Grandpa's Life Adventures and Polemic.    by Ludwig Steiner

Getting started in the U.S.A.

      It was early afternoon on Saturday October 28, 1899 when we passed the Statue of Liberty. I did not know that this day was also her 13th birthday. I was impressed by the many ships in the harbor and the unique ferry boats. I had been told while on the Prinzess Wilhelm about these boats where they drive on with horse and wagon, but could not believe it. The tallest building which I went to see later was the Park Row building with its 30 stories.

      I was denied a pass for shore leave that evening, someone must have squealed on me when I mentioned that I intend to make America my new home.

      I bribed a fireman with a Mark and he got me a pass, and the great moment had arrived, after seven years of waiting. I joined some that had been in New York before, but was told that this was Hoboken and New York was on the other side of the river; what difference did it make, I was in America.

      My eyes did not leave the lunch counter, I watched a man who made himself a sandwich while the bartender was busy, another took a frankfurter and put it between two slices of bread an went to the bartender without paying. The saliva dripped from my mouth, I could not stand it any longer, I asked the Bartender if it was true what my friend had said about all this food being free. He said 'yes, help yourself, but pay for your beer'.

      I must be in paradise, all those good things that I had seen in Germany only through a plate glass window and wish for, are FREE. Back I went to the ship, put on two shirts, two pants, concealed as much clothes on my body as possible, and again went to the saloon in Newark Street, going to the mens room I took off the extra clothes, put them in a bundle and asked the Bartender to hold them for me until I returned. Again I went on board and for another Mark someone helped me to carry more clothes to the shore. My navy outfit was too valuable to be left behind but I could not save it all. It cost me a Mark for a nights lodging and Steiner spent his first night in PARADISE.

      Sunday I spent trying to get as much information as possible. A German took me to a sailors boarding house to get a ship and on Monday I changed my German money and was give $1.38.

      During the week my boarding boss took me to the American Line and put me on board of the St.Louis as coalpasser at 30 dollars a month. Our quarters on the St. Louis was under the bow deck, and my bunk had no mattress, so I had to sleep on metal straps for 7 days until I could get one from the steerage, after we landed in Southhampton. The food was terrible, there was a tub of margarine at the foot of the stairs, and firemen used their dirty fingers to get some from the tub. Three weeks later we were back in New York and I refused to enlist for another trip.

      I made up my mind to get a job on land. The N.Y. Staatszeitung (a German daily) had a blackboard in front of their building (where the Municipal building stand now) for help wanted. Among them was an add for a porter at the Old Homestead Garden on Third Avenue between 90 and 91 Streets.

      The Third Avenue Elevated took me to the 89th Street Station. At the 90th Street there was only one building in the entire block. The front looked as it had been once a fancy residential home, in the rear of which was a large barroom with a dance hall on the upper floor. I was hired, the wages $15 per month, work from 7 to 7. It was the headquarters of the Musician Union. The manager had seven large dogs in a kennel, and kept them in the barroom at night, and each dog left several drippings for me to clean. The training I had from Kunigunde made me a good porter, and I thought that after a fair trial I was in line for a raise. The answer to my polite request was: 'You goddamn greenhorn, don't you know that you are the best paid porter we ever had, and there stands a guy on the street corner waiting for your job'. As far as I was concerned I quit at the end of the month, and let him clean his dogs droppings.

      It is Christmas Eve 1899 and the Deutsch Krieger Bund (German war veterans) had a Christmas celebration. I was given two dollars as Christmas present, banked the fire in the boiler, and took the Third (Avenue) elevated to the Bowery, window shopping in hock shops and hardware stores, had two schooners of beer and was back at about 10 when the head waiter told me that the boss was looking for me. While working for wages it was my intention to give loyal service to my employer for the hours hired, but the rest of the day belongs to me to do as I please. My working hours were from 7 to 7.

