Manhattan

by Michael Grant

She looked at the timepiece over the mantel. “Well, I’m off to tutor little Lucy.”

  Gaylord put the paper down. “And I’m off to interview Mr. Wood.”

  As usual, Lucy was jumpy in the house, startling at every sound. As Emily listened to the child recite her French words, she peered out the window and watched a parade of governesses and maids pushing perambulators around the park. It looked so peaceful and quiet. Suddenly, Emily had an idea.

  “Lucy, what do you say we continue our lesson in the park. Even though it’s November, it’s really quite mild outside.”

  Lucy’s face lit up. “Oh, yes, could we…” Then her smile vanished as quickly as it had come. “Oh, I forgot. I’m not allowed in the park.”

  “Why not?”

  She shrugged. “Because father doesn’t want me to.”

  Just then, Mrs. Ingersoll came into the parlor. “How is the lesson proceeding?”

  “Fine, Mrs. Ingersoll. I was just saying to Lucy, it’s such a lovely day, why don’t we finish our lesson in the park?”

  “Oh, I’m afraid that’s not possible. Mr. Ingersoll doesn’t want Lucy to go there.”

  “I don’t understand,” Emily said with a tight smile. She was growing irritated with the woman’s unwarranted intransigence. She stepped to the window and pulled the curtain aside. “Look, it’s perfectly safe. The gate is locked. And there are children playing there.”

  Mrs. Ingersoll became flustered. “What if you should lose the key? You would have to pay for a replacement key, you know.”

  Emily, struggling to keep her mounting anger in check, smiled sweetly. “I’m only going across the street. But if I lose it, I’ll be happy to pay for another.”

  Not knowing what else to say, the flummoxed woman fetched the key.

  Once they were in the park, Lucy seemed to visibly relax. There was something about the house that made her uncomfortable and Emily hoped that one day Lucy would tell her what it was.

  As they continued their lesson, three girls about Lucy’s age ran by chasing their hoops. “Do you know those girls?” Emily asked.

  “No.”

  Emily found that puzzling. According to Letta, the Ingersolls had been living here for over two years. It was hard to believe that in all that time she had not become friendly with the neighborhood children. She also noticed something else strange. As the governesses passed, they gave Lucy a curious look, as though they’d never seen her before. It was all quite perplexing.

  Wincing, as he gingerly touched the scab wound on his scalp, Michael said, “Do you mean to tell me I almost got beaten to death for an election we lost?”

  Flynn calmly lit up a cigar. “Aye. Both Wood and Tweed got whipped good, but they’ll be another election for alderman next year and I’m sure Tweed will win. He’s not the kind of man to lose twice in a row.”

  “Is being an alderman an important job?”

  “It is that. It’s the aldermen who hand out building contracts, and they make the contractor pad the bill for their graft. They award contracts to firms run by relatives. Sometimes they own outright the business they give the contracts to. And then there’s the policemen. The mayor appoints all policemen, but he must choose them from a list provided by aldermen. And here’s the kicker. These appointments are for one year only.” He winked at Michael.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Don’t you see, man? If a copper wants to be reappointed, he’d better tend to the needs of the aldermen. They’re a powerful bunch these aldermen.”

  “Copper?”

  “It’s a term applied to policemen because their badges are made of copper.”

  “So, what happened? If they and Tammany Hall are so powerful, how did they lose the election?”

  “Truth be told, not everyone in Tammany likes Wood. But, it’s like they say, you can’t win ‘em all. Mr. Wood may be down, but he’s not out. There’ll be an election for mayor in four years and Wood and Tammany are determined to win that race.”

  They were traveling up Fifth Avenue on their way to deliver a wagon load of bricks to a job site at Fifth and Fortieth Street. As they passed the Harrington mansion, now completed, Flynn stared at the building with a look of disgust. “Have you ever seen such an ugly building in all your born days? I’m ashamed to say I had anything to do with the damn thing.”

  “I’ve seen better.” Indeed, Michael had had the opportunity to see plenty of buildings as he traveled throughout the city delivering bricks and lumber, and the Harrington Mansion was by far the most ungainly building he’d seen.

  “That’s what you get when you’re too cheap to hire a real architect,” Flynn said, spitting toward the building.

  At the end of the work-day, they started back down Fifth Avenue. “Do you see all this empty space?” Flynn asked.

  “I do.” As far as the eye could see there were only a smattering of homes and farmhouses.

  “This is why I want to become my own building contractor. There’s great opportunity here. No one wants to live way up here now, but mark my words, one day there will be houses on every corner.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Everything is slowly moving north. I’ve been watching the movement for years now. Back in ‘35 the rich folk lived in houses on Greenwich Street, Broadway, and Bowling Green. Then there was a great fire and it destroyed hundreds of houses. