"Well, I heard they have baseball diamonds on Bois Blanc. Maybe we can catch a game there on Saturday, huh Ojciec?" Joe thought this was a good way to solidify the family's upcoming trip.
"Really? Yeah, I think I heard a guy down at the plant saying he played there this summer. Well, I guess our little boat trip comes at a good time, right Joe?" Ojciec said as he winked at his son.
"Yes sir!" Joe replied.
Chapter Five
The school week passed slowly. A cold drizzle fell over the city the first three days and turned into a steady downpour on Thursday. The streets were a muddy mess. Walking home from school on Thursday, Joe stopped to watch two men attempting to free a carriage that had gotten stuck in the mud. Rain poured off their hats and down the backs of their long overcoats as they swore and cussed at the unmoving wheels. The carriage horse stood to the side observing their labor, shaking off the water from his mane and stomping his hooves to release the mud caked on his legs.
The brick streets were not much better than the unpaved ones, as the sewer system could not seem to keep up with the deluge. Cars and streetcars plunged through great streams of rain, splashing any poor pedestrian with a wall of water.
Joe's Sunday prayers went unheard. The nuns' demeanor was soured by the weather as well. Several boys in the class had their fingers rapped with rulers for small indiscretions like swinging their feet at their desks or not finishing all their milk at dinner. Joe's neighbor Sam was made to stand at the front of the class and hold his arms straight out to the side for half an hour. At first, Sam thought this to be an easy punishment for pulling the pigtails of the girl who sat in front of him. But after half an hour, pain began to show on Sam's face. At the end of the hour, his small arms were trembling uncontrollably with muscle spasms. Joe felt bad for his friend but said nothing. He sat quietly working on his arithmetic and American history assignments. Too great a gift awaited him on Saturday to jeopardize his standing with Sister Mary Monica.
The clouds finally parted on Friday afternoon, and the class went out to recess after eating dinner. Franz, one of the older boys, found a stick and drew four large circles in the wet dirt beside the school. Another pulled a small, closed sack filled with barley from his pants pocket.
"Zośka!" Joe said when he recognized the game. "Can I play?"
"Sure" replied Tall Paul, the boy holding the zośka sack. Joe stood in the middle of one of the dirt circles, and Sam raced over to the remaining one. Paul dropped the zośka on his foot and tossed it to Joe, who caught it in the air with his left foot and tossed it to Sam, who immediately dropped it.
Franz, the boy who had drawn the circles stated, "That's a fault, Sam. You're out!" Franz said. He took the sack and passed it to Tall Paul, who deftly caught it between his knees.
"Good one, Paul!" Franz said. Tall Paul tossed it to Joe, who again caught it on his foot. But when Joe attempted to pass it to Franz, he crossed his dirt circle, and the other boys called a fault, so he had to leave the game. The older boys passed the zośka back and forth several times until Franz was also out and Tall Paul declared the winner. They played for the entire recess, and Joe smiled to himself, feeling the warm sun on the back of his jacket. The sun was shining, he'd managed to stay out of Sister Mary Monica's line of sight that week and tomorrow was the big day.
Eating a supper of kielbasa and sauerkraut that evening with his family, Joe noticed his matka and ojciec secretly smiling at each other when they thought he wasn't looking. "Now what could be going on?" he wondered. He was about to ask, when his mother mentioned the picnic lunch she was going to pack for the next day.
"What time does the Columbia leave for Bois Blanc, Ojciec?" Joe asked. He could already picture the big boat chugging down the river with him on it.
"Eight-thirty a.m., Joe. We'll have breakfast and head for the streetcar at seven-thirty. That will give us plenty of time to get to the dock and buy our tickets. Matka made our picnic lunch and it's in the icebox ready to pack for the morning. Now," he said when they had finished the meal, "empty the water from the icebox and get ready for bed. Matka will bring Frank up in a minute."
Joe retrieved the metal pan containing the melted ice from the bottom of the icebox and carefully carried it to the backyard. He threw the water on what remained of their summer garden. As he carried it back down the hall to the kitchen he overheard his father say to his mother, "I know, I know… it can wait till tomorrow. Let's do as we planned, Blanca. One more day is nothing in a lifetime."
