Just Call Me Joe

by Frieda Wishinsky

  Joseph didn’t understand the boy’s words, but from the boy’s tone and sneer, Joseph knew he wasn’t apologizing.

  “Watch where you throw,” said Joseph, throwing the boy back his ball.

  “Watch where you sit, greenie,” the boy snarled back, this time in Yiddish.

  For a minute both boys stared at each other. Then Joseph’s face broke out into a smile. “I am a greenie now,” he told the boy, “but soon I’ll be a regular American. I catch on to things fast.”

  Maybe it was the confidence in Joseph’s’ voice, or the sparkle in his green eyes or his playful smile that Mama said could melt ice. Whatever it was, the tall, thin boy smiled back at Joseph.

  “My name is Sam,” he said. “What’s yours?”

  “Joseph.”

  “Come on. Play catch with us, Joseph. And by the way, this is Al and Lou.”

  Joe smiled at Sam’s friends. Al was shorter than Sam with wavy brown bangs that half-covered his eyes while Lou’s straight brown hair hung limply down his ears.

  Al and Lou nodded. For the next hour and a half, the four played together. The conversation bounced back and forth between English and Yiddish and it didn’t take long for Joseph to figure out a few words like “ball,” “catch” and “stupid.” Sam and his friends used “stupid” a lot, especially when someone missed a good throw.

  Joseph was so absorbed in the game, he didn’t even notice the sun set.

  “Joseph!” a voice suddenly shrieked from upstairs. Joseph looked up.

  Aunt Sophie was standing on the fire escape wearing an apron and waving a large wooden spoon. “Supper is ready,” she called. “Come up and wash.”

  “I have to go,” said Joseph.

  “Meet us at the corner tomorrow at ten,” said Sam.

  “I can’t,” said Joseph. “I have to go to school.”

  “School? School is for babies,” said Sam. “I don’t go any more. Not since last year when I was twelve. We have better things to do with our time. Right boys?”

  “Right,” said Al and Lou, winking at each other.

  “Joseph!” called Aunt Sophie again.

  “I have to go now,” said Joseph, and with a wave to his new friends, he ran up the stairs, two at a time.

  Chapter Five

  Watch Me

  “So how was baby school today?” Sam teased Joseph.

  Sam teased Joseph about school every day and every day Joseph said, “Ah. Let’s not talk about it. Let’s play catch.”

  And for a few hours, before Aunt Sophie called Joseph for supper, the boys played ball. As they played, Joseph listened to the escapades of the older three. Most of the time, Sam talked. Joseph could tell that Sam was the leader and Al and Lou went along with his plans and ideas.

  Sam told how they walked around streets where Irish, Chinese, Rumanians, Hungarians, even Gypsies lived. He talked about fishing in the east river and climbing rocks in Central Park. He described the subway, the new way to travel by underground train, faster than a bird through air.

  It sounded like such fun to Joseph, more fun, for sure, than sitting in school with a bunch of first graders learning the alphabet.

  “Who’s that new man in your building?” Sam asked Joseph. “He looks mean.”

  “That’s Mr. Plucknik and he is mean,” said Joseph. “He’s the new boarder and I have to share a room with him. Anna has moved into Aunt Sophie’s room.”

  “Plucknik?” said Sam. “Plucknik. Clucknick. Like a chicken?”

  “I wish he was a chicken,” said Joseph. “A chicken wouldn’t snore like thunder in my ear every night. A chicken wouldn’t bark at me like a dog.”

  “Does your aunt like Mr. Plucknik?” asked Al.

  “Aunt Sophie says it doesn’t matter if she likes him or not. He pays on time and with two more mouths to feed, you can’t be so choosy. Anna is making some money at the shirtwaist factory but it’s not much. She’s a beginner and they don’t pay beginners much. I wish I had enough money to pay for a room just for Anna and me. At least Anna doesn’t snore.”

  “Hey, Joseph,” said Sam suddenly, “are you hungry?”

  “I’m starving,” said Joseph. “Since Mr. Plucknik’s come, Anna and I get smaller portions. And Mr. Plucknik eats like a horse. Sometimes I get so hungry at night, my stomach rumbles as loud as Mr. Plucknik’s snores.”

