From The Shame of the Citiesby Lincoln Steffens

Muckraking journalist Unccln Steffens investigated political corruption in American cities. As you readthis excetpt from his boole, consider why he viewed Philadelphia as "a disgtace not to itself alone,nor to Pennsylvania, but to the United States ."

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The Philadelphia machine isn't the best. It isn'tsound, and I doubt if it would stand in NewYork or Chicago. The enduring strength of thetypical American political machine is that it isa natural growth--a sucker, but deep-rooted inthe people. The New Yorkers vote forTammany Hall. The Philadelphians do notvote; they are disenfranchised, and theirdisenfranchisement is one anchor ofthefoundation of the Philadelphia organization.

This is no figure of speech. The honestcitizens of Philadelphia have no more rights atthe polls than the Negroes down South. Nor dothey fight very hard for this basic privilege.You can arouse their Republican ire by talkingabout the black Republican votes lost in theSouthern States by white Democraticintimidation, but if you remind the averagePhiladelphian that he is in the same position,he will look startled, then say, "That's SO, that'sliterally true, only I never thought of it in justthat way." And it is literally true.

The machine controls the whole process of.voting, and practices fraud at every stage. Theassessor's list is the voting list, and theassessor is the machine's man .... The assessorpads the list with the names of dead dogs,children, and non-existent persons. Onenewspaper printed the picture of a dog,another that of a little four-year-old Negroboy, down on such a list. A ring orator in aspeech resenting sneers at his ward as "lowdown" reminded his hearers that that was theward of Independence Hall, and, naming thesigners ofthe Declaration of Independence, heclosed his highest flight of eloquence with thestatement that "these men, the fathers ofAmerican liberty, voted down here once.And, " he added, with a catching grin, "theyvote here yet."

Rudolph Blankenburg, a persistent fighterfor the right and the use ofthe right to vote(and, by the way, an immigrant), sent out justbefore one election a registered letter to each

voter on the rolls of a certain selected division.Sixty-three per cent were returned marked "notat," "removed,""deceased," etc. From one four-story housewhere forty-four voters were addressed,eighteen letters came back undelivered; fromanother of forty-eight voters, came back forty-one letters; from another sixty-one out of sixty-two; from another forty-four out of forty-seven.Six houses in one division were assessed at onehundred and seventy-two voters, more than thevotes cast in the previous election in anyone oftwo hundred entire divisions.

The repeating is done boldly, for themachine controls the election officers, oftenchoosing them from among the fraudulentnames; and when no one appears to serve,assigning the heeler [local political partyworker] ready for the expected vacancy. Thepolice are forbidden by law to stand withinthirty feet ofthe polls, but they are at the boxand they are there to see that the machine'sorders are obeyed and that repeaters whom theyhelp to furnish are permitted to vote without"intimidation" on the names they, the police,have supplied.

The editor of an anti-machine paper whowas looking about for himself once told me thata ward leader who knew him well askeU himinto a polling place. "I'll show you how it'sdone," he said, and he had the repeaters goround and round voting again and again on thenames handed them on slips. "But," as theeditor said, "that isn't the way it's ' done." Therepeaters go from one polling place to another,voting on slips, and on their return roundschange coats, hats, etc.

from Lincoln Steffens, The Shame of the Cities(New York: 1904). Reprinted in Richard B.Morris and James Woodress, eds., Voices FromAmericag Past, Vol. 2, Backwoods Democracyto World Power (New York: Dutton, 1963

From "How the Other Half Lives"By Jacob Riis .

Jacob Rils, a Danish immigrant, worked for 12years ;n theLower ~st Side a.s ~ police rep.orter. for the New ~ork Tribune.In 1890, he publjshed a book called How the Other Half Lives. proVldmg a shockmg View of slum life.

cannot keep the baby, need we complain=suchas we?"

