All My Love, Detrick

by Kagan, Roberta

  Instinct brought a cold chill of fear when she considered the possibility, and until now, she had refused him. But he paid more than any of her other clients and she wanted to keep him.

  Chapter 44

  Poland proved no match for Hitler. Germany attacked on the northern, southern and western fronts. Within a few weeks, on October 6, 1939, Poland surrendered and the German occupation began.

  Chapter 45

  The United States of America - the land of opportunity

  When the boat pulled into Ellis Island, Dorothy Silver thought her heart would burst with anticipation. Many of the immigrants waved homemade American flags, whooping and hollering. The new world lay just steps away. Soon, she and her family would disembark from the ship and her life in America would begin. In many ways, she longed for the old familiar days she’d shared with Leah in Germany, but her youthful soul could not help but embrace the adventure. The sun cast a blinding reflection on the shining copper Statue of Liberty, which had oxidized to green in patches. For a moment, the noise ceased, and silence fell upon the group as the immigrants realized that they had arrived. The American dream had gleamed like a diamond in their minds; now it was a reality before them. If one listened closely, the thunder of anxious heartbeats would be heard above the rush of the roaring waves.

  Dorothy lost track of the days before the release of the family from quarantine. The halls smelled of sweat, salami, garlic and sausages. But, finally, the Silvers took the ferry off the island and into New York City. She had never seen so many people of so diverse ethnicities. She wished they could linger and observe all of the strange goings-on, but her father insisted that they hurry to the train station, board, and speed off to Chicago, where they would meet Dorothy’s uncle and his family.

  Oscar Silver longed to see his brother again, but also felt embarrassment at imposing upon his family. In Germany, he’d earned a nice living, not to mention the respect of the town, when he volunteered as the cantor at the synagogue. Now he depended upon his brother to help him to find work to support his family and begin his life again.

  The Silver family sat quietly, looking out the window as the train jutted along from New York to Chicago, each lost in his own thoughts.

  Dorothy slept and awaked several times before they entered the station. As soon as they disembarked, she smelled the horrible odor she would later learn came from the stock yards. It would take time for the family to grow accustomed to the nauseating stench of blood and death.

  From the train station, they took the elevated train along the rooftops of the city to her uncle’s house. She sped past clotheslines filled with garments blowing in the breeze, men working on construction sites, wearing dirty, white, cotton tee shirts, and tramps sitting on the pavement outside of liquor stores with bottles concealed in brown paper bags.

  Dorothy’s mother looked gray with nausea as the train bumped and jarred. Her father continually reassured them both that they were all safe, although he did not seem entirely convinced.

  Finally they arrived at their stop, where they were instructed to take a street car to the west side. When they boarded the car, they found it crowded and had to stand with their luggage for the entire ride. Passengers shot looks of disdain at the foreigners. And Dorothy took notice of how differently they dressed from the people of her homeland. She admired the women, with their tight skirts and brazen made-up faces. The open trolley moved through the streets. They passed restaurants and dance clubs, where she heard bands playing swing music. These rhythmic sounds fell upon her ears, bringing a smile to her face. She had heard of swing, but Hitler forbade it in Germany.

  When they arrived at Uncle Benjamin’s apartment, she met her cousin, Hette, and her Aunt Essie. They lived in a large brick building on the third floor. Dorothy shared a small bedroom with Hette, while her parents slept on a hide-a-bed in the living room. The flat was small and cramped before. Now, with an additional family, it was even more so. The luxury of hot water was unaffordable, and that meant meant cold baths. This would be all right in the summer, but Uncle Benjie explained that, when winter came, they would boil the water before bathing.

  Since Uncle Benjie worked at the fruit and vegetable market, the family had access to all of the spoiling food, which Aunt Essie used to make soups. Although he tried, Uncle Benjie found no success in securing a job for his brother.

  “The economy is bad,” they told him. “We have no room for another worker.” And so, for a while, Dorothy and her family felt like dead weight in the home of their relatives. No one ever said a word, but the air grew thick with their annoyance, as the newness of the visitors wore off and the lack of space and rations became more apparent.

  Every morning, Dorothy’s father set out to comb the neighborhood in search of work, and each evening he returned covered in grime, sweat and disappointment. She watched at the evening meal as he ate less and less, growing thinner with each passing day.

  Finally, in the fall, just before Dorothy started her senior year at Marshall High School, her father arrived home with good news. For a moment, he appeared to be the man of so long ago, the one of whom neighbors in Germany had spoken so highly. He walked in the back door through the kitchen, grinning ear-to-ear, and with the loud and booming voice that had made him the most popular cantor at the Shul, he called out, “Mama, Dorothy, come, quickly!”

  They both raced into the kitchen just in time to see him remove his hat and toss it upon the table.

  “I have a job! I am working selling men’s and women’s coats on Maxwell Street! I will do the books for the store too. It is not as much money as I earned in the old days…but, for the love of God, it is a start! We are going to be all right.” He stretched his strong arms out, embracing them like a giant black bear.

