MS6.3779 Jpgs

Chicago Waifs' Mission Messengers. CHICAGO, July 27, 1893. WHERE SENT-Hon. William F. Cody. ADDRESS-Buffalo Bill's Wild West. P AID And still in debt. CHARGES-None for life. WAIFS OF CHICAGO. (Signature of Sender.) Per T. E. DANIELS, Director General Poor Children's Day.

On the reverse side of the card is this inscription:

"A slight expression of our gratitude for your efforts in behalf of Poor Children's Day, 1883."

Preparations for the Day. For weeks past preparations have been making for Poor Children's day. Urgent appeals, magnificently responded to, were made the charitably inclined to see that the waifs had enough to eat and to wear, and for weeks the mission rooms on State street have had every appearance of a wholesale clothing establishment. Boxes and bundles of wearing apparel were everywhere and yesterday and the day before the boxes of food were sent in. There were countless thousands of them. They came from everywhere in the city and filled the mission storerooms. The contents of these packages went a long way toward rounding out the day and filling it chock full of joy. As early as 8 o'clock children from the Waifs' mission, Chicago Hebrew mission, Unity Church Industrial school, Home for the Friendless, Chicago Nursery and Half Orphan asylum, Englewood nursery, and the Jewish Training school began gatherings

THE LEAP RACE. at Madison and Market streets. It took nearly an hour to get the little folks in line, and when they finally started for the Van Buren street depot of the Illinois Central road it was in the following order:

Order of the Parade. Police. Professor Hensler's American Cadet band, of Milwaukee. Director General T. E. Daniels and aids, as follows: J. L. Mulgreen, marshal; Theodore Murphy, Walter Martin, William Fritts, George Glisby, Walter Courlin, William Hein, George W. Brock, Albert Hagaland, Thomas Fitzpatrick, Georgė Bamberger, Roscoe J. Clizbie. Waifs' mission girls in tally-ho coaches. Chicago Home for the Friendless, Miss A. F. Rexford, superintendent. Major Nevans' Illinois State band. Waifs' mission messengers. Waifs' mission boys. Newsboys' home, Mrs. Bowman, matron. Chicago Hebrew mission. B. Angel, superintendent. Unity church industrial school, Ada J. Hayes. matron. Chicago Musical Association band Englewood nursery, Mrs. Kingman, matron. Waifs' mission express. First regiment band. Newspaper boys. Tailing on to the procession was a crowd of several hundred ragtag and bobtail, not belonging to. anything in particular, but coming, with unmistakable propriety, under the general head of "poor children." They were every whit as proud and as happy as though they marched under a banner all their own, and were just as eager as their fellows to "get there." Loading the Trains. Arriving at the Van Buren street viaduct the boys and girls were shot down a chute specially reserved for them, leading to trains which were in waiting to convey them to Sixty-fourth street. As one train was filled and pulled out another took its place, until four trains of five cars each had been loaded and dispatched. It was a noisy crowd that disembarked at Sixty-fourth, but the marshals got the youngsters in order finally, and walked them over to the vast open space bounded by Sixty-second. Sixty-third, Stony Island avenue and the Illinois Central tracks. The title of this plat rests in J. Irving Pierce's name, but the waifs owned it yesterday. They improvised a diamond and played baseball and carried out a long programme of running races. These were arranged in fifteen classes, ranging from fifty to 300 yards, each class having five prizes. There were special classes for the girls. Besides the running races the list of sports included a sack race, a potato race, and a competitive boot-blacking contest. All these sporting eveņts were entered into with the greatest gusto, the list being concluded just about the time dinner was announced. And such a dinner! It is doubtful if a Chicago waif ever saw its like before. It was served in pasteboard boxes instead of courses, but the guests were not there so much for style as for the purpose of appeasing a large and healthy appetite. Literally everything went, and the mystery was that even 10,000 children, could hold so much. Nobody counted the wagon-loads of boxes and hampers, or the barrels of lemonade. After each 1little jacket was comfortably distended the Arabs were rounded up and taken over to Buffalò Bill's. They would have liked to be headed the other way first and taken into The Fair grounds, but this pleasure was denied them. Mrs. Potter Palmer made an urgent plea in their behalf some time ago, and this was supplemented by other appeals calculated to soften the heart of anybody but an exposi-

[Image] OPENING THE LUCH BOXES tion manager, but none available. President Higtinbothan is quoted as saving that he did not care to throw the grounds open to such undesirable guests So the tittle men and women took in the

Herald July 28'

HAPPY DAY FOR WAIFS

ANNUAL OUTING FOR STREET ARABS.

