STRAWBERRY PICKERS OF MARYLAND.

By HARRY M. BREMER.

To see the long train of wagons laden with people passing through the streets of South Baltimore and out over the Curtis Bay Bridge, one would think thousands of the people of the city had adopted the "back to the land" slogan. A remarkable sight, this long line of farm wagons reaching back block after block into the heart of the Polish section-feather beds, wooden chests, baby carriages, and crated chickens! On top the children hold a precarious position.

These people are going out to get a living from the land-not by plowing and planting, however, but by picking berries and peas. This is agricultural work, but it bears no relation to the good old farm work responsible for so many of our prominent men. Rather should it be called factory work without factory walls, for here is the piece-work system with its long hours and speeding-up at a single monotonous task which uses only a limited set of muscles.

For the six or eight weeks that the season lasts, the people will live in buildings provided by the farmer. These are a heterogeneous lot ranging from a two-story, barn-like structure, to a long one-story shanty, and in some cases an old barn. One would think they were designed to hold cattle, so little do they look like structures for human beings. And indeed, "the people dey sind treat' just like cattle," for in these structures absolutely no provision is made for family life. No partitions divide the space into compartments so that one family may be screened from another, but each family enjoys the degree of privacy provided by ten-inch boards set up on their sides on the floor. These boards merely mark off family divisions and serve to keep the straw and bedding of one section from spreading over into the next.

Twenty-eight farms were visited in a brief investigation last spring. On none of these was provision for family privacy made. In one or two cases only one family was found occupying a single room, but this was not from any desire of the farmer to meet the

lowest possible standard of decency, but simply because only about half of the usual number of pickers had been taken out, owing to the poor crops. On one farm the farmer pointed with pride to his pickers' shanty, and claimed it was the best on all the farms. He boasted that in its construction he had paid especial care to ventilation and the general well-being of the pickers. What I saw was a two-story building I would have taken for a barn, with four windows and two doors on the first floor, and two windows and one door on the second. The building contained but a single large room on each floor, and showed absolutely no provision for comfort or privacy. In this, he housed his pickers, men, women and children, without regard to age, sex, or relationship. And as a sort of explanation of such meagre provision, he went on to expatiate on the low standard of morals and the promiscuous living he thought characterized the lives of the people when in the city. I willingly concede that this was, as he said, the best shanty on the twenty-eight farms, but "best" only by reason of its newness. It differed from the worst in no essential feature, save that it was less ancient.

This farmer justified his type of shanty by his conception of the city life of the people. "In the city," said he, "they live like cattle. Go into any house on Bond Street and you'll find them crowded in worse than they are here." The other farmers, I found, held the same mistaken idea. This is a base libel on these people. They do not live in a promiscuous manner in the city. Preceding the investigation of the farms nearly four hundred families were visited in their homes. In not one instance was more than one family living together and most families had three or four rooms. For the most part these homes were clean and showed care. Only occasionally was a dirty, uncared-for home found. Poverty does not necessarily mean dirt and low standards of living.

The attitude of the people towards these unseemly quarters is well shown in their replies when asked about the shanties they had to live in. "Ach, we live like pigs out there. They crowd us in like cattle all in a row." But when speaking of the shanties in the tomato country where each family had its own room, "Fine! fine!" they joyfully exclaimed. A visiting nurse who knows the homes of the Polish people in Baltimore has the following to say as to the conditions and the attitude of the people.

"The attitude of the workers towards their living conditions is significant. As district nurses we are familiar with these people in town, knowing them for the most part as decent and self-respecting families, although of course many of them are extremely poor. They are attracted to the strawberry fields by the opportunities of making money, but are acutely conscious of their degrading living conditions. The women and young girls are particularly sensitive about it. One woman said to us, 'It was my last chance; I had to come.' Another said, 'This is my first and last time here I'll never come again.' And another said, 'We live like hogs.' We had the greatest difficulty in getting a picture of the interior of this shack. The women were ashamed to have it taken, and one Polish woman planted herself in the doorway and defiantly refused to let us enter with the camera. It was only after a great deal of coaxing and persuasion that we finally succeeded. It was the same on the other farms—the women allowed us to look at their quarters only after constant urging, and amidst many apologies, but flatly refused to let them be photographed.”

In the light of this evidence what becomes of the contention of the growers that the people do not know what decent living conditions are? One is driven to the conclusion that it springs from ignorance and self-interest.

