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Lethbridge Herald Newspaper Archives

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Lethbridge Herald (Newspaper) - September 14, 1918, Lethbridge, Alberta A .IL WHY FACTORY WOMEN WAIT FOR WHISEETOBLOW \ Toronto Working Woman Tells of the Revelations That Came to Her in a Factory. down or lia down-that alone would seam Heaven to me. JiMl Try It Out �T'S o.isy for folk to sit in softly ENDLESS C^ASH OF THE MACHINERY And Terrible Monotony of Endlessly Doing the Same Thing Pall on One. 77iis is Vie first of a scries 0/ (irlivh-s written t>!f a Toronto woman forced by circumstances to seeK vorK-in a citv factory, and it tcVs of how her irffns concerning her feUo\i>icorK-crs changed as she came to know them and the coiidi/ions they work under. The second article deals with smoking and guvKhcicins and '-loafing-' on the ;o6. One of the su6-seguent articles in?! Jell irftj/ not one icoman in the hundreds tcho vorKca in this factor;/ ever went to chu^h. Another irilJ deal.with the -clothes" qurstioH, and another icith � "amusements.-' LEXTV "^of people write about . working girls and women. They shonldn't. Xot unless they are that themselves or have been- Otherwise they cannot really know. Thp.se same girls and women are rapiJly forming a considerable percentage of our population and-unless conditions in the world are greatly changed, even from what the;; were bcCove ihe war, this percentage must be kept up or increased. Before becoming a factory worker, I had sometimes heard the a-ht-lnele-ga'nt expression "Run like the devil." 1 never realized its meaning till I Jirst heard the' six o'clock factory whistle where 'I worked blow and saw the hundreds oCmen and women . -workers about me run-run as though Old Xick, himself, were after thera. On that very instant when the first sound reached them they dropped- as though it had been a hot potato- the thing they were working �with- and, witbouf^further ceremony ran - "like the devil": a mass of heltering, skeltering, grimy, black, . perspiring, tired men and women. The first night, in spite of my weariness, It reminded me of the old ditty I had heard in ray childhood: "Three blind rnice- See how tliey run! See how they run I' "But why do they run like that? Of course they are tired and glad to get away I know, but siTrely. there's no need of tham being so rough 'and wild and for the sake of a minute or two. I should think thej-'d go out decently," reprovingly and a bit condescendingly, said a person of the - other - world" as I told her some things in regard to, my factory life. TVeU-get there and you'll soon know. You ivon't ask why-then," I answered. "The first night I didn't run. The second-I didn't reason anything about the why, I only knew I was too tired to run. But, it wasn't Ions till I, too, ran "like his Satanic Majesty." It was just because I was so glad to get away from it all. The free moments were so precious;, I mustn't lose one. I wanted to own myself-to think ray own thoughts again and to not haVe to do the same thing ovej; and over for hours like a machine, and then that terrible rush and din and dirt all the time!-when the moment came I wanted to get away that very instant. Arid, of course, I was tired, bodily tired, and just wanted to get where I could sit i 1 upholstered easy choirs iimid congenial surroundings and write (when they feci like it), compkicently about "the be.iiit.v" of labor," nnd declare that the laborer shouM be so in love with his work that hu will not count the tin)o or caru wl\on the whistle blows. But-Say! Do you beliove'that there is ;i human anywhere, who, for 10 hours of every day (but one), in every week of every j-enr-or e\-cn tor 9 hours or 5 hours a day, can st.and amid the ordinary, din and dirt of whirling machinery and do one thing mechanical thing, that requires little or no thinking-over and over again in all those hours (perhaps in days of extreme heat), and this thing, too, doubtless necessitating the worker not only to stand, but also strain or lift or push or move something heavy-no change or let-up for an instant, oven though exhausted with the sheer hard work and routine of it all-who will not say, as I have said; and often heard othcr.s say. a? the w-elcome sound ot the whistle came:  "Thank God! It's over!" And thousa:ids of both men and women are doing that very kind of work right' in Canada to-day-millions'throughout the world. They will do it nSter ihe m-nr. they have done it before the war-though multiplied a hundred-fold because ot the avnr. Try it, for even a month, and you'll understand a lot ihiit you never understood before about