Mr. Chairman, Ladies and Gentlemen:

To talk of playground beginnings, I should remind those of our guests whose memories are long of a little society that flourished from 1885 for twenty years or more.

Its three honored presidents were Dr. Francis Minot, Dr. John Homans, 2nd, and Dr. James J. Minot. Its founder, and moving spirit, was Mrs. Kate Gannett Wells. She was Chairman of its Executive Committee throughout its term of service, and was the dynamo that kept its wheels in rapid and efficient motion. This association had many activities and we felt that we did good work and helped humanity to a healthier and happier mode of living.

It was in 1886 that Dr. Zakrzewska wrote to Mrs. Wells, chairman of our Executive Committee, asking if the Association could not arrange to place sand piles in which children might dig and play, in the public parks of Boston as was done in Berlin. There, she said, the boys and girls, rich and poor, princeling and peasant, played together under the supervision of the police.

This seemed rather idyllic, but, nothing daunted, we dumped three loads of yellow sand in three dark corners of the North End, and they were much enjoyed by the babies of the neighborhood. The next year there were ten heaps of yellow sand in the grounds of institutions or near by where the little children were watched over by the officials or inmates; and we called them Sand Gardens.

The following year when the chairman of the Sand Garden Committee was touring the city, in search of more obscure corners, she chanced to pass a school yard-wide, clean, airy, enclosed and always shady on one side or the other of the building. What possibilities were there for a glorified Sand Garden!

At the next meeting of the Executive Committee she told of her discovery and drew a picture of thousands of children, in many or all of the school yards, happily occupied, trained and taught by competent matrons, provided with swings and tilts,

•Address delivered at dinner tendered Miss Tower as the Mother of Playgrounds, Boston, Mass., Dec. 8, 1926.

with toys, books, games and work; of happiness and joy and therefore virtue and righteousness; of the whole community reformed through the influence of boys and girls themselves made true and noble by the influences surrounding them in our playgrounds!

I fear that even the great success of the present National Playground Association has not wrought the miracle of which she dreamed. The Executive Committee was appreciative and cordial and at once applied to the School Committee for permission to use such School yards as were suitable for playgrounds.

Consent was granted willingly and seven yards equipped with big sand pens with covers that were locked at night, with some toys and plenty of pails and shovels, were opened, I think, for only four days in the week. The matrons then and afterwards were chosen for their force of character, tact, love of children, patience, and their ability to sing. Soon kindergarten teachers were engaged, as their skill in games and knowledge of handicrafts were most important.

The playgrounds were supervised by one or more members of the Committee but visiting school yards on hot summer days was difficult for many who lived out of town, and a general superintendent was found necessary, to supplement their work. The children were contented and interested after they became accustomed to kindness, but in the beginning the boys usually dodged a possible blow when approached by a grown up.

In 1890, mainly through the efforts of Mrs. Randall and Miss Bemis of Medford, who were members of our Playground Committee, a play room was opened for the winter in an unoccupied school building on Sheafe Street.

In 1891 by the help of other hands and hearts and $550.00 given by the Saturday Morning Club, "The Children's House" was established in Parmenter Street. In the following year that was incorporated in the North End Union, of which Mr. Samuel Hubbard was Superintendent. Year by year the attendance increased at the play

grounds. It seemed to be a question of money. Every dollar added to the subscriptions brought automatically a new child to the yards.

During the whole period of our management the cost per child per season was a little less than one dollar. In 1898 I have a record of Mr. Lee speaking at our Annual Meeting which shows that we were gaining in favor and in 1902 I find I quoted Mr. Lee's "a boy without a playground is father to the man without a job" and Jacob Riis's "joyless children do not make good men." In 1899 under Mayor Quincy the School Committee granted "three thousand dollars for expenses connected with the opening of certain school yards during the summer vacation to be spent under the direction of the Massachusetts Emergency and Hygiene Association."