      Well the boss wanted to know where I was, and I told him for a walk. He asked who gave me permission for a walk? and I told him that I don't need no permission, and that the time from 7 P.M. to 7 A.M. belongs to me. I had only two beers but he had too many, and he came at me with a broom; I told him to put down the broom or I break that watermelon on his shoulder. I went to my room, packed my bundle, and asked his wife for my pay, she asked me to stay until tomorrow. I had spent 10 cents for beer and another 10 for the Elevated, and still had $1.80 to my name, so I went back to Hoboken and slept in the same bed I had the first night in America.

      The next morning I went back for my pay. The only person in the barroom was the bartender; I asked for a beer, but he said to go to the mens room. I told him that I had no need to go but he smiled and said again. I opened the door and what I saw is hard to describe. It looked as if the Krieger Bund had a vomiting contest, and in the midst of it stood my boss with a broom in his hand and looked as he had been dragged thru the sewer. When he saw me he said 'go and change your clothes, there is a lot of work for you to do'. He did not know that I was in Hoboken without his permission. I told him that he can have the pleasure of cleaning up the miss, and the droppings of his seven dogs and consider that MY Christmas present to him. I hoped never to see him again, but did about 5 years later and at the same bar.

      Back to Hoboken I went and to the same boarding house. A few days later I had a job as fireman on the Knicker Bocker of the Cromwell Line to New Orleans. On the way down we had to bury a little girl at sea. I can still hear the wails of the heartbroken mother. In New Orleans I went to a saloon and noticed a sign in a window "No drinks sold to Niggers". I know nothing of a republic or democracy, but I know a monarchy I don't like, but America is a free country, and why can't a Nigger buy a drink if he has the money to pay for?

      After having been on two American boats I found that the pay was good but food and quarters bad. I started to look for a job on land again.

      While in a saloon in Hoboken I was introduced to the foreman of the coal gang of the North German Lloyd and hired. Longshore work is very uncertain. Little freight and many men reduce their income to a minimum. But a ship need coal, and while the work was hard and dirty, the average weekly income was much better than that of the freight gang. The pay was 25 cents per hour, day, night, or Sunday work. It would have been good pay if there was more work.

      In the freight gang was a group of 150 men called the steady gang, who were given brass checks. If a hundred men were needed the foreman would call the numbers to 100, missing men were replaced by the remaining 50. Additional help was picked by the foreman, from men waiting for work. If he liked your face you could work, if not you could go home again.

      An honest self respecting man abhors the thought of bribing a person in authority, but when he sees the silent suffering of his wife and hungry children, he swallows his pride and pays a tribute to a grafting foreman for the sake of a job, and it has been done again and again.

      It had been said that longshoremen are riff raff, they are not better nor worse than others. It is a condition that makes them what they are. The regular workman knows his time to start and to quit, the Longshoreman stands on the street in front of the dock. A ship is due but when? There was no wireless, when a ship was sighted at Fire Island it was telephoned to the company. A flag is raised at the pier to indicate that ship was sighted. How long will it be detained at the quarantine station? No one knows. The longshoreman is waiting hours on the street or saloon for the whistle to let him know that ship had arrived.

      If the hundred brass checks are sufficient to unload passenger and baggage, you can go home again and tell your wife that you had no luck. But what about the single men? They don't have to face a disappointed wife, but their small bedroom is not inviting, and the only other place was a saloon, and there are plenty on River Street.

      Five years have passed since I had been in the Salvation Army in London, so one day or rather evening we went to their quarters on Hudson Street to pass some time. A middle aged woman who spoke English and German fluently was in charge, assisted by two girls said to be sisters; one was about 18 the other about 25 years old. In London we were told what sinners we were, and that we could still be saved. It was the same here, there was singing, the rattle of tambourines, lecture and collections. After counting the collection she told us what a bunch of misers we were, and that we give more money to the barmaids than for Jesus. After the meeting the girls were sent to sell their weekly paper the War Cry. Late on night the younger came into a saloon to sell their paper. When told that she should be in bed at this time of night, she said that she must sell her papers first. So we bought the remaining papers and told her to go home. When she gave us the papers we told her to keep them, she said 'please take the papers or I must go out again'. It was my first visit to the American hallelujah girls but not the last.

