Horatio Alger Excerpt

Detour 3.3
Excerpt from Ragged Dick, Or, Street Life in New York with the Boot Blacks
by Horatio Alger (first published in 1868)

Ragged Dick is a novel that describes the transformation of a poor bootblack in Lower Manhattan. In this excerpt, from chapter 5, Dick the bootblack is going shopping for a new hat on Chatham Street (now called Park Row). He is accompanied by his new friend Frank, a wealthy boy about Dick's age whose father has given Dick a new suit of clothes. The two boys have crossed City Hall Park from Broadway, and are heading northeast on Chatham. Click here to see a map: Chatham Street runs diagonally from lower left to upper center.

They were soon in Chatham Street, walking between rows of ready-made clothing shops, many of which had half their stock in trade exposed on the sidewalk. The proprietors of these establishments stood at the doors, watching attentively the passersby, extending urgent invitations to any who even glanced at the goods to enter.
     "Walk in, young gentlemen," said a stout man, at the entrance of one shop.
      "No, I thank you," replied Dick, "as the fly said to the spider."
      "We're selling off at less than cost."
[Opposite: Corner of Chatham and Pearl Streets, 1861]

      "Of course you be. That's where you makes your money," said Dick. "There ain't nobody of any enterprise that pretends to make any profit on his goods."
      The Chatham Street trader looked after our hero as if he didn't quite comprehend him; but Dick, without waiting for a reply, passed on with his companion.
      In some of the shops auctions seemed to be going on.
      "I am only offered two dollars, gentlemen, for this elegant pair of doeskin pants, made of the very best of cloth. It's a frightful sacrifice. Who'll give an eighth? Thank you, sir. Only seventeen shillings! Why the cloth cost more by the yard!"
      This speaker was standing on a little platform haranguing to three men, holding in his hand meanwhile a pair of pants very loose in the legs, and presenting a cheap Bowery look.
      Frank and Dick paused before the shop door, and finally saw them knocked down to rather a verdant-looking individual at three dollars.
      "Clothes seem to be pretty cheap here," said Frank.
      "Yes, but Baxter Street is the cheapest place."
      "Is it?"
      "Yes. Johnny Nolan got a whole rig-out there last week, for a dollar, -- coat, cap, vest, pants, and shoes. They was very good measure, too, like my best clothes that I took off to oblige you."
      "I shall know where to come for clothes next time," said Frank, laughing. "I had no idea the city was so much cheaper than the country. I suppose the Baxter Street tailors are fashionable?"
      "In course they are. Me and Horace Greeley always go there for clothes. When Horace gets a new suit, I always have one made just like it; but I can't go the white hat. It ain't becomin' to my style of beauty."
      A little farther on a man was standing out on the sidewalk, distributing small printed handbills. One was handed to Frank, which he read as follows,
      "GRAND CLOSING-OUT SALE! -- A variety of Beautiful and Costly Articles for Sale, at a Dollar apiece. Unparalleled Inducements! Walk in, Gentlemen!"
      "Whereabouts is this sale?" asked Frank.
      "In here, young gentlemen," said a black-whiskered individual, who appeared suddenly on the scene. "Walk in."
      "Shall we go in, Dick?"
      "It's a swindlin' shop," said Dick, in a low voice. "I've been there. That man's a regular cheat. He's seen me before, but he don't know me coz of my clothes."
      "Step in and see the articles," said the man, persuasively. "You needn't buy, you know."
      "Are all the articles worth more'n a dollar?" asked Dick.
      "Yes," said the other, "and some worth a great deal more."
      "Such as what?"
      "Well, there's a silver pitcher worth twenty dollars."
      "And you sell it for a dollar. That's very kind of you," said Dick, innocently.
      "Walk in, and you'll understand it."
      "No, I guess not," said Dick. "My servants is so dishonest that I wouldn't like to trust 'em with a silver pitcher. Come along, Frank. I hope you'll succeed in your charitable enterprise of supplyin' the public with silver pitchers at nineteen dollars less than they are worth."
      "How does he manage, Dick?" asked Frank, as they went on.
      "All his articles are numbered, and he makes you pay a dollar, and then shakes some dice, and whatever the figgers come to, is the number of the article you draw. Most of 'em ain't worth sixpence."
      A hat and cap store being close at hand, Dick and Frank went in. For seventy-five cents, which Frank insisted on paying, Dick succeeded in getting quite a neat-looking cap, which corresponded much better with his appearance than the one he had on. The last, not being considered worth keeping, Dick dropped on the sidewalk, from which, on looking back, he saw it picked up by a brother boot-black who appeared to consider it better than his own.

Click here to see a harsher description of used-clothing merchants, in Dr. Pulling's report

Click here to read a sensationalized description of Chatham Square on Sunday night

Source: http://etext.lib.virginia.edu/toc/modeng/public/AlgRagg.html

The Fourth Ward:
Life and Death in New York, 1860-1870