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Show 1 m1-00 on the bunny Side of .Life JK x I llf O. Jhe.tPo: g n Has to Start Accounts.for His'.Children in the Savings Bank Because f&Accoont Has Reached the Legal (W I i ' sUmRecejymg Teller Who Giyes.the-"Lowly" Jamtor.FiveDolIars.for-Christmas.Finds.HesHimseIf Can Never Eqaaljhe " lift ' fk Furnace Tender's Fortune - . I HW& :;y-ITrTT-gS:gi y :7 J ' Sfi v- A Type. SR BY BERT LEVY. 5Bl JCtepjrJslJt, 1912. by thfl Nir York UcrMd Co. 'Al' ?H ricbu rcserred.l Jfl New Yohk. Saturday. ' IVE POOR bfdraggltd woman, out at Bv A elbows, out at hceU, hurried along Hftf an cast s'c street the other day. IB She was beat, evidently, on eorac m sad mission, for her face botok- H ened a nervous fear too intense "Jp ft for words. ' 1 She clasped in her hands, beneath her (K tattered shawl" a some thins. There was j W no knowing what it was. but judging by II her actions it caused her great anxiety. W, At ft crowded'' crossing tho occupant ofi w W in elegant automobile (aN lady clad in SE.V magnificent furs) beckoned the hurrying 1 woman to her car and, banding her a fire J dollar bill, said pityingly: a A "Here, ray poor woman, is something I! for you." 1 "Can you bee It?"' murmured the po- ?J X- liceman doing duty at the crossing. "That l x old woman," pointing over his shoulder I it the disappearing derelict, "has sot 2 K money in every savings bank in New m York and Brooklyn. Why, I've seen-hcr IS 5 hurrying to the bank with bcr books and Is. money under her shawl Monday after Monday for years. She is the ovner of ' real estate." All this set mc thinking about the pco- jj " pic who go to sivings banks depositors i and others. I talked for hours with a m I ! man in uniform who lias been "keeping : 'em in line" at tic toller's -window for fl , I more than twenty years. I I "TeB mc something about all these 0 ! ; poor people," I a ked. 5l "Mnsh," lie answered. "If I lad the I Si ; coin stowed away like sonic of these guys I j with the long and dirty whiskers I tl tt wouldn't have to stand hero for hours SlJ a keeping 'em in line. Souio of 'em can't I rf read or write, some of 'em never wash fl j themselves, and how they keep on bring- ft $? ae ia tllc Jousl1 f'" icy rcacn tllc 'nt Ji m nn start a5a'n n ticlr wife's or kid's A X csmo has got rae heat. I've seen some I of 'cm bring in their first deposit a few tfluf oors After their landing nt Ellis Island. Jjll I have to show them where to put a SJnt cro&s because they can't write their fl names, and for months afterward they J5& coa:e here more regularly than they go A K to chapel or synagogue." If the New Yorker would only spend i few hours a day studying the types that patronize the savings banks he would j be struck with the familiar faces that come and go. "Who is that Italian standing in the long lino of depositors j waiting to .each the teller's -ivindow? Surely I hare seen that face before," the Xcw Yorker will say to himself. The girl at his aide gives the clew. The servile look in his upturned eyes, born of looking up at the apartment hon&c windows for the shower of pennies as he grinds the organ; the pathetic look-on look-on her face, become permanent through looking half starved, to the airs of "La BohOmc," are Mill in evidence as they stand waiting to deposit a substantial sum as a result of their week's begging. Thut cripple, richer than you or I, who commands our abject sympathy aa he sits on the cold pavement belling pencils, is a frequent depositor. The Pencil Peddler. "Ho gets his money," siid the uniformed uni-formed attendant, "not from the pencils he sells, but from the pencils that the pityin? crowd tvIII not lake after paying for them. lie picks out a choice location, in tho vicinity of a theatre (it's marvellous marvel-lous how ho picks a show that's a hit) and starts whining when the show is out. Now, whoever heard of hurrying ladies and gentlemen in full evening dress requiring re-quiring lead pencils? Tho woman, tender hearted, as usual, says, 'Oh, dearie, look at that poor cripple.' "lie buys a couple, sometimes half a. dozen pencils, pays for thein and ostentatiously osten-tatiously hands them back. Gee! Every Lime that guy comes here with his bank book it makes mc wish I was a leg or arm short." A story was printed in the newspapers about a chiropodist who preferred begging beg-ging to paiing corn-i. lie was a happy near-cripple, limping r'.ong in rags and whining for pennies. His wife, who out of shame had him arrested, testified in court that the cripple had $1,500 In the Bowery Savings Bank, ail of which was given him by people who were touched in more senses than one by his seeming distress. dis-tress. What has all this to do with the sunny aide of life? It is comforting and joyful to know that our wealthy poor nre always if Ss ' if V....... WB& " K ffHo Immigrants. ' ," J? If : ' I fifc I """ imWmmmmSmmmmammWmmWm j with us and well taken care of. It makes our lives sunnier to learn that the poor pedlcr who so often tell3 us a ead talc may sometimes bo found eating choice viands at his favorite Grand street cafS and that the poor little sad faced Italian girl who wc-irily pushes the organ and Jingles the tambourine for her lazy father does her marketing in Mulberry Bend dressed in nice sweet clothes and many smiles. It helps us