by Al Lacy
Dane wiped tears with the back of his hand. “Papa, where are you? You have always been here. You have always protected me and cared for me when I needed you. I need you now! What will I do without your strength and your guidance in my life?”
A shudder consumed his spent body. He turned away from the memories the room stirred within him and ran up the hall to the parlor. He set the lantern back on the table in the center of the room, and overwhelmed with grief, he dropped onto the worn-out sofa, gave in to the bereavement that was tearing at his heart, and sobbed uncontrollably for over an hour.
It was one o’clock in the morning when finally, from exhaustion, he fell into a fitful sleep.
When dawn’s light touched Dane’s eyes through the parlor window, he awakened and the grief hit him afresh. He wept for several minutes, calling to his parents and his siblings, telling them he missed them. When he gained control of his emotions, he sat up on the sofa and his eyes fell on the paper bag that lay on the small table with his parents’ wallet and purse.
Curious as to what kind of book his parents had bought, he arose from the sofa and took it out of the bag. When he saw the title, his features pinched. He held the book reverently in his hands and let his fingers run over the title. “This was for my birthday, wasn’t it? But how will I ever become a doctor now? I’ve dreamed of becoming a doctor almost as long as I remember. But now I’ll be forced to live on the streets. How will I ever have the money to pay for medical school?”
While he was fighting off another wave of despair, his mother’s soft voice came to him: “Anything worth having is worth working for, son. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”
His mother had proven the old adages to be true in her everyday life.
Dane held the big thick book against his chest.
“You’re right, Mama. I have absolutely no idea how, but someday I will realize my dream. It’s certainly worth having, and I’ll find a way to work for it and make it happen. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Dr. Dane Weston will make his mama and papa proud of him.”
A fresh wave of grief washed over him. Clutching the book to his chest, he fell on the sofa and wept again.
When he finally stopped weeping, he went to the wash room next to the kitchen, washed his face and hands, and went downstairs to the Bendrick apartment for breakfast.
That same morning, at 10:00 o’clock, Manhattan’s mayor, Raymond Fachinello, stood on the platform in the auditorium at city hall before some three hundred uniformed police officers, nearly two hundred of whom had just finished their training and were ready to go on duty.
Fachinello explained that after Manhattan’s chief of police, Rex Tilman, addressed them, many of the new recruits would be paired off with the experienced men who were present. The rest of the new men would be paired off with officers who were presently on duty at a meeting this evening when the shift changed. He spoke of how pleased he was that there were some two hundred more recruits in training at the moment.
The mayor went on to give statistics of Manhattan’s citizens who had been robbed, beaten, and killed on the streets by gangs and other criminals in the past six months. He also gave statistics on stores, banks, and street vendors that had been robbed. He then called for Chief Tilman to come and speak to the men.
When Chief Rex Tilman stepped to the platform, it was obvious to the crowd of officers that he was deeply concerned about the crime statistics that had just been given by the mayor. It showed on his face as he explained that many of the muggings, robberies, and killings in Manhattan had been in the middle class and well-to-do areas. It wasn’t just the ghettos and poorer sections of the city that were feeling the impact of the growing crime rate.
Tilman went on to say that all of New York City was bursting at the seams with people coming in from Europe, as well as from the Orient, Cuba, and the Caribbean Islands. Most of them thought they were coming to a promised land of milk and honey, and when it became obvious that they were misled, many of them turned to crime in rebellion, and now the entire population was suffering.
The uniformed men before him were nodding their agreement to what Tilman was saying.
He scrubbed a palm over his mouth and went on. “Men, I have been thinking of all the reasons people come to live in New York City, and I can’t even remember what my own reason was. A friend once said to me about this city, ‘People don’t pull up in covered wagons to the center of Longacre Square and say, “Here it is—a good land, a strong land, a decent land where our children can grow strong and free.” Yes, that happens out West in the wide open spaces, but not here. I hate to have to say it, but New York City is not a good land or a strong land. It certainly is not a place to bring children. Yet they have come here by the thousands, and a good many of the orphans that live in the streets and alleys were made orphans by the killers who have stalked the streets and murdered their parents.”
Tilman then challenged the new officers, as well as the experienced ones, to do everything they could to make the streets of Manhattan safe for its citizens, even as the officers—experienced and inexperienced—were seeking to do so in the other four boroughs.
He charged the men as they were assigned to their partners to guard each other’s lives as if they were brothers. He thanked them for being willing to pin on a badge and strap on a gun in the war against crime, then began reading off the names of the new men and assigning them to their partners.
That afternoon, when Dane Weston knew his friend Todd Baxter would be home from school, he went to the Baxter apartment. The girls were playing hopscotch on the sidewalk farther down the street. When he was invited in, tears streamed down his face as he told Todd and his parents about his family being killed by the gang.
Dane’s words shocked them totally. They were sitting around the kitchen table, and both Dolph and Mona wept as they showed their sympathy for Dane in his loss. Todd wrapped his arms around his best friend and wept, saying how sorry he was that Dane had to suffer like this.
