Death at Pullman Read Free

him he must talk to the lawyer. The lawyer has a paper with a design of the human body and he notes on it where the man is injured and then the man must sign a paper, you see, before the doctor will see him. But it is closed now because of the lockout, you see. And we’ve no medical care for the moment.”
    I heard Miss Addams cluck with annoyance at that, but she walked along, listening as our guide led us down the street, pointing out the Market Hall where all of the meat and vegetables—raised on the Pullman Company farm three miles south—were sold. It was called “Sewage Farm” because waste collected from the homes was turned into fertilizer at a company plant and used to fertilize the fields. Mr. MacGregor reported that prices were higher than in the neighboring town of Kensington. But I was impressed that the market was such a very clean and attractive place. Modern dwellings with open arches over the sidewalks formed a circle around the hall. North, to our left, we could look up a tree-lined street to the main gate and clock tower of the factory. It was a great improvement over the views we had left behind in the neighborhood of Hull House. It made me wonder why in the world would workers lucky enough to live here ever want to strike. I kept my thoughts to myself, however. Presumably that was the question we were here to investigate.
    After we all had admired the view, Mr. MacGregor led us south again, to an area where the housing was less impressive, but still well kept. They were small row houses in yellow brick. Two blocks down, a quiet crowd of men stood in front of what turned out to be Mr. MacGregor’s doorstep. They were quiet because they were being harangued by an Amazon of a woman with red hair, who was wearing a dress of midnight blue taffeta. Her back was to us.

TWO
    This sight brought our Mr. MacGregor to a halt as he moved back and forth on his feet, ruminating his next action. Meanwhile the woman’s voice rang out and a feather jiggled on the tiny hat perched on her flamboyantly colored hair.
    â€œAnd sure it’s a fine thing for all of you to be making a show of it and talking to the papers and making your lists of grievances. Grievances. I’ll show you grievances. It’s in the face of my little brother and sister here.” She gestured and I noticed the little girl hiding behind her, clinging to her bustle, and the little boy at her other side that she thrust forward with a strong left hand in the small of his back. Both children were barefoot and looked dirty. “What about them? How will they live? How will they eat, while you go on with your speeches? It’s a fine mess you’ve made. And how will you get out of it, then? Will you tell me that? It’s pride it is, and you know what that comes before. You think he’ll listen, sitting in his big fine mansion on Prairie Avenue? Do you? Do you think he’s going without his own dinner then? He’s laughing at you, you bunch of chumps. He doesn’t have to do a thing, just sit there and let you starve. You’re fools, you are. All of you.” The little feather was trembling with the woman’s fury as she stopped for a break.
    Mr. MacGregor attempted to get her attention by clearing his throat but when that made no impression he quickly called out, “Gracie.” His voice collided with hers as she took up her harangue again. The call was loud enough so that she swung around as if to defend herself from a rear attack and the sight of us stopped her, at least temporarily.
    Before she could start up again, Mr. MacGregor stepped forward. “Gracie, we have visitors. Miss Addams, Miss Cabot, and Mr. Safer have come from the Civic Federation that has offered to arbitrate.” He turned back towards us. “Mrs. Foley grew up here. She lives in the city now, so I assume she’s come for a visit.”
    The woman had frozen at the sight of us, her eyes narrowed in a