OCR Interpretation


The day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, August 24, 1916, LAST EDITION, Image 15

Image and text provided by University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL

Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83045487/1916-08-24/ed-1/seq-15/

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Straight into my eyes he glared
and I quailed. Then he spoke.
"You know me," he said in a low,
soothing voice, "Look at me." "You
know me Yushe Botwin, Yushe
Yushe, Zuschiker!" The words as he
wjhispered them were almost musi
cal. "Didn't I get you that last job of
yours yes? Over on Twenty-fifth
st, yes?" .
His tone wheedled and I thought
of the number of victims that had
fallen for that smooth tongue dur
ing the 27 years he had bartered in
the souls of young gu-ls.
"I ain't no girl," I stammered! "I'm
a keeper."
"Uh " Botwin grunted. He edged
up closer.
"I know YOU. Of. course Twenty-seventh
street sure!
"Listen! You keep an apartment
yes? With, how many? Two,
free girls yes?"
"Yes," I answered, having been
coached.
He peered at me in an excitement
that was horrible.
"Who get you your girls what?"
"Sam," I blurted.
"Sam, Sam the Pedlar," he repeat
ed. "Yes, you get your girls from
Sam the Pedlar. Listen. You tell
the trut'. You understan'? You tell
these people here the trut' and you
get off, you see?
"You tell 'enreveryt'ing andvthen,"
his voice sinking to a whisper, "when
you get out, Yushe, Yushe Botwin,
get you lots of girls. I get you 60
girls as many you like and you
make all the money!"
Only one idea animated him. The
greed of trade and determination
that my trade in the future would
come to him, Yushe Botwin, and not
to Sam the Pedlar.
Trade! trade in human lives,
trade in the bodies of young girls!
Trade! merely that and nothing
more to this human buzzard.
I stumbled out of the room, sick
and disgusted,
WHITE SLAVE GIRL TELLS HER
: v STORY
By Esther Andrews.
Rosa Scherer is a beautiful little
White slave.
Her full lips, blooming against a
pearly white skin, are like a child's.
Only her great violet eyes under their
level blacK brows glow with the pain
of her tragedy
In the midst of New York's bleak,,
ugly night court, she told me her
story.
"I met him on the boat. I was
. coming from Russia to my people in
Brooklyn. He was nice to me. But
I did not like him. I was afraid of
him. V
"We were on the boat two days
when I lost my ticket. He found it.
But he would not give it to me; He '
said if I would keep company with
him I could have it. If I didn't gd
back to Russia.
"I did not want to. I could! not
help it I must get to my people.
"When we got to Ellis Island m'y
people met me and Jim went with
me tor them. My people did not like
Jim. They say if I marry 'Jim, I
must get out of the house.
"I went with Jim because I was
afraid. And then he told me he
would not marry me. He said I must
work for him. He used to have other
girls work for him and I must, too.
The slave girl shivered slightly.
"My people, they do nothing. No
girl ever had such trouble.
"I got mad at Jim. He have an
other giri.
"He make me .PAINT I never
paint my face, not even powder. I
did not like it"
"Would you like to leave the life?"
I aske'd.
"Of course. Her eyes opened
wide at the question. "I want to
work and go back to my people."
"Will your people take you back?"
"Yes, if I leave Jim, but I am
afraid. They have arrested him and
I am afraid they give him short sen
tence. He will come out and kill mej
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