As a reward for loyal and faithful service to our country, Congress rewarded the American people with the Volstead prohibition act. A terrible shock to a thirsty soul like mine, and my only consolation was that those befuddled heads at last sober-up and able of clear thinking.
You can lead a mule to water, but you cannot make him drink.
You can send a fool to Congress, but you cannot make him think.
That law proved to be disastrous. The American people refused to take to water, and for every brewery closed, a thousand were created in the basements of their homes. Hops, malt, and all the ingredients could be bought at the local store, with instructions how to make good home brew.
The only important part was the process of fermenting. If bottled too soon, the exploding bottles made more noise than an old time fourth of July celebration. Later we learned how to operate a till, and to make our own hooch, but that stuff was too raw for our better citizen, and they started to import a better quality than the one produced at home.
Uncle Sam denatured the onetime legal booze, and more citizens died or became blind, than those that died from the embalmed beef supplied to soldiers during the Spanish American War by a patriotic beef trust.
Alcohol had been a bone of contention long before the Volstead act. Among the most valiant fighters against alcohol, was Carrie Nation of Topeka, Kansas. She fearlessly attacked the alcohol devil with a tomahawk, to the joy or despair of a group whichever you belong.
Many attempts had been made to convince the two legged mule, that water was his best drink, from moderation to outright repeal. The state of Maine was bone dry, but for beer you had to visit the back room of a grocery store, and for stronger drinks you had to buy a coat.
When a Maine citizen said to you: Stranger, how much will you give me for my coat? and you were wise to the game, you would say 'a dollar', and he would hand you his coat. You remove the pint of whiskey in it and say that you had decided that you don't want his coat, and hand it back to him. There was no law in the state of Maine against the sale of a coat, but that pint of whiskey could be bought in N.Y. state for 50 cents, and the 25 cent bottle of beer for 10 cents.
The free and independent state of Massachusetts will allow you a drink on Sundays if you buy some food with it, a sandwich or hard boiled egg will do. For those who do not care for food they serve you with a cardboard sandwich, and charge you 10 cents, but for the cardboard sandwich you did not eat, they serve you another 5 cent beer.
The lawmakers know it, the police know it, and all is well. In the Empire State they passed a law to let the communities decide if they preferred to be wet or dry.
The parsons were preaching about the evils of alcohol, and how much could be saved by refraining from it. If only 10 cents were spent a day, it would be 70 cents a week, $3 per month, and $36 per year. Then he told them what they could have bought with all that money. The parsons figures could not be disproved, but on the other hand, the employer may think that he had overpaid his hired help, and gives them $1.65 instead of $1.75 he had been paying them for a nine hour day.
My loyal and godfearing townsmen believed in two spirits, the one that came from the preachers pulpit, and the other that was served over the bar by quarts or drinks.
I once worked at a tavern in the state of N>y> village, there I had a dry customer, who came regular every week for his pint of "likker". He would use the side entrance to the kitchen, and give me the signal. He could put his hand to his heart and swear that he had never been in a barroom. One day his church held a prayer meeting to expound the evils of alcohol. The parson would call on some members of his congregation to arise and tell their opinion about the evils of alcohol, and I attended one of their meetings. Among those present was my weekly customer. when the parson called on him, he arose to face the congregation and saw me sitting in the pew, he froze, he could not say a word, he held his hands in front of his face and sat down. There are only two places in a village for spiritual solace, the bar and the pulpit.
At another meeting that I attended, the parson introduced to us a former N.Y. assemblyman who had recently returned from Europe and lectured on what he had seen and learned.
Among other things, he spoke about England, and told his listener that the English workingman earns but $5 a week, to impress to his listeners that they earn twice as much. I did not know the present pay of a British workingman, but I do know that I was paid 8 shilling a week while tramping on Queen Victorias cat rug and footwarmer. Questions are seldom asked, because when you do have a question the parson asks you to come up to the speakers platform, and tell who you are before you can ask your question.
When I asked the parson chairman for question I did not realize then that I made a capital blunder. Among other things I had to confess that besides being a disciple of Lucifer, I am also the porter bartender and handyman at the local gin mill.
Actually I was in a worse fix than my dry customer. I did not squeal on him but exposed myself. My question had no connection with alcohol, but I only wanted him to tell his hearers what the English workingman could buy for their $5 a week that he awed his audience with. That I lived and worked in England, and if he wanted to tell a story, tell all or none.