Ten Thousand Homeless Boys Enjoy a Ride to Jackson Park, a Bountiful Dinner a nd a Special Performance at Buffalo Bill's Show.

Ten thousand street waifs were given an outing yesterday. Massing on the lake front they were taken to the exposition grounds by the Illinois Central Railroad, with a half dozen bands and an escort of police. The boys were not as ragged and dirty and hungry as usual, for they had been thoroughly scrubbed and decently clothed in garments contributed by the people of Chicago. But they were just as hilarious and noisy as ever. Dinner was served at a buffet counter nailed up on the common near the Sixty-second street entrance. The shed looked like a corral, with the inside packed to the ceiling with paper boxes. Here were stacked 10,000 luncheons, great wads of dry stuff running the whole gamut of pastry and the kinds of meat from sausage to dried beef. Each bundle con

tained doughnuts and pie and hunks of dry cake and a cluster of pickles. There were crackers about the edges and bread in the corners and enough in each for a farm hand.

The delivery was begun as soon as the boys scrambled down from the trains. Superintendent Daniels, with a frantic demeanor and a big cane, stood guard at the head of the line and urged the youngsters to be circumspect and thoroughly observant of the established code of society's dinner laws. He wanted no jamming, no grabbing, no yelling, no pushing, no scrapping, no hauling, no stealing. He got all of them.

Raid on the Commissary.

Like a herd of stampeded steers the mob swooped down on his shanty and nearly captured the diggin's outright. They crawled under the walls, sneaked through the cracks and snapped their fingers in the faces of the score of officers, who were powerless. They guyed the law and punched its upholders and laughed since they knew the policemen were only a bluff. It was

(DRAWING) THEY SAW THE WORLD'S FAIR FROM THE OUTSIDE.

their picnic and they purposed to run it. Superintendent Daniels looked fierce, but it did not squelch the boys: They knew he did not mean his threats and that murder was the only crime which would cause their punishment.

Well, the word was given and the rush started. In a single file the long row which turned and returned and lapped upon itself for a length as long as ten blocks began to move through the place where a single board left off made a door. On either side of the sluiceway were busy women and scurrying mên who doled out the dinners: Slowly the boys walked, but they were double-quicked by the push behind, a long string of empty stomachs which had not seen food since early dawn. Many pinched bodies had not been full since the last armory feed, and those near the tail of the procession grew frantic. They fought and mauled and pummeled, but always crowded. Little chaps were squeezed out by bigger ones and the hobbly fellows fell back at the onslaught of the stout. Like straw from a thrasher the line emerged from the kraal, each face hidden deep behind some fat lump of something. There was no shade, so down in the sun the host flopped. Acres were soon black with grinning faces, faces that cared not for the blistering sun which beat down upon them as it does on the backs of the brown sons of the Sahara.

Each face opened and closed with the greed and speed of a famished man and each face's cheeks swelled out with mouthfuls which the throat could not handle. Pickles, pie and cake, doughnuts, crackers and bologna went down at single gulps, while the little fellows were as happy as veriest epicures. One bundle did not fill some stomachs, so the thrifty youngsters entered the line and received second portions.

It took an hour for the procession to pass the entrance. It took ten minutes for each boy to swallow his rations. Then came the lemonade. Lusty men with sugar by the barrel and lemons by the bushel and water by the tank worked with swift arms over rivers of rich, fat lemonade. They stirred the beverage with long poles and hesitated

(DRAWING) MR. JOHNSTON STARTS THE RACES.

not on the ingredients. Nothing was spared, since generosity had provided most lavishly. All a boy had to do was run around the block and get into place and the luscious drink was his. They again rushed through the crevasse and each boy lifted his tin cup. He was allowed but a second, and choking and strangling the chaps piled out and stretched their legs again in the sun. They were full of victuals and drink, and in an hour life had put on all the rosy tints of the delightful existence of a dilettante.

Contests for Misfit Prizes.

