Maggie_ A Girl Of The Streets And Other Writings About New York Part 20

Bloodthirsty was particularly eloquent when drunk, and in the wildness of a spree he would rave so graphically about gore, that even the habituated wool of old timers would stand straight. Bloodthirsty meant most of it, too. That is why his orations were impressive. His remarks were usually followed by the wide lightning sweep of his razor. None cared to exchange epithets with Bloodthirsty. A man in a boiler iron suit would walk down to City Hall and look at the clock before he would ask the time of day from single minded and ingenuous Bloodthirsty.

No Toe Charley.

After Bloodthirsty, in combative importance, came No Toe Charley Singularly enough Charley was called No Toe solely because he did not have a toe to his feet. Charley was a small negro and his manner of amus.e.m.e.nt was not Bloodthirsty's simple ways. As befitting a smaller man, Charley was more wise, more sly, more roundabout than the other man. The path of his crimes was like a corkscrew, in architecture, and his method led him to make many tunnels. With all his cleverness, however, No Toe was finally induced to pay a visit to the gentlemen in the grim gray building up the river.

Black-Cat was another famous bandit who made the Lane his home. Black-Cat is dead. It is within some months that Jube Tyler has been sent to prison, and after mentioning the recent disappearance of Old Man Spriggs, it may be said that the Lane is now dest.i.tute of the men who once crowned it with a glory of crime. It is hardly essential to mention Guinea Johnson. Guinea is not a great figure. Guinea is just an ordinary little crook. Sometimes Guinea pays a visit to his friends, the other little crooks who make homes in the Lane, but he himself does not live there, and with him out of it, there is now no one whose industry in unlawfulness has yet earned him the dignity of a nickname. Indeed, it is difficult to find people now who remember the old gorgeous days, although it is but two years since the Lane shone with sin like a new headlight. But after a search the reporter found three.

Mammy Ross is one of the last relics of the days of slaughter still living there. Her weird history also reaches back to the blossoming of the first members of the Whyobn gang in the old Sixth Ward, and her mind is stored with b.l.o.o.d.y memories. She at one time kept a sailor's boarding house near the Tombs Prison, gang in the old Sixth Ward, and her mind is stored with b.l.o.o.d.y memories. She at one time kept a sailor's boarding house near the Tombs Prison,bo and accounts of all the festive crimes of that neighborhood in ancient years roll easily from her tongue. They killed a sailor man every day, and the pedestrians went about the streets wearing stoves for fear of the handy knives. At the present day the route to Mammy's home is up a flight of grimy stairs that is pasted on the outside of an old and tottering frame house. Then there is a hall blacker than a wolf 's throat, and this hall leads to a little kitchen where Mammy usually sits groaning by the fire. She is, of course, very old, and she is also very fat. She seems always to be in great pain. She says she is suffering from "de very las' dregs of de yaller fever." and accounts of all the festive crimes of that neighborhood in ancient years roll easily from her tongue. They killed a sailor man every day, and the pedestrians went about the streets wearing stoves for fear of the handy knives. At the present day the route to Mammy's home is up a flight of grimy stairs that is pasted on the outside of an old and tottering frame house. Then there is a hall blacker than a wolf 's throat, and this hall leads to a little kitchen where Mammy usually sits groaning by the fire. She is, of course, very old, and she is also very fat. She seems always to be in great pain. She says she is suffering from "de very las' dregs of de yaller fever."

A Picture of Suffering.

During the first part of a reporter's recent visit old Mammy seemed most dolefully oppressed by her various diseases. Her great body shook and her teeth clicked spasmodically during her long and painful respirations. From time to time she reached her trembling hand and drew a shawl closer about her shoulders. She presented as true a picture of a person undergoing steady, unchangeable, chronic pain as a patent medicine firm could wish to discover for miraculous purposes. She breathed like a fish thrown out on the bank, and her old head continually quivered in the nervous tremors of the extremely aged and debilitated person. Meanwhile her daughter hung over the stove and placidly cooked sausages.

Appeals were made to the old woman's memory. Various personages who had been sublime figures of crime in the long-gone days were mentioned to her, and presently her eyes began to brighten. Her head no longer quivered. She seemed to lose for a period her sense of pain in the gentle excitement caused by the invocation of the spirits of her memory.

It appears that she had had a historic quarrel with Apple Mag. She first recited the prowess of Apple Mag; how this emphatic lady used to argue with paving stones, carving knives and bricks. Then she told of the quarrel; what Mag said; what she said; what Mag said; what she said: It seems that they cited each other as spectacles of sin and corruption in more fully explanatory terms than are commonly known to be possible. But it was one of Mammy's most gorgeous recollections, and, as she told it, a smile widened over her face.

Finally she explained her celebrated retort to one of the most ill.u.s.trious thugs that had blessed the city in bygone days. "Ah says to 'im, Ah says: 'You-you'll die in yer boots like Gallopin' Thompson-dat's what you'll do.' [Slug missing from newsprint here.] one chile an' he ain't nuthin' but er cripple, but le'me tel' you, man, dat boy'll live t' pick de feathers f 'm de goose dat'll eat de gra.s.s dat grows over your grave, man! Dat's what I tol' 'm. But-lan's sake-how I know dat in less'n three day, dat man be lying in de gutter wif a knife stickin' out'n his back. Lawd, no, I sholy never s'pected nothing like dat."

Memories of the Past.

These reminiscences, at once maimed and reconstructed, have been treasured by old Mammy as carefully, as tenderly, as if they were the various little tokens of an early love. She applies the same back-handed sentiment to them, and, as she sits groaning by the fire, it is plainly to be seen that there is only one food for her ancient brain, and that is the recollection of the beautiful fights and murders of the past.