Well, he "assumed" that his audience would realize that the English workingman could thrive on $5 as the American for his $10. With local option, my village, with the aid of prayers and the parson, (the town) went dry.
Majorities have the might, minorities are right.
The thirsty souls of the minority will have to travel to the neighboring town for spiritual consolation, and while there take a bottle home. If the visitor had a bigger load on than he could carry, the wets would call his home town to send horse and buggy for safe delivery.
Albany passed a law forbidding the sale of alcoholic drinks on Sundays. The barrooms were to be locked, blinds drawn, to protect thirsty souls from temptation, but the side doors were left open for you to go to the rear room for your drinks. Saloons closed and still there were many drunks. What's wrong? EUREKA it's the blinds. Another law was passed, the blinds will have to be removed to see what is going on in the barroom. Law is obeyed, blinds are removed, doors are locked, the place is as empty as a lawmakers skull, the only one in the place is the bartender, in plain sight, and busy filling trays with beer and booze to be carried to the back room, and the side door is still unlocked.
Did you ever stop to think, why you, a citizen of the world's greatest democracy, had to sneak like a thief in order to get the drink you desire? You were willing to violate an autocratic law but unwilling to protest it.
How did my former German countrymen and their press act during the years of war? The German press reported to its readers with jubilation of battles won on French soil, induced its readers to buy German war bonds, and sponsored collections and contributions for the Vaterland. By 1917 the ardor of the German press and its readers had cooled to the freezing point.
The German super patriot spent his cent for an American paper that he could not read and carried in his pocket, as a German paper would be a dead giveaway. The German press had to translate their news into English, and sent copies to Washington. New Yorks German grocers asked Washingtons permission to change sauerkraut into liberty cabbage, frankfurters became liberty bolognas, then we had Liberty Bonds, and we had liberty this and liberty that, but liberty.
While the German patriot ran for cover, the American patriot aided by his jingo press took over.
Samuel Harry Chevenson of Millville, N.J., a freshman at Rutgers College, New Brunswick, N.J., was stripped, covered with molasses and rolled in feathers Tuesday night by a student committee, while 400 college men looked on. Then he was paraded through the town street on a plank. When Prof. Barbour called on each student for a Liberty Loan speech, Chevenson refused. He was seized by the students as soon as he finished drilling with the Rutgers Cadet Corps, and held prisoner until evening when he was given a coating of molasses. As sign displayed at the head of the procession that carried him through the town read: "This is what we do to pro-Germans". He was released after the parade. He is a holder of a State Scholarship.
New York World April 25, 1918 Oyster Bay L.I. July 29 The life-size oil painting of the Kaiser, which was torn and dragged through the streets here has disappeared today. The painting was given to Colonel Roosevelt by the Kaiser himself when the former was traveling in Europe.
The picture precipitated a miniature riot here, a dozen or more vigilantes, representing the "best" citizen of the village, swooped down upon the home of Mrs. C.H. Pollitz in Lawrence Park and demanded that she turn the picture over to them.
The painting originally was brought here by the Colonel, who turned it over to the local library, and it ornamented one of the walls until the Lusitania was sunk. Then the trustees concluded that it should be placed in the cellar. Mrs. Pollits happened into the library a few days later and made an offer of five dollars for the picture, and the trustees willingly accepted.
New York Journal July 30, 1918 In a midwestern state (I do not recall the name) a German was accused of being pro German, taken by a mob preceded by an American flag and hung. Later it was proven that he bought Liberty Bonds. His name was Robert Prager.
Lynch murders were common, annual lynch murders at the turn of the century were between 300 and 350. Causes may have been disregard of established laws, or bestial blood lust.
After the demise of the Liberty Bonds, banks and business had a plentiful harvest. The interest law of the state of New Jersey was six percent. To circumvent that law they invented the bonus system. To borrow from banks you had to pay the legal rate of 6% plus 10% bonus. To borrow $1,000 you received $840 and your signature acknowledged for $1,000.
A friend of mine held a few shares of a Hudson Co. bank. When his $100 share had a value of $420 the bank informed him to bring his $420 shares and have them changed into four $105 shares and was given a few extra as a bonus. During the national bank crash I am sorry to say he received $8 for that on time $105 share.
Another friend had the wisdom to invest $300 in Consolidated gas and for this they send him a quarterly check for $165 and is still collecting.
Now, brother, re-read what the American General William Dent Grant said about the causes of war.
