“A fine girl,” Da said to Michael, obviously impressed. “You couldn’t do better. When your mother comes …”
Michael interrupted, his eyes on Ellen, who was Tim’s partner for this dance. “I wish we could marry now.”
“You and Ellen are young. There’s plenty of time. You know that in Ireland the girls wait until they’re twenty-eight or twenty-nine to marry. Why, your mother and I …”
“Da, they wait so long because there’s such poverty. It’s different here.”
“When your mother comes.” Da began again.
Michael nodded. “Yes. We’ll bring Ma and the girls here first. Ellen and I have agreed to that.”
Rose saw Ellen glance over at Michael and smile as though he were the only man in the room. She vowed that she’d be extra careful with her salary so that Ma could come all the sooner.
A Bavarian polka was called. It had a quick beat and, after a quick instruction in the step from the fiddle master, Rose found herself paired with Tim, caught in the fast-paced beat, laughing as they whirled and turned. When the music stopped she collapsed against him, and his arm on her waist slid to encircle her.
A heavy hand dropped to her shoulder, and her father’s voice boomed in her ear, “The next dance is mine. I’m not too old to prance around the room the way the rest of you are doing.”
It was the last dance, because five-thirty—the end of the dancing lesson—had arrived. As Rose slipped on her jacket she saw Jane Addams pause in the doorway, and she hurried to thank her for her invitation.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get to see you dance,” Miss Addams said. “Everyone seems to have had a wonderful time.” She nodded toward a middle-aged couple and smiled. “Don’t tell me that you were able to teach the Irish jig to Mr. and Mrs. DiFiorno!”
Rose chuckled and said, “There are people here from so many faraway places.”
“This is a small sample of what world peace could be,” Miss Addams said, “with everyone forgetting about differences in language and customs in order to share enjoyment together.”
“Do you really believe world peace will come someday?” Rose asked.
“Of course I believe.” She rested her fingertips on Rose’s arm. “Isn’t it better to work for peace than to accept the alternative?”
“You and my mother—who is still in Ireland—have a lot in common,” Rose answered.
Miss Addams smiled and said, “Come to Hull House on Wednesday night, if you can. We’re having a meeting of our Young People’s League. We always have an interesting speaker on current affairs, and everyone is encouraged to ask questions.”
“I’m afraid I’m not too knowledgeable about current affairs,” Rose murmured.
“Then you should be,” Miss Addams replied. “You’ll find many other young working girls in the group.”
“All right. I’ll try to come,” Rose said. She felt grateful to this woman who seemed to offer so much.
Rose hurried to join her father and Tim. She soon found herself riding home on the cable car with her father, who firmly pointed out to Tim that it would be folly to waste the money to ride all the way to Rose’s house and home again when she already had her father on hand to escort her.
Once they were settled inside the car and it had started up with a clanging of bells and a grinding of the huge clamp pulled up by the gripman, Da pulled a face and grunted, “A city’s made of nothing but bricks and mortar and miles of pavement, and all of it held together with great quantities of noise. Sometimes I long for the open fields and all the green of Ireland.”
He looked so wistful Rose tried to change the subject. “Did you have fun at the dance?” she asked.
“That I did.”
“And did you like Kate and her brother Tim?”
“Kate’s a fine girl, and Tim Ryan seems like a nice enough young man who’s mighty interested in my daughter.”
“Da!” Rose exclaimed. Her face grew hot, and she hoped that none of the other passengers had overheard him. “Tim is Johnny’s friend. He’s just being a friend to me, as well.”
“It’s a good idea to keep that in mind,” her father said. “You have many years ahead of you before you even begin to think of getting married.”
“I’m not thinking of getting married, Da,” Rose murmured. “Not now, at least, and not to Tim Ryan.” But as she said the words she blushed again and knew they might not be as true as they sounded. She wanted what Ma had—a loving husband and children—and she’d be a good wife and mother with a family of her own to care for.
