After the fight on Tuesday night, Jacob stood wiping his face on a towel. His body ached from the blows he’d received. Tonight he’d come up against a big bruiser, not as fast as Jacob, but when he connected a body blow, Jacob had been staggered. Jacob had almost met his match in this one.
With a broad grin, Patrick hoisted himself onto the table. “Well, me boy, you showed that crowd what real pugilistic ability looked like. Your footwork was beautiful, and the way you kept your distance, waitin’ for the openin’—why, when you landed that blow, I swear by the saints it could have been heard in Brooklyn. You’re gonna be—”
“I want more money,” Jacob said as he buttoned his pants.
The smile froze on O’Leary’s face. Why the dirty, money-hungry Kike. No wonder Jesus chased them out of the temple. Taking out his handkerchief, Patrick wiped the sweat from his brow. Slow down, O’Leary, don’t want to lose the big bucko Jew pigeon. The smile returned. “So, it’s more money you’re wanting, is it?”
“Yes.” Jacob nodded as he slipped into his jacket.
“And how much more would you be wantin’?”
“Ten dollars.”
Patrick slapped the side of his thigh and let out a booming laugh. “Well, now, it’s one thing to be wantin’, but where in the saints are you goin’ to be gettin’ it from?”
“From you.”
“From me, is it now?”
“That’s what I said, from you.”
Jacob’s American schooling on the docks had been illuminating. He had learned to recognize the guises of prejudice, which existed even in this so-called land of opportunity, and he had consequently become wary of anyone who offered something as an “opportunity.” These bitter lessons had been completed with the discovery that O’Leary was cheating him, that O’Leary was getting twelve dollars, not ten. Jacob spilled his guts and got only five, and that Irish Jew-hater wound up with seven.
Jacob came closer and looked down at Patrick. Patrick knew this was one Jew he would never have any sport with. He remembered the time he and his cohorts had cornered a young Jewish dockworker and ripped off his pants so they could see his smooth shiny penis, minus the foreskin the Lord had provided. The young boy had never returned. But Jacob would, and with a vengeance.
Patrick got off the table. “Now, Jackie, me boy, you’ve got to be sensible. How in the name of heaven can I give you ten dollars?”
“You’ll have to ask heaven. That’s what I want or I don’t fight.”
“You’re going daft, me boy. Now, Jackie, I’m your manager and I’m entitled to—”
“Not when I get five and you take seven. Not for the kind of punishment I take.”
Patrick knew he had been found out, and became conciliatory. “All right, Jackie, tell ya what I’m going to pro—”
“My name is Jacob, and I want ten or I don’t fight.”
“Eight.”
Jacob still needed the Irish bastard, he still had plenty to learn. “For the next two fights only. I’m beginning to fill up the house. You say you’re my manager? Okay, then get fifteen dollars a fight.”
“You’re a plucky lad.” Patrick shook his head and laughed. “That I’ll be giving you. I’m not quite sure how Hallihan’s gonna go for it—”
“With your Irish mouth, you’ll talk him into it.” Jacob turned and slammed the door behind him.
Patrick smiled, scratched his head. Damned if he didn’t admire the cocky bastard. Pity he wasn’t an Irishman.
CHAPTER NINE
JACOB, HOT AND SWEATY after a hard day’s work, came through the front of the store and walked past the customers. Going to the back, he saw his mother ladling out four plates of cold borscht. “It looks like business is good today, mama,” he said, kissing her on the cheek.
“Very good. You smell terrible. Go get washed and come eat. Oh, Jacob, you got a letter from Lotte.”
Quickly he went to his room, where Shlomo was studying.
“Well, Shlomo, how’s the schoolwork going?” Jacob asked, taking the bailing hook out of his back pocket.
“Fine, I got a good report,” he said, handing it to Jacob.
Jacob smiled and said, “I’ll bet you’re the smartest boy in the class.”
“Well, not the smartest.”
“Who’s smarter?”
“Oh, they got a lot of smart guys in class.”
