May in Cleveland

Last January, Berlin's Der Angriff reported that "65,000 persons are starving and freezing in the streets of Cleveland." This was an exaggeration but it was true that relief agencies in Cleveland--where 300,000 of the 1,200,000 population receive some kind of Governmental aid and 75,000 are on direct relief--had broken down almost completely for six days. Last week, Cleveland's relief funds gave out again. This time, in the mild spring weather, there was no danger of freezing, but lines of people, some of them women with children in their arms, lengthened outside the city's relief stations. At two stations, applicants sat down, refused to budge for two days. At another a dozen or so formed a brass band to entertain their fellows. Said welfare office Supervisor Delia Milder: "They are sort of desperate now. They have been very tense."

In addition to being tense, Cleveland's most wretched citizens were undoubtedly very hungry. One destitute mother of seven children who was expecting an eighth fed her family through neighbors' aid. The menu: breakfast, bread and tea; lunch, spaghetti and bread; dinner, bread and salmon. The children shared a quart of milk. A 76-year-old woman who said she had not had a square meal for six days waited from 5 to 8 a. m., for a relief station to open its doors. Another fainted, was taken to a hospital for treatment, then released. A Mrs. Florence Barindt had received no relief money for herself and her three children since mid-April. The Barindt larder contained a can of salt, a box of starch, a cake of soap and an onion.

Cleveland's relief crisis last week was only the most spectacular part of a State-wide situation which has been growing worse all winter. A special session of the State Legislature adjourned the end of February without solving the relief problem, has since been called to meet in another special session for the purpose. Relief funds began to run out in Cleveland last month. Last week, most of the city's 800 relief workers, who had all been discharged because there was no money for their pay checks, stayed on as volunteers. The city council raised a $50,000 stopgap appropriation which had been used up by last week's end. While breadless breadlines lengthened and the city council met to think up some sort of new emergency solution to tide the city over through the month or so until funds appear. Mayor Harold Hitz Burton made what was apparently meant to be a reassuring statement: "Although there are no funds available, no one will starve."

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