The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, April 3, 1898, Page 21

THE SAN FRAN’CISCO CALL, SUNDAY, APRIL 3, 1898. RECRUITING MEN FOR THE NAVY Every-Day Scene in the Office. Where All Sorts of Men Are Volunteering for Service on Uncle Sam’s New Battle-Ships. N hour at the naval recruiting rendezvous down near the water front is very interesting just now. This naval recruiting rendez- Vo California and Market streets is quite typical of the many aces dJotting the American shore where the brawn and heart d courage that must be the nation’s 1 reliance in any hour of strugsgle may come, is being given greater The good Annapolis and New- rt braineries have finished their out- gallant order-givers and now the recruiting station looms up as the nation’s chief further reliance for fight- men. It was easy enough to enter this por- tal of the naval service opened a few days ago on telegraphic orders from Washington. Up a T airway, past the big p nted, for the navy of the Unite etc., a turn past a dozen or more men conversing in the hallway, doubtful, willing or and then the without knock- ugh it is to go in to say: “Here 1 am, old ¢ if you have any pondering you sign those mome; articles of lering before 3 . Ponder as forge or among fellow citizen ink it over again, a elso doing t the head of am won't sit e step cut with you. pay in the navy in the streets a gentleman 1 a very few minutes. t in with Jack Kelso, whose a . 1 made before e reception room eight gone in a minute or two lently with S respect- 1 two long t that by g iron le 1d messroom S e the sole symbols of the a th except for a few queer- knotted cords and cab 1 a cor- said busy War- n from the re burst forth h a kindly eve anner. Lieu- in command a minute,” , and room and hs weeping glance wall, sir,” and the d of the wiry lit- litary w v put on his H world with so quick an ambition to bat with s in the little fellow’s d the poor t and shot s over. what do you want to enlist sked the lieutenant, quickly, of 1t ow by the door. as a seaman. e you born? “I was born in New Orleans, but I raised France, sir,” said the « headed little low, cowering a How can you prove that you n in New Orleans?” asked nant Stoney with a searching. cal squint that helped emphasize lorious fact that no man but an B! 1 citizen by birth or adoption can get into the American navy these o little fellow was passed for ex- ation by the luck of a moment's ¢ on and Jack Kelso stood eved and strong limbed, to and cheerfully, “I want sser.” intry 2" “Born and raised in San Francisco.” That was enough to pass Jack to the medical examination that is the only one required for coal passers. | “Send this man in, Barr,” and went in to weighed, mea show hi room, name colors and let the surgeon record every identifying mark and cer- tify that he was up to the unrelenting standard of almc perfect physical manhood that measures every last man that rides the sea for Uncle Sam. “Here, Peters, the doctor passes you. Let’s see what vou know,” sald Officer Barr to a waiting candidate for a sea- man’'s berth. “What's a topgallant m’'st?” “What's the opposite of east By kbuth A minute of such ques- tioning and then Peters sat down and reeved a purchase and tied strange knots that bind where the salt spray files and then he picked up a marlin spike and spliced two cable ends with a mastery that backed up his account of his sea experlence. minutes is enough for a sea- prove his seamanship to a sea- then Peters in 1898 was not ng for frigate under Captain Hull and a seaman’s examination isn't what it 1 to be when the engine room was aloft and when stray zephyrs gave guns their quarry. A The clerk had a bunch of papers v and six waiting men who had ed were summoned to a table. ive moment has come for you, There's a minute yet in which to retreat. “Here, Murphy, we haven't got the name of a relative in your record yet,” aid the clerk to a brawny fellow an unshaven face and seedy clothes. “I haven't got any relatives I can , sir. 11, give the name of some friend. got to have somebody to send dead body to in case you die, you g was the kind and cheerfully mat- ter-of-fact lanation to Murphy articles of agreement were ly read to each man in turn, reary job to the clerk, and there verent seriousness in the atti- h raw recruit as he listened to the hard and fast covenant with Un- cle Sam which includes section 1422 of the F ised Statutes. *“Now put your name here, Murphy,” and “‘Daniel Murphy” is laboriously in- scribed on a blank line in a big six- ge document. “And now here in this book. W in this book.” I didn’t get that quite on the line,” says Murphy, apologetically, as the job ended in the register so full of ruled columns. “That's all right, Murphy. You be- long to Uncle Sam now and you've got a day’'s pay coming to you,” says the good-natured clerk. “Be here at 3 o’clock to go to Mare Island.” And so a bunch of more defenders were added to Uncle Sam’s force and so the rapid, decisive routine of C. ceptance and rejectment of men went on through the day. “They're coming in faster than con take care of them,” e: Barr in a m a hundred a day com: in and we accept about twenty-five.” Seamen and coal passers are quickly