I have spectacular news! Upton Sinclair just published his book called The Jungle. I bought it and read it in one night. I encourage everyone to go out and read it.
I have been interviewing random people on the streets of Chicago, and so far all of them have bought the book and read it. I talked to one woman who decided to switch to vegetarianism until something is done to make the meat safer to eat. Another claims he will never eat beef or pork again. I received a telegraph from Sinclair saying that he was going to write a letter to the United States government, demanding meat sanitation laws.
It turns out the government listened. The Pure Food and Drug Act was just commissioned yesterday. The sanitation of food has been greatly improved, thanks to muckrakers! Upton Sinclair has stated that he will continue to be an investigative journalist and also continue to write more reports and novels. So be sure to look for him on the shelves in the near future!
I also recieved good news from the east coast last week. Jacob Riis sent me a book called How the Other Half Lives. He also attached a letter stating that he had great success in publishing the book. He told me that they were almost impossible to keep on the store shelves because everyone wanted a copy. He had written a brilliant book that incorporated superior journalism and outstanding photography, all from that day we went down to investigate the slums of New York.
I was very suprised to hear that even our president , Teddy Roosevelt, had read his book and was now doing something to improve housing and sanitation in the slums.
This has been such an exciting week! I hope muckraking will continue on this positive path. It has been so helpful in supporting the progressive movement. I think I am living the american dream, because I feel as though I have helped so many people, and that I have been influenced by them to. So to all of you reading this, are you living the dream too?
I bought a book today called Twenty Years at Hull House by Jane Addams. I read it and it is simply wonderful! It talks about her experiences working at Hull House, a building that houses new immigrants until they can provide for themselves. It was amazing and I highly recommend it to anyone. Jane also believes in social gospel, which means influencing Jesus Christ into every aspect of life. She highly supports the progressive movement.
I also recently subscribed to McClure's Magazine. I bought it for fifteen cents! It was a great deal, and it has a ton of information in it.
McClure's magazine is filled with amazing articles by famous authors, including Arthur Conan Doyle, the author of the Sherlock Holmes series. If you haven't read them, you should! They are spectacular.
Ida Tarbell also had an article in here awhile back. I have already addressed her in an earlier blog. She used McClure's to gain her fame and help break up the standard oil company. She is one of the most well known journalists for this magazine.
Over the past years, McClure's has been losing its business to The American Magazine. I personally think McClure's covers better reports and is more accurate. I certainly hope they don't go out of business.
Next week I will have a more detailed post. I haven't been as busy with investigations and I have started to wonder whether or not anything is going to happen! I hope all of you have a pleasant week.
Hello Again, I am back in New York seeing family, and coming here has brought back some very vivid memories. I am going to spend today writing about something that happened awhile back, but not many of you probably heard anything about it. This is a great report to cover, because it really describes what muckrakers have to go through to get a good report.
I met Elizabeth Cochrane at a convention for woman's suffrage. We got to talking, and I learned that she was currently a writer, but was going to become an investigative journalist. I exclaimed that I was also thinking about being one, and she gave me her address so we could write back and fourth.
About a month later I received an article called What Girls are Good For. I read it, impressed with the author's persuasive writing ability, only to find that Elizabeth had written it! I was so impressed, not only because the article had many reviews, but also because she had gone through with her goals to become an investigative journalist, as I had not yet. Attached to the article was a letter.
Dear Jane,
Greetings! Did you like the article I sent you? I have been praised by women, but brought down by men. I think it might help us gain some rights! How have you been? Have you pursued your career yet? I certainly hope so, because I need your help with something. I recently learned about an insane asylum close to my home that has been rumored to be extremely harsh to the patients being treated there. Would you join me in an undercover mission to prove these rumors to be true? I would love your help
Sincerely,
Elizabeth Cochrane
I looked at the letter, and knew I would be going to New York. It would be the start of my career in investigative journalism! I packed all my suitcases, and hopped on a train to New York City right away.
Elisabeth met me at the station and instructed me to call her Nellie Bly. That was her pen name because women aren't aloud to use their real names when they publish their work. She told me I should come up with one too, so I used Jane Locke, the name I still use today.
