Sugar House (9780991192519)

by Scheffler, Jean

  The pretty lady started to laugh again but stopped when she saw how seriously Joe was staring at her. "Why on God's green earth would a fine, smart young chap be afraid of a child's toy?"

  "Because the Devil lives in it!" Joe responded assuredly. He pointed across the street to where the two boys were still playing the game.

  She pulled the light pink rim of her hat up and peered across the sunny street and saw what Joe was referring to. "Those two monkeys are my little brothers, full of mischief and snake tails as they are. They're trouble to be sure, but no more possessed of the Devil than any other ten-year-old boys. 'Tis just a game, it is. No more worrying for ya'. Now, I saw the milkman headed left on the next street just before ya' jostled me, my lad. Scurry along and you might catch him yet."

  "Thanks, ma'am!" Turning to run toward where the milkman had headed, he heard the woman call, "And watch out for evil toys and lasses out for a stroll!"

  Joe found the delivery truck on the next block and bought the sour cream. Carrying the glass bottle carefully, he headed directly home to avoid any further difficulties.

  Chapter Two

  Joe bounced up the steps of the two-family house his family shared with his uncle and aunt, Wujek Alexy and Ciotka Hedwig (Uncle Alex and Aunt Hattie). Joe could smell onions simmering in the kitchen, and he heard his three female cousins playing next door. He opened his own front door and hung his hat in the hallway.

  The house was typical for this area of Polonia, as his neighborhood was called in Detroit. Each home had a separate entrance, its own kitchen and living area downstairs and bedrooms upstairs. Matka and Aunt Hattie were good friends, and both enjoyed gardening in the backyard and gossiping in their wooden chairs on the porch in the evenings.

  What Joe did not enjoy however, was sharing anything with his cousins, Marya, Pauline and Emilia. Marya was ten years old, extremely bossy and always telling Joe what to do and how he should do it. His mother had instructed Joe to pretend to go along with the older girl for the peace of the family. He was two years younger after all. Occasionally when Marya had to watch Emilia for his aunt, he and Pauline would play stickball in the backyard or on the street with the other children from the neighborhood. But ordinarily, Marya would yell out the window for Pauline to come back inside to help with some kind of cleaning or cooking. Emilia was two years old, like Joe's brother Frank, and therefore was inconsequential to the mind of a busy eight-year-old boy.

  Joe walked into the kitchen with the sour cream behind his back. Luckily for him, Matka was giving Frank a piece of a sugar cookie, and her back was turned toward the door. Joe slipped the sour cream into the icebox, on the top shelf, behind the milk bottles. He wanted to let his father have the gratification of presenting it at supper. It was all Joe could do not to tell his mother. Relieved of his surprise, Joe turned his attention to the goings-on in the kitchen.

  Aunt Hattie was rolling dough for the pierogi. She was a short woman with a wide girth. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, and her traditional black dress swayed at her ankles as she pushed the dough on the wooden kitchen table with a rolling pin. Perspiration had formed on her brow and she wiped it off with the hem of her apron while humming Czerwone Jabłuszko, a cheerful folk song. Hattie had married Joe's uncle in Poland and had stayed behind with his cousin Marya until Uncle Alexy had saved enough money for their passage. Two years in a turbulent country without her husband had given Hattie a strong independent streak that Uncle Alexy found challenging, to say the least. Although not yet a citizen, Aunt Hattie spent any spare time she had campaigning for women's suffrage. She witnessed the atrocities committed by the Prussian army, and as a result she believed that all citizens should have a say in their government's activities.

  The large, shiny black stove on the back wall had been left by the previous tenants and was fairly modern. The oven door had Detroit Stove Works in ornate raised lettering on the front. The stove was burning coal and generating more heat on the already warm late summer day.

  Matka dipped a cloth into the hot water reservoir next to the stove's firebox and wiped down the sink.

  The kitchen was narrow and dark with only one window, above the sink, that provided little light. Matka washed the small window every week when the smoke from the stove and kerosene lamps began to darken the panes. Joe's mother had selected a dark wallpaper for the kitchen in an attempt to camouflage the smoke stains. A large wooden tub, used both for the family's weekly baths on Saturday night and for washing the family's laundry sat in the corner with the washboard. (It was Joe's job to draw the water from a pump in the backyard for cooking and cleaning.) One lone picture, of Our Lady of Częstochowa, hung on the wall near the table. Matka had hung a pretty flowered cloth in front of the sink to hide shelves underneath which held her pots and pans. She'd sewn a matching tablecloth that was used for suppers in the small kitchen.