Joe returned the pan to the icebox and climbed the stairs to the room he shared with Frank. He undressed and, with a running start, leapt into the small, metal framed bed he shared with Frank. Now that his brother was almost three, his parents felt it was time for Frank to be out of his crib. The last two months had not provided Joe with much sleep. The weather had been warm and Frank had a tendency to push his hot little body against Joe all night. No matter how many times Joe would push his brother away or even arrange him down at the foot of the bed, Frank squirmed his way up next to Joe. Exasperated, Joe would occasionally grab a blanket and sleep on the floor next to what had been, up until July, his own bed.
When Matka brought Frank up to bed, Joe moved next to the wall to make room for his little brother. He thought that for once it wouldn't matter how much Frank kicked and squirmed. He was too excited to be able to sleep anyway. However, when Frank fell asleep a little while later, Joe found his eyes closing too. It had been a long week, and even the great event could not compete with a little boy's need for rest.
The following morning, Joe was up, dressed, washed and downstairs by six-fifteen. "Can I wake up Frank, Matka?" he asked.
"It's too early, Joe. Ojciec is still asleep. Why don't you go to the garden and see what is left to harvest. If you stay in here, I can see you will pester me to death."
Joe surveyed the remains of the small backyard garden they shared with his aunt's family. Joe walked past the string beans. He didn't like picking them because they made his palms itch. The early cabbages had all been picked and the big, late cabbages for sauerkraut wouldn't be ready for another month. But he found two cucumbers, several yellow hot peppers and two green sweet peppers. Piling them on the ground, he looked at the twenty tomato plants near the fence. There were still dozens of ripening tomatoes on the vines. He picked four large red tomatoes and thirty small cherries and brushed the dirt from the bounty. Untucking his shirt, he put all the vegetables in it, using it as a basket. In the kitchen he rinsed the harvest with water and placed it in the sink.
Matka turned from frying eggs on the stove to ask, "Was there no squash, Joe?"
"No, Matka. Not that I could see."
"Maybe Hattie grabbed them yesterday. I'd have you go next door and ask, but it's early yet. Also, I think Hattie is a little jealous of our trip today. We asked them to go, of course, but the girls need new shoes and dresses for the winter and Uncle Alexy felt they couldn't spend the money right now."
Thank Jesus, Mary and Joseph, thought Joe. If anything could ruin his trip it would have been his vexing cousins. A small stab of guilt about his small shoes crossed his mind, and he thought about telling his mother he needed new shoes also. But he couldn't fight the excited voice in his head telling him to keep quiet.
Matka was percolating the coffee when Ojciec walked down the stairs. He was washed, shaved and dressed to go out on the town.
"Now can I get Frank, please?" Joe pleaded.
"All right, Joe, go ahead and get your brother ready."
Joe ran up the stairs two at a time and down the hall to their room.
"Come on, Frank, wake up. Ya wanna go on a boat today?" he said, trying to raise his little brother from a deep sleep. Frank's hair was standing up all over his head, and one of his cheeks was bright red.
"Boat?" he said sleepily.
"Yes, a great big boat! Come on and get washed up. We're going after breakfast. Hurry now; let me help you get your clothes on." Joe quickly got his brother
ready to go and tied his small brown leather shoes. Holding hands, they walked down to the kitchen.
Matka had the packed picnic basket on the counter. She was wearing a bright lilac dress that came to her ankles, and her blonde hair was up in a pretty bun. Most days she wore a babushka, but today her hair was prettily coiffed. It shone like a jar of honey in the sun. A quick prayer over the meal, three bites of toast with jam and a scrambled egg, and Joe was ready for the door.
"Joe, slow down, get a bucket of water from the pump so I can wash these few dishes before we leave." Matka said.
Can't she wash them when we get back? he thought. Obeying his mother, he grabbed the bucket from under the sink and went to retrieve the water.
Many houses had running water but the Jopolowskis' home had been built without plumbing. An outhouse directly behind the home was their toilet. The family had never had indoor plumbing. Joe sometimes wished they lived in a more modern home, but knew better than to complain.
Quickly pushing up and down on the pump handle, Joe soon filled the bucket.
"Thought you'd be gone by now," came a snotty voice from the back of the house. Joe looked up and saw his older cousin coming down the steps carrying her own bucket.