examined and accepted or rejected at the re e The navy wants skilled 4 inists, for the fighting machine of to-day is a big ma- chine shop, supplied with everything but big shop machinery. And it wants engineers and firemen as well as sea- men and coal heavers. An engineer is at the rendezvous to examine skilled laborers and when th pass this and the rigid medical e amination they are sent to the shop at Mare Island for another examins tion by foremen and engineers there, for Uncle Sam wants none not masters Of course the skilled labor s all for ships. The men in vard shops are merely hired n He passed me quick,” said Jack Kelso, jubilantly, twelve minutes after he went into the surgeon. And in fif- teen minutes more Jack made the covenant with a jolly joke. He sobered up and told why he went into the navy. “Now, I'm giving up a salary of *12 50 a week,” he explained. “But I got tired of San Francisco and just thought that M trip to the skin and ured and thumped, to teeth, read letters across the J t And we ‘‘About A = 2/ 5 2 2 g MRS I TREN VN e ny N TreresreeTTSStTerey a change in my life would be good for me. I wouldn’t have enlistedif it hadn’t been for the war talk, but I don’t care Whether there’s a fight or not.- If T get Into one I'm willing to take my chances. There's nothing the matter with me and I haven't smoked or drank in four years. My folks don't want me to go and they say I'll get to be a bum, but I guess I'll come out all right.” There were boys like Jack in the Maine, and there’ll be anxious hearts to follow Jack to sea from the Mission, as anxious hearts all over this land were with the boys on the Maine when she moored in Havana harbor. “Most of thede men going in ain't like me,” Jack continued. “I've talked with fifty of them and they’re going for all sorts of reasons. Some say they want to see a fight and some just go for the excitement, but the most of them were just discouraged and on their uppers more or less and want a chance for a respectable living. “T've talked with fellows that say they've lost their grip somehow and they think they can save their man- hood and self-respect and have a little wad in three years by going into the navy.” Jack was right. Amid all the motives that bring the trooping recruits to the naval rendezvous the chief one is un- doubtedly the new and better hold on life that the service offers to men weary of struggles with misfortune. The long-used collars, the frayed hats and the general appearance of many who troop up those stairs are eloquent of hard times. STESIRESTR T, £ D05 REPIDATION 1; X &R o7 gl W}\' «Yn 7 ‘l"“!,n‘{l\ ! 2 T2 T TR AL oo It will not be all Jack Kelso. It will be “four hours on and elght off” with him and plenty of drill and other service, and in action he would have his station and duty when “off watch” below decks or at the guns. The little Sunol left for Mare Island at 4 p. m, and twenty men were marched from the rendezvous to board her, some within an hour after passing examination. At the wharf a middle- aged little woman had a moment’'s chance to give Jack Kelso a tearful hug. Eighteen hours later Jack was trigged out in his uniform on the re- ceiving ship at the navy yard and lined up with an awkward squad in front of the drill sergeant. coal-passing for AUCTIONING OFF JOBS IN THE LABOR MARKET N the block on Clay street, which is flanked by the thoroughfares of Montgomery and Kearny, there are a number of odd outposts of the labor mart of San Francisco. They call themselves labor bureaus, and such they are, but in a wider sense they are labor markets, the stalls to which labor comes to barter itself to capital, and where the bidding between the two fixes the price for the com- modity of service in all branches throughout the State of California. For if the bid for labor here is high, how long will men employed remain at jobs which pay them less than the rate here given? Straightway the door of the labor emporium becomes jammed with the dingily dressed toil- ers, and the jobs which they left go upon the walls thereof calling for hands at a higher wage. Curious places are these, in number half a dozen, perhaps, Including one bazar, which deals especially in the Asiatic article, and about whose open door the flat brown faces of the Japan- ese contrast with the rharp visages of the Chinese in a different shade of tan. A garnish of pawnshops, their windows hung with cheap watches and glittering with nickel-played pistols, surround the labor joints, and the mo- notony of these is relieved by a sprink- ling of saloons and occasionally a ten- cent restaurant. These embellish divided by a narrow and very treet, give character to the labor market district. There especial and unusual activ- ity manifest at present in this region, growing out of possibly the shaking up which the labor conditions of the State have had over the Alaska exodus. The walls of the labor places are covered with paper signs lettered in glaring red, men surge in and out the crowded in- teriors and up and down through these Q [InicaTiNG sPECIALLY Goop Uoss. \ L = YPES oF Tut' Unempovss ° % ) crowds go criers declaiming in loud voices the jobs they have to offer and calling upon those about