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Updated: August 24, 2024
When she left Wilkins's, exulting, "This is the last time I'll ever go down in one of these rickety elevators," she had, besides her fifteen dollars in salary, one dollar and seventeen cents in the savings-bank. Mamie Magen gave her the opportunity to spend the two weeks installing a modern filing-system at Herzfeld & Cohn's. So Una had a glimpse of the almost beautiful thing business can be.
She knew that any firm taking her at this wage would respect her far more than if she was an easy purchase. Work was slow to come, and she, who had always been so securely above the rank of paupers who submit to the dreadful surgery of charity, became afraid. She went at last to Mamie Magen. Mamie was now the executive secretary of the Hebrew Young Women's Professional Union.
There he had a good view of the river, yet nothing was to be seen of the Hartford and Albatross. Again, on the 24th, Dudley sent Magen with his troop to Hermitage Landing. Pushing on with a few men, Magen got a full view of the reach above Waterloo for five miles, but he too learned nothing of the fleet.
He's kind; and he would learn. We'll go to concerts and things like that in New York dear me, I guess I don't know any too much about art things myself. I don't know why, but even if he isn't interesting, like Mamie Magen, I like him I think!" §
I want love, and that's all there is to it that's crudely all there ever is to it with any woman, no matter how much she pretends to be satisfied with mourning the dead or caring for children, or swatting a job or being religious or anything else. I'm a low-brow; I can't give you the economics of it and the spiritual brotherhood and all that stuff, like Mamie Magen.
The book was The People of the Abyss, by Jack London, which Mamie Magen had given to Una as an introduction to a knowledge of social conditions. Una had planned to absorb it; to learn how the shockingly poor live. Now she read the first four pages to Mr. Schwirtz. After each page he said that he was interested. At the end of the fourth page, when Una stopped for breath, he commented: "Fine writer, that fella London. And they say he's quite a fella; been a sailor and a miner and all kinds of things; ver' intimate friend of mine knows him quite well met him in 'Frisco and he says he's been a sailor and all kinds of things. But he's a socialist. Tell you, I ain't got much time for these socialists. Course I'm kind of a socialist myself lots-a ways, but these here fellas that go around making folks discontented ! Agitators ! Don't suppose it's that way with this London he must be pretty well fixed, and so of course he's prob'ly growing conservative and sensible. But most of these socialists are just a lazy bunch of bums that try and see how much trouble they can stir up. They think that just because they're too lazy to find an opening, that they got the right to take the money away from the fellas that hustle around and make good. Trouble with all these socialist guys is that they don't stop to realize that you can't change human nature. They want to take away all the rewards for initiative and enterprise, just as Sam Cannon was saying. Do you s'pose I'd work my head off putting a proposition through if there wasn't anything in it for me? Then, 'nother thing, about all this submerged tenth these 'People of the Abyss, and all the rest: I don't feel a darn bit sorry for them. They stick in London or New York or wherever they are, and live on charity, and if you offered 'em a good job they wouldn't take it. Why, look here! all through the Middle West the farmers are just looking for men at three dollars a day, and for hired girls, they'd give hired girls three and four dollars a week and a good home. But do all these people go out and get the jobs? Not a bit of it! They'd rather stay home and yelp about socialism and anarchism and Lord knows what-all. 'Nother thing: I never could figger out what all these socialists and I.
When she took the train she was brave with a new blue suit, a new suit-case, a two-pound box of candy, copies of the Saturday Evening Post and the Woman's Home Companion, and Jack London's People of the Abyss, which Mamie Magen had given her. All the way to Pittsfield, all the way out to the farm by stage, she sat still and looked politely at every large detached elm, every cow or barefoot boy.
Quarter after 5. Now for sure and certain it is midnight. Half-past 5. My earrings begin to hurt. You can take off earrings. But FEET— Tessie says she's eaten too many candies; her stomach does her pain. Her feet aren't so hurting now her magen is so bad. I couldn't eat another chocolate for five dollars, but my stomach refused to feel in any way that takes my mind in the least off my feet.
Yet it was Miss Magen whose faith in the purpose of the struggling world inspired Una.
She sat in negligée on the roof of the Home Club and learned that Rose Larsen and Mamie Magen and a dozen others had just gone on vacation. "Lord! it's over for me," she thought. "Fifty more weeks of the job before I can get away again a whole year. Vacation is farther from me now than ever. And the same old grind.... Let's see, I've got to get in touch with the Adine Company for Mr.
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