Gussie was probably right, but I didn’t care if the company was cheatin’ us on space. I liked workin’ close to my friends so we could glance up and smile at each other every now and then. It felt cozy to me, not cramped. I wished I could get Gussie to loosen up a bit. It was a terrible waste for someone so young to be so serious.
Even though I felt a little guilty, I was glad Gussie wasn’t goin’ to the nickelodeon with us. She’d probably tell us how the movie ended and spoil the whole thing.
25
Goin’ to the nickelodeon turned out to be much more than just watchin’ a movie. The show outside the theater was almost as exciting as the one within. There was a large crowd millin’ around on the sidewalk, lookin’ at the movie posters and talkin’. There were lots of girls I recognized from the Triangle, and a number of young men, too. We hadn’t been there more than three minutes before Klein was carryin’ on a conversation with two of the handsomest young men. I wondered if they were two of her beaux, findin’ out about each other for the first time. But when I asked Bellini about them, she said she’d never seen either of the men before. “It’s fine to talk to these boys,” she said, “but don’t let any of them treat you.”
“What do ye mean?”
“A boy might ask to pay your way into the theater, but then he might think that he had paid for taking certain favors with you. Klein and I always buy our own tickets. That way we’re not beholden to anybody.”
I didn’t ask what Bellini meant by “certain favors,” but I had a pretty fair idea since the incident with Moscovitz. I marveled at how Klein did just enough flirtin’ to keep both boys interested. I wondered if they were thinkin’ one of them might get to treat her. I envied Klein’s ease with boys. I was so awkward whenever I was with one, I got all tongue-tied and couldn’t keep my face from turnin’ red.
I was surprised to hear a man’s voice callin’ my name, although, with so many girls at the Triangle named Rose, he could have been callin’ anybody. I turned to see Jacob, my sewin’-machine teacher, comin’ toward me. “Rose. It’s good to see you. How have you been?”
“Fine,” I said, then fell silent, unable to think of anything else to say.
“Is the work going well for you at the Triangle?”
“Yes.” Another silence. What was the matter with me? I looked over at Klein, whose mouth hadn’t stopped movin’ since we arrived at the theater. What on earth could she think to talk about?
“So it helped you to learn the machine before you started work?” Jacob asked.
“Yes.” My mind raced to find somethin’ to say, but my panic only served to make me mute.
“I’m so glad to run into you,” Jacob said, lookin’ truly interested.
I blushed and smiled. What wonderful entertainment I turned out to be. Surely he must be fascinated with this dolt who could only come up with one-word answers to his questions.
“So—I don’t see Gussie. She did come with you, didn’t she? I mean, you’re new here. You wouldn’t have come alone.”
“Oh, no,” I managed to stammer. “I came with two of my friends from work. Rose Bellini and Rose Klein.”
Jacob’s eyes searched the crowd over my shoulder. “And Gussie? She isn’t here?”
“No. I think she said somethin’ about goin’ to the union hall.”
Jacob smiled and tipped his hat. “Ah, yes. That sounds more like Gussie than the nickelodeon. Good day, Rose. It was nice to see you again.” With that, he moved swiftly into the crowd and disappeared. So he hadn’t really cared about talkin’ to me at all. He simply wanted to see Gussie and had hoped that she was here with me.
I felt a tug at my sleeve. It was Maureen. I had forgotten she had come along with us. “I was lookin’ at the posters, Rose. Will the pictures really move?”
“I expect so. Otherwise they wouldn’t call them movin’ pictures, would they?”
“But how, Rose? How can a picture move?”
“Hush, Maureen. We’ll know when we see it. Come along. Bellini and Klein are headin’ for the ticket window.”
Maureen couldn’t stop talkin’ all the way into the darkened theater. “You’ll have to be quiet when the movie starts,” Bellini told her. “If you’re noisy, the ushers will make you leave.”
We took our places in a row near the front. Klein went in first, then Bellini, followed by me, with Maureen on the aisle. I noticed the two young men who had been talkin’ to Klein slipped into the row behind us.
