When Cotton Was King
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INTRODUCTION OF THE MILL IN THE SOUTH
When an old state - one of the original thirteen - builds almost two hundred cotton mills within twenty years, and also enters largely into other manufactures, a great economic change is indicated. The fact that the capital has come chiefly from a multitude of small investors within the state, makes the change more striking. When, with almost imperceptible immigration, from 150,000 to 200,000 persons are transferred from the country - perhaps from the very farms - where they and their ancestors have lived for more than a century, to live in towns or factory villages, and receive their pay in wages rather than in commodities, the social changes must be equally important.
North Carolina has been and is yet a rural state. No city has ever dominated, or even influenced, any considerable portion of the territory. In 1900 there was not a single city with a population of 25,000. Since 1900 the percentage of those engaged in manufacturing has steadily increased, and the transition to an industrial society is well begun. The state stands third in the manufacture of cotton; the product of the cotton-seed oil mills is important; North Carolina furniture is shipped to South America and South Africa; and North Carolina tobacco is sold over the world.
The state is being influenced profoundly by
the transfer of a population by families instead of by individuals from the country to the
town. Now, between an agricultural and an industrial population are 
many points
of difference. The manner of life is unlike; the opinions are generally
opposed; the ideals are not the same. As yet the division line in North Carolina is not
sharp and clear. There is no manufacturing section in which agriculture is merely
subsidiary. Cotton mills are located in more than half the counties of the state, and
other industries are more or less scattered. There is no sharply defined operative class,
for the workers in the mills and factories of North Carolina were either born on the
farms, or are only one generation removed, and the tang of the soil still persists. With
the making of operatives and artisans from farmers we have to deal.
Yesterday the mill operatives produced raw material for others to fashion; today they fashion it themselves. They were landowners or at least land renters with all the rural independence. Now they work at the overseer's nod, and receive their pay in wages rather than in products of the soil which they have directly created. Instead of living remote from neighbors, they are crowded into factory villages where they may talk from house to house. They spend the larger part of their waking time within walls, tending complicated machines instead of working in the open air with a few simple tools. In the country the work was irregular and an occasional holiday might be taken without apparent loss. In the mills loss of wages and the displeasure of the overseer follow any departure from absolute regularity. The operative must work every day and the whole of the day.
Such a radical change in manner of life must affect them physically and mentally. They must learn how to live in towns, to adapt themselves to their surroundings. The children worked on the farms, as they have done since farming began, but here they are subjected to constant instead of intermittent demands upon their strength and endurance. The mental activity of all must be influenced; a quickening or a deadening must follow.
Their social, religious, and political ideas
are undergoing change. The gregarious instinct develops rapidly, and solitude, once no
hardship, becomes unendurable. The religious ideas and organization which served the rural
inhabitant seem not so satisfactory to the factory worker. The church is becoming alarmed
to find that it is losing its hold upon the factory population. Political unrest is not
yet general, but in a few localities the workers are slowly becoming conscious of
themselves. Feeble attempts to organize a Socialist propaganda may be seen. The labor
agitator is at work.
Those left on the farms are affected by the withdrawal of population, a part of which goes to the towns for employment in the various industries, and another part to invest its capital in trade or manufacturing rather than in agriculture. Both the churches and the schools feel the loss. Neighborhoods once attractive from a social standpoint are now lonely. On the other hand, the establishment of little towns in the fields and woods around the widely distributed mills affords new markets for farm produce. The wages for farm labor -- for a long time either stationary or decreasing -- rise because of the increased demand and the smaller supply, and improved machinery and more intensive farming are necessarily introduced. The rural telephone and improved roads, -- both largely the results of the increased commercial and industrial activity, -- together with rural mail delivery, help to bring the country communities into closer touch with the outside world.
The increase of population and wealth in the old towns is working many changes. Communities which had altered little since the days of Cornwallis are feeling the modern industrial spirit. "Business" is being exalted to a position heretofore unknown. A type of shrewd, calculating, far-sighted business man is being developed. The "Southern Yankees" devote themselves exclusively to their work and need ask no favors in any contest of commercial strategy. Social lines are shifting. Families which have decidedly influenced the spirit of the community become less prominent, unless they take part in the new movement. There are signs of class distinctions based upon wealth and business success.
The whole attitude of mind has changed more during the last fifteen years than in the fifty preceding. The Civil War did little more than to intensify the convictions previously existing. That acute, though often unfair, critic of Southern life, Judge Tourgée, well says, "It modified the form of society in the South but not its essential attributes." Reconstruction fixed these convictions more firmly. Now old prejudices and fixed ideas, political and social, show signs of weakening. Independent voting is no longer uncommon. Only the prominence of the race question prevented a greater division upon national lines in 1904. A military record no longer outweighs all other considerations. Not a single member of the present Congress from the state was a Confederate soldier. Commercialism is doing what bayonets could not do.