all considerably to know that the bhahby, ill looking musicians "who infest in-fest our alloys nnd yards may be found standing in lino waiting for their passbooks pass-books at our savings banks. Doesn't it make our lives sunnier when wc think that the one legged mau at the street corner has a substantial sum to his credit to guard against the day when you and I will not respond to his yalhctlc appeals? Above all, it's grand to rcalirc that the people of New York, and the people of any largo American city, pay out through I their soft heart hundreds of thousands of dollars a year to the wealthy poor, and the poor, in lieu of purchasing new hats, clothes, food and baths, deposit it cafcly in the bankf. The Rich Poor. And then the poor. Consider the sunshine sun-shine of their lives. They know nothing of automobiles nnd attendant worries. They don't believe in germs. They don't hate to dress. They are never kept waiting wait-ing at the face massa;e and manicure parlors. They "touch," but arc "touched" not. They neer hac to tip. Shabby clothes cover a multitude of money, the, existence of which no one suspects; hence when there is a collection in aid of some big calamity the wealthy poor go scot free. I There used to be a beggar stationed at one of the uptown subvay hoods. The policeman on the beat knew him well; in fact, the policeman dined at his house once or twice before he knew his host was a professional beggar. The man at the subway played his part so well that he pt-tnblished a regular clientele among the hundreds of business and professional men who passed his "staud." One day he determined to imest lus savings in Phila- dclphia and, if you please, he sold his "stand" to a fellow countryman. A few days after his departure his sue- I1 cessor complained that he had been robbed, for his "takings" at the subway bood were $G.7.1 less a dny than he was led tc believe. Beneath tho shabby exterior of tho average poor depositor there is a great deal of contentment, a contentment and peace that many of our wealthy people peo-ple would envy. Rockefeller, Morgan, Vanctcrbilt and others of that ilk never slept so eoundly : as 3ome of our poor depositors do as they patiently wait for their passbooks What contrasts In humanity occupy tho wooden henchea! White-haired old men who have been coming to the bank for close on to twenty years. Some of them never knew what it was to put a dime away till they reached this land, and, finding tho paternal care of Uncle Sa-a a reality nnd a blessing, they have gone on In confidence till they have won an independence. in-dependence. Some of them have long ago reached the depositor's limit of 3,000, but have kept on in their children's nnd their grandchildren'3 namen. One old fellow has been wheeling a baby carriage to the bank once a week-He week-He Brings His Warehouse With Him. for months now. He is giving his great-grnuddangWter great-grnuddangWter a start in life. The old fellow has a little store, near a "big factory fac-tory employing more than four thousand persons. He looked the type of Individual whom you would hand a penny to in the -" He Saves for His Grandchild. - ; street and think you were doing a charity. ,; To sit and scan tho faces of the ivait- ing people at a savings bank is like turning turn-ing over the pages in nn interesting book. Side by side sit the Bowery tough, the city chap, professors, musicians, actors and, in fact, types from all parts of the world. Of course it is not to be supposed I ' 1 that they all look shabby and poor. Yon f will be surprised to find many of your g friends and acquaintances, people in good positions, waiting on the lino in the downtown down-town savings hanks. What a happy 3 hunting ground for the artist and play-i play-i wright! Last week I discovered the very p counterpart of David Warficld's old j music mas.cr on one of the benches at the Boww-y Bank. ' A dignified aged man in a velvet coat ' with flowing "Windsor tic, ho talked to i me 'of Magdehurg, his rative city, and . there was grief in his voice as he spoke . of tho day when be would have saved enough to go home where veal music wa6 understood ..nd appreciated. Half in Ger- man and half in broken English he cx-I cx-I pressed his horror of 'Vat yon call mgs- Umes." ! He complained that all they wanted . him to play at the caffi was "Everybody vas doing do same 'ting." I had a hard job to win the old fellow's confidence, for he had caught mo trying to skotch him. "Americans make fun of everybody in de paper," he said, and he felt hurt to think that he might be caricatured. Presently Pres-ently his name was called and he Lidc mc goodby in delightful German and promised that if I should ever visit Magdeburg Mag-deburg he would alow me the art galleries gal-leries and also take me to hear a symphony sym-phony orchestra such as I could never hear in New York. I asked him when that would he, and he replied that if all goes well in another year ho would be in the Fatherland. He gave mc his last visiting card, a soiled piece of pasteboard, with his name and the address of one of the cast 6ide'a poorest poor-est cafes. Diplomatic Eank Officials. The attendant pointed out to me the types who started at tho pushcart and who arc now living uptown. In place of the flowing heard and fur cap, the sheital and shawl, an Uic frock