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happened. Neither of them knew exactly what. They did not figure on

promotion. They did not exactly count on marriage. Things would go on,

though, in a dim kind of way until the better thing would eventuate,

and Carrie would rewarded for coming and toiling in the city. It was

under such auspicious circumstances that she started out this morning

to look for work.

 

Before following her in her round of seeking, let us look at the sphere

in which her future was to lie. In 1889 Chicago had the peculiar

qualifications of growth which of young girls plausible. Its many and

growing commercial opportunities gave it widespread fame, which made

of it a giant magnet, drawing to itself, from all quarters, the hopeful

and the hapless those who had their fortune yet to make and those

fortunes and affairs had reached a disastrous climax elsewhere. It was

a city of over 500,000, with the ambition, the daring, the activity of

a metropolis of a million. Its streets and houses were miles. Its

population was not so much thriving upon pared prepared for the arrival

of others. The sound of the ham everywhere heard. Great industries were

moving in. The huge railroad corporations which had long before

recognized the prospects of the place had seized upon vast tracts of

land for transfer and shipping purposes. Street-car lines had been

extended far out into the open country in anticipation of rapid

growth. The city had laid miles and miles of streets and sewers through

regions where, perhaps, one solitary house stood out alone a pioneer

of the populous ways to be. There were regions open to the sweeping

winds and rain, which were yet lighted throughout the night with long,

blinking lines of gas-lamps, fluttering in the wind. Narrow board

walks extended out, passing here a house, and there a store at far

intervals, portion was the vast wholesales and shopping district, to

which the uninformed seeker for work usually drifted. It was a

characteristics of Chicago then and one not generally shared by other

cities, that individual firms of any pretension occupied individual

buildings.

 

The presence of ample ground made this possible. It gave an imposing

appearance to most of the wholesales plain view of the street. The

large plates of window glass now so common, were them rapidly coming

into use, and gave to the ground floor offices a distinguished and

prosperous look. The casual wanderer could see as he passed a polished

array of office fixtures, much frosted glass clerks hard at work, and

genteel business men in "nobby" suits and clean linen lounging about or

sitting in groups. Polished brass or nickel signs at the square stone

entrances announced the firm and the nature of the business in rather

neat and reserved terms. The entire metropolitan center possessed a

high and mighty air calculated to overawe and abash the common

applicant, and to make the gulf between poverty and success seem both

wide and deep.

 

Into this important commercial region the timid Carrie went. She

walked east along Van Buren Street through a region of lessening

importance, until it deteriorated into a mass of shanties and coal-

yards, and finally verged upon the river. She walked bravely forward,

led by an honest desire to find employment and delayed at every step by

the interest of the unfolding scene, and a sense of helplessness amid

so much evidence of power and force which she did not understand.

These vast buildings, what were what purposes were they there? She

could have understood the meaning of a little stone-cutter's yard at

Columbia city, carving little pieces of marble for individual use, but

when the yards of some huge stone corporation came into view, filled

with spur tracks and flat cars, transpierced by docks from the river

and traversed overhead by immense trundling cranes of wood and steel,

it lost all significance in her little world.

 

It was so with the vast railroad yards, with the crowded array of

vessels she saw at the river, and the huge factories over the way,

lining the water's edge. Through the open windows she could see the

figures of men and women in working aprons, moving busily about. The

great streets were wall-lined mysterious to her; the vast offices,

strange mazes which concerned far-off individuals of importance. She

could only think of people connected with them as counting money,

dressing magnificently, and riding in carriages. What they dealt in,

how they labored, to what end it all came, she had only the vaguest

conception.

 

It was all wonderful, all vast, all far removed, and she sank in spirit

inwardly and fluttered feebly at the heart as she though of entering

any one of these mighty concerns and asking for something to do

something that she could do anything.