Dolph set his gaze on Dane as Todd held him in his arms. “Dane, what are you going to do? Where will you live?”
Dane sniffed and wiped tears. “I will simply live on the streets as so many orphans do, Mr. Baxter. I’ll have to find a job of some kind to provide for my food and other needs. My plan is to get a night job so I can go to school in the daytime as usual.”
Dolph gave him a solemn look and shook his head. “No, Dane. You will not be allowed in school as a street waif. You can only go to public school if you have at least one parent or guardian, and you live in their home.”
Dane frowned. “Really?”
“Yes. I’m sorry, but that’s the law.”
A finger of disappointment stabbed Dane’s raw heart, but instantly his mother’s words came to mind: “Where there’s a will there’s a way.” A new resolve filled him. He would still one day become a doctor, no matter what he had to do to accomplish it.
Dolph and Mona exchanged glances, each knowing what the other was thinking, but both knew there was no way they could take Dane into their home. Dolph’s income as a janitor just wouldn’t cover the cost of another mouth to feed, let alone clothes and shoes and other expenses that come with raising a child. It was all they could do to care for Todd, Letha, Angie, and Tippy.
Dolph set soft eyes on the boy. “Dane, Mona and I wish we could take you into our home, but this apartment is already too small for the family we have.”
Dane smiled thinly. “I understand, Mr. Baxter. Thank both of you for wanting to do that, but I don’t expect you to provide a home for me. I’ll be okay. Other orphans make it, living on the streets. I will, too.” He paused, then said, “Since Todd is my best friend, I’d still like to come and visit now and then, if that would be all right.”
Relieved that Dane understood, Mona said quickly, “Of course. You are welcome here anytime.”
Todd had released Dane from his arms, but patted his shoulder and said with a smile, “You sure are!”
Dane’s smile spread wide this time. “Thank you, Mrs. Baxter. You are very kind. I promise I won’t make a pest of myself, but I want to keep my close friendship with Todd and everyone else in this family, too. You’re all I have left of what was once a happy life.”
Mona gave Dane a hug. At the same time, Dolph patted him on the back. “Don’t be a stranger, son. We want you to come by often.”
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate it more than I could ever tell you.” Dane felt as though a small part of his crushing burden had been lifted.
Todd said, “Dane, I’ll tell our friends at school about what happened to your family, and that you won’t be back to school, at least until you find someone in this school district to adopt you and give you a home.”
Dane smiled again. “That would be something, wouldn’t it? Well, I guess I’d better head for the apartment. I want to thank all of you for being my friends.”
As Dane pushed his chair back and rose to his feet, Mona asked, “Can you stay for supper?”
A low grumble in his stomach reminded Dane that he hadn’t eaten anything since that morning. “I sure can!”
That evening when Dane arrived at 218 Thirty-third Street and turned off the sidewalk to enter the building, he saw Mitchell Bendrick looking at him from his office window. The landlord motioned that he would meet him in the vestibule, and before Dane could put his key in the door, Bendrick swung it open. “Have you had anything to eat, son?”
As he moved inside, Dane said, “Yes, sir. I had supper with my friend Todd Baxter and his family.”
“Good. I have a message for you from the coroner.”
“Oh?”
“Mm-hmm. He came by to see you late this afternoon. He said Captain J. D. Slater had come to him about the funeral for your family, and wanted to let you know that your parents and Diane and Ronnie will be buried at eleven o’clock Friday morning at the 116th Street Cemetery. A minister has been engaged by the coroner to preside over the burial. I told the coroner I would pass the message on to you when you came home.”
Dane’s features went grim. He sucked in his breath so hard it hollowed his cheeks. “All right, sir. Thank you.”
Bendrick took hold of the boy’s upper arm. “Dane, Sylvia and I are going to take you to the graveside service.”
Dane’s eyes brightened a bit. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Bendrick. You and Mrs. Bendrick have been so kind to me.”
“We couldn’t let you face it alone. And I want to tell you something else: you can stay in the apartment another week at no charge.”
“Really?”
“Really. I wish we could afford to let you stay in the apartment indefinitely, but we’ll have to rent it out after next week.”
“I understand, Mr. Bendrick. Thank you for the extra week.”
When Dane entered the apartment, its utter silence overpowered him. The place had always been filled with sound. Mama would hum happily as she did her household chores. Dane, Diane, and Ronnie were usually involved in some activity or game that kept the apartment filled with chatter and laughter, and Papa’s voice would boom joyfully over all the rest when he returned home at the end of the day from work.
In the evenings, Mama often read aloud to the family from one of the few books they possessed, and often Ronnie would fall asleep on the couch while listening to the soft sound of her voice.
Now as Dane stood just inside the door, the only sound was his labored breathing. He took a deep breath and said aloud, “Someday I’ll have my own family, and I’ll make sure that our house is filled with laughter and music and other sounds that make a house a home.”
These thoughts gave him a measure of comfort and hope. His mother would sometimes say, “Without hope, there is nothing to live for.” The thoughts of his mother brought another rush of tears.
