Suffer The Little Children

By NANCY GIBBS

Like breadlines and Hoovervilles, sweatshops and child labor were supposed to be relics of an uglier era. Yet behind barricaded storefronts in Sunset Park, Brooklyn, N.Y., immigrant women huddle over sewing machines, stitching $2 blouses that stores sell for $15.99. Beside them work children, some as young as eight, snipping thread and bagging dresses for as little as $2.50 an hour. The narrow aisles of the garment factories are cluttered beyond hope of reaching a fire exit, which in many instances are blocked by debris. In one plant, the wall around the plastic crucifix is peeling, the tin ceiling sagging, the floor ankle deep in tissue, scraps, foam and fluff. But for the steam rising from the ironing boards, the air does not move. In the front hang row upon row of crisp white cotton miniskirts bearing the tag CREATED WITH PRIDE IN USA.

In city after city, town after town, children are slipping into the work force to make up for a growing labor shortage, while the laws designed to protect them are widely flouted. In New York, it is the garment industry; in California, the fast-food restaurants; in Iowa, the farms; in Maryland, the door-to-door candy sellers. Violations of child-labor laws shot up from 8,877 in 1984 to a record 22,508 last year, as ever younger children worked ever longer hours at jobs no one else would take for the pay. Though the majority of underage workers are middle-class teens supplementing their allowances, many are undocumented immigrants or impoverished members of the urban underclass.

Under fire from child-welfare groups, the Labor Department last week conducted Operation Child Watch, a nationwide three-day sweep of 3,400 garment shops, restaurants, supermarkets and other businesses suspected of abusing young workers. In all, the operation uncovered 7,000 minors who were illegally employed, which could result in more than $1.8 million in civil fines. "The cop is on the beat," declared Labor Secretary Elizabeth Dole. "Violations, whether motivated by greed or by ignorance, will not be tolerated."

In Congress, meanwhile, the House Employment and Housing Subcommittee, chaired by California Democrat Tom Lantos, heard testimony from victims critical of the Labor Department's enforcement record. Suzanne Boutros of Plainfield, Ind., described how her 17-year-old son was killed while driving a pizza truck. Matthew Garvey told about losing his leg in a drying machine while working as a 13-year-old at a car wash. The fine: $400. "It is shocking to learn," said Lantos, "that thousands of youngsters are jeopardizing their education, health and safety by working too many hours, too late at night, and in dangerous, prohibited occupations."

Most abuses occur in service industries, such as pizza parlors, supermarkets, movie theaters and other businesses that have long relied on teenagers to do menial work. Federal law allows 14-year-olds to 16-year-olds to work no more than three hours on school days, not past 7 p.m., up to 18 hours a week. Investigators raided one restaurant that employed 156 workers under 16 in violation of the hour restrictions. They also found 900 cases of children operating dangerous machinery -- meat slicers and paper balers, trash compactors and corn pickers.

Though no one defends placing children in harm's way, many employers argue that there is another side to the story. Teenagers who work after school learn discipline and responsibility. Migrant farm families, in particular, often work together in order to earn a semblance of a living wage. Stanley Quanyoung runs a small garment factory in Brooklyn. When he was cited last year for illegally employing his 15-year-old nephew Kin Wai Ng, Quanyoung was outraged. If his nephew were not working, he would be "walking the streets doing nothing," says Quanyoung. "He would fall into a bad gang."

Child-welfare advocates reply that they are not against teenagers working: they are against teenagers being exploited. Teachers report that students who work late into the night often fall behind in their homework and doze off during class. "What that does," says New York Labor Commissioner Thomas Hartnett, "is rob these young people of their future." Many states are instituting tougher restrictions: legislation is pending in New York that would increase fines and reduce hours worked during the school term, even for 17-year-olds. New Hampshire requires satisfactory academic performance in order to obtain a work certificate; Missouri and Washington restrict the use of children for door-to-door sales to protect them from exploitation and violent attacks.

Secretary Dole has set up a task force to review and update the list of potentially dangerous jobs. She has also stiffened penalties for violators, who until now might have found it more profitable to pay the fines than lose their cheap workers. "The bottom line is that penalties should not, must not be an acceptable cost of doing business," says William Brooks, Assistant Labor Secretary for Employment Standards. That is a welcome change -- and badly overdue.

With reporting by Gisela Bolte/Washington and Naushad S. Mehta/New York