"We're leaving in a minute, Marya" Joe replied.
"Better hurry or you'll miss the boat," she taunted.
"Don't worry, Marya, we'll make it. Have fun hanging around here all day. Looks like it's going to be a hot one." Joe enjoyed the fact that he was going to escape the heat for once. "If the iceman comes by, could you get a block for our icebox? I'm sure it will melt by the time we come back from the island. Thanks, Marya." Joe walked up the stairs and let the door shut in his fuming cousin's face.
Joe raced inside, sloshing some water in the hall. Joe emptied the pail into the sink, grabbed a rag to clean up the water on the wood floor and returned the rag to its rightful spot before Matka noticed.
Ten minutes later, dishes clean, kitchen in order, they were on their way. Walking south toward Gratiot Street, dressed in their best clothing, they were the perfect portrait of a good, hardworking immigrant family. Ojciec carried Frank on his shoulders, smiling under his mustache. Matka carried the basket with tasty treats for their outing. And Joe ran ahead and then back. They turned on Gratiot.
"What is that construction noise I hear, Matka asked Ojciec. The noise came from a few blocks away.
"Crowley's department store is expanding. They're taking over the whole block." Crowley's was a nine story building taking up half a block from Gratiot to Monroe Street. Ojciec had not been there but had heard the men at work talking about what a large store it was.
Matka said, "A couple of the ladies in the neighborhood shopped there and had afternoon tea in the mezzanine dining room. There are ladies' lounges on several floors and even a sick room staffed with a full time nurse." She laughed. "Can you imagine getting ill in a store and not going home to care of yourself?"
A few blocks later the family arrived at Woodward Avenue. This main artery through the city was three times as wide as a regular street. They waited at the corner for the electric streetcar that would carry them to the Bois Blanc dock. The street was bustling with horse-drawn carriages, Model T's and bicyclists, and there were people everywhere.
Matka grabbed Joe's hand as they climbed into the next streetcar. She sat down with Frank on a polished cane seat. Joe and his father stood nearby and grabbed onto a brass pole. The streetcar driver swung a knob that closed the folding doors. Joe had never seen an automatic door before and stared at the knob mechanism in amazement. Clang! Clang! Clang! the bell rang out as the driver stamped his foot on a button in the floor. He pulled a big lever with a wooden knob, and the car started down the tracks. The motorman pulled the lever again, and the car started speeding up. Joe started swinging side to side with the car's motion. The motorman turned and smiled at Joe. "Hello, good morning to you. Welcome aboard," he called in a friendly voice that had an unmistakable English accent.
"Good morning, sir" Joe replied.
"Looks like you are on your way to an adventure today… the Palace of Sweets or maybe Electric Park?"
"No, sir," replied Joe looking the driver in the eye. "We're going to Bois Blanc." He pronounced it like the French name it was, bwah blanh.
"Oh, you mean Boblo Island No one says Bois Blanc anymore. No one round here can seem to pronounce it right, so folks have been calling it Boblo. All these different languages pouring into this fine city, and yet no one seems to speak French." He laughed. "Don't know why, but it seems to fit, and everyone can say it." The motorman was tall and slim, with auburn hair and light brown eyes. He was Mikołaj's age or perhaps a few years younger. Joe admired the motorman's ability to balance on one foot and clang the bell with the other as he drove down the street.
"How long have you worked on the streetcar?" Joe asked.
"Oh, about three years now, I'm guessing. It's a nice job when the weather's good. Bit dirty and cold in the winter, but I meet lots of nice folks like yourself. Name is William Gribble."
"Joe Jopolowski." Joe extended his hand.
"That's a mouthful to be sure, Joe." William laughed.
The trolley's pantograph sparked and crackled as it met the copper catenary lines strung down the middle of the avenue. An oncoming streetcar passed them on the other track, pulling both cars slightly toward each other. What a rush! Joe turned and waved at the passengers riding the opposing trolley.
The noise on the street turned to a din as they traveled farther down Woodward Avenue. The ringing of the bell on the streetcar, the horns of the cars, the people and horses, musicians playing in front of a store to attract customers—it all fascinated Joe.
