238 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
March 17 , 
FARM HANDS FROM N. Y. CITY. 
The Story of Green Helpers. 
Pakt I. 
The First Experience.—A s the Spring 
approaches it brings with it that ever-pre- 
plexing problem of where can we get efficient 
farm laborers at wages that the ordinary 
farmer can afford. As I have had consider¬ 
able experience with men from New York 
City, I think it may be of interest to the 
readers of The R. N.-Y. The first time I 
sent down to an employment bureau on Car¬ 
lisle street; they wanted $2 for office fees 
and $3 to pay the man’s fare. I told them to 
send a man who could speak English, and 
who understood farm work, and offered $15 
per month and board. After about 10 days 
the man got here; he brought a letter from 
the office with him, saying they had to give 
him $16 per month because he was “such a 
good worker.” He was a Hungarian. lie 
had been paralyzed on one side; one shoulder 
was about three inches higher than the other, 
and one hand was about as good as a stick, 
and he knew as much about farm work as a 
good dog. His English was so mixed with his 
own gibberish that it was of very little use. He 
got here when we were drawing out manure, 
and was able to do fairly good work with a 
fork and shovel. He also helped to plant 
potatoes, etc. I could tell him what to do 
and he would say: “Yes, I understand, I 
understand,” and nod his head, but he never 
did understand at all; it was necessary to go 
right with him and motion it all out. When 
his first month was out he explained very 
volubly in his own language that he must 
go to New York but he would come back, oh, 
yes. he would come back and bring another 
“Hungar” with him, but he did not, and I 
was as well pleased. One can never know 
„ what a luxury it is, to understand every 
word that is spoken, and to be understood in 
return, till one has had to deal with a for¬ 
eigner. 
A Swiss Worker.—T he next time I sent 
to the Y. M. C. A. t Bowery Branch, 153 
Bowery; they run a free labor bureau. I 
sent $3 to pay the man’s fare and they sent 
a man who got as far as Troy on the morn¬ 
ing of July 4, and he never got any farther, 
so they sent another man, a young Swiss. 
He got here when I was reaping rye (that 
was before I got a binder). He came into 
the field with his letter of introduction. He 
was a nice clean-looking fellow, but as I 
looked him over I saw he was minus a 
thumb. He said he never had any. I asked 
him if he could bind rye and he said, “Oh, 
sure I can bind,” but when he tried it he 
found it not so simple and you can imagine 
the job I had in teaching him. lie knew 
how to milk; he used his forefinger in place 
of a thumb. 1 paid him $14 per month and 
he stayed till December 1. He could speak 
fairly good English, but he would get it 
twisted in queer shape; for instance, if I 
would say: “I think it won’t rain to-day,” 
he would reply: “Yes, I don’t hope so.” 
He was considerably better than no man at 
all. 
A Personal Hunt. —The next time I want¬ 
ed men the Y. M. C. A. did not have any, so 
I decided it would be better to go down my¬ 
self and look them over, so after I landed 
in the city I walked up through Greenwich 
street and looked in at several employment 
bureaus. In a good many places a billboard 
at the door informs you that they have plenty 
of farm hands, German and Polish, and if 
you look in, a man will rush out and ask 
you if you want a man? “We give you good 
man. Polock, German, $2 each.” I told one 
of them that I was looking for a couple of 
farm hands; he at once informed me that his 
was the only place in the city where I could 
get good farm hands. I told him I wanted 
men who could speak English, and I would 
not pay $2 for them, either. lie followed 
me for two blocks, coaxing me to take two 
Polocks, and I need not pay anything for 
them, but I did not want them. I went in 
another place on Carlisle street, and saw a 
farmer trying fo hire a man. There were 25 
or 30 men in the room. The proprietor took 
the first man he came to and said: “Here 
is a good man; he is a good worker and he 
knows all about farm work, but of course 
he does not speak much English; you can 
go in this little room and talk with him.” I 
would have been pleased to hear them talk; 
the idea of a man knowing all about farm 
work as we do it here and still not under¬ 
standing the language! 
