Submitted by Ray Marshall - Raymarsh@mninter.net - added October 13, 1999

October 20,. 1895, Duluth News Tribune

BOWERY OF DULUTH

A Block of Varied Sights and Sounds and Smells

THE HOME OF STREET LOUNGERS

There Are Eight Saloons and Any Number of Lodging Houses

Lake av. has been called the Bowery of Duluth,

but it can't compare with Superior st. between

Fifth and Sixth West, where the sights and the

sounds and the smells are probably more varied

and cosmopolitan than any other one block in the

city.

 

In that block there are by actual count eight

saloons, including the Famous Sailors' Home;

four restaurants, three hotels having restaurant,

bar and barber shop connections; one second

hand pawn shop, two laundries, two jewelers,

one boarding house, six clothing houses, over

one of which is a dying and cleaning

establishment; two unobtrusive black and white

signs advertising furnished rooms, two

transparencies labeled "Lodgings" and a third

bearing the high sounding title,"HOTEL

LODGIN," one tailor, two fruit stands, two cigar

stands, one poolroom, the Branch Bethel and

coffee house, a shooting gallery with candy, cigar

and soft drinks stand attachment; a twenty foot

space devoted to billboards, one grocery store,

three barber shops and one "Tonsorial Parlor."

 

This block on either side of the street is especially

adapted to the accomodation of loungers. Here

they find all their necessities, comforts and

luxuries. As a rule, though roughly dressed and

having an unwashed, unkempt appearance, they

are as quiet and well-behaved as so many

sphinxes. To a casual observer it would seem

that the groups of men who stood, hands in

pockets, staring and expectorating into space on

Sunday, were the identical groups to be seen on

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and all the other

days of the week. To be sure they ebb and flow

with the times and tides; that is meal times and

night tides. They don't stand up all the time.

There are relays to be found on the sunny side of

Sixth avenue leaning against A Friendly Saloon Corner

or sitting with their legs dangling over

the high wooden gutter or sprawled upon their

backs, all their lazy length reclined upon the

slanting board walk. Presumably, these are the

relief corps, and when their brethren standing

sentinel on the corners drop with fatigue, these

saunter forth and take their places.

 

There is one special class of lounger which

cannot possibly be mistaken for any other. The

men who work on the docks are big, brawny

fellows whose hands and garments bear the

unmistakable imprint of their toil. Their work of

unloading or loading freight boats is of the

severest nature, and well paid, the average rate

being 40 cents or 50 cents per hour. The work

requires a certain amount of skill and experience,

and during the season of navigation they must be

ready at any hour that a boat arrives to run to the

dock. That is why Sixth av. is their favorite

loafing place, and that is why the saloons on that

block are so prosperous. One man is appointed

watcher and when he sees a boat approaching

notifies the rest. In the saloons there are bulletin

boards on which arrivals of freight vessels are

posted, so that a man may be happily engaged in

unloading the beery contents of one sort of

schooner down his own thirsty throat and at the

same time keep and eye on the bulletin board for

schooners of another nature.

In the daytime, except in the coldest weather,

tousled, slipshod children play tag or roll hoops

on the streets and pavements. Sometimes they

cluster hungrily around the fruit stands.

Occasionally a ragamuffin will snatch a handful of

roasted peanuts, or perhaps the good natured

vendor will bestow upon him an overripe banana

or some other unprofitable ware.

 

At the cleaning and dying establishments out of

which it seems improbable that anything might

come without additional grime, dark-eyed

Rachels may be discerned leaning over the

wooden counter in conservation with chance

customers or Peering ThroughThe Dingy Windows.

But it is on Saturday that the real Boweryness of

the block is most in evidence. All the shops are

lighted until a late hour. The illuminations range

from kerosene to electricity. In sharp contrast

with the general brilliancy is one dimly lighted

boarding house with wide, curtainless windows,

almost flush with the sidewalk. In the center of

the room is a black and cheerless stove around

which a circle of men are usually gathered.

