To tell about the Londoner I must not forget the deeds and misdeeds of my fellow countrymen, who had good reason for not going back to their native country. When I heard them tell why they were in England I began to realize that there were two kinds of human beasts, the educated and the uneducated, and the educated were more cunning than the Simple Simons.
There was a Baron whose family would send him a sum of money each month, then he would appear in a tuxedo suit, and indulge in drinking. One time he bought penny rolls of tobacco, enough to fill his high hat, then proceeded to drop them on the sidewalk, as though he were feeding pigeons. Soon some bums were fighting over the tobacco to his amusement and then they were arrested. One time his family sent an investigator to London to learn about his behavior and the monthly subsidy was stopped.
He told us this story: One time he was tramping in Scotland and begged at a fancy residence. There he learned that a German governess was employed at a nearby residence. He went to see her and she gave him two shilling. The next day he went there again, she told him that she was a poor girl and had given him two shilling only the day before. He told her that he was a Baron and temporarily on the bum, she laughed at him and his boastings, but he was able to prove his title and proposed to her. To become a baroness was something a governess could never dream of, and so she accepted him. She quit her position, collected her savings from the Bank and off they went to London. When the money was gone he sent her to a fashionable section of London to sell her charms for a pound sterling. He was the most contemptible pimp I had ever met.
There is a saying in Germany that Arbeit adelt (work makes you a knight) but those titled bums would rather blow their brains out than spend a day at useful work.
Another German who was known among us as the the Student. He was the stepson of the Mayor and owner of a brewery in a Bavarian historic town. He had mastered five languages, and was a teacher in a fashionable private institute. One day he took his students on a trip into the country. the students returned safe and sober but the teacher was found the next morning dirty and in a ditch.
England and America are two countries where well-to-do fathers unload their black sheep. His two vices were ale and horses.
I was working in a skin dressing shop when I met him. He had no trousers and used a sawdust bag with the bottom cut out as pants; this he wore when going for his pint of ale to a nearby saloon.
One time when he still had his pants, he sent a letter to the London Rothschilds, telling that he had lost his ship ticket to America, and was now stranded. A few days later he went to that address to inquire if his letter was received. Of course he never saw the Rothschilds but their secretary. Educated and a slippery talker, he was told to come back in a few days to get his ticket. He got his ticket and proceeded to a public house (saloon) to sell the ticket. A man was interested in buying it. After the buyer thought it was good he put it in his pocket, and when the Student demanded payment he learned that the buyer was sent to follow him and the ticket was to be used and not sold.
At another time he tried to learn if there are German chefs employed at some hotels, to them he went and said that he had a small chicken farm in the suburb, and if he could sell them some of his eggs. When he received an order he went to the egg store and bought the amount needed and delivered same. Then he went to another egg store and bought guaranteed bad eggs, went to the first store and accused the owner of selling him bad eggs, for the price of good ones, and asked the return of his money; when refused a Bobby (policeman) was called. In order to prove that eggs were bad one had to be cracked. Proof was established, and owner had to make good. One could write a book about the many tricks those rascals employed to exist without working. There was a large lodging house in the white chapel district, where many Germans met, known as the Wildermut house. At the Wildermut house there lived a Jew from Frankfurt, known to us as the Cigarren Reisende (cigar Drummer).
He would share his last slice of bread with you, and would ask you for some if he had none. There was another Jew residing there we called the shrimp, who kept much to himself, paid for his bed but never seemed to eat. We invited him when we had done some cooking, and he never refused. One day he was seen in a better restaurant having a meal, and the story was told at the lodging house but not believed. He was watched to learn the truth, and was seen there again. It was planned to punish him, and the cigar drummer promised to be judge and jury.
We Germans slept in a large room with about a dozen beds. The Drummer arose early, while Shrimp preferred to sleep longer. He came to the bedroom and asked Shrimp if he will have breakfast with him; soon there was a big noise, Shrimp lamented that his pants had been stolen during the night, and he could not come down for breakfast. The manager regretted the loss and said that he could do nothing for him, neither could we. The managers wife induced her mate to give him a pair of his old. The manager being tall and heavy, the trousers were much too big. The only way out was to go to a second hand clothing store and trade them for a smaller pair. By that time there was no more breakfast for Shrimp.