The ideal of success is changing. An increasingly large proportion of the college graduates adopt a business career, or go into the mills and factories to learn every process in spite of the dust and the grime. The state is growing more like industrial societies everywhere. Agricultural societies may show much variation, but industrial communities tend more toward a type. Nevertheless the influence of the old civilization is felt through the expression of the new, and modifies it almost in every detail.
Before the industrial revolution, England was already a manufacturing country through the thousands of hand looms in the weavers' cottages. The factory system first brought these operatives together and furnished power. The first effect was to drive those unable to find a place in the new system back to the soil already crowded, or to throw them upon the parish. In North Carolina increased opportunities for profitable employment in every line of industry have followed the change.
The transformation in this state is more nearly like that in New England seventy-five years ago, but still with decided differences. In 1810 the value of the textile products of North Carolina in the domestic system was greater than that of Massachusetts produced by hand plus that of the few factories then existing.
Another factor of the difference which has its place, and must not be neglected, even in a purely economic study, is the essential difference between Northern and Southern character and attitude of mind, - a difference distinct from any question of an aristocratic structure of society.
The differences exist. The North
and the South are two countries with different ideals, different prejudices, different
standards. France and Germany are no more unlike than some portions of the United States.
As a whole, the differences are certainly as great as those between England and Ireland.
Any attempt to form comparisons and judgments without taking into consideration these
ingrained differences will be of slight value.
The state of the cotton industry is dynamic in the extreme. New mills are completed, old ones are enlarged, product is diversified, new machinery is introduced making new wage scales, night work is begun or discontinued. The surroundings of the little mill in the country with a few hundred spindles, and of the large establishment in a mill center, vary greatly, and the operatives move from one to the other with frequency.
Yet underneath all the diversity there are constant factors, tendencies strongly marked, which may be described and analyzed if one studies the people as well as the material facts. We may be able to say "how" even if we cannot say "how much."
North Carolina has a larger number of separate mills than any other state, though in production is only third. The figures for 1904, the latest available, show 304 separate textile establishments having 2,178,964 spindles and 48,612 looms, an average to the establishment of 8285 spindles and 185 looms.
WORK IN THE MILL
To follow a bale of cotton through a mill of average size and to study the processes and the workers who handle it, will give much aid toward a clear conception of the problem.
The cotton is delivered at the mills in bales, packed in jute or cotton bagging, just as they came from the gins. The standard bale is 500 pounds, but the actual range is from 375 to 600 pounds, with more bales below than above the standard weight. There is no standard size, but the average is perhaps 30 x 48 x 54 inches.
The bales go first to the picker room, which is shut off from the rest of the mill by fireproof walls, or else is in a building entirely separate. Here the bagging and the ties are removed. Handfuls are taken from several bales in turn and thrown into a bin in order to average as far as possible any differences in moisture, color, and length of fiber.
The cotton thus mixed is fed to the "opener," which loosens the fibers that have been closely interlocked and compressed, and begins the work of knocking or blowing out the dust, trash, motes, and other foreign matter. The man in charge of opening the bales and of this machine is called the "opener." The task demands only strength and a minimum of intelligence.
Next the cotton is fed into a "lapper," which continues the work of untangling the fibers, removing impurities, including broken ends or short lint. It is delivered in the form of "laps," which are sheets of batting of loose texture 36 to 45 inches wide and usually 48 yards long, weighing from 10 to 18 ounces the yard. For the purpose of further mixing and in order to equalize any differences in weight or thickness, a number of these laps, usually four, are superimposed and drawn out into one of the same weight as each of its constituent parts. This process is usually repeated, and occasionally a second time.
The laps are now taken to the "cards," which continue the work of untangling the fibers and remove the impurities left by the previous machines. The fibers are rendered approximately parallel, and the cotton is delivered in the form of "sliver," which is simply a loose, untwisted cotton rope a little less than one inch in diameter and weighing yard for yard hardly a hundredth part as much as the lap. By an ingenious device the sliver is deposited coiled in cylindrical cans. One or two men, with the "card-room boss," who has general charge of all the processes thus far, can manage these machines in an 8000 spindle mill.
From four to eight cans of sliver go to each "drawing frame," of which the essential feature is pairs of rollers moving at unequal and increasing speed. The fibers are rendered parallel, and any inequality in the constituent slivers is made less important by combination with the others. The product delivered from the most rapid rollers is a single rope of practically the same weight as each of its constituent parts. This evening up is so important that the process is usually repeated twice. If six ends are fed each time into the machine, it is obvious that 6 x 6 x 6 = 216 ends have been drawn into one. Two or three men or strong women will manage this process.
