Chapter: MEN'S SOCIAL WORK, LONDON



THE MIDDLESEX STREET SHELTER

The first of the London Institutions of the Salvation Army which I
visited was that known as the Middlesex Street Shelter and Working
Men's Home, which is at present under the supervision of Commissioner
Sturgess. This building consists of six floors, and contains sleeping
accommodation for 462 men. It has been at work since the year 1906,
when it was acquired by the Army with the help of that well-known
philanthropist, the late Mr. George Herring.

Of the 462 men accommodated daily, 311 pay 3d. for their night's
lodging, and the remainder 5d. The threepenny charge entitles the
tenant to the use of a bunk bedstead with sheets and an American cloth
cover. If the extra 2d. is forthcoming the wanderer is provided with a
proper bed, fitted with a wire spring hospital frame and provided with
a mattress, sheets, pillow, and blankets. I may state here that as in
the case of this Shelter the building, furniture and other equipment
have been provided by charity, the nightly fees collected almost
suffice to pay the running expenses of the establishment. Under less
favourable circumstances, however, where the building and equipment
are a charge on the capital funds of the Salvation Army, the
experience is that these fees do not suffice to meet the cost of
interest and maintenance.

The object of this and similar Shelters is to afford to men upon the
verge of destitution the choice between such accommodation as is here
provided and the common lodging-house, known as a 'kip house,' or the
casual ward of a workhouse. Those who avail themselves of these
Shelters belong, speaking generally, to the destitute or nearly
destitute classes. They are harbours of refuge for the unfortunates
who find themselves on the streets of London at nightfall with a few
coppers or some other small sum in their pockets. Many of these social
wrecks have sunk through drink, but many others owe their sad position
to lack or loss of employment, or to some other misfortune.

For an extra charge of 1d. the inmates are provided with a good
supper, consisting of a pint of soup and a large piece of bread, or of
bread and jam and tea, or of potato-pie. A second penny supplies them
with breakfast on the following morning, consisting of bread and
porridge or of bread and fish, with tea or coffee.

The dormitories, both of the fivepenny class on the ground floor and
of the threepenny class upstairs, are kept scrupulously sweet and
clean, and attached to them are lavatories and baths. These lavatories
contain a great number of brown earthenware basins fitted with taps.
Receptacles are provided, also, where the inmates can wash their
clothes and have them dried by means of an ingenious electrical
contrivance and hot air, capable of thoroughly drying any ordinary
garment in twenty minutes while its owner takes a bath.

The man in charge of this apparatus and of the baths was one who had
been picked up on the Embankment during the past winter. In return for
his services he received food, lodging, clothes and pocket-money to
the amount of 3s. a week. He told me that he was formerly a commercial
traveller, and was trying to re-enter that profession or to become a
ship's steward. Sickness had been the cause of his fall in the world.

Adjoining the downstairs dormitory is a dining and sitting-room for
the use of those who have taken bed tickets. In this room, when I
visited it, several men were engaged in various occupations. One of
them was painting flowers. Another, a watch repairer, was apparently
making up his accounts, which, perhaps, were of an imaginary nature. A
third was eating a dinner which he had purchased at the food bar. A
fourth smoked a cigarette and watched the flower artist at his work. A
fifth was a Cingalese who had come from Ceylon to lay some grievance
before the late King. The authorities at Whitehall having investigated
his case, he had been recommended to return to Ceylon and consult a
lawyer there. Now he was waiting tor the arrival of remittances to
enable him to pay his passage back to Ceylon. I wondered whether the
remittances would ever be forthcoming. Meanwhile he lived here on
7-1/2d. a day, 5d. for his bed and 2-1/2d. for his food. Of these and
other men similarly situated I will give some account presently.

Having inspected the upper floors I descended to the basement, where
what are called the 'Shelter men' are received at a separate entrance
at 5.30 in the afternoon, and buying their penny or halfpennyworth of
food, seat themselves on benches to eat. Here, too, they can sit and
smoke or mend their clothes, or if they are wet, dry themselves in the
annexe, until they retire to rest. During the past winter of 1909 400
men taken from the Embankment were sheltered here gratis every night,
and were provided with soup and bread. When not otherwise occupied
this hall is often used for the purpose of religious services.

I spoke at hazard with some of those who were sitting about in the
Shelter. A few specimen cases may be interesting. An old man told me
that he had travelled all over the world for fifty years, especially
in the islands of the South Pacific, until sickness broke him down. He
came last from Shanghai, where he had been an overseer on railway
work, and before that from Manila. Being incapacitated by fever and
rheumatism, and possessing 1,500 dollars, he travelled home,
apparently via India and Burma, stopping a while in each country.
Eventually he drifted to a lodging-house, and, falling ill there, was
sent to the Highgate Infirmary, where, he said, he was so cold that he
could not stop. Ultimately he found himself upon the streets in
winter. For the past twelve months he had been living in this Shelter
upon some help that a friend gave him, for all his own money was gone.
Now he was trying to write books, one of which was in the hands of a
well-known firm. He remarked, pathetically, that they 'have had it a
long time.' He was also waiting 'every day' for a pension from
America, which he considered was due to him because he fought in the
Civil War.

