103: A Gilded Age Christmas: Joseph Pulitzer’s Christmas Tree Fund 22:15

Thomas Alva Edison, the Wizard of Menlo Park, as he was known, made a recent appearance in our Origin of the Movies episode.

because in addition to the electric light and countless other inventions, he also gave us the motion picture camera. It reminded me that Edison didn't do well in the traditional school classroom when he was a boy. This prolific inventor and successful businessman learned better at home. At school, it's reported that he'd likely be lost in thought. His mother, Nancy, recognized a different approach to learning was required for her son. And the rest is history. As a parent, I appreciate that.

because each of my own three children are different. They each learn in different ways, and I want them to thrive at whatever they choose to do later in life. One learning option for kids today is K-12. K-12 powered schools are accredited, tuition-free online public schools for students in kindergarten through 12th grade. K-12 can help your child reach their full potential and give you the support you need to get them there.

This is different from homeschooling, where you are responsible for teaching them. K-12 powered schools have state certified teachers, specially trained in teaching online.

So join the more than 2 million families who have chosen K-12 and empower your student to reach their full potential now. Go to k12.com slash HTDS today to learn more and find a tuition-free K-12 powered school near you. That's the letter K, the number 12 dot com slash HTDS. K12.com slash HTDS. It's a frigid Sunday afternoon, December 20th, 1891.

Nell Nelson and his unidentified girlfriend are walking through New York City's snow-blanketed streets in an area known as Starvation Alley. This isn't the sort of place you'd usually see such a posh couple. And no, Nell isn't here for one of his usual journalistic entries in Joseph Pulitzer's world newspaper. Not initially, at least. Rather, they're here to visit and help an old dying friend.

But just as they step off Roosevelt Street, three young girls step out of a nearby building. The couple turns white with dismay at these sweet girls' haggard appearance. Each wears nothing but a faded calico dress. They shiver in the cold, hatless, their rail-thin blue legs and bare feet stepping on the ice-cold curb underneath. Their existence is a world apart from Nell and his significant other, who look on in shock at the sight of such young, cherubic poverty.

Nell asks the girls, "What are your names? Where's your house?" They only giggle in response. After a bit of unfruitful coaxing, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a dime, offering it to the girls if they'll lead him and his companion to their place. Entering what Nell later describes as a crumbling old wooden fire trap, that is, the girls' home, the couple is taken aback.

They see a newborn, unnamed and without any clothes. A two-year-old boy chases after and menaces the cockroaches on the floor with a stick. Warming up to the visiting couple, seven-year-old Josie and eight-year-old Annie now approach Nell's girlfriend. With awe and amazement, they run their fingers through the luxurious fur of her coat.

And still the room brims with activity as 11-year-old Mammy wipes 4-year-old Edgar's cheek with her dirty apron. 12-year-old Tom tries to squeeze his feet into his beaten, worthless shoes. And 13-year-old, rosy-cheeked Delia sits in the corner, giggling at the sight of these visitors. Truly, this place must be home to some of New York's most destitute children. In the other room, 17-year-old Harry is resting on this Sabbath day.

It's likely his lone, brief respite in the week. This teen is the man of the house. Day after day, he puts in the long, back-breaking hours required to provide even this meager existence for his eight siblings. There were more. As Nell and his girlfriend ask the poor, sickly mother how many children she has, she tells them that, though only nine are living, she never fails to count her two departed angels. She is, and always will be, the proud mother of eleven.

With every passing moment, the couple grows increasingly distressed for this family. Surely there must be something worth looking forward to, some measure of hope. So they turn to that one December event that never fails to bring children joy, Christmas. But Nell and his girlfriend are learning hard lessons today. Maybe that's not always the case. The mention of Christmas, Kris Kringle, only brings tears. Seven-year-old Josie stops playing with the visiting woman's fur coat.

