by Pamela Pope
‘I can recommend the grouse, madam,’ the waiter said. Ellie looked up. The young man was foreign and he was one of the few white waiters. His hair swept back from a peak on his forehead and had a natural gloss which made it appear blue-black. Black eyebrows almost met the sideburns growing thickly above strong cheek and jawbones, and his cleanshaven chin jutted powerfully. His eyes were a warm brown. There was something about him which made her think he might be Jewish.
‘The grouse then, please,’ murmured Ellie, her voice hardly more than a whisper. She couldn’t find breath to speak any louder, having been robbed of it at the sight of this fascinating man in white uniform jacket and black trousers. Her mouth was dry. She took a sip of water from the glass he had placed before her, but an extra jerk of the train made her spill some on the cloth. Instantly he soaked it up with the white serviette he’d been carrying over his arm, and gave her a reassuring smile before taking Lionel’s order.
‘Try not to be so careless,’ Lionel admonished, when the waiter had gone. ‘You heard what the parents said.’
‘Don’t be so pompous, Lionel,’ said Ellie. She languished in her seat, a glow stealing over her. Perhaps being grown-up was not such a bad thing, after all. She touched her hair which Prudence had coaxed into six long ringlets, four of which were pinned up on the top of her head. With trembling fingers she found some stray pins, lifted the other two ringlets from her back and included them in the coil, saying: ‘Isn’t it hot in here!’
All through dinner Lionel criticised their second eldest brother.
‘I don’t mind going back early, but it’s hard on Mama. How selfish of Drew. It’s the first year we haven’t all been together on vacation and I was surprised Father agreed to him staying in Chicago in the first place. No doubt he’ll be home when we get there. He’ll never stand the hard work and conditions.’
Ellie answered in monosyllables, her support for Drew having temporarily evaporated. She watched for the waiter to appear at the end of the car and walk sure-footed along its length, his head almost touching the lamps, and she ordered extra vegetables so that he would have to return one more time to the table. He seemed pleased to do so. When he served the dishes she studied his hands, admiring the deft movements and marvelling at the dark silken hair covering the backs of them. She wanted to touch.
‘Will madam take coffee?’ he asked, when the meal was finished. Was she imagining it, or was there a softer tone in his voice now? His slightly foreign accent gave the impression of cultured speech, and she warmed to the deep ring of it.
‘I’d love some coffee,’ she said, though normally she only drank fruit juice. She deliberately flirted when their eyes met a few seconds later. ‘Thank you.’
Then, without warning, something happened that was destined to change the whole course of Ellie’s life …
One minute she was watching the coffee being poured from a silver pot, and the next the train suddenly started to shake and buck in a terrible fashion. Hot liquid cascaded into her lap, scalding her legs. She screamed, jumping up. From all sides the sound was repeated as the shuddering grew more violent and passengers panicked.
‘Get away from the window!’ yelled the waiter. And to Lionel: ‘You too, sir. It’s a derailment.’
Sure enough, the dining car lurched and careered into the back of the carriage in front, only stopped from being telescoped by the strength of the vestibule springs, but as it left the rails it tipped forward and broke almost in two. The noise was deafening, the dust choking.
Ellie was terrified. She put out her hands to save herself but everything seemed to be sliding towards her. Shattered glass tore at her skin and clothing. The waiter caught hold of her, protecting her from the worst of the impact, and as they fell he pushed her clear of a shaft of splintered wood which came cracking down from the roof into the debris. The last thing she remembered was his agonised cry as he was trapped by his legs under the wood and tables, which could have killed her, had he not been so quick-witted and brave.
There followed a terrible silence. The engine was a tangle of smoking metal. The train settled, the front cars tilting drunkenly and fire starting from an overturned stove.
A few moments before the disaster happened Jefferson Harvey, keen-eyed, saw a crew of repair men come into view round a bend in the track on the Old Colony Road near Quincy, Massachusetts. He saw them desperately trying to stop the express, but though the brakes were applied immediately it was impossible to halt the huge engine before it struck an upright ratchet jack which had become jammed in the rails.
