WANTED-A BOY by Frances Bennett Callaway

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Jun 5, 1901

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 27, No. 23.

WANTED—A BOY.

By Frances Bennett Callaway

THERE is not a place of vice in this country,” declares Mrs. Mabel Conklin, the purity worker, “which has not over its door the sign, ‘Wanted—A boy.’” In confirmation she gives the story of two little boys in Brooklyn, playing innocently on a sand-pile in the street, when a saloon-keeper coming to his door called to them. The children ran to him at once without fear. No one had ever hurt them. Why should they be afraid?

Taking them inside the door, the saloon-keeper mixed two small glasses of brandy with sugar and water, and gave it to them to drink, asking them if it was not good.

“What did you do that for?” demanded an old toper who, altho a habitue of the place, had looked on with amazement.

“O, I know what I am about,” returned the saloon-keeper. “Those children have their homes in this neighborhood. I am only training them now, so that when they are older they will come into my place of their own accord.”

Some months ago at a brewers’ convention, the question came up as to who would fill the places of the drunkards who are constantly dying off. The question proved to be a serious one; for unless something could be done, business would go down. Finally a young man arose, and in a brilliant speech, suggested that the boys be brought in. He closed with these ringing words, which have been commented upon all over the country, “Nickels spent in this way to-day, mean dollars in our pockets to-morrow.”

Following this advice, saloon-keepers are now making the effort to bring in little boys, in some cases even offering them handsome gifts to draw them across the threshold. It is not hard to lure this fearless, confiding boy into the saloon. His tired, nervous mother can not bear his noise at home; his sister considers him a torment; his father would not be troubled with him on any account, so he is turned loose on the street.

With ruddy cheeks and sparkling eyes, and a laugh that bubbles over with honest joy, this boisterous little lad is always looking out for fun. Is it strange, then, that a strain of music, a glitter of light, or even a trifling gift should attract him to the only place that stands wide open for boys at any time of day or night? The saloon-keeper realizes that to-morrow this boy will be a young man, and young men are his best-paying patrons. “When we realize,” says one observer, “how few young men are in our churches and Sunday-schools, and how many are to be found in saloons and jails, an alarm should startle us as with a fire-bell.”

Besides the saloon, the snare of the cigaret is awaiting this boy. He thinks it is manly to smoke. He cherishes among his possessions a button gaily ornamented with the picture of some great hero, and a bright-colored motto assuring him that a certain kind of cigaret “is the best thing in the world.” On the way to school, great blazing posters in red and yellow remind him of the cigaret said to be “recommended by the highest medical authority.” To be sure, the small boy is warned against cigarets, but no one is willing to sit down and in a half hour’s reasonable conversation explain to him why he is forbidden to smoke them.

In a great city the lowest and most miserable of creatures may be seen on the streets gathering cigar-stubs out of the gutters, or in the saloons fishing them up with sharp-pointed iron rods as they float in the spittoons. This accumulated filth when gathered up is carried to a factory, where it is soaked in great vats of liquid medicated with alcohol and opium, and a dash of nicotine to give the cigarets a pure Havana flavor. When dried and rolled, this preparation is sold to the confiding boy, who believes it to be the best thing in the world.

The stand employers are taking in regard to cigarets may be judged from the report that one of our leading railroad companies is to discharge all the cigaret-smokers among its brakemen. “Why not?” comments an editorial. “A man or boy who sucks himself full of cigaret poison is only one degree removed from an imbecile, and the sooner he realizes his true position the better for him.” In the same paper is found the following advertisement:—

“Wanted—A boy with fair common-school education, from sixteen to seventeen years of age, to learn the printing trade. No boy who smokes cigarets, or who expects at any future time to become a cigaret-smoker, need apply.”

While nearly all the men and women in Japan smoke, they are convinced that it reduces the strength of body and mind, and for this reason have passed a law forbidding smoking materials to be sold to any boy or girl under twenty. They hope for much good from this anti-tobacco law, for after twenty these young people will not be so liable to learn to smoke. The law itself is strictly enforced, and not long ago two American lads were arrested in the depot at Tokio for smoking, and their smoking materials confiscated.—Frances Bennett Callaway.