The child despondently answers. I hanged up my stocking last Christmas, and Santa Claus put a stick of kindling wood in it. That's why I don't believe there is a Santa Claus. Annie joins in with a tremor in her little voice. Yes, and he only put cinders in mine. Rosy-cheeked Delia gets up from her corner to chime in. That's nothing. I got ashes in my stockings lots of Christmases.

Then one of the little boys adds, "Santa can't fool me since the holes in my stockings are too big for anything to be put in." Wow. Is there a child in this room with hope? Nell turns to another boy. He asks, "What will you buy if I give you a dime?" The child's response is immediate. "A pair of stockings." As Neil empties his wallet for the family, the child darts out the door and is back with his purchase before the couple's unintended visit concludes.

Our newspaperman realizes that this young boy just might be the last thread of Christmas hope, or perhaps hope of any kind, remaining in this crumbling abode. The visit ends as Neil and his girlfriend return to New York's cold, snowy streets. The newspaperman realizes he has a story to tell. He walks away with a newfound desire to help give hope and Christmas cheer to New York's countless destitute families.

It's a tall task to bring the jolly old elf to life for so many. But then again, Nell knows he need not look far for a place to put his efforts in such an audacious undertaking. He's basically already working for New York's Santa Claus, the New York World newspaper's owner, Joseph Pulitzer. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. Welcome to the fifth annual HTDS Christmas Special. As you likely know, I like to tell a Christmas story that aligns chronologically with our current era of American history. Incredibly, that actually lands us in the same place and decade as last year's special, 1890s New York.

But despite a similar backdrop, this is a decidedly different Christmas tale, one brought to life by Mr. Joseph Pulitzer. Now we've met the namesake of the Pulitzer Prize before. You might recall from episode 93 that this 40-something, bespectacled, bearded newspaper man of Jewish-Hungarian origins is an advocate for the poor and destitute, and that he uses his newspaper, the New York World, to raise money for causes he believes in.

Well, today we bear witness to the beauty of a charity that knows no creeds as this man of the Jewish faith becomes a veritable Santa Claus for Gilded Age New York's legions of impoverished children. And to follow this tale, we need to go back just a few years to the early days of Joseph's evening publication, The Evening World. Here we go. Rewind. It's late 1888, only one year since The Evening World first began publication.

Some of the newspaper's more impoverished readers are writing in, asking for assistance with Christmas. The Evening World responds by publishing these letters, which results in its more well-to-do subscribers writing in to say they'd like to help. When this happens, the Evening World connects the two groups, often forwarding the addresses of its readers in need to its readers wishing to give. And this simple effort makes a world of difference for people like young Harry White.

As Christmas approaches this year, Harry writes a letter to the Evening World. The young child is a cripple and can't walk without the aid of a crutch. Unfortunately, his recently broke and the small boy's mother can't afford a new one. So, he's scratching out this letter to the Evening Post in hopes, he says, that Santa might remember him. The Evening World publishes Harry's letter. The very next day, a new set of crutches arrives at the newspaper's office.

Now, the newspaper doesn't tell us who among them then delivers the gift, but it does tell us Harry's reaction. The boy bursts into tears of joy. His mother, completely unaware of the letter, is left speechless. And the gifts to this destitute family don't stop there. The Evening World reports that, "...now money is coming in to pay the rent to the family, who are absolutely penniless and threatened with eviction in January."

Harry and his mother are among 247 families that the Evening World helps this Christmas. But Joseph Pulitzer and his team at the newspaper don't feel they've done enough. With a true sense of charity, they establish the Evening World Christmas Tree Fund. In their own words, this fund is established for, quote, "...the express purpose of providing for these more fortunate children lovers a mode of expressing their Christmas gift-giving spirit."

This same year, in this same city, some of New York's finest will eat luxury meals of several courses in Fifth Avenue hotels, while many of New York's poorest languish from hunger. But through this fund...