them to accept the same and go to work. “Now I want five men to go to Marin County,” shouts one of these labor auc- tloneers. “‘Easy work, plowing between vines. Here you get buttermilk, sweet milk, butter on your bread; blankets at night; fine climate; healthful work. Sent off five this morning, want five more to go on the boat to-night; who's going? Now, boys, wake up, and go to work. Here I want a cook for a coun- try hotel; wash his own dishes; twelv. regular boarders and forty at dinner:; must be an all-around cook—no restau- rant cook. Soup, roast meats and pas- try. Who'll take that job?" No one in the crowd responds. They saunter about reading the glaring signs calling for men to cut fifteen thousand redwood ties at 8 cents each, woodchop- pers at $125 per cord and other pla- cards of the stock sort—apparently, for no one seems ever to accept the offers, and they hang there and become dis- colored. Beneath these sensationally drawn advertisements are seated upon benches an unbeautiful row of wall flowers, smoking dirty pipes and look- ing demure. Occasionally a word of denunciatory cominent escapes them. “Here!"” says the crier, buttonholing one of the most passe of these, “Why don’t you take this job? What can you do? Can you milk a cow? Fifteen dollars and found to milk cows; ten cows, twelve cows, maybe fifteen cows; who wants this job? Can’t do that? Thirty cents a day and grub to carry a slgn through the streets for a restaurant; city job: .who'll take that? I want a dishwasher: fifteen a month and found. Ain’t there a man in the crowd who can wash dishes?” Still no one responds; only smoking and si- #nce and scuffling of feet. Then the crier looks straight ahead as though staring into space, becomes red in the face and shouts: “What’s the matter with you fel- lers? Don’t you want work? Ain’t you = 7 = N < M l R S S S S U S S T e T OSSN ST N here for business? That's what I'm here for. Are you waiting for better jobs and more wag or ain’t you got your money spent yet?” Then the Cicero grows pessimistic: “I tell you, boys,” he asserts, “I never saw the outlook for work so bad as it is to-day. You want farm work, eh? Well, where are you going to get it? The grain crop is gone; all down the San it won't pay to cut it. The had no rain, and only a little Sacramento will be saved. If you're waitin’ for the grain crop to carry you out you'll starve first. Now, maybe you're waltin’ for the fruit rop to take you out. Well, that crop’'s gone, too. Didn’t you read the papers about that big frost ou last Monday night; well, that killed all the apricots and al- mond. Look right there on the wall; that's a bank in the city here wantin’ to let a contract to cut two thousand cord of stove wood; it's apricots and almonds; and they're cutting out an orchard because the trees ain't profita- ble any more.” “That's so,” interrupts a scarred- faced man with a black mustache, “T went up on a ranch last week to work apricots and was let out with six oth- ers when the frost struck.” Groans from the crowds follow this statement and a florid Celt with a voice in high key declares the scarred-tace is a booster for the house. This is indig- nantly denied by the owner of the scar. and the pipes of the auctioneer start up again leaving the quarrel to bevel down to subsistence in groans. Presently the voice stops and the hum of conversation which resumes from the crowd indicates that the auc- tioneer has retired. He has disappear- ed, indeed, and 1 seek him in a side apartment, where he materializes at a disheveled desk in the midst of a bevy of laborers who have drained them- selves out of the company in the ad- jacent hall, and have come to apply for some of the much praised jobs. “You're a Swede milker,” says the Crier, now transformed into a bustling man of business, as he looks down up- on the hands of the first man beside him. A moon face, brushed on the top by a whisp of yellow hair, breaks into curving wrinkles at this remark, and a strong Norse voiee asks, “How you know dat?” “I tell by that knot on your right thumb,” says the man of business. “You strip the teat with your thumb when you milk. You want that milker job, don’t you? Well, where did you work last?” and so a formula of ques- tions and answers are rehearsed, the Swede pays $2 and is given the address of the employer, with a letter of intro- duction from the house. “And what do you ‘ant?” asked the swift man of the scowling young coun- tenance next beside him. “Want that buggy-washing job,” is the reply made with a swagger of the head and a scuffle of the foot. “Are you a buggy-washer?” “Yes." “Where did you ever wash buggies?” “Smith & Mahoney's.” “How do you go about washing a buggy? “Well,” with another swagger and scuff, “I jack up the axle, take the wheel off the box and see if it needs greasin’.” “You won't do; take another job,” and he passes to the next man. “Why didn’t vou take that man who wanted the buggy-washing job?” I aske . the hustler, “ter he Lad gone through the company with much of that expedition and success with which a circus rider gets through a hoop. ° “Why didn’t I take him? Because the man who wants to do the hiring in that job is a crank. That fellow