“Who? Name me seven.” They laughed.
“You got a letter from Lotte. Bet you’re happy.”
Jacob nodded as he sat on the edge of the bed and tore open the envelope. His expression changed as he took out the letter. It was so short.
Dear Jacob,
I received your letter. I hope you will forgive me for not answering sooner, but I have been very busy. I got a job working for a dressmaker, and I enjoy the work so much.
Bubeleh has not been well and my mother has gone to see her. I wish I could have gone too, but I can’t leave my job and I have to take care of my father. My sister helps, but she goes to school. Besides, I’m the oldest so it’s only right I should take the responsibility when my mother is gone.
I hope you are well and your family is fine. I guess your nephew is getting to be a big boy. I hope your job is good and that you are happy. Everyone sends their love. There really isn’t anything else to say.
Love,
Lotte
Jacob sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at the letter. In his mind, he reviewed the previous letters. Dearest, dearest Jacob, they began. Or, My dearest Jacob. I dream about you all the time. Darling Jacob, I cry myself to sleep. You are always in my thoughts and I count the months, the days, till we will be together…
Those had been the early letters, and they had brought Jacob so much joy. But the more recent letters had seemed less amorous, and increasingly formal, and today’s letter left him altogether bewildered, let down. It seemed so impersonal.
Shlomo looked at Jacob’s face. He got up and sat alongside his brother.
“Jacob,” he said softly, “are you sad?”
The little boy’s voice startled him. His eyes left the letter and looked at the boy’s sensitive face. As though trying to sort out the pieces, he answered, “Yes, Shlomo. I think that’s what I feel.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Is it something Lotte said?”
“It’s more what she didn’t say.”
Shlomo took the letter and read it. Handing it back to Jacob, he said, “It’s because she didn’t say she missed you. Maybe that’s why.”
Jacob shook his head slowly. “Yes. I have a funny feeling, that maybe she doesn’t…”
“Jacob, she loves you, but she’s very busy and working so hard. Maybe she doesn’t have the time to…”
Jacob was only half-listening to Shlomo. They’d been separated now for nearly a year, and in that time Lotte had poured out her love over and over again. Being separated, how much could one continue to say? She had a great many responsibilities, and working as hard as she was left her with little time to write love letters. Besides, he thought guiltily, he had never really told her the truth. He had told her that life in America was wonderful, that his family was wonderful. But he had never told her of the ordeals he had suffered when he first arrived, or that he resorted to brutality in order to save enough money. He never told her how worried he was about his future, about being able to provide a good living, a nice home.
Jacob reread the letter. Suddenly the letter seemed quite sensible, mature. There was no reason to repeat the sentiments that had been expressed over and over again for the last year. Perhaps he was only telling himself the things he wanted to believe, Jacob thought, but suddenly he felt better, much better. He smiled at Shlomo, put his arm around him. “You are the smartest boy in the class. Not only that, but you’re a lot smarter than I am. Now, let’s wash up and have supper.” …
After serving her sons, Esther sat across from them, watching Jacob as he ate. He was go
ing to be sixteen years old next week, but he looked twenty. He also looked very tired. He worked all day, unloading those heavy crates, and every night he went to school. But what worried Esther most was why he stayed out so late. He rarely came home before eleven.
“Jacob, I want you to stop going to school every night. A doctor you’re not going to be. You already speak very good English.”
He continued to eat, without looking up at her, but suddenly the food would hardly go down.
“Jacob, I’m talking to you.”
“I heard,” he mumbled.
“Listen, Jacob, you can’t do so much. A person also needs to rest.”
“I rest, I rest.”
“Don’t be stubborn with me, Jacob. This may be America, but I’m still your mother.”
“I’m sorry, and I’m not being stubborn. I just want to learn.” He listened to the lie and despised himself for it.
“I admire you for that, but it’s too hard to work all day and then go to school every night. It’s too hard.” Esther took a sip of her tea and peered over the rim at him before she continued. “And as long as I’m talking already, why do you come home so late? School is over at nine o’clock.”