On the other side of the Lane, but near Mammy's house, Pop Babc.o.c.k keeps a restaurant. Pop says it is a restaurant, and so it must be one, but you could pa.s.s there ninety times each day and never know that you were pa.s.sing a restaurant. There is one obscure little window in the bas.e.m.e.nt and if you went close and peered in, you might, after a time, be able to make out a small, dusty sign, lying amid jars on a shelf. This sign reads: "Oysters in every style." If you are of a gambling turn of mind, you will probably stand out in the street and bet yourself black in the face that there isn't an oyster within a hundred yards. But Pop Babc.o.c.k made that sign and Pop Babc.o.c.k could not tell an untruth. Pop is a model of all the virtues which an inventive fate has made for us. He says so.

As far as goes the management of Pop's restaurant, it differs from Sherry's. In the first place the door is always kept locked. The ward-men bp bp of the Fifteenth Precinct have a way of prowling through the restaurant almost every night, and Pop keeps the door locked in order to keep out the objectionable people that cause the wardmen's visits. He says so. The cooking stove is located in the main room of the restaurant, and it is placed in such a strategic manner that it occupies about all the s.p.a.ce that is not already occupied by a table, a bench and two chairs. The table will, on a pinch, furnish room for the plates of two people if they are willing to crowd. Pop says he is the best cook in the world. of the Fifteenth Precinct have a way of prowling through the restaurant almost every night, and Pop keeps the door locked in order to keep out the objectionable people that cause the wardmen's visits. He says so. The cooking stove is located in the main room of the restaurant, and it is placed in such a strategic manner that it occupies about all the s.p.a.ce that is not already occupied by a table, a bench and two chairs. The table will, on a pinch, furnish room for the plates of two people if they are willing to crowd. Pop says he is the best cook in the world.

"Pop's" View of It.

When questioned concerning the present condition of the Lane, Pop said: "Quiet? Quiet? Lo'd save us, maybe it ain't! Quiet? Quiet?" His emphasis was arranged crescendo, until the last word was really a vocal explosion. "Why, dis her' Lane ain't nohow like what it useter be-no indeed, it ain't. No, sir! 'Deed it ain't! Why, I kin remember dey was a-cuttin' an' a'slashin' 'long yere all night. 'Deed dey was! My-my, dem times was different! Dat dar Kent, he kep' de place at Green Gate Cou't-down yer ol' Mammy's-an' he was a hard baby-'deed, he was-an' ol' Black-Cat an' ol' Bloodthirsty, dey was a-roamin' round yere a-cuttin' an' a-slashin' . Didn't dar' say boo to a goose in dose days, dat you didn't, less'n you lookin' fer a sc.r.a.p. No, sir!" Then he gave information concerning his own prowess at that time. Pop is about as tall as a picket on an undersized fence. "But dey didn't have nothin' ter say to me! No, sir! 'Deed, dey didn't! I wouldn't lay down fer none of 'em. No, sir! Dey knew my gait, 'deed, dey did! Man, man, many's de time I buck up agin 'em. Yes, sir!"

At this time Pop had three customers in his place, one asleep on the bench, one asleep on the two chairs, and one asleep on the floor behind the stove.

But there is one man who lends dignity of the real bevel-edged type to Minetta Lane, and that man is Hank Anderson. Hank, of course, does not live in the Lane, but the shadow of his social perfections falls upon it as refreshingly as a morning dew. Hank gives a dance twice in each week, at a hall hard by in MacDougal Street, and the dusky aristocracy of the neighborhood know their guiding beacon. Moreover, Hank holds an annual ball in Forty-fourth Street. Also he gives a picnic each year to the Montezuma Club, when he again appears as a guiding beacon. This picnic is usually held on a barge and the occasion is a very joyous one. Some years ago it required the entire reserve squad of an up-town police precinct to properly control the enthusiasm of the gay picnickers, but that was an exceptional exuberance and no measure of Hank's ability for management.

He is really a great manager. He was Boss Tweed's body-servant in the days when Tweed was a political prince, and anyone who saw Bill Tweed through a spygla.s.s learned the science of leading, pulling, driving and hauling men in a way to keep men ignorant of it. Hank imbibed from this fount of knowledge and he applied his information in Thompson Street. Thompson Street salaamed. Presently he bore a proud t.i.tle: "The Mayor of Thompson Street." Dignities from the princ.i.p.al political organization of the city adorned his brow and he speedily became ill.u.s.trious.

Keeping in Touch.

Hank knew the Lane well in its direful days. As for the inhabitants, he kept clear of them and yet in touch with them according to a method that he might have learned in the Sixth Ward. The Sixth Ward was a good place in which to learn that trick. Anderson can tell many strange tales and good of the Lane, and he tells them in the graphic way of his cla.s.s. "Why, they could steal your shirt without moving a wrinkle on it."

The killing of Joe Carey was the last murder that happened in the Minettas. Carey had what might be called a mixed ale difference with a man named Kenny. They went out to the middle of Minetta Street to affably fight it out and determine the justice of the question. In the scrimmage Kenny drew a knife, thrust quickly and Carey fell. Kenny had not gone a hundred feet before he ran into the arms of a policeman.