Her father nodded. “Over the years I’ve met a number of young men like Tim Ryan. They’re out to change the world, single-handed, if you please. Just keep your good sense about you where he’s concerned.”
“Let’s not talk any more about Tim,” Rose said.
Da let out a long sigh. “Ah, Rosie girl, at a time like this I suppose there are many things you should be hearing from your mother. A father won’t … that is he can’t …”
“It’s all right, Da,” Rose mumbled. “Ma’s already said them.”
Her father sat up a little straighter and smiled with relief. “Well, then, that’s that,” he said. “Let’s talk about your birthday. Only six more days, you know. We’re going to make it a special day.”
“Oh, Da, you don’t need to,” Rose protested, but she was thrilled that her father wanted to give her a wonderful day. She felt as excited as though she were a child.
On Wednesday evening Rose took the cable car to Hull House after work. As she entered the room where the Young People’s League was to hold its meeting, she felt shy among so many strangers, but people near her began to chat with her.
The president of the group rapped for order, the audience quickly took seats, and the speaker was introduced. Mr. Benjamin Rish was from one of the eastern universities, and the girl sitting next to Rose whispered, “Socialist.”
Rose was surprised. “Are all …?” she began, but the girl shook her head.
“Miss Addams believes in freedom of speech. We hear every kind of political thought. It’s just that the socialists are leading the way in reform of working conditions.”
Mr. Rish began speaking about terrible working conditions in the factories, and Rose was shocked at what she heard about working hours of twelve to fourteen a day, lack of safety measures, and poor equipment.
A woman held up her right hand, on which two fingers were missing. “This happened the first day I began work in a cotton mill. I was thirteen,” she said. “They gave me little instruction in how to use the equipment and blamed me for carelessness.”
While members of the audience asked question after question and spoke of unions, strikes, and reform, Rose listened. She wondered if these conditions existed in all cities and was grateful for her own good fortune in working for the Sweeneys.
The next evening Johnny burst into the house just before dinner, tossing his derby at the hat rack and grabbing Rose’s arm. “Eat fast!” he said. “Tonight you’re going with Alderman McMahan and Tim and me to deliver baskets.”
“I have the kitchen to clean and mending to do,” Rose insisted.
“Let it wait. You need to see how happy an alderman can make his constituents. You wanted to know what I do, so come and see. No arguments, Rosie girl. You’re going with us.”
Rose scarcely had time to gobble the meal and put on her jacket and hat before Johnny pulled her out the door. They took a cable car uptown and Johnny led Rose to a large, ornate brick building where Alderman McMahan had his office.
A broad-shouldered, portly man with more hair in his sideburns than on top of his head greeted Rose. McMahan said to Johnny in a booming voice while energetically pumping her hand with his large, plump one, “You’re a fortunate lad to have such a beautiful, charming sister.”
Rose remembered her manners. “Thank you, sir, for helping me find such a fine job,” she said. “The Sweeneys are good people to work for.”
Alderman McMa
han beamed. “Anything I can do to help my friends,” he said. “Anything at all. They need only ask.”
When Tim arrived, his first smile was for Rose, and she was glad she had come.
“I’ve missed you,” Tim whispered to Rose as they followed Alderman McMahan and Johnny out to a well-laden wagon.
“We were together Sunday,” Rose said.
“It’s still too long a time to suit me. I’ve never felt like this before.”
“Hurry up,” Johnny called to them. “Climb up on the wagon. Alderman McMahan will ride ahead in his carriage.”
Tim firmly clasped Rose’s hand, helped her onto the wagon seat, and smiled down at her in a way that caused her heart to beat faster.
It was all business, however, when they arrived in the neighborhood called “Back of the Yards.” It was a cool evening, yet people still sat on the steps of the crowded soot-smeared houses, and children played tag and hide-and-seek among the trash bins.