“I go with some boys I met,” he answered quickly, swallowing hard.
“Till eleven o’clock every night?”
“I need a little change. I can’t just work and go to school, mama. A person has to have a little fun.”
She didn’t like the way he said fun. Was he going to bad houses? No, not Jacob, he would never do anything like that. He would be pure when he went to his marriage bed. She was certain. Dismissing the thought completely, she said, “All right, but you shouldn’t come home so late.”
“Listen, mama, I don’t want to be disrespectful, but I am not a child.”
“You’re my child no matter how old you are. Besides, what do you do till eleven o’clock?”
Jacob was getting nervous. The conversation becoming more complicated, the deception damned difficult. “I go to school, and then I go out with a few fellows I met to see a picture, have a cup of coffee, play cards, whatever. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Jacob got up quickly, kissed his mother on the cheek and said good-by to Shlomo.
As he opened the door, Esther called out to him, “I want you home early.”
He looked back at her. “I’ll be home when I’ll be home. Don’t worry, I’ll get enough rest.”
Esther sat shaking her head. Was it good, this new country? It wasn’t really good for Jews anywhere, but at least in Europe there was a quality of family life and respect that was soon lost in America…
When Jacob looked back, he could scarcely believe that it was a year ago, almost to the day, that he had arrived in America. He dismissed the welcome he had had on his arrival as his mind moved quickly to how much he had accomplished. True, he had done things he was not proud of, but pride would not have given him what he needed so desperately. With the money he had saved, he could now bring Lotte over, and at long last he no longer need live with the guilt and stress of his deception. Thank God, for being so good to him. He had five hundred dollars now, and at last he could stop fighting. Last night was indeed the last time he was going to take the body blows, which had been more painful than he had let on. The greatest pleasure was yet to come. In the morning, he would tell O’Leary.
At supper that night he said, smiling, to his mother, “You’ll be happy to know I quit school, mama.”
“You did?” She smiled back weakly. Poor Jacob, he wanted the education so badly.
“Yes, and I won’t be out late anymore. Also I want to tell you I lied. I don’t have any friends. I got a job at night, working overtime, to save enough money to send for Lotte.” Beaming, he continued, “I never thought the day would come. She means so much to me. I know you’ll love her, she’ll be like a daughter.”
“If you love her, then so will I. If anyone deserves some happiness, it’s you, my dear Jacob.”
“Deserve, I don’t know about, but I was blessed the day I met her.”
“You deserve,” Esther assured him.
When he went to his room, he found Shlomo doing his homework as usual.
Jacob looked over at Shlomo and smiled as he sat down to write to Lotte, scarcely able to contain his deep joy at the thought that soon she would be with him. The loneliness of the past would soon be over.
The next morning found the streets blanketed with snow. Jacob put on his heavy new coat—his one extravagance—and hurried out to buy the greatest luxury he could imagine he would ever possess. A ticket for Lotte. His heart pounded when he looked at the ticket. She would travel in style. She was going second class, not steerage like cattle, not Lotte. The thirty dollars extra was worth it. He put the ticket into the addressed envelope, sealed and posted it…
Breathlessly, he walked into the warehouse and signed in. He was a little late this morning, but it was the first time. Besides, this was a very special day.
He had just started to work when Patrick O’Leary saw him. “Well, now, don’t we look handsome this morning, all bundled up like a teddy bear in that lovely new coat. By the saints, if you don’t look like a captain in the merchant marine. Couldn’t have bought that on the pittance you earn here, now could you, Jackie?”
Jacob knew the Irishman was seething under the friendly facade. He was more than seething, and had been since the night Jacob had demanded the ten dollars a fight. He’d seen the venom in the Irish eyes but he didn’t give a damn. Besides, the bastard had made his demands to Hallihan. Seventeen dollars, he said, or we go. Plenty of places for Jackie Sanders to fight. Seventeen dollars. He got it.
Jacob took the bailing hook and brutally stabbed into a bail of cotton. When he looked up, it was into the face of O’Leary.