  “Come on then. Follow me,” said Sam.

  “Where?” asked Joseph.

  “You’ll see,” said Sam, with a wink.

  Joseph followed the boys down Rivington Street to Delancey. Delancey was a sea of pushcarts filled with everything from garlicky pickles to a strange yellow fruit Joseph had never seen before.

  ‘What’s that?” he asked pointing to the long skinny fruit.

  “Want a taste?” asked Sam.

  “Is it good?” asked Joseph.

  “It’s like sunshine and sugar all rolled into one,” said Sam.

  “Really?” said Joseph. “But I have no money to buy it.”

  “You don’t need money. Watch me,” said Sam. And before Joseph knew it, Sam snatched the yellow fruit from under the pushcart owner’s eyes.

  “Go,” Sam whispered under his breath to the boys.

  Before the pushcart owner noticed, the four boys ran down the street. They ran all the way to Essex Street and then flopped down on a stoop.

  “Here kid,” said Sam, holding the fruit out for Joseph. “Eat and enjoy.”

  Joseph stared at the fruit. He wanted to taste it, but how could he eat stolen food?

  “Come on kid, Are you gonna be a real American or not?” said Sam, sensing Joseph’s discomfort. “Sometimes you have to take the things you want in this city. Right, boys?”

  “Right,” said Al and Lou.

  The fruit was so tempting and Joseph was so hungry. He only had a roll all day with half a glass of milk. Surely one taste of this fruit wouldn’t be a sin.

  “Maybe just this once,” said Joseph. “It smells so good.”

  “It’s called a banana,” said Lou. Joseph was surprised to hear Lou speak up. Lou rarely spoke. He just looked at you with his big sad brown eyes. Sam said Lou’s mother had died of diphtheria last month and he was taking it hard.

  Joseph bit into the soft flesh of the banana. For a minute, he said nothing. He just chewed and swallowed, savoring every bite. “This is best thing I have tasted in my whole life,” he said.

  “I told you it was good,” said Sam.

  As Joseph munched the last piece of banana, he looked up. The sun was beginning to set. “I have to get home. Aunt Sophie will yell if I’m late.”

  All the way home, Joseph could smell the delicious banana on his fingers. But on Rivington Street, he passed a pushcart owner hunched wearily over a pile of shirts and pants and he thought about Papa. He knew what Papa would say. “It is wrong to steal Joseph, no matter what.”

  Chapter Six

  Grade One

  The second month at school was no better than the first. Joseph sat on the hard wooden bench in class trying to learn the sounds of the English letters. He was determined to learn quickly but English had such tricky sounds. Sometimes they refused to slide out of his mouth.

  Worse than that, he had to sit in class with babies. Joseph was like a giant towering over the other first graders.

  At recess he stood in a corner of the yard against the brick wall. He yearned to join the older boys in their stickball game but he couldn’t approach them. What if they laughed and called him a baby or a greenie?

  Joseph watched one group of boys toss a new boy’s cap in the air, throwing it back and forth like a ball, as the new boy begged them to stop. They called him a stupid, know-nothing greenie till the boy burst into tears. A teacher led the sobbing boy inside as his tormentors snickered behind his back.

  There was no way Joseph would let any of those boys make him cry. There was no way he wanted a teacher to lead him away as the kids laughed behind his back. It was better not to be noticed. I
t was better to learn English like an American and then ask to join the game.

  After recess Joseph trudged back to class. As soon as he sat down, Miss Williams approached him. She looked at the letters he’d carefully written in his notebook earlier and smiled.

  “Well done, Joseph. I wish all my students learned as quickly as you. Perhaps you could help Avram with his letters? He has so much trouble, especially with G and R.”

  What could Joseph say? “Sure,” he mumbled, looking over at Avram, one of the youngest and smallest of the boys in the class.

  For the next two weeks, Joseph helped Avram every day. Avram was so happy, he followed Joseph outside every recess and stood beside him at the brick wall. Joseph wished he’d go away. What would the older boys think if they saw him hanging around with a first grade baby every day?