 

 

Chapter III

WE QUESTION OF FORTUNE: FOUR-FIFTY A WEEK

 

Once across the river and into the wholesale district she glanced

about her for some likely door at which to apply. As she contemplated

the wide windows and imposing signs, she became conscious of being

gazed upon and understood for what she was a wage seeker. She had never

done this thing before, and lacked courage. To avoid a certain

indefinable shame she felt at being caught spying about for a position,

she quickened her steps and assumed an air of indifference supposedly

common to one upon an errand. In this way she passed many manufacturing

and wholesale houses without once glancing in. At last, after several

blocks of walking, she felt that this would not do, and began to look

about again though without relaxing her pace. A little way on she saw

a great door which, for some reason, attracted her attention. It was

ornamented by a small brass sign, and seemed to be the entrance to a

vast hive of six or seven floors. " Perhaps," she though, "they may

went some one," and crossed over to enter. When she came within a

score of feet of the desired goal, she saw through the window a young

man in a gray checked suit. That he had anything to do with the

concern, she could not tell but because he happened to be looking in

her direction her weakening heart misgave her and she hurried by, too

overcome with shame to enter. Over the way stood a great six-story

structure, labeled Storm and King, which she viewed with rising hope.

It was a wholesale dry goods concern and employed women. She could see

them moving about now and then upon the upper floors. This place she

decided to enter, no matter what. She crossed over and walked directly

toward the entrance. As she did so, two men came out and paused in the

door. A telegraph messenger in blue dashed past her and up the few

steps that led to the entrance and disappeared. Several pedestrians out

of the hurrying throng which filled the sidewalks passed about her as

she paused, hesitating. She looked helplessly around, and then, seeing

herself observed, retreated. It was too difficult a task. She could

not go past them.

 

So serve a defeat told upon her nerves. Her feet carried her

mechanically forward, every foot of her progress being a satisfactory

portion of a flight which she gladly made. Block after passed by. Upon

street-lamps at the various corners she read names such as Madison,

Monroe, La Salle, Clark, Dearborn, State, and still she went, her feet

beginning to tire upon the broad stone flagging. She was pleased in

part that the streets were bright and clean. The morning sun, shining

down with steadily increasing warmth, made the shady side of the

streets pleasantly cool. She looked at the blue sky overhead with more

realization of its charm than had ever come to her before.

 

Her cowardice began to trouble her in a way. She turned back,

resolving to hunt up Storm and King and enter. On the way she

encountered a great wholesale shoe company, through the broad plate

windows of which she saw an enclosed executive department, hidden by

frosted glass. Without this enclosure, but just within the street

entrance, sat a haired-haired gentleman at a small table, with a large

open ledger before him. She walked by this institution several times

hesitating, but finding herself unobserved, faltered past the screen

door and stood humbly waiting.

 

"Well, young lady," observed the old gentleman, looking at her somewhat

kindly, "what is it you wish?"

 

"I am, that is, do you I mean, do you need any help?" she stammered.

 

"Not just at present," he answered smiling. "Not just at present. Come

in some time next week. Occasionally we need some one."

 

She received the answer in silence and backed awkwardly out. The

pleasant nature of her reception rather astonished her. She had

expected that it would be more difficult, that something cold and harsh

would be said she knew not what. That she had not been put to shame and

made to feel her unfortunate position, seemed remarkable.

 

Somewhat encouraged, she ventured into another large structure. It was

a clothing company, and more people were in evidence well dressed men

of forty and more, surrounded by brass railings.

 

An office boy approached her.

 

"Who is it you wish to see?" he asked.

 

"I want to see the manager," she said.

 

He ran away and spoke to one of a group of three men who were

conferring together. One of these came towards her.

 

"Well?" he said coldly. The greeting drove all courage from her at

once.

 

"Do you need any help?" she stammered.

 

"No," he replied abruptly, and turned upon his heel.

 

She went foolishly out, the office boy deferentially swinging the door

for her, and gladly sank into the obscuring crowd. It was a serve

setback to her recently pleased mental state.

 

Now she walked quite aimlessly for a time, turning here and there,

seeing one great company after another, but finding no courage to

prosecute her single inquiry. High noon came, and with it hunger. She

haunted out unassuming restaurant and entered, but was disturbed to

find the prices were exorbitant for the size of her purse. A bowl of

soup was all that she could afford, and with this quickly eaten, she

went out again. It restored her strength somewhat and made her

moderately bold to pursue the search.