      The year 1900 was the year of the World's Fair in Paris and work on the docks was good. On Saturday June 30 I was working on the North German Lloyd Steamer Main in the coal bunker when the dumpers knocked on the chute to clear. When clear they shouted all out there is a fire on pier one. We took it as a joke, it was 4 P.M. and time to collect our pay, but we came out. On deck a sailor asked me to give him a hand with his hose saying that there was a fire on the pier. It was a leather hose copper riveted with handles attached. It was a beautiful day, and when we came to the paymasters window, we saw a cloud of smoke rolling toward us. We ran into the smoke when I noticed that the sailor must have left me because I could not pull it alone. Back I ran and when I was at the paymasters window again I still could see River Street, but was too late. I ran back to my ship. On the offshore side was the grain Elevator Themis, coal and cotton barges. There was about 50 feet space between barges, and I decided to jump and swim to the next pier. Before I jumped I saw flames crawling up on the Mast. In less than 15 minutes there were 4 piers and 4 ships in flames. Those thick coats of paint added fuel to the flames.

      On the dock were the Kaiser Wilhelm Der Grosse, Saale, Main, and Bremen. At noon the ship Aller left the pier for Italy with 50 tons of dynamite on board.

      Swimming to the next pier, I was able to climb a loaded barge and from there to the string piece of the pier, running down to the River, and back on the other side, trying to escape to the Fifth Street park. At the end of the string piece was a fence, to prevent Longshoremen from reaching the park.

      There were many ahead of me that had to jump, as there was no other way to escape. Non swimmers were fighting with swimmers and both were doomed with shore only 50 feet away. I ran back about 150 feet and made another jump, to swim to a nearby Boat Club. I reached bottom and tried to walk, but the mud was so soft that I sunk almost to my knees. I quickly turned on my back to free my feet and safely reached the float. The caretaker seeing my dirty feet tried to stop me, but exhausted and half crazy from excitement I pushed him aside, and two minutes later I was laying in the park to see others in the water struggling, crying, and drowning.

      It is hard to say how many could have been saved if the fence had not been there. It was claimed that tug boats ignored swimmers in order to get a reward for saving the big ocean liners. Much praise was given a little tug named Nettie L. Tige for saving life. Stories were told of people with head of of port hoe, and roasting in the cabins.

      The mass funeral on Wednesday July 4 marked on of the saddest days in the city of Hoboken. Officially 326 lives were lost. The Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse was able to sail a few days late, the Saale was sunk near Bedlows Island, Main and Bremen on the Weehawken flats.

      Mail boats were docked at the Cunard Line Piers, and other boats in Brooklyn. Longshoremen were ferried to and from the docks, on the companies Tug Boats.

      Work was good during the year, but immigration brought more help than was needed.

      It is winter again and shipping is slow, and so was work. I bought a good blanket and feather pillow, when I was on the Knickerbocker and loaned both to a fellow worker, who wanted to make a trip on a ship. I never saw blanket, pillow and borrower again, until I met him in a saloon on Third Street Hoboken on Christmas Eve 1900.

      I was not a whiskey drinker but was given a quart as Xmas present from the saloon that I frequented during the year; we kept on drinking, and then I remembered my blanket and pillow, and when I asked for it I got a sarcastic reply.

      The next I remember I was in a cell in the Hoboken Police Station. What happened? How did I get here? I asked the keeper and he said 'your are good for about 10 years'. Now I was really scared. They gave me a chance to wash my face, and then took me before Recorder Stanton. I have to repeat what the cop said because I did not remember anything.

      He said that he was called to a saloon to throw out a couple of trouble makers, which he did, but they kept on fighting on the sidewalk, and broke a window in Meyers Hotel. He asked the manager if he wanted to make any charges against them, he said no, this being Christmas day and the window was insured. The cop being sentimental too thought a bench in the lockup would be good and we would be safe. He also mentioned that the big fellow, pointing at me, had a broken whiskey bottle in his pocket. The Judge wanted to know if I was a whiskey drinker, to which I answered truthfully 'no', then how do I account for the broken bottle? I said it was an Xmas present. The Judge said "One dollar fine" which I was happy to say I had.

