Step into a candlelit print shop of the early 1800s, where newspapers gave America its voice, each word pressed by hand shaping the conscience and character of a young republic.

Step into a candlelit print shop of the early 1800s, where newspapers gave America its voice, each word pressed by hand shaping the conscience and character of a young republic.

Step into a candlelit print shop of the early 1800s, where newspapers gave America its voice, each word pressed by hand shaping the conscience and character of a young republic.

Step into a candlelit print shop of the early 1800s, where newspapers gave America its voice, each word pressed by hand shaping the conscience and character of a young republic.

"Bathrooms" in the early 1900's were not like bathrooms today. In Fact, only 14 percent of the homes had a bathtub. Modern bathrooms were typically a luxury in more affluent urban and suburban areas.

A typical 1-pound loaf of bread cost about 7¢ nationally in 1915. The U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics gives that figure in its historical comparison of 1915 prices. That equates to roughly $2.30–$2.40 in today's purchasing power, depending on which inflation measure/current year you use. The more important historical point is that 7 cents was a meaningful everyday purchase, not pocket change.

The best broad figure is about $11.22 per week for a manufacturing / factory worker production worker in 1915. Historical Statistics of the United States gives $11.22 as the average weekly earnings for manufacturing production workers.

When I got off the train at Grand Central in the spring of 1920, New York hit me like a bass drum—loud, fast, and impossible to ignore. I’d just come back from Paris, and my French was still sharper than my English. But the moment I set foot in Harlem, I felt it deep in my chest: I was home.

I was 16 when I found the saxophone—well, more like it found me. My brother had joined the Navy and left behind a battered case in our attic in New Orleans. I opened it one humid afternoon in July. Inside was a curved brass horn, dulled but still proud, like something from another world.

The winter wind had barely let up as I stepped off the trolley on West 82nd Street, collar turned up, gloves thin from wear. The streetlamps glowed like halos in the mist. It was 1910, and I was 17, restless, and certain that music could change the world—or at least change me.

The Overland Car Company brought the automobile within reach of America’s middle class, with the Model 15 carrying families from horse-drawn days into the motor age.