McMahan jumped from his carriage as though he were a young man and began pumping the hands that reached out toward him. “I’m here to see dear old Mrs. McBride,” he said to them. “I heard she was down with pleurisy and came as fast as I could to help.” He snapped his fingers in the direction of the wagon, and Johnny leapt to the street, tugging a box filled with food from the wagon.
“Ah! You’re a good man, Alderman McMahan,” someone said, and others murmured agreement.
Rose was unconvinced. She realized the gesture was simply a trade-off for a vote.
She picked up her skirt and followed Johnny and McMahan up the stairs—Tim holding her elbow. The apartment to the left of the hallway was small and dark, but at least five adults were crowded inside it. On a bed at the far wall was a shriveled woman whose white hair flew in tangled wisps around her face. She peered out at them with pain-filled eyes, and Rose’s heart ached for her.
McMahan praised her for how well she looked under such difficult circumstances, practically plumped her pillows, and presented her with a small cake that rested on top of the contents of the box Johnny had put on the table.
Rose guessed the men in the room were the woman’s husband and grown sons. They crowded around the box, exclaiming their thanks.
“You can always count on me,” McMahan boomed. “As long as I’m in office I’m here to help.”
Two of the men looked at each other, and one spoke up. “I got a ticket for leaving my rags cart in a place where they said it shouldn’t be parked, although with the street so crowded, where else I could have left it I don’t know.”
McMahan clapped an arm around the man’s shoulders. “Give me the ticket and think no more of it. It’s taken care of.”
The man’s fingers scrambled through his pockets until they found and pulled out the traffic citation. “Thank you, Alderman,” he said. “You’re a good man.”
McMahan laughed. “I’m counting on you to remember that when it comes time to vote.”
“Oh, I will! We all will, won’t we, lads?”
With another round of handshakes McMahan left the room, Johnny, Tim, and Rose following in his wake like a small parade.
Over and over they donated food gifts—to a family with a new baby, to a bride and groom, and to others who were ill or out of work.
Finally, the delivery work was over, and Rose, Johnny, and Tim left the alderman, a cloud of gratitude from his constituents still swirling around his head.
“Now, aren’t you impressed?” Johnny asked Rose.
“I’m trying to sort it all out in my mind,” Rose said. “The alderman wants votes, so he helps the poor. I don’t like the way the things were given, but I realize those people badly needed help.”
“That last part is all you have to think about,” Johnny told her. “The reasons behind the donations aren’t important.”
“They are to the alderman.”
Johnny laughed. “Rosie, there’s no hope for you. You’ll never understand the first thing about politics.” Before she could retort, Johnny said to Tim, “I’ve got to stay at the office and bring the records up-to-date. Will you take Rosie home?”
“Gladly,” Tim said. When they were out of Johnny’s hearing, he confided, “I’ve been wanting a chance to be alone with you.” He grinned. “Without your father between us.”
Rose laughed and tucked her hand inside Tim’s, not caring if she was bold. The cable car arrived, and they climbed aboard, squeezing together on one of the narrow seats.
“I haven’t made up my mind about Alderman McMahan,” she said. “Aside from handing out gifts and fixing traffic fines, what does an alderman do?”
“Each ward of the city has an alderman, and the aldermen make up the city council.”
“So they help run the city.”
There was no humor in Tim’s smile. “The aldermen are powerful,” he said, “and while they’re in office they become very wealthy. They prosper from boodling and …”
“From what?”
“Boodling. Selling city franchises to businessmen is called boodling. You can’t do anything in this city without paying off one or more aldermen. They control everything that goes on, including the vices.”
Rose shivered. “How can you and my brother work for a man like that?”
“I won’t for long,” Tim answered. “The job I have with McMahan provides a decent living. He’s allowed me to arrange my hours so that I take afternoon courses at the university.” He smiled at Rose’s look of surprise and explained, “It may take awhile, but I have plans to go into law.”
“To be a barrister?”