      This was the second Christmas in PARADISE, the first I was threatened with a broom handle, and the second I was charged $1 for the hospitality of the police station. MERRY CHRISTMAS! But oh, my head, it was much heavier than my body.

      Now I can claim the honor of being familiar with police stations of three countries. What will the future have in store for me? I still have a soft spot in my heart for Judge Stanton and his copy who provided me with rest on a hard bench but made of soft wood.

      Among the immigrants the so-called white collar class is the unfortunate. While his education is superior, the lack of the English language puts him on the same level as the common laborer.

      He still has his pride, he is willing to pull a hand truck on the dock, but would not mop the floor, or clean a cuspidor in a saloon. He rather eats free lunch than do undignified labor.

      Only about 10% of the longshoremen are skilled and for the other 90% work is only temporary. Men who are familiar with unloading ships often become expert petty thieves. When imported beer is unloaded, there are some barrels only half full, but they don't leak. The thirsty longshoreman removes one hoop, bores a hole in the barrel, fills his pint kettle, and when finished plugs the hole, replaces the hoop and you try and find the leak.

      A clever longshoreman can tell the contents of a crate by its marking. He never touches the side of marking but the bottom, and sometimes finds that the marking does not correspond with the contents. The marking indicates dry goods, but he finds that the crate has a double bottom, and contains jewelry as well. That compartment is cleaned out, boards replaced, and box shipped to destination. No complaints, the dry goods was there and illegal jewelry not declared. The cheating smuggler has been cheated.

      One time a crate was opened containing large alarm clocks, about 9 or 10 inches in diameter with a bell on top. It was not too big to be hidden with a rain coat, and taken home without being detected. He winds the clock but she does not tick, so he removes the back to find the cause, but what he found was that the large clock had a small movement and around it 12 ladies watches they used to wear on their waists. What a surprise! He knows a fellow worker who also stole one, and he had to have that too. He asked him if his clock was running, the answer was 'Yes', now he told him the one he took home did not run, and in trying to repair he broke it, and his wife made an awful fuss over such a trivial matter, and he was willing to give $5 for another that runs. Of course the clock is not worth $5 but peace with his wife is, he got the other clock and removed another 12 watches. It is almost impossible to estimate the value of smuggled goods that gets into a country.

      One time we unloaded about 1,000 Canary Birds from the Harz-Mountains of Germany. It was wonderful to hear those birds sing after being confined to the ship for about 12 days. They came in small wooden cages. To wrap one in a rain coat would smother the bird, so the inventive thief put a small hole in his derby had, for air for the bird. The canary could get his head through the small hole but not back. Unaware that the bird had his head through the hole of the hat, a foreman took him to the office and told him to look into a mirror. Bird was returned and thief fired.

      Ships stewards, like the white collar longshoremen, were in a class by themselves. Their pay was 15 Mark a month, out of which they had to pay for lost silver and broken dishes; they existed mostly on tips. All attempts to organize them failed, and they were often so poor that they used unfolded and unprinted bill of fare paper instead of a starched front, to cover their undershirts and had a celluloid collar around their necks; but they were the "HERREN" stewards, and too proud to associate with the common longshoremen.

      One time the coal gang went on strike against the abusive language of the foreman, and the HERREN stewards were ordered to load the ships bunkers. There they stood in the coal barge in their white jackets, working like insects in a pile of horse manure.

      It is cold again and the park benches are deserted, so for warmth and entertainment we again went to the Salvation Army. No movies in those days, and the only other warm place was the saloon. It was the same as before, collections were poor said the captain, and so was the saving of souls.

      One time we had a fireman from the American Line among us, he was very drunk but quit, and his pockets were filled with sale herrings. There is a white string in the Herring, and the Germans call it Die Heerings Seele (Herrings soul) and if you can throw it on the ceiling and make it stick then you have luck. John B. had a way of taking the Herring by the tail, give it a twist, and tear it in two, and eat it without bread, but never succeeded to make the soul stick to the ceiling.