Joe translated what the conductor said about the island's name to his parents. He didn't want them to feel ignorant when they bought the tickets.
"How long has your family been in Detroit?" William said.
"About eight months—my father is working for Mr. Ford," Joe replied.
"Mr. Ford hires a lot of Poles, and the Dodge brothers are building an enormous plant in Hamtramck, and that whole city is mostly made up of Poles. They're even taking over the taverns the Germans always own. When I drive that route, I'm not sure if I'm in Poland or America."
"It's like that in my neighborhood too," said Joe.
The streetcar rails took them directly down the center of the avenue, with its multitude of businesses and stores. Tall wooden poles stood every twenty yards or so down the city sidewalks, shouldering a maze of electric wires. Huge signs stood on the rooftops of the large buildings advertising Light Vaudeville and Photo Plays for 10 cents. Delicious smells drifted out of the restaurants and bakeries into the streetcar.
Nickelodeons, barber shops, arcades, restaurants, (even a Chinese Restaurant!) crowded the city blocks. A sign for Heyn's Bazaar outlined with hundreds of electric bulbs competed with Weitz Clothing, Himel Hochs and B. Siegel's for customers' attention. Eureka Vacuum, Grinnel Brothers Music Store, Wright Kay Jewelers, Annis Furs and Fyfe's Shoes advertised their goods on giant signs hanging above their entrances. Taverns and saloons crouched between enormous emporiums on every block. Karsten's Cascade Room, Dolph's Saloon, Churchill's and the Hotel Delmar promoted locally made beers for a nickel in their windows. Detroit was known as the City of Saloons; it had over thirteen hundred taverns.
Joe read the marquees for the Wonderland, Temple, and Empress Theatres that offered vaudeville shows and short films inside. As the streetcar entered Campus Martius Park, Joe saw the Detroit Opera House perched on the corner.
The city's street plan had been redesigned by Augustus B. Woodward, a prominent judge, after a huge fire destroyed ninety-five percent of Detroit a century earlier, in 1805. Campus Martius was the hub of the city, with five major streets striking out from there like wagon wheel spokes. According to the motorman, Judge Woodward had simply taken the city map from Washington, D.C., and tried to emulate it.
"Look, Joe!" Matka pointed.
"Why is there a giant chair in the middle of the park?" Joe turned his head and saw an enormous dark red chair that was nearly twenty feet high and eight feet wide.
"Why on earth would anyone build a chair that big?" Matka asked. Joe thought it also strange but in a good way. William said the monument was the Cadillac Chair of Justice and had been erected in honor of the city's two hundredth anniversary.
"More like the Cadillac Chair of Wasted of Tax Dollars," he said, laughing as they passed the huge sculpture.
Joe related what William had said, and his mother laughed. Passing the park, Joe saw a sign for J.L. Hudson Clothiers. The elaborate window displays of the enormous store enticed pedestrians to come inside and purchase a hat or fine china. A dark-skinned doorman wearing a sharp red uniform stood at the entrance welcoming customers. As the streetcar passed, he opened the set of large doors for a lady balancing several packages.
"See those big red and white awnings down there?" William asked Joe. "That's the famous Palace of Sweets, also known as Sanders Candy." This was the place that Sam and his mother had visited the week prior. Sam had told Joe of the beautiful marble counters with every conceivable kind of sweet displayed behind glass. Joe just knew he had to get there as soon as he had a chance. Men in straw hats and women in large feathered hats holding small children's hands were pouring in and out the front doors. How big could a candy store be to hold so many people? Joe had to find out. And soon.
Now he could see the river looming ahead. Large signs for Bois Blanc were mounted on the roofs and sides of buildings.
"This is your stop coming up, lad," William said. "Next time you need a ride, find car number 12. That's this one you're on. Take good care of you, I will. Hope you have a terrific time today."
Joe said goodbye. Ojciec instructed Joe to take Frank's hand, and they made their way to the back of the trolley. The conductor sat in a small cage collecting fares. Ojciec dropped four nickels in a glass box, and Joe watched as the coins bounced back and forth down the staggered chute. The conductor pushed another button on the floor to open the back door. The trolley stopped, and they stepped off. Ojciec assisted Matka so she would not trip on her long skirt.
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