Most of these poor people are waiting for something.

This man added that he could not find his relatives, and that he
intended to stop in the Shelter until his book was published, or he
could 'help himself out.'

The next man I spoke to was the flower artist, whom I have already
mentioned, whose work, by the way, if a little striking in colour, was
by no means bad, especially as he had no real flowers to draw from. By
trade he was a lawyer's clerk; but he stated that, unfortunately for
him, the head partner of his firm went bankrupt six years before, and
the bad times, together with the competition of female labour in the
clerical department, prevented him from obtaining another situation,
so he had been obliged to fall back upon flower painting. He was a
married man, but he said, 'While I could make a fair week's money,
things were comfortable, but when orders fell slack I was requested to
go, as my room was preferable to my company, and being a man of
nervous temperament I could not stand it, and have been here ever
since'--that was for about ten weeks. He managed to make enough for
his board and lodging by the sale of his flower-pictures.

A third man informed me that he had opened twenty-seven shops for a
large firm of tobacconists, and then left to start in business for
himself; also he used to go out window-dressing, in which he was
skilled. Then, about nine years ago, his wife began to drink, and
while he was absent in hospital, neglected his business so that it
became worthless. Finally she deserted him, and he had heard nothing
of her since. After that he took to drink himself. He came to this
Shelter intermittently, and supported himself by an occasional job of
window-dressing. The Salvation Army was trying to cure this man of his
drinking habits.

A fourth man, a Eurasian, was a schoolmaster in India, who drifted to
this country, and had been for four years in the Colney Hatch Asylum.
He was sent to the Salvation Army by the After Care Society. He had
been two years in the Shelter, and was engaged in saving up money to
go to America. He was employed in the Shelter as a scrubber, and also
as a seller of food tickets, by which means he had saved some money.
Also he had a L5 note, which his sister sent to him. This note he was
keeping to return to her as a present on her birthday! His story was
long and miserable, and his case a sad one. Still, he was capable of
doing work of a sort.

Another very smart and useful man had been a nurse in the Army Medical
Corps, which he left some years ago with a good character.
Occasionally he found a job at nursing, and stayed at the Shelter,
where he was given employment between engagements.

Yet another, quite a young person, was a carman who had been
discharged through slackness of work in the firm of which he was a
servant. He had been ten weeks in the Institution, to which he came
from the workhouse, and hoped to find employment at his trade.

In passing through this building, I observed a young man of foreign
appearance seated in a window-place reading a book, and asked his
history. I was told that he was a German of education, whose ambition
it is to become a librarian in his native country. He had come to
England in order to learn our language, and being practically without
means, drifted into this place, where he was employed in cleaning the
windows and pursued his studies in the intervals of that humble work.
Let us hope that in due course his painstaking industry will be
rewarded, and his ambition fulfilled.

All these cases, and others that I have no space to mention, belonged
to the class of what I may call the regular 'hangers-on' of this
particular Shelter. As I visited it in the middle of the day, I did
not see its multitude of normal nightly occupants. Of such men,
however, I shall be able to speak elsewhere.

 Now that Sassoon has arrived at the hospital, he meets with Rivers to talk over tea. Having tea gives Rivers a chance to evaluate the mental state of his patient. The two men have a pleasant conversation. Sassoon tells Rivers that the medical board has been rigged; the decision to send him to a mental hospital was made before the Board even evaluated him. It is easier for the Board to pass his letter off as madness rather than admit that it represents a valid charge against the government. Sassoon admits that he does not have any religious reason for opposing the war; he is merely horrified at the senseless brutality of it. Sassoon tells Rivers about some of his hallucinations about corpses, and about some of the things he was asked to do in the war. He admits that he no longer hates the Germans. Rather, he hates the complacent civilians at home who allow the war to go on, completely blind to the atrocities it entails. Sassoon asks Rivers if he thinks that he is mad; Rivers replies no, of course not. Nevertheless, Rivers informs Sassoon that he cannot be impartial; as a psychiatrist in the mental hospital, it is his duty to convince Sassoon to return to the war. At dinner that night, Rivers admits to Bryce that he likes Sassoon very much. He finds him impressive and completely in his right state of mind. Sassoon finds it hard to make conversation with the other patients, who have actual "shell- shock. At dinner, a "thin, yellow-skinned" man named Burns starts to vomit. He is removed and taken to his room by the nurses, or VADs. Rivers goes to visit Burns, who is extremely thin and has not been able to eat since he arrived. In the war, Burns was thrown into the air by a shell and landed face first in the gas-filled stomach of a German corpse. When he awoke, he realized that his nose and mouth were filled with rotting flesh; he has not been able to eat since. Rivers reflects that Burns's suffering has been without dignity.