The theater was hummin’ with conversation, but when the lights dimmed, there was a hush. Then there was a clackety sound and a flickerin’ light appeared on the screen forming the words The Lonedale Operator. A piano player down front by the screen started a lively tune. The letters jiggled a little on the screen, but it didn’t seem much different from my Grandma Nolan’s magic lantern when somebody bumped the table it was sittin’ on.
Then it happened. A woman’s picture appeared, but this was no magic-lantern picture. She moved—really moved. She waved her arms around, then stood up. I let out a squeal—I couldn’t help it—and started to giggle.
Bellini poked me. “Nolan, be quiet.”
I couldn’t stop laughin’. It was the most amazin’ thing I had ever seen. A man walked into the picture. He and the woman seemed to be talkin’ to each other.
Klein leaned over Bellini. “Nolan, what’s the matter with you?”
I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t even catch my breath. Now Maureen had picked up my case of giggles. Suddenly I saw a flashlight out of the corner of my eye. An usher stood at Maureen’s elbow. “You are making a disturbance,” he whispered.
This struck me funny. It was like the time back in school in Limerick when I was reprimanded by Sister Mary Michael. The madder she got, the sillier I got. It was the first time that I was sent down to Father Monahan’s office. It was also the last time, because when Ma heard what I had done I got the lickin’ of my life.
The usher reached over and touched my shoulder. “Miss, I’ll have to ask you to leave the theater.”
Klein leaned forward. “Oh, please, sir. She’s just never seen a movie before, and she’s taken with the excitement of it. She’ll be quiet.” Klein gave him her most charmin’ smile, and though it was hard to see in the dark, it seemed to have worked.
The usher just said, “Well, all right,” and left.
I pressed my fist to my lips to make sure I didn’t utter a sound.
The movie was astonishing. It took me a while to realize that the words people were speakin’ were written across the screen every few minutes. Soon I became so engrossed in the story, I hadn’t a thought of laughin’. I agonized as Mary, the telegraph operator, put herself in great jeopardy to capture a band of train robbers. When the lights went on at the end of the movie, I was breathless. Maureen unfortunately had plenty of breath left to chatter all the way home.
Mr. Garoff was sittin’ at the table when we went into the apartment. “Now you work until nine o’clock at night? Where is Gussela?”
“We weren’t workin’ all this time, sir,” I said.
Maureen slipped into the chair next to him. “We went to the nickelodeon, Mr. Garoff. It was wonderful.”
Mr. Garoff jutted out his chin. “You waste your time and money on such nonsense? My Gussela wasn’t there, was she?”
“No,” I said. “She had some business at the union hall.”
“Bad enough my daughter works on Shabbes. Then she works for the union afterward?”
“But we all have to work on Saturday, Mr. Garoff,” I said. “Gussie has no choice.”
“She has choice. Never has she worked on Shabbes before. She was always home by sundown on Friday night and didn’t go back until Monday.”
I hadn’t known that. Had Gussie’s move to the ninth floor meant she had to work an extra day?
It wasn’t long before we heard footsteps on the stairs. Gussie came through the door, shakin’ the snow from her scarf.
“You have a goo
d reason for working on Shabbes?” her father roared.
“Did you forget, Papa? I don’t make as much money now. I have to make up for the cut in pay by working the extra day.”
“Not enough that you disgrace yourself by working on Shabbes, you go work for the union after that?”
Gussie took off her coat slowly. “I’m sorry, Papa. It hurts me to offend you. But as for the union work, that was after sundown. No longer Shabbes.”
“You do not correct your father,” he bellowed. “You bring these shiksas into our home and now you act like them. Why did you not go to their foolish nickelodeon? You have become like them, no?”
I watched Maureen’s face. Just moments before, she had looked happier than I’d seen her in weeks. Now the smile had faded away, and tears were fillin’ her eyes. She started to stand up, but Gussie moved behind her, puttin’ her hands on Maureen’s shoulders. “Maureen and Rose have done nothing to deserve your anger, Papa. Their beliefs differ from ours, but they are good people.”
