Ellis Island: Three Novels

by Joan Lowery Nixon

  “The poorhouse,” someone in the crowd murmured.

  “This was our last call of the day,” the second man said. “We can’t budge the old woman, and we don’t want to carry her out screaming. Maybe you can talk some sense into her head.”

  “She has a name,” Jane Addams said firmly. “Will you please use it?”

  He pulled a form from his pocket and glanced at it. “Gertrude Bauer,” he said. “We told her we’d come to take her where she’d be cared for, but she’d have to leave everything here. Then she started behaving like this.”

  Rose was so upset by the poor woman’s fear that she broke in without thinking. “It’s such a small box. Why can’t she take it with her?”

  “Because it’s against the rules,” the man said.

  “Anybody going to a poorhouse hasn’t got anything of value anyway,” the other added.

  “A photograph, a tiny memento … you can’t imagine how valuable they can be,” Miss Addams said as she bent to touch Mrs. Bauer’s shoulder. “Don’t be afraid, dear. You’re not going with them,” she said.

  “Our orders …” one man began, but Miss Addams interrupted.

  “Go back and tell your superiors that I guarantee Mrs. Bauer will be cared for,” she said. She looked toward the wide-eyed faces peering into the doorway. “Please,” she asked, “some of you who are Mrs. Bauer’s neighbors, will you help her, too?”

  “Oh, yes,” a woman answered and shuddered as she said, “I didn’t know the dear old thing was on her way to the poorhouse. That’s the last place I’d want anyone to go—myself included. I can come up with a bit extra in a meal or two.”

  “I’ll help,” another woman said, and a boy said, “My ma often sends things to eat to Mrs. Bauer. She’ll keep sending them.”

  As the men from the county left the room Miss Addams knelt beside Mrs. Bauer and smoothed her hair. “We’ll all help you,” she said. “Do you have any family we can send for?”

  Mrs. Bauer raised her tear-swollen face and sat back on the floor with a thump. Her skin was so transparent that Rose could see spiderlike trails of blue lines under the surface. It was hard for Mrs. Bauer to speak English, but she managed, with a muddled mingling of German and English words, to say that her husband had been killed in the mines. She’d had two sons and a daughter, but all of them had died before they were fully grown.

  Now that the county agents had gone two neighbors became brave enough to enter the apartment. As one helped Mrs. Bauer to her feet Miss Addams drew the other aside and asked, “Can you help her to comb her hair? To bathe?”

  The neighbor nodded, so Miss Addams motioned to Rose and left the apartment house. “Thank you,” she said to the people who still remained. “Thank you for helping.”

  On the sidewalk Miss Addams studied Rose, dressed in her snug-waisted jacket, skirt, and sailor hat, and said, “You don’t live on this block.”

  “No,” Rose answered and introduced herself. “I live near Wabash, and I was on my way to Hull House to go to a party. I’ve just arrived from Ireland. I was hoping there’ll be dancing because I love to dance.”

  Miss Addams smiled. “We’ll walk to Hull House together, Rose.”

  As they skirted a group of children playing on the sidewalk, Rose said, “I don’t think I really understand Hull House.”

  Miss Addams explained, “Hull House is my attempt to bring together the people who have come to the United States and help them learn to adapt to this country and to adapt to each other, living in peace.”

  They reached a large complex of brick buildings, and Miss Addams led the way past some of them into a building with a broad, pillared porch and large front doors with beveled glass that was decorated like a beautiful home.

  “These are our offices, and my staff and I live upstairs,” Miss Addams explained. “You’ll find that in the other buildings …”

  She was interrupted by a woman so upset her face was mottled red. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Miss Addams,” she stammered, “but you need to know. That block of apartments with rats and raw sewage that we want to clean up—well, Alderman Powers is opposing us. He says he’s not going to let a bunch of old-lady busybodies interrupt legitimate business operations! Not only that, he’s got Hinky Dink to support him.”

  “Hinky Dink?” Rose interrupted in amazement. “What kind of person would be named Hinky Dink?”