 

In walking a few blocks to fix upon some probable place, she again

encountered the firm of Storm and King, and this time managed to get

in. Some gentlemen were conferring close at hand, but took no notice of

her. She was left standing, gazing nervously upon the floor. When the

limit of her distress had been nearly reached, she was beckoned to by a

man at one of the many desks within the near-by railing.

 

"Who is it you wish to see?" he inquired.

 

"Why, any one, if you please," she answered. " I am looking for

something to do."

 

"Oh, you want to see Mr. McManus," he returned. "Sit down," and he

pointed to a chair against the neighboring wall. He went on leisurely

writing, until after a time a short, stout gentlemen came in from the

street.

 

"Mr. McManus," called the man at the desk, "this young women wants to

see you"

 

The short gentlemen turned about towards Carrie, and she rose and came

forward.

 

"What can I do for you, miss?" he inquired, surveying her curiously.

 

"I want to know if I can get a position," she inquired.

 

"As what?" he asked.

 

"Not as anything in particular," she faltered.

 

"Have you ever had any experience in the wholesale dry goods business?"

he questioned.

 

"No, sir," she replied.

 

"Are you a stenographer or typewriter?"

 

"No, sir."

 

"Well, we haven't anything here," he said. "We employ only experienced

help."

 

She began to step backward toward the door, when something about her

plaintive face attracted him.

 

"Have you ever worked at anything before?" he inquired.

 

"No, sir," she said.

 

"Well, now, it's hardly possible that you would get anything to do in a

wholesale house of this kind. Have you tried the department stores?"

 

She acknowledged that she had not.

 

"Well, if I were you," he said, looking at her rather genially, "I

would try the department stores. They often need young women as

clerks."

 

"Thank you," she said, her whole nature relieved by this spark of

friendly interest.

 

"Thank you," she said, her whole nature relieved by this spark of

friendly interest.

 

"Yes," he said, as she moved toward the door, "you try the department

stores," and off he went.

 

At the time the department store was in its earliest form of successful

operation, and there were not many The first three in the United

States, established about 1884, were in Chicago. Carrie was familiar

with the names of several through the advertisements in the "Daily

News," and now proceeded to seek them. The words of Mr. McManus had

somehow managed to restore her courage, which had fallen low, and she

dared to hope that this new line would offer her something. Sometime

she spent in wandering up and down, thinking to encounter the buildings

by chance, so readily is the mind, bent upon prosecuting a hard but

needful errand, eased by that self-deception which the semblance of

search without the reality gives. At last she inquired of a police

officer, and was directed to proceed "two blocks up," where she would

find "The Fair."

 

The nature of these vast retail combinations, should they ever

permanently disappear, will form an interesting chapter in the

commercial history of our nation. Such a flowering out of a modest

trade principle the world had never witnessed up to that time. They

were along the line of the most effective retail organization, with

hundreds of stores coordinated into one and laid out upon the most

imposing and economic basis. They were handsome, bustling, successful

affairs, with a host of clerks and a swarm of patrons. Carrie passed

along the busy aisles, much affected by the remarkable displays of

trinkets, dress goods, stationery, and jewelry. Each separate counter

was a show place of dazzling interest and attraction.

 

She could not help feeling the chain of each trinket and valuable upon

her personally, and yet she did not stop. There was nothing there

which she could not have used-nothing which she did not long to own.

The dainty slippers and stockings, the delicately frilled skirts and

petticoats, the laces, ribbons, hair-combs, purses, all touched her

with individual desire, and she felt keenly the fact that not any of

these things were in the range of her purchase. She was a work-seeker,

an outcast without employment, one whom the average employee could

tell at a glance was poor and in need of a situation.

 

It must not be thought that any one could have mistaken her for a

nervous, sensitive, high-strung nature, east unduly upon a cold,

calculating, and un-poetic world. Such certainly she was not. But women

are peculiarly sensitive to their adornment.