There is probably no street in New York where the police keep closer watch than they do in Minetta Lane. There was a time when the inhabitants had a profound and reasonable contempt for the public guardians, but they have it no longer apparently. Any citizen can walk through there at any time in perfect safety unless, perhaps, he should happen to get too frivolous. To be strictly accurate, the change began under the reign of Police Captain Chapman. Under Captain Groo, the present commander of the Fifteenth Precinct, the Lane has donned a complete new garb. Its denizens brag now of its peace precisely as they once bragged of its war. It is no more a b.l.o.o.d.y lane. The song of the razor is seldom heard. There are still toughs and semi-toughs galore in it, but they can't get a chance with the copper looking the other way. Groo has got the poor old Lane by the throat. If a man should insist on becoming a victim of the badger game he could probably succeed upon search in Minetta Lane, as indeed, he could on any of the great avenues; but then Minetta Lane is not supposed to be a pearly street in Paradise.

In the meantime the Italians have begun to dispute possession of the Lane with the negroes. Green Gate Court is filled with them now, and a row of houses near the MacDougal Street corner is occupied entirely by Italian families. None of them seems to be overfond of the old Mulberry Bend fashion of life, and there are no cutting affrays among them worth mentioning. It is the original negro element that makes the trouble when there is trouble.

But they are happy in this condition, are these people. The most extraordinary quality of the negro is his enormous capacity for happiness under most adverse circ.u.mstances. Minetta Lane is a place of poverty and sin, but these influences cannot destroy the broad smile of the negro, a vain and simple child but happy. They all smile here, the most evil as well as the poorest. Knowing the negro, one always expects laughter from him, be he ever so poor, but it was a new experience to see a broad grin on the face of the devil. Even old Pop Babc.o.c.k had a laugh as fine and mellow as would be the sound of falling gla.s.s, broken saints from high windows, in the silence of some great cathedral's hollow.

ENDNOTES.

Maggie: A Girl of the Streets 1 (p. 7) for the honor of Rum Alley ... howling urchins from Devil's Row: As far as can be determined there was neither a Rum Alley nor a Devil's Row in Manhattan. Crane used these unpleasant names to underscore the squalor in which he had set his story. Rum Alley could be construed as a gentle dig at his mother's devotion to the cause of temperance. (p. 7) for the honor of Rum Alley ... howling urchins from Devil's Row: As far as can be determined there was neither a Rum Alley nor a Devil's Row in Manhattan. Crane used these unpleasant names to underscore the squalor in which he had set his story. Rum Alley could be construed as a gentle dig at his mother's devotion to the cause of temperance.

2 (p. 7) a (p. 7) a dock dock at at the river: the river: The river mentioned here is the East River, which is not a river at all, but a tidal estuary that connects Upper New York Bay with Long Island Sound. The river mentioned here is the East River, which is not a river at all, but a tidal estuary that connects Upper New York Bay with Long Island Sound.

3 (p. 7) (p. 7) Over on the Island: Over on the Island: This is a reference to Blackwell's Island (now Roosevelt Island), which has been home to prisons, a quarantine hospital, and a potter's field. Because the island can be seen from Rum Alley, we know that the action of the story takes place in a slum on the east side of Manhattan known as Dutch Hill, roughly where the United Nations building stands today. This is a reference to Blackwell's Island (now Roosevelt Island), which has been home to prisons, a quarantine hospital, and a potter's field. Because the island can be seen from Rum Alley, we know that the action of the story takes place in a slum on the east side of Manhattan known as Dutch Hill, roughly where the United Nations building stands today.

4 (p. 18) (p. 18) The babe, The babe, Tommie, Tommie, died: died: These four simple words are typical of Crane's writing style. This clipped, emotionless, technique was the ant.i.thesis of the more flowery style of the day. These four simple words are typical of Crane's writing style. This clipped, emotionless, technique was the ant.i.thesis of the more flowery style of the day.

5 (p. 19) (p. 19) His father died and his His father died and his mother's mother's years were divided up into periods of thirty days: years were divided up into periods of thirty days: This is another example of Crane's dispa.s.sionate voice. ("Thirty days" is a reference to the fact that she is living month to month in her hovel.) It is interesting to note that there is no mention of extravagant grief over the death of a husband and child, as opposed to Mary Johnson's lamentations following the death of her daughter. This is another example of Crane's dispa.s.sionate voice. ("Thirty days" is a reference to the fact that she is living month to month in her hovel.) It is interesting to note that there is no mention of extravagant grief over the death of a husband and child, as opposed to Mary Johnson's lamentations following the death of her daughter.

6 (p. 21 ) (p. 21 ) Yet he achieved Yet he achieved a a respect for respect for a a fire engine: fire engine: The thundering of fire engines through the chaotic streets stopped even the most jaded New Yorkers in their tracks. Jimmie, who respects very little, respects the firemen in their rigs because they are stronger and even greater daredevils than he is. The thundering of fire engines through the chaotic streets stopped even the most jaded New Yorkers in their tracks. Jimmie, who respects very little, respects the firemen in their rigs because they are stronger and even greater daredevils than he is.

7 (p. 22) (p. 22) "Deh moon looks like h.e.l.l, don't it?": "Deh moon looks like h.e.l.l, don't it?": This is perhaps the most famous line in the book, and the inarticulate limit of Jimmie's appreciation of life beyond the gutter. This is perhaps the most famous line in the book, and the inarticulate limit of Jimmie's appreciation of life beyond the gutter.

8 (p. 22) (p. 22) "Mag, I'll tell yeh dis!" "Mag, I'll tell yeh dis!" Here Jimmie explains Maggie's options, the two choices of slum women-h.e.l.l (prost.i.tution) or the presumed reward of heaven that comes with monotonous, unhealthy, poorly paid labor. Here Jimmie explains Maggie's options, the two choices of slum women-h.e.l.l (prost.i.tution) or the presumed reward of heaven that comes with monotonous, unhealthy, poorly paid labor.