people who toil -toil with thevr bodies and our world conditions. Eveiy city preacher should do it before he's qualified to preach to �working people, or before he expects to draw them to his church or to hoUl them to it when they come. Everj- law-maker should do it. Every writer who attempts to help, or picture-the truth. Every person who wears clothes, or eats food, or lives amid surroundings beyond the ordinary-that calls for the luxury of things - all demanding increased bodily labor in factory and mill and shop. Then, and then only, will thev realizo w-hy it was that at the end ot my first week spent amidst the din of buzzing raachinerj-, the grinding of huge belts, thArush of wheels, amidst grime nnd grease, surrounded by hundreds of wy fellow men and women, each of us with bent back and straining muscles, doing our mechanical process once-twice-thrice-on-on -on-until-a whistle blew; they will imderstand then, perhaps, why I prayed: "O God: If you'd just as liff. don't have Heaven ,TOlden streets, but have it, instead, with green grass imd trees." Must It Always Be? THEX. at the end of that first weok I began to realize what a Heaven would mean to the toiler, and what liind that Heaven would need be. It �was that kind I was sure the good God would give. Perhaps a working woman ;snt supposed to have "thoughts." Or, if she had, she shouldn't express them. Not 100 Miles From Toronto This WomahCombirvs^ HeaUkand Work On ver.>- Tempti-mg Dayj" canming-can becxdne ouTj-iDE,ir Nor tcx5Much li" Done at once,"- THERE'S COMEDY INJTHE QUEUE Even Where Tragedy Lurks, There Is Laughter, Too. - l^EEP MY OIL /TOVE INXIDE JH.E_BARNI.ON.WINDY DAYfJ.^ SOME QUAINT TYPES: /But, considering the fact that even ini ;^------. " . . ----J------------lojiside Trent and Hucker's.grocer shop. Toronto alone to-day there are a go 3Q,000 women who -n-ork in factories, mills and the like. I want to tell you some of thp further thoughts that crowded into my mind as I lay sore of arm and with aching limbs and smarting feet in the all-too-short off hours, �v\-hen I.was supposed to sleep, but was often too tired. They were, in part, these: God surely never meant human beings to live that way. He did not place thera here for that-shut in between walls toiling amidst that uproar and dirt, and at the same time, all.his beautiful out-door things lying free and open-and ioved dues, to be lovf.'d and friendships to be*efijoyed; little children needing care and sym-pathj-; and both our own and strangers' calling for sympathy and c^ire and help-^with all the beautiful things of life to be done, and seen and feR and-lived. And men and women, God created men and women, using every minute of their time and every bit ot their strength only on eamfngr money to buy things for the body: Clothes, food, houses and furnishings, and to spend on a bit ot passlrig pleasure (Ir; they were not too tired to take it); but all the time their minds and souls be left uncared for-until the worker has almost forgotten that these are a part of his make-up-surely, surely the world is not to ^o on forever like this-and this condition eteadi?}' on the Increase! If not-how are we to stop it':' And-who'.' "Who Is responsible for this state of affairs in the world? (To be continued.) "No Grumbling" Is the Final: Hulling BfRRie/: Preparatory to "Nc in a Long List of Them. By XORAH aTLER FLINT. LONDON, July 6, 1918. CEXE, the X/ondon Koad. Time, 10 o'clock on Saturday morning. A long queilB is lliiied up out- TONS OF LUSCIOUS ORANGES i^RE CAST BEFORE SWINE In Jamaica Orange Oil Is iMade by Primitive Methods, Resulting ' in Great Waste. It consists mostly of women and children, though here and there a despondent male may be seen, usually of the bottle-shouldered, hen-pecked variety, A large, highly-colored lady with a coral necklace, two string bags)" and four chins, heads the queue,, and leans, heaving but triumphant, against the barred doors. She is simply attired in a gr^en hat, trimmed with iife-like imitations of black-beetles .in jet, a magenta silk blouse, insecurely attached to a blue satin skirt, covered v/ilh an eruption of buttons. Her ankles and thereabouts are extensive, and ooze over the tops cf her w-hite canvas shoes. Next to her Elands a wiry little woman with CL thin, fierce nose and sparse grey hair drawn tightlj' under a rigid l^onnet, that looks as if it'had grown there, and never dame off. Behind her is a child of tenovith a. careworn expression, a tin can and. a cold in her head. .She is much agitated by the HERE MY RnUSARB MARMA-' LADE ij" having A GOOD .riMMeR.>pown " ONTARIO WOMAN DOES HER IR0NlNG,eOOKlNG,ETC., OUTSIDE She Is Regaining Her Heiltli By Eliving in the Open Air as Much as Possible. 