Clothing Branch, Hilton Head District. — Report by Mrs. Macdonald
Accustomed as I had been, in Chicago and other large cities, to see a miscellaneous assortment of rags worn under the name of clothing, I was little prepared for the sight of the almost nude condition of the great mass of people, which came to my notice on first entering on the relief work of the Sea Island Sufferers. After a couple of days and nights spent in the clothing room in Beaufort, packing barrels and boxes for the Hilton Head District, we proceeded there and amid loud exclamations of “closen” had the freight hauled to our camp. Before an hour had passed we were besieged with applicants, but as our present supply was limited, we could only attend to a few of the worst cases, and these were told to come at ten o’clock the next morning. Having already procured the information regarding the families—ages, sex and number of children—we spent the time in putting into bundles suitable clothing for such as had been told to come. Fearful of being late, they began to assemble by daylight, and as each man or woman was seen emerging, “toting” the bundle, a hum of voices would assail the lucky one with “Bress de Lawd; what ye done get?” The experience with this first installment showed that some work must be expended on the clothing before distribution, to make it more serviceable. As the men were put to work in the ditches, so the women who were able to leave their families were called on for a week’s work each in the sewing tents; a sewing machine was borrowed from one, and Miss Mary Clark (who was put in charge) assorted the garments, giving to some patching to do, to others buttons to sew on, to others apparently useless garments to make into children’s clothing. When all got steadily to work, one would commence a patter song, the rest would quickly join in, and, to the accompanying rattle of the sewing machine, work and music blended. To hear them sing, one would hardly think they had just passed through a great calamity; but it was the calm which follows the storm—they knew their troubles were over, and they were going to get “kiverin” for the “chilluns.” How they worked! Garment after garment was quickly mended, examined by Miss Clark for faults, and then placed in its proper barrel, ready for giving away. When all the clothing had been repaired, the list of needy ones was examined, and, as before, the most needy told to come the next day. But the “most needy” generally included half the island, for telegrams never flew faster than did the news that clothes were going to be issued. Then, when the last garment had been issued, some happy, some dejected, they would go away to await the next issue. So week by week, a constant stream of barrels, boxes and bundles would be received, mended and given away to those who, many of them, hardly knew what a whole garment was. Occasionally one, more crafty than the rest, would try to excite extra sympathy by producing a goodly array of “motherless chilluns,” borrowed for the occasion, in the hope of getting an extra supply, not knowing that we already knew the full number and ages of each family. The system adopted by the Red Cross of first quietly getting its information complete, and then going to work, knowing what to do and how to do it, showed its value in preventing imposition, which must always be met with to some extent, in all charitable work. In this way 3,400 garments were repaired and given away in this district, besides shoes, hats, etc.
While the sewing was in progress in one tent, I helped attend the cases in the hospital tents, and made daily calls when necessary on patients who were unable to come to me. My experience in Hahnemann Hospital, Chicago, fitted me for this part of the work. In all this work the lack of suitable supplies had to be overcome. As soon as our busiest season had passed and the sickness had abated, I opened a free school in one room of our house, expecting to teach reading, writing and arithmetic to ten pupils. The attendance rose almost immediately to forty and we gave up another room to the use of the school, and I had one of the older pupils assist me with the younger ones. To Mr. Proudfit, of Morristown, N.J., are due our thanks for his generous contributions, enabling us to purchase slates, books and other school supplies.
Warehouse and Shipping Department
In introducing the dual reports of Dr. E.W. Egan, I imagine that I realize something of the feeling of the Queen of Sheba when she proclaimed that the half had not been told. The practical, unswerving and unique method of procedure pursued by Dr. Egan with these thousands of ignorant, hungry wards and waifs would constitute an interesting study for the most advanced philanthropist. The problem, as he tersely states it, of how to make thirty thousand dollars feed and shelter thirty thousand people a year, was not easily solved; and yet, largely under his original calculation and undeviating faithfulness to his own plans, it was solved, and how successfully, all the years from that time to this have testified. The medical aid which he established among these poor, deluded sufferers was as if an advanced clinic from his Alma Mater, Jefferson College, or the University of Pennsylvania, had been suddenly opened in their midst. The old dislocated joints, broken bones, tumors, internal diseases, carried about and dragged on through years of pain, disappeared; they literally took up their beds and walked. Their faithful hearts, like their eyes, followed him in admiring confidence, as with hurried step and quick glance he passed among the distributers of the warehouse; and if he told them that a pound of meat and a peck of grits was enough for a week—all they could have and must be supplemented either by work, if obtainable, or fish or game, if it could be caught—there was no complaint, no demur: “The doctor said so, and it was all right.”