“In the United States they’re called attorneys.”
“Oh, Tim, that’s wonderful! When you learn all those fine legal words to talk judges into thinking the way you want them to, then maybe you’ll agree that peaceful discussions are better than violence.”
Tim scowled, and Rose held her breath, hoping that she hadn’t ruined this beautiful evening by starting an argument. But Tim turned toward her and said, “Someday, Rosie, you won’t be riding cable cars. You’ll be driven down State Street in style in an automobile.”
“Those horrible things that I’ve been told scare horses?” Rose laughed. “I’ve never even seen one.”
The rest of their talk had no more substance than the wisps of clouds that skittered across the moon. They laughed, they teased, and Tim whispered compliments that reddened Rose’s cheeks.
No one else was on the street when they reached Rose’s house. At the front door Tim wrapped his arms around her tightly and kissed her long and full on her lips.
“We shouldn’t,” Rose whispered. “I hardly know you. It’s not proper. My mother would be shocked.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a kiss.”
“Well, if that’s all it is …”
Tim interrupted. “That’s not all it is, Rose. It’s a way of saying ‘I love you.’ ”
Rose’s heart bounced, and she found it hard to breathe. “Tim! We have only known each other a short while. It’s too soon to think of love.”
“Is it?” he asked and kissed her again.
Rose had no answer. She melted like warm butter as she leaned against him.
CHAPTER TEN
ROSE was kept so busy by her thoughts of Tim, her sales work at Sweeney’s, and her housework at the flat that the week rushed past. When a letter arrived from Kristin, Rose tore the envelope open and read it eagerly.
Kristin’s family had purchased a farm in a Swedish community north of Minneapolis. She described the beautiful cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul, which didn’t sound the least bit like Chicago.
Kristin’s letter was brimming with ideas new to Rose. One passage was so interesting Rose reread it again and again: “A group of women who live in those cities are working hard to help women gain the vote. Father won’t even let me talk about voting. He strongly believes that men should handle the running of governments because women don’t have the knowledge or the brains. Father is going to have
a surprise one of these days. As I told you and Rebekah on board the ship, my father has no idea that I’m not the good and dutiful daughter he believes me to be!”
Rose was touched by Kristin’s wish for Rose’s happy birthday. “I haven’t made close friends the way you and I quickly did on board ship. It’s harder here. The girls my age are so predictable. I miss you, Rose,” she said, “but we are not too far apart—little more than a day’s journey. I do believe we’ll see each other again.”
Rose treasured the letter. She felt it was a wonderful way to begin her birthday.
Another happy surprise came when in honor of her birthday the Sweeneys put an extra dollar in the envelope with her pay.
“Buy yourself a special treat,” Mrs. Sweeney said, but Rose knew the money would go into the glass jar and help bring Ma, Bridget, and Meggie to the United States even sooner. What did she want most for her birthday? She wanted her mother. She wanted the Carneys to be a united family again.
As usual, Rose was the first one home. As she bustled into the kitchen, tying an apron over her clothes, she discovered a note from her father lying on the kitchen table.
Dear Daughter Rose, There’s a special surprise in the ice box, he’d written. It’s a taste of home.
As a postscript he’d scrawled, I’ll be out for a short while but back in time for dinner. Peter John Carney.
Rose opened the door of the ice chest and pulled out a large paper-wrapped package. Carefully she unwrapped it and found a beautiful golden-pink salmon—a whole smoked salmon!
Her mind flooded with memories of the delicate smell and taste of the salmon they often caught in the lakes at home, but a sudden thought sobered her. Here in Chicago this salmon must have cost a fortune. Where had her father come up with this much money?
Rose slowly laid the note on the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down to think. Something was all wrong. If her father had been here in time to bring the salmon, then go out for a short while—as he’d put it—clearly he’d not worked a full day. Had he been laid off again?
Ellis Island: Three Novels Page 21
