The records of American industry are replete with names of
prominent leaders who began at the apprentice's bench.

The old class distinctions brought from the home country,
however, had survived for many years in the primeval forests of
Virginia and Maryland and even among the hills of New England.
Indeed, until the Revolution and for some time thereafter, a
man's clothes were the badge of his calling. The gentleman wore
powdered queue and ruffled shirt; the workman, coarse buckskin
breeches, ponderous shoes with brass buckles, and usually a
leather apron, well greased to keep it pliable. Just before the
Revolution the lot of the common laborer was not an enviable one.
His house was rude and barren of comforts; his fare was coarse
and without variety. His wage was two shillings a day, and prison
--usually an indescribably filthy hole awaited him the moment he
ran into debt. The artisan fared somewhat better. He had spent,
as a rule, seven years learning his trade, and his skill and
energy demanded and generally received a reasonable return. The
account books that have come down to us from colonial days show
that his handiwork earned him a fair living. This, however, was
before machinery had made inroads upon the product of
cabinetmaker, tailor, shoemaker, locksmith, and silversmith, and
when the main street of every village was picturesque with the
signs of the crafts that maintained the decent independence of
the community.

Such labor organizations as existed before the Revolution were
limited to the skilled trades. In 1648 the coopers and the
shoemakers of Boston were granted permission to organize guilds,
which embraced both master and journeyman, and there were a few