9 (p. 23) (p. 23) to to a a boxing match in Williamsburg: boxing match in Williamsburg: Williamsburg was a separate city from New York and Brooklyn. Presumably going to far-off Williamsburg was something of an adventure. Williamsburg was later incorporated into the city of Brooklyn, which in turn became a borough of New York City in 1898. Williamsburg was a separate city from New York and Brooklyn. Presumably going to far-off Williamsburg was something of an adventure. Williamsburg was later incorporated into the city of Brooklyn, which in turn became a borough of New York City in 1898.

10 (p. 29) (p. 29) nationalities of the Bowery: nationalities of the Bowery: As the legitimate theater moved uptown, the Bowery, which had once been the great entertainment center of New York, was given over to tawdry dance halls and music halls such as the one described here. As the legitimate theater moved uptown, the Bowery, which had once been the great entertainment center of New York, was given over to tawdry dance halls and music halls such as the one described here.

11 (p. 33) (p. 33) She began to see the bloom: She began to see the bloom: This is almost the only example in the book of Maggie's sense of her own worth. This is almost the only example in the book of Maggie's sense of her own worth.

12 (p. 42) (p. 42) "Anybody what had eyes could see dat dere was somethin'wrong wid dat girl. I didn't like her "Anybody what had eyes could see dat dere was somethin'wrong wid dat girl. I didn't like her actions": The neighbors in the tenement function as a chorus commenting on the action of the story. They are by turns mocking, appalled, offended, and, as this line ill.u.s.trates, almost always wrong. actions": The neighbors in the tenement function as a chorus commenting on the action of the story. They are by turns mocking, appalled, offended, and, as this line ill.u.s.trates, almost always wrong.

13 (p. 53) (p. 53) ease of Pete's ways toward her: ease of Pete's ways toward her: This is a simple suggestion that Pete is bored with Maggie and ready to move on. His excitement at seeing Nell a few lines later only compounds this. This is a simple suggestion that Pete is bored with Maggie and ready to move on. His excitement at seeing Nell a few lines later only compounds this.

14 (p. 63) (p. 63) Maggie went away: Maggie went away: With these three words Crane tells the reader, but not Maggie, that this is the beginning of the end for her. With these three words Crane tells the reader, but not Maggie, that this is the beginning of the end for her.

15 (p. 65) (p. 65) she was neither new, Parisian, nor theatrical: she was neither new, Parisian, nor theatrical: Although we get the impression that Maggie was the most naive, inept prost.i.tute to walk the streets of New York, this line suggests that she must have gained some worldly knowledge in the course of her brief career. Although we get the impression that Maggie was the most naive, inept prost.i.tute to walk the streets of New York, this line suggests that she must have gained some worldly knowledge in the course of her brief career.

16 (p. 72) (p. 72) "She's gone where her sins will be judged": "She's gone where her sins will be judged": Here is another example of the tenement dwellers acting as commentators on the action of the story. Here is another example of the tenement dwellers acting as commentators on the action of the story.

George's Mother 1 (p. (p. 78) A man with 78) A man with a a red, mottled red, mottled face ... face ... shook his fist: shook his fist: This paragraph tells us that although we are now in the world of the upright, hardworking Kelceys, we are back in the slums, back in Maggie's milieu. This paragraph tells us that although we are now in the world of the upright, hardworking Kelceys, we are back in the slums, back in Maggie's milieu.

2 (p. 80) (p. 80) In the distance In the distance an an enormous brewery: enormous brewery: Here Crane includes a simple bit of foreshadowing. This brewery, snorting smoke like some kind of monster, is the creature that suffuses the entire story and is the source of George's downfall. Here Crane includes a simple bit of foreshadowing. This brewery, snorting smoke like some kind of monster, is the creature that suffuses the entire story and is the source of George's downfall.

3 (p. 83) (p. 83) He began to be vexed.... it was depressing: He began to be vexed.... it was depressing: This paragraph and the others describing the imagined prayer meeting are so vivid that they must have been based on Crane's own experiences in his ultrareligious childhood home. The religious regimen of his youth consisted of going to church twice on Sundays and once on Wednesdays, as well as twice-daily Bible readings at home. This paragraph and the others describing the imagined prayer meeting are so vivid that they must have been based on Crane's own experiences in his ultrareligious childhood home. The religious regimen of his youth consisted of going to church twice on Sundays and once on Wednesdays, as well as twice-daily Bible readings at home.

4 (p. 95) (p. 95) One day he met Maggie Johnson on the stairs: One day he met Maggie Johnson on the stairs: One can only say "poor George" and "poorer still Maggie." If only they had stopped to chat ... One can only say "poor George" and "poorer still Maggie." If only they had stopped to chat ...

5 (p. 108) (p. 108) almost the exact truth: almost the exact truth: In other words, at least one of George's co-workers knew what had happened earlier. George had gotten blind drunk somewhere and pa.s.sed out. In other words, at least one of George's co-workers knew what had happened earlier. George had gotten blind drunk somewhere and pa.s.sed out.

6 (p. 112) (p. 112) Kelcey sometimes wondered whether he liked beer: Kelcey sometimes wondered whether he liked beer: This is one of the most telling lines in the book, and certainly the funniest. If George had thought a bit harder about the question he would have realized that he probably didn't like beer and would be happier without it. This is one of the most telling lines in the book, and certainly the funniest. If George had thought a bit harder about the question he would have realized that he probably didn't like beer and would be happier without it.

