“The bread line is perhaps the most picturesque and one of the best-known charities in the world.” – New York Times, 1904
Louis Fleischmann seems like a man who was waiting for his calling. Born in Vienna in 1836, he enlisted in the Austrian army, and displayed remarkable bravery as a cavalry officer. In the Battle of Sadowa in 1866, his horse was shot out from under him...twice! For his courage he received two medals from Emperor Franz Josef himself. But the cavalry was not to be his destiny.
Instead, Louis followed his brothers to America, where they were making a fortune selling their patented compressed yeast. You may be familiar with Fleischmann’s dry yeast, or have seen the little yellow packets in the supermarket.
Brave Louis didn’t know anything about baking, but that didn’t stop him from his first American venture: establishing a massive, stunning bake shop at the 1876 Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia. His “Vienna Model Bakery” was a huge success; the bread and rolls it produced won high awards. It was here Louis introduced his “Vienna Bread,” a delicate, sweet, buttery loaf, and his famous Kaiser Rolls, which New Yorkers enjoy to this day as part of their egg sandwich breakfast.
Louis Fleischmann’s popular bakery at the 1876 Centennial Exhibition. Select to enlarge any image. Phone users: finger-zoom or rotate screen.
Inspired by this accomplishment, Louis opened a Vienna Model Bakery on Broadway and 10th Street. The location was choice: right next door to the “posh” Grace Church, and across the street from the popular Wanamaker’s store. Foot traffic included everyone from theatre-goers to gee-gaws to opera stars. Louis had to open an additional baking facility on 13th Street to keep up with the crowds. Every day, 210 men baked 15,000 loaves of Vienna Bread in 13 massive ovens.
Fleischmann’s Bakery adjacent to Grace Church on Broadway, 1893. (New York Historical Society)
Despite his success, Louis had not yet found his true calling. Then one day it showed up. He was passing by a group of down-on-their-luck men outside the bakery, who were standing over a sidewalk grate just to inhale the aromas coming from his basement ovens. He immediately gave them bread.
Word got around fast. Soon dozens of hungry men were lining up at the bakery. Rather than feeling put-upon, Louis was frankly astounded by such widespread destitution, especially during the so-called “prosperous” Gay Nineties. He just couldn’t say “no” to hungry people.
The news spread that Fleischmann would give out bread every evening at 11 pm, until the last loaf was handed out at 1 am. A line of up to 500 people formed every night, reaching around the block, drenched by the rain or shivering in the cold, waiting for hours just for a half-loaf of bread. And Louis Fleischmann was there helping out every night, befriending many, asking each if they needed a job. The sight of so many waiting men hit a nerve, and was featured in the newspapers. A new phrase appeared in the nation’s lexicon: bread line.
The hungry line up at Fleischmann’s.
Then the controversy began. Is Fleischmann distinguishing the “deserving poor” from the “undeserving poor”? Or is he just handing out food to anyone who shows up? That’s against all the rules of modern charity! There could be delinquent low-lifes on that line, deadbeats who aren’t even looking for a job. Or what about those who are just pretending to be poor? Do they deserve free bread? If this trend continues, there’ll be bread lines all across the city!
Louis, courageous as ever, was unmoved by the criticism, responding, “If a man will stand on a curb for two or three hours in all kinds of weather to get half a loaf of bread or a few rolls, he’s hungry. That’s enough for me.”
He went further. He added free coffee to the menu. He donated and delivered bread to many of the city’s hospitals. He developed a kind of ad-hoc employment bureau at the bakery, which connected destitute men with prospective employment. Dozens of men a day were directed to positions through Louis’ bureau.
As the years passed, his generosity kept growing. Louis became a philanthropist, personally donating his fortune to worthy causes, hospitals, and individuals. The New York Times said, “All of his gifts were bestowed directly; he took no part in organized charity.”
Louis was answering his calling. And he was also answering letters, from grateful people who said his bread line tided them over when it seemed as if all was lost.
When Louis died in 1904, his sons took over the family business. They worked to preserve their father’s treasured achievements: the Vienna Model Bakery, and the line of hungry, thankful people surrounding it, until the bakery closed many years later. But the impact of Louis Fleischmann, the man who invited the hungry to form a line at his door, continues to this day.