The Evening World will fulfill Joseph Pulitzer's mission of helping to alleviate the suffering in urban tenements, especially around the holidays. And by the time Nell Nelson walks through Starvation Alley in a few years, this fund will already be producing incredible results. Are you earning and investing in the stock market? In real estate? How about in relationships? Are you earning and investing in your life?

I'm Doc G, semi-retired hospice physician and host of the Earn and Invest podcast, where we have the 201 or next level conversations about money and life. Not only how you make money and grow it, but also how you use your wealth to create a better and more fulfilling existence. Join us every Monday and Thursday wherever you listen to fine podcasts. It's about 7 a.m. on a gray and foggy Christmas day, 1891.

We're at the famed steel industrialist Andrew Carnegie's new music hall on the corner of 57th Street and 7th Avenue in New York. But you won't find the venue's usual clientele of top hat and fur wearing New York elite here this morning. This is a slightly different crowd. Reports vary, but at least 2,500 and as many as 4,000 quote unquote sooty-faced poverty-stricken children are waiting to enter Andrew Carnegie's Temple of Music.

In the Man of Steel's characteristically charitable way, he and the hall's president, Mr. Morris Reno, have rented out his newly constructed music hall for one of Joseph Pulitzer's Evening World Christmas trees. See, in the three years since the Evening World Christmas Tree Fund began, the operation has grown significantly. This year, they're setting up seven Christmas trees in halls from Jersey City to Brooklyn, from Harlem to right here at Carnegie Hall in Manhattan.

between its now seven separate trees, the evening world, which, as the kids can tell you, is merely acting as Santa Claus's agent, of course, is providing gifts for tens of thousands of children. There are over 12,000 dolls alone, hailing from all over the world, reportedly, quote, robed in a manner to make the Fifth Avenue dressmakers envious, close quote. Classic Joseph Pulitzer reporting. Still getting in jabs at New York's wealthiest, even on Christmas.

But we're only getting started. Here's the whole picture across these seven locations.

Thanks to the generous donations of the world's readers, they've also amassed tens of thousands of, quote, toys, watches, music boxes, Indian rubber balls for the babies, and eccentric Japanese toys, riding desks, hobby horses, doll hammocks, Noah's arcs, doll carriages, horses and carts, locomotives and railway trains, kitchen sets, tea sets, jacks in the box, cups and balls, and other wonders, close quote.

It's not just toys these children are waiting for, though. Under the evening world Christmas trees scattered throughout New York, there are stacks and stacks of books for the children to take home as they learn to read, as well as clothes.

To quote The Evening World again, Close quote.

Last, and perhaps most stunningly of all, is the over six tons of candy. You heard that right. Six tons of chocolate, creams, almonds, caramels, crystallized fruits, and other sweets for the kids.

And that says nothing of the 20,000, quote, Oh, you heard that number correctly, too.

The Evening World has given out tickets to 32,000 children from New York's tenements to come get presents at one of the seven Christmas trees. To keep that number in perspective, that's more children than there are personnel in the United States Army in 1891. And as promised when this fun began, the global givers of these gifts include donations of all sizes.

We know that because some of the letters they wrote with their donations are published in the newspaper as well. Like this one from 11-year-old Charles McGurk of Hoboken, New Jersey. Enclosed, please find 10 cents for your Christmas tree fund from one of your little defenders. The heart is willing, but the pocket is light. Ah, Charlie. I'm sure he and the thousands of others who donate will never fully realize how their small donations are adding together to do an enormous amount of good. It's now 10 a.m.,

The children have been waiting patiently here at Carnegie Hall. But finally, as nearby church bells ring out, the Evening World staff throw open the doors and allow the throngs of children to rush in. Entering the luxurious concert hall, the children are in awe of the sight before them. The hall's president, Morris Reno, has had all the seats removed. In their stead is a gargantuan Christmas tree. It's decorated with all sorts of ornaments and lit with Japanese lanterns.