What had happened was that the Drummer had stolen the pants, sold them, and with the money bought groceries for breakfast to which Shrimp had been invited. When Shrimp was no longer invited to share a meal, he departed from the Wildermut house, but never learned the truth about his pants.
There was not much antagonism against us poor Germans until Kaiser Wilhelm committed his imperial blunder.
Diamonds were discovered in South Africa, and John Bull was never slow when there is something to grab, sent Dr. Jameson with 500 British soldiers to Transval for their share. The Boers did not like the intrusion and chased Dr. Jameson and his boys out again.
The Kaiser learned about the rebuff, sent a letter of congratulation to Ohm Kruger, the President of the Transvaal Republic, and thereby poking fun at his old Grandmother (Queen Victoria) while she was sitting at Windsor Castle twirling her thumbs.
About this time the patriotic Englishman used to say: We British do not look for fight, but b'golly if we do we have the men, we have the ships, and we have the money too.
In 1917 they changed the last line to 'We take the Yanks, we take their ships and take their money too.' Well here we were, the patriotic Englishman could not fight the Kaiser but he could fight his ragged subjects guilty or not.
One time while I was at a place called the Victoria Home, an Englishman loudly cursing the bloody blooming Germans challenged me to a fight. I am like the English, I do not look for a fight and do not run from one, but this time I wished that I had.
In Germany they fight like the American wrestlers, if I have got you down it is just too bad for you. But in London they had other rules. I had no trunk hose to fight in, and my pants were much too large, they were held up by a string instead of a belt, but I removed my coat as my opponent did. He was like a monkey, when I thought I hit, he was not there anymore, and when I had him down, they pulled me away from him, and it ended very suddenly. He grabbed me by the pants, broke the string and they dropped to the floor.
I ended up with a stub nose and the most beautiful shiners, which began to swell and impair my vision. Someone handed me my coat and I groped my way out to the street. A German who was neutral expressed his sympathy and I sent him back for my cap and string. To their honor I must say the fight was fair and to hell with the Kaiser. I was never without black eyes for about 3 months.
I met a fellow German who was working as a skin dresser, he told me where there was an opening, and to apply for the job; and I was hired. It was a tannery.
The skins from the warehouses were wetted with salt water, and then piled leather to leather to soften, then they are given to the fleshers. The fleshers scraped the hides clean of fat and other matter and put in a drying room. The fleshers scraper is like a carpenters draw knife. From the drying room the hides were greased and then folded leather to leather, and put into a large barrel. The barrels are buried in sawdust to about 6 inches from the top. The barrels are tipped back and bottom is an incline to allow the furs to be turned. On the top hoop was fastened a heavy burlap. The worker is dressed with a shirt only. He is naked from the waist down. The burlap is tied loose around his waist, and he begins to trample on the furs with all his might, and turns then with the heel of his foot, until they begin to soften from the warmth of the workers body. After a few hours depending on the fur the foreman takes a sample, re-creases some spots and back to the barrel. If the skins have been softened they are taken out of the barrel to be covered with sawdust on both sides and back to the barrel to be tramped again. The sawdust will be changed until all grease is removed from the furs, which is then fastened to a hook and beaten with a stick and combed. When finished even long-haired furs are shiny and stand up straight. Once in the barrel the worker remains in all day, a boy takes your order for food and delivers same to you, and you eat while stamping on the fur. The first two days I was too tired to get out and had to be helped. Nothing was said when we were 10 minutes late, and nothing paid when we worked an hour longer. Below the firms name they had the title Furriers to the Queen. Coming from work we had a pack of barking dogs behind us, they smelled the animals we had been tanning.
I was paid 8 shilling for a weeks labor, of which a half crown 2 1/2 shilling I paid for a small bedroom.
On two occasions I had the honor of trampling on Her Majesty's property. One was a Siberian Silver Fox she had as a foot warmer which was being cleaned, and the other time it was a rug made from cat skins, and had the British emblem. It was so big that we had to cut it into 4 pieces to be able to handle it.
Our foreman was a good fellow and German. On Sundays he took us for a walk, we went to Hyde Park, Victoria Park, and to London Tower, showed us the crown jewels, and the place where Mary Queen of Scots lost her head. We also went to a place called Dirty Dick.
