“Martin, we expected you a couple of weeks ago. What happened that you did not arrive on time?”
“Oh, it’s a long story. First, I was short changed by the clerk at Ellis Island and needed to make more money to afford the train. A man got me a job at the Fulton Fish Market.”
“Fulton Fish Market. I’ve heard of it. It is a big operation and they process lots of fish.”
“Yes, I have never seen so many fish in one place in my life, except maybe for a school of sardines in the Adriatic. Anyway, I finally had the money to travel third class by train but those cars take much longer than the first and second coaches. But at last I made it.”
“Now”—Uncle Anton became serious—“you have come here to work and earn money so you can prosper and help your family back home, especially my poor sister Marija, oh how I miss her. But now back to the job. You will come here every day with me and not leave until I do. If you want to learn how to run a restaurant and be a chef, you have to start at the bottom—washing dishes. That will allow you to be in the kitchen to observe what everyone is doing and basically learn how a restaurant operation works. Does that sound good to you?”
“Yes, Uncle, I would like to learn everything you know about cooking and running a business. I want to have my own restaurant one day.”
“That’s the American way, Martin, start your own business, be your own boss, get rich in the process. And one more thing. You will start English lessons right away. You have to know the language to get ahead.”
Martin was having trouble keeping his eyes open and let out a big yawn. Uncle Anton and Vlad looked at each other and nodded. “Martin, I can see you’re very tired and know you have been through quite an ordeal. Vlad will take you home where your Aunt Mirna will make you comfortable. She already has a room waiting for you.”
Chapter 5
Martin grabbed his suitcase and followed Vlad out of the restaurant. At that moment, he heard a clanking like some sort of bell and the sound of metal on metal. Vlad put out his arm to hold Martin back while a vehicle passed by with a swish of wind. “What is that monstrosity?” Martin asked.
“It’s called a cable car. They’re a great way to get up and down the hills of San Francisco if you can afford the fare. They’ve been around the city as long as I can remember.”
“Everything is so new to me here. We have nothing like it in Dubrovnik. People either walk or ride in carts pulled by animals.”
“You’ll also see some rich people driving themselves in automobiles. They’re the latest invention.”
“First, there’s a train that goes all across the country, then there’s cable cars traveling up and down hills, and now you’re telling me there are motorized carts that people drive themselves. This country is amazing.”
“That’s true. People are always inventing something new to make our lives better. But unfortunately, not all of us can afford the new gadgets. Anyway, we have arrived home. Follow me up the steps.”
Martin stood for a moment on the sidewalk, looking up at the townhouse in front of him. It was a narrow building with a bay window and an elegant oak door with a brass knocker in the shape of an anchor.
“Come on,” Vlad called. “What are you waiting for?” Martin climbed up the steep steps entering into a hall with a high ceiling and crystal chandelier. As soon as she heard their voices, Aunt Mirna appeared to welcome Martin to their home, kissing him on both cheeks in the European-style. Aunt Mirna was full of zest. She had a round body, dark eyes, and black hair streaked with gray, worn in a bun.
“I have tea and cookies for you in the kitchen. Then I will show you to your room where you can rest until dinner.”
Martin set down his suitcase in the hallway and followed Aunt Mirna into the kitchen. It was modern compared to his mother’s with a tile floor, wooden cabinets, and a large black stove. In the middle, a table covered with a floral oil cloth was already set for tea. Aunt Mirna asked Martin to take a seat while she poured tea and set out the cookies—kolache filled with apricot jam.
Vlad took his leave to head back to the restaurant. Then Aunt Mirna turned to Martin and asked, “How was your journey?”
“About as expected.” He did not want to go into all the problems he had encountered with his aunt.
“And how is your family? I have not seen them in many years.”
“They are fine but life is hard. Thank goodness the sea always provides.”
“Well, finish your tea and then I will take you to your room. You look like you could use a nap.”
Martin followed Aunt Mirna back into the hallway where he grabbed his suitcase and then went up the stairs. She opened the door to a small room with two twin beds. “This is my older son’s room. Marko’s away at the university now but will be home for Christmas when you will have to share the room. But until then you have it to yourself.” She then proceeded to show him where he could store his clothes and other items. But when she left, he didn’t unpack. He lay down on the bed and fell into a deep, deep sleep.
Two days later, just as Uncle Anton had said, Martin started work at the restaurant. First, he helped unload trucks filled with supplies and groceries, and then he helped put the perishables in a cool place—the icebox for items needing the coolest temperatures. Then he stood by watching his uncle and his helper prepare the food for the various dishes that would be served.
At one point, Uncle Anton tossed him a rag saying, “Go wipe down the tables, then help Vlad set them.” Martin did what he was told and in no time the restaurant was ready for customers. At 11:30 a.m., Vlad unlocked the front door, letting in customers already standing in line. Then Martin went back into the kitchen to find out what he needed to do next.
Uncle Anton handed him a couple of dishpans and told him to fill them with water adding soap to one. It wasn’t long before Vlad put in the first orders and Uncle Anton and his sous chef prepared the first dishes. Most customers ordered fish—fried sardines, fish stew, pasta with clams and, of course, seafood risotto. When the dirty dishes were brought back by Vlad, Martin was told to scrape the leftovers into the garbage and then wash, rinse, and dry each dish and piece of silverware before setting it on the rack to dry.