  Chapter 46

  Dorothy admired her cousin Hette, who worked downtown at Marshall Fields and wore a hint of lipstick. Dorothy knew her father wanted her to finish high school, but she felt out of place. The other students dressed and acted differently than her friends in Germany. The girls shunned her. When the teacher called upon her in class and she tried to answer, the other students giggled at the sound of her accent. She learned enough of the language to converse, but could not grasp reading in English. This made her school work twice as difficult, and most days she walked home alone and depressed. And even though she was Jewish, she was subjected to the national hatred and distrust that Americans had developed for Germans.

  The only pleasure she found in this new country came from the wild and exciting rhythm of swing music. When her cousin played it on her phonograph, Dorothy loved to sing along. Her voice could tap with the beat or croon with the blues. Often she begged Hette to take her to a swing club where she could watch the dancers, but Hette just smiled and said, “When you get a little older.”

  One afternoon in early November, Dorothy’s American history teacher asked her to stand and read from the United States Constitution. She stood and stammered over the words, her accent making much of what she said undecipherable. The anti-German sentiment was exacerbated by her accent. Few of the students realized that Dorothy, being Jewish, was just as much an enemy of the Third Reich as they were. Instead they called her a kraut and focused their hatred of Hitler on her, the girl with the German accent.

  As she read aloud, one of the boys in the back of the room hit her with a rubber band . It stung where it made contact with her shoulder, but the pain it brought to her emotionally devastated her. Since she'd come to America, she’d felt out of place, alone and friendless. Tears came to her eyes. She looked around the room. At that moment she made a decision. With trembling hands, she gathered her books and walked out of the room. Behind her she heard the teacher. “Dorothy Silver, where are you going? I have not dismissed this class. Do you hear me?”

  Dorothy heaved the heavy wooden door open and left the school. Outside she saw a large trash can, where she dumped her books. Then, wiping her hands on her wool skirt, she put her handbag under her
arm and headed for the elevated subway station.

  Dorothy’s heart raced with trepidation and excitement as she took her handkerchief out of her purse and wiped her face. Then she counted her money. Almost a whole dollar.

  She paid her fare and boarded the train downtown to Marshall Fields. Dorothy knew that Hette got off the train at State and Washington. So Dorothy carefully watched the stops and listened to the conductor. When she heard the announcement for State and Washington, she stood ready at the automatic doors. After she disembarked, she walked up the stairs to the street where saw the tall building with the green lettering. It looked just the way Hette had described it. She turned to an old woman who sat on a bench at a bus stop.

  “Excuse me please.” Dorothy pointed to the building she suspected might be her destination. “Is that Marshall Fields?”

  The old woman nodded. “That’s it right there.”

  “Thank you.” Dorothy walked quickly to her destination.

  On the first floor, to the left of hosiery, Marshall Fields' hat department boasted some of the loveliest head pieces in Chicago. Hette stood behind a glass counter helping a woman to secure a fedora with a hat pin. When she saw Dorothy, she smiled and walked over.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?” Hette asked her cousin.

  “I need a job.”

  “What happened?”

  “I walked out. Besides, we can use the money.”

  “Yes, I suppose that is the truth. Your father will kill me, but let me see what I can do. When I go on my break I’ll go down to personnel and see what’s available. Come back at two-thirty?”

  “Alright, I will. Thank you so much, Hette.”

  Dorothy wandered up and down State Street for several hours. The shop windows were decorated like works of art; Dorothy had never seen so many beautiful things. When she saw Grant Park she bought a hot dog, then crossed a busy intersection to sit on a bench next to the art museum, where she ate her lunch. At two-thirty, she returned to the store.

  “I have good news. They want to see you.” Hette gave her an orange-red lipstick smile.

  “Where do I go?”

  “Second floor. Take the elevator over there. Let me know what happens.”

  “I will.”

  Chapter 47

  “Good afternoon, may I help you?” The girl at the desk wore a white cashmere sweater and gray wool skirt. Dorothy loved the way the sweater fell loosely, just showing a hint of the receptionist's figure.

  “Yes, thank you. My name is Dorothy Silver. My cousin Hette Silver said that I should come here and talk to someone about a job.”

  The girl nodded and handed Dorothy a group of papers and a pencil. “Fill these out. When you’re through, bring them back to me.”

  Dorothy sat down in the waiting room and tried to read the application. Her writing and grammar left much to be desired. The tiny print was impossible for her to grasp. It seemed as if there was so much to read, but she hoped her enthusiasm would make up for her lack of competence in the English language. She reread her application twice, sounding out the words, trying to comprehend the meaning at the same time. Over and over, she erased and corrected until the paper tore. Then she finally got up and handed the document to the receptionist.

  After Dorothy waited twenty minutes, a well dressed woman with bottle-red hair in perfect finger waves appeared. The receptionist handed her Dorothy’s papers, which she glanced over quickly.

  “This way, my dear.”

  They walked down a long corridor surrounded by desks on either side. The clicking of typewriters filled the halls. Finally at the end they entered an office. The fire-haired lady closed the door and motioned for Dorothy to sit.

  “Hello, my name is Gloria McMillian. I am the head of personnel here at Marshall Field and Co. Your cousin speaks highly of you.”

  Dorothy smiled.