  “Michael ‘Hinky Dink’ Kenna,” Miss Addams answered. “He’s probably the most crooked of all the aldermen, controlling most of the vice in Chicago.” She turned back to her assistant. “Don’t let this upset you, Margaret. We won’t let Powers and Kenna stop us. We’ll take this to the entire city council, of course, but we’ll also notify The Chicago Times, and we’ll make up some handbills and distribute them all over the city. Call Mayor Harrison and make an appointment for me.”

  As Miss Addams outlined her plans, Rose saw Margaret relax. Miss Addams reminded Rose of Ma. She’d stand up to anyone who wanted to keep her from doing the right thing.

  “I’m sorry for the interruption,” Miss Addams said. “As I was telling you, in the other buildings we have a kindergarten for young children and classrooms where we teach adults everything from cooking and hygiene to understanding credit and using North American banks. We also have lecture halls, a small art gallery, and a dining hall.” Her eyes twinkled. “The party will be held in the dining hall.”

  She pointed Rose in the right direction, and as Rose thanked her Miss Addams added, “Please come back soon. I’m sure you have some talents you can share with us. We have many volunteer teachers.”

  Rose ducked her head. “I’m afraid there’s nothing I could teach anyone, unless it’s the jig.”

  “Teaching a jig might be of interest to many. How about next Sunday afternoon at two o’clock? We’ve invited an international group. You can show them some Irish dances.”

  “There’ll be Irish music?”

  “Our fiddler can play music from any country.”

  “I’ll be here,” Rose said.

  She found the dining hall easily. Kate and Tim were waiting for her, and Tim smiled as she walked toward them.

  The party was not what Rose had expected, but she was delighted. The guests had come to entertain one another with dances and songs from their native countries, and some of them wore amazing costumes. Two husky men from Greece wore short white pleated skirts and flopping tassels on their shoes. There was food from Italy, Sweden, Poland, and Greece; some of it tasted delicious, some of it a little strange.

  Kate knew many people and kept introducing Rose to them. The festive feeling reminded Rose of the night on board ship when she and Rebekah and Kristin joined the celebration of immigrants who had come from many countries. If only Rebekah and Kristin could be here tonight! Wouldn’t they love this party!

  Having Tim at the party made Rose’s heart beat so fast she knew it meant something special, and when it was over and he was helping Rose with her jacket, he whispered, “You are the prettiest girl here tonight.”

  Delighted, Rose smiled up at him. “I’m glad you came. Johnny didn’t think you would.”

  “Johnny and Alderman McMahan don’t go along with all Jane Addams does, and I don’t agree with all she says. You can’t have peace until after you’ve won what you’ve been fighting for.” Quietly, he added, “But I didn’t come because of Jane Addams.”

  Rose felt her face flush and quickly changed the subject. “I’ve been asked to come here a week from Sunday and teach the jig.”

  “Will you want a partner? I like to dance.”

  “Do you? Wonderful!”

  Tim took her hand and for just an instant held her fingertips to his lips. “I’ll come and dance with you, Rosie.”

  “Thank you,” Rose managed to stammer and tried to hide her confusion. “Then I’ll see you next week.”

  “Sooner than that,” he replied cheerfully. “I’m going to escort you home after we drop off Kate.”

  The
three took the cable car to Kate’s house, then said good night. They waited for the trolley to take Rose home, so it was late—after eleven o’clock—when they reached Rose’s house. A light glowed from behind the drawn curtains in the parlor.

  Rose glanced up and said, “Da must be waiting up for me. Would you like to come in?”

  “Not tonight,” Tim said. “It’s late. But I’ll be here to take you to the dancing a week from tomorrow, and I’ll visit with your family then.”

  “Thank you for taking me home.” Rose looked up at him.

  In answer Tim leaned down and lightly kissed her cheek.

  Rose turned and ran up the steps, flinging open the door and leaning against it. She knew a man didn’t kiss a woman—even on the cheek—unless the two of them were so serious they were talking about marriage. Rose was surprised that the idea of marriage to Tim Ryan didn’t seem strange at all. She quickly pushed those thoughts from her mind. She was years away from marriage—or was she?