*
It seemed like forever before rescue came. Ellie had only lost consciousness for a few minutes, and when she revived she was unable to move clear of the debris hemming her in. Blood was drying on her face from superficial cuts and she felt sure she was covered in bruises, but apart from that she seemed to be unhurt. She tested her legs and found them in good working order. Her arms likewise, though one wrist ached from taking the brunt of her fall.
She was very fortunate indeed to be alive. Only a few inches from her head lay the heavy wooden shaft which would have killed her if the waiter hadn’t risked his own life to push her aside. Through dust-filled eyes she saw him lying only a foot away, the wood across his legs.
‘Help me, someone!’ she cried, desperately afraid. Fear made her struggle to get free from the mess, but it was as if she were in a cage. ‘Lionel, where are you?’
‘Lie still,’ came a voice from her side. ‘Do you want the whole lot to fall in on us?’ Miraculously the waiter opened his eyes and with his free hand, he reached out to restrain her, though the movement made him wince with pain.
‘Where’s my brother? Is he dead? Oh, Holy Mother, please don’t let him be dead.’
‘He’s gone to get help. Be patient.’
Ellie heard new sounds. Men were clawing at the wreckage to free the injured, and it was likely to be a while before they reached the dining car. Ahead of it the need for help was greater. She wanted to ease the pain for the young man at her side, but didn’t know what to do. His eyes closed again.
‘You won’t die, will you,’ she pleaded.
His lips twisted into a painful smile. ‘No. It’ll take more than this to kill Max Berman.’
‘Is that your name?’ She snatched on the information to take her mind off what was happening.
‘Yes. What is yours?’
‘Elena Harvey. Everyone calls me Ellie, except Mama and Papa.’ With difficulty in the confined space she managed to remove the jacket of her lavender-coloured travelling dress, folded it and lifted his head to put it underneath. ‘Is that any better? What else can I do for you? You saved my life.’
‘Just keep talking. I must stay awake.’
‘What shall I talk about?’
‘You.’
So Ellie told him about the vacation on Martha’s Vineyard, described her brothers and told him how beautiful her Mama was, and how strict Papa could be. Then she cried a little. ‘Do you think they’re all right? Our car was near the end of the train.’
‘I’m sure they are. You’re very brave, Ellie.’ Max stared at her for several seconds admiringly, then shut his eyes once more.
‘Don’t go to sleep,’ she urged, leaning over him with fresh anxiety. Beads of perspiration had collected on his forehead and she wiped them away with her fingers, conscious that he was a stranger and she was being very familiar. Yet it seemed natural to touch him. The feel of his skin beneath her fingertips caused new and disturbing sensations to excite her. She willed him to open his eyes again, longing to look into them. Dear Holy Mother, she’d never felt like this before. ‘Tell me about you. I want to know all about you.’
‘I am very uninteresting,’ he said.
‘No one is uninteresting. I like people. Where do you come from?’
‘Russia.’ He sounded exhausted but forced himself to go on speaking. ‘My family live in Chicago now.’
�
��Oh, how wonderful. I live there too.’
He stroked her face, and she shivered. ‘In a very different part of the city, I’m sure. My father is a tailor. He wanted me to learn the trade but already my older brother Laban is helping him and there wouldn’t be enough for us all to do.’
‘So you took a job on the railroad.’
‘I have to earn money, but I want to create things. I’m very clever with my hands.’ He flexed his fingers experimentally. ‘If I lost the use of them I don’t know what I’d do. I want to make beautiful furniture.’ There was a chair balanced above him which was covered in velvet and quilted with buttons. The silk fringe danced in the dust. ‘So much I should like to do that,’ he murmured. Then the effort to talk was too great and his head lolled sideways against her.