 

Not only did Carrie feel the drag of desire for all which was new and

pleasing in apparel for women, but she noticed too, with a touch at the

heart, the fine ladies who elbowed and ignored her, brushing past in

utter disregard of her presence, themselves eagerly enlisted in the

materials which the store contained. Carrie was not familiar with the

appearance of her more fortunate sister of the city. Neither had she

before known the nature and appearance of the shop girls with whom she

now compared poorly. They were pretty in the main, some even handsome,

with an air of independence and indifference which added, in the case

of the more favored, a certain piquancy. Their clothes were neat, in

many instances fine, and wherever she encountered the eye of one it was

her individual shortcomings of dress and that shadow of manner which

she though must hang about her and lighted in her heart. She realized

in a dim way how meant for women, and she longed for dress and beauty

with a whole heart.

 

On the second floor were the managerial offices, to which, after some

inquiry, she was now directed. There she found other girls ahead of

her, applicants like herself. but with more of that self-satisfied and

independent air which experience of the city lends; girls who

scrutinized her in a painful manner. After a wait of perhaps three

quarters of an hour, she was called in turn.

 

"Now," said a sharp, quick-mannered Jew, who was sitting at a roll-top

desk near the windows, "have you even worked in any other store?"

 

"No, sir," said Carrie.

 

"Oh, you haven't," he said, eyeing her keenly.

 

"No, sir," she replied.

 

"Well, we prefer young women just now with some experience. I guess we

can't use you."

 

Carrie stood waiting a moment, hardly certain whether the interview had

terminated.

 

"Don't wait!" he exclaimed. "Remember we are very busy here."

 

Carrie began to move quickly to the door.

 

"Hold on," he said, calling her back. "Give me your name and address.

We want girls occasionally."

 

When she had gotten safely into the street, she could scarcely restrain

the tears. It was not so much the particular rebuff which she had just

experienced, but the whole abashing trend of the day. She was tried

and nervous. She abandoned the though of appealing to the other

department stores and now wandered on, feeling a certain safety and

relief in mingling with the crowd.

 

In her indifferent wandering she turned into Jackson Street, nor far

from the river, and was keeping her way along the south side of that

imposing thoroughfare, when a piece of wrapping paper, written on with

marking ink and tacked up on the door, attracted her attention. It

read, "Girls wanted wrappers & stitchers. She hesitated a moment, then

entered.

 

The firm of Speigelheim & Co, makers of boys' caps, occupied one floor

of the building, fifty feet in width and some eighty feet in depth. It

was a place rather dingily lighted, the darkest portions having

incandescent lights, filled with machines and work benches. At the

latter labored quite a company of girls and some men. The former were

drabby-looking creatures, stained in face with oil and dust, clad in

thin, shapeless, cotton dresses and shod with more or less worn shoes.

Many of them had their sleeves rolled up, revealing bare arms, and in

some cases, owing to the heat, their dresses were open at the neck.

They were a fair type of nearly the lowest order of shop-girls-

careless, slouchy, and more or less paid of from confinement. They were

not timid, however; were rich in curiosity, and strong in daring and

slang.

 

Carrie looked about her, very much disturbed and quite sure that she

did not want to work here. Aside from making her uncomfortable by

sidelong glances, no one paid her the least attention. She waited

until the whole department was aware of her presence. Then some word

was sent around, and a foreman, in an apron and shirt sleeves, the

latter rolled up to his shoulders, approached.

 

"Do you want to see me?" he asked.

 

"Do you need any help?" said Carrie, already learning directness of

address.

 

"Do you know how to stitch caps?" he returned.

 

"No, sir," she replied.

 

"Have you ever had any experience at this kind of work?" he inquired.

 

She answered that she had not.

 

"Well," said the foreman, scratching his ear meditatively, "we do need

a stitcher. We like experienced help, though. We've hardly got time to

break people in." He paused and looked away out of the window. "We

might, though, put you at finishing," he concluded reflectively.

 

"How much do you pay a week?" ventured Carrie, emboldened by a certain

softness in the man's manner and his simplicity of address.

 

"Three and a half," he answered.

 

"Oh," she was about to exclaim, but checked herself and allowed her

thoughts to die without expression.

 

"We're not exactly in need of anybody," he went on vaguely, looking

her over as one would a package. "You can come on Monday morning,

though," he added, " and I'll put you to work."

 

"Thank you," said Carrie weakly.

 

"If you come, bring an apron," he added.