Such as we! What if the words ring in yourears as we grope our way up the stairs anddown from floor to floor, listening to thesounds behind the closed doors--some ofquarrelling, some of COarsesongs, more ofprofanity. They are true. When the summerheats come with their suffering they havemeaning more terrible than words can tell.Come over here. Step carefully over this baby-it is a baby, spite ofits rags and dirt=underthese iron bridges called fire escapes, butloaded down, despite the incessantwatchfulness of the firemen, with brokenhousehold goods, with washtubs and barrels,over which no man could climb from a fire.This gap between dingy brick walls is the yard.That strip of smoke-colored sky up there is theheaven of these people. Do you wonder thename does not attract them to the churches?That baby's parents live in the rear t6nementhere. She is at least as clean as the steps we arenow climbing. There are plenty of houses withhalf a hundred such in. The tenement is muchlike the one in front we just left, only fouler,closer, darker-we will not say more cheerless.The word is a mockery. A hundred thousandpeople lived in rear tenements in New Yorklast year. Here is a room nearer than the rest.The woman, a stout matron with hard lines ofcare in her face, is at the washtub. "I try tokeep the childer clean, " she says,apologetically, but with a hopeless glancearound. The spice of hot 'soapsuds is added. tothe air already tainted with the smell of boilingcabbage, of rags and uncleanliness all about.

Be a little careful, please! The hall is dark andyou might stumble over the children pitchingpennies hack there. Not that it would hurtthem; kicks and cuffs are their daily diet. Theyhave little else. Here where the hall turns anddives into utter darkness is a step, and another,another. A flight of stairs. You can feel yourway, if you cannot see it. Close? Yes! Whatwould you have? All the fresh air that everenters these stairs comes from the hall doorthat is forever slamming, and from thewindows of dark bedrooms that in turn receivefrom the stairs their sole supply ofthe elementsGod meant to be free, but man deals out withsuch niggardly hand. That was a woman fillingher pail by the hydrant you just bumpedagainst. The sinks are in the hallway, that allthe tenants may have access-and all be .poisoned alike by their summer stenches. Hearthe pump squeak! It is the lullaby of tenementhouse babes. In summer, when a thousandthirsty throats pant for a cooling drink in thisblock, it is worked in vain. But the saloon,whose open door you passed in the hall, isalways there. The smell of it has followed youup. Here is a door. Listen! That short hackingcough, that tiny, helpless wail what do theymean? They mean that the soiled bow of white[a sign of mourning] you saw on the doordownstairs will have another story to tell----Oh! a sadly familiar story--before the day is atan end. The child is dying with measles. Withhalf a chance it might have lived; but it hadnone. That dark bedroom killed it.

"It was took all of a suddint," says themother, smoothing the throbbing little bodywith trembling hands. There is no unkindnessin the rough voice of the man in the jumper,who sits by the window grimly smoking a claypipe, with the little life ebbing out in his sight,bitter as his words sound: "Hush, Mary! Ifwe

from Jacobgiis, How the Other HaljLit:es:Studies among the Tenements of New York(Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press,1970),32-34.

How I Got Rich by Honest GraftBy: George PlunkettMark Twain referred to the late nineteenth centuryas "The Gilded Age" because he believed wealthwas masking the corruption of American society.At the local level, political machines -led by"bosses" - bought votes by promising immigrantsfood, shelter, and other needed services. Bossesalso received kickbacks from people who wantedcity jobs and companies that wanted city contracts.The most notorious political machine wasTammany Hall in New York City. George Plunkett,a Tammany Hall boss, argued in favor of "honestgraft".

Everybody is talking these days aboutTammany men growing rich on graft, but nobodythinks of drawing the distinction between honest-...graft and dishonest graft. There's all the differencein the world between the two. Yes, many of our -men have grown rich in politics. I have myself.I've made a big fortune out of the game; and I'm _getting richer every day, but I've not gone in fordishonest graft - blackmailing gamblers, saloon- _keepers, disorderly people, etc. - and neither has -any of the men who have made big fortunes inpolitics.

There's honest graft, and I'm an example ofhow it works. I might sum up the whole thing bysaying, "I seen my opportunities and I took 'em."

Just let me explain by examples. My party'sin power in the city, and it's going to undertake a lotof public improvements. Well, I'm tipped off thatthey're going to layout a park at a certain place.

I see my opportunity and Itake it. Igo tothat place and I buy up all the land I can in theneighborhood. Then the board of this or that makeits plan public, and there is a rush to get my land,which nobody cared particular for before.

Ain't it perfectly honest to charge a goodorice and make a nrofit on mv investment and maker- -- -----~--.-- "" wi .

a profit on my investment and foresight? Of courseit is. Well, that's honest graft. !.,;,

Or supposing it's a new bridge they're going :to build. I get tipped off and I buy as muchproperty as I can that has to be taken forapproaches __I sell at my own price lateron.and drop.some more money inthe bank.