The games were called, a great list of perspiring sports which had entries of a score or more contestants for each event. Judges were selected, but so pell-mell was the excitement and so confusing the noise nobody could tell who won. There were prizes appropriate and prizes ridiculous-silver cake basket for a colored racer and a pickle dish for a boy without pickles. A long, lean youngster, with a face like a pirate, lugged off a roll of music, and an urchin of dismal countenance secured a set of silver forks. A bath and a place to sleep would have served him better. But the boys didn't mind. They ran and jumped, and climbed and drenched themselves in the heat, and for once, at least, had a jolly good time.

Some man sounded a bugle. Like a rally

ing army or the hosts at the echo of the trumpet on the last day, the boys flocked to their feet and made a rush. The blast came from over by the Wild West show, and the multitude imagined it was wanted there. Whooping like hoodlums, they scattered like a cyclone, filling the entrance to the ground until it seemed there must be a panic. Major Burke came out in a wild state, and only by rapid action saved the crush from tramping down those next the entrance. It was two hours before the beginning of the performance, but nothing else was possible. The big gates were thrown up and in rushed the mob. In five minutes as many thousand had rushed into the grand stands, and in fifteen minutes the wide-reaching rows of seats were black with children. They didn't

[Drawing] THE BIGGEST LITTLE BOY OF YESTERDAY.

care if they were too early, but put in the moments in an uproarious din. They stamped and squealed and wrangled and quarreled and waited.

Pleased With the Performance.

In two hours the show began and then it was the worst came. Each feature pleased the multitude better than the one preceding, and catching the noisy spell of the occasion the performers added mightily to the din. In the midst Superintendent Daniels and a boy on crutches walked to the center of the ring. The boy carried a red case, and when Colonel Cody rode up to meet them the boy handed it to the gallant fighter. The box contained a handsome gold medal, and as the recipient lifted it to view the whole place was filled with an earth-shaking shout. When the cheer had ended the colonel said he could only ask the boys to be good and happy, and then to the grown people he said he had opened his gates to every charitable institution in the city, and by making the poor happy he added to his own contentment. Presently the show was ended and into the cars swarmed the youngsters, homeward bound.

When it is stated that the line set out in the foregoing order it must be borne in mind that the word order " is not to be emphasized. It was bad enough at first, but when the parade had about half passed the Palmer House someone threw a double handful of pennies into the center of the line. There was a chorus of whoops, a wild scramble, and the line melted into a chaos of legs and arms; flags were trailed in the dust, while teachers and marshals became frantic with desperation. When the pennies were taken care of the parade continued to the Illinois Central Station. Here the children were loaded into special trains and taken to Sixty- third street. At Sixty-second street and Stony Island avenue is a tract of vacant ground. Here a booth was erected for serving the lunches and here the races, fourteen in number, came off.

There were races for big girls ard races for little girls, races for big boys and races for little boys. When the race for boys 8 to 12 years was called three boys stepped forth, among them being Bill. If Bill has any other name he does not know it. But what Bill lacks in appellation he makes up in self conceit Bill prides himself especially on his abilities as a sprinter. He can outrun anything on two legs, so he says, and he gave it out cold some days ago that the first prize in his class was as good as his then. On the way down yesterday Bill circulated among his acquaintances, giving them tips that if they wanted a sure thing to put all their spare cash on him.

Bill and his competitors lined up with right feet advanced, fists clinched, and mouths open. The starter began, "One----"

As he uttered the word Bill gave a bound into the air, alighted six feet in front of the line, dug his bare toes into the earth, and off he went. He went down that track like a comet with the toothache, sending up a perfect shower of sand and gravel and chips. The spectators yelled, and the more they yelled the faster Bill ran. Bill passed over the finishing line like a flash. Then he looked back. The other two boys were still standing at the other end of the line. It was a false start. Bill was too exhausted to move, so he shrank into the silence of oblivion, from whence he had the unspeakable mortification of seeing a little, insignificant boy who didn't look as if he could outrun a mud turtle bear off the prize.

The Rush for the Lunch.