  “Go play with your friends,” Joseph told Avram, pointing to the grade one boys chasing each other around the yard.

  “But you’re my friend,” said Avram, looking up at Joseph adoringly with his large almond-colored eyes. “You help me.”

  “I help you but I don’t want to play with you. I’m too old to play with you.”

  But Avram smiled as if he hadn’t heard a word and didn’t budge from Joseph’s side.

  Joseph sighed. At least he wasn’t stuck with babies after school. At least he had Sam, Al and Lou to play with every afternoon. By now, Joseph understood almost everything they were saying in English and he spoke a mixture of English and Yiddish back to them.

  A week passed and Avram continued to glue himself to Joseph at recess. Joseph hated it more each day. Avram just stood there, not saying much, just looking up at Joseph as if Joseph was a King and Avram was his faithful servant. Joseph decided he had to tell Avram, clearly and firmly to get lost on Monday.

  But on Monday before Joseph could say anything, Avram raced over to Joseph with a package wrapped in dayold newspaper. “For you,” he said.

  “What’s this?” asked Joseph.

  “A surprise,” said Avram beaming.

  Joseph unwrapped the package. Inside were a small cake, two apples and a banana.

  “My mama sent it to thank you for teaching me,” said Avram. “She is proud of how I make my G’s and R’s now. See.”

  Avram wrote G and R in his notebook and held them up for Joseph to inspect. Joseph couldn’t help smiling. They did look better now. They looked almost like the letters Miss Williams drew on the blackboard.

  “Avram’s really improved, thanks to you,” said Miss Williams, walking over. “And your English has improved at the same time. You’re speaking better every day, Joseph.”

  It was true. Joseph was feeling more confident each day and those strange English words were starting to roll off his tongue with ease.

  “Do you like the cake?” asked Avram at recess.

  “I didn’t taste it yet,” said Joseph.

  “Taste it,” implored Avram.

  Joseph took a bite. “It’s good. Here have some.” Then he broke off a chunk for Avram.

  “Mmm” said Avram. “My mother makes the best cakes in the world, but she only makes them when she has enough money for butter and sugar Sometimes she doesn’t have enough money.”

  Joseph sighed. How could he tell Avram to scram now?

  Joseph stared longingly as the older boys played ball. Soon, he told himself. Soon, I’ll ask to play too.

  After all, he was learning new words every day like “pushcart,” “hurry up,” “fire,” “sidewalk,” “bicycle,” “walk,” “rat,” “dog” and “stink.” The words piled up in his head. When he needed them, he pulled them out like rabbits from a magician’s hat.

  Even Aunt Sophie noticed how much Joseph was improving.

  “Maybe you’ll get a job after school now and help me out with expenses,” she suggested.

  A job? Joseph hadn’t thought about a job. He’d seen boys his age deliver newspapers or carry shirtwaists from factories to stores. But how could he find a job?

  “What do you think, Sam?” he asked. But instead of an answer, Sam burst into laughter.

  “What’s so funny?’ asked Joseph.

  “You’re still such a greenie. Who’d hire you? They’ll laugh in your face,” said Sam.

  “No. They won’t,” protested Joseph, but he wasn’t sure. What if Sam was right?

  Chapter Seven

  Joe not Joseph

  Two cold winter months passed. Joseph shivered in his thin coat as he walked to school each day. And each day he thought about asking the boys his age if he could play with them at recess. But with Avram glued to his side, it was hard to approach the older boys.

  Then on a Monday, early in January of the new year, 1910, Avram was home sick.

  Today I will ask to join the game, Joseph decided as he wrote in his notebook. My English is surely good enough now.

  So as soon as recess began, Joseph approached a group of four boys. “I would like to play too,” he said smiling. But the boys weren’t impressed with Joseph’s words or smiles. They ignored him.

  “I would like to join your game,” Joseph repeated louder.

  “Aren’t you in grade one?” sneered one of the boys.

  “Yes,” said Joseph. “But before he could explain that it was only for a little while, the sneering boy said, “Then you must be stupid.”

  “I’m not stupid,” Joseph protested. “I am only in grade one till I learn a little more English.”