is an American and he’s bad tempered. He wouldn’t last with that crank two days. Besides, e didn’t know his work; he's never washed buggies, and there'd be a row between them before they’d been together twenty-four hours. I'll have to put an easy-going German on that ob.” : “How do you know he never washed buggies?” I asked. “Because he didn’t know how to start the work. In washing a buggy the first thing you do is to take out and dust off the cushions and carpet.” “The jobs vou offer,” I remarked, “are pretty good, are they not? Why i it you must spend so much breath in getting men to take them? I have heard it sald that a fob .f any kind was hard to get in San Francisco, yet you seem to have plenty of work to offer men and you find few takers. How is that?” “Well, you see,” returned the Crier, “those men out there are waiting for higher wages. They make the rounds of the whole street, read the signs, hear the talk and see what is offered. They are just as emphatic connois- seurs in selecting a job as your wife is in buying tea. They don’t pick up anything that comes along; oh, no; they're after snaps; and they are will- ing to wait for them. They won’t take any ald thing unless they e ta. and ICNING THE ARTICLES OF AGREEMENT, Rodh . & U Fto it G ah they don’t have to until the money with which they are paid off on their last job is all gone; then they have to take whatever they can get and get out. “Many of those men you see out there have been walking up and down this street on a lookout *for jobs for three weeks past, and they haven't taken one yet. They're holding off, on the bull side of the market. The employer is on the bear side. I tell you, the thing just pivots on a nice center. Let the newspapers print a report of anything that is likely to throw a number of men out of work—any general thing like a high wind, beating rain, or a bad frost that destroys crops or fruit—and I will fecl the effects of it the very next day. When the syndicate or the corporation sends to this office for men it offers less than it did the day before; and it will not offer more until it is absolutely pinched by the refusal of men to take its jobs; then its bid will go up a notch and keep going until labor accepts. It's a play on the laborer’'s bedrock necessities every time.” The condition seems to militate strongly against progeny, and therein abides a most vital problem for the study of economists. “There are thou- sands of families in San Francisco,” said the Crier, “many of whom are in the deepest destitution, who would be glad to go to the country and work on the farms. But they have children and children are barred: all the orders I get say, ‘send man and wife; no, don’t want couple with children; we've got children enough of our own.’ So these people have to stay in the city and do the best they can; and many of them have mighty poor pickings, I tell you.” And thereupon is the reflection con- Jjured, ‘if society shuts off the laborer from reproducing, who wilt do the la- bor work for the future generations? “Why don’t you take a job and go to work?” I asked of one of the men behind a pipe who, seated on a wooa bench, was ably sustaining the weight of one leg upon the other. ‘““What kind of work do you do? Carpenter? There you are; three dollars a day with only 60 cents off for board, and take your blankets. What do you want bet- ter than that?” “Well, sur, to tell yez the fruth, Of don’t think the job is wort’ the money —that is to say, Oi think it should pay better than thot,” was the reply. “What class of work do you think is the best for a man to engage in now?” I asked. ‘“Well, sur, Oi should give it as me opinion thot for an ordinary laborin’ mon, the best he could do wad be to be a cook. There's aiways a demand for thim; they get from thirty-five to forty dollars a month an’ found, an’ the clothes they wear costs thim next to nothin’; an’ what's more, the work's easy, an’, for the most part, he’s hees own boss. Did you ever hear thot story - about Alexander the Great an’ the Cynic? Well, Alexander, ye know, said thot, ‘If Oi war not Alexander Of wad be Diogene’; an’ faith it's thot way wid mesilf. If Oi war not a car- penter Oif wad be a cook.” The profits in conducting these labor bourses must be very considerable, since they are paid from $1 to $5 each time they place an employve, the fee invariably being the contribution of the laborer. y One concern told me that its averags placement was over twelve hundred per month, and that its books for last year showed over 17,000 made during that twelvemonth. At that rate the in- come of this concern could not have been less than $25,000 for the perioa named. As there are six of these con- cerns in the city, I estimate that through them no less than 50,000 per- sons find positions annually, and that the aggregate sum paid by the labor- ers for the service thus rendered is be- tween $75,000 and $100,000. JOHN E. BENNETT. TRICKS ON TRAVELERS, Mr. Thorold, an English gentleman who has just arrived at Tunis in his 320 ton yacht Lady Godiva, has had an amusing experience. He was walk- ing his deck one afternoon, when he es- pled a gorgeous Oriental, dressed in the most striking red and