Other Stories 1 (p. 157) (p. 157) Indeed, it was not until the Binkses had left the Indeed, it was not until the Binkses had left the city ... city ... recovered their balances: recovered their balances: Given that New Jersey has now become the punch line of jokes about urban sprawl and air pollution, it is hard to recall that until recently, the state of New Jersey was considered a verdant paradise compared with the smoky and cobble-bound New York City. Just across the Hudson River were green fields, fresh water, and the quiet of rural life. New Jersey supplied most of the fresh vegetables for New York and Philadelphia. It is no coincidence that New Jersey is called the "Garden State." Given that New Jersey has now become the punch line of jokes about urban sprawl and air pollution, it is hard to recall that until recently, the state of New Jersey was considered a verdant paradise compared with the smoky and cobble-bound New York City. Just across the Hudson River were green fields, fresh water, and the quiet of rural life. New Jersey supplied most of the fresh vegetables for New York and Philadelphia. It is no coincidence that New Jersey is called the "Garden State."

2 (p. 195) (p. 195) If If a a beginner beginner expects ... expects ... until the next morning: until the next morning: Crane steadfastly maintained that he had never smoked opium. The vividness of this paragraph suggests otherwise. When asked in open court about his opium use, Crane took cover behind the Fifth Amendment. Crane steadfastly maintained that he had never smoked opium. The vividness of this paragraph suggests otherwise. When asked in open court about his opium use, Crane took cover behind the Fifth Amendment.

AN INSPIRATION FOR CRANE'S WRITINGS ABOUT NEW YORK: JACOB RIIS'S HOW THE OTHER HALF LIVES AND MUCKRAKING Stephen Crane's Maggie: A Girl of the Streets Girl of the Streets (1893) was the first major work of naturalism in American fiction. The novel's vivid, unflinching narrative, set in the inhumane living conditions in the tenements of New York City, inspired scores of other American writers to record their observations with a near-photographic realism. Crane's material for his remarkably true-to-life novel came from firsthand experience. He had immersed himself in the very conditions he describes in (1893) was the first major work of naturalism in American fiction. The novel's vivid, unflinching narrative, set in the inhumane living conditions in the tenements of New York City, inspired scores of other American writers to record their observations with a near-photographic realism. Crane's material for his remarkably true-to-life novel came from firsthand experience. He had immersed himself in the very conditions he describes in Maggie Maggie and his newspaper articles, several of which appear in the present volume. and his newspaper articles, several of which appear in the present volume.

Three years before Maggie appeared, social activist Jacob Riis published an unfaltering depiction of life in New York City with How the Other Half Lives: Studies Among the Tenements of New York How the Other Half Lives: Studies Among the Tenements of New York (1890), a groundbreaking work of nonfiction and photography. Riis, who like Crane had a background in journalism, wrote a startling expose of the squalid existence of New York's immigrant poor. Riis's work, well-received from the start, had a tremendous impact on social policy. With its publication, officials recognized the appalling living conditions of many of the city's residents and made tenement reform a priority on the political agenda. Theodore Roosevelt, at the time New York City's police commissioner, called Riis "the most useful citizen of New York." (1890), a groundbreaking work of nonfiction and photography. Riis, who like Crane had a background in journalism, wrote a startling expose of the squalid existence of New York's immigrant poor. Riis's work, well-received from the start, had a tremendous impact on social policy. With its publication, officials recognized the appalling living conditions of many of the city's residents and made tenement reform a priority on the political agenda. Theodore Roosevelt, at the time New York City's police commissioner, called Riis "the most useful citizen of New York."

Much of the emotional appeal of How the Other Half Lives How the Other Half Lives arose from Riis's unforgettable photographs of the extreme misery of people living in tenements. The pictures forced readers to confront head-on the staggering circ.u.mstances of large numbers of people in a manner that prose could not possibly convey. Riis's explicit photographs allowed him to maintain a more subdued tone in his writing that lent credibility to his call for reform. The success of his work paved the way for Stephen Crane, who in many ways tried to replicate the photographic impact of arose from Riis's unforgettable photographs of the extreme misery of people living in tenements. The pictures forced readers to confront head-on the staggering circ.u.mstances of large numbers of people in a manner that prose could not possibly convey. Riis's explicit photographs allowed him to maintain a more subdued tone in his writing that lent credibility to his call for reform. The success of his work paved the way for Stephen Crane, who in many ways tried to replicate the photographic impact of How the Other Half Lives. How the Other Half Lives. Crane's narrative style is often referred to as "imagistic," and in Crane's narrative style is often referred to as "imagistic," and in Maggie, Maggie, his first mature work, Crane compensates for a lack of actual images with his colorful, even lurid prose impressions. his first mature work, Crane compensates for a lack of actual images with his colorful, even lurid prose impressions.

Crane and Riis are a.s.sociated with the tradition of American journalism known as "muckraking." The loose term refers to journalists who wrote expose and reform stories in the period between the 1890s and World War I. Overly sensational, condescending, and truth-distorting accounts by some journalists lent muckraking a dubious reputation, although many writers made their cases for reform with integrity. Notable "muckraking" journalists include Lincoln Steffens, Ray Stannard Baker, and Ida Tarbell. Riis's How the Other Half Lives How the Other Half Lives inspired socialist-leaning author Jack London to write an a.n.a.logous depiction of London's East End, t.i.tled inspired socialist-leaning author Jack London to write an a.n.a.logous depiction of London's East End, t.i.tled The People of the Abyss The People of the Abyss (1903). (1903).

