by Pete Beatty
Oze Basket were uncommonly tidy for a man of his trade, put that same maniac tidiness on his mules. So it were not unusual that Big found the proprietor brushing the teeth of the mule Absalom – all the mules had respectable Bible names painted in white on their stall, although they was largely heathens.
Hidy Mr Oze Big went after his invisible hat again.
Hidy Big Oze had a voice like rust.
A long moment passed with Mr Ozias holding the brush to Absalom’s denture.
What luck of mine brings you here?
A hesitation. Oze I am consideringmystationinlife and I havedecideditistime that I come honest done regular work for regular profit
Oze let another moment limp past. Glad to know it Big
The conversation perished entirely – even the mules quieted. Eventually Big scratched thoughtfully behind an ear and took his leave.
* * *
Mean Mr Ozias could not discourage Big. Besides, Oze were well-known for stinting with money. Mr Ozias were only neighbors to Mr Philo and Big had only stopped for practicality. That were all.
Next door to the Basket barn was the offices of Dr Strickland, the cherrycheeked dentist – from mule’s teeth to folks’. Big found Dr S in the midst of fitting YL Honey with a new and incorruptible denture. Big sheeped some on account of he had been the one who wrecked YL’s previous denture in a rastle. But he managed a respectful hidy and YL hidyed back the best he could with Dr S’s hand in his trap. No resentments was noted. The rastle had been a fair fight and not the first set of teeth YL had busted besides. YL were the unluckiest man in Ohio, suffering past his portion from misadventure, and learned to meet poor fortune with grace.
Big were improving at asking after work. Dr S, I am here to—
Beg patience, Big Mr Honey and I have reached the decisive moment The kreosote will sanitize the necrosis and provide purchase for the apparatus The dentist pulled a brush from his smock and dipped it in a pot of stinking liquid.
This will bite some, friend
He daubed at YL’s gums and stood back. The kreosote went to work and YL kicked his legs madly. Big and the dentist watched burly YL writhe in agony for a minute or more, before Dr S passed him a jug to rinse.
Now Mr Honey it is imperative that you do not smoke any cigars or pipes the rest of the morning The treatment is liable to ignite
* * *
As Dr S scrubbed up he listened to Big’s proposition with a kindness. Big if I had a spare dollar I would surely cut you a bite from it but—
Big opened up his mouth some like he were expecting that bite of dollar. Dog’s shoes hung around his neck like he had grown donkey’s ears.
—I haven’t got any spare dollar Big You are better suited to busting teeth than carpentering them I do appreciate how you bring me custom You have a higher purpose besides Take heart at that!
YL gave a hrrmmh of agreement without parting his new teeth, and slapped Big on the back.
* * *
Big left Dr S and swore he would not lose heart.
He called at Mr Dennes’s.
He called at Handerson and Panderson.
He called at folks with no prospects at all.
The chair factory. The docks. The rope walk. The pottery. The ash pits. He even asked preachers if they needed deputies.
You can imagine how every such interview gone.
I haven’t got enough dollars lying around for my own self
Gold is powerful scarce this season Rascal Vanburen
If anything shakes out you are the first I will think of
You ought to take to farming
You might speculate in land
I would help you but I am awful skinned
You are meant for spirit’s work
* * *
With every turning away Big’s pride shrunk some like old garments. By the end of the morning his self-regard were pinching some at his underarms and betweenlegs.
He had not wanted to
He did not want to
He preferred not to
He would call on rich Mr Clark at the site of his great bridge-to-be.
PROCEEDINGS CONCERNING THE CONSTRUCTION OF A BRIDGE OVER THE CUYAHOGA RIVER JANUARY 1837
ASKED what a bridge would cost.
COMMITTEE thinks not more than twenty thousand dollars.
ASKED who could pay so much.
GENERAL SILENCE.
MR CLARK: Out of an abiding interest in the future of our two cities I will build the bridge and keep it in perpetuity free without toll.
CONSIDERABLE APPLAUSE.
ASKED where the bridge ought to go.
MR CLARK: At the Columbus road in the river flats.
CONSIDERABLE CUSSING from Ohio city deputation.
OBSERVED that there is no good road up the hill there.
MR CLARK: I will cut a road at my expense for the public good.
CUSSING continued.
COMMENTED that Cleveland will hog up all the wagons from the farm roads.
COMMENTED that Ohio city will have no cash or commerce.
COMMENTED that this bridge is wicked.
MR CLARK ACCUSED of having interest in lots at the river bottom across from cussed bridge.
MR CLARK ACCUSED of vilest speculation.
MR CLARK will not listen to such rubbish talk.
SUGGESTED by Cleveland factions that Ohio city can build a second bridge if they spit on the first one.
SUGGESTED that second bridge be built at the site of the old floating bridge near Division- and Centre-streets.
SOME APPLAUSE.
ASSERTED by property owners from near Division- and Centre-streets that they will not have a bridge there on account of it being a nuisance to river traffic and the greater good.
RENEWED CUSSING.
MOVED TO ADJOURN if folks do not have more questions.
