HIUS 222 Reading comprehension quiz 1 complete solutions correct answers key

Liberty University HIUS 222 Reading comprehension quiz 1 complete solutions correct answers key

Jacob Riis (1849–1914) was a New York City journalist and reformer, who in the late 1880s, began—through lectures, articles, and flash photography—conveying to the wider public the unacceptable nature of living conditions endured by the city’s urban poor. The selection below is an excerpt from his 1890 book (with pictures) How the Other Half Lives. From How the Other Half Lives (1890), by Jacob Riis The first tenement New York knew bore the mark of Cain from its birth though a generation passed before the writing was deciphered. It was the “rear house”, infamous ever after in our city’s history. There had been tenant­houses before, but they were not built for the purpose. Nothing would probably have shocked their original owners more than the idea of their harboring a promiscuous crowd; for they were the decorous homes of the old Knickerbockers, the proud aristocracy of Manhattan in the early days. It was the stir and bustle of trade, together with the tremendous immigration that followed upon the war of 1812 that dislodged them. In thirty­five years ,the city of less than a hundred thousand came to harbor half a million souls for whom homes had to be found. Within the memory of men not yet in their prime, Washington had moved from his house on Cherry Hill as too far out of town to be easily reached. Now the old residents followed his example; but they moved in a different direction and for a different reason. Their comfortable dwellings in the once fashionable streets along the East River front fell into the hands of realestate agents and boarding­house keepers; and here, says the report to the Legislature of 1857, when the evils engendered had excited just alarm, “in its beginning, the tenant­house became a real blessing to that class of industrious poor whose small earnings limited their expenses, and whose employment in workshops, stores or about the warehouses and thoroughfares, render a near residence of much importance.” Not for long, however. As business increased, and the city grew with rapid strides, the necessities of the poor became the opportunity of their wealthier neighbors, and the stamp was set upon the old houses, suddenly became valuable, which the best thought and effort of a later age have vainly struggled to efface. Their “large rooms were partitioned into several smaller ones, without regard to light or ventilation, the rate of rent being lower in proportion to space or height from the street; and they soon became filled from cellar to garret with a class of tenantry living from hand to mouth, loose in morals, improvident in habits, degraded, and squalid as beggary itself.” It was thus the dark bedroom, prolific of untold depravities, came into the world. It was destined to survive the old houses. In their new role, says the old report, eloquent in its indignant denunciation of “evils more destructive than wars,” “they were not intended to last. Rents were fixed high enough to cover damage and abuse from this class, from whom nothing was expected, and the most was more of them while they lasted. Neatness, order, cleanliness, were never dreamed of in connection with the tenant­house system, as it spread its localities from year to year; while reckless slovenliness, discontent, privation, containing, but sheltering not, the miserable hordes that crowded beneath mouldering, water­rotted roofs or burrowed among the rats of clammy cellars.” Yet so illogical is human greed that, at a later day, when called to account, “the proprietors frequently urged the filthy habits of the tenants as an excuse for the condition of their property, utterly losing sight of the fact that it was the tolerance of those habits which was the real evil, and that for this they themselves were alone responsible.” Still the pressure of the crowds did not abate, and in the old garden where the stolid Dutch burgher grew his tulips or early cabbages a rear house was built, generally of wood, two stories high at first. Presently it was carried up another story, and another. Where two families had lived ten moved in. The front house followed suit, if the brick walls were strong enough… Worse was to follow. It was “soon perceived by estate owners and agents of property that a greater percentage of profits could be realized by the conversion of house and blocks into barracks, and dividing their space into smaller proportions capable of containing human life within four walls… Blocks were rented of real estate owners, or ‘purchased on time,’ or taken in charge at a percentage, and held for under­letting.” With the appearance of the middle­man, wholly irresponsible, and utterly reckless and unrestrained, began the era or tenement building which turned out such blocks as Gotham Court, where, in one cholera epidemic the scarcely touched the clean wards, the tenants died at the rate of hundred and ninety­five to the thousand of population; which forced the general mortality of the city up from 1 to 41.83 in 1815, to 1 in 27.33 in 1855, a year of unusual freedom from epidemic disease, and which wrung from the early organizers of the Health Department this wail: “There are numerous examples of tenement­houses in which are lodged several hundred people that have a pro rata allotment of ground area scarcely equal to two square yards upon the city lot, court­yards and all included.” The tenement­house population had swelled to half a million souls by that time, and on the East Side, in what is still the most densely populated district in all the world, China not excluded, it was packed at the rate of 290,000 to the square mile, a state of affairs wholly unexampled. The utmost cupidity of Old London was at the rate of 175,816. Swine roamed the streets and gutters as their principal scavengers. The death of a child in a tenement was registered at the Bureau of Vital Statistics as “plainly due to suffocation in the foul air of an unventilated apartment,” and the Senators, who has come down from Albany to find out what was the matter with New York, reported that “there are annually cut off from the population by disease and death enough human being to people a city, and enough human labor to sustain it.” …

Question 1 What happened to the comfortable dwellings in the once fashionable streets along the East River front over the course of the 1800s?

Question 2 Which of the following best conveys why these conditions described by Riis were allowed?

Question 3 According to this excerpt from Riis, what was one of the biggest problems facing these overcrowded areas?

Question 4 According to Riis, what is characteristic of the tenant­housing system in New York during the 1800s?

Question 5 Why did the original, wealthy residents of the city leave their decorous Manhattan homes and relocate far outside the city?