To her enormous relief voices soon came closer, shouting reassurance. Men arrived to free victims trapped in the dining car, and dust flew in renewed clouds as they started to heave aside the obstructions. Ellie called as loudly as she could to direct the rescuers to herself and Max.
‘Please get this man out,’ she shouted. ‘I think his legs are broken.’
She refused to be moved first and stayed beside Max to cushion him against extra pain as they lifted him clear. When he was safely lying on a rug at the grassy side of the track with experienced people to help him she let willing hands ensure her own safety, and she shook uncontrollably with delayed shock as soon as she was free.
Papa appeared, panting, dishevelled and grey with worry. Lionel and Jefferson were with him, both unscathed.
‘Elena, my darling, it’s all right,’ her father cried, gathering her into his arms. ‘Papa’s here. You’re safe now.’ She had never seen him so agitated.
‘Where’s Mama?’
‘Your Mama is all right, too. Very shaken, like you.’
‘It’s all so awful,’ Ellie wailed.
‘I know, I know.’
She let herself be comforted for several minutes while her brothers joined the rescue operations, and she heard the beat of her father’s heart as she rested against his chest. Then she pulled away.
‘I owe my life to that man over there,’ she told Papa, indicating the group a few feet away. ‘He pushed me clear and was trapped himself by his legs. He’s badly hurt. You must do something for him.’
‘He’ll be rewarded,’ Papa promised. ‘I’ll make enquiries.’
‘I know his name and all about him. His name’s Max Berman. He’s a waiter …’
‘Hush now, sweetheart. I’m only interested in getting you somewhere safe.’
Her father picked her up and carried her away from the devastation, away from the man she had known only the briefest time, but whom she would never forget. She looked back but couldn’t see him, and she began to weep.
Later, the family was recovering in an hotel in Quincy. In the aftermath of a disaster which had claimed the lives of fifteen people and left forty-six seriously injured, time was needed for the track to be repaired and the wreckage cleared before another train could take the Harveys home to Chicago. The delay was another worry on top of the previous day’s trauma, but it gave Ellie time to work on her father’s sympathies before the problem of Drew became all-important again.
‘You promised to help Max Berman, Papa,’ she reminded him.
‘I’ve already arranged for the man to have every care and attention in hospital at my expense.’
She took a breath and suggested something which had come to her overnight. ‘I want you to speak to my godfather and get Max a job in the Pullman Works where he can learn to make furniture.’
‘My dear girl, what gave you such an extraordinary idea?’ Papa was very surprised.
‘You’ve got to help him to get the kind of job he wants, when he’s well.’
‘Aren’t you asking too much?’
‘He saved my life,’ Ellie said, refusing to give up. She twined her arms about his neck and kissed him. ‘How much am I worth to you?’
‘Everything, of course, my darling.’
‘Then please, for my sake, speak to Mr Pullman.’
Papa could never resist her wheedling. Elena was his shining light, his treasure, his adored only daughter. He had never denied her anything within reason that she truly wanted.
‘Very well,’ he promised. ‘I’ll ask George as a favour to give the man a trial, but if your protégé proves useless, George must have the right to stand him off without question. I can’t see a waiter becoming a skilled worker in a hurry.’
Ellie squeezed him with gratitude. ‘Thank you, Papa.’
She could relax. There was no doubt at all in her mind that Max would make the most of the opportunity she had won for him.
*
So it was that Max Berman, a fiercely proud and independent young man, became entangled with the Harveys. The first thread was in position which would draw him slowly into a world of materialism, a world in which wealth and influence were all-powerful. The thread appeared to be golden.
As soon as his leg was mended, Max was invited to present himself to the foreman of the upholstery shop, part of the vast Pullman Palace Car Company in the model town of the same name situated on the outskirts of Chicago. He was to be trained as a craftsman.