If there was a national tax on political ignorance, and the citizen able to pay, this country of ours would be a Schlaraffenland. The robber knights of old would turn in their grave with envy, if they would know with what ease the modern sucker can be relieved of his belongings, and if the mule was as wise as the driver he would have the driver in harness, and himself on the seat on the wagon. If there is something above your eyebrows brother, then make use of it.
The soldiers and mechanics of our village, after serving their country, had returned, and renewed their struggle for existence. Skilled seasonal workers such as carpenters, masons, and painters were idle half the year. While they had better wages while working, forced idleness kept him on the same wage level as the day laborer. In the spring he starts to pay back debts, his wife begins to put up preserves, beginning with strawberry's, work the small garden, have a winters supply of apples, potatoes, cabbage, and preserved eggs, a pail of lard and flour, and if she cannot buy a pound of meat, the old man is fed with a pancake or apple fritters, and the hope that next year may be better.
My employer, a son of the village, once counted 43 carpenters in the village; among them the two undertakers in the village who worked at the trade at times, and by the time he has paid his last debt, he begins to make new ones.
But that does not prevent a would be employer to howl about the outrageous wages demanded by skilled workers.
At one time my local union asked the bosses for a wage increase to 75 cents per hour, but the bosses were not willing to pay. When the committee reported the bosses refusal, I made a motion that we inform the public that they can hire a carpenter for 75 cents per hour, and on constructions where a foreman is required, he is to be paid $1 per hour. My suggestion found no ear, but they shouted at me, we have to protect the bosses. Did I join and pay dues to protect the bosses? Well I am willing to work for the demand made by my union, boss or no boss. My fellow union men knew as much about union principles as they do about politics and that is nothing.
Later I learned that my proposal would be against their clan.
A union carpenter is pledged not to discuss union procedures in public, but his pledge and that of a politician have no meaning, and the bosses learned that a foreign bolshewicki was trying to put a crazy notion into the loyal heads of their workers. Nothing happened, the American worker is easy to forgive and forget but the bosses don't.
When work was good Steiner had a job, when work was slack he tried another employer, to learn that he does not need help but to come again.
Twelve years passed since I landed in that village; I loved the place and I loved the people, but could make no headway, a change has to be made, and a city would offer more opportunities for work. I found a job at the construction of a power house and coaling station on New York's East River.
Here I ran into something that had me puzzled for a long time. In all the places I had worked before, I could not work fast enough, and here I could not work slow enough. The order was: for God's sake work slow, and look out for the super. For a mechanic that had /been/ hustled all his life, this slow work was hard to endure. You are given a job to do, when finished you report to your foreman to be told that he has no other work, and to go home if you have not sense enough to stretch your work.
The super, I must confess, was a holy terror, he was everywhere, and you pretended to be busy to make an article that you had already made. Wages were $1.50 per hour, double time for overtime. Came labor day, labors most holy, and an order to work on that day with the consent of the district council.
Nothing shocked my faith in unions more than this order. Have union principles no meaning to those we elected to represent us? This was not war or emergency work, but slowed deliberate. Some chair warming union officials no doubt had their palms greased for this betrayal. All that I was able to learn about this deliberate slow work was that high costs of construction enjoys a high tax exemption.
An incredible accident happened on that job. Two laborers were operating the air-pump for the diver in the East River. The non whistle made them run from the pump to their lunch pail, causing the divers death. A collection of $1,800 for his widow and children was no compensation for a lost life, caused by incredible human stupidity.
From March 1926 until October I was employed on that job. A friend of mine who lived on the banks of the Hackensack River offered to sell me a small piece of land, and advance me the money to build. I received the building permit on Nov. 11, 1926, and now I had to prove what I had learned.
In addition to my Sears Roebuck books, I took a correspondence course on plan reading from the Chicago Technical College, and was awarded with a percentage of 97.2. Another course of contracting and estimating proved me a flop.
I was my own mason, carpenter, and painter, and my plumber comrade from Monroe showed me over the weekend how to install the hot and cold water pipes on the building. The only work not done by me was the electrical. During the construction of the building we had an apartment in Secaucus, N.J. and by the end of April we moved to our new and unfinished home in the borough of East Rutherford, N.J.
Between working for contractors, I found odd jobs of repairing or building garages.
Irregular work was never profitable, regardless of pay, and I decided to seek permanent employment. I was offered a job in an ice cream factory at $6 a day, and seven days a week. My work was repairing ice cream cabinets, and doing odd jobs. The work was from 1 P.M. to midnight. After 6 P.M. I was to attend to the ice machines, and take temperatures in the various rooms. In the cream room I tried to sample the cream, but some being western (cream) stunk to high heaven, but the skill of our chemist could make it good again. At times we received tubs of stale sweet butter, which was mixed with milk, and the machines did the rest. The state of New York did not allow western cream, and I eat the ice cream made in N.Y.
