The Daily Worker Newspaper, March 5, 1927, Page 7

Slaves of the Kitchen es you leave the great teeming slums of the pro- nee re East End, of London, and make your way west, you must eventually arrive in the’ favored quarter of Belgravia. This is a quarter of large quiet squares, filled with shady streets and carpeted with well-kept grass, They are not public squares, however; only the oceupants of the stately houses surrounding these small parks have keys to enter the gate in the iron fence surrounding them. Belgravia—so-called from Belgrave Square, in its centre-—is in the south-western part of London, near Buckingham Palace, that great ugly pile of brick and stone where resides the royal family. It is the most “select” part of the metropolis. A discreet quietude pervades these leafy squares, with their great houses of grey stone or drab stueco. Not many pedestrians are to be seen on the streets. The inhabitants always ridé, in their automobiles. Tere may be a solitary policeman, majestically marching. Or a brightly painted motor-wagon stops to deliver goods from some famous store. When the front door to one of these mansions is opened, you have a glimpse of a tall, clean-shaven man-servant, or of a white-capped, white-aproned, black-skirted maid-servant. If you pass early in the morning, you will note the servant-girls, in their working overalls, cleaning windows, washing the white stone door-steps. in these. great houses, as many as eight to a dozen domestic workers are often employed. These comprise, cook. parlor-maids, kitchen-maids, butler, footmen, chauffeurs and page-boy. The houses were built about one hundred and fifty years ago, and, although solid enough in construction, they are mest Giffieult to work in, from the point of view of do- mestic workers. They were built in the days when domestic labor was unaided by labor-saving devices, nor simplified by the good sense of the architect, in plenning his house. The servants’ part of the house is in the base- ment. Here are the kitchen and scullery, and, in the larger establishments; the “servants’ hall.” This latter is a room, in the basement—a part of the house which enjoys practically no daylight, and where artificial light is used all day during winter. This room is elegantly furnished with all the broken or rejected furniture from the upper portion of the house. Here the servants enjoy their “social life.” They sleep, either in the basement, or in small rooms at the top of the house, in the atties.. And lucky is the domestic worker who has a room to herself! ‘ The household slaves are permitted to have one evening free per week. On these free evenings, how- ever. they must return home before a-certain hour— usually eleven o’clock—or be locked out for the night, as they are not allowed a door-key. And, unless a very satisfactory excuse is forthcoming, to - be locked out is generally punished by dismissal. Pious servants, desiring to attend church, are usually given Sunday mornings or evenings free, on slternate Sundays. But it is understood that they really must go to church, and not deceive their em»loyers by just taking a walk in the fresh air! The hours of labor, among these domestic serfs, are about 14 per day. They rise at six in the morn- ing and are on duty until eleven or later at night. And when their employers are giving a ball or other social functions, they may be kept up until two or three in the morning, and, in the bargain, they have the job of clearing up the remains of the party, on the following day. + Im the large country houses of the rich, similar conditions prevail. The average small country es- tate has about twelve domestic servants. . Their hours are about 15 per day. Often their slecping quarters are of a most primitive nature, especially when a large number of guests are entertained, and room must he made for them and for the personal servants they pring with them. - On some of the larger estates, over fifty servants are employed, including many men, who work as chauffeurs, butlers, footmen, valets and gardeners. These slaves are the witnesses of the most gorgeous pom vem oe MORTAR MIXER You seem a witch that hovers over charms— You move within this cauldron’s reeking smoke. Arrayed in your long’ white-baspattered cloak *. That wraps around your swaying legs and arms, You wield a hoe that raises hot alarms ~ Of steaming vapor. All the timid folk Go rushing headlong by, while your swift stroke Prepares this mixture that the quick-lime warms. And now are filled each barrow and each hod With mortar that shall build a pleasant home, _ Closing the seams and holding bricks together— While here you stand like to some kindly god - Who conjures up this miracle, this dome Of happiness against the wind and weather! ~- entertainments, where the women of the rich wear, in one evening, jewels which would maintain several working class families for a year. They see all the arrogant snobbery and insolence of the wealthy. Surely this should breed in these workers the pas- sion of class hatred, and the understanding of the class war? But it is not only in the houses of the very rich that the exploitation of the domestic workers is met~ In another part of London, you will see houses which were once the residences of the rich—the com- fortable streets of the rich British merchants of a hundred er more years ago. But these streets have degenerated; they now have an air of respectable squalor. These houses have become cheap boarding- houses, or rooming-houses. In these houses, in the small rooms, into which the former spacious salons have been sub-divided, live the under-paid ¢lerks, the thousands of “white-collar slaves,” who work in the myriad offices of the city. In such houses, one cr two women servants may be employed. Theirs is veritably a life of hell. Their work is not even organized as is the domestic work of a wealthy household, where many servants are employed. These miserable slaves of the kitchen are at the call of their mistress, the landlady, or of the guests of the house, every minute of the day. In the under- ground kitchens, amid dirt and darkness, they start, in the early