‘You sure must have powerful friends,’ said the foreman. ‘Mr Pullman himself sent word you’re to get special training.’ The man barely disguised his opinion of favouritism. ‘In disgrace, are you? Kicked out of your rich home without a dime? Well, I’m telling you, sonny, this is no soft option. You’ll have to work your guts out here.’
‘I was a Pullman Car waiter,’ Max answered, struggling to remain polite, ‘but I’m working my way up. I’ve never met Mr Pullman — he just heard of me.’
‘Smart guy, eh?’
‘I’m capable of better things than being a waiter, but I wouldn’t go crawling. It just so happened I was owed a favour, and I’m to be given the chance to learn about upholstery from a good craftsman, sir — if you’ll accept me. I don’t aim to make a habit of being helped up the ladder. I shall do it my own way, but right now I’ll be real grateful for your help.’
The foreman’s attitude remained sceptical, but he admired initiative. He was to discover that Max Berman had a lot of talent and plenty of ambition, which soon made him one of the most skilled men in the workshop. He also got on well with everyone — but he would not be put upon.
Within two years of arriving at Pullman, Max was working on intricate chairs which adjusted to give rest to every part of the anatomy while travelling. These chairs had foot-rests and reclining backs which could be locked into whatever position afforded the best comfort, and were scientifically designed to support the shoulders, pelvis, back and lumbar regions; if complaints were received, it was diplomatically pointed out that the passenger must be at fault. He used rich fabrics and hand-carved wood of the finest quality to construct seating which could have graced the most luxurious parlour. And considerable interest was shown in the drawings he submitted of new ideas he wanted to implement. In a very short time, Max Berman had graduated with honours from waiter to craftsman.
His improved wages enabled him to rent a tenement apartment in the town of Pullman. For his three-roomed flat on the third floor of one of the blockhouses on Fulton Street, he paid eight dollars a week, and this included a gas cooking stove and lighting, a sink and water tap, and a pantry. The place was too large just for one so his sister Katrina came to keep house for him. Within a few months she had found herself a husband who was only too happy to move in as well.
Max’s physical needs were taken care of by a girl called Mariette Schuman, but he didn’t feel inclined to make her his wife. She lived in a predominantly Jewish area of Chicago close to his parents, and as she too was Jewish no doubt he would have received their blessing if he’d had a mind to marry her. Katrina had hurt them greatly by marrying outside the faith. However, although he was fond of her, Max didn’t feel t
hat Mariette would fit in with the other Pullman wives.
After a while Max almost forgot that he owed his current prosperity to a pretty dark-haired girl whose life he had saved — but whose face he couldn’t remember.
Two
There was a lantern hanging from every tree in the garden on Elena Harvey’s eighteenth birthday — a big, round, rosy-red lantern with a lighted candle inside to illuminate the delicate cherry blossom. And between the lanterns fluttered huge paper butterflies, colouring the warm May evening with their brilliance. Sake was being served in a tea-house erected by the maple trees, and liberal consumption of the seemingly innocuous drink of fermented rice caused laughter to gust out at intervals. It vied with the sound of the samisens playing tinkling music in a minor key, which was far too sad for the frivolous occasion.
This was the most lavish party seen in Chicago in a long time, and everyone of any social standing had been invited. Seven hundred guests filled the garden, no expense had been spared and there was no indication that a recession was biting in that spring of 1893. The party theme was Japanese, and as costumes were obligatory, it was difficult to pick out the rich and influential from those with less prestige.
Elena flitted around her guests like an exotic bird, graciously receiving gifts.
‘Why, Mrs Canter, how kind of you. Mr Dean, how thoughtful. Mrs Fairman, I can’t wait to see what’s inside this gorgeous wrapping.’ And the presents were piled high, to be opened later.
‘Elena, there are still people arriving,’ her father said, catching up with her as she moved among friends whom she had not seen since her return a week ago from the Paris finishing school. ‘You should be greeting them on the terrace. Take my arm — I’m afraid you’ll fall in that ridiculous footwear.’