It is a comfort to me as I write to know that his skillful hand is now on the keys that have for such weary months locked in the untold agonies of the terrible dens in western Cuba, designated, for the lack of some more appropriate term, as “hospitals.”
Report by E. Winfield Egan, M.D.
The first official word of the Port Royal Relief Field, ambiguously called the Sea Island Relief Field, came to Dr. J.B. Hubbell, the general field agent of the American National Red Cross, with whom it was my privilege to be at Indianapolis, attending the annual reunion of the Grand Army, where, for the first time in the history of that organization, the Red Cross of Geneva took its place upon the arms of the surgeons, the ambulances and the tents which were regularly distributed along the line of march. Twenty-four hours found us en route to Beaufort, S.C., which was to be the headquarters of the American National Red Cross, through its year of effort to take care of 30,000 human beings living upon the islands, known as the “Sea Island” or Old Port Royal group, as they were called during the war, lying off the coast of South Carolina, between Charleston and Savannah, and which had been devastated by that memorable cyclone of August 27, 1893.
I reported to the president, at headquarters, for duty the twenty-eighth day of September, 1893. Upon arrival I found the president and field secretary quartered in an unused club house, using parts of billiard tables for dining purposes, desks made of dry goods boxes, crude furniture made in a day and nicely upholstered with manila paper—in short, it was camping out indoors.
The local relief committee was still in charge, Miss Barton and her staff meeting with them by invitation as an advisory board.
The Red Cross headquarters was the scene of busy census takers; men from every part of the field were constantly coming and going, bringing reports of the number of people, their condition, the condition of their homes and their needs.
Their reports were being carefully indexed and entered upon one great book for future reference, a record of the greatest relief field America has ever known.
October 2, came my “marching orders” which were, “Take charge of the warehouse and stores, make an inventory of them, disperse these men and rid this city of the demoralizing influence of idle people.” The doors were closed and preparations for an inventory begun.
The manner of distribution previous to November 2, though performed by willing workers, was not, could not be, that systematic distribution which comes only after years of experience.
The warehouse had to be cleaned, partitioned, shelved and made ready for the repacking, separating heavy from light goods, and getting ready for receiving and shipping. The inventory showed not enough food to keep ten families two weeks.
On November 9, the doors of all the departments at headquarters were opened. The question of remuneration for workmen’s services must be determined upon and a standard adopted. There were at headquarters twenty-five workmen in-doors—white and colored—beside the cartmen and out-door laborers.
A standard of fifty cents in value was adopted for a day’s work and was given in flour, meal, grits, pork, or whatever there was in the storeroom at the end of each day, and the next day an entirely new set of men was employed, and this daily change lasted over a month, thus distributing to over a thousand people something beside the regular weekly distribution.
Women were engaged to sew sacks and other light work (just as necessary as heavier), and they were paid in the same manner and at the same rate as men. Will some of my readers think that these women, some with large families to support, and all having some one depending upon them, should receive less than the men, because they were women?
Shovels, spades and axes came in a few days in response to an order from our president, and men were put upon the public roads to clear and improve their condition and repair the damage which the storm had done.
The tools were all marked before they left headquarters with a Greek cross—on the steel or iron part they were stamped with a steel die and the wood handles were burned with an iron die.
This marking served many purposes. There was an indescribable respect for the Red Cross among the people it served and its insignia was its representative which meant a great deal for them.
It removed a temptation; they were instructed that those implements were only loaned and must not see idle days, and were to be passed on to the next workmen when their labors were finished. The marking made them undesirable property and none were lost, though hundreds were at work all the time. Many were broken, and the pieces were returned to headquarters, mended and put into circulation again.
Other sets of workmen were those who opened old drains and made new ones through the low farming portions of the islands. These men generally worked one week in relays of twelve. (A more detailed account of these drains will be found in the general field agent’s report.) Six months later, when the high water came, a few who had refused to go into these relays of workmen and open the drains, lost much of their crop—could a rebuke have been more eloquent?
All the workmen were paid from headquarters through their overseer, who received the clothing, grits and meat, and proportioned it to each man. In all cases where a man worked, he received the regular weekly allowance of one peck of grits and one pound of meat, in addition to what he received for his work.
The spirit shown by these people, after they had been instructed in the demoralizing effect of free and plenteous distribution, was remarkable: they did not beg for food, they asked for work, and the Red Cross made work for them.
The relief supply was received at three points: the railroad station, about one and a quarter miles from headquarters, the steamer “Pilot Boy,” bringing goods from Charleston, and the “Alpha,” bringing a few goods from Savannah. Freight was brought to headquarters in small carts drawn by horses or cattle of any kind, and it was always an interesting sight to the stranger: the animals were driven with a bit, with ropes for harness, and in most instances the bend of a tree had been sawed out and used as saddles, on which were ropes or wire holding up the shafts, with burlap or crudely made cushions to protect the animal’s back—all indications of the primitive condition of a people who were to be the wards of the Red Cross for a year, but who were also to be given an object lesson in practical life which was more to them, more to the country, than the little allowance of grits and meat to which they must add something more to support their families. “They must not eat the bread of idleness,” said our president. “We must not leave a race of beggars, but teach them the manliness of self-support, and methods of self-dependence.”