3?y GEORGETTE TODD. UST come with me," I finished. Together we went out into J ipy -jjit very spacious "back- yard-" Fir^^ showed her ray "ironing studio," with Its high office stool, the seat of which revolves a la piano stool fashion, and a Tittle box I use (or a foot- stool. This combination tave;i me'inany a back ache from standing.,;' � "Well, of'all things," .said my friend, "^nd what, do you do on windy day?? Docs not .your oil stove go out then?" "Not at all," I said. "I put it just Inside of the barn door or just inside of one of those little sheds. If you have not a' barn or a shed convenient to the house, you can get a large packing box from the local hardware or furniture dealer, inside of which you can place your oil ,kojklng class, who wears a broad new wedding ring ,and carries a Ija.'jket. .Vext in order come two slatternly girLs, each,earrying a pallid baby, a Sergeant and Corporal ot the it. F. A., a bony lady with a. yellow skin and white eyelashes, xvhobe cheap ntuslin blouse permits glimpses of an exquisitely matched pearl necklace, two ijretty girls in white, a woman bus conductor, a post girl, and so on, in a diminishing pei-spectivc of women ot all sorts, classes and age. , - . . ConycrMtions APOUCEMAN, very .bored and lethargic; moves JiejiTily up and down the line. The following fragmentary conversations are overheard: Heaving Lady (discussing a recent air raid): "I can't sa^ as 'ow .I'm reely frlghtcned-Ilke,-not same aa Mrs. Bloggs. '00 sits with 'er lead in the flour bin uaOi � the h'all all them syringes go off,' Wiry'little woman �with the conscious superiority of the well-informed: "Syr'ji^esl We ain't 'ad no sjringoH,-this twelvemontlt. Them bangs we 'cars is the meringues they sends up. from the fire 'all!" Child ot Ten: "Plenf^e will someone lend me a pin?" Policeman: "Keep in line there, ladio-s- Keep In line!" -Sergeant R. F. A.: "So he says, well, anyway. Sergeant, the vacancy lias to be filled; what about Brown? So I .saya, 'Brown, Sir?' Make Brown a Bombadier? Why he hasn't got brains enough tor a Brlgadlerl" First ^latternjy GirJ: "Yes, 'e's got 'iK embrocation leave, and me and l-I'einma Is to meet 'ipi at Cannon street. I ahsU wear my new gore ^et blouap, and H'emma say*--" Child of,'Ten: "Please will someone lend me avPl^?" Pollcetr^r^:' "Keep ladles. Keep in line." Fat Man: "So I allowed her the bit I'd cut oijt of the paper, ancl it said as plain as 'eggs as how you could got pickled pig's check without a cow-pong. Quito narsty about it, she was -."iuid somothink abaht there being more kinds ot pig than ono, and that in line there the sort as weren't pickled had the most cheek. So I--" Bony I.ady: "Yes, actually refused to eat margarine, and I pay the creature �35 a year! I asked her where she thought I was going to get butter, and she said It wasn't her pl.-ice to give me advice! Imn.ertinence! I aiisure you I spent hours standing in flueues and when*!, got homo with four ounces, simply tottering with fatigue, Bhe came Into my boudoir and said she had never been aocualomed to a bedroom with a north aspect, and gave a month's notice.' Llfa Is really becoming alniost-,-", Child of Ten: "Please will someone lend me a pin?" ' ' Child ot Ten: "Please will someone lend me a pin?" The shop door suddenly opens, and a large, fj�bby man in a white coat, fastens a piece of paper to'the window'with wafer. 'The queue surges forwai-d, tiut the flabby man quickly withdraws and bangs the dooi-. The I^eaving Lady, by virtue OJ her pOBltlojii, repds the notlc-j ^loud. It runs aS follows: "No butter, no margarine, no lard, no' bacon, not jam, no matches, no tea. No grufrtbling." The queue ^elts .-iiltntly away. TJjc dalteeman yawns, takes off his I will repeat old inexpensive orgies; brink nectar at the bun-shop in Shoreditch. call for Nut-Ambrosia at St. - George's, And with a ghost-tip make the �vvultress rich. My soundless feet shall fly among the runners, � Through the red thunders ot a Zeppelin raid, My stiJl voice cheer the Anti-craft gunners, The fires shall glare-but I shall cast no shade. And If a Shadow, wading in the torrent Ot high excitement, snatches me from the riot- (Fool that he is)-and fumWe witlj his �warrant. And hail a hearse, and beg mo to "Go quiet." Mocking I'll go, and he shall be pos-tinion. Until we reach the Keeper ot the Door; "Hm ____�.. Bensoii ---- Stella .... militant civilian .... There's Bomo mistake, we've had this Boul bctore......" Ah, none shall keep my soul from this "itB Zion; LoBt in the spaces I shall hear and . blesa The splendid voice of London, like a Hon ,' Calling its, lover