green, being rowed about in a barge, and evidently admiring the yacht exceedingly. Being good-natured and fond of Orientals, Mr. Thorold engaged the stranger in con- versation, and, finding him interested in yachts, invited him to come on board. The invitation was accepted, and the stranger took occasion to men- tion that he was Prince Mahomet, son of the Bey of Tunis. Mr. Thorold was considerably impressed, and, after hav- ing shown his guest all over the yacht, took him to his saloon, which is fur- nished with wonderful embroideries and adorned with water colors by the best masters. The Drince won everv- ITTTO &P RATIFICATION % 3¢ %} T T At w R r I T T TRy TV B SR % =RSPIRATION zéfififi* T T TS S 5555 et body’s heart, smoking some excellent havanas and drinking a bottle of cham- pagne with the utmost condescension. ‘When at last he took his leave he in- vited his host to return the visit at the palace of Marsa next day, offering to send carriages to fetch him. Mr. Thorold went to a photographer in the Avenue de la Marine to order an instantaneous apparatus, which he thought might be useful at the palace, particularly as the prince had prom- ised to introduce him to his harem. Next day the prince came to fetch Mr. Thorold and graciously consented to stop at the photographer’s on the way. The man was rather slow, and Mr. Thorold sought to hurry him up by mentioning that his Highness Prince Mahomet was waiting outside. The photographer came out with the parcel and found that “his Highness” was a notorious guide who haunts the bazars and has often imposed upon strangers in the most bdrefaced way. He once went to Malta, represented himself as a member of the family of the Bey of Tunis and was entertained by a number of officers for several days undetected. —_——————————— QUEER SHOWS IN THE EAST. R. FREDERICK C. WHITNEY once took a show composed of cowboys, Indians, Mexican va- queros and American sharp- shooters through India, China, Japan and the Malay Peninsula. He was speaking yesterday of some of the queer places he “showed” in during his tour in those far-away countries. “I found,” he said, “‘that the Parsees, the fire worshipers, who are the real natives of India, gave opera in a crude form in India over one thousand years ago, and to my surprise I had to show against a strong, well equipped organ- izauon known. as the Parsee Victoria Ccmpany, which travels about Lower , giving seasons of opera in the native language, with scenery, cos- tumes and properties manufactured en- tirely by native artists and mechanics, and presenting operas by native com- porers. “In the hill towns and the coast citizs I found fairly well constructed, com- fortable theaters, but in the small tewns of the outlying districts we had t) give our entertainments in huge bamboo walled and plantain leaf thatched edifices, constructed express- ly for their native opera season. These great halls, often large enough to seat one thousand people, are lighted with lamps and candles, and the effect of a thestrical entertainment given under conditions which necessarily- exist can be more easily imagined than described. “On the Malay Peninsula there were a number of enclosures devoted to dra-* matic entertainments, where only the actors are protected by a roof. There were no seats for the audience, exceut a few benches on each side of- the stage, which were reserved for the titled na- tives, but for which no extra charge is made., My audiences squatted on the ground, and in the event of a shower either relied upon umbrelias for pro- tection or dispersed. The stage and dressing rooms for the actors were at one end of the enclosure and covered with a thatch. For lights, bamboo poles were driven in the ground at reg- ular intervals, and on them were sus- pended cranes containing fire, which were regularly fed with combustible wood and tar. The walls were made of bamboo poles driven into the ground and braced from the inside. A money taker and money changer sat on each side of the single docrway and collected the entrance fee. “In upper Burmah I found dramatic entertainments and pantomime given by native companies on platforms at the foot of gradually sloping hills, portions of which are enclosed and used for the audience. In nearly all hot countries the dry season is the only theatrical season, as it Is Impossible to give open air entertailnments during the mon- soons. “In Japan I saw an entertainment given in the dry bed of a river that runs through th: city of Hiogo. The sloping ‘bgnks on each side were crowd- ed with spectators, and over 200 geishas marched in a bridal procession given during the performance. No admission to the entertainment was asked. the ac- tors and singers being paid by public subscription raised by the merchants when arrangements were made for the annual tea fair, which is conducted in a manner somewhat similar to our coun- ty or agricultural State fairs in this country. e e e The humming of telegraph wires is a phenomenon which h: not yet been satisfactorily explained. by wind, for it is heard during perfect calms. It has been conjectured that changes of temperature, which tighten or loosen the wires, probably produce the sound. It is not caused