The Clothing Department
Whilst food for the nourishment of these thousands of human bodies was of the first and highest importance, it was followed so closely by the necessity of something to cover them, that the two seemed well nigh inseparable; and while our men stood over the boxes of meats and the bags of grain, by the carload and the trainload, it was no less imperative, that some one stand by the boxes and barrels of clothing sent from, everywhere—sent by the great, warm, pitying hearts of our blessed, generous countrywomen, from the church, with its towering steeple and the soft-toned bell that calls to prayer, the blazing bazaar, with its galaxies of beauty, animate and inanimate, the dimly lighted, one little room of the woman who has toiled out all day and returns weary and heavy laden to the waiting family of little ones, who, in the midst of their own hard life and the need of much, still bless God for a fate better than those they hear of—from all of these alike come the gifts of Dorcas. In tons they come, and some one must, “stand and deliver,” as hour by hour goes out the appeal: “Closen marm—please give me some closen. I’s lost all I had!” How literally true this was may be judged by the fact that here as at Johnstown, there were those who came out of that terrific strife for life with no thread left on the body but the shirt band about the neck, which a strong, well-sewed button had served to hold.
Again, as always, we turned to our “Mistress of the Robes,” Mrs. Dr. Gardner, whose quick and clear judgment seems to double the value of all she handles. She goes to every field, helps to organize, and remains as long as the strength in her slender, wiry body permits. She left her unpretending report as far as she was able to do, or to make it:
Mrs. Gardner’s Report
On the first day of October, 1893, the American National Red Cross took charge of the relief work of the Sea Islands of South Carolina. During the month before this and just after the storm, the clothing department had been in the hands of a very efficient local committee composed of some of the most prominent ladies and gentlemen of the section around Beaufort.
In the first days after a disaster of this kind, the necessity of relief work is so great, that it is impossible to keep a correct record of supplies that pour in from every part of the country, and this was no exception, with both hearts, and hands full, distributing to the thousands of destitute who were imploring them on every hand for help, this committee had nothing to tell of what had been received.
After we took charge, a faithful record was kept, and when there was a mark of any kind to show us where the goods came from, an acknowledgment was sent at once. Many, many things came without a sign of any directions to tell where they were from. In these cases close watch was kept for any writing inside to give some clew. I have even taken the newspaper the box, barrel or parcel was lined with, and tried in that way to reach the donors.
The people of the United States are a most generous people, and yet so modest with it, that they very often miss the verification of the saying that “it is more blessed to give than to receive.” Could they stand, as do the members of the National Red Cross, and look into the glad, grateful faces of the relieved ones, there would be no need of our president sending out circulars and letters all over the country, praying that articles for the relief be plainly marked. Would it be out of place for me to urge the good people who read this report to remember this when sending to the next field?
The distribution of the clothing had to be systematically planned. Here was a territory 150 miles long by 50 miles wide, not on the main land, but on islands, surrounded by water, with the most treacherous channels, and many impossible to even get into. The people to be helped, kind and industrious, but they had been dependent from their cradles, and were in such a dazed condition, they hardly knew what had overtaken them.
The clothing, plenty of it, but all for adults. What was to become of the little waifs of the wind, rain and high tide? Evidently these goods had to be fashioned into little garments.
Bedding, comparatively none, and every few minutes the plea, “Please miss, just a little bedding to keep the chilluns warm at night.”
I have stood at my table from 7 a.m. until way into the night, opening boxes, barrels and parcels, and not one piece of bedding to come to my hands. The people on half rations, thinly clothed and nothing to keep them warm of a night.
This, as well as all other puzzling questions, were referred to our most honored president, and I have asked her to tell how she came to the rescue, and by her wise forethought not only assisted her own workers, but placed a responsibility upon the people that made them help each other, and gave them a self-respect that they would have gained in no other way.