Wouldn't you? It's just like looking aheadin Wall Street or in the coffee or cotton market. It'

s honest graft, and I'm looking for it every day [of]the year. I will tell you frankly that I've got a goodlot of it, too ...

I've told you how I got rich by honest graft.Now, let me tell you that most politicians who areaccused of robbing the city get rich the same way.

They didn't steal a dollar from the citytreasury. They just seen their opportunities andtook them. That is why, when a reformadministration comes in and spends a half milliondollars in trying to find the public robberies theytalked about in the campaign, they don't find them.

The books are always right. The money inthe city treasury is all right. All they can show isthat the Tammany heads of departments lookedafter their friends, within the law, and gave themwhat opportunities they could to make honest graft.Now, let me tell you that's never going to hurtTammany with the people. Every good man looksafter his friends, and any man who doesn't isn'tlikely to be popular ....

Tammany was beat in 1901 because thepeople were deceived into believing it workeddishonest graft. They didn't draw a distinctionbetween dishonest and honest graft, but they sawthat some Tammany men grew rich and supposedthey had been robbing the treasury or levying •blackmail on disorderly houses, or working in withthe gamblers and lawbreakers. -

As a matter of policy, if nothing else, whyshould the Tammany leaders go into such dirtybusiness when there is so much honest graft lyingaround when they are in power? Did you ever ,consider that?

Now, in conclusion, I want to say that Itdon't own a dishonest dollar. Ifmy worst enemywas given the job of writing my epitaph when I'mgone, he couldn't do more than write: "GeorgePlunkett. He Seen His Opportunities and He Took'Em."

Excerpt from Samuel Gompers' "Rights of the Workingman"

In this excerpt, Gompers supports the idea that men should have an 8 hour workday.~.

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" Is it not fact that we find laborers in England andthe United States, where the hours are eight, nine,and ten hours a day - do we not find that theemployers and laborers are more successful? Don'twe find them selling articles cheaper? WE do notneed to trust the modern moralist to tell us thesethings. In all industries where the hours are longer,there you will find the least development of thepower of invention. How can you expect a man towork for twelve or fourteen hours at his calling andthen devote any time to the invention of a machine ordiscovery of a new principle or force? Ifhe be sofortunate as to be able to read a paper he will fallasleep before he has read through the second or thirdline.

Why, when you reduce the hours of labor, ,rsayan hour a day, just think what it means. Supposemen who work ten hours a day had the time lessenedto nine, or men who work nine hours a day have itreduced to eight hours; what does it mean? It meansmillions of golden hours and opportunities forthought. Some men might say you will go to sleep.Well, some men might sleep sixteen hours a day; theordinary man might try that, but he would soon findhe could not do it long. He would have to dosomething. He would probably go to the theatre onenight, to a concert another night, but he could not dothat every night. He would probably becomeinterested in some study and the hours that have beentaken from manual labor are devoted to mental labor,and the mental labor of one will produce for himmore wealth than the physical labor of a dozen hours.

The man who works the long hours has nonecessities except the barest to keep body and soultogether, so he can work. He goes to sleep anddreams of work; he rises in the morning to go towork, he takes his frugal Iunch to work; he comeshome again to throw himself down on a miserableapology for a bed so that he can get that little rest thathe may be able to go to work again. He is nothingbut a veritable machine. He lives to work instead ofworking to live.

My friends, the only thing me workingpeople need besides the necessities of life, is time.Time. Time with which our lives begin; time withwhich our lives close; time to cultivate the betternature within us; time to brighten our homes. Time,which brings from the lowest condition up to thehighest civilization; time, so we can raise men to ahigher plane.

My friends, you will find that it has beenascertained that there is more than a million of ourbrothers and sisters - able-bodied men and women -on the streets, and on the highways and byways ofour country willing to work but who cannotfind itYou know that it is the theory of our government thatwe can work or cease to work at will. It is only atheory. You know that it is only a theory and not afact. It is true that we can cease to work when wewant to, but I deny that we can work when we will,so long as there are a million idle men and womentramping the streets of our cities, searching for work.