coat, ailk hat and black satin dress, and it was amusing to watch the jollying which tho "people who have got on" receive at the hands of the "stationary" depositors. The enre of the ofllcials in most savings sav-ings banks is remarkable. Their efforts to deal patiently with the conglomerated maps of humanity whom they arc brought in daily contact with is to be admired. The questions they are asked, tho prob- I lems they have to solve and the fear they have to combat would try the patience of saints. It is interesting to watch a haunted looking creature, a new arrival, making his first deposit Fresh I from a land where he has been a victim of riot and persecution, secret societies and other evils, it is some time before ho can overcome his fear of tho man in a uniform. It tries the patience of the olticial.s to make him take his place in the line and to eventually leave his money. Clnvping his passbook in nervous fingers, he will study It on the premises and on the street in the vicinity of the bank for fiome tunc before he makes up his mind to leave the neighborhood. He asks Some Biing Their Gossip, Groceries and Tin Pans as Well as Their, H Deposits. I H hundreds of questions of the kindly attendants, who seem to be tratued not to lose their tempers, though, to put it in the words of one of them, "Gee, It makes me 301c when a guy with four dollars dol-lars seventy-fhc on deposit tusks me ten times if the hank is all right. They nctcr 6cem comfortable till I tell them that the bank has thirty billion of unclaimed un-claimed dollars tlown in the basement and I offer to show it to them any Sunday Sun-day morning they like to come round." It speaks well for tho honor of bank officials that they will not under any circumstances betray the confidences of their customers. Chatting with a prominent promi-nent receiving clerk, he remarked to mc: "Of course our business with people is sacred, but you'd be surprised at the amounts to the credit of several of those men sitting on that form." lie pointed tQ four or five weary, shabby individuals, for whom, if they wero put up at auction, I would havo offered $20. "In my journeys jour-neys throughout the city," he continued, "I have come across professional beggars, beg-gars, confidence men, crooks, all of whom I see at my window in the bank. They do not know mc, but I know them. Waiters whom I tip after my lunch, bellboys, bell-boys, coatroom men, lots of them, are at my desk every week. Many a waiter and bellboy has more to his credit than I ever hope to possess." Humorous Side of It. The receiving clerk told mo an interesting interest-ing story about a German maid who worked for a week or two in his home. "The girl told my wife a sad tale of the poverty and want of her poor old parents in Germany. She needed an advance ad-vance and my wife gave it to her. Next day she lianded tho wife's money to mc at the bank. Two weeks afterward my wife missed $3o from a drawer in tho bedroom. bed-room. Wc accused tho girl. She sobbed and protested innocence, but next day she banked the three tens and a five with mc. "Oh, yes, life's all comedy to a savings bank olhcial 'in tho know.' Our baker ' H complains of bad times and, tells us In H confidence that baking doesn't pay and H . that he is losing money every week. Wo H fail to properly syniiutbizo when we H know that he and his children have 3,000 H each lying nice and snug In our bank. H The grocer wants to raise us half a cent a ' M pound for this nnd three cents a pound lor that, "bad times,' 'truata aro ruining I H him,' 'sickness in the family.' We know ' H better, but we have to grin and bear it." H "Of course," he continued, "wo clerka H are not supposed to take tho bank's buai- H ucss into our private lives. If tvc did, I'd ' H kick our janitor. Every Christmas he sends up to all the apartments a neat card asking us, in sentimental c-ae, to remem- M her the "lowly one' who tends the fires, the garbage and the ice and all that sort M of thing. That 'lowly one' has 2,G00 in J our institution, and x know he islts oth- M ers, and I, out of my measly salary, have M got to give him a Christmas tip." mM In one bank I met an interesting of- M ficial who attended mostly to tho with- drawn Is. H "If jou want copy," ho said, "sit be- M hind this window for a few hours and iou'H get more laughs than at a musical H comedy. When a full grown man asks ' M you how much he ought to draw out to M get married on, or a girl confides in you that she is taking out a few dollars for a course of beauty treatments, well, you have just got to bite the end of the pen IH to &top yourself from giggling outright IH It's funny people will talk to you 'in con- IH fidence,' and before you can hand them the dollars they are after they unravel M the story of their lives. If you aro in a H bank long enough you'll realize that most men and women aro children at henrt M They want to talk to-and confide in some.' M one, especially about money matters." M Wc read and hear a lot nowadayn about t the country going to ruin. The dastardly j trusts, the grasping rich, the wicked graft M is the cry of the professional politician . H with an tixo to grind. The savings bank H account of our wealthy poo? is tho snnny M side of our national life. H kfm 1JJL' bw 4 ' I , - v,- 's Tfrom Housework to Bank, j s l fl H |