There was a system to dishwashing, which Martin learned quickly and his Uncle noticed with approval. Finally, the lunch hour was over and a thorough cleanup began while preparations were made for dinner. There wasn’t much of a break between the two but the staff all sat down to share a meal together and talk.
Uncle Anton was the first to speak between bites. “Martin, you learn fast. I was impressed with how efficiently you washed the dishes. You are going to be a great restaurateur one day.”
“Thank you, Uncle. I tried my best.”
“It certainly showed. Now, starting next week you will get up early and go to English class before coming to work at the restaurant. You need to learn the language if you want to go far in this country.”
Martin nodded as he thought about what his uncle had just said. There was so much to learn before he could make his own way. He only hoped he could do it.
Saturday was a big day in the restaurant. It seemed there was never an empty table from lunch through dinner. Martin washed dishes nonstop for hours until finally the closed sign was put on the door. Now to wipe down tables, sweep floors, and perform other necessary duties to get the restaurant ready for the next day. When he was done, he looked around and felt pride in the work he had done for his uncle.
When they got home, Aunt Mirna was waiting up with a tea service set on the table. Uncle Anton, Vlad, and Martin sat down, filled their cups with tea, and took a few savories and sweets, which Aunt Mirna had made. Once Uncle Anton had finished his first cup of tea he said, “Martin, tomorrow is Sunday, a day of rest, a family day. The cafe will be closed so we can enjoy some leisure time. First, we will go to church, our own Slavic church, The Nativity of Our Lord, which we Slavs funded with hard-earned donations. You just missed the dedication—such a big celebratio
n of what we can do when we work together. Then we will go to the Slavonic Mutual and Benevolent Society for a little conversation and entertainment. And then we will be home for a lovely dinner prepared by Mirna. She cooks so I can truly have a day off.”
Chapter 6
On Sunday morning, Martin woke up looking forward to the day ahead. He wanted to take a walk around the city to get himself acclimated and see the sights. Vlad was already having breakfast when he came downstairs so he mentioned his interest in taking a walking tour. “I’d be happy to show you around after church,” Vlad said. Martin beamed a wide smile at him, showing his pleasure.
When church was over, Vlad and Martin set out, telling Uncle Anton and Aunt Mirna they would see them later at the Slavonic Society. “First, I want to take you to Nob Hill where you will see how the rich people live.” They climbed the hills of California Street being passed by several trolleys along the way. Finally, they reached the top. “These are the mansions of the big four—the men who built the Central Pacific Railroad.”
The first one they came to belonged to Leland Stanford. It was a huge structure with many ornamental details and bow windows on the sides. “This is the largest single-family residence in California.” The next ones they came to were the homes of Mark Hopkins, Charles Crocker, and Collis Huntington. Martin was awestruck both by these monstrosities the millionaires called home but also by the enormous wealth they represented. Martin stood and looked at the view from the top; for some, America is paved with gold.
Then Vlad led Martin back down the hills until they came to the waterfront, the bay gleaming in the sunlight. “You will notice that many of these businesses are owned by Croatians.” Martin looked at the signs on coffee houses, restaurants, saloons, and groceries and recognized many that bore Croatian words. This was the neighborhood where the Slavonic Society was located. Upon entering, Martin immediately heard the sounds of an accordion and felt transported back home.
The room was filled with families—men having drinks while discussing politics, always a popular pastime even in Croatia, women swapping recipes and a bit of gossip, and young people filling the floor to dance the kolo, the traditional circle dance. Martin had no idea so many Croatians lived in San Francisco. Of course, some of them patronized his uncle’s restaurant but many Italians did as well as other nationalities he did not easily recognize. Vlad grabbed Martin by the arm and led him over to a group of people their age and introduced him around. Some of them shook his hands, some gave him hugs, and a few girls even kissed him on the cheeks. What a way to get a welcome. I wonder what else is in store for me in this new land.
Martin and Vlad got back to the townhouse just before dinner. “Go wash up,” Aunt Mirna said. “Katarina and her husband will soon be here and maybe Marko, too.” Martin knew about Marko but Katarina he had not yet heard about. She must be the daughter.
When Martin got back downstairs, Katarina and her husband had just arrived. Uncle Anton made the introductions. “If you had come a year earlier, you would have been invited to the big wedding party and met a lot of pretty Croatian girls.”
Katarina at twenty-two was the eldest of the Kovach’s three children. She was a pretty blonde with clear blue eyes—the color of the Adriatic Sea. Her high cheekbones, a Slavic trait, gave her a sophisticated look beyond her years and marked her as a real beauty. Her husband, Paul, had straight dark hair, chiseled features, and blue eyes with a hint of green. He was about the same height as Martin, six feet, but had a much slimmer build. He was friendly and offered his hand to Martin.
“Paul owns one of the grocery stores you passed along the waterfront,” said Uncle Anton. Martin was impressed—so young and already in business.