Ice cream and bolognas are only good for you if you don't know what is in it.
After 3 years of employment the plant was closed, equipment sent to Long Island and employees discharged.
The engineer who owned a piece of land in Rosendale, N.Y. decided to build a home. We both started to work on Sept. 9, and by Dec. 12 he was able to move in.
In the 1928 presidential campaign we were promised a chicken in the pot and an extra car in the garage (In 1904 it was only a full dinner pail.) if we again vote republican. The great engineer went to Washington, and his Potemkin villages were re-named Hoovervillles. While waiting for that chicken in the pot, I was lucky obtaining a job as millwright, remodeling a building for the manufacture of marshmallows. It was the engineers first job since college, and my first too as millwright. Things did not go any too well, and we relied on the engineer, and often the engineer relied on our skill, and when the engine started we had to sweep the marshmallow from the floor. When I told the forelady that this was not sanitary if used again, she replied 'think nothing of it', 'I was 14 years a forelady in a leading candy factory, and we scraped the chocolate from the floor, and you would have never known it when it was sold in a fancy box over the counter'.
There was a time clock, and a notice which read: anyone late five minutes will be docked 15 minutes, those late 15 minutes will be docked half hour.
One day when the owner was present, we were working on a job that could have been finished within half hour after quitting time. It so happened that when the gong sounded, every one was in haste to depart. When the boss complained to me about their hasty departure I asked him to read the notice on his time clock and he will know the reason. Next day the clerk asked me to come to his office before quitting, and he handed me my pay up to date. When I asked an explanation he said the boss left the orders before he went back to Chicago. Employers can be very touchy when reminded of their faults.
One day I was introduced to an insurance agent who happened to be a socialist. He said that he was planning to organize a branch if he can. He later informed me that an organization meeting will be held at a home in Uhland St. East Rutherford on Jan. 28, 1932 and to be present. The meeting was addressed by the state secretary of the party. It was decided to call another meeting for Feb. 8 at the same address, and to keep the charter open to permit those who were detained to join. The meeting was attended by seven comrades and Steiner was elected recording and corresponding secretary. The membership increased, and we had among us a Reverend, an artist, a bank clerk, and a few workers and businessmen.
The corresponding secretary had to get the names and addresses of the comrades. The bank clerk was willing to join, but no willing to give me his name. He said that if it was known that he joined the party he would lose his position. Well, how am I to notify you if I do not know your name? I will give you my address and my mothers maiden name which was Gillman. I do not ever want to know your name, to me you will be and remain comrade Gillman.
Why was it necessary for an intelligent native son of Columbia to conceal his name if he wants to join the party of his choice? An immigrant wants to know.
When comrade Gillman learned that he could trust his secretary, he said he had been a regular contributor to the parties daily The New York Call, a victim of post war hysteria, lost the second class mailing privilege, and now rests with other progressive papers in the un-consecrated literary Potter's Field. REQUIESCAT EN PACE. It was never a healthy child, forever in need of support, and I have told about it's birth.
Carlstadt Turnhall became the headquarters of the Carlstadt-East Rutherford branch Socialist Party. At the May meeting in 1933 it was decided to nominate candidates for the coming November election, and Steiner was nominated for the office of Mayor in the borough of East Rutherford.
To my protest that I am practically unknown, and that a native citizen should be nominated in order to get good voting results, I was told that I was the only logical candidate, that I could not suffer loss of job because I was unemployed, and noone want's the nomination for fear of reprisal.
What a lot of things an immigrant can learn in the land of the free, that a native son is not aware of.
Our party's program for the year 1933 was: 1. Revaluation of all property, 2. Reclamation of meadow lands for unpaid taxes, 3. Municipal ownership of waterworks and coal yards, as the schools streets and parks are now owned by the borough for the benefit of all, 4. Free legal and medical advice to the needy, 5. Maintenance of municipal medical dispensary and dental clinic, 6. Free milk and lunches for needy school children, 7. No police interference in labor disputes, 8. The free use of public schools, and other public buildings for public meetings, 9. The use of the Stirling tire property for a municipal coal yard, 10. Elimination of waste in municipal management to prevent further cutting of low wages for employees.
The election results were:
1st district (my own where I was watcher) 16;
second 5, third 5, fourth 2, fifth 4, sixth 1, total 33.
