Democratic Sentinel, Volume 18, Number 37, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 September 1894 — HE EMPLOYS WOMEN. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

HE EMPLOYS WOMEN.

GOOD WORK DONE AT EDISON’S BY NIMBLE FINGERS. Plenty of Delicate Work at Which Women Earn Very Good Wages--Sketches of Girls at Work. The train slowed up and entered Orange so easily and quietly that I sat still, never dreaming we were there yet. I awaited the accustomed tooting and snorting of the engine, halloing and yelling by the brakemen, the pushing of people behind to get out before the one ahead, and the sudden stop of the car, for which one braces his feet in expectancy. “ This is Orange, madam,” said the brakeman mildly, and I hurried forward, all in a flutter to hail a boy who stood gazing sleepily at the train. ‘‘Say, young man, tell me quick if Edison’s laboratory is here.” He looked startled, batted his eyes and stared at me. “ Hurry, won’t you, because I must take this train if it is at the next station,”

‘‘l’ll wait for you,” said the conductor, as he swung himself carelessly around one of the posts that held up the wide veranda. “ Don’t you know, young man, whether Edison’s headquarters are here or further on ?” “Why, yes, sir; the laboratory and kinetographic departments are all here.” Without any hurry or ruffled manner the conductor waved his hand, and the train silently moved out, the boy turned on his heel and disappeared. Catching my breath and saying, “Down brakes, young woman, you are going too fast for this place,” I turned to an old man who sleepily gazed at me and asked the quickest way to the laboratory. Drowsily he pointed to an electric car that was coming up the street a

block away. “That will take you to the door,” he said. The one long main street and cross street near were full qf people, but nobody talked. Though the sun was beaming down with fierce heat, no one seemed uncomfortably hot in Orange. Some one was blowing a cornet; in a room over a grocery store. The melody floated out in sweet, low, clear notes that, instead of jarring one’s nerves, set everyone to thinking. The cars travelled along without making the accustomed clatter and whizzing of city cars, and people took their time getting pn and off. The conductor read a newspaper and seemed so comfortable I wondered if it was right to disturb him and tell him where I wanted to get off. . Groups of men lounged about the corner stores; some were thought-

fully chewing tobacco, others whittled and three were reading the morning papers. A man came out jof a butcher shop, threw into a buggy a sack of meat, and, taking up the reins, drove away without even saying “get up” to his drooping horse. A peculiar restful feelipg came over me and I wondered If people did

not live twice as long in Orange as they did in the city—l felt that I had been going 200 miles an hour, and was suddenly brought down to ten. What relief it was and how oddly my muscles relaxed; how dreadfully tired I was—strange I had not realized it before. “The laboratory!” called the conductor. “Take your time; don’t hurry.” Ah, yes, I had forgotten agaiisL for, with a rush, 1 had left a bundle, dropped my parasol and lead pencil, all of which the conductor slowly picked up and handed to me. So still! surely lam in the wrong place. There cannot be hundreds of men and women working here. Ding, sounded the bell, in answer to my pressing the electric button on the outside of the immense gate that separated me from the great buildings in the inclosure. “Here, Bob, take this lady down to Superintendent Young; she wants to see the girls at work,” said a pleasant man in the laboratory. “Never mind putting on your hat—the sun won’t hurt you.” The bare-headed, black-eyed boy hid his hands in his trousers pockets

and sauntered smilingly beside me. “We have a half holiday to-day and you’ll see the hands goin’ out pretty soon,” was the startling information he gave me. “Come, then, let us hurry,” I muttered, hastening on, but that boy never changed his pace, nor ceased his sunshiny smiling. Through necessity I lagged, and fell into the regular, easy swagger of my guide. “Yes, we employ women here,” said Supt. Young. “We like women in all work that is not too heavy for them. Their fingers are so nimble and their work always neat. Mr. Edison favors women whenever he has work they can do. I will take you into the machine department. The number of girls we employ of course depends wholly on the amount of work to do.”

There was the same quiet atmosphere about the superintendent and the machine shop that I had felt surrounded the depot. Mr. Young, in a few quiet words, drew the attention of all the workers to him, and in a mysterious and masterly way gave orders, changed orders and kept an eye on everything. There was no bustle, no uneasiness; no loud and irritating words were heard and no discontent made manifest during the visit. Everything had' the “press-the-button” effect. All one had to do was to express a wish and it was granted quietly and easily. The long, airy and sunny buildings were filled with mysterious machinery, and the girls at the benches, without exception, met me with a happy smile and courteous manner. “We ought to be happy,” said a

young woman they called Ella; “don’t we have everything to be glad about? I like the work immensely and make a lot of money. The work is not difficult, once learned, and one has great satisfaction in becoming an expert in anything.! How did I know how? Why, I had a teacher, of course, at first. I had to learn the