Below this majestic sight are thousands of presents. Meanwhile, a small orchestra plays delightfully on stage. Though it's doubtful whether the musicians can be heard over the excited children letting out exclamations of pure joy. For these thousands of impoverished kids so often passed by during the holiday season, all of this is proof that Santa hasn't forgotten about them.

This is Harriet Hubbard Eyre. The woman in charge of this tree is moved to tears as the children organize themselves to receive their gifts. So is the evening world journalist we met at the start of this episode, Nell Nelson. It's been almost a week since his eye-opening experience in Starvation Alley, and here he is on Christmas Day, contributing to Joseph Pulitzer's cause. Early in the day, a young boy with a crutch hobbles up to Harriet.

He's traveled over 20 blocks from his shanty on West 37th Street to be here. Tearfully, Harriet bends down on her knees and gives him a book, a game, and a mouth organ. She fills one of the boys' pockets with popcorn and the other with raisins. She then tucks an apple in his shirt, pins a box of candy to his button, and puts a hunk of gingerbread in one hand and a sprig of holly in the other. His eyes beam back at the kneeling, crying woman.

Then, with the aid of his crutches, he walks away, palpitating with happiness. Not long after, a little girl comes up to Harriet, ready for her gift. Harriet hands the child the usual sweets, then hands her a little doll. The girl's breath is taken away. Really? A doll? And all for her? She cries out with joy, hugs her new doll tight to her chest, and kisses its head twenty times before skipping away happily.

Next, a young boy with his arm in a splint comes up to Harriet. He shouts out, "Gosh!" as she hands him a dancing clown with a cap and bells. Now, not every gift is what a child hopes for, but even in these moments, these evening world workers make a bit of Christmas magic. As the numberless crowds of beggarly children make their way up to the giving stand, one little girl, Nanny, is absolutely excited as they hand her a huge box.

But when she opens it, the smile and sunshine in this poor girl's face begin to fade. The workers ask, "Don't you like it, Nanny?" She replies, with sadness in her voice, that she doesn't. Within the box is a child's cooking stove and a book. While both are considered excellent children's gifts, Nanny hoped Santa would bring something else. She explains, "They are nice, but all I wanted was a pair of stockings and a pair of mittens."

Mama and me wash. She takes in the washing, and I help. And I wanted Santa Claus to give her the mittens to wear when she hangs the clothes out, and I wanted the stockings. Flying into action to help this child who thinks of her mother before herself, the workers find a pair of mittens, exactly the kind that Nanny hoped to give her mother, and give her the money needed to buy a pair of stockings. The thoughtful girl sticks the money in her new book, and laying the mittens across her children's stove,

Joyfully departs, assured that Santa didn't forget her. Nell reports one final story of children getting gifts from the evening world. That of a young African-American girl named Leah. The workers find this small child being comforted by her mother in a corner of the room. It seems that Leah received a pink and yellow jack-in-the-box, but she finds it terrifying. Well, this will never do. They take little Leah to Harriet and ask what can be done.

Harriet turns back to the tree and produces for Leah a tennis net, a doll, a toy lamb and rooster, as well as a Christmas bell all wrapped up together. Little Leah is overcome with delight. Her mother cries out to Harriet and her fellow workers, quote, "Oh honey dear, may the good Lord of heaven bless you all." And so the gift giving goes all day long, bringing joy and laughter to those New York children who've never otherwise caught a break.

We don't know if the same family Mel Nelson met days earlier on Starvation Alley made it to one of the seven Evening World Christmas trees around New York, but we can hope that those nine siblings, 11 at heart, number among these 32,000 children today. But there is one thing we know for certain, that Joseph Pulitzer, a man too busy doing good to worry about theological dividing lines, truly became Gilded Age New York's real-life Santa Claus.

His Mike-giving evening world readers became his elves. Together, they gave an enormous number of impoverished children and their families a day, not just of presents, but of feeling seen, loved, valued. A Christmas day that Nell Nelson later reports to be the gladdest I ever saw. That's all there is about it. ♪

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