The story of Dirty Dick was about a rich bachelor, who was soon to be married. His bride died on the eve of the wedding day. In his grief he locked himself in his house never to leave again until his death about 30 years later. He would leave orders at his door as to his needs or wants, and things would be left there for him.
After his death they found the place something like the Collier Brothers mansion in New York. They found carcasses of mice, rats, and cats, some with skins and others just skeletons. The deep cellar is now a public house, and the walls are decorated with the skeletons of rodents.
Another attraction was that you could buy a glass of beer for three farthings (the cheapest in London). Every time you paid with a penny you were given a new farthing in change.
My foreman also induced me to start a savings account, from my eight shilling wages a week. At one time I had 15 shilling in the London Penny Bank. It was the only money I was ever able to save. That man should have been made secretary of a federal treasury.
There were two German weekly papers published in London, but I bought the Salvation Army's War Cry to improve my English, and was glad to learn how many unfortunate had been sheltered by them.
Their street meetings were a novelty to me. Planting themselves in the middle of the street, regardless of traffic, they started with their brass band to get the attention of the people. The bass drum was placed in the center of the circle, preaching started, and the audience was asked to throw their coins on the base drum.
After a while the preacher would count the money, an would say: for instance, 'we now have 3 shilling and two pence, and when we have 4 shilling we will quit'. More preaching and more coins, again the counting and he would say: 'we now have 5 shilling and one penny and when we have six shilling we will quit, and so it went on until listeners stopped giving, and the soul savers departed in haste to try another place.
My foreman who had lived in London for 20 years did not have much use for them, and the way they raised money. He told us that a few years before the General's widow died at her residence on Queen Victoria Street, and exclusive section of London. The line of mourners was long, and considerable shortened after they asked two shilling to see the corpse.
One day I was asked for a penny for nights lodging, and I referred the man to the Salvation Army for free lodging. He said that is where he intended to go but it was not for free. I knew where the Salvation Army building was, but was never in there. Having been fooled so often I was skeptical about the charge for lodging. I was then living in a small hall room at half crown a week. I told the man that I was to pay for the lodging if there was a charge, and I would do all the talking. He agreed and we both went to the building. It was a large two story building with an enormous attic which I was to see later. On the first floor was a counter that appeared to be about 50 feet long. In back of the counter were 4 large copper boilers for tea an coffee. I asked the counter man if we could sleep here, and he said 'yes' and handing me two brass checks said 'that will be 4 pence'.
I told him that we had no money and thought that lodging was free. He then said my advice to you is to go out and ask some kind hearted people for money and then come back.
Now that I was out two pence, I gave him the money and treated him to some plum pudding, my favorite English dish. Back we went for our checks, and the man asked if we would have coffee or tea at half penny a cup. We said that we liked to but had no more money. The counterman told us to try our luck again but we preferred not to.
At about 8 P.M. the selling of food was stopped, and those without brass checks were asked to depart and that the house was being closed. I had learned the value of a brass check before in Bremerhaven. After the non-paying guests had left, we were ordered to the meeting hall on the next floor and had to listen for about an hour to free singing and praying, before we went (up) another flight to this enormous attic with the steep roof, illuminated by about 12 gas lights. On the floor were rows of frames about 8 inches high, 30 inches wide and about 6 foot long and the headboard at an angle of 45 degrees. In each frame on the floor was a seaweed mattress, such as used by the steamship companies for steerage passengers; the cover was made of black plastic like material, and like sheet as cover. There must have been about 200 or more of those so-called beds.
Seeing some of the men rushing to be under a gas light, I asked my protege for the reason. He said you will understand that most of us are lousy, and they want to kill as many as they can before the lights are turned out.
What was I doing in this place? I who had been lousy so often should have known better. My curiosity to see what the Salvation Army had to offer made me careless. I wanted to get out and quick. I pounded on the door for some time before it was opened, and I was told never to show my face in this building again. They may have sheltered the thousands they claim, but forgot to mention the money collected from them, and other thousands turned out because they did not have two pence to sleep on the floor. Was this charity? When for another two pence two men could sleep in a real bed with blankets to cover them. There was no need to tell me never to come back, and I never did.