“You’re making quite a name for yourself, champ, and lifting those bails helped to build the muscles.”
Jacob ignored him. As he climbed up to attack another bail, he said, “I’m not going to fight anymore.”
O’Leary froze, narrowed his eyes. So it was a little more extortion was it? But he’d play along with the Christ-killer. As O’Leary shifted a huge crate into place he said, “Now, what’s this I’m hearing. Not going to fight anymore? Why Jack…Jacob…you got a big future ahead of you. You’re not going to be a dockworker all your life? That’s not for the likes of you, me boy. Why, I got plans for us. Fact is, tonight there’s going to be a big promoter watching you. Convinced him to take a look. That’s the kind of talent I think you’ve got. Like I said from the very beginning, you’re gonna be a champ—”
“I’m not going to be there tonight, or any other night.”
“Now, Jacob, that’s what I call a little deceitful. Especially for an upstanding young Jewish lad with integrity. Why, your Bible teaches you about loving your neighbors and righteousness. That’s what you’ve been taught, to respect your elders and not betray a friend.”
Jacob turned away.
“Now, Jacob, I would suggest you be fightin’ tonight. I went to a lot of trouble to get this.”
“I told you, I’m through fighting,” he said, looking Patrick in the eye now.
“Why didn’t you tell me Tuesday?” Patrick asked, his fists in his pockets and his jaw clenched.
“Because I made up my mind last night.”
“I see, just like that.”
“Just like that.”
O’Leary ran his tongue around his dry lips, then smiled. “Well, me boy, I think you’re going to live to regret this. There are damn few people get the kind of golden opportunity I’m handing you. You could be as big as the likes of Sullivan. Don’t be throwin’ it away so lightly. Think on it. I’m a patient man. You give me the answer by quittin’ time.”
“I don’t need any time, the answer is no.” Jacob turned and hoisted himself up to the last row of cotton and began to maneuver it down.
When the noon bell rang Jacob sat on a crate inside the warehouse. Although the day was
bitterly cold, he unbuttoned his heavy jacket, took off the leather gloves and put them into his slashed pockets. He had worked up a good sweat this morning from the freight he had loaded, but he had never felt happier. O’Leary was out of his life and Lotte was coming back into it. With the thoughts of what the future held he unscrewed the top of the thermos and began pouring out the yellow chicken soup, thick with noodles, large chunks of chicken, carrots and celery. He smiled, hearing the echo of his mother’s voice ringing in his ears. “I want you should eat a hot meal, and I want you should eat it all. Not a drop you should leave.” It was a quart. Contentedly, he started to eat when he saw O’Leary and three of the biggest men on the dock come toward him. Well, it seemed he wasn’t through with O’Leary just yet…quickly he jumped off the crate, grabbed the bailing hook from his back pocket and waited.
“So, you’re goin’ to quit the ring, are you now? Well, the boys and me want to give you a little farewell party.” With that, he nodded at the three men and they lunged at Jacob. One grabbed and twisted his wrist until the hook dropped to the ground.
O’Leary said, “Okay, drag him to the corner. We wouldn’t be wantin’ anyone else to enjoy this.”
Jacob heard the Irishman saying above his screams, “Here, let me stick a rag in his mouth, the lousy bastard. No one’s goin’ to outsmart O’Leary.”
Jacob was beaten until the blood came from his mouth. His cries of pain were muffled as they savagely pounded away at his body, his head, his face. His left eye was completely swollen shut and he could hardly see out of the right one. The last thing he remembered was the voice of O’Leary… “All right, boys, take the bastard’s pants off. I want to see the size of the Jew. Saints above! If it don’t look like a stud.” O’Leary bent over Jacob. “Well, now this time, Jackie, how would you like to feel the crunch of them big balls? I’ve almost have a mind to do it.” Jacob could scarcely hear; everything was slipping away…
Jacob lay unconscious. O’Leary was kicking him in the ribs. “Okay, boys, let’s get the hell away from here.”
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