"Children make the best pickers," according to one of the farmers. "They pick faster." The numbers of children on the field show how current this idea is. I found children as young as six years picking. Such young children may not pick regularly, but boys and girls of eight to ten are part of the regular force, and work as steadily as the parents. Sometimes the children do all the carrying for the family. For a girl of ten years to carry a tray of ten boxes weighing twelve to fifteen pounds is no uncommon thing. And when she carries it farther than the distance of a city block, and does it again and again, the strain becomes very great. It is too severe for the delicate organism of a growing child. Stooped shoulders and distorted features are frequent evidence of this.

In the visits to the homes of the people in Baltimore, little definite information could be gained as to the extent of child labor. The Maryland Bureau of Statistics and Information had declared that no child under twelve years should be permitted to work on the farms and that all over twelve must secure vacation permits. This

made the parents very wary about telling whether their children. worked or not. Practically all would admit that their children over twelve worked regularly, but usually denied that their children under that did. Regarding the younger ones, however, some made statements like this. "Girls and boys eight years old worked, and started when their parents did." "Children of seven and eight started at 4 A. M. and worked." "Children of eight years picked part of the time." "My little girl (seven years old) worked the same time the big folks did so did other small children." "Many little ones were working as hard as grown-ups.' These point quite definitely to a wholesale use of children as pickers. If anything can be said in favor of this outdoor work it is the fact that it is in the fresh air. But the cramped positions the work demands make deep breathing impossible and so nullify whatever good might come from it.

The benefits of play in the open air are constantly dilated on by defenders of this system. But our experience has been that these children do not play; they work. Three considerations favor this. The row-bosses endeavor to get families with several children. Parents last year refused to go out if the Maryland Bureau of Statistics and Information would not permit children under twelve years of age to work, for they could not make enough money without the help of their children. Farmers furnish transportation for all and feel, therefore, that they have a right to demand such work of children. The injustice to the child in thus depriving him of his right to play, and turning that into a demand for work, is one of the worst evils of this form of labor.

Another evil of this agricultural work is that it deprives the children of part of their schooling and furnishes no mental activity in exchange. The distinction between this work and the usual farm work to which so many men attribute their start in life is just here. The ordinary farmer's boy does all kinds of jobs about the farm. His work far from being dull and monotonous may be full of variations calling for mental reactions. This in itself is an education for him. In addition, the school course is adjusted to his needs, and he is not subjected to the humiliating necessity of losing his chance of promotion by leaving school before the rest of his class. But the berry picker goes out to pick berries or peas all day. For him it is pick, pick, pick-with no change in the occupa

tion and no variation in its monotony. He learns nothing from his work but the color of the berries, and occasionally, mayhap, their flavor. His school is not adapted to his needs. If he cannot remain

in school till the end of the term, the loss is his. Such children loose from four to six weeks of schooling every Spring. Their classes go on to the completion of the term's work, while they miss all this and with it their chance of promotion.

From three of the public schools of Baltimore the absences of children due to leaving for work on the strawberry farms were obtained. Of eighty-two children forty-six lost between forty and sixty sessions (half days) or four to six weeks; twenty-three lost between sixty and eighty sessions, or six to eight weeks; and two lost between eighty and one hundred sessions, almost half the Spring

The Polish parochial schools suffer much more heavily in point of numbers. Two of the largest schools are practically emptied by the exodus to the strawberry farms. Out of an enrollment of over eight hundred in each only a bare one hundred are left to finish the term. The disastrous effect on the work of the schools can readily be imagined.

Of far more serious moment is the handicap to the boys and girls themselves. It works out that the children in the Polish schools have a school year of practically six months. The Sister Superior of one said that it takes these children two years to complete one grade. The following comments show the experience of the public school teachers. "Eleven children have been retarded either one or two years." "All of them, with one exception, are far below the class in their studies."

Children eight to fourteen years residing in Baltimore are by law required to attend school during the entire period of each year the public schools are in session. These schools are open practically ten months, from the second week of September to the end of June. Work on the strawberry farms makes this law a dead letter.

Strawberry picking is but one of many kinds of agricultural work. In common with other forms of child labor, this work interferes with the intellectual growth of children, by robbing them of a large part of their schooling. It retards physical development by confining them at tasks far beyond their strength when they should be playing and laying up a surplus for manhood and