They had a place called Industrial Home, the terminal of collections made by the Salvation Army. There the destitute have to work of sorting things from brass, copper, zinc, clothing and many things collected by them. All those employed worked for food and shelter only, to keep from freezing and starving during the cold winter. One German who spent the winter in this place had worn the seat of his pants, and asked for another pair; he was told that his were good enough during his stay, but he wanted to get out and refused to work unless he was given another pair. After a long argument he was taken to a loft, and there was more clothing than many of stores had to sell. From diaper to tuxedo and ball dress, but the poor bum who had worked there all winter had to fight to have his torn pants replaced.
The Salvation Army has one thing in common with the christian Germans, they both preach Christianity but do not practice it. I have heard some good things said about them, and I wish I could say something good about them too. The next time I met the Salvation Army again was in America about 5 years later.
The only way for a German tramp to keep alive is to beg or steal. The British are more inventive. An artist with his pocket full of colored crayon paints a beautiful scene on a flagstone on the sidewalk in a few minutes, and his hat on the sidewalk is to receive your Penny, another walks the center of the street singing, picks the coin thrown at him from the street with a nod, others hire a player piano or harmonica, and the charitable coin comes from a poor and goes to a poor.
God must love the poor very much, because he made so many of them said Abraham Lincoln, and if you knew them as good as I do you will love them too.
Now that I have a job, I can go to a public house and spend my two pence for a pot of ale or beer. I had been warned that women in England enjoy great freedom, and not to enter into a conversation with tipsy ladies. I heeded the warning and my ignorance of the language prevented me too, even if I had wanted to. I was rather shy with the ladies and all went well except one time.
I noticed that a woman appeared to be interested in me. She started a conversation, but I could not understand. She was tipsy and became amorous, I finished my beer and was ready to leave, when she ordered another beer for me. I politely refused and tried to explain that I have had enough, but to reason with a drunk is futile, and her smiles had turned to fury. I cannot repeat what she said, but it was something like this: 'Why you bloody blooming German, I am not good enough for you to drink with, and then she added another shiner to my collection in the year of our Lord 1895.
One evening a woman offered me a good time for a shilling, when I said that I had no shilling she asked how much I had, and I said a six pence, 'very well' she said, 'come along'.
I had mentioned that London is an ocean of two story houses. Between the streets is an alley about 8 feet wide, the rear of the yards have a brick wall with an opening of about 3 feet by 5 feet for removal of ashes and garbage. This opening has a metal door opening to the alley, into one of these alleys we went. She opened one door to form a right angle to the wall, said give me the six pence, leaned against the wall and lifter her skirt. I declined the invitation but wanted to know where my six pence went. It was a public house.
And the christian British send missionaries to far off lands and ignore the moral decay at home.
One time I saw two Amazons having a fist fight on the street. As the womans skirts reached to the ground in those days, and fastened with hook and eye, one stepped on the others skirt, hook and eye parted and skirt dropped to the ground, and there stood the daughter of Eve without the fig leaf, all she had on was a corset, waist and shoes to the amusement of a group of men, and the fight only stopped when bobby (policeman) came.
Late one evening while waiting for an omnibus, I saw two children sitting on stone steps of a house sleeping, a boy of about 10 years had his head resting on the shoulder of a girl about 12. Along came a bobby, he woke them and said 'Why don't you go home?'; said the girl 'We have no home mister.', 'Where is your father ?', 'We don't know mister.', 'and your mother?', 'Mother is dead mister.'. How would you have solved this dilemma? Bobby was puzzled too, but after pondering the problem he said to them: 'You cannot stay here, move on.'. Move on, where too? I too was told to move on after my soles and shins were sore from the night stick. Look to the ass for wisdom.
A drunken sailor was sleeping on the stone steps of a warehouse, while I was waiting across the street for a friend from a ship. Bobby came along and gave him a slight push with his stick, to wake him and went on. Coming back he shook him by the shoulder and went on again. Returning he found the man still sound asleep and went through his pockets and left him there.
A German had a small public house on a side street we sometime frequented. A lady was playing the piano in the back room for the guests. The proprietor told us that she had been a victim of Jack the Ripper. She herself never mentioned it, but when she had one drink too many, she loosened the high collar of her shirt waist and showed us the ugly scar across her throat.
Five years after I left London, Jack London the author visited the city, and in his book "The People of the Abyss" he described in detail what I had seen during the 12 months that I had been there.
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