I couldn’t believe Gussie was standin’ up for us. I knew she didn’t approve of us goin’ to the nickelodeon. I knew she was less than fond of my friends, especially Klein. Now she was talkin’ back to her father in our defense. I learned somethin’ new about Gussie almost every day, but I couldn’t begin to understand her.
26
I finished readin’ The Heiress of Cameron Hill over the weekend. Maureen coaxed me into readin’ it aloud so she could enjoy it, too. I knew she was a bit young to be learnin’ about matters of the heart, but it kept her happy, and that made life much easier for me. Takin’ care of Maureen made me appreciate Ma more than I ever had before. She had managed to keep four children in line, not just one. Maureen and I had been gettin’ along much better since I had taken her to the nickelodeon. For the first time, I was almost glad I had let her stay with me. It was nice to have some family with me here in America. I didn’t count Uncle Patrick’s family. Wouldn’t they be surprised to find out that we had stayed in this country and were doin’ just fine.
The weather was a bit warmer Sunday mornin’, so Maureen and I took a walk after Mass to look in the shop windows and laugh at the ridiculous hats. Then we picked out the outfits we would buy if we had some money, right down to the shoes and purse. I was glad Gussie hadn’t come along. She would have complained about how these clothes were only cheap copies of the outfits the rich ladies wore, and not suitable for Women of Industry. I had as much fun with Maureen and her sense of humor as I would have had with Klein and Bellini.
We walked along laughin’ and talkin’ and eventually reached the East River. “I think that’s Brooklyn on the other side,” I said. “Some of the girls from work live over there.”
Maureen shaded her eyes from the sun. “The East River isn’t as pretty as the Shannon, d’ye think?”
“I don’t know. It’s different. Bigger and busier.”
“Well, I can’t see what good it is to have a river if ye can’t swim in it.”
I laughed. “And since when do ye go swimmin’ on the nineteenth of March?”
“Ye know what I mean,” Maureen said. “Where would ye swim here even in the middle of summer? It’s not so nice as the Fairy Steps or the Girls Sandy.”
I did know what she meant. There were three swimmin’ places on the Shannon just up from Thomond Bridge. The Fairy Steps were for the little children and their mothers, with small steps carved into the bank makin’ it easy to get to the water. Girls Sandy and Boys Sandy were wider coves for those of us who knew how to swim. Since none of us had proper bathin’ attire, the priests warned against swimmin’ with the opposite sex. That’s why we had the separate places.
But Boys Sandy had a swingin’ rope hangin’ from a tree limb, and Girls Sandy didn’t, because it wasn’t ladylike or some such nonsense. So, every now and then when Boys Sandy was empty, I’d have my girl chums keep watch while I jumped for that swingin’ rope.
I’d climb the bank, bend my knees, and leap out over the water, arms and legs outstretched. Then I’d grab the rope and wrap my legs around it, swingin’ a dozen times before I dropped into the water. It was the closest thing a person could get to flyin’.
The other girls were afraid to do it, except for Maureen. Even when she was much too little, she’d leap off the bank and miss the rope. I must have hauled her drippin’ out of the Shannon for five years straight before she finally got it right. Then there was no stoppin’ her.
“What are ye thinkin’ about, Rose?” Maureen’s voice brought me out of my daydream. She grinned at me. “The swingin’ rope at Boys Sandy, right?”
“Right,” I said, and tousled her hair.
When we got back to our room, I finally wrote a letter home.
19 March 1911
Dear Ma and Da,
I was going to write sooner, but things have turned out different than we expected. Please don’t be angry, but we didn’t go back to Uncle Patrick’s. I know I promised, Ma, but you know how it was to live there, so I think you’ll understand.
Don’t worry about us, because we are doing just fine. We are renting a room from a nice man and his daughter Gussie. I work with her at a wonderful place called the Triangle Waist Company. We make those fancy Gibson Girl blouses you see in the magazines. I have even learned how to use a sewing machine, can you imagine?