What we want to consider is, first, to makeour employment more secure, and secondly, to make ,:. ,wages more permanent, and thirdly, to give thesepeople a chance to work. The laborer has beenregarded as a mere producing machine ... I say weare American citizens with the heritage of all thegreat men who have stood before us; men who have ,sacrificed all in the cause except honor. Our enemies " .would like to see this movement thrust into hades . .[hell] ... but I say to you that this labor movement, ' .•. '. -has come to stay. I say the labor movement is a fixed .fact, It has grown out of the necessities of the people," ,: ..and, although some may desire to see it fail ..• we'will go on until success has been achieved.

We want eight hours and nothing less. We ('have been accused of being selfish; and it has beensaid that we want more ... we do want more. Youwill find that a man generally wants more. You ask aworkingman, who is getting two dollars a day, and hewill say that he wants ten cents more. .. The manwho receives five thousand dollars a year wants sixthousand dollars a year ... while the man who hashis millions will want everything he can lay his handson and then raise his voice against the poor devil whowants ten cents more a day. We live in the latter partof the nineteenth century. In the age of electricityand steam that has produced wealth a hundred fold,we insist that it has been brought about by theintelligence and energy of the workingmen, andwhile we find that it is now easier to produce and it isharder to live. \VE do want more, and when itbecomes more, we shall still want more. And weshall never cease to demand more until we havereceived the results of our labor ...

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From "Twenty Years at Hull House"By Jane Addams

On September 18, 1889, social reformers Jane Addams and Ellen Gates Starr moved into Hull House, a dilapidatedmansion in the midst of'the Chicago slums. As you read this excerpt. think about why they undertook this socialexperiment .,.

I n those early days we were often asked whywe .had come to live on Halsted Street whenwe could afford to live somewhere else. Iremember one man who used to shake his headand say it was "tile strangest thing he had metin his experience," but who was finallyconvinced that it was "not strange but natural "In time it came to seem natural to all of us thatthe Settlement should be there. If it is natural.to

/ feed the hungry and care for the sick, it is cer-tainly natural to give pleasure to the young,comfort to the aged, and to minister to thedeep-seated craving for social intercourse thatall men feel. Whoever does it is rewarded bysomething which, if not gratitude, is at leastspontaneous and vital and lacks that irksomesense of obligation with which a substantialbenefit is too often acknowledged ....

From the first it seemed understood that wewere ready to perform the humblestneighborhood services. We were asked to washthe newborn babies, and to prepare the dead forburial, to nurse the sick, and to "mind thechildren."

Occasionally these neighborly officesunexpectedly uncovered ugly human traits. Forsix weeks after an operation we kept in one ofour three bedrooms a forlorn little baby who,because he was born with a cleft palate, wasmost unwelcome even to his mother, and wewere horrified when he died of neglect a weekafter he was returned to his home; a littleItalian bride of fifteen sought shelter with usone November evening, to escape her husbandwho had beaten her every night for a weekwhen he returned home from work, because shehad lost her wedding ting ....

We were also early impressed with thecurious isolation of many of the immigrants; anItalian woman once expressed her pleasure inthe red roses that she saw at one of ourreceptions in surprise that they had been"brought so fresh all the way from Italy." She

would not believe for an instant that they had been grownin America. She said that she had lived in Chicago for sixyears and had never seen any roses,whereas in Italy she had seen them every summer ingreat profusion. During all that time, of course, thewoman had lived within ten blocks ofa florist's win-dow; she had not been more than a five-cent car rideaway from the public parks; but she had neverdreamed offining forth for herself, and no one hadtaken her. Her conception of America had been theuntidy street in which she lived and had made herlong struggle to adapt herself to American ways.

But in spite of some untoward experiences, wewere constantly impressed with the uniform kind-ness and courtesy we received. Perhaps these firstdays laid the simple human foundations which arecertainly essential for continuous living among thepoor: first, genuine preference for residence in anindustrial quarter to any other part of the city, -because it is interesting and makes the human .appeal; and second, the conviction, in the words ofCanon Barnett [the founder of the first settlementhouse, Toynbee Hall, in London] that the thingswhich make men alike are finer and better than thethings that keep them apart, and that these basiclikenesses, if they are properly accentuated, easilytranscend the less essential differences of race, lan-guage, creed, and tradition.

Perhaps even in those first days we made abeginning toward that object which was afterwardsstated in our charter: "To provide a center for ahigher civic and social life; to institute and maintaineducational and philanthropic enterprises; and toinvestigate and improve the conditions in theindustriai districts of Chicago,"

from Jane Addams, Twenty Years at Hull-House (Urbana:

University ofIllinois Press, 1990),65-66.