Welch Mining Co., Welch, W. Va. Boy running trip rope at tipple. Overgrown, but looked 13 years old. Works 10 hours a day
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Noon Hour in a Furniture Factory, Indianapolis, Aug., 1908. Wit., E. N. Clopper.
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American child labor at its worst began at the dawn of the Second Industrial Revolution. As immigrants flooded into the country, they were quickly recognized as hard workers and given jobs. Bosses soon realized that children were cheaper labor, and parents, in need of additional income, sent their kids into mines, factories, and farms. The consequences would have a profound impact on society and economy. Children, injured on the job, would have to drop out of the workforce, never making adult wages. Unable to get an education, they could never rise out of the circle of poverty. Poor children in America no longer had the opportunity to have a childhood or to chase the American dream.
"There is not a messenger boy of any experience who does not know more about the underworld than the average citizen, because one very common phase of messenger work is the serving of prostitutes by carrying messages, running errands, and procuring dope."-The Ogden Standard
Interview with Alice P. Evitt, Child Laborer during early 1900s
JIM LELOUDIS:It must have been some place in there with all those belts flying. Did you ever feel it was a dangerous place?
ALICE P. EVITT:Sometimes you had to watch them belts runnin' up there. If they happened to break and hit you, they'd knock you down. They'd hit you so hard they'd kill you, wouldn't they? I never knowed them to hit one, but I imagine it would. It was just a flyin'. It'd break and hit you, it'd slap you so hard, I don't guess you'd ever remember anymore.
JIM LELOUDIS:Did you ever see one break?
ALICE P. EVITT:Yes, I've had them break on my work. Had them break overhead and on my speeders. All out here, they low and run under. They didn't come over your head. But the other places, they all go over your head. I's always scared of them belts breakin' and a-hittin' you.
ALICE P. EVITT:Back then, the boss man would get on you for nothing. Out to Highland Park, they was awful bad about that. My daddy was about to get in trouble-'bout to whoop one of them bosses about gettin' on my sister so much. He'd get on her she'd go to the bathroom. He'd holler and go on at her that way, and he didn't allow men to do like that. We quit then. I wasn't workin'. They quit. He was about to get in trouble. He was about to whoop him, or try to whoop him. They'd do all them spinners that way. After I went to work in there, they knowed my daddy, they never did holler at me or nothing like that. But they would then when it was just. . . . They'd be right mad at them, hollerin' at them. Back then, the bosses, they just thought they could boss you around and make you do as they say do. They would them that would listen to them, but we never did listen to them, cause my daddy told us not to. So, he knowed we wasn't goin' to do nothin' wrong, but he wanted us to do our work right. They was just mean to people back them days. I never had them be mean to me that way. When I wanted off and couldn't get off, that wasn't bein' mean, they just needed me.
JIM LELOUDIS:What type of things would they fuss at you about?
ALICE P. EVITT:I don't know what they would do. Maybe your work'd be runnin' bad and you couldn't keep it up good. You'd be workin' as hard as you could, and it would get all messed up. Some rollers choked up on it and you couldn't help yourself. It wasn't your fault, and they'd just raise cane with you about it. People doin' all they could do, that's all they could do. They thought they could do more than they could do. They'd get on 'em and holler at them. You could hear them all over the plant-much fussin's that made-you could hear them holler at people. I never had one to holler at me like that. I guess they would of, but I never did. But I sure did hear 'em holler at t'other people. Of course, they don't do that now, but they did then.
JIM LELOUDIS:Did they have real strict rules? You said they tried to run your sister out of the rest room.
ALICE P. EVITT:A lot of them go in there and they'd talk. Their work'd be goin' bad. They'd go to the door and holler at 'em make 'em come out of there. That's all I knowed they'd do because they never did holler at me. But I heard my sister and them tell about 'em hollerin' at them. I heared 'em holler at other people.
Courtesy at University of North Carolina Southern History Program.
Oral History Interview with Alice P. Evitt, July 18, 1979. Interview H-0162. Southern Oral History Program Collection (#4007) in the Southern Oral History Program Collection, Southern Historical Collection, Wilson Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.
ALICE P. EVITT:Sometimes you had to watch them belts runnin' up there. If they happened to break and hit you, they'd knock you down. They'd hit you so hard they'd kill you, wouldn't they? I never knowed them to hit one, but I imagine it would. It was just a flyin'. It'd break and hit you, it'd slap you so hard, I don't guess you'd ever remember anymore.
JIM LELOUDIS:Did you ever see one break?
ALICE P. EVITT:Yes, I've had them break on my work. Had them break overhead and on my speeders. All out here, they low and run under. They didn't come over your head. But the other places, they all go over your head. I's always scared of them belts breakin' and a-hittin' you.
ALICE P. EVITT:Back then, the boss man would get on you for nothing. Out to Highland Park, they was awful bad about that. My daddy was about to get in trouble-'bout to whoop one of them bosses about gettin' on my sister so much. He'd get on her she'd go to the bathroom. He'd holler and go on at her that way, and he didn't allow men to do like that. We quit then. I wasn't workin'. They quit. He was about to get in trouble. He was about to whoop him, or try to whoop him. They'd do all them spinners that way. After I went to work in there, they knowed my daddy, they never did holler at me or nothing like that. But they would then when it was just. . . . They'd be right mad at them, hollerin' at them. Back then, the bosses, they just thought they could boss you around and make you do as they say do. They would them that would listen to them, but we never did listen to them, cause my daddy told us not to. So, he knowed we wasn't goin' to do nothin' wrong, but he wanted us to do our work right. They was just mean to people back them days. I never had them be mean to me that way. When I wanted off and couldn't get off, that wasn't bein' mean, they just needed me.
JIM LELOUDIS:What type of things would they fuss at you about?
ALICE P. EVITT:I don't know what they would do. Maybe your work'd be runnin' bad and you couldn't keep it up good. You'd be workin' as hard as you could, and it would get all messed up. Some rollers choked up on it and you couldn't help yourself. It wasn't your fault, and they'd just raise cane with you about it. People doin' all they could do, that's all they could do. They thought they could do more than they could do. They'd get on 'em and holler at them. You could hear them all over the plant-much fussin's that made-you could hear them holler at people. I never had one to holler at me like that. I guess they would of, but I never did. But I sure did hear 'em holler at t'other people. Of course, they don't do that now, but they did then.
JIM LELOUDIS:Did they have real strict rules? You said they tried to run your sister out of the rest room.
ALICE P. EVITT:A lot of them go in there and they'd talk. Their work'd be goin' bad. They'd go to the door and holler at 'em make 'em come out of there. That's all I knowed they'd do because they never did holler at me. But I heard my sister and them tell about 'em hollerin' at them. I heared 'em holler at other people.
Courtesy at University of North Carolina Southern History Program.
Oral History Interview with Alice P. Evitt, July 18, 1979. Interview H-0162. Southern Oral History Program Collection (#4007) in the Southern Oral History Program Collection, Southern Historical Collection, Wilson Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.