Excerpt from The Jungle (1906)
Upton Sinclair was a prolific writer who became acquainted with socialist philosophy while he was in college in New York City. In 1904 the editors of a magazine where he was working asked him to investigate conditions in the stockyards of Chicago. The resulting novel, The Jungle, was first published in the magazine Appeal to Reason. It in 1906 it was published in book form, and although harsh and shocking in its graphic depictions of the horrors of the slaughterhouses, it became a great commercial success. President Theodore Roosevelt read the novel and worked with Congress to address the problems which Sinclair's book raised. The result was publication of the Pure Food and Drug Act of 1906. Sinclair thus joined the ranks of the muckrakers. Later in his life he ran for governor of California unsuccessfully under the Socialist party banner.
There was another interesting set of statistics that a person might have gathered … The workers in each [room] had their own peculiar diseases. And the wandering visitor might be skeptical about all the swindles [he had heard about], but he could not be skeptical about these, for the worker bore the evidence of them about on his own person—generally he had only to hold out his hand.
There were the men in the pickle rooms, for instance … scarce a one of these had not some spot of horror on his person. Let a man so much as scrape his finger pushing a truck in the pickle rooms, and he might have a sore that would put him out of the world; all the joints in his fingers might be eaten by the acid, one by one. Of the butchers and floormen, the beef boners and trimmers, and all those who used knives, you could scarcely find a person who had the use of his thumb; time and time again the base of it had been slashed, till it was a mere lump of flesh against which the man pressed the knife to hold it. The hands of these men would be crisscrossed with cuts, until you could no longer pretend to count them or to trace them. They would have no nails—they had worn them off pulling hides; their knuckles were swollen so that their fingers spread out like a fan. There were men who worked in the cooking rooms, in the midst of steam and sickening odors, by artificial light; in these rooms the germs of tuberculosis might live for two years, but the supply was renewed every hour. There were the beef loggers, who carried two-hundred-pound quarters into the refrigerator cars, a fearful kind of work, that began at four o'clock in the morning, and that wore out the most powerful man in a few years. There were those who worked in the chilling rooms, and whose special disease was rheumatism; the time limit that a man could work in the chilling rooms was said to be five years. There were the wool pluckers, whose hands went to pieces even sooner than the hands of the pickle men; for the pelts of the sheep had to be painted with acid to loosen the wool, and then the pluckers had to pull out this wool with their bare hands, till the acid had eaten their fingers off. There were those who made the tins for the canned meat, and their hands, too, were a maze of cuts, and each cut represented a chance for blood poisoning. Some worked at the stamping machines, and it was very seldom that one could work long there at the pace that was set, and not give out and forget himself, and have a part of his hand chopped off. There were the "hoisters," as they were called, whose task it was to press the lever which lifted the dead cattle off the floor. They ran along upon a rafter, peering down through the damp and the steam, and as old Durham's architects had not built the killing room for the convenience of the hoisters, at every few feet they would have to stoop under a beam, say four feet above the one they ran on, which got them into the habit of stooping, so that in a few years they would be walking like chimpanzees. Worst of any, however, were the fertilizer men, and those who served in the cooking rooms. These people could not be shown to the visitor—for the odor of a fertilizer man would scare any ordinary visitor at a hundred yards, and as for the other men, who worked in tank rooms full of steam and in some of which there were open vats near the level of the floor, their peculiar trouble was that they fell into the vats; and when they were fished out, there was never enough of them left to be worth exhibiting—sometimes they would be overlooked for days, till all but the bones of them had gone out to the world as Durham's Pure Leaf Lard!
The entire book is available on line at Google Books