The California Immigrant

by Barbara Anne King

  It was then Martin knew Nevenka was ready for marriage and would accept his proposal when asked.

  Marko was home for Christmas and it was even more special this year with the anticipation of the first grandchild. Mirna had been knitting every spare moment to create little sweaters, hats, booties, and blankets for the layette. She also had plans to make a special homecoming outfit that would suit either a boy or girl. She had already purchased a soft yellow yarn and mother of pearl buttons for the one-piece romper that would have a white jacquard pattern across the front.

  Katarina had arrived early on Christmas Eve morning to help prepare food and then decorate the tree. Mirna was already in the kitchen. “Put on an apron and join me. This will give us time to plan the nursery and a date for the baby shower.” Katarina gave a smug smile. She was secretly happy for all the attention her pregnancy had brought her.

  “Did I tell you I have your old bassinette stored in the attic? It is white wicker and just needs a new cover for the cushion. It’s the perfect size for a newborn baby and can serve as a bed for several months. So you can wait to purchase a crib.”

  “Mother, I have started making a list of everything we’ll need at first. After the holidays are over, I’ll share it with you and you can add the benefit of your wisdom.”

  “I shall look forward to that. A baby is such a wondrous creature full of mystery, just wanting to be loved. I can hardly wait to hold him in my arms.”

  “Him, you say. It could be a girl you know. Remember, I was your firstborn so that may be the family pattern.”

  “I didn’t mean to imply I prefer a boy. Of course, a little girl would steal my heart just like you did.”

  “Oh, Mother…you’re so sentimental.”

  “And practical, too. Now here are some onions for you to chop.”

  By the time the men returned from the restaurant, Mirna and Katarina had the meal prepared, the table set, and the tree decorated with presents surrounding it. “What a dinner hour we had tonight,” said Anton. “Tables were filled all evening while I cooked nonstop, trying to get the meals to the customers. Even Marko had to help out to keep up with the demand.”

  “Well, now you can finally relax. Go and get ready for dinner. You have plenty of time before I ring the dinner bell to gather around the table.”

  The traditional dish, bakalar en brodo, was the main course of the feast. Cod, a simple if not humble fish, saved millions from starvation and changed the world as people learned to preserve it by various methods including salt like the Croatians do. Before everyone was ready to dig in, Anton said, “May we always remember the humble cod and understand that following the simple path can have a big impact on our lives.”

  Martin was reminded of the Stanfords who did not live simply. The meek shall inherit the earth.

  Chapter 13

  When the holidays were over, Uncle Anton pulled Martin aside and said, “Let’s talk.” A thousand thoughts ran through Martin’s head, imagining what his uncle wanted to talk about. But he followed Uncle Anton into the living room where they could speak privately without other members of the family intruding.

  “Martin,” Anton began, “you have learned your lessons well. There is not much more that I can teach you. At this point, you are ready to become a head chef but, unfortunately, I have only one position at the restaurant, which I fulfill and will be doing so for many years to come, God willing.”

  Again, thoughts began running through Martin’s mind. Is he going to let me go? Does he want me to find another job? How am I going to make money to save for my future, for Nevenka?

  Anton saw the look of shock on Martin’s face so he continued to relieve his anxiety. “I think you are ready to start your own restaurant, with my help, of course.”

  “But uncle, I don’t think I have enough money saved to do that.”

  “Don’t worry about the money. There are ways to get it, believe me. But the way to achieve your dreams is not working for minimum wage but to be a business owner. And I know you have it in you to do it.”

  Martin took a deep breath, relieved he still had a job and would not have to start out on his own. “What do I need to do to start a restaurant?”

  “First, you have to find a good location and I already have several picked out that would be suitable. You need to take a look yourself, and then we can go after the money you need to sign the lease.”

  The next day, Martin contacted the leasing agents to set appointments to view the spaces available. The one he liked best had been a restaurant before, so there would be little renovation needed. It was also in a good location near a shopping area where he knew he could get prospective customers passing by. He wondered why the other restaurant had given up the space. When he asked the agent, he learned the restaurant had moved to a new, larger space in a more affluent part of town. This news boded well for him, he thought, so he brought Uncle Anton by to see it early one weekday before work at the restaurant began.

  “This is perfect, Martin. And the size is just right. You don’t want to take on too much when you are starting out. Let’s ask about the lease and then figure out the financing.” By the end of March, he had signed the lease and was on his way to becoming a restaurateur.

  Martin could hardly wait to share the news with Nevenka. He was establishing himself and planned to make her his wife by the new year if all went well. To celebrate, he brought Nevenka home to Sunday dinner with the family. Once they were all gathered around the table, Uncle Anton asked everyone to raise their glasses and said, “To Martin, may his restaurant be as successful as mine has been.” Martin clinked glasses first with Nevenka as he smiled and mouthed the words, “I love you.”