  “Well you talk English good enough for me,” said another one of the group. “I think you’re in grade one because you’re stupid.”

  “Yes, stupid,” all four boys chanted. “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!”

  Joseph face turned red as a cooked beet. He wished he hadn’t approached those boys. He wished he’d just stayed in his safe corner where no one bothered him.

  Joseph walked to the otherend of the yard, far away from the group of chanting, sneering boys. But he couldn’t escape the sound of their laughter ringing in his ears.

  There was no way he would approach them again while he was stuck in grade one. But how long would that be? What if he was left in grade one for the rest of the year? There was a boy in another class who had stayed in grade one for two years and he was already eleven.

  At least I have Sam, Al and Lou to play with, thought Joseph. They like me and they’re not babies. They’re even older than those boys in the yard and they know everything about America.

  Joseph played with them every day, even when it snowed. But on snowy days, instead of catch, they tossed snowballs at each other, at brick tenement walls, or at passing carriages.

  “Hey, Joseph,” said Sam later that afternoon. “Joseph is a name for a greenie. A real American needs an American name. Call yourself Joe instead.”

  “Joe!” said Joseph, trying the name on like a pair of new pants. “I like that. It sounds like a real American. From today on, just call me Joe!”

  “Good,” said Sam.

  “So where are Lou and Al?” asked Joe.

  “Lou’s father is making him work at the hat factory where his father works. His father says he’ll throw him out on the street unless he works,” explained Sam. “And Al is sick with fever. But let’s not think about them now. Let’s have an adventure. Skip that baby school tomorrow and we’ll take the subway uptown.”

  It wasn’t the first time Sam had suggested Joe skip school but it was the first time he’d offered Joe such an exciting adventure. The subway! Uptown! Sam had told Joe all about it. The subway was like a whole city underground, Sam explained.

  And Uptown was where the rich lived in beautiful mansions with many servants. How could he resist the chance to go, especially after the awful time he had at recess. How could he resist after spending another miserable night with Mr. Plucknik?

  Aside from Mr. Plucknik’s snoring and barking, Mr. Plucknik was a pig. He left dirty clothes all over the tiny room he shared with Joe and regularly dumped his smelly shirts and socks on Joe’s c
ot. Joe hated it. He could smell Mr. Plucknik’s stinky socks and shirts even in his dreams.

  “Aunt Sophie,” Joe begged. “Could I please move in with you and Anna? I hate Mr. Plucknik.”

  “There’s barely room for Anna in my room,” said Aunt Sophie impatiently. “What do you think? I like Mr. Plucknik? But he pays and that’s good enough for me.”

  Sometimes Aunt Sophie sounded so angry, especially when she talked about money. Joseph often saw her count out coins late at night from a tin can she kept hidden in her room. Joe knew he and Anna were an extra burden to her. He knew Aunt Sophie worried constantly that she wouldn’t have enough money to feed and clothe them. If only she didn’t bark so much. It made him feel like she was sorry they came.

  But when she suddenly hugged him or baked her special honey cake with raisins just because he liked it, Joe knew she was glad they came. Or when he overheard her tell Mrs. Klein from the first floor about her lovely Anna who was “so sweet and talented with a needle” and her clever Joseph, “smart as a scholar,” then he was sure she wanted them there.

  If only Mr. Plucknik would be captured by a band of Gypsies or move to Philadelphia where his sister lived. Then things would be much better. But Joe was sure that Mr. Plucknik was so irritating that not even his sister or the Gypsies would want him.

  Still, even with Aunt Sophie’s barking, and being stuck with grade one babies day after day and and even sharing a room with stinky Plucknik, there was no way Joe wanted to go back to Russia.

  You couldn’t travel freely in Russia as a Jew. You couldn’t explore what lay beyond your shtetl. But in America, you could go anywhere without being questioned or stopped. And in America, soldiers didn’t threaten to kill you in the woods or burn your house down.

  Anna didn’t feel the way he did. She hated New York. In Russia, she used to tell him funny stories about hairy creatures who lived in trees and she always sang around the house as she helped Mama cook and clean.

  But all that changed since they arrived in New York. Anna had no more time for stories or songs. Hereyes were often filled with tears.