About this time it was discovered that the issuing of lunches bad begun. A wild rush ensued that swept the ropes around the race track, policemen, and everything else in its way before it. A line a block in length was formed. It was a block long at first, but in two minutes the eagerness of those in the rear compressed it into less than half that length. The boys in the front of the line were flattened out like shingles, The objective point was a slit in the wail of a rude board shanty barely wide enough for a boy to squeeze through. A policeman stood on either side of the slit passing the boys through. Nearby were a dozen policemen gesticulating and shouting in a vain endeavor to induce the larger portion of the crowd to get in line. Finding they could do nothing in this way they devoted their efforts to gathering up every small and sickly looking boy they could see, picking them up bodily and planting them in the front of the line where they would have the first chance at the lunch. Inside the shanty was a mountain of pasteboard boxes, around which were fifty women. It was quick work. The boys were hustled along so fast that before they could grasp the situation they would emerge from the other side of the shanty with a box of cold victuals and a dazed look. The girls were passed through a separate entrance.

Then came the banquet. The children ate until they were tired. They ate until they were in misery. After the feast the children lined up for the lemonade, which was issued in the same way as the lunches. Each child was given a huge tin cupful of the nicest lemonade made out of sure-enough lemons and real water. Now, one cup full was enough to satisfy the stomach of any boy, but it wouldn't satiate the eye. Those big barrels of beverage looked so tempting that the boys would slip around and squeeze into line whenever they could press into the shanty again. Supt. Daniels is usually keen-eyed enough, but somehow he did not seem to detect the repeaters. He would smile on them benignantly and the attendants would hand out a brimming cup. The repeaters would take a greedy swallow, look astonished, spit, hesitate, then set down the cup and walk out wearing a mystified look that was touching to behold. And Supt. Daniels would turn aside and bestow a wink upon himself. The attendants served the repeaters out of the barrels in which cups were rinsed. It was perfectly delightful around for the boys thought they were coming it over Supt. Daniels, while Supt. Daniels knew he was playing it low down on the boys.

They Capture the Wild West.

It was intended to form in line and march into the Wild West show in a body. That is to say, Supt. Daniels and some more of the older people who have had a whole life in which to see circuses planned it that way. But at 12:30 o'clock the children began to gather at the gate, though the performance did not begin until 3 o'clock. In ten minutes a stampede for the gate began that even the news of the arrival of two wagonloads of ice cream could not stem. At 12:50 the gates, though they had been braced extra strong, yielded before the sheer weight of numbers, and whooping and yelling like mad the children raced in. The only thing to do was to guide them to the space reserved.

The din inside during the long wait was simply deafening. Every time a man's head was seen down near the entrance a great shout would go up and the boys would jump to their feet. They stamped, they clapped their hands, they talked at the top of their, voices, they whistled, they sang, they yelled. They took the appearance of the Indians in tie grand entry in comparative quiet, the French and German soldier stirred their blood a little and the cowboys roused them to enthusiasm, which was increased by the appearance of the United States cavalry. But when Buffalo Bill galloped in they just went wild. They rose, swung their caps and hats, and screamed until they were exhausted. Col. Cody smiled and waved his hat at them and the cheers burst out louder than ever. Every time he appeared the scene was repeated.

After the Deadwood mail had been captured and rescued came something that does not take place every day, Buffalo Bill was sent for. He galloped up on his handsome charger. Supt. Daniels stepped forward, supported on his right by a diminutive messenger in uniform from the Waifs' Mission and on his right a picturesquely dirty t.rchin, with only one leg. But a pair of sparkling brown eyes and a keen countenance showed beneath the dirt. The messenger was James Durgan, the one legged boy was John Tartuffe. Supt. Daniels expressed the gratitude of all the boys and girls there for the rich treat Col. Cody bad given them, Then little Johnny balanced himself on his crutch and, reaching up a small box to the figure on horseback, piped: "Here, Bill Here's somep'n from de gang."

Bill bowed his acknowledgments and took the "somep'n." It proved to be a red morocco case containing a plate of solid gold, 3x6 inches, in imitation of a messenger ticket. The obverse bore this inscription:

CHICAGO WAIFS MISSION TRAINING SCHOOL. CHICAGO, July 27, 1893.

Where Sent... Hon. William F. Cody. Address....Buffalo Bili's Wild West. Paid.....And Still in Debt Charges.....None for Life. ................................... WAIFS OF CHICAGO. Signature of sender, Per T. E. DANIELS, Director-General Poor Children's Day.