Our program found no favor, the American voter was still waiting for that chicken in the pot and the extra car promised him, as I had waited for the full dinner pail promised in 1904.
A Democratic president was elected, and he created the N.R.A. National Recovery Act. The national slogan was N.R.A. we do our part.
Working time was to be reduced, and wages increased. A local industrial plant that paid it's workers 40 cents per hour and worked them 60 hours per week for $24 responded to the N.R.A. by establishing the 40 hour week and paying their workers $16 per week, and their product was labeled: N.R.A. We do our part.
Things did not improve, some went into business by standing on street corners selling apples to other unemployed, others discussed national prosperity, rolled a Bull Durham cigarette, and swallowed the smoke to make the stomach think that he gets something warm. Our political masterminds were at a loss to find employment for the many, but found a solution by making them cutting firewood, and dulled the saws to make the work last longer.
N.R.A. was replaced by W.P.A. (Works Progress Administration) and the former socialist candidate for mayor joined the group of not so proud Americans to be assigned for work. His first job was at the deceased elm project.
A bus took the men from our territory to New Milford, and from there we were taken by truck to the Jersey Hills, in search for deceased elm trees that had been marked by a tag nailed to the trees. The climb on those hills was tedious to most of the men. Many unused to climbing were tired before we started to work.
The trees, some of them had a diameter of two feet, were cut with a two man saw, about 18 inches above the ground, cut into pieces and carried to a clearing to be burned. The bark of the stump was loosened, some green poison placed between bark and stump and nailed with galvanized roofing nail.
The group of workers consisted not only of common laborers, but former clerks, salesmen with nothing to sell, agents and others of the white collar fraternity, and among them a former republican post master. He knew all the principle cities of the various states, but did not know where the Hoover prosperity was, and when it will come from around the corner, and we kept on hoping and waiting. The socialists on the other hand had their troubles too.
Our reverend was hit on the most vital spot, his stomach. His congregation neglected to pay him his salary, and he had to borrow from his bishop. He later resigned with the explanation that in his opinion Technocracy will cure the ills of the world.
There was not only trouble in the state organization, but in the national as well. The state committee wanted to raise $10,000 for our publication, the New View, from members that could barely pay their dues to the party. The total amount collected was $1,038, to which our branch contributed $9.50. At the state convention in Trenton in 1934 the state secretary reported a dues paying membership of 1,165 and it dropped to 485 in 1935 according to the New Leader. The state organization was domineered by the branches of Camden and Essex Counties, a militant group forced it's will on the membership to send their delegates to the Cleveland convention.
Our moderate branch, who knew our socialism, and our Caspar Milktoast citizen opposed the militant, and remained with the old guard, and their candidates for the convention, and the votes for our delegates were promptly thrown out.
The militant controlled the convention, Norman Thomas was elected candidate for president, and our party hopelessly split. From time immemorial the workers have prayed for a Moses, and have been led by renegades, fools, and crooks.
I had a variety of jobs on the W.P.A. and a variety of fellow workers. At one time I was given a 16 pound sledge hammer to crack rocks under the George Washington Bridge, another time we cut a road through a hill in Lodi with 22 inches frost in the ground, bossed by a fat man who learned his English in Italy. We re-layed flagstones on sidewalks, and re-set curb stones. Our former white collar citizens were tired from this hard and unusual work, and had been denounced as loafers and shovel-leaners.
How many of them have looked with disdain on the common laborer and his work, to find themselves degraded by their political ignorance. I bombarded them with questions: How do you explain this misery, when we have an abundance of everything? How can you be a Republican when millionaires are of the same party? Why do you, a native son of Columbia, permit the exploitation of our natural wealth by a selected few for their own gain? Why do you say that you are willing to go to war, if you have nothing to defend buy your misery?
You must be a bolshewicki, or socialist, to ask such questions. I cannot answer them because I never bothered with politics, believing that all politics is crooked.
Unless your head is filled with cigarette smoke, now is the time, brother, to ponder my questions, and look down upon yourself to learn why you are what you are.
Prosperity was still in hiding, and the socialist candidate for Mayor was ordered with his tools to report to the W.P.A. in Paterson to build field offices, tool chests, and outhouses.
It was in the yards of the Lodi Piece Dye Works in Paterson where I demonstrated my skill. Many of the outhouses we built were put on display over manholes in the middle of the street to serve our fellow workers for temporary rest, meditation, and above all to give them the desired opportunity to sh-t on the job.