  Martin was overwhelmed with all the tasks that needed to be accomplished to open the restaurant by May 1. While there was a stove and cooler already there, he had to order cooking equipment, dishes, silverware, glassware, linens, and the list just went on and on and on. Not to mention, he had to decorate the restaurant and come up with a name. I think I’ll call it the Dubrovnik Diner. Uncle Anton was always helpful with advice without which he never would have been able to get the business underway. Nevenka took an interest in decorating. She had pictures of Dubrovnik framed to hang on the walls, and she picked out red and white checked material to be made into curtains, the colors of the Kingdom of Croatia. Martin could tell Nevenka had a talent for the domestic arts and would create the type of home he only dreamed of. He could hardly wait to propose and planned to ask for her hand before Christmas so he could present her with an engagement ring on the holiday.

  In 1906 both he and Nevenka would turn eighteen, a prime age to marry. And Martin did not want to wait a moment longer to make Nevenka his wife. To him, she was the most beautiful, sweetest woman he had ever known or would ever know. Together, their love could only flourish.

  Chapter 14

  On the morning of April 18, 1906 at 5:12 a.m., Martin was nearly catapulted out of bed by a strong jolt. While he was contemplating what it could have been, severe tremors began causing him to grab onto the sides of his bed in an effort to hang on while the shaking continued, growing in intensity, causing windows to shatter and beams to crack and plaster to fall. When the shaking finally stopped, shock overcame him as his body shivered with fear. It was then that Martin realized he had survived a major earthquake that released its fierce power over forty-two seconds of savage fury. When it ended, Martin was paralyzed by panic and the possibility another round of terror would be unleashed. But then he heard Uncle Anton burst out of his room yelling to Vlad, “Are you safe?” When Vlad reassured him that he was, he ran down to Martin’s room and repeated, “Are you safe?”

  They all gathered in the hallway, still shaking from the near brush with death. “Let’s go downstairs where we can gather our wits,” said Uncle Anton. They all sat around the kitchen table while Mirna put out orange juice, milk, bread, butter, and jam. Anton had warned her not to use the stove since gas lines might be broken or disturb
ed in some way. But other residents were not so wise and their poor judgment started fires that spread across city. “We need to get out of here before we’re all consumed,” Uncle Anton said. “And I don’t know how long it will be before we can come back so take basic necessities with you.”

  It took only a few minutes for everyone to reassemble to leave, and as they stepped out the door they could see fires spreading across the rooftops just minutes away from where they stood. “Let’s head down to the waterfront,” said Uncle Anton. But Martin decided to head to Nevenka’s to check on her first. When he arrived, her family was standing outside their building. He didn’t see Nevenka, but he spotted Stan and went up to him to find out where she was. “Oh, Martin,” said Stan, “I don’t know how to tell you this. Nevenka is dead.”

  It took a while for Martin to fully process what Stan had said. “No,” Martin said. “That cannot be. I’m going to go inside and find her.”

  Stan grabbed a hold of Martin’s jacket. “No,” he said. “You don’t want to remember her like that. She was crushed by a beam that fell from the ceiling.” Stan put his arms around Martin as he let out loud sobs and called out Nevenka over and over and over again, hoping she would hear him and appear. “I love you, Nevenka.” Without you, without love, I am nothing.

  Still in shock, Martin followed the crowd down to the waterfront where he planned to meet up with his family. When he arrived, it was so crowded he did not know how he would find them. He made his way to the grocery store and immediately spotted Uncle Anton standing out front with Katarina in his arms and Mirna kissing her. Vlad had seen him coming and intercepted Martin before he entered the scene. “Paul died.”

  Martin felt his face go white with shock upon hearing more devastating news. “First Nevenka and now Paul,” he said.

  “Not Nevenka, too.” Vlad and Martin stood together while tears flowed all about them. Then Vlad grabbed Martin’s hand and led him over to the family. He heard Katarina say, “Paul gave his life for me and the baby.” He had lain on top of her to protect her from falling debris, his body shielding her when the ceiling collapsed, absorbing its brunt force.

  People were setting up makeshift shelters while they watched the city burn until ninety percent of it had been destroyed, including the Nob Hill mansions, and the lives of three thousand people, the cherished loved ones of survivors. No one had been left untouched by the tragedy.

  Chapter 15

  As soon as he could, Anton took his family across the bay to live with relatives. No one knew how long that would be, but Marko had already gotten a job with an engineering company that planned to start rebuilding the city right away. He would start as soon as he graduated in May.

  Uncle Anton told Martin it was good that they had insurance, but it would be a long wait before their claims would be settled. Nevertheless, they had to put them in so they eventually had resources to start over.

  Martin did not know if he wanted to start over. His American dream had shattered into such miniscule fragments that he would not be able to put them together again. Above all, he could never bring Nevenka back—how his heart ached, how his zest for life had been snatched in a flash of time. One minute his life looked so full of promise. The next it seemed hopeless. Now he only had his faith in God to sustain him and his uncle’s family who shared his grief.

  Martin knew he couldn’t live off the generosity of relatives forever. He had to make a decision—to stay here or go home where Dubrovnik had stood for centuries always strong and secure. But he had little money and he was in California so he had to find work here. He overheard some men talking about the need for laborers to pick fruit in the Central Valley. Apricots were almost in season—the pay would be good and housing would be provided. He asked Uncle Anton about what he had heard and he told him that as a young, able-bodied man he should go since nothing was holding him there. Martin left with a group of men, all survivors of the earthquake, telling his family, “I will be back before Christmas to see you and the new baby.”