  For an instant Rose felt nervous about what Ma would think of such shocking behavior, but then she remembered the touch of Tim’s lips on her face and smiled. Rose had liked being kissed by Tim Ryan, and there was really no need for Ma, or for anyone else, to be told.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ROSE looked around the house to find that Da wasn’t home and neither was Johnny, although Rose could hear Michael’s growling snores coming from the room he shared with his brother.

  In the kitchen, Rose found a stack of unwashed dishes in the sink. She worked quickly, cleaning up, and within a short time order had been restored. As Rose turned to hang up the damp dish towel her foot struck something. She bent down to pick it up. What was a potato doing in the middle of the kitchen floor?

  With a sinking heart Rose tugged out the sack of potatoes and reached inside, pulling out the glass jar and dumping its contents into her lap. She well remembered the total she had written after she’d made her own addition earlier, and after her count she discovered the amount was short by three dollars.

  Sick at heart, she clutched the jar to her chest. It was Da who had taken the money. She was sure of it. Her father was lonely for her mother. He had said he was. Rose knew he was. How could he possibly throw away the money meant for Ma’s passage to the United States?

  Rose heard the front door open and close. In a few minutes Johnny appeared in the kitchen doorway.

  “You’re home safe and sound, I see, but what are you doing down there on …?” He broke off as he saw the empty jar and the money in her skirt. “It looks as though Da finally found your hiding place.”

  “He took three dollars.”

  Johnny sat cross-legged beside her. He pried the jar from her arms and stuffed the money back inside it. “Rosie,” he said, “don’t sound so tragic. It isn’t the end of the world.”

  “How much longer is it going to take us to save the passage money if Da uses it to buy whiskey?”

  “You, Michael, and I will make up the difference. We did it for you.”

  Anger welled up, a bitter taste in her mouth. “Making up the difference is not the same. Don’t you see? It’s as though he doesn’t care enough about Ma.”

  Johnny put a hand on her shoulder, and for a change his eyes were solemn. “You can’t see inside Da’s heart and mind, Rosie. You’ve no right to judge him.”

  “I’m so terribly lonely for Ma!”

  “So is Da. But he’s lonely, too, for Ireland. He was a property owner there, a farmer who knew and loved the land.”

  “Michael told me practically the same thing, but that doesn’t excuse Da from taking money to buy whiskey.”

  “No, it doesn’t excuse him.”

  Rose slumped, and tears came to her eyes. “What should we do about this, Johnny? What would Ma do if she were here?”

  “To begin with, Ma would find a better hiding place.” The twinkle came back to Johnny’s eyes, and he rested an arm around Rose’s shoulders.

  “And then?”

  “That’s the part I don’t know, so why don’t you just work on the first part? I’ll walk down to Casey’s right now and bring Da home. You get to bed, Rosie. The way you feel, it will be better if the two of you have nothing to say to each other tonight.”

  Rose gave her brother a quick hug and carried the jar to her bedroom. Earlier, Rose had discovered that the wardrobe had a false bottom. Now she pried up one end and found there was a space just wide enough to hold the money jar, if the jar were laid on its side. She tucked the board back in place and examined it. She could relax. No one could guess that the jar was hidden there.

  But even after Rose had turned out her bedroom lamp and gone to bed, she couldn’t sleep. As she lay awake she heard footsteps move up the stairs and enter the parlor. One set was sure and quick; one set was heavy and stumbling.

  “Judge not lest ye be judged.” Rose had heard her teacher, Sister Rita, say this often. She tried her best to soften her heart toward her father, finding comfort in reminding herself that time would pass quickly and soon Ma and the girls would come.

  The next morning Da could eat no breakfast and begged off going to Mass, returning to bed with a monstrous headache.

  He looked so miserable that Rose brought him a cold cloth for his forehead. She walked to St. Columbanus with Johnny and Michael, who held a noisy discussion about the necessity of collecting money to fund an insurgent group in Ireland.