The sliver is now fed to the "slubber," which reduces the thickness and imparts a slight twist. The product is now "slubbing" and is wound upon large bobbins to be ready for the next process. The "intermediates" continue the attenuation and twisting, and the process is carried further by the "fine frames," which are almost duplicates of the intermediates.
Two or three men manage the slubbers, the same number of men or women the intermediates, and four or five the "speeders," as the fine frames are often called. The stock, now become "roving," is ready for the final drawing out and twist imparted by the spinning frames proper, or by the "mules."
In the South, mules are little used, and practically all the yarn is spun upon ring frames. These are 36 to 39 inches wide, and have two sides. The length varies, but 27 feet is most common. This length contains, of the yarns most generally spun, numbers 16 to 30, 104 spindles on each side, or 208 to each frame.
So far the twist imparted has been only enough to keep the cotton together. Now the bobbins of roving are placed in creels, and the ends again run between pairs of rollers revolving at unequal speed. The spindles driven at high speed, from 5000 to 10,000 revolutions the minute, impart the twist, and by action of the "traveler" the resulting yarn is wound upon the bobbins. The high speed and the tension cause the threads to break frequently, and these must be twisted together.
Girls nearly all below the age of sixteen do this work, each one looking after from one to eight "sides," i.e. from 104 to 832 spindles. Eight sides has been the limit of economical operation in the South, as frequently several threads break at the same moment and that part of the machine is idle until they are mended.
Only the youngest beginners are confined to one side. The average in different mills lies between three and six. This varies with scarcity of operatives as well as with absolute skill. When labor is plenty, the number of sides allotted to each girl is smaller, as thus a nearer approach to production (the amount theoretically possible for each spindle to deliver) may be secured. As wages are paid by the side, each girl is naturally ambitious to run as many as possible. The work requires little physical strength, but a high degree of dexterity comes to the experienced spinner before she is advanced to the looms.
In a mill where all machinery is first-class, when the raw material is of good quality and the atmospheric conditions are right, there is nothing to do for considerable intervals. On another day the threads break constantly and all possible nimbleness cannot keep all the spindles running. Constant watchfulness is always required.
The full bobbins are removed and empty ones placed in their stead by boys, "doffers," and the operation is called "doffing." They work exceedingly rapidly, but have long periods of rest. In all they work from 20 to 45 minutes in every hour. Often when they will not be needed before the closing time, they are dismissed before the other operatives, or occasionally are allowed to play out of doors until they are needed.
The mill of which we are speaking would have 40 machines, 80 sides, and 16 to 24 spinners. Nine or 10 doffers can keep the machines clear. In addition there will be an overseer of spinning and a section hand, both men.
The bobbins are necessarily wound with irregular tension, as the thread circles from bottom to top. To remedy this, the yarn from several bobbins is now wound regularly and smoothly, with no additional twist, upon a spool. Usually girls or women run the spoolers, and 8 to 12 will be required.
For single yarns the processes are the same whether the yarn is to be woven on the premises or to be sold. If "ply" yarns are desired, 2 to 6 of the strands are twisted into a single cord, by special machinery managed by 5 or 6 men. But whether single or twisted, the processes through which the yarn now goes differ according to its destination. If it is to be sold, from 1000 to 2000 spools are taken to the "Denn warper," which draws them all into one great rope or skein, and knots or links them together to prevent tangling.
It is then ready to be baled for the market. One man has charge of the machine.
On the other hand, if the yarn is to be woven upon the premises, the threads resigned for the warp, from 300 to 600 spools, go to the beam warper. Here they are wound upon cylindrical beams. Again one man has charge.
From 3 to 6 beams, depending upon the width, fineness, etc., of the cloth to be woven now go to the slasher to be "sized." The "ends" (separate threads), say 400 on each beam, now pass through a box containing starch, tallow, and sometimes other ingredients, which serve to stiffen and strengthen the yarn, and render it smooth. As they pass out they are drawn between heated cylinders, and the ends are wound upon a loom beam. One man only, with a little outside help for the heavy lifting, is required in this position.
The loom beams must now be "put into harness," as the arrangement of the heddles and reeds in the looms is called. Each separate end, sometimes more than 2000, must be drawn through an eye in the harness and a dent in the reed. Three girls do this work, called "drawing-in," which is probably more trying on eyesight and nerves than any other position in the mill. A recent invention promises to set free these workers.
