THE FAMILY HOUSE
WHAT we all want," said a stevedore to me wistfully, as if he were asking for the moon, " is a little house and a bit of garden. We all hate these flats. It's difficult to get a little house; they're all snapped up in no time."
The housing problem for the East End and other large industrial areas has always been a difficult one. It is going to be still more difficult if we rebuild on an enlightened plan. The huge blocks of flats have been a social failure and a domestic tragedy. The new estates, with their higher rents and the daily bus fares, have failed to provide the solution. Men like living near their work, among their fellows. More- over, who will be bold enough to say that the formation of a new estate for workmen of one wage level is a good exercise in social judgement?
What we need to do is something very different. We need to create a community life in which men and women of different wage levels mix freely, each with their contribution to make to the common cause. The suburban life of our big cities, with families living in splendid isolation oblivious or actively hostile to the man next door, has contributed largely to the inability of so many to appreciate the problems of their neighbours. It has helped to make them unsympathetic and hard. It has allowed them to build up fences of self-interest over which their fellows are not expected to look. " I do no harm " is their cry, and by it, they mean, " I mind my business; you mind yours."
All our plans for the future must have for their goal the breaking down of barriers between neighbour and neighbour. The huge gulf which lies now between rich and poor must be narrowed and the idea that what concerns us does not concern others must be swept aside. Those who plan and those who build must do so as if planning and building for themselves. The " we " and "they " attitude to life must be renounced. There must be a fresh determination to provide what the facts state to be wanted and not what individual professional men or vested interests think there ought to be.
What is most wanted, in every area, is a great development of the community centre idea, without the charity and without the patronage. Small houses and small gardens are not, as far as I can see, going to be easy to provide. But even if there has got to be some compromise between the barrack block and the little house, there can still be communal gardens, with separate plots, communal parks and playgrounds, and a com- munal centre or " family house."
" Family " would be the basis of the development of these centres. That is they would serve everyone. Within its walls and grounds every educational and recreational activity would go on. It would be used by babies, by children and by parents. Spinsters would find an outlet there; old-age pensioners new life. There would be a lending library and reading rooms ; swimming bath and gymnasium, art rooms and music rooms. There would be a restaurant and dining rooms, a play room for noisy games and a quiet room for gossip and cups of tea. There would be a nursery, where mothers could leave their babies for an hour. There would be clubs of all kinds. It would be a hive of industry, interest and pleasure.
The city or borough councils would run these centres ; that is they would have control. They would house all their present activities under one roof. But all using them would need to help. Groups of housewives could combine to serve a mid-day meal. There would be a rota of service. Men also would give their service in practical ways. The centres would relieve drudgery, encourage new pursuits, widen interests and through extended leisure and the use of it, promote happiness.
For the old-age pensioner life would start afresh. I see him living not in one room, as at present, but in two. Small rooms for single persons, and larger ones for couples. A plot of ground would be attached. The pensioner would make great use of the " family house." He would have his mid-day dinner there for the price of 4d., which he could afford to pay. Before this war the old-age pensioner who had no means beside his pension and what could be wrung from Public Assistance, lived on about is. per day after rent and other dues had been paid. Most pensioners live alone, paying rents varying from 5 to 7 shillings, and the shilling a day covered food, clothes, heating and washing. On paper the old age-pensioner is now somewhat better off. With his supplementary pension he has nearly LI per week, but it is doubtful if it really enables him to buy more, although he enjoys drawing the money as a right. The fact to grasp is that the shilling a day never did meet the expenses of the pensioner and in the very poor districts it was only the churches and the charitable institutions which made life possible. One of the outstanding necessities was for the cheap (below cost price) dinner each day. The " family hOuse " would not only provide this dinner, it would provide the daily round. For a great many men, such as miners and stevedores, who had given of their physical best during their early years, life on the dole was to be suc- ceeded by life on the old-age pension—a kind of non-stop living death—for the progress of medical science keeps these men alive. They had nothing much to live for. Good housing, good food and the activities of the " family house " would transform their prospects. A few pence in their pockets for cigarettes, sweets and beer would make it " home."
It would be life renewed, too, for the working wife. From a bright young girl, she passes now, in the course of half a dozen years into an unkempt, old young woman. She is to all appearances, a slut. Yearly pregnancies, which she still regards as acts of God incapable of control, undermine her health. The business of trying to run a home of too many children, on too little money, with probably another child on the way, is too much for her. She loses her grip and at the same time, most probably, the affection and interest of her husband.
For her the important thing is the development of the " clinic " so that it covers every period of her life. But in no place can the clinic be better developed than in a building to which she is already accustomed to go. The " family house " would serve this purpose. More than half the battle is breaking down prejudice and a woman will only reveal details of her condition to those who have her confidence.
But in the centre, apart from advantages to her health, the wife would be living a life of her own. She would be able to rid herself for an hour or so of her children. She would be able to have a quiet cup of tea and gossip. She would be able to join a dressmaking class and in taking a renewed interest in the fashion books, improve her self-respect and incidentally retain her husband's interest. Husband and wife could visit the centre together, perhaps to dance or otherwise amuse them- selves, perhaps to part for their sundry occupations for the evening. Nevertheless they would both be there together and the bond, forged in walking-out days, would not be so easily broken as it is at present.
I have concentrated here on those whose incomes are paid in weekly wages. I have done so because they are not only most numerous (about three-quarters of the earning population) but also in the greatest need. No one, who knows anything about the areas where people of small wages live, can fail to appreciate the heavy penalty people pay for the difficulties of their economy and the consequent ill-health. Many homes are unhappy ones. Many homes are the scene of continual bickering and strife. Although physical violence and drink is less common there are still many homes where the husband stays out because there is nothing to attract him to come home.
Yet the need of the suburban dweller, who has a work ticket in one area and a sleeping berth in another—the commuter, as America calls him—is very nearly as great. His domestic isolation may be splendid ; it is also very lonely. The sub- urban wife is a modern problem ; no wonder the slum-dweller rehoused on a new estate wants to get back to the friendliness of the East End streets. " Family Houses " are very necessary for the suburban wife even if she can afford to feed herself and her sexual problem is not " reckless breeding " but an enforced sterility. More than anyone the " suburbanite " needs to learn that though he may climb from the pit of poverty he may yet lose his understanding.
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