The Slums of New York City

        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.)