The Gang

This coming-of-age novel, published in 1921, describes the experience of boys on the streets of Harlem. The title suggests that Harold, the central character, is more interested in being old enough to be accepted in the local gang but there is also considerable focus on his school life and his reading.

The author, Joseph Anthony (born 9 April 1897), wrote prolifically in early adulthood and built on the success of his fiction as a script writer in Hollywood in the mid-1930s. Whereas it is likely that he was conscripted (his registration for the draft was in New Jersey in June 1918), it is not clear whether he saw active service.

Set in New York’s immigrant communities of Jewish and Irish families, there are clearly autobiographical elements in the novel. Like the author, Harold's heritage is in Austria-Hungary. Harold drops his parents’ expectation that he would become a doctor or a lawyer and instead chooses to begin a career in journalism. This is exactly how the author began his career. His draft registration form shows the author to be employed on the Newark Evening News. Harold leaves school to take up the role of copy boy on the New York Banner.

There is a lively interest in socialism among the characters in Harold’s community. In Chapter IV, Harold discusses Karl Marx with Yonkel, one of his father’s employees:
“Didn't he want to start a lot of fighting, to take the rich men’s money away from them?" Harold asks.
“Fighting? Fighting, Harold? From who did you hear this? It's for dogs and cats to fight, Harold, not for intelligence men. If only we had socialism, Harold, there wouldn't be no fighting.”
Harold’s outlook was different he knew he wanted to be in the street’s gang and to take on the rival gang of the neighbourhood. His elder brother was in the gang and he aspired to be like him. He bartered for a dustbin lid to serve as a shield in a street battle and thus gained entry to the gang. The action was dramatic:
"Harold let his shield drop with a dull jangle on the flagstone, then poised it again, and was off at full gallop. A passing grown-up turned to watch and proudly he sensed at least the beginning of a glimmering appreciation of the splendour and terror of things happening and to happen. He crossed to the walk beside Mount Morris park and dashed on at break-neck speed, glory-bent, with the too-heavy shield tugging at his arm, straining his eyes for a sight of combat.”