Upton Sinclair's muckraking novel The Jungle The Jungle (1906) is singular among works of fiction for its positive effect on the real world. The novel's horrifying descriptions of the unsanitary handling of food in Chicago's meatpacking district caused public outrage, and the reality of rotten and diseased food being offered to consumers was confirmed by Chicago newspapers. In response to the furor caused by (1906) is singular among works of fiction for its positive effect on the real world. The novel's horrifying descriptions of the unsanitary handling of food in Chicago's meatpacking district caused public outrage, and the reality of rotten and diseased food being offered to consumers was confirmed by Chicago newspapers. In response to the furor caused by The Jungle, The Jungle, Roosevelt, who had become president of the United States, ordered the Department of Agriculture to investigate conditions in the stockyards, and Congress pa.s.sed the Food and Drug Act and the Meat Inspection Act just months after the novel's publication. Roosevelt, who had become president of the United States, ordered the Department of Agriculture to investigate conditions in the stockyards, and Congress pa.s.sed the Food and Drug Act and the Meat Inspection Act just months after the novel's publication.

The term "muckraking," ironically, was coined as a pejorative by Roosevelt in 1906, more than a decade after he had praised Riis's work. The word comes from John Bunyan's Christian allegory The Pilgrim's The Pilgrim's Progress Progress (part I, 1678; part II, 1684), which refers to the Man with the Muck-rake: "the man who could look no way but downward, with the muck-rake in his hand; who was offered a celestial crown for his muck-rake, but who would neither look up nor regard the crown he was offered, but continued to rake to himself the filth of the floor." In coining the term in its modern application, Roosevelt meant to discourage the sort of reckless journalism that, rather than responsibly exposing injustices, attempted to increase circulation with negative stories dependent upon hyperbole and sensationalism-methods both Crane and Riis avoided. In signing the reform legislation, however, and in his praise of Riis, Roosevelt implicitly acknowledged the usefulness of ethical muckrakers. (part I, 1678; part II, 1684), which refers to the Man with the Muck-rake: "the man who could look no way but downward, with the muck-rake in his hand; who was offered a celestial crown for his muck-rake, but who would neither look up nor regard the crown he was offered, but continued to rake to himself the filth of the floor." In coining the term in its modern application, Roosevelt meant to discourage the sort of reckless journalism that, rather than responsibly exposing injustices, attempted to increase circulation with negative stories dependent upon hyperbole and sensationalism-methods both Crane and Riis avoided. In signing the reform legislation, however, and in his praise of Riis, Roosevelt implicitly acknowledged the usefulness of ethical muckrakers.

Later "muckrakers" include civil-rights activist Angela Davis, feminist and political activist Gloria Steinem, Fast Food Nation Fast Food Nation (2001) author Eric Schlosser, and filmmaker Michael Moore, whose films include (2001) author Eric Schlosser, and filmmaker Michael Moore, whose films include Roger & Me Roger & Me (1989), (1989), Bowling for Columbine Bowling for Columbine (2002), and (2002), and Fahrenheit Fahrenheit 9/11 (2004). 9/11 (2004).

COMMENTS & QUESTIONS.

In this section, we aim to provide the reader with an an array of perspectives on the texts, array of perspectives on the texts, as as well well as as questions that challenge those perspectives. The commentary has been culled from sources questions that challenge those perspectives. The commentary has been culled from sources as as diverse diverse as as reviews contemporaneous with the works, letters written by the reviews contemporaneous with the works, letters written by the author, author, literary criticism of literary criticism of later generations, and appreciations later generations, and appreciations written throughout the works' histories. Following the commentary, written throughout the works' histories. Following the commentary, a a series of questions seeks to series of questions seeks to filter filter Stephen Stephen Crane's Maggie: A Girl of the Streets and Other Writings About New York Crane's Maggie: A Girl of the Streets and Other Writings About New York through through a a variety of points of view variety of points of view and and bring bring about a about a richer understanding of these enduring works. richer understanding of these enduring works.

Comments HAMLIN GARLAND.

['Maggie'] is of more interest to me, both because it is the work of a young man, and also because it is a work of astonishingly good style. It deals with poverty and vice and crime also, but it does so, not out of curiosity, not out of salaciousness, but because of a distinct art impulse, the desire to utter in truthful phrase a certain rebellious cry. It is the voice of the slums. It is not written by a dilettante; it is written by one who has lived the life. The young author, Stephen Crane, is a native of the city, and has grown up in the very scenes he describes. His book is the most truthful and unhackneyed study of the slums I have yet read, fragment though it is. It is pictorial, graphic, terrible in its directness. It has no conventional phrases. It gives the dialect of the slums as I have never before seen it written-crisp, direct, terse. It is another locality finding voice....

The dictum is amazingly simple and fine for so young a writer. Some of the words illuminate like flashes of light. Mr. Crane is only twenty-one years of age, and yet he has met and grappled with the actualities of the street in almost unequalled grace and strength. With such a technique technique already at command, with life mainly already at command, with life mainly before him, before him, Stephen Crane is to be henceforth reckoned with. Stephen Crane is to be henceforth reckoned with.

-from Arena (June 1893) NEW YORK TIMES.

