The pressman always talked too loud; in fact, he shouted. When I asked my father why, Daddy explained that the man had to make himself heard above the presses. He had gotten so used to the din, so he seemed unable to turn down the volume even when things were quiet.
For so many people, work does not stop when the whistle blows, or the boss goes home, or the time clock punches them out. Today, technology renders us available twenty-four hours a day, or 24/7 as headlines are likely to say. No wonder, as Thoreau said, “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.”
In Gary Snyder’s “Hay is for Horses,” a farmer reflects on the path of his own working life:
“I first bucked hay when I was seventeen.
I thought, that day I started,
I sure would hate to do this all my life.
And dammit, that’s just what
I’ve gone and done.”
In Susan Yuzna’s “The Telephonist,” about the days when switching systems were manual, an operator describes working the graveyard shift as a “brand new circle of hell.” The only saving grace of hearing phones ringing for eight hours straight was simple: Having a job in a tight market was a godsend, and the union bargained for the company to pay for cab rides home when the women worked at night.
In the late eighteenth century, before the rise of labor unions, the average American worked 12-hour days and seven-day weeks to make a living. In some states, kids as young as 5 or 6 earned a fraction of the grown-ups pay, in mills, factories, and mines. Moreover, the poor and recent immigrants earned a living in unsafe conditions, lacking fresh air, sanitary bathrooms, and breaks.
One of the most poignant examples of exploitation was the 1911 Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire in New York City’s Greenwich Village. When the eighth floor of the ten-story building caught fire, workers were trapped by a locked door as flames fed upon endless bolts of fabric. A fire escape collapsed, and the fire department’s rescue ladder only extended to the sixth floor of the building.
Helpless workers hovered at broken windows and finally leaped to their death to escape the conflagration. Sometimes poetry is the best way to tell these stories. Poet Robert Pinsky put it this way:
One hundred and forty-six died in the flames
On the ninth floor, no hydrants, no fire escapes–
The witness in a building across the street
Who watched how a young man helped a girl to step
Up to the windowsill, then held her out
Away from the masonry wall and let her drop.
And then another. As if he were helping them up
To enter a streetcar, and not eternity.
Labor Day is still celebrated in cities and towns across the United States with parades, picnics, barbecues, fireworks displays and other public gatherings, but most of us mark the day as one of leisure, the last holiday of summer. Nevertheless, it is also a time to acknowledge the benefits labor unions have provided for workers over the years.
Weekends off, paid vacations and the 40-hour work week are outcomes of the collective bargaining process. Break times, including lunch, are another benefit. Paid sick leave and paid holidays, military leave, and the Family and Medical Leave Act are all byproducts of the labor movement. Even without union membership, most of us have enjoyed these positive results in our working lives.
To listen to stories of people who love the work they do, in spite of the drawbacks, go to storycorps.net. The latest StoryCorps book, “Callings: The Purpose and Passion of Work,” contains more tales from those whose jobs are more than a way to pay the bills, but also give meaning to their lives. More information is available at www.amazon.com.
Constance Alexander is a columnist, award-winning poet and playwright, and President of INTEXCommunications in Murray. She can be reached at calexander9@murraystate.edu. Or visit www.constancealexander.com.