  Matka opened doors of the hutch which held the family's few dishes, pulled out a glass tumbler and crossed the worn wooden floor to the kitchen table. Ciotka Hedwig and Matka were preparing supper in Blanca's kitchen because Aunt Hattie's stove was small and difficult to cook on.

  Frank was satisfied to chew on his cookie, and Matka sat at the table. She turned the tumbler upside down and used it to cut out circles for the pierogi.

  Joe greeted his mother. "Cześć Matka."

  "Joe. You're back. How was Father?" she asked in Polish. Matka knew almost no English and Ojciec spoke only a little.

  "Ojciec's in a good mood. He didn't care that I was a few minutes late," replied Joe.

  Blanca turned to Hedwig and said, "Well, what could be causing this cheery mood, I wonder?"

  "Who cares?" said Aunt Hattie. "Just be glad for it. Perhaps it will help with the news about… well, you know."

  "Yes, let us just thank the Lord for it. Perhaps God did hear me praying last night," replied Matka.

  Joe held his tongue and didn't ask his mother what the news was. Children could not interrupt adult conversation, and the women were obviously trying to keep something from him. Of course, being a young boy and being Joe he was all the more curious and determined to figure out what was going on.

  "Matka?"

  "Yes?"

  "Can I help put the filling in the pierogi?" Joe said, looking up sweetly at his mother.

  "Why, yes. Thank you, my son. I can't remember the last time you helped me cook in the kitchen, especially on such a lovely day, and a Saturday at that!" Joe thought he saw her turn to his aunt and wink.

  Joe began scooping small amounts of a cottage cheese and egg mixture onto the small dough circles. As he did this he peered at Matka from the corner of his eyes. After a couple of minutes, the two women appeared to have forgotten he was there and began discussing a neighbor who lived four doors down the street.

  "I saw five men come out of Mrs. Ludwicka's house at six yesterday morning," his mother said to Aunt Hattie. "Then, not forty-five minutes, later I saw two men going in. Ten minutes later, three more went in the front door, and when I left for the market a half-hour later, another man, very large this time, walked up the stairs and went in. All were dirty and tired, looking like they had just got off work at the automobile plant." Matka continued pushing the round drinking glass into the rolled out dough and pressing out small circles which she handed to Joe.

  "Oh, my" replied Hattie. "I was meaning to tell you, Blanca, I saw three men leaving around two o'clock yesterday. They were carrying dinner pails and looked like they were on their way to work."

  "Her house is the same size as ours," Blanca said. "We fit quite nicely here, but I can't imagine all those grown men in a house this size. What on earth do you think is going on over there? She couldn't possibly be boarding all those men, could she? I know she lost her husband last year; poor man, falling off that steel beam building the Statler Hotel. Dear Lord—falling fourteen stories down," she said, making the sign of the cross over herself. "But there has to be another way to earn money than taking in all thos
e men."

  "Fourteen men in one house! Disgraceful! Where can they all sleep? Surely there are not fifteen beds in that house? And what about her little boy? Isn't he around Joe's age? Even if her boy slept with her, she'd need her own room. Isn't the St. Josaphat civic committee always bringing her a food basket or two during the week? I donated a bag of potatoes and a pound of oatmeal to the church last Monday myself."

  "Matka?" said Joe. Matka looked at Joe and he continued. "I was playing baseball with Sam and the other boys yesterday after school in the street, and he told me that all those men living there share beds."

  "Whatever can you mean, Joe? Share a bed?" Matka looked sharply at her son. "Did you ask him about the men going in his house?" Neighbors that meddled in others' business were looked down upon.

  Joe's other uncle, Wujek Feliks, lived in a boarding house a few blocks from the Jopolowski clan. Ojciec and Uncle Alexy felt Feliks should live with the family, but Feliks said he didn't want to burden his brothers. To Joe's thinking however, his uncle liked to live without the interference of his sisters-in-law. He'd overheard the women tsk-tsk in hushed voices, as they prepared food in the kitchen, about taverns, gambling and burlesque shows.