These loom beams, with the ends drawn into harness, are now adjusted in the looms. The filling (threads running across the cloth) comes directly from the frames on bobbins ready to be placed in the shuttles. The operatives are adults, men and women. Their duties are to keep the ends mended, and fresh bobbins in the shuttles. Some strength and judgment is required, as the loom is a complicated machine. The number of looms which can be managed by a single weaver varies with the quality, weight, width, and color of the cloth, the style of the loom, and also with the skill, strength, and natural or inherited aptitude of the weaver himself. Occasionally a weaver will manage 8 common looms, excellent weavers have 6, a greater number has 4, and the younger and more inexperienced have 2.
With the automatic loom, which throws out the empty bobbin and takes a full one from a creel, an operative can manage from 12 to 24. In our mill of 8285 spindles, the number of regular looms necessary to consume the yarn varies from 200 to 250, depending upon the fineness of the yarn and the goods woven. There will be 45 to 60 operatives, a "weave boss," and 2 "loom fixers." Payment is by the cut of 40 to 60 yards.
The cloth as woven is wound upon a beam holding several cuts. The cloth on a number of beams is sewed into a strip and passes through a machine variously known as a "brusher," "shearer," or "calendar." This shears off the loose threads, emery wheels grind off the rough places, and after the cloth has passed through a steam jet, heated rollers iron it smoothly. Next the cloth goes to the "folder," which makes the bolts seen in the shops. After stamping and baling, the cloth is ready for the market. Two or three men have charge of these three processes.
In the country the influence of the church is strong. There is now more Puritanism in the South than remains in New England. The Scotch-Irish Presbyterian held a stern doctrine, and Drumtochtys are still to be found. Though the Methodists and Baptists have added an emotionalism foreign to the old Presbyterian temperament, their rules of conduct are no less strict. The instance of a good woman who gave to her neighbor's children the nuts from a tree in her yard, provided they would promise not to crack them on Sunday, is not an isolated survival. There are thousands like her. Practically every resident of a rural community is connected with some religious denomination.
Naturally the loneliness, and the strictness of the imposed code, make a serious population. There is little spontaneity or hilarity in the ordinary rural gathering. Men, women, and children are usually sedate and quiet, almost grave. There are instances of reaction, of course, individuals who break away, whose spirits cannot be confined nor restrained. When they have offended against one social or ethical convention, they may be ready to offend in all. But viewing them in the large, these small farmers exhibit little of the "joy of life."
Though the dwellers in the factory
village meet thus incidentally or at the church services, there is little
formal social intercourse. The young men and the young women are together on Saturday
afternoons and Sunday. Some take walks, and all the horses in the livery stables are
engaged for drives on Sunday afternoons. Parties are rare. After the long day's work,
bedtime must come early. The elders frown upon both dancing and cards. In fact, much of
the old Puritanism which holds that any amusement whatever is wrong, or at least of
doubtful propriety, still survives. This attitude may persist, though the church services
are no longer so scrupulously attended.
The moral atmosphere of the mill settlements varies. At some old mills which have gotten a bad name through the carelessness or indifference of the manager or superintendent, and to which self-respecting operatives refuse to go, conditions are undoubtedly bad. The best operatives will not go where the tenements are bad, and sometimes short-sighted economic policy leads the managers to take the operatives that will come, instead of improving conditions. The less scrupulous operatives naturally tend to gather at the mills in the larger towns, where less supervision can be exercised.
At a great majority of the mills the atmosphere is clean. The testimony of unprejudiced Northern observers is quoted elsewhere, as have been examples of the scrupulousness of the operatives in money matters. As a result of whisky illicitly procured, sexual jealousy, or a hasty word, personal encounters sometimes occur, but they are seldom serious. The operatives marry young, and sexual immorality is not common.
There are many individual cases of unchastity, of course. No claim of universal purity is made for them. The conditions of the work, the crowding, the necessarily close association with the men would supposedly have a tendency to diminish maidenly reserve. There is vulgar conversation sometimes, and perhaps occasional profanity; but the overwhelming majority of the factory girls in the North Carolina mills are virtuous, and follow the right so far as they know it.
In many mills the girls themselves make up an unofficial committee for the protection of social purity, and allow no offender to stay. In one mill where any deviation was punished by the discharge from the mill of the whole family and eviction from the tenement, the necessity for the infliction of the penalty did not arise for more than five years. Yet the population had changed considerably during that period, for the operatives can and will move upon an hour's notice.