morning, preparing breakfasts. Each lodger in the house has his or her time for getting up and eating breakfast; and, laden with trays, the servant must climb the high narrow stairs twenty - times. While this is being done, there are rings and calls from other rooms: one requires hot water, brought in a ean, for shaving—in the average Eng- lish rooming-house there “is no runn.ag water in any room except the kitchen. Another reauires his laundry; another this and another that. The land- lady is nervous and hysterial—the inevitable result ef such an existence. She visits her own fretfullness on the peor little slave of the kitchen. Abused and over-worked, from early morning until late at night, for a shamefully low wage; living-amidst dirt and discomfort; without privacy or leisure; such is the life of the domestic worker in the cheap boarding- house. In the cheap boarding-houses, also, one often meets foreign boys who work as waiters at tables. They are French, Swiss, German or Czech lads usu- ally. They work only for their bed and food receiving ne money wage, or perhaps just a shilling a week pocket-money. These boys have been secured for the boarding-house proprietors by unscrupulous em- ployment agents who advertise in Swiss or other newspapers for boys who wish to learn languages and British hotel methods. Wishing their son to be- LL) LE AY es SS | a —HENRY REICH, JR: Pi —-3— By CHARLES ASHLEIGH come a waiter-—later—in a «first-class hotel, the perents often save just enough for the hov’s third- class fare to London. Once in London, penniless and friendless, not knowing the language. the hoy is compelled to take any job the employment agent offers, however vile the conditions. No better than the lot of the private domestic workers is that of those who labor in the hotels and expensive clubs of London. Recently, for instance, the British labor press gave details of cases which had come to the knowledge of the newly-formed Domestic and Hotel Workers’ Union. A girl of 17, for instance, employed as kitehenmaid at a well!- known conservative club in London, works 90 hours a week for eight shillings! She also complains that her life is made miserable by the continual nagging and bullying to which she is subjected. This is no unusual instance, but is typical of the eases of © thousands of young girls, in scores of hotels or residential clubs in the fashionable parts of London. The infamous exploitation of young girls, in do- mestic service—many of whom aré from country villages, and have no friends or advisers in the city— has Ied to many of them, in desperation, adopting the career of prostitution, in preference to the mis- erable life of a kitchen slave. Another section of domestic workers consists of those who live at home. but work, either by the hour or the day, for a family, or for several families. These are usually married women-—often widows, with children to gupport, or the wives of unemployed workers. One tynical case was revealed recently in a letter from one of these domestic workers to the “Sunday Worker.” the well-known militant left. wing newspaper. The writer says: “At my last job I was promised fifteen shiilines a week, and my first pay day I received only twelve shillings. after an awful areument. Cash was left lying all over the house, probably to see if IT would steal it! Food there was in plenty, but being paid by the hour, all that I was allowed was a cup of tea. The children of the house had lots ef toys and playthings. What chance has my kid at home of toys, on. my miserable pay?” The above affecting document is merely typical of the cases of thousands of others. These domestic workers, like their brothers and sisters who live on the job, working in the houses of the rich, or in affluent hotels, are nearly all unorganized. It is ene of the worst examples of negligence that the Pritish Trade Unier movement has ignored these exploited workers. Time and time again, delegates to various labor hodies—especially women delegates --have emphasized the need for the organization and eclass-conscious education of domestic and hotel workers, but the bureancracy of the British trade union movement, with its usual sloth and lack of initiative, has failed to respond. Quite recently, however, a bezinning has been made. Not through the efforts of trade union leed- ers, however, but by the initiative of rank-and-file workers and left-wing militants. Within the dast eicht months, the Domestic and Hotel Workers’ Union. has been formed, and has already set on foot an energetic campaign. * A series of articles, hy Comrade Leonard Mason, the London erganizer of the union, in the “Sunday Worker,” elicited a number of responses from do- mestic workers. The first few months of the union’s existence has shown that, even among -domestic workers, there is a. desire for organization, and that a more militant spirit—reflected, possibly, from the industrial workers—is taking the place of the old habit of servility. i Domestic workers in Britain were especially inter- ested to read, in the “Sunday Worker,” of the very different conditions of domestic workers in the U. S. S. R. The example of their Russian brothers and sisters will inspire them to real efforts towards a new standard of work and living. It is hoped that the new union will grow stronger and stronger, and that, when the next reneral strike occurs in Britain, the rich neople will have to sweep their own floors, wash their own dishes, and cock their own food—- if they get any! i ELECTRICAL WORKER You spread your cunning cables o’er vast walls And string your lamps upon the faery towers Of lofty structures. Through long toiling hours rou labor in your grimy overalls To rear these beacons and great waterfalls. Of light to flood the city. Mystic powers Are yours to turn gray buildings into Or dancing girls with many-colored shawls. - For at your toucf black midnight becomes noon, You rob the dusk of all its terrors now, ‘The world is lit by myriad glowing fires That you have kindled, and the sun and moon Are put to shame—the while you mop your brow And gather up your blue-prints, tools and wires. ers —HENRY REICH, JR. © a” ,