Further Experience. —Then I went to 
the Salvation Army Labor Bureau at 14th 
street, near 6th avenue. There were 15 or 
20 men there looking for work. I asked if 
any of them wanted work on a farm, and 
four or five of them were anxious to go with 
me. They all know how to use a pick and 
shovel, but none of them knew much about 
farm work. I took two of them, whose looks 
I liked; they were about 25 and 30 years 
old. Jack and Jim by name. Jack had been 
driver on a coal wagon, Jim was a “farmer”; 
he had worked one month out on Long Island. 
Both were born and raised in the city. A 
queer choice, you will think, but, then, they 
could speak English and looked bright, and I 
was sure they could learn. They wanted $20 
per month, .but were perfectly willing to 
accept $15 and board with their traveling 
expenses, to come out of their first month’s 
wages. We were to take the night boat for 
Troy, and they agreed to meet me on the 
boat. When I went to the boat my men were 
there. I asked them if they had had their 
supper. Jack said: “I haven't had any 
thing to-day,” and Jim said he had a lunch 
at 2 P. M., so I got them something to eat, 
and you may be sure they enjoyed it. We 
got home the next day at noon, and they 
rested till the following day. The first work 
they did was to cultivate corn ; they did not 
know corn from grass. I went to the field 
with them and would take first one around 
and then the other. I Impressed it on them 
that I looked more at the quality of the 
work - than at the quantity. In about two 
hours I got them so they could go alone. I 
went out at noon to see how they got along; 
they were both wet with sweat and Jack 
said, “I am doing the very best I can, sir, 
but my fingers go to sleep, I have to hang 
on to these handles so tight,” but they soon 
got ihe knack of it, and did all the cultivat¬ 
ing I had to do. Then we went to harvest 
the rye; ft only took a few minutes to teach 
them how to bind it. They had bound and 
set up one field when Jack said : “Jim and 
I have got into an argument, and we want 
you to settle it. I say this is wheat, and 
Jim says it is rye, now which is it?” When 
we got into the hay harvest Jim claimed 
that he hurt his side, lifting, and he thought 
he could not stand it. I thought he was 
homesick for the city; anyway, he went back 
to New York, and I sent down to the Sal¬ 
vation Army for another man. I sent $3 
to pay his car fare and in a few days they 
sent me a man, an Italian, Joe Mazza. I 
was prejudiced against Italians, and would 
not have picked out one myself but this one 
was certainly all right. He knew how to 
milk and would pitch as much hay as anyone. 
He would go around on a dog trot all day, 
but he had sent to Italy for his wife and 
child, and after he had been here about 1ft 
days he got a delayed letter saying that his 
wife had sailed more than two weeks before, 
so he telephoned to New Y’ork and found 
that she had already been three days on 
Ellis Island. lie was so excited he went 
into an epileptic fit. I had never seen any¬ 
one in a fit, and did not know what to do, 
but finally I got a piece of horseradish root 
and held it to bis nose and he came out of it 
in less than two minutes. Of course he was 
wild to go to New Y'ork. I did not blame 
him; he had very little money, and I was 
sorry for him, but I had no place for his 
wife, so that was the last of him. Jack 
stayed till I got through the oat harvest, then 
he got homesick for the city. Just a week 
after he went back I got a postal from him 
saying: “If you want Jack back again, I will 
meet you any time on the Troy dock in New 
York. I will meet you the twenty-fifth of 
this month.” I would have taken him back 
If he had come, but I did not care to go to 
New York after him ; he did not give any ad¬ 
dress so that was the last of him. 
GEORGE VAN DEWERKER. 
Tile Drainage for Orchards. —We have 
an orchard that was ditched 30 years ago 
through the cenler of the rows (2% rods 
apart) which is still working well. 2 y? to 
three feet deep. Previous to ditching, as the 
natural drainage was poor, the trees were not 
thriving. Since Ihgt time they have stead¬ 
ily improved in every way. Trees will not 
do well with wet feet, and if the ground is 
not reasonably dry with natural drainage, 
it should be made so. frank e. rupert. 
Seneca Co., N. Y. 
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