ASKED what else would you hog after the farm wagons.
ASKED why do you wish to sin against us.
ASKED why ought we tolerate such abuse.
ASKED how would it be if we tore up your bridge.
ASKED may we borrow a bucket of your blood.
OHIO CITY DEPUTATION HEARD TO CHANT Two bridges or none for a time.
COMMITTEE thinks this conduct is not respectable.
COMMITTEE asks that we have order.
CHANTING OF Two bridges or none continued.
* * *
You have marked these bridge questions and are curious—
This bridge of Mr Clark’s – is it a special bridge?
No, a regular bridge, wood and stone, with two covered stretches and a draw in between.
So how did there come to be so many questions about a simple bridge?
Even after forty years of settlement at Cleveland and ten years at Ohio city, there were no bridge across the river. Because there were no obvious place for a crossing, and no wish to stand the cost. I consider the questions was less about the bridge than the river itself.
What is the nature of the river?
The river is mostly water with some dirt and fishes mixed in. The questions is more about its restless shape. Let me show you a picture-drawing.
The head of the river is to our east, and the water runs south, but somehow ends up northwest. At the last bit the river goes rambunctious, and staggers all over the bottom land between the bluffs of Cleveland and Ohio city. As a consequence the two places are not neatly parted. There are places in the river flats where you would go west from Ohio city to reach Cleveland in the east – or nearly any other direction.
At the Ohio city iron foundry at Centre-street, east were straight south.
At Scranton’s peninsula, east were north-northwest.
At the Columbus road, east were north.
The Columbus road is where rich Mr Clark put his bridge.
The where brung considerable heartache.
* * *
; The river flats was the shared boiling heart of the two cities. Where road river canal and lake met and mixed all their blood. I read in the news paper that just one month brought 108 059 bushels wheat 988 555 pounds bacon 317 081 pounds lard through the warehouses along the last mile of the Cuyahoga.
From boats come iron tools, oils and medicines, gunmeal, kegs of nails, linens and calicoes, lyes, salt, pots of grease, crockery, brandied fruits, news papers and notions. From wagons come goose feathers, oats, peas, beans, barley, pigs, beeswax and corn. From everywhere come people – emigrants, farmers and merchants. Full of doubt and debt and expectations. And purses for us to feed from.
The Columbus road came out of the fat farm country and ran along the western bluff into Ohio city, looking down over the flats. Mr Clark had not waited for any vote of approval or assent after making his pledge, but had set workmen to rip open the bluff right at the Columbus road. Through the first months of 1837, Clark’s gangs cut a wide and easy road down the hill, and then set to work on a bridge. When it were done, all the plump wagons from the farm country would roll down the hill straight into Cleveland, and never into Ohio city at all – starving the little sister of commerce and custom.
* * *
As Big rode down to see Mr Clark, he chewed over what he would say. He were so lost in thinking that Agnes had to steer herself around the mudholes. At the crook of the hill, Mr Clark’s bridge come into view below. Even half built you could not call it ugly. Two hundred feet long and wide enough for three wagons abreast. Two covered stretches and in between a draw for letting through masted boats. From afar it resembled two houses, end to end, set atop the water. The bald wood of the bridge had the look of cake, dotted with raisins, or flies – workmen crawling the top and sides, swinging hammers and saws.
Big swung off Agnes and gone to the closest of the workmen.
Now, you have not met any citizens of Cleveland yet. Here is your first. It is a trick to tell apart a Cleveland man from an Ohio city man. They look the same and generally act the same. The only difference is that Clevelanders are wrong all over. Too much Connecticut in them. Big were more genial toward Clevelanders than most Ohioans. But the workers he approached did not return the curtsy.
Hulloa there
A grunt.
Do you know where I could find Mr Clark to speak with him?
No
Thank you kindly
* * *
Hidy
A narrowing of eyes.
Where might I find Mr Clark?
A cautious consideration of this visitor with shoes hung around his neck. Ask the foreman
Mister yes hidy
The smallest hitch in the swing of a hammer.
Are you the foreman? I wish to see the foreman
What do you want?
I want a position
Haven’t got any of those
Is Mr Clark about?
A hammer pointed to the Cleveland side of the river.
* * *
Under the noon-fat sun, Big led Agnes across the half-made bridge, their six feet and eight shoes mindful of the unfinished bits where the river showed through. The bridge had a gentle slope down from west to east, and the flats spread out like a table before my brother. A short ways off from the bridge were a pompous elm and underneath were Mr Clark, clad in a suit of barking white linen. His considerable self rested on a folding stool, with one hand on a knee and the other holding a long fork. Attending him were Miss Sarahjoseph, back from Handerson and Panderson with her basket full of brandied fruits.
Big! Mr Clark bellowed. Big Son! A welcome surprise Most welcome
Hidy Mr Clark Miss Sarahjoe
A sharp, short curtsy.
Come in comeincomein, Mr Clark said in a food-clotted voice.
Big were not sure how to come in considering they were out of doors.
Sit sit sitsitsit said Mr Clark as he went into a fresh jar of peaches with his fork.