 

He walked away and left her standing by the elevator, never so much as

inquiring her name.

 

While the appearance of the shop and the announcement of the price paid

per week operated very much as a blow to Carrie's fancy, the fact that

work of any kind was offered after so rude a round of experience was

gratifying. She could not begin to believe that she would take the

place, modest as her aspirations were. She had been used to better than

that. Her mere experience and the free out-of-door life of the country

caused her nature to revolt at such confinement. Dirt had never been

her share. Her sister's flat was clean. This place was grimy and low,

the girls were careless and hardened. They must be bad-minded and

hearted, she imagined. Still, a place had been offered her. Surely

Chicago was not so bad if she could find one place in one day. She

might find another and better later.

 

Her subsequent experiences were not of a reassuring nature, however.

From all the more pleasing or imposing places she was turned away

abruptly with the most chilling formality. In other where she applied

only the experienced were required. She met with painful rebuffs, the

most trying of which had been in a manufacturing cloak house, where

she had gone to the fourth floor to inquire.

 

"No, no," said foreman, a rough, heavily built individual, who looked

after a miserably lighted workshop, "we don't want any one. Don't come

here."

 

With the wane of the afternoon went her hopes, her courage, and her

strength. She had been astonishingly persistent. So earnest an effort

was well deserving of a better reward. On every hand, to her fatigued

senses, the great business portion grew larger, harder, more stolid in

its indifference. It seemed as if it was all closed to her, that the

struggle was too fierce for her to hope to do anything at all. Men and

women hurried by in long, shifting lines. She felt the flow of the tide

of effort and interest felt her own helplessness without quite

realizing the wisp on the tide that she was. She cast about vainly for

some possible place to apply but found no door which she had the

courage to enter. It would be the same thing all over. The old

humiliation of her plea, rewarded by curt denial. Sick at heart and in

body, she turned to the west, the direction of Minie's flat, which she

had now fixed in mind, and begat that wearisome, baffled retreat makes.

In passing through Fifth Avenue, south towards Van Buren Street, where

she intended to take a car, she passed the door of a large wholesale

shoe house, through the plate-grass window of which she could see a

middle aged gentleman sitting at a small desk. One of those forlorn

impulses which often grow out of a fixed sense of defeat, the last

sprouting of a baffled and uprooted growth through the door and up to

the gentleman, who looked at her weary face with partially awakened

interest.

 

"What is it?" he said.

 

"Can you give me something to do?" said Carrie.

 

"Now, I really don't know," he said kindly. "What kind of work is it

you want-you're not a typewriter, are you?"

 

"Oh, no," answered Carrie.

 

"Well, we only employ book-keepers and typewriters here. You might go

around to the side and inquire upstairs. They did want some help

upstairs a few days ago. Ask for Mr. Brown."

 

She hastened around to the side entrance and was taken up by the

elevator to the fourth floor.

 

"Call Mr. Brown, Willie," said the elevator man to a boy near by.

 

Willie went off and presently returned with the information that Mr.

Brown said she should sit down and that he would be around in a little

while.

 

It was a portion of the stock room which gave no idea of the general

character of the place, and Carrie could form no opinion of the nature

of the work.

 

"So you want something to do," said Mr. Brown, after he inquired

concerning the nature of her errand. " Have you ever been employed in a

shoe factory before?"

 

"No, sir," said Carrie.

 

"What is your name?" he inquired, and being informed, "Well, I don't

know as I have anything for you. Would you work for four and a half a

week?"

 

Carrie was too worn by defeat not to feel that it was considerable. She

had not expected that he would offer her less than six. She acquiesced,

however, and he took her name and address.

 

"Well," he said, finally, "you report here at eight o'clock Monday

morning. I think I can find something for you to do."

 

He left her revived by the possibilities, sure that she had found

something at last. Instantly the blood crept warmly over her body. Her

nervous tension relaxed. She walked out into the busy street and

discovered a new atmosphere. Behold, the throng was moving with a

lightsome step. She noticed that men and women were smiling. Scraps of

conversation and notes of laughter floated to her. The air was light.

People were already pouring out of the buildings, their labor ended for







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