Mr. Crane pictures Maggie's home with colors now lurid and now black, but always with the hand of an artist. And the various stages of her career, until in despair at being neglected she, we are led to believe, commits suicide by jumping into the river, are shown with such vivid and terrible accuracy as to make one believe they are photographic. Mr. Crane cannot have seen all that he describes, and yet the reader feels that he must have seen it all. This, perhaps, is the highest praise one can give the book. Mr. Crane is a master of slum slang. His dialogues are surprisingly effective and natural. The talk Pete indulges in while intoxicated makes one see in his mind's eye the very figure of the loathsome beast for the loss of whom Maggie died.... Mr. Crane's story should be read for the fidelity with which it portrays a life that is potent on this island, along with the life of the best of us. It is a powerful portrayal, and, if sombre and repellent, none the less true, none the less freighted with appeal to those who are able to a.s.sist in righting wrongs.

-May 31, 1896

MORNING ADVERTISER.

A Girl of the Streets, Stephen Crane's latest novel, is a picture of the lowest stratum of society in its gloomiest form. It is as realistic as anything that Emile Zola has ever written. Though some of its chapters are enough to give one the 'creeps,' none can deny that the characters which he draws with such a master hand are absolutely true to life. The dialect is also natural, and nothing is lacking to give Devil's Row and Rum Alley, slums of the darker New York, such prominence as they never had before. It may, in fact, be said that Mr. Crane has discovered those localities and revealed them to the astonished gaze of the world for the first time. The reader, in going over the pages of A Girl of the Streets, Girl of the Streets, is reminded of nothing so much as the slimy things that crawl and blink when a long undisturbed stone is removed and the light is thrown upon them. The hero and heroine, if such they may be called, are Jimmie and Maggie Johnson, brother and sister, residents of Devil's Row. Maggie is the only redeeming character in the book, and even she does not redeem to any extent. She is betrayed and she dies, and the mourning of Devil's Row at her wake is fearfully grewsome. a.n.a.lytical powers are the chief feature of the novel. It is free from maudlin sentiment. No missionary ever ventures near Rum Alley. Its denizens are left to their own resources, and they simmer in them. is reminded of nothing so much as the slimy things that crawl and blink when a long undisturbed stone is removed and the light is thrown upon them. The hero and heroine, if such they may be called, are Jimmie and Maggie Johnson, brother and sister, residents of Devil's Row. Maggie is the only redeeming character in the book, and even she does not redeem to any extent. She is betrayed and she dies, and the mourning of Devil's Row at her wake is fearfully grewsome. a.n.a.lytical powers are the chief feature of the novel. It is free from maudlin sentiment. No missionary ever ventures near Rum Alley. Its denizens are left to their own resources, and they simmer in them.

-June 1, 1896

WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS.

I think that what strikes me most in the story of Maggie Maggie is that quality of fatal necessity which dominates Greek tragedy. From the conditions it all had to be, and there were the conditions. I felt this in Mr. Hardy's Jude, where the principle seems to become conscious in the writer; but there is apparently no consciousness of any such motive in the author of Maggie. Another effect is that of an ideal of artistic beauty which is as present in the working out of this poor girl's squalid romance as in any cla.s.sic fable. This will be foolishness, I know, to the foolish people who cannot discriminate between the material and the treatment in art, and who think that beauty is inseparable from daintiness and prettiness, but I do not speak to them. I appeal rather to such as feel themselves akin with every kind of human creature, and find neither high nor low when it is a question of inevitable suffering, or of a soul struggling vainly with an inexorable fate. is that quality of fatal necessity which dominates Greek tragedy. From the conditions it all had to be, and there were the conditions. I felt this in Mr. Hardy's Jude, where the principle seems to become conscious in the writer; but there is apparently no consciousness of any such motive in the author of Maggie. Another effect is that of an ideal of artistic beauty which is as present in the working out of this poor girl's squalid romance as in any cla.s.sic fable. This will be foolishness, I know, to the foolish people who cannot discriminate between the material and the treatment in art, and who think that beauty is inseparable from daintiness and prettiness, but I do not speak to them. I appeal rather to such as feel themselves akin with every kind of human creature, and find neither high nor low when it is a question of inevitable suffering, or of a soul struggling vainly with an inexorable fate.

My rhetoric scarcely suggests the simple terms the author uses to produce the effect which I am trying to report again. They are simple, but always most graphic, especially when it comes to the personalities of the story; the girl herself, with her bewildered wish to be right and good; with her distorted perspective; her clinging and generous affections; her hopeless environments; the horrible old drunken mother, a cyclone of violence and volcano of vulgarity; the mean and selfish lover; a dandy tough, with his gross ideals and ambitions ; her brother, an Ishmaelite from the cradle, who with his war-like instincts beaten back into cunning, is what the b'hoy of former times has become in our more strenuously policed days. He is indeed a wonderful figure in a group which betrays no faltering in the artist's hand. He, with his dull hates, his warped good-will, his cowed ferocity, is almost as fine artistically as Maggie, but he could not have been so hard to do, for all the pathos of her fate is rendered without one maudlin touch.

So is that of the simple-minded and devoted and tedious old woman who is George's mother in the book of that name. This is scarcely a study at all, while Maggie is really and fully so. It is the study of a situation merely: a poor, inadequate woman, of a commonplace religiosity, whose son goes to the bad. The wonder of it is the courage which deals with persons so absolutely average, and the art that graces them with the beauty of the author's compa.s.sion for everything that errs and suffers. Without this feeling the effects of his mastery would be impossible, and if it went further or put itself into the pitying phrases it would annul the effects. But it never does this; it is notable how in all respects the author keeps himself well in hand. He is quite honest with his reader. He never shows his characters or his situations in any sort of sentimental glamour; if you will be moved by the sadness of common fates you will feel his intention, but he does not flatter his portraits of people or conditions to take your fancy.

