Page Six

SCARLET AND ELACK

1» 01d People Don't Complain About Situation

.‘(mi ued from Preceding Page)

1311' across a house that was
strikingiy ramshackle even among
the ulller rundown hames. All Old
man who might well he the subs
jest oi some iutule an poverty
poster via sitting in front of the
house, which was being overgrown

wuh grass and weed

problems. with a budget airless
than $40,000 a year (supplied by
the United Campaign), only two

Sam gives me $100 a month” kids " We asked them wlt'lt could iu11»time workers can be hired,
Not really enough to live on, we be done to help the situation ‘Its “but we new at least may we

noted.

As we left Mr. Veneh, the three
of us were struck by the knowl-
edge that the three old people we
had talked to so far had not Com-
plaiued about the conditions they
were living in. They were doing

got to start tram the lientt. New
buildings wont solve the piuh
lein A nice soltitioul

As we were leaving, we passed
a home next to the church. A innit
and his son were standing in lront
of the house, rind the father com-

MR. VEACH sits in front of his loo-year-old house in nice weathet. He has two cats and

an occasional reporter ior company.

Mr. Veach was the man‘s name,
and he was 30 years old. His leet
were bad, so he didn’t, move a»
round much. “I just sit out here
in the nice weather, and when I
get hungry I go in to get some
thing to eat.”

His wife had died a few months
ago, so “I‘m the last one to live

THIS WOMAN'S HUSBAND

~in this house. It's 100 years old.”

We all believed him about the age
or the house, but actually he
wasn‘t alone. He kept two cats to
catch rats.

Mr. Veaeh had lived in the house
tor 25 years. He had been an un—
(lei-taker in St. Louis and Kansas
City nciortt retiring. ‘Now Uncle

the best they could do alone to
live out their days happily, We
supposed they were happy. We
Could hardly believe they were
proud, though.

A couple blocks trom the cen-
tury-old houseot Mr. Veach, we
saw a group painting an old
church. the sheltering Rock Pen-

is employed. but the tench.
iicn of their property makes you wonder if he isn‘t under.
employed.

tacostal Church. The persons du-
ing the painting were members of
the tamilypt the church’s minis-
ter.

We asked them it they lived in
the neighborhood. They didn’t. We
asked them what kind of people
lived in the Bottoms area. “Mast-
ly people with dcbto._ dog-i and

 

plained, “Now I suppose I’ll have
to go out and get a gallon oi
white paint and paint my fence.
Can’t have a dirty ience next tn
a nice white church.” Sbmehow
the man’s statement didn’t seem
[0 come from the heart.

We came across a big red brick
building in the middle of the Bat»
toms area and learned that it was
the “oldest settlement house west
of the MtsSissippi.” It had been
founded in 1895 by a follower al
J1me Addams. When lt was estabr
lisited it was already in a slum
area, and it has remained a slum
are:

'illllllillllllll

iii 1‘ “P “ei- am-

in one.

' ﬁt
withit Peep
Illlll1111111llllllllllllilllllllllllllllllllllll1111111llllllllllllllllllllllllllllll'llllllll

We talked at length with one
of the two illllrtlmB workers at the
Roadside Settlement House. He
was a Negro, originally trout Ins
diam, who had takan the job at
Roadside atter graduating train
Drake University.

He informed us that Roadside

lllllllllllililllllllillllllllilllllltllllllll'

served the entire southeast Bot- ‘

toms area—about a one square
mile area and 3,000 population. He
said that 80 per cent at the hous-
ing in the Bottoms district was
dilapidated.

“There axe over 500 living stl‘uc»
tut-es here, and only 40 have com-
plete plumbingtaoillties," he said.

,Roadsidp wan having in own

 

young Negro iinrcd. To add [0
Roadside s ti ouhln its gyiu builtl
ing had been burned out in Octo-
ber.

Tile scltlemeiit house directors.
he said, are trying to get the city
to mdke such basic improve

oun FRIEND PUNK is at the
right of the picture below.
Other members at Punk's
tsmily pose tor John Phillips
before getting on with the
chores of moving.

 

 

 

 

Eriasy..Ne_yember s, not}

ments as laying water mania {or
plumbing. paving streets to rat
plate the rotted miirl roads, and
installing adequate street lighting
to discourage crime. 50 tax
they’ve only had luck With the
street lighting requests.

Roadside IS one at five settle-
ment houses in DES Monies 'lite
other {our dl‘e located in mule
sirzlble areas.

Mother oi Font
Willing to Teiit

llllllililllllllllillll‘lllllll’:

.lllllllll=lillllllillllllllllllllltllllllllllllllllillllllllllllllllltlllllltllllllllllllllllli

We next sought out a tamily
group, and we were not surprised
to iiurl the younger people in this
area reluctant to talk. We did into
one woman who was the mother
of tour children and who was
Willing to tail: to us. Her iamily
had moved to Des Monies seven
years ago from Centerville. Her
husband worked at the J. C. White
Company. They owned their mm
house and had running water. The
womztu and her children were
dressed quite well. Only the com
dition at their home seemed out
or place. lt had the typical pieced.
together, unpainted, plastlccwiii-
clawed look of the other homes
in the area. And the yard tins
tilled with yuiilr. Des .ilouies would
include the head or (1 tnmily on
the list oi employed. ltts aiiiazmg
how you can make data look as
you want them to look.

As we were leaving for the day,
we noticed a little boy watching
us. He indicated by holding up
llngEI‘s that he was four years old.
His name, we learned later, was
“Punk.” We wondered what his
tather did. “Nothing," said Punk.
Why? we wondered. “He got shot
in the hand."

When we returned Saturday
morning, we went ﬁrst to the
house where Punk said he lived.
Punk and some other children
were being watched by B younger

~ «A W _

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