trade as boys do who go in machine shops. I thought I ought to be able to do the work. There is no heavy lifting in my duties; everything depends on judgment and deftness. I applied and learned, and have been in Mr. Edison's employ for years and hope I always shall be as long as there is work to do. “I make brushes,” she continued, rising to show me just what she did. “See. I first unwind the wire from the spools, straighten it, then cut it with this implement into one-half inch lengths. Next comes the soldering. That is done this way.” She heated a rod by the aid of a gas jet arranged for the purpose, and when hot enough, the wires were all soldered tight into place. “This kind of brush is called a governor; I can make two hundred in one day. These larger ones are known as commutators, and are twice as large as the governors, consequently I make only half as many in a day. Ella is a plump, round-faced young woman with clear, frank eyes that look straight at you. Her heavy brown hair showed care and neatness. Her quick business movements denoted thorough understanding of her work, and her pleasant manner and particularly bright smile explained why she was such a favorite in the workroom. At another bench, where the cool breezes always circled, sat girls making belts. Cheerfulness, calm gayety and content seemed the greatest virtues of the hands in this room. “It is pleasant work, very,” explained Ella, a tall, willowy girl, whose naturally serious face lighted wonderfully when she spoke. “I make belts for the phonographs from morning till night. Yes, Ido piece work, but don’t mind stopping to show you. First, I take the hide—we get a whole calfskin, dressed of course—and then I cut it into strips just the length and width I wish. Oh, I don’t- have any trouble, for the knives are so very sharp. Now, look. I stretch them with the machine; then I shave the ends, so, and place them together like this—lapping one shaved end over the other—then glue it fast. Now comes the pretty part. Sometimes I take blue silk thread, and sometimes red, but the belts must be sewed four times around. I can do it awfully fast, and get it straight as a die.” “I suppose that is to make the belts look fancy.” “Oh dear, no.” My stupid remark was heard far and wide, and I had to submit to a general ha, ha, from all the pretty lips in the room. “I scarcely think Mr. Edison would pay us to do embroidery work, do you, girls? No; there is a reason for the stitching; it keeps the belts from stretching.” “Do you have any trouble with your sewing machine?” “Never. It is run by electricity, and it doesn’t tiro me. We work ten hours a day, but it is so very pleasant for us here that we would much rather work than not.” She sac down to the machine and in what seemed a very few minutes had completed one of the dainty blue silk stitched belts. Superintendent Young suggested going into the Japan room. A sweetfaced girl called Carrie handles with great dexterity the brush in doing the Japanning. All the machines are Japanned, and a lot of other things —work that only the nimble fingers of women can execute swiftly. “There is no use talking,” said the superintendent, “woman can do many things better than men. Mr. Edison favors their employ purely from a business standpoint. When we were working on the dolls we had over 200 girls The inachines were so arranged that when the girls spoke through them the voice was reproduced like that of a child. Ella over there was invaluable, her enunciation is so distinct.”

We entered the assembling room, which was, if anything, cooler than the machine shops. Wide doors and windows were stretched open; partitions were cut through so the breeze could have a full sweep along the whole length of the building. Everything was made with a view to comfort as well as business. ‘ ‘The more comfortable we can make the workmen, the better work they turn out,” said the superintendent. At one table just below a window through which the perfume of cut grass came pouring in, sat two young women making their fingers fly so rapidly that it was impossible to understand what they were doing without stopping to explain. A fresh, rosy face, blue eyes, large and merry, long lashes and the curliest, golden-brown hair that ever covered a head, belonged to Maggie, who from seven in the morning till 6 at night, winds armatures. “No, I don’t get very tired,” she replied to my question. At first it was bothersome, and I had to get used to sitting and holding the wire, but now I can wind five armatures a day. There are 700 yards on each. That makes a lot of the wire go through your hands during the ten hours work. We have to be so very careful too, to get each round just so.” “Is there no machinery that could do this ? ” “Mr. Young says it could be done by machinery, but it would cost more than by having it done by hand, and I am rather glad of that, because machinery would throw me out of employment.” ' ‘Do you work by the day or by the piece ? ” “By the week just now, but next Monday w.e commence by the piece. I like piece work better, because we can make more. Mr. Young is a remarkably kind and considerate man. We all like him. He never forgets what we are doing—he never fails to know whether we ought to be extra weary or not. He never overworks or is unkind. We would do anything for him.” “Do you make much money-at such employment?” 1 “Oh, yes; quite enough. The wages range from $3 up. Ella over there for a while made $lB a week on piecework. An expert at her bench can accomplish mqch. One has to learn the trade before being able to do anything. It does not seem difficult to wind these spools, yet every thread must be just so, or the whole thing is useless. One act of careless-

ness might undo a whole day’s work.'* “What are you doing? ” I inquired of a fair, sunny-haired girl opposite at the same table. “Covering spools for the kinetograph. The spools are brass, and must be covered with velvet. It is easy after you once know how,” she said, and raising her head exposed to my admiring gaze the curliest “bang” I had seen in weeks. “Of course, I would like to know all about the spools.” I remarked, “ but first tell me where you get such a perfect false “bang.” It matches your hair so beautifully, and the curls are simply bewitching.” Such ripples of laughter, such dancing of eyes, such howls of delight as filled the room again provod I had blundered, “Pull it,” said the girl, bending forward her sunny head. “It is mine, all natural and fast tight.” “I suppose you have some understanding with your mysterious electricity, then, to keep it in such marvellous curl,” I cried dumbfounded, as I mopped the perspiration from my own brow and face. More laughter and saucy remarks, full of appreciation of the subject, drove me finally into another department. “We live, most all of us, in Orange,” said Ella; “some come from Newark, a few from East Orange, and the small villages about. There are few girls on duty these hot days—work is slack, and there is no need for them. We consider our selves very fortunate to be included in the few retained. This tiiqe last year there were sixty of us, and once we numbered over 200. Mr. Edison never gives the men what we can do. When that kind comes in, then women are called to do it. Oh, please say something nice about Superintendent Young,” exclaimed one, “ho is such a good man; we could talk all dav about how kind the officials are to us.”—[Cynthia M. Westover in the N. Y. Recorder.

WINDING AND COVERING SPOOLS.

ELLA, THE EXPERT BRUSH MAKER.

MAKING BANDS FOR THE PHONOGRAPH.