Then we became of interest to the world, and twenty-one school yards were used, the daily attendance rose in 1900 to 4,390 and the expenses were $4280.00. Salaries amounted to $2942.34.

In 1901 the Gymnasium at Charlesbank-the first open air gymnasium in the world-was opened and the M. E. & H. Association was asked by the Park Commission to take charge of the Women's Department. Many members of the Playground Committee aided in this task but the chief burden fell on Mrs. Kate Gannett Wells and Mrs. Francis H. Williams. In 1901 we undertook to study the gang by employing two young men to entertain older boys in a separate yard and Dana Brown to look after the young ruffians of twelve and fourteen at Hancock School. Mr. Brown was expected to live in the neighborhood, to loaf about the corners at night with the boys and to reserve for himself only so much time as was necessary to preserve his physical health and mental balance. A number of gentlemen agreed to visit him at intervals to remind him that he belonged to their world. The boys thought it natural for him to live near his work, the playground, and felt that he was a friend without an ulterior motive-even a good one. Unfortunately he was called away to fill an important position in Philadelphia and left, he wrote us afterwards, "with a grand send-off from 200 boys." The next morning his boys appeared as usual at the gate of the yard and were surprised to be told by the matrons, who had four hundred small people of their own to look after, that they could not enter. Mr. Brown had gone and they were too big for Sand Gardens.

were very small, and finally, to make a definite distinction, were told that only little fellows wearing knickerbockers were admitted. The next morning the same group drew up in a row before the gate, arrayed in all shapes and sizes of short trousers and knickerbockers. The matrons laughed but answered once more—“No, you are too big," then the persistent boys pointed to one of their own mates already within the circle, and were met by the explanation that he was "taking care of his little sister, no big boy can come in unless he carries a baby." The crowd melted, an hour passed and the urchins again stood triumphantly before the matrons, each bearing aloft a baby, one of them only two months old, and all borrowed for the occasion. This broke down the guard of the matrons and the boys marched in to remain “just as long as they held the babies in their arms." Needless to say those babies were soon returned to their mothers and, if I remember correctly, those youngsters made no more disturb

ance.

The best friends of the matrons and the children were the police. In the beginning they were pessimistic and discouraging. "It can't be done," they said; but soon their attitude changed and they became our defenders and protectors. The cop is so important in the life of the street boy that the appeal to him is constant. One little girl advising a teacher in regard to an unruly brother said, "No, don't tell father or mother. He is a bold one, he is-tell the cop." But another boy of 14 announced that he "was not afraid of a Cop" he had been arrested five times already.

Perhaps you will allow me to repeat an old tale that I call my favorite police story. Please remember that this was in the Victorian Era, when Boston was an unfailing source of amusement to the New York newspapers, and the little green car ran down Marlboro Street and its conductors were Latin scholars and knew about the Punic Wars. One hot summer day I was visiting Sand Gardens and, climbing into an electric car, sat down beside a blue-coated policeman. He had rather a grand air but my courage was good and, thinking his beat might be near one of the yards I spoke to him, explained my mission, and asked his assistance and cooperation, saying that the matrons were annoyed by the older boys and sidewalk loafers but that the "little children were all right."

"No, madame," he replied, "the little children

madame, they have not the conditions." Then lifting his head he continued, "Athens, Greece, had a great people because they looked on noble buildings and beautiful statues. What can you expect of South Boston?"

Some of our matrons applied, some we obtained by inquiring at kindergarten training schools and at Sargent's gymnasium. Many of them were teachers who wearied of the idleness of the long vacation, and who were eager to earn money. When it was known that instead of becoming exhausted-although the first weeks were hard-the matrons improved in health and looks-the summer tan was often becoming-there was no difficulty except in making a selection.

We got along with the janitors. Extremely well. Most of them objected to us very strongly in the beginning but soon became interested, were kind to the children and helpful to the matrons. One man came early to remove the heavy covers from the sand box and returned later to put them on again because he "could not allow a lady to do that." Several refused the small fee we offered at the end of the season saying "No, you need it for the children, spend it for them."

