One afternoon here at the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, I was hunting through the many boxes of photos that comprise the Philadelphia Record Photograph Morgue looking for evidence of South Philadelphia life during the Great Depression era.  The Philadelphia Record was a newspaper published daily from 1882 to 1947, and the Historical Society houses the Record’s photograph “morgue”—over 150,000 items depicting every facet of life all over the Philadelphia region. The black-and-white prints span from 1920-47, and include both published and unpublished photographs. In this vast collection, I stumbled upon a folder filled with photos and captions that described the life of Ms. Bella Iveson, resident of 111 Washington Avenue, circa 1939.

According to the Record, Bella was one of the many South Philadelphians of the era living in the unsafe, unsanitary, slum housing of Philadelphia. Bella’s hopes were to move into the city’s proposed Old Swedes/ Southwark low-rent housing project to be built in her neighborhood.  Over the next few weeks I continued searching through newspaper articles, public records, pamphlets, reports, census data, and city directories hoping to find what became of Bella and her house along Washington Avenue. In the process, I discovered a dramatic  story of  heated feuding between political factions, ethnic groups, religious organizations, and the citizens of Southwark, over what would become of the 18 acres of land bound between Catharine Street, Delaware Avenue, Washington Avenue, and 2nd Street.   You can read the full story of the Old Swedes Housing Project on PhilaPlace.org.

The following text and photos are excerpted from the Philadelphia Record’s May 23, 1939 article about the life and conditions of the Iveson family.

The Ivesons Will Soon Be Moving From Their Bandbox: Homes of 383 Families to Be Razed for 18-Acre South Philadelphia $5,500,000 Low-Rent Project

OCCUPYING the nearer of this pair of bandbox houses (three rooms, one over the other) are Mrs. Bella Iveson, 30, a recent widow; her three children and mother. The house (on Washington Ave. near Front st.) and almost 400 other structures- 335 dwellings (housing 383 families), of which 245 are unsafe and unsanitary- are to be demolished to make way for Philadelphia Housing Authority’s $5,500,00 low-rental housing project in the area bounded roughly by Catharine and 2nd sts. and Washington and Delaware aves. With most of the 1600 residents, Mrs. Iveson, who has spent most of her life in the neighborhood welcomes the project, hopes to be one of its new tenants. It is designed to furnish 950 families (3800 persons) with modern housing. It will be open, under present plans, to families with less than $1000 annual income.

BATHING in Iveson home (no bathroom and only one water tap-cold, in kitchen) calls for tin tub and bucket of water heated on gas stove or coal range (which aided by small pot-bellied stove upstairs must heat the house, there being no furnace. Joan, 5 (goes to kindergarten, had to have tonsils out), huddled in the tub on a recent chilly morning, close to the range, while ablutions are carried on under draft breaking towel. Only alternative is to get shower (cost, one cent) at nearby settlement house and run home fast to avoid possible pneumonia on wintry days.

MAN of house is Freddie, 7, first grade pupil at George Washington Public School, picks wood to take home for the range. He fathers nails, selling them for couple pennies to junk men. Plays in street or lot rather than nearby Shot Tower Playground, because older boys “won’t let you play on the things,” Goes to movies once a week (four-hour show for 10 cents).

LIVING here is “too expensive” considering lack of comforts and environmental influences, say Mrs. Iveson as she pours formula for baby (Rose Marie, 4 months old) in kitchen which serves for everything but sleeping. The house is 70 years old, built of brick, looks out on freight trains on Washington ave., on debris covered lot on which two similar dwellings were pulled down recently before they fell down, on hodge-podge of crazy board fences. Mrs. Iveson pays $10 monthly rent. Coal, gas, electricity, food, clothing and incidentals run $50 more a month.

WASH is hung in dank, checkerboard-sized yard where sun has to struggle to enter. At rear is only toilet on property. Mrs. Iveson (worked once as sales girl in 5-and-10 cent store) is keeping family on money from husband’s insurance. Husband (Fred, 44, a pipefitter who once made “good money,” late a seaman) was killed a month ago in automobile accident. Insurance was $900, of which $600 was spent for burial and lot. She has $180 left. If no income source develops she’ll have to apply for relief.

ALL FIVE sleep in the same room on the second floor. In winter, even with little stove going full blast, they shiver under the covers, They burn about half ton of coal a month. In summer ice is picked up when dumped from refrigerator cars on Delaware ave. Top room (used for storing) is tiny, frigid in winter, insufferable in summer. Children go to bed at 8 P.M., Mrs. Iveson at 11. She’s up again at 7 A.M. and the youngsters an hour later. Nights punctuated by horns shrieking from the river, puffing engines crashing freight cars against on another from the  tracks.

FOR LUNCH at kitchen table ($2.50 new, with four chairs – “you can get bargains if you look sharp”), the Ivesons and her mother, Mrs. Mary Wyruchowski, have home-made vegetable soups (25 cents for about three quarts of it), bread (day-old at 6 cents loaf), left over meat loaf. One advantage of neighborhood is food is cheap and good, says Mrs. Iveson. She shops at Dock st. (for produce and fish in large quantity) and in 4^th st, curb market below South St. Has but few recreations. Walks in nearby Old Swedes’ Church graveyard, visits next door with sister and brother-in-law, Douglas V. Howard, who just makes a living breeding pedigreed spaniels and terriers.

CLOTHING can be picked up cheap along 4^th st. But fitting and quality haphazard and Jobian patience a requisite. Mrs. Iveson paid 35 cents for the dress she has on, the same for silk slip, 69 cents for her shoes. She buys trousers for Freddie at 35 cents, shirts 25 cents, other things in proportion. Shopping’s one of her few pleasure and she has to do a lot of it, particularly for food. That’s because of Freddie’s appetite. For dinner one day he ate three boiled eggs, eight slices of bread and butter, a large meat pie and half of a 10-inch coconut pie.

Amanda Zellner has been a student historian for PhilaPlace through  Drexel University’s co-op program since June 2009.