The Closure of the Free Employment Bureau
Everett’s decision to shutter its city-run employment office leaves unemployed laborers at the mercy of predatory agencies.
The story, cleaned up
A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.
The rigid economy made necessary by the lack of finances in the city's strong box is felt severely by all classes of people, but the man out of a job feels the blow more keenly than anyone else. The closing of the city's free employment office is a matter of passing regret to some, but to the man-out-of-work, it is nothing less than a tragedy. Most men who go to an employment office for a job are practically without money. The giving up of a dollar or two to an employment man for the privilege of going to a job that may or may not exist—for many have been stung by unscrupulous agencies—is a hardship. The city employment office, as conducted by Clerk Norland, proved a real civic blessing. It was run on the square; employers learned that it tried to furnish them reliable help, and the worker learned the agent had no interest in fleecing him. The Journal sympathizes with the men today, and suggests that when the city begins to move off financial shoals, the free employment bureau should be the first thing re-established.
“The man out of a job is kicking about it today and the Journal sympathizes with him. We'd help him if we could.”
Everett's 1911 struggle to balance its budget while maintaining public services for the most vulnerable residents is a recurring theme in municipal governance. Today’s debates over funding for homeless services and workforce development programs echo this century-old tension between austerity and public support.
From readers
No comments yet. If you know something about this story — a correction, a family memory, a source — it belongs here.