Nellie and I arrived at Blackwell Island late that night. She instructed me to have a faraway look in my eyes and walk around aimlessly. We did this so the doctors would think we were new patients dropped off here and had some mental problems. Soon enough, a doctor and two nurses came running out and they grabbed us. The doctor asked for our names, Nellie claimed she was Nellie Brown, I claimed I was Jane Kingsley.
We were inside the asylum. Everywhere we looked there were people sitting on cold, hard benches. Some eyes met mine, others did not. I was surprised to see one woman in the corner getting beaten with a stick! She cried out, but the nurse pretended not to hear. Off in another corner, there were patients with ropes tied around them. These must have been the extremely insane.
Nellie and I were sent to a little room where a doctor examined us to make sure we were truly insane. They believed our cover and confirmed we were "positively demented". They guided us to a room, it must have been a dining hall, so we could eat with the rest of the residents.
I would have rather been starved than forced to eat the food the cooks were serving. With putrid smelling beef, chunky broth, and polluted water, it was enough to make me truly crazy. Rats ran around my feet, and there was garbage everywhere. Nurses were supervising the supper, each armed with a stick. One of the woman at a different table started complaining about the horrible food, and a nurse pointed her stick at her then yelled "Shut up!".
I was guided up a narrow set of stairs to my room, where I was instructed to undress and take a bath. I put a towel around me and was startled to see a nurse waiting in the bathroom for me. I tentatively sat down in the tub. Nothing happened, then glacier cold water was dropped on top of me. I wanted to scream, but no sound came out. The water was everywhere, in my eyes and nose, dribbling down my back. I wanted so much to get out of there, and eventually I did.
The next ten days were awful. I met with more doctors, but none of them did anything to help my "fake" condition. mostly when I tried to talk they just sat there telling me to shut up. I think the doctors were crazier than the patients. I met one woman who was just as sane as I was. She told me her husband didn't want to deal with her anymore so he claimed she was crazy and she was brought here. I saw more patients being beat with sticks. More abuse, everywhere I looked.
After ten days were up, we escaped. Nellie wrote her book, Ten Days in a Madhouse, and I decided to pursue a career in muckraking. The asylum's conditions improved, thanks to us. Nellie went on to be an astounding journalist, and I became a muckraker of course. This is how I started my career in investigative journalism.
http://digital.library.upenn.edu/women/bly/madhouse/madhouse.html
Insane Asylum
I have been off the street and back on the typewriter this past week. Things have been going slow in the muckraking business and I am experiencing a boredom influenced writer's block! The good news is that I have had a chance to see other people's work for a change.
I can't believe how unconnected we are here in Chicago. Just today I learned that muckraker Ida Tarbell seems to have caused the breaking up of the Standard Oil Company! I am shocked that a journalist's work seems to have done something so phenomenal. Score one for the muckrakers! I must remember to send her a telegraph congratulating her on her spectacular accomplishment.
Since this seems to be a slow week I will answer some of your most frequently asked questions that I cannot wait to answer.
Question #1- What is a muckraker?
A- A muckraker is a journalist who investigates the unknown problems of our society and expose threats that have been brewing right under our feet.
Question #2- How do you stay undercover while investigating?
A- I prefer to know a little about the place before I go there. I like to dress as a worker because they usually don't question that.
Question #3- What are some of the hardships experienced while doing your job?
A- Well, the places we are going to investigate are not always the most pleasant, or most sanitary of places. I have investigated places that I never care to go to again. You have to be tough, and bare through whatever unusual conditions come your way.
Question #4- What do you gain from being a muckraker?
A- I gain a sense of pride to know that I've done good things for the world by exposing some of it's problems. Its good to know that I am doing the right thing.
Question #5- What do you need to know to become a muckraker?
A- You have to be fluent in English, and possibly other foreign languages. You need to be able to read and write of course, and be as persuasive as possible.
Those are the top five questions I am usually asked. Please keep sending me letters I appreciate all of them! I can't wait to share more muckraking facts and reports with you.