One janitor was useful in his own yard in the morning and took his little grandchild to another in the afternoon.

In the meantime all around us playgrounds were arising. The National Playground Association was started. All the great cities and many towns, most of whom had come to Boston for suggestions and information, were planning for open spaces, for parks and public playgrounds. The seed sown by humble hands was bearing fruit.

The generous dole from the School Committee continued for only two years. The Committee on Public Buildings, from whose funds (I think, but I am not sure) the $3,000 was drawn, were said to have remarked that if they paid for the playgrounds they preferred to manage them, which was certainly natural. In the records of the M. E. & H. Association I find this entry-"The School Committee, thinking that the time draws near when play should be considered an integral part of education, and that, therefore, the playgrounds and vacation schools should be alike under the direction of our own Board, declined to bestow money on the M. E. & H. Association"; but they promised to provide four playgrounds in connection with the vacation schools. They also opened later twenty-one yards for the use of the children but only slight supervision. This was

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the beginning of the end, the end for which we had been working. At last the city was rousing itself to an appreciation of the importance of playgrounds.

San Francisco Protests.

In the February issue of THE PLAYGROUND there appeared an article telling about the Tennis Tournament held during December in Jacksonville, Florida, which the Playground and Recreation Board claimed "to be the only outdoor tennis tournament held at this time of the year." The San Francisco Playground Commission cannot agree to this! Miss Veda B. Young, secretary of the Commission, has written that between October, 1926, and February, 1927, the Commission. held its eighth annual outdoor tennis tournament in which 2,030 were entered. The tournament was divided into eight classes, four for girls and four for boys.

Class I Children through 11 years.

That "Satan finds mischief for idle hands to do" has been drummed into our ears as children and into the ears of our grandparents. One may, it is true, add to this that Satan just now is having the time of his life, that he is now being given opportunities he never before could have dreamed of; but this, too, is a commonplace, the new leisure has been so much commented upon, the lessened hours of work and the greater freedom -the by-products of invention.

In my first job, back in 1890, I worked from 8 a. m. to 6 p. m., and I worked not five or six, but seven days a week. My second job had the same hours and the same days. What a contrast between the beginning of my generation and now! We did not know that there was a leisure problem. We associated leisure with old age and decrepitude. Those of us who were interested. in educational matters and had an idea that our schools should provide a cultural background for life, thought chiefly of the value of this to the old people. We were endeavoring to prevent that most tiresome condition, that of the antique one with no resources of his own. There is something very trying, though, of course, also pitiable, in an old person physically disabled but with no knowledge of other than the physical enjoyments appropriate to youth.

Aristotle, indeed, living in an aristocracy, knew of the larger problem. He recognized that leisure itself must be provided for. "It is evident," he

Address given at Recreation Congress, Atlantic City. New Jersey, October 21, 1926.

says, "that to live a life of rest there are things a man must learn and be instructed in." But, as with so much of the old wisdom, this thought of his was lost in the general scramble for existence and is only now in the process of re-discovery.

But let us go back to the adage concerning Satan and mischief. This has acquired a new implication. Satan, it was promised, would take advantage of idle hands. It was, then, work that was demanded to save us from Satan's wiles.

How is it today? It seems, if we are now to keep Satan off, it must be not with work but with play. Work has been condemned. The tradition of the Garden of Eden has been, unfortunately, accepted and now all effort is being made to reduce work to a minimum. But here is a difficulty. Evil as work is thought to be, the fact is that man through the centuries has actually learned to work, and he has learned so well that he has forgotten how to play. Now, when at last the opportunity and necessity for play have arrived, he can only fumble at them.

So here, I say, is a difficulty, a dilemma-we must now play to keep ourselves out of mischief, and, not knowing how to play, our attempts, instead, often lead us into it. Man, today, at play is at best often foolish, and he may be even criminal.