No matter how dissatisfied such a family may be with its surroundings, and no matter how vain seems the search for a satisfactory location, it seldom, almost never, returns to the farm. The reason is perhaps complex. The greater apparent earnings, even though the family wages may be spent before they are paid, make possible the enjoyment of certain comforts and luxuries unknown upon the farm; to return would seem a confession of failure, and they are still sensitive to the opinion of the neighborhood they left. Greater than all else is the morbid craving for excitement and change -- a feeling analogous to that which keeps certain sections of the city overcrowded.
The formal agencies for social betterment at the North Carolina mills are the church and the school. Both are subsidized by the corporation. In nearly every mill community outside of those incorporated towns which maintain an efficient school system, the mill erects a school building. A school is maintained entirely at the expense of the corporation, or the short term of the public school is extended to six or even ten months by an appropriation from the mill treasury. Sometimes in towns which have a satisfactory school system the mill builds schoolhouses near the mills for the convenience of the operatives, and the town maintains the schools.
There is scarcely a mill settlement in the state which does not enjoy much greater educational opportunities than the country districts, if only the children could be forced to attend. Some managers parade this support of schools and churches as philanthropy; others say it is a plain matter of business; that the mill which offers the greatest advantages will get more desirable operatives.The mill child seldom finds school such a welcome relief from monotony as does his country cousin. The instruction seems to him not vital, to touch his life at too few points. There is more fun upon the streets or in the mill than in spending hours in a stuffy school-room. He has no traditions to urge him on, and the individuals he admires most may have had little or no schooling.
The night schools established at a few mills either by the management or by individuals have done very little. The operatives are tired after the long day, and there is neither the economic pressure nor the thirst for knowledge which makes such an institution successful in the city. Gradually the attendance, which may have been satisfactory at the opening, lessens until the effort is abandoned.
The churches are, next to the mill itself, the chief centers of community life. The largest in membership are the Methodist and the Baptist. The Presbyterians and the Lutherans have organizations at some mills. The Episcopal church has never had a hold upon the rural population of the middle and western sections of the state, and prejudice against it has been assiduously cultivated. The number of Roman Catholics is negligible.
The power of the church is perhaps greatest in those communities where a large proportion of the operatives is fresh from the country. Often the manager may act as superintendent of the Sunday school, and use his powerful influence to aid the organization. At some mills the corporation itself acts as collecting agent and deducts from the wages the subscriptions which have been made for the support of the work. As a result of this policy, the ministers, who are often men of ability, receive their salaries promptly.
The idea of the institutional church has gained no ground. The church authorities are conservative. The methods used in the country have not been changed to meet the new conditions. Two sermons on Sunday, a weekly prayer meeting, and the Sunday school, are universal. Perhaps there is a missionary society among the women or a "Parsonage Aid Society," and some organization of the young people. These, however, meet with opposition among some of the older members who hold that no organization within the church itself is justified. Some of the Sunday schools have small libraries. The books are usually bought in bulk, however, and are more distinguished for ethical and doctrinal soundness than for literary value.
Old-fashioned orthodox sermons are the rule. The terrors of a literal burning hell, the joys of the righteous hereafter, are expounded with fervor. The emphasis is laid upon the life to come, and upon renunciation of the world, rather than upon a broader, fuller life upon the earth. One minister in charge of a cotton mill church in a burst of impatience exclaimed to me that the mill managers did not wish the thinking powers of their operatives developed, but did wish them to be very religious. This statement is not entirely justified, but undoubtedly the value of religion as an aid to discipline is fully recognized.
Frequent "revivals" are held by the Methodists and Baptists. The churches are filled every night for a week or more, and the services often last until a very late hour. A strange mixture of methods prevails. The "mourner's bench" at which those "convicted of sin" may kneel, and the invitation to shake the hand of the minister as a token of conversion, are both used. The Moody and Sankey hymns, and the old tunes full of haunting minor chords which have done duty at camp-meetings for a century, are heard. Members kneel beside their young friends or move about exhorting them to "come to the altar." The air is electric with emotion, and the old-fashioned type of "shouting Methodist" is not yet extinct.
The pastors of these churches are earnest men, who work faithfully for their charges; but the task is discouraging. Pastoral visiting is unsatisfactory, as often the whole family is never together except on Sunday, and the mother is busy when the call is made. If one family receives a disproportionate share of pastoral attention, the others are jealous. Infinite tact is required, and many ministers avoid so far as possible the care of factory churches.
BY
HOLLAND THOMPSON, A. M.
SOMETIME FELLOW IN POLITICAL ECONOMY, COLUMBIA
UNIVERSITY; INSTRUCTOR IN HISTORY, THE
COLLEGE OF THE CITY OF NEW YORK
Submitted in partial
fulfillment of the requirements for
the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in the Faculty
of Political Science, Columbia University