  "No, Matka, Sam was telling me that he was going to Belle Isle Park today, and I asked him what he was going to do there. He told me his mother and he are taking a ferry to the island and renting a canoe to paddle through the canals. There's a zoo too, Matka, did you know that? Sam and his mother are going to go to the zoo and an aquarium. Then they are going to eat a picnic lunch and watch the big steam ships go by."

  "That's nice" Blanca interrupted, "but what does that have to do with the men living in their house?"

  "I'm getting to that, Matka" Joe replied. "Well, it sounded like a terrific time to me, so I said, 'Sam, how much does it cost to go to this park?' and Sam said it costs ten cents for the ferry, and the zoo and the aquarium are five cents apiece. His mother packed sandwiches for lunch, and after they take the ferry back to the city, Sam said they are going to the Sanders Palace of Sweets for an ice cream soda!"

  "My goodness, sounds like a lot of money to spend. What a waste when Mrs. Ludwicka must provide for her and Sam."

  "That's the thing Matka; Mrs. Ludwicka has lots of money now. Sam told me she has seven beds set up in the living room of his house. The day shift men share a bed with the night shift men. That way Mrs. Ludwicka gets two times the boarding money. The men don't care 'cause they only sleep there and get one meal a day. They have no families 'cause they just got here from Poland and they left them behind."

  "It's hard for men to leave their families and come to a new country alone; hard for the families left behind too," Hattie interjected.

  "So I asked Sam if I could look in his house and see all the beds and he took me over there," Joe continued. "What a sight. All the windows are covered so the night shift men can sleep during the day. Each man has a hook over the bed he shares to put his clothes on, and they keep the rest of their stuff under the beds. There were five men sleeping when Sam and I snuck in, so we had to be very quiet. Mrs. Ludwicka was in the backyard hanging laundry, because she cleans their clothes as part of their room and board. So she didn't see us."

  "Can you believe this Hattie? What a shame. All those men living in her house… I don't care if I was left with both those boys by myself, I would never…" Blanca was becoming upset, and Joe felt like he had ruined what had been a pleasurable day.

  "Don't worry, Matka. Sam says it's just for a little while. His mother is saving most of the money and is learning English so she can get a job downtown. Sam said his mother doesn't like all those men living there, but she has no other choice until she can learn English," Joe explained, anxious to change the mood back to a lighthearted one.

  "Well, I surely hope so. Imagine!"

  Hattie laughed. "One man in my house is one too many sometimes."

  "Oh, Hattie, stop now." Blanca giggled.

  Joe folded the filled circles of dough in half and pinched the edges together to finish making the pierogi, and the conversation changed to talk of some cloth Aunt Hattie wanted to buy to make Marya a new dress for Christmas. Joe was uninterested, and his mind began to wander back to the Irish boys playing with the board game on the porch. He wondered if they would go to Hell or if an evil spirit would come to them at night and possess them. Maybe nothing would happen and it was just a board game after all. Well, Joe thought, it sure wasn't worth the risk for a silly game.

  Hattie grabbed a large spoon and dropped the stuffed dough into a pot of boiling water. After a few minutes she pulled them out and gave them to Blanca to brown them in the cast iron skillet that Matka had retrieved from a shelf under the sink. She placed the skillet on the right front corner of the range, just the right spot to get it to a medium heat while she chopped onions on her wooden cutting board. When she finished chopping, she took a few tablespoons of butter from the icebox and put it in the skillet with the onions. A delightful sizzling accompanied the delicious aroma of onion. As she was browning the pierogi in the same pan, Mikołaj came into the kitchen.

  "What delicious smells greet me after a day of hard work! And two such lovely peasant girls to look upon! A man could not ask for more," he said. Joe poured his father a beer from the small keg next to the icebox and handed it to him. "And a good son to bring me a drink, God must be smiling down on me."

  Hattie laughed as she gathered her portion of the meal to take next door. "I am glad to see someone appreciates my healthy figure," she said, as she balanced the bowl of pierogi on one of her ample hips and swished her skirt in a flirty fashion as she went out the door.

  Joe sat next to Frank's highchair at the kitchen table. Ojciec sat down next to Joe. Matka placed the fragrant pierogi on the table and brought out a cucumber salad she had made that morning from the bottom shelf of the icebox.