Ida Tarbell
I am writing this from the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in New York City where I have stayed the the past week. The hotel is grand and I highly recommend it to all who can afford it, but I have not experienced only pleasant things here in the big city.
A week ago an old friend paid me a visit. His name is Jacob Riis, and he is an outstanding muckraker. He told me that we might be able to get a good story in the back ways and alleys of New York. He told me of children on the streets, dying in hundreds. We set off to find out if these rumors were true.
After we arrived at the train station, we came upon the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. It was gorgeous! Its hardly impossible to imagine children living in the street when you are surrounded by such elegance. William Astor greeted us personally. I was about to lose myself in luxury, but Jacob kept me grounded. "Remember why we're here", he said. I remembered.
The next day we hit the streets. Jacob with a camera ,and me with a notepad. We went down to the other side of town. We came upon a Fourth Ward alley. I had to go out of my way to resist stepping on mud, scum and rats. We walked into the dark alley armed with our journalist supplies. The first thing we noticed about the people sitting outside was that none of them were speaking English. They must all be new immigrants. I jotted things down, not believing what I was seeing.
People of all ages were scattered about the streets, some hard at work to clean up there "living" area. Others just sat there, staring at nothing, a look of complete misery spread across their faces. Dead animals were lying in the middle of the walkway, covered with maggots and flies. I wanted to recoil from the sight. But I walked on, dodging my way between crowds of wreaking people.
We saw an open door to a flat so we went inside. As everywhere else, the odor was horrible. The room seemed to be stacked to the top with people. They stared with empty eyes at us and Jacob began to snap pictures. I wrote many notes down and stared sympathetically at the many families crammed together. I watched as they didn't even flinch when the camera flashed. It was like they didn't even feel anything anymore.
We visited more flats and apartments. They all had large masses of people stuffed into the same claustrophobic conditions as the first apartments. I just kept thinking: "Why doesn't the rest of the New York population know about this?" I came home worried and disturbed. The hotel seemed to mock me by saying I had to much. I will never get caught up in the bustle of high society again.
(The pictures up above are ones taken by Jacob Riis.)
This morning I got a telegraph from my muckraking partner Upton Sinclair. He told me about a meatpacking plant in my hometown of Chicago. He said that it was worth investigating and we should take a look around. Since the plant was close to home, I agreed to go with him.
When you go on an investigation, it is important to look inconspicuous. I dressed the way a normal worker would, complete with dirty work boots, and I headed down to the plant.
Sinclair met me at the door, explaining that we would be taking a tour of the plant with the rest of the new workers. We would act natural and at ease, then write anything suspicious down on our notepads. A scruffy looking man met us and some other workers at the entrance. He looked at all of us with a hard glare, then turned around expecting us to follow.
We climbed up a long staircase until we made it into a room filled with hogs. I had never seen so many in one place before! Everything seemed okay at the moment, workers going about their business, our guide explaining the breed of hogs they used. Nothing suspicious here; then came a screeching, high pitched screech. I looked up sharply, to realize one of the hogs had been lifted harshly from the ground by its hind leg. More and more hogs started being flinged up one by one, and the whole room filled with squeals and cries. Blood splattered onto the floor, and I recoiled back to make sure I wasn't hit.
Before the hog corpses went to the freezing room, they passed a government health inspector. The inspector looked at the corpses, checking for deadly diseases, but many just went on by without him noticing.
Outside, there was a branch of the Chicago River that people have nicknamed Bubbly Creek. It was where all the drainage from the plant came to rest. Right there in the river; the same river that the workers washed their hands in! You could see that the water in the river was oily with filth, and the stench made me want to be sick right then and there.
Inside the packing house, laborers were working busily at packaging all the meat so it could be sold in the next week. It looked normal, but there were hidden horrors behind it all. The meat was stored in a dark, rat invested room. The meat was soiled with dropping and no one bothered to separate these from the clean ones. Some would fall onto the scummy floor and those would be sold with the rest too.
When the tour was done, Sinclair and I exchanged knowing glances and headed our separate ways. I am writing this from the comfort of my home, but I may be scarred for life in witnessing the horrors I did today at the Chicago Meatpacking Plant.