Mr Clark had the way of some rich folks of acting as if they are the same as you. He seemed tickled to audience with Big. He wiped up his chops with a kerchief even whiter than his suit, and pushed the jar of peaches at his caller. Big fished a slice out with his fingers, to be courteous.
Their interview commenced.
Mr Clark I want to make a honest life for myself—
Commendable most commendable Another stab at the jar.
—but I want for means—
Gustation.
—and I wonder if you would take me on a worker at your bridge It is mostly done but you know my appetite I could build a dozen bridges for you do anything for you rastle alligators for you if you have any alligators
Big I am proud to hear of your turning honest I am boiled pink—
Big were unsure how it signified to be boiled pink.
—but I cannot give you work
My brother’s face fell off.
—on account of Progress We are Progressing as a People and a Place With each “P,” Mr Clark sent molecules of fruit flying. Your feats brung us a long ways toward Progress You have already done so much for us We cannot have you do more We must stand on our own
Big worked to pull his face back on, but it did not fit right.
Mr Clark paused with a gob of peach on the end of his fork. He considered some. There was a genuine boiled-pinkness to him. You could not say if it were from the liquor in the fruit or from tenderness at the hero’s predicament.
Big my word to you once the bridge is done once my money is unhitched from it I will fix you in paying work I will see it done
* * *
On Pearl-street, Asa snorted to a stop in front of DOGSTADTER GROCER. Folks mostly just called this place Dog’s. The oldest and most ragged public place on the west side of the Cuyahoga, run by an old and ragged person. The sign promised a grocery but the only good for sale was whiskey. Dog did not come out to greet us, but several of the cats what roosted in his establishment stepped outside to hulloa Asa. As the cats rubbed their brains on his ankles, Asa shook flies out of his ears. Mr Job and I went to unloading the last of the day’s load.
COFFINS I hollered.
Bring the f_____s in Dog hollered back.
* * *
The inside of the grocery was always dusk, no matter the hour. A long slender room with little pig-eye windows at the entrance. The air sogged with smoke and drink-breath and cat-fur and the heat of a half dozen stoves. Along the walls between stoves were a chaos – whiskey makings – busted pieces of barrel – animal hides and broken coffin-bits and news papers and soiled books.
Long galley tables filled the room, dotted with idlers and loafers – some asleep – some at checkers – some simply talking without any listener. They all sat on good Stiles coffin-benches. Between the seething stoves and mumbling drunks and mayowing cats there were a wormy music to the place.
The decorations helped along the wormy feeling. Above the heaps of junk, the walls bristled with violence. Hoes, plows, rakes, scythes. Mattocks and sledges. Pokers and tongs. Mammoth laundry spoons and rusted cleavers. Implements for encouraging people. Pikes, clubs, a spear, war hatchets, aged muskets. At the center of the back wall were the prize, a rheumy sword. Its liverspotted blade would not pierce boiled beef, but it did cut a style.
Under the sword were ancient August Dogstadter, barely two feet from the largest of the stoves, perched on a stick stool. His bare feet kicked before him – Dog often kicked in the middle of talking, like it helped along his point.
—and he busted the gallows They had fed him so much whiskey before hanging at his request that no one known if he were dead or only pissbrained They did not wish to bury him living so they only left him tucked under the broken gallows for a few hours to see
Dog were a considerable success as a whiskey grocer, but his true gift lie in spinning wild stories from
between his frightful teeth – jagged and green.
—and then that night, the sheriff said to the doctors Do to his carcass as you like only do not make much noise—
Some was lies on history.
—and John Omic were awfully fat too fat for one man to carry but a drunk Dr Allen took it as a challenge and hoisted him on his back And made way only to trip over a stump—
Some was lies on his own prowess.
—In my summer I were strong enough to hoist fat old Omic and dance a jig under him—
Some was lies for amusement.
—but down gone burly Dr Allen with the fat f_____g dead man on top of him like blankets and the other doctors could not laugh aloud on account of being graverobbers—
Some was lies so strange and dark I could not say what they were for.
—but it turned out Omic weren’t at all dead he coughed and puked and pleaded Dr Allen pissed himself in fright—
I had heard the story of John Omic, the first man hung in Cleveland, many times before.
—and then the doctors had to stab Omic in the heart to keep their graverobbing a secret even if their carcass weren’t even a carcass and Dr Allen stood up covered in piss and puke and Indian blood
Dog’s stories never ended but with him laughing – a sound like beating dust from a rug.
* * *
Job Stiles do you mark how they are f_____g us?
There were no confusing who they was and how they effed Dog. The question of the bridge had termited Dog’s brains since January, when rich Mr Clark had declared his plan to build a crossing at the Columbus road.
I do not consider Clark’s bridge wrongs me any said Mr Job.
That is because you are a sow’s marital parts Job Stiles You was born that way
Dog did not say marital parts. He said a different word that I will not put down. From any but Dog, such talk would have chased Mr Job away. But Dog’s manners was like the smallpox – if you survived, you were cured for life.