in the wilderness. helmet and wipes his streaming head. A little figure emerges from behind a neighboring pillar box, carrying a tin can, and an indefinite bundle of something pink. By ANNIB GRAY BUTCHER. HE Government Lady found the place she was looking for, a moro thread ot a lano hidden behind a garage, its brlcl longth'cut Off by a high �woodeil lenco behind wiilcli a dealer in rags, bones and bottles stored his wares. It �was a hot, hot morning, and tho dwellers ot the lane had como out to the "see side" for a breath ot air. That is, tney had come out to tho front ot the houses where they cou!d__ soo whatever ripple ot life might drift" in from the outside world, and catch any breeze that so far forgot itself as to come up that lane. One Utile thrce-yoar-bld girl had the theory oC clothing conservation down to one sfcant tattered garment. She looked like some little,, ducky, curly-haired nymph who had strayed away IT.-om the Garden of Eden without her fig leaf. Poor little mite;'' she was far, far a^way from the Garden of Eden! But she tossed hfer curls In tho sun and her little bare, feet danced and skipped on the hot pavement as If she heard the Pipes o' Pan, and breathed the scented breezes ot Arcadia. i Abey, the InterprHer" '' THE Government Lady woujd have liked to have stopped, but In the last house a Russian Jewess was waiting for her. The Je^vlsh woman's eldest son, Maurice, had enlisted with the .Tcwish Legion and some papers anent his money had to be filled out. The Jewess could not speak English, so the business had to be done while Iwclve-ycar-old Abey was at home to act aar interpreter-and Abey was in a hurry to catch the free car to Sunnyslde bathing station. With Abey as a channel, buslncsg progressed haltingly, Tho woman was a widow. There were three children younger than Abey and two older, including Maurice. With Abey doing his eloquent best, birthdays ot the children could not bo told so that they could be set down in English. They wore born so many days or weeks or months before or after  Passover. The mother marveled that more definite Information should be desired. .Why did not elghteen-year-old Stella work? She had the lame back, the twisted leg. And the mother led the way to a dark, hot little room where poor shrunken pain-aged Stella was strapped to a bed- Would Stella ever get better? tho lady asked Abey. Abey repeated the query to his mother, who shook her head in patient hopelessness. The mother whispered earnestly to Abey and nodded at tho Lady. An Anxiolu Mother �i\ * AURICB went away on tho iVi boat," said Abey, his great old-mannish eyes pleading to read all , the great secrets ot the world's events that he and his mother felt sive the Government Lady must know-that great cruel fighting world that tliey were afraid ot that their ignorance of the Bnglish language made a sealed book to them, that they only knev/ through �what Maurice, who had gone to the war, had told them. N.., - ' "We've nothad a letter since he v.'cn'fT Will we get a letter soon?" The Government Lady's mind went on a swift search for some words of comfort to give the wistful-eydd little brother and the worried, anxious mother. "Maurice Vill send you a letter as soon as he gets off the boat. He couldn't post a letter on the boat, you know," assured the lady, seckjng to bridge with reason the span of letterless suspense. "Will you know when he gets off the boat?" asked Abey, promoted by another Yiddish whisper, from his mother. "Certainly, we'll nil hear when Maurice gets oft the boat," she said with cheerful-If unauthorized-assurance. "He'll send you a letter , right away, and .be sure to tell the postman It you move," "We're not goln' to move," said Abej^j firmly. "My mother saylt cost loo much to move, so we stay here tl'll this house is pulled down," Then ho added retrospectively: "We always stay In houses till they get pulled down." The Sad Side of Life THE Government Lady gave a swift gj^anoo .around the room and did a little mental calculation. She reckoned that thoy would be moving In about two years at the latest, if time and the elements did not beat ' y'/ the wreckers to it and the house ' ' tumble down before that time, which did not seem unlikely. There �was some more whlsperlpg between A.b�ir and his mother.' Will you brlBB us Maurlce'i money when it ootnes?" askedJlbey. It Didn't Woric "JJID you try the simple plan of counting sheei? for' your Insomnia?'' Yes, doctor, but I made a mess of It^ I counted 10,0(10 sheep, put 'em on tho cars and shipped 'em to market. And when I'd got through counting the wad of money I got for them at present prices it was time to get up.",,  � ;