      The woman captain told him to stop but John B. was too drunk, he did not say a word. The captain sent one of her girls for a cop to take him to jail. Our protest that the man did no harm and did not know what he was doing found no sympathy with the Captain. The next morning we went to the Recorders Court to see what would happen. The cop told that he was called to the Salvation Army to remove a drunk, and that he was quiet and followed (as) willingly as his condition permitted. The Judge asked the Captain, do you want to press charges? To which she answered 'I most certainly do'. The Judge then said 90 days in the Hudson County penitentiary.

      HALLELUJAH John B. is saved from another souse for 90 days. But was this a christian deed from a tambourine rattling soul-saving Hallelujah lass? But this was not the end, in her endeavor to save souls in prison, the Captain sent one of her girls to Jail every week and there, of course, she saw John B. John, who was an East Friesian fisherman and not overburdened with intelligence, thought she came to see him, and was flattered. He told her that he would like to see her again when released. John B. did meet her again, proposed and was accepted, and they were married by a Justice of the Peace. They had two rooms in a rear house in Garden Street. John found a job as night fireman in New York, and his wife, I was told, was visited by gentlemen friends to keep her from being lonesome. Hallelujah all's well that ends well.

      I had been skeptical about this noisy religious group since I met them in London. Another former fireman that was as smart as John B. Was advanced to Captain, and trained as a Speaker; he was as good as the itinerant peddler of Rattlesnake Oil, but not as effective. One day I asked him how they were able to give Thanksgiving and free Christmas dinners to the poor.

      Well first there were collections, then wholesale Grocers and Butchers were contacted for stale groceries, surplus from last year. Butchers for surplus Chicken and Turkeys. It was not all free, but cheaper for charity, you know. There was Santa Claus during Christmas seasons, and Santa was given 10% of his collections. It was impossible to say what the cost of a meal was, the best he could give me was that a dinner cost them between 15 and 30 cents and the collections between 80 cents and a dollar.

      The Salvation Army is less than a century old, and in wealth only second to the Catholic Church who has been active for 1,500 years. Simple Simon is willing to give his last cent for charity, but is not interested how it is spent.

      Charity is a substitute for injustice, it does not heal but prolongs the agony. One day I told some fellow workers about London and the poverty I had seen, but was interrupted by one who wanted to know if I had been to the Bowery, and if not to spend a few days there, and also visit Alolen Street. I had not heard of the Bowery, but had lots of time to go there. 3 cents for the Ferry to Barklay Street, to City Hall, to Park Row, and soon I was at Chatham Square, and Chinatown. At Chatham Square was a Basement Barber, with a sign at the sidewalk, it read: Shave 3 cent, with bayrum 5 cent, haircut 10 cent. It was the cheapest I had ever seen, and I had a haircut. The Bowery had many saloons, hock shops, and flophouses. The cheapest beds were 20 cents. Combination coffee 2 cent a cup. Regular dinner 20 cent and up.

      The flop houses were above stores, on the second floor was a big room with tables and chairs where the derelicts gathered. It was like a London lodging house, but you could do no cooking. On the floor above they had many beds partitioned into what they called rooms. They were about 6 feet high and gave room for a narrow bed with a chair. There must have been about 50 such rooms in that floor. A sign warned: no smoking, Beds 25 cent, and I had a sleepless night. Some drunks talked to themselves, others in their sleep, and some snored while others coughed as if they had T.B., and the air reminded you of a latrine.

      How can this be possible in the richest country in the world? What made them what they are? They could not all be lazy loafers. Here was work for the Salvation Army, but I did not see any. I was also told to go to Allen Street, so I went there. There could no sun be seen below the Elevated Railroad. Fat women sat on the stone steps and invited you in for a dollar or less.

      A corner saloon sold a schooner of beer for 4 cents, but I saw no free lunch there. A wide stair leading from the back room to the next floor. The part below the stair was partitioned and had a door. In the barroom were women from 16 to 60 and offered their charm for a price anybody could meet. If a couple came to an agreement, the woman went to the bartender, who opened that cubby hole for 10 cents, and the couple disappeared behind it.

      At that time New York had a Police Commissioner who was blind to vice and corruption, his name was Bill D----y.