  "I'll get the milk," Joe volunteered so Matka wouldn't discover the surprise hidden on the top shelf. Joe looked at Ojciec and Ojciec winked playfully at him. After pouring a glass for Matka, Frank and himself, Joe sat back down. Ojciec began the prayer over the meal, "Thank you Lord, for these gifts: for the health of this family, for steady work, a solid home and nourishing food. Amen."

  Matka dished out the pierogi onto each plate. Ojciec took a bite and said "Blanca, something is missing… ."

  "Oh no, did I forget to put in the egg?" she asked cutting a pierogi apart and looking at the filling.

  "No, no… hmmm… I think it needs a little… whatta you think, Joe?"

  Joe jumped up, ran to the icebox, pulled out the sour cream, and put it on the table.

  "Oh, Mikołaj! How exciting! Joe, you did not even give me a hint!"

  Pouring a spoonful of the heavy cream on his pierogi, Joe began to eat. The warm cheese and dough tasted like heaven, and he ate them quickly. After only three or four he began to feel full. Slowing down now, he took a bite of the cold cucumber salad. It had a refreshing feel after the warm pierogi.

  "Blanca, you do make the best pierogi in Polonia," said Mikołaj, taking a bite of his seventh dumpling.

  "Mikołaj, you are just full of compliments and surprises today. What is going on in that head of yours? Are you just happy tomorrow is your day off, or have you been elected to be the next president of America?"

  "Well, if you must know, the supervisor of the school building project let us know this morning that the school should be completed by November. Just in time too, as I see it. That old school is not well heated and our Joe needs to be warm so he can concentrate on his studies and become a great man someday. Right, Joe?"

  "That is good news," said Blanca. "A couple of months ahead of schedule isn't it?"

  "Yes, but the best news is that the school will be dedicated by the bishop on November 14, which is St. Josaphat's feast day. What a celebration we will have!"

  "How wonderful—the Bishop!"

  "Oh, and I have one other small thing to share with my fine family…"


  "What, Mikołaj?"

  "What is it, Ojciec?"

  "Father Gatowski gave me five dollars in thanks for volunteering every Saturday. So I decided to take our family to Bois Blanc Island next Saturday!"

  Joe could hardly believe it. He had heard about Bois Blanc from an older boy at school named Franz, the only child of a butcher. Franz had experienced more of the city's entertainments than any other kid at school. Franz and his parents had picnicked at Bois Blanc that summer, and he'd told Joe all about the steamship that took them there and the fun things they had done during the day. It sounded like paradise to Joe, and he couldn't wait to see it for himself. Waiting seven days would seem like eternity.

  Chapter Three

  Sunday morning, refreshed from their weekly bath the night before, Joe and his family left for church. Wearing freshly laundered short pants, stockings, shirt and jacket, he was on top of the world. His shoes were too small, but he dared not complain lest his mother think new shoes more important than a trip to Bois Blanc. In the morning sun, they walked tall and proud in their Sunday best. Mikołaj smiled as he carried Frank in the crook of his arm and held his pretty wife's elbow. Life had become a little easier since moving to Detroit, and they felt like they belonged. Blanca and Mikołaj greeted other families as they, too, left their homes and started toward the great steepled cathedral. They passed several Polish Catholic families who were headed in the opposite direction towards the Sweetest Heart of Mary or St. Albertus, both located two blocks down from St. Josaphat.

  St. Albertus was the first Polish church built in Detroit. It had served the community for several years when the handsome, young priest, Father Kolasinski, was assigned as the head priest in 1882. After only a few years, reports began to circulate that his live-in housekeeper was not his sister, as he had declared, but his lover. The radical priest was thrown out of the Catholic archdiocese; however thousands of parishioners remained loyal to Father Kolasinski and banded together to build a second Polish Catholic church only a block from St. Albertus. With their own hard-earned money they built the largest cathedral in Michigan, Sacred Heart of Mary, without the help or blessing of Rome. All who followed Father Kolasinksi were excommunicated. In reprisal, the Detroit archdiocese began to build St. Josaphat, just one block south of the rogue church, for the burgeoning Polish population. After a few years and much protest and discussion, the Vatican recanted the excommunications and allowed the priest and his followers back into the Catholic faith. The exquisite church was renamed the Sweetest Heart of Mary, and in the end three mammoth churches lay within four blocks of each other on the same street.