SYDNEY'S WORKLESS

Greymouth Evening Star, 26 October 1929, Page 3

SYDNEY'S WORKLESS

STREETS FULL OF MENDICANTS. Not within a generation, it is said, have times been so hard in Sydney, this greatest, gayest, and most cosmopolitan of Australian cities, and nowhere, perhaps, can the Commonwealth show a greater contrast of flaunting riches and stark poverty (writes the' Sydney correspondent of the Auckland “Star,” under date September 20). One cannot blame the coal dispute or the timber workers’ strike for the position in which the metropolis of the Mother State fin ids itself. The coal deadlock affects only part of the fields, and has but a reflex effect on Sydney, 1 which apparently has all the coal it

needs; the timber struggle, although a noisy one, concerns merely a few thousand employees—a very small percentage of the workers of New South Wales—and their places in the industry have been filled by “volunteer” workers to such an extent that the employers can claim there are only 600 vacancies in the whole of the Sydney yards. There is behind the existing depression a real shortage of money due to a late and sudden resolve to reduce borrowing and limit the expenditure of loans on public works. There has been, too, a tremendous slump in railway receipts, with the result that 5,000 hr more railwaymen have been “sacked,” and retrenchment has so seized the minds of the Civic Commissioners who replaced the corrupt City Council that the municipal services are manned by 1,000 less than was the case this time last year. THE SIGNIFICANT* “TO LET.” One of the most significant indications of a city’s prosperity or otherwise is the absence or frequency of the “To Let” sign. A few years ago it was a rare sight. To-day it is seen in every street. Thousands of dwellings are empty; there are shops to let in the very heart of the city; the insides of formerly populous office buildings resemble deserted rabbit warrens ; huge blocks of flats are almost entirely empty. In the Bondi-Waverley district alone there are said to be no fewer than 1,800 flats to let at greatly reduced rents. This position, of course, will improve with the summer, when the people flock to the cool environment of the seaside ; but, even so, the outlook is dreary. And yet it has been a great year for building. Huge stores and office structures are being erected in the city alongside others which are partially deserted; immense blocks of flats are growing skyward in localities of flats plasted with the “To Let” sign. Despite unemployment and the universal complaint of the absence of money and business stagnation, it would appear that investors have a great faith in the recuperative powers of the city.

Meanwhile thousands of men walk the streets idle, benevolent and charitable institutions are at their wits’ end to provide relief for the foodless and shelterless, and the open Domain has the largest population in many years. Apart from the increased volume of seidous crime, there is a perfect epidemic of petty thieving, and it is not safe for the housewife to leave the family washing out’ on the clothes-line overnight. To leave a parcel in an unguarded motor car is to bid it farewell. And one of the most serious aspects of the times is the greatly swollen army of women unemployed.

“FLOODED” PAWNSHOPS. On a recent afternoon I made a tour of the city. It was “business as usual,” excepting that the great shops were not being patronised as was the case a year ago. The streets were crowded largely with fashionablydressed women, luxurious limousines and sedans thickened the traffic of commerce. When the theatre matinees, the swell cabarets, and fashionable tea rooms liberated Tfieir crowds, c there were to be seen thousands of expensive suitings and exquisite spring frocks, and a close inspection, revealed the wearing of jewellery which would have filled an Aladdin’s cave. Among all this ostentatious - wealth, shabby men, down at hee], with suits patched and shiny, walked with depressed mien. Among one such I recognised an old acquaintance. He saw me and stopped. Seven months out of work, he had just pawned a dress and a pair of almost unsoiled riding breeches, with a pair of good-as-new flannel trousers for — how much do you think? “Uncle” had advanced him three shillings on the lot —proof of which 'my friend produced the pawn ticket! He told me the pawnshops were so full of pledges that it was hard to pawn anything at all, and he instanced the fact that all he had been able to obtain as a loan on a diamond

ring that cost £5O, was £4 10/, and that a gold wristlet watch that cost £9 was flatly refused, as the pawnbroker was “flooded out” with them. It was a piquantly (and tragically) apt term. I later on investigated the matter firsthand, and found that actually the pawnshops of Sydney were “flooded out.”

The city is full of mendicants. Outside almost every hotel,’ and even outside the theatres and picture halls at interval • times, there are standing “musicians 1 "’ who plead pitifully with a tin whistle, a cornet, or a violin. To-day I saw in Pitt Street, somewhat out of the hurly-burly, a woman playing the violin, standing in the gutter, with a collection box alongside her. In front of the G.P.0., in Martin Place, another woman sat on a stool (also in the gutter), singing, and accompanying herself on a portable organ. Everywhere men and women go about hawk*ing boot laces, studs, or collar pins or are to be seen standing at vantage points offering matches for sale. At 5 o’clock I passed along York Street, where a long queue of some 200 miser-able-looking men shivering in a cold breeze, stood or sat, waiting for the opening of the night refuge and shelter provided by the municipal authorities. If the situation lent itself to humour one could compare Sydney to the celebrated city in which, all the people live by taking in each other’s washing. Almost everyone is trying to _ sell everyone else something. The majority of the jobs advertised are for outdoor, travellers or canvassers. The “door-' knockers” are to be counted in thousands, hawking a thousand and one things for domestic use or ornament. One “stunt” is topurchase a 121 b tin of cheap jam, put it into lib jars, and sell it (if you can) at 200 per cent profit, as genuine “home-made” —the tale being that the vendor is out of work and that “the missus is making it at home” to try and earn- the rent. For the first time within my knowledge, men working on commission for land agents are going from door to door, seeking to 'sell sections in subt divisions, on terms as low as £1 down

ami Is a week. This land, of course, will have a tremendous value in the future ! If the future is as far off as the land itself is from the city, it might make a decent speculation for a great-grandson. As canvassers and hawkers with empty stomachs have blunted consciences in many instances, people who go out these days pay particular attention to locking the doors and fastening windows.