Yesterday we went to see the nickelodeon. I can’t wait to show you when you come back. The pictures really move. You would think the people were alive except for them being in black and white.
We’re going to Mass every Sunday and Maureen is in school. We miss you and think of you every day. Come back soon.
Love,
Rose
P.S. I hope Bridget is well and Joseph’s eyes have cleared up.
Maureen wanted to read the letter before I mailed it, which was a good thing, because I had forgotten to mention Bridget and Joseph. I had also left out Mr. Garoff’s name, but that was on purpose. After the fuss Ma made about Elsa bein’ Lutheran, I didn’t think she’d be any too pleased about us livin’ in a Jewish home.
When I went to work on Monday mornin’, Maureen headed off for school without the usual argument. My life was settlin’ down at last.
I returned the book to Klein at lunchtime, and she gave me another, The Romance of a Beautiful New York Working Girl. Bellini couldn’t wait to tell me about the movie she wanted to see the next weekend.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I mean, it was wonderful and I loved every minute of it, but I don’t think I should spend the money two weekends in a row.”
Klein gave me a section of the orange she had just peeled. “Oh, Nolan, it’s only a nickel. Give yourself a little treat. You’ve been listening to Gussie too much.”
“All right. If I don’t go, I’ll think about it all weekend. I’m afraid I’ll have to bring Maureen again, though. She’ll have a fit if I go without her.”
Thinkin’ about the nickelodeon gave me somethin’ to look forward to.
The week went by quickly. I loved bein’ with my friends, and I had met even more of the girls through Klein and Bellini. We all had a grand time at lunch. One of the male machinists called us “a beautiful bunch of Roses.” One day we counted all the girls at the Triangle named Rose. Klein made a list and came up with seventeen. And to think I had changed my given name to sound more unusual. I must have picked the most common name in America.
* * *
I was hummin’ to myself Wednesday mornin’ as I worked. It all seemed so natural now. My fingers knew how to guide the fabric through the machine without getting stabbed. My right foot knew just exactly how hard to press on the pedal to get the machine to start without lurchin’ ahead, and when to let up the pressure so it stopped stitchin’ at the exact end of the seam. A steady stream of fabric flowed out of the back of my machine and into the trough at the center of the table.
I looked around the room. Over two hundred girls sat at their machines, rockin’ gently forward and back
with the rhythm of their work. It was like bein’ part of a huge ballet, and I was every bit as graceful as the other dancers. But suddenly I saw somethin’ that made me stop my machine in the middle of a seam.
Gussie looked up. “What’s wrong?”
I pointed at a small group of young girls who had come into the room. “Look! There’s Maureen. What’s she doin’ here?”
“That man she’s with is a subcontractor,” Gussie said. “He finds girls who are willing to work for less money and sells their services to the company. Of course, he takes a cut for himself.”
I stood up, jammin’ the back of my chair into the girl behind me. “Well, if I have anything to say about it, she’s goin’ to get herself back in school in a hurry.” I nearly tripped over my wicker basket in my haste to get to Maureen.
As I squeezed behind Gussie, she turned and caught my arm. “Leave her alone, Rose. Don’t make a scene.”
“Oh, I see, Miss Queen of the Union, it’s fine for you to go flappin’ yer mouth about how workers get cheated by the bosses, but I can’t stop my own sister from bein’ a fool?”
Gussie kept her grip on my arm and stood so she could speak quietly into my ear over the noise of the machines. “Of course you’ll make her quit and go back to school, but do it tonight, not now. You know how headstrong Maureen is. Do you really want to drag her out of here kicking and screaming and give up a day’s wages to get her to school? And do you think your job would be waiting for you when you got back?”
I saw Mary Leventhal lookin’ at me from across the room. Gussie was right. I’d make a scene and be fired for sure. But when I got my hands on that little brat back home, I was goin’ to wring her neck. And I vowed right that very minute never to have any children—ever! A mother needed the patience of a saint, and I’d never seen sainthood in my future.
Ashes of Roses Page 14