Life has become artificial, and play, too, has become artificial. We seek now in our so-called play, not a true relaxation or recreation-we seek a stimulation. We are never so in need of a rest

as when we come back from our vacations. We have, I say, forgotten how to play. Even the children of the city-and this means most children-now seek play in play substitutes. Witness the movies and the host of infants they hold in bondage.

But not only have we forgotten how to playwe now generally hire others to do it for us. We have even forgotten the principles of play. We have, for instance, come to consider victory as the end, the essential, of our sports; while the truly important part--the play, itself-has now become secondary. A man goes fishing and returns tired and disgusted because he has made only a small catch. The true fisherman comes back, perhaps with no fish at all, but proclaiming to the world that he has had a perfect day. And so it is with all other forms of play. The real zest, the real pleasure, the real value, are in the play, itself. And when we substitute the idea of victory, then we are really engaging in just another form of business. Moreover we become, thereby, bad losers and bad losers have no claim to sportsmanship, no matter how many cups they may win. Society, today, has many problems, but there are few greater than this of learning how to use our leisure. We are seeking today for the source of a hypothetical crime wave, just as each generation before us has done, and, patriotically, we are seeking it in the effects of immigration and other like causes. But might it not be more useful, even if not quite so patriotic, to look for its origin in our own basic characteristics?

Let me quote from an article of mine in the Century Magazine:

"Our streets are now filled with roving crowds of the idle and restless. These people do not know what to do with themselves. They know nothing of healthful play; their athletics they get only from the side-lines; and as for cultural diversions, they have for these but a withering contempt. Entertainment, amusement, stimulationlargely physical-have become, seemingly, the main quest in life.

"Then think, too, of the new economic freedom of youth and the resulting possibility of gratifying many adolescent desires. But adolescent desires never get satisfied, and, finally, there is reached a point which no honestly earned wage is high enough to cover, and other sources of income must be discovered."

Is there a connection between leisure and

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The excited brain makes extravagant demands. These youths know well that if they get only what they are truly worth they will not get much. So they do not even try. They learn no useful trades. They turn at once to the greater possibilities of crime-a calling which, in itself, offers many pleasing thrills and attractions. We have a new criminal in the court today-no beetlebrowed thug, but a fine, upstanding youth who has gone into the thing purely as a sporting" proposition, promising large returns.

I have spoken of Satan. Here is a curious reflection a little far-fetched, it may be, but still pertinent. In the early days, Satan was believed to be one of the great deposed pagan Gods. Think of the roving crowds I have just mentioned, and think especially of Saturday. Saturday is the day sacred to Saturn. Is it not now being celebrated quite appropriately by a sort of Saturnalia, with tumult and din, with noisy crowded highways, with joy-rides and excursions to amusement parks and road houses, and by other feverish search for excitement? Our week-ends run high | in accident mortality and in crime.

In our studies of delinquency, we have long ago arrived at the conclusion that for any bettering of society we must go back to elemental principles. We know now that life is so complex that there can be no simple formula for the cure of its evils. We have tried formulas. We have tried, for instance, punishment. We have applied, at various times in the past, and for long periods, every torture that man and the Devil have been able to think up between them. We have even tried killing our offenders. And while this last has, indeed, succeeded so far as the individual has been concerned-a successful hanging being always a serious matter, one that may be guaranteed to keep a man from ever again committing an offense-still, even this, as a social and preventive measure, may be considered to be of doubtful value.

It is always possible, you know, that brutality from those in power may be reflected by a general brutality, and that in endeavoring to correct society's delinquents by too harsh methods, we may eventually do harm by making society, itself, more recalcitrant or indifferent.

When England hanged pickpockets, the scene of execution was the happy hunting ground of the pickpocket fraternity, and many were the ribald jibes hurled alike at the dangling victim and at