Two carpenters had to build two of those most necessary shelters in one day. Two carpenters had to build two tool chests in a day. Three carpenters had to build a field office, 8 feet by 16 feet in a day. They had to hustle to finish one in a day. There was no loafing or shovel leaning on jobs where I was employed.
Many of these field offices, that were built in sections, were stored on a vacant lot across the street and later burned. Later we built shelves in the factory for dry goods, and a thousand crates to pack and ship them to Arab countries.
In the factory we found several barrels filled with army shoes of large sizes. We were permitted to take some if they fitted us, but few of us had feet big enough to fill them. Upon inquiry as to origin we were told that they were leftovers from the World War. When the war was over they forgot to cancel the order, and these are surplus shoes.
One Monday morning when we came to work, we learned the sad news about Pearl Harbor, and Steiner was transferred from the W.P.A. to the Treasury Department, and employed as a warehouse carpenter at the royal sum of 74 cents an hour, and employed in the 130 block on Broadway, New York.
Our work was to repair office and typewriter desks, that had been broken or mutilated by burning cigarette butts; later we built shelves for things that the government claimed to be essential, from typewriters to automobile tires. The government demanded that extra tires be turned in. After being stored several months, the junky's loaded their trucks so high with them that they could not pass the gate. Typewriters we had stored by the hundreds, and with other items were marked "For foreign relief".
In July 1943 we were breaking up empty crates, and pulling nails from the boards. July fourth was on Sunday and celebrated on Monday.
On the day that I became a citizen of the U.S., I pledged to obey its laws and observe it's holidays. When I returned to work on Tuesday, I was called into the supers office, and asked if I had been ill. I replied that I had observed the national legal holiday. I was informed that the gang had been working pulling nails. Several weeks after, I received official notice that being absent without official leave I will be deprived of a days work. Had I lied, I would have been paid for that day. Now there were two days lost from this nail pulling job, and my pledge to observe our national holidays got a jolt. I have preserved this notice as a remembrance of official wisdom.
We have been moved to Broadway near 230 Street, and my travel time to and from work was close to 4 hours, and travel expenses too high. I wanted a transfer. At the war labor board hearing, at 500 Fifth Ave., I was transferred to the war labor board in Hoboken, N.J. In Hoboken I was told to come back some other time. I could not get private employment without official release, or be out 60 days. I was working on my house while waiting for re-assignment which did not come.
A nearby factory hired me as fireman and sweeper at $1 per hour. An increase of 26 cents and no transportation expenses. AS an employer Uncle Sam is very economical.
Prosperity did come back to some engaged in war work, among them my employer. Within two years he bought the factory, installed oil heat, and told his former fireman that from now on the apprentice will do the sweeping, and for me to apply for unemployment compensation. At the unemployment office I was told that being 71 years old I can also collect social in-security benefit.
There was no deduction for social security on W.P.A. The treasury department had a pension system after five years service, and the contract for the former W.P.A. workers reads: for the duration of the war, and six month thereafter.
When the first social in-security check arrived, it was for the sum of $21.32 per month with the stipulation that I must no earn more than $14.99 additional to the pension; in short I have to exist on $1.17 a day of forfeit the pension.
About a half century ago, a Chicago police chief wanted to know on how little a person can exist, and he experimented on his cops, not on himself; his finding was 38 cents a day.
About the same time a report by Passaic, N.J. health officials disclosed that the city fed it's patients at the municipal tuberculosis and isolation hospital with the best of meats and groceries etc. for an average of 34 cents a day.
Our wise congressmen must have been aware of the Passaic report when they established the minimum fee to maintain their old and tired constituent two legged mules.
Too old to find gainful employment, I did odd jobs, built garages and homes in Peekskill, N.Y., Carlstadt, and East Rutherford, N.J. and quit work at 80.
A big oil company needed a special watchman for 3 days a year, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year, to allow their employees to spend the holidays with their families. The time was from 6:30 A.M. to 10 P.M., the pay was $1.75 per hour. My pay for 15 1/2 hours would be $27.12. I explained to the manager that I am not allowed by my congressmen to earn more than $14.99 a month, or it will be deducted from my pension. After he expressed his opinion about the wisdom of our law makers, he told me to come and watch, and he will see to it that I will be paid without loss to me.
He kept his word, and how he did it I let you guess. I had this job for six years, and it ended with the transfer of the manager, and now I, after more than sixty years of serving my country, I will relate what I learned of her history, and of the dreams, hopes, and visions I had.