The next day, Dane went back to the Baxter apartment to let them know that his family was being buried on Friday morning.
When Friday came, dark rain clouds hung low, making the day even more somber. Dane was pleased to find the entire Baxter family at the cemetery when he and the Bendricks arrived. Having the Baxters there meant a lot to him. It was especially comforting to have Todd standing beside him during the service.
The rain slanted down on the little group as they huddled beneath their umbrellas.
When it came time for the four coffins to be lowered into the cold, unfeeling earth, Dane broke down and sobbed. The Bendricks and the Baxters encircled him, giving all the comfort they could.
That evening, after eating supper with Mitchell and Sylvia, a weary Dane Weston climbed the stairs and entered the apartment. It was still raining outside. He was glad he had left a lantern burning low when he went down to supper. A shiver washed over him, and he decided to build a fire in the stove.
The little stove looked cold and forlorn, too, he thought as he wadded up a portion of the New York Times and stuffed it with the paper. He placed several pieces of kindling on top of the paper, then struck a match and lit the paper. He closed the heavy door, and the flames flickered brightly through the small window, sending out its warm glow and dispelling some of the gloom in the parlor.
Dane went to the shabby sofa, sat down, and let his mind run back over the sad day. Soon his thoughts settled on the scene at the grave site when the grave diggers lowered the four plain pine coffins in the ground while the rain continued to fall. It had been the worst moment of all in the devastating loss of his family.
The thoughts that had filtered through his mind while the coffins were being lowered into the ground came to him anew. He recalled how the only thing that kept him from totally giving in to the despair that was trying to claim him was his dream of becoming a doctor and helping the sick, injured, and wounded of this world. Holding tight to this determination had enabled him to survive the horrific day.
He adjusted his position on the sofa, sighed, and whispered, “Mama, Papa, someday I’ll make you proud of me. I’ll find a way to get my education and be the doctor that you always wanted me to be.”
On the following Tuesday, the Bendricks had a little birthday party for Dane at suppertime. Later that evening in the apartment, he picked up The History of Medicine that his parents had bought for his birthday and wept as he thumbed through its pages.
Once again he vowed that somehow, some way, he would one day become a medical doctor and surgeon.
Chapter Four
On the following Saturday morning—April 29—the New York sun beamed down from a clear sky and the children who lived in the apartments in the 200 block on Thirty-third Street were playing games on the sidewalks. Happy chatter and joyful laughter were heard on both sides of the street.
At 218 Thirty-third Street, Sylvia Bendrick held the door of the office-apartment open while her husband and Dane Weston reached the bottom of the stairs and carried in Dane’s belongings. Dane was carrying his several medical books, and Mitchell bore the boy’s winter clothing. Strapped on Dane’s back was a knapsack that held his summer clothing.
When they stepped into the parlor, Mitchell laid the clothing on the couch. “Just put the books here on this end table, Dane. I’ll put them all away in a little while.”
The boy placed the books on the table with The History of Medicine on top and patted it. “I’ll come for these books someday when I can concentrate on becoming a doctor.”
Sylvia smiled. “We’ll take care of them for you, dear. And your winter clothes, too.”
“I appreciate this,” said Dane, running his gaze to the faces of both people. “I’ll come for my winter clothes when cold weather is on its way.”
Mitchell smiled and clipped his chin playfully. “You come and see us before fall, Dane. We want to know how you’re doing.”
“I will, sir. And thank y
ou both for being so kind to me.”
The fifteen-year-old hugged both people and headed for the door. They followed, and when he reached it, he turned and said, “You wouldn’t mind, would you, if I went up and just spent a few minutes in the apartment? I … I mean, since it will be the last time I can ever go inside.”
Mitchell smiled down at him. “Take your time. I’ll be going up tomorrow morning to make it ready to show to prospective renters. I’ll lock the door later.”
Dane thanked them again and hurried up the stairs.
His heart felt like it was made out of lead as he opened the door and stepped into the apartment. This was the only home he had ever known. And now he must leave it. Knowing he was taking his last look at the apartment, he moved slowly from room to room, mentally picturing each member of his family in happy times.
When Dane had gone into each room, his parents’ bedroom being the last, he made his way back to the parlor, carrying so many memories deep in his heart. He opened the door, turned around for one last look, swallowed hard, and stepped into the hall, closing the door behind him. He thumbed tears from his eyes, but with determination to realize his goal in life spurring him on, he hurried down the stairs and stepped out into the beauty of the bright spring day.
Adjusting the knapsack on his back, he headed for downtown with the laughter of the children at play in his ears.
When Dane reached Manhattan’s gigantic business district, he entered the first store he came to, which was Milford’s Clothiers. The man behind the counter was waiting on a female customer, but smiled at him. “I’ll be with you in a moment, young man.”
Dane smiled and nodded, then stood where he was and ran his gaze around the store. There were racks of clothing along the walls and down the center of the store. Men’s clothing was in the section along the wall to his left, and women’s clothing was in the section along the other wall. Children’s clothing, from infants to teenagers, was on the rack down the center, as well as the long, narrow tables in between.