  The men were trucked downed to Bakersfield where they were left off at farms. The orchard had trees full of fruit ready to be picked. Martin grabbed a basket, climbed a ladder, and gently removed the fruit from its stem, and with even more gentleness, placed it in the basket careful not to bruise it. Bruising was always one of the biggest risks to the harvest since it would cause the fruit to discolor and rot quickly. After filling a basket, Martin climbed back down the ladder to arrange the fruit in crates that were stacked in the rows between trees. The work was hard especially in the hot afternoon sun but it paid well, simple meals were provided, and at the end of the day, he had a place to lay his head in the bunkroom. Most of the men he shared space with were refugees like him and immigrants, too—some from Croatia, others from Italy and even Chinese whose town was completely destroyed.

  Martin made his way through the Central Valley, following the harvest. When apricot season came to a close, he began harvesting apples, which drew him out of the Central Valley to a town on the coast named Watsonville, the Apple Capital of the World. Martin was surprised to learn that Croatians were some of the rich apple growers in the area. He found himself on a farm owned by one of his countrymen and quickly established a reputation as one of the best pickers not only because he was fast and efficient but also because he was careful not to bruise the fruit. Just like apricots, bruising could lead to a rotten end. Martin was paid by the crate so it was an incentive to fill as many crates as he could in one day. While the work was hard, requiring climbing up and down ladders, the weather was much more moderate and as fall set in, not even a chill could be felt in the air.

  One day when he was packing a crate, Martin looked up and thought he saw a familiar face—they locked eyes in astonishment. Martin said, “Aren’t you Michael from the boat?” Michael had told him he was going to work for his uncle at his apple farm near San Francisco but he had forgotten all about him until now.

  “It’s me,” said Michael. “I can’t believe we have run into each other after almost two years of separation. What brings you here?”

  “I’m sure you’ve heard about the earthquake in San Francisco. We lost everything. I was about to open my own restaurant and had even signed a lease. Then I was going to propose to my sweetheart.” Tears began to fill Martin’s eyes as he choked out the words, “But she died.”

  Michael was shocked and didn’t know how to respond. So he just stood there with a sympathetic look on his face, saying nothing until he saw Martin back under control. “You look like you could use a cigarette,” Michael said, offering Martin one and taking one for himself. They stood together in silence, smoking until the butt was too short to be held any longer. Then they dropped them, grinding them into the ground. “Well, let’s talk more this evening. I want to introduce you to my uncle and his family—I have told them all about you. I’ll come by your bunkhouse after dinner.”

  Martin managed a smile. Fate had at least done him this good turn by putting Michael in his path. Friends are always a blessing and a help in times of need. Michael couldn’t have come back into his life at a better time. Maybe things will start looking up, he thought. He touched his crucifix medal and put his faith in God.

  On Sunday, Michael took Martin out to meet his uncle and the rest of the family. It was a day when everyone was home relaxing before dinner. “This is my Uncle Luka,” Michael said. “And this is my aunt Nicola.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” said Martin. “I couldn’t help but notice all the apple trees you have. It must be a lot of work getting the apples to market.”

  Luka laughed. “Well, it is difficult but made possible with the help of many farm hands.”

  “It seems there are so many Croatians living here and most seem to be in the apple business.”

  “Yes, we have a talent with farming. My father came here around 1850 and worked as a farmhand until he could save enough money to buy his own orchard. He started small and with God’s blessing he was able to buy m
ore land and plant more trees until we have what you see.”

  “Michael told me that Watsonville is the Apple Capital of the World. How can it be that such a small area grows enough apples for the whole world?”

  Luka laughed again this time from his belly, which jiggled with each chuckle as his blue eyes twinkled in the light. “We are blessed with very fertile soil and we always try to improve by learning new methods that will increase the yield. Why are you so interested? Do you want to be a farmer, too?”

  “I don’t know. I was training to be a chef and even took out a lease to open my own restaurant right before the earthquake struck.”

  Michael didn’t want his uncle to ask too many questions that would bring up bad memories for Martin. So, he tried to change the subject. “We’re going to look around town to see if there is a good location for the type of restaurant Martin wants to have.”

  “If it is a Croatian one, there will be no problem getting customers,” said Luka. “Best look near Main Street since that is easily accessible from both town and farms.”

  “Thank you for the tip,” said Martin. “So far, I like what I’ve seen from this town and would like to stay. It will be a long time before San Francisco is rebuilt.”

  The next Sunday after church, Michael took Martin around town to scout out locations for his new restaurant. They saw a couple of sites that looked like they would meet the specifications Luka had mentioned. Afterward, they went to the Slavonic Society to socialize. Martin danced the kola with a couple of young girls but neither of them appealed to him like Nevenka had. Michael told him it was too soon. He needed more time to heal and to put Nevenka’s memory in a special place concealed in his past.