It is a rather depressing scene from without, but

those within seem to find the hours enjoyable

enough. They smoke their friendly pipes, laugh

and joke, and play, with the "kids" of which there

are several. After 9 o'clock the little girls

disappear, but the boys who are a year or two

older sit around, wedged comfortably into the

circle and listen to the general talk with big-eyed

interest until the sand man claims them for his

own.

All the saloons advertise free lunch, and many of

them have music, especially Saturday. So

between 9 and 10 on that night everything is in

full blast. From the pool room comes the sharp

click of billiard balls; at the shooting gallery,

which by the way is simply a tent, the target bell

clangs rudely from quick contact with a bullet

sped by some sharpshooter. The proprietors of

this place have evidently a sense of humor.

Under the low and slanting canvas roof is a

conspicuous sign which says, "Our trusting

department is on the roof. Please take the elevator."

 

At the Bethel the strains of Well Known Gospel

Hymns ring out with organ accompaniment, and

close by its side is the Sailor's Home, hoarse-

voiced men bawl noisily the ballads of the street.

They have a piano there and amateur dancers

often give exhibitions of their skill. Many of the

sailors know other dances, such as the Highland

fling. From the street one may hear the

rhythmical thud of heavy feet and fancy pictures

the weary performer and his admiring circle of

witnesses. At any rate when the dance is over

there is a yell of applause and then the next man

takes his place.

 

The Branch Bethel has a large patronage. The

reading rooms attracts a number of men who

seem to enjoy a slow and thorough perusal of the

papers and periodicals they may find there. The

nightly meetings con-ducted by Mr. Watson, the

manager, assisted by the ladies who do faithful

and volunteer service there every night, playing

the little organ, leading the hymns and the topics

of the meetings. Six hundred meals are served

daily; between three and four hundred people

taking breakfast and supper there and, when

possible, dinner. The Bethel management has

provided paper satchels for lunches, and many

working men who come For breakfast at 5:30

a.m., also purchase a lunch to take with them to

their work.

 

A flight of stairs running down to the basement of

the Zenith hotel, just below the bar room leads to

the Zenith restaurant. There is also an entrance

to the café on Michigan st, which is oftener used.

The Zenith is an all night restaurant and has a

regular patronage of night owls.

These are mostly printers, railroad men and

clerks, with a fair sprinkling of "the boys" who

make a practice of eating a light lunch sometimes

between the hours of 10 and 12 after a protracted

call at the home of the young woman of their

choice, or a spin on London road. As everyone

knows a bicycle jaunt is the sort of thing to bring

a man to the door of starvation, and these light

lunches usually include a piece of pie, two cups

of coffee, one or two sandwiches, a dish of cream

toast and a round brown doughnut for a finis. It

is not the custom here to buy cigars. He is a poor

fellow who is not willing to toss up for them.

Then the tossers "shake dice" while they smoke,

and occasionally indulge in a game of penny ante

with a ten or twenty-five cent limit. If the game

is very exciting they play till the break of day and

or until someone goes broke and won't borrow.

 

Promptly at 10 o'clock the lights in the saloons

go out and so do the patrons. In 15 minutes the

street is empty and quiet. The News Tribune

reporter returning to the office on his last trip

from the police station is conscious of an incense

of stale liquors rising on the midnight air which

envelops the whole block. There is, too, a faint

suggestion of roasted peanuts. On the opposite

curb sits the sole survivor of midnight traffic and

revelry with his portable kitchen containing

buttered sandwiches and plump warm

wienerwursts. At the sight of a possible customer

the vendor rouses from his stooping posture. And

the weird cry of "Redhots" "Redhots" echoes

down the street.

 

Note: The transcriber of this article believes it to be an expurgated version of life on the Bowery. Relation-ships with women involved things other than bicycle rides on London Road. And the percentage of those who spent their evenings at the Bethel paled miserably in comparison with those who spent their evenings in the Saloons, which in addition to serving up food and drink served as club rooms for those thousands of miles from friends and relatives and as network nodes for those looking for information on work or lodging, hopefully in their native language. Ray Marshall - Raymarsh@mninter.net

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