  “Cat got your tongue?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  Dorothy wasn’t sure what that statement meant; she looked at Gloria McMillian blankly.

  “It’s just an expression.” Mrs. McMillian smiled. Once she’d heard Dorothy’s accent, she realized the girl had no idea what she’d said.

  “So, your name is Dorothy Silver.” She studied the application. “It seems to me that you have difficulty reading and writing English. I am afraid this is a very necessary part of the job you are applying for.”

  “I can learn…I will work very hard.”

  For a moment, Dorothy thought she detected a hint of sympathy race across Gloria McMillian’s face. Then, rising from her chair, Mrs. McMillian walked to the window facing away from Dorothy.

  “I am sorry, dear. I really am. But I don’t think that this is a good idea for either of us. I am sure you understand.”

  Tears stung Dorothy’s eyes. She rose from the chair.

  “Thank you.” Before the interviewer could see that Dorothy was crying, she left the room and walked as quickly out of the building as she could, not meeting anyone’s eyes on the way.

  The fresh air stung Dorothy’s face as she raced away from the department store.

  Her heart ached with rejection. She could not return to school after disposing of all of her books, so where was she to go? If her father learned that she left her education behind, without any prospect of employment, he would be furious. Frustrated, she paced the sidewalks, not realizing how far she had traveled from her original downtown location. When she finally looked around, she realized that the neighborhood had changed. Some of the windows bore cracks where they had been broken, others stood covered by protective metal bars. A large pawnshop occupied the corner of a busy intersection, beckoning the down and out to bring their possessions for a quick sale. Dorothy hurried along, her eyes scanning the streets nervously in search of a bus stop, although she could not be sure which bus would deliver her back to her uncle’s home. A man appeared from the dark recesses of an alleyway.

  “Hello, little lady. Where you going?”

  She turned away from the stench of alcohol on his breath and ran, with the vile echo of his laughter ringing in her ears. Lost. The reality hit her like a boulder tumbling upon her head. How would she ever find her way? A wave of panic clutched at her. Her accent and her inability to read English made her situation even more perilous. Who could she trust to ask directions? She scanned the street for a woman, deciding it would be safer to talk to a female than a male. But dusk had begun to settle and she found the street empty.

  In the window of a tall building, she saw a sign. In an attempt to read it, she sounded the words out as she spoke them aloud.

  “Singer wanted -one flight up.” For a moment she forgot her distress. Dorothy knew herself to be limited in her employable skills, but she also realized that if she had any talents at all, the one she could most assuredly count on was her voice. After taking a deep breath and crossing her fingers, Dorothy opened the door and began to climb the stairs.

  When she reached the second floor, she saw at least ten women in worn evening gowns dancing, with their bodies pressed closely to men who slithered close beside them. Some of the fellows hung on the girls, groping at the dancers' buttocks and barely moving to the music.

  Dorothy found herself unable to take her eyes from the spectacle as she walked to the information booth.

  “Excuse me. My name is Dorothy Silver. I read your sign downstairs, that you need a singer.”

  “Where you from?” The girl with striking silver-blonde hair curling about her tiny face asked.

  “I am from Germany.”

  “Oh….well.” She shook her head “ I don’t think the boss is gonna wanna hire a kraut.”

  “Please miss. Give me a chance. I need a job.”

  The blonde saw the tears filling Dorothy’s eyes and she nodded. “Yeah, all right, let’s face it. I’m a sucker. Let me go and get the boss. I ain’t sure what he’s gonna say, honey, but you just sit right over there and let me go and find him.”

  Dorothy lowe
red herself onto a rickety stool. Until now, she had not been aware of the pain the heel of her shoe had caused when it cut into her flesh. It seemed she’d grown so fast that her shoes no longer fit. With her family’s lack of finances, she had opted not to ask her father for money to purchase a new pair. All of her life, she and her father had been close, so close she’d felt his pain as her own. Now she saw his struggle and would rather suffer than give weight to his feelings of inadequacy as a provider. And she knew if she asked him for money, somehow, someway, he would get it.

  Mr. McGleason limped with his pant leg dragging over his shoe to the stool where Dorothy waited.

  “Carol here tells me you need a job” He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the rolled-up sleeve of his white shirt. “Says you wanna be a singer? Hell, you don’t look old enough to be in here, let alone to be out at night.”

  “Oh, but I am…I am twenty-one,” Dorothy lied.

  McGleason let out a laugh that came straight from his large, rolling belly. “Yep, I sure heard that one before. Well, all right, I guess you can audition. Go on up on the stage and tell Jeb what song you want to sing, and he’ll play piano for you.”

  Her knees trembled as Dorothy walked up the three stairs at the corner of the stage. She went over to the piano player, and asked if he knew any love songs by the famous Helen Morgan. He smiled an almost toothless smile, and whispered to her that he did. They decided upon a song, and Dorothy walked to the center of the stage. She took the barrette out of her long curls, and let them hang loose to her waist. Then she unbuttoned the top three buttons of her blouse. When she opened her mouth and began to sing in her deep rich alto voice, everyone in the club turned to pay attention to her.

  Pleasantly surprised, Mr. McGleason winked at Carol.