The distributing was done through sub-committee men, representing anywhere from five people into the hundreds. They were the appointees of the local relief committee and retained to the end of the field, with but few exceptions. They came weekly, tri-monthly and monthly; those who came thirty and forty miles in crude boats were given supplies enough to last a month, for it was a long and sometimes difficult journey.
Each sub-committee man presented himself at headquarters and was referred, in his turn, to the main office, where an order was issued for whatever the notes of the investigating committee called for—grits, meat, nails, hatchets, saws, lumber and clothing the most frequent.
These orders were brought to the shipping room, where they were filled, marked with name of sub-committee man, his address and a Red Greek Cross, the insignia which would entitle it to protection and many times free transport to its destination. A complete record of this was made in the shipping room.
A most important step was the uniform issue to each person on the Red Cross books. How was it to be done? What could be done? All important questions were as familiar to each officer as his own department questions. The president would call her staff together (and many times it was in the small hours of the morning) and present the question for consideration. It was at one of these meetings the fact had been presented that the prime problem was “How to feed 30,000 people with $30,000 for one year?” It was evident that they must be provided with a way to produce something themselves, and to this end all assistance was given.
One peck of grits and one pound of pork to a family of seven for one week was the regular Red Cross supply, and this was given to all who needed assistance, and the laboring men received one peck and one pound for their work.
The description given us of the negro on our arrival was not flattering. “He cannot be trusted!” “He’ll steal anything he can get!” “You can’t make him work!” and similar expressions came from all sides. But Miss Barton had seen the negro before and knew the best way to lift him up, and her wisdom was manifest all through that field, as the splendid gardens (producing more than the people could eat or sell), the mended condition of the clothing, the division of cottages into rooms, the carefully selected, bottled and labeled seeds for next year’s planting, and the general elevation of their habits proved beyond argument.
They were treated like gentlemen and they felt the responsibility. They were trusted and told so, and they lived up to the trust. They were shown the necessity of work, and they worked like men and women. No race of people could have borne their affliction better, more cheerfully (they are pre-eminently a cheerful, happy people) and with less record of crime than did these 30,000 people, the vast majority of whom were negroes.
One important and erroneous impression among some of the less intelligent was that seeds were of little account which they raised in their own garden, and the proper procedure was to buy each year from the merchants “new and good seeds,” and that practice was common.
One day one of the sub-committee men brought in a very large, magnificent onion, and with some pride presented it as a result of his work, and said, “Miss Barton, if I could git some ob dat y’ar seed, I reckon I could raise onyun ’nough to pay fo a critter nex’ year.”
“Well,” said Miss Barton, “do you think you could not raise seeds enough from those onions?”
“Oh, bress you, no marm. You see dem ain’ good what we raise; we has to buy de seed.”
Then followed a long explanation and agricultural logic such as Jack Owen (for that is his name) had never heard before, and when he left he said: “To tink dat I could’n know befo’ dat a good onyun mus’ bring good seed, and dat good seed mus’ bring good onyun. I sabe my seed now, sho.”
When he returned to his plantation, he called his neighbors together and gave them as many of the instructive points as he could remember, and they now plant seeds of their own raising and have established, in a very crude way, an exchange of seeds from “up country” and neighboring islands.
An early crop was of great importance to the wards of the Red Cross, and our president began to look around for white potatoes, knowing their early productiveness. The merchants said the soil would not raise them; the negro would not take care of them; they did not know what they were, and if they did raise them, they would not eat them.
Inquiry showed them to cost $5.00 per barrel, and was it any wonder they did not eat them?
In the face of all this opposition Miss Barton ordered over one thousand bushels of white potatoes for planting. These were brought to headquarters and cut into small pieces (each having an eye or sprout)—a novel sight, the forty women cutting potatoes for seed. These were distributed from headquarters and from the two Red Cross sub-stations—Wadmalaw Island and Hilton Head Island—representing respectively the northern and southern end of the district. It is almost needless to add that the potatoes were planted, from which a fine crop was raised and eaten, and the people were grateful.
Corn for planting was another important distribution; 2200 bushels of corn were distributed, and a second crop raised by many who had never asked mother earth for more than one crop. There were many doubts among the people as to the possibility of a second crop, so a second planting was urged to get the fodder for their cattle, and the full corn in the ear rewarded their second planting.