  Rose didn’t involve herself with their conversation. She had enough to think about. Somehow, she had to make Da understand how she felt about what he was doing.

  Da had regained his appetite by the time Rose served the noon meal, and although he glanced contritely at Rose now and again, he said nothing. Rose, unsure of how she should react, didn’t refer to the episode either.

  Immediately after the meal both Michael and Johnny left the house. Where Johnny was off to was anyone’s guess, but Rose supposed that Michael was on his way to see his Ellen.

  The sky was gray, with on-again, off-again showers. Rose stayed indoors, using the time to take care of the family’s mending and to bake bread ahead for the next few days.

  To her surprise her father was in a good mood and asked her to play a game of draughts. “Checkers, it’s called here in America,” he told her as he put out the board.

  As they played, Rose remembered games like this she’d played with Da in their home in Ireland. Had it been so long ago? The kitchen had been fragrant with smoldering peat and Ma’s soups simmering at the back of the stove, and Rose had felt so loved.

  After her father had won three games to two, Rose leaned back in her chair and said, “Da, I’m going to teach Irish dancing at Hull House next Sunday afternoon. Why don’t you come and watch me?”

  He looked pleased. “Are you that fine a dancer then, Rosie girl?”

  Rose laughed as she stood up and lifted her skirts above her ankles. “I’ll show you. Just pretend there’s music,” she said, and her heels and toes beat out a rapid tattoo.

  A sudden thumping came from below them, and a muffled voice shouted, “What’s all the noise about? What’s going on up there?”

  Rose flopped into a chair, giggling. “It’s easy to see that the Horbowys don’t appreciate the Irish jig—at least when it’s taking place over their heads.”

  Da smiled. “You take after your mother, Rosie. When she was young, Maura was always the fine dancer. Other dancers would stop just to watch her.”

  “Da,” Rose said softly, “let’s do everything we can to bring Ma here as soon as possible.”

  “Of course, Rosie,” her father answered, but he looked down at the draughts board, fumbling with the pieces as he packed them inside their box.

  “With the three steerage fares and the twenty-five dollars apiece, it’s going to take every cent we can spare.” She hoped and prayed she hadn’t sounded like a scold.

  Da’s eyes looked misty. “All morning I’ve been blaming myself and hating myself for what I did yesterday. But I though
t if I met with the boys I’d find out who might be hiring—there’s something I’ve set my mind to find out about—and you know that when they’re buying rounds I have to pay my own share. I’d be ashamed not to.”

  Rose realized she should have expected excuses. “It’s all right, Da,” she managed to say.

  “No, it’s not all right, Rosie, and I’ll be the first to admit it,” he declared. “But I promise you just what I promised myself—I’ll never again take so much as a penny of that passage money. Believe me, Rosie. Please, believe me.”

  “I believe you, Da,” Rose said firmly.

  Her father smiled the way a naughty child would smile once he’d been forgiven. As he pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his eyes, Rose thought, I believe you, not because of your promises, but because I’m going to make sure you’ll never find that jar of money again!

  CHAPTER NINE

  DURING the following week Da was hired to lay brick by the contractor for a building being constructed on Michigan Avenue. He came home promptly each night, he turned his paycheck over to Rose on Saturday night, and she felt guilty that she had ever doubted him.

  Early the following Sunday afternoon, Tim arrived. Rose enjoyed his surprise when she announced, “Not only are we lucky to have my father come along, but Michael and Ellen are going to join us there.”

  “That’s good news,” Tim said politely, but as Rose’s father put on his coat and hat, Tim secretively reached for Rose’s hand and squeezed it tightly.

  Rose quickly pulled her hand away, but she smiled up at him, enjoying his boldness.

  The afternoon was filled with laughter and music, and Rose was giddy with the joy of the applause. She had never danced so well with anyone as she had with Tim.

  “You’re the best dancer I’ve ever seen,” Tim told her. “You even make me look good.”

  Da danced, and so did Michael, although he was known in the family to be rather clumsy and not a polished dancer. Ellen, as his partner, was a good sport.