In George and his mother he has to do with folk of country origin as the city affects them, and the son's decadence is admirably studied; he scarcely struggles against temptation, and his mother's only art is to cry and to scold. Yet he loves her, in a way, and she is devotedly proud of him. These simple country folk are contrasted with simple city folk of varying degrees of badness. Mr. Crane has the skill to show how evil is greatly the effect of ignorance and imperfect civilization. The club of friends, older men than George, whom he is asked to join, is portrayed with extraordinary insight, and the group of young toughs whom he finally consorts with is done with even greater mastery. The bulldog motive of one of them, who is willing to fight to the death, is most impressively rendered.

-from New York World (July 26, 1896)

H. G. WELLS.

The relative merits of the Red Badge of Courage Red Badge of Courage and and Maggie Maggie are open to question. To the present reviewer it seems that in are open to question. To the present reviewer it seems that in Maggie Maggie we come nearer to Mr. Crane's individuality. Perhaps where we might expect strength we get merely stress, but one may doubt whether we have not been hasty in a.s.suming Mr. Crane to be a strong man in fiction. Strength and gaudy colour rarely go together; tragic and sombre are well nigh inseparable. One gets an impression from the we come nearer to Mr. Crane's individuality. Perhaps where we might expect strength we get merely stress, but one may doubt whether we have not been hasty in a.s.suming Mr. Crane to be a strong man in fiction. Strength and gaudy colour rarely go together; tragic and sombre are well nigh inseparable. One gets an impression from the Red Badge Red Badge that at the end Mr. Crane could scarcely have had a gasp left in him-that he must have been mentally hoa.r.s.e for weeks after it. But here he works chiefly for pretty effects, for gleams of sunlight on the stagnant puddles he paints. He gets them, a little consciously perhaps, but, to the present reviewer's sense, far more effectively than he gets anger and fear. And he has done his work, one feels, to please himself. His book is a work of art, even if it is not a very great or successful work of art-it ranks above the novel of commerce, if only on that account. that at the end Mr. Crane could scarcely have had a gasp left in him-that he must have been mentally hoa.r.s.e for weeks after it. But here he works chiefly for pretty effects, for gleams of sunlight on the stagnant puddles he paints. He gets them, a little consciously perhaps, but, to the present reviewer's sense, far more effectively than he gets anger and fear. And he has done his work, one feels, to please himself. His book is a work of art, even if it is not a very great or successful work of art-it ranks above the novel of commerce, if only on that account.

-from Sat.u.r.day Review Sat.u.r.day Review (December 19. 1896) (December 19. 1896)

JOSEPH CONRAD.

[Stephen Crane] had indeed a wonderful power of vision, which he applied to the things of this earth and of our mortal humanity with a penetrating force that seemed to reach, within life's appearances and forms, the very spirit of life's truth. His ignorance of the world at large-he had seen very little of it-did not stand in the way of his imaginative grasp of facts, events, and picturesque men.

His manner was very quiet, his personality at first sight interesting, and he talked slowly with an intonation which on some people, mainly Americans, had, I believe, a jarring effect. But not on me. Whatever he said had a personal note, and he expressed himself with a graphic simplicity which was extremely engaging. He knew little of literature, either of his own country or of any other, but he was himself a wonderful artist in words whenever he took a pen into his hand. Then his gift came out-and it was seen to be much more than mere felicity of language. His impressionism of phrase went really deeper than the surface. In his writing he was very sure of his effects. I don't think he was ever in doubt about what he could do. Yet it often seemed to me that he was but half aware of the exceptional quality of his achievement.

This achievement was curtailed by his early death. It was a great loss to his friends, but perhaps not so much to literature. I think he had given his measure fully in the few books he had the time to write. Let me not be misunderstood: the loss was great, but it was the loss of the delight his art could give, not the loss of any further possible revelation. As to himself, who can say how much he gained or lost by quitting so early this world of the living, which he knew how to set before us in the terms of his own artistic vision? Perhaps he did not lose a great deal.

-from Notes on Life and Letters Notes on Life and Letters ( 1921 ) ( 1921 ) EDWARD GARNETT.

Two qualities in especial combined to form Crane's unique quality, viz his wonderful insight into, and mastery of, the primary pa.s.sions, and his irony deriding the swelling emotions of the self. It is his irony that checks the emotional intensity of his delineation, and suddenly reveals pa.s.sion at high tension in the clutch of the implacable tides of life. It is the perfect fusion of these two forces of pa.s.sion and irony that creates Crane's spiritual background, and raises his work, at its finest, into the higher zone of man's tragic conflict with the universe.... In "Maggie," 1896, that little masterpiece which drew the highest tribute from the veteran, W. D. Howells, again it is the irony that keeps in right perspective Crane's remorseless study of New York slum and Bowery morals. The code of herd law by which the inexperienced girl, Maggie, is pressed to death by her family, her lover and the neighbours, is seen working with strange finality The Bowery inhabitants, as we, can be nothing other than what they are; their human nature responds inexorably to their brutal environment; the curious habits and code of the most primitive savage tribes could not be presented with a more impartial exactness, or with more sympathetic understanding.

"Maggie" is not a story about people; it is primitive human nature itself set down with perfect spontaneity and grace of handling. For pure aesthetic beauty and truth no Russian, not Tchekhov himself, could have bettered this study, which, as Howells remarks, has the quality of Greek tragedy -from Friday Nights: Literary Criticism and Appreciation Friday Nights: Literary Criticism and Appreciation ( 1922) ( 1922) SHERWOOD ANDERSON.

Writers in America who do not know their Stephen Crane are missing a lot.