“Katarina and I work long hours,” said Paul, “but we are making a good living and even save money for a house we hope to buy soon.”
“I would like to visit your store one day to learn how a grocery store is run.”
“We are closed on Sunday, your only free day, but perhaps you can stop by after English class before you go to work at the restaurant if my father-in-law doesn’t mind you coming in a little later.”
“We can work it out. Now, please sit down at the table. Mirna has fixed a lovely dinner in honor of Martin’s arrival in America.”
Right on cue, Mirna brought out the first course, seafood risotto, which she had learned was a favorite of Martin’s. Just as they were finishing the course, the door opened and Marko appeared. “Hello, everyone. Sorry I’m late but I encountered difficulties getting here.”
“No apology needed,” said Mirna. “We are all glad you could join us to celebrate Martin’s safe arrival.” Then she went back into the kitchen and brought out a heaping plate of risotto for Marko. While he ate, she cleared the table.
Marko clearly had a hearty appetite, making quick work of the first course. He was blond with blue eyes and thin lips that curled up at the ends as if in a perpetual smile. He was about the same height as Vlad but had wide shoulders and a muscular build.
“Marko is going to be an engineer,” said Uncle Anton proudly. “He is studying at the university—Stanford in Palo Alto.”
Again, Martin was impressed. One cousin was a businessman. The other was studying to enter a respected profession. He wondered about Vlad. Was he learning the restaurant business or would he go on to college? He would have to wait to find out.
“The state is on the move,” said Marko, “and I want to be part of it. Roads, bridges, buildings are all going to need to be constructed. There will be more work than can last a lifetime.”
“You probably have building in your blood,” said Martin. “If you had ever seen old town Dubrovnik, you would realize what an engineering marvel it is. No matter how many enemies have tried to destroy it, the walls still stand protecting the city.”
“I’d like to see it sometime. It’s important to study well-built structures to learn the secrets of their construction.”
“Yes, and did you know that when they built the fortress in anticipation of the Venetian invasion, they put a wall on the right of the stairs leading up to it so the enemy could not draw their swords. But there is no wall on the other side so those going downstairs, our compatriots, could dispatch the enemy quickly.”
“And don’t forget,” said Uncle Anton, “that they made the wall thinner on the side facing the city so if need be they could send a cannonball that would shatter it trapping the enemy inside.”
“I guess I could learn a lot from my ancestors,” said Marko.
“Yes,” said his father, “in their case necessity was the father of invention. They were surrounded by so many enemies they had to be very clever to survive.”
“Not to change the subject,” said Marko, “but how was the afternoon at the Slavonic Society?”
“It was much as usual,” Vlad said, “but Martin really enjoyed it, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I felt right at home. But I am curious about the society. I know they help immigrants and that is where I will be taking English class but what other sort of help do they offer?”
At that moment, Mirna appeared with a roast leg of lamb smelling of garlic and rosemary, surrounded by a variety of roast vegetables—potatoes, eggplant, zucchini, peppers, and onions. Martin thought he had died and gone to heaven. And when he tasted his first bite, it was so tender and succulent.
“Martin,” Paul said, “all the vegetables on the table are from our store. We are fortunate that there are many farming communities nearby where we can get our supplies. And you must have some salad—the greens are so fresh and tender and the tomatoes, flavorful and juicy.”
After Uncle Anton helped himself, he passed the platter around. When he saw that everyone had filled their plate, he said, “Martin, you asked about the Slavonic Society and what help they offer. Let me tell you they are a godsend to our poor relatives arriving here with nothing but the clothes on their back. The society provides financial aid, helps immigrants obtain a post office box so th
ey can receive mail, and offers insurance.”
Insurance. He had never heard of it before so he just had to ask. “What is insurance?”
“Insurance is a kind of protection. Let’s say there is a flood and Paul’s store fills with water. He can get money to clean up and replace whatever is damaged. I have insurance on both this house and the restaurant. Fires seem to pop up all the time, leaving destruction in their wake. Insurance helps people start over.”
Martin nodded his head, which felt like it was about to burst with all the new information about life in America. It would take time to process it all, and he would have to ask many, many more questions.
At that moment, Mirna and Katarina rose to clear the table. Then Mirna appeared with a silver tea service followed by Katarina with a tray of baked goods. “The one good thing about being under the Austrian Empire was we all learned to bake,” said Mirna as she passed around the tray filled with an assortment of pastries, cakes, and the all-time favorite, apple strudel.
The guests soon departed and Martin was sad to see the day end. Tomorrow would be another week of drudgery. He only hoped he could move ahead quickly in this new world.
Chapter 7
On Monday morning, Martin got up early to start English classes before work at the restaurant. Aunt Mirna was already in the kitchen, apron tied around her thick waist, making breakfast. Bread and butter was on the table along with a variety of fruit jams—strawberry, peach, apricot. In another minute, Mirna put a plate in front of Martin. It was filled with the American tradition, eggs and potatoes, and prosciutto and cheese, the typical Croatian breakfast. Then she brought a mug filled to the brim with rich, dark coffee, something he would need to begin his long day. “Thank you for the wonderful food,” Martin said. “Now I will be on my way.”
The California Immigrant Page 3
