The Cat Took the Kosher Meat by Jacob A. Riis
The tenement No. 76 Madison Street had been for some time
scandalized by the hoidenish ways of Rose Baruch, the little cloak
maker on the top floor. Rose was seventeen, and boarded with her mother
in the Pincus family. But for her harum-scarum ways she might, in the
opinion of the tenement, be a nice girl and some day a good wife; but
these were unbearable.
For the tenement is a great working hive in which nothing has value
unless exchangeable for gold. Rose's animal spirits, which long hours
and low wages had no power to curb, were exchangeable only for wrath in
the tenement. Her noisy feet on the stairs when she came home woke up
all the tenants, and made them swear at the loss of the precious
moments of sleep which were their reserve capital. Rose was so
Americanized, they said impatiently among themselves, that nothing
could be done with her.
Perhaps they were mistaken. Perhaps Rose's stout refusal to be
subdued even by the tenement was their hope, as it was her capital.
Perhaps her spiteful tread upon the stairs heralded the coming protest
of the free-born American against slavery, industrial or otherwise, in
which their day of deliverance was dawning. It may be so. They didn't
see it. How should they? They were not Americanized; not yet.
However that might be, Rose came to the end that was to be expected.
The judgment of the tenement was, for the time, borne out by
experience. This was the way of it:
Rose's mother had bought several pounds of kosher meat and put it
into the ice-boxthat is to say, on the window-sill of their
fifth-floor flat. Other ice-box these East Side sweaters' tenements
have none. And it does well enough in cold weather, unless the cat gets
around, or, as it happened in this case, it slides off and falls down.
Rose's breakfast and dinner disappeared down the air-shaft, seventy
feet or more, at 10.30 P.M.
There was a family consultation as to what should be done. It was
late, and everybody was in bed, but Rose declared herself equal to the
rousing of the tenants in the first floor rear, through whose window
she could climb into the shaft for the meat. She had done it before for
a nickel. Enough said. An expedition set out at once from the top floor
to recover the meat. Mrs. Baruch, Rose, and Jake, the boarder, went in
Arrived before the Knauff family's flat on the ground floor, they
opened proceedings by a vigorous attack on the door. The Knauffs woke
up in a fright, believing that the house was full of burglars. They
were stirring to barricade the door, when they recognized Rose's voice
and were calmed. Let in, the expedition explained matters, and was
grudgingly allowed to take a look out of the window in the air-shaft.
Yes! there was the meat, as yet safe from rats. The thing was to get
The boarder tried first, but crawled back frightened. He couldn't
reach it. Rose jerked him impatiently away.
Leg go! she said. I can do it. I was there wunst. You're no
And she bent over the window-sill, reaching down until her toes
barely touched the floor, when all of a sudden, before they could grab
her skirts, over she went, heels over head, down the shaft, and
The shrieks of the Knauffs, of Mrs. Baruch, and of Jake, the
boarder, were echoed from below. Rose's voice rose in pain and in
bitter lamentation from the bottom of the shaft. She had fallen fully
fifteen feet, and in the fall had hurt her back badly, if, indeed, she
had not injured herself beyond repair. Her cries suggested nothing
less. They filled the tenement, rising to every floor and appealing at
every bedroom window.
In a minute the whole building was astir from cellar to roof. A
dozen heads were thrust out of every window, and answering wails
carried messages of helpless sympathy to the once so unpopular Rose.
Upon this concert of sorrow the police broke in with anxious inquiry as
to what was the matter.
When they found out, a second relief expedition was organized. It
reached Rose through the basement coal-bin, and she was carried out and
sent to the Gouverneur Hospital. There she lies, unable to move, and
the tenement wonders what is amiss that it has lost its old spirits. It
has not even anything left to swear at.
The cat took the kosher meat.