was much worse than I expected. The first man we met was a carpenter who supported a wife and two children aged one and four. They had two small rooms with four pieces of furniture and not a bit of food in the house at all. He told us that many a night in the past year they had gone to bed with no meal whatsoever. Although skilled in his trade, he earned only seventy-five dollars a year on the Pullman wage scales. He paid almost eight dollars a month in rent, and was currently twelve dollars behind, plus he owed thirteen dollars to the doctor. He was very fearful of being evicted.

In another building, we met a family with three small children. The man was gaunt and stood at attention, telling us he was a cabinetmaker who made only enough to bring home two dollars for two weeks work after paying the rent of nine dollars and ten cents for their three rooms. His wife sat wrapped in a blanket on one of the two chairs in the room. It was obvious that she was ill. But the man seemed to want to have his story told. He said that on the last payday he drew seven dollars for his work but decided to take it all home. He said the rent collector had been after him the next day, but he kept the money and now owed eighteen dollars rent.

While he was talking, his wife hugged the blanket around her shoulders, rocking back and forth. She shut her eyes and seemed to listen, but when Alden turned to her and politely asked about how it was for her and the children, she stared into his eyes for a moment and made an effort to speak. Her lip trembled and she dissolved in tears.

“There's nothing, not a thing. They cry all the time for something to eat, but I have nothing. We go to bed and get up and have nothing, nothing all day. He fainted on the job even. He fainted because he had nothing to eat.” She shook her head and pulled the blanket tightly about her, despite the warmth of the evening. Her husband patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. “I don't want to live this way any longer. I sometimes think I will take the children and jump into the lake.”

The men were embarrassed. I took her hand and knelt to look into her eyes. “You must not do that, Mrs. Miller. You must promise me not to do that. I am Emily Cabot and I have been sent by Jane Addams at Hull House to set up a relief center. We've brought food, Mrs. Miller. You shall have some tomorrow, I promise you.” She pulled away her hand and covered her face, sobbing quietly. I stood up and faced her husband. He looked very gaunt. “You must come to Turner Hall first thing tomorrow morning. We just unpacked the food this afternoon and will be ready in the morning. You must promise me you will come.” I sensed that Dr. Chapman and Mr. LeClerc were right about the people. They did not want to admit they needed help. It was not the strike that had caused this want, it only brought it to the brink. These people had been living like this for months. As we left the bleak atmosphere of the Millers's rooms I promised myself that, no matter how busy I was the next morning, if I did not see Mr. Miller I would bring them the food myself.

I thought this would be the most memorable visit of the day, but Mr. LeClerc took us up and down Fulton Avenue where we met many others in similar circumstances. There were many families who had gone with no meal for the whole day. In fact, more often than not, that was the case. There were shop-girls supporting aged mothers, who earned so little they lived in daily fear of being evicted for being overdue with their rent. There was sickness left untreated because there wasn't even enough money to buy a loaf of bread, never mind to pay for the doctor. I lived for a year among the tenements of the West Side of Chicago, where Hull House resides, and I thought I had seen enough of poverty and squalor that I could not be shocked. But the contrast between the prosperous-looking town with its lawns and flowerbeds, and the hunger within the walls of these tenement buildings, was somehow more shocking. That day I had eaten at the Florence Hotel, while so many of these children had gone hungry. My stomach turned as we passed the hotel, on the way to the station, after our tour. “They certainly have need of your services,” Alden said uncertainly as we walked along. I could see that he was as shocked as I was.

“Yes, but now I am afraid we will run out of food. I must tell Miss Addams—I don't think she has any idea of the number of people in such distress.”

“Now you see what Debs means when he says Pullman would own them,” Mr. LeClerc said, as we reached the clean and pleasant little Illinois Central station. From here you could not see Fulton Avenue. The view was designed to show off the impressive mass of the administration building, with the clock tower in the middle, overlooking an artificial lake to the north. It seemed like a picture painted on top of a glass window that, if you reached out and touched it with your hand, would smear, and if you wiped it away, the view would be no better than the rickety tenements of the West Side.

Raoul LeClerc waved his arm at the town behind him. “Pullman owns all of this and he would own the workers, too, if we let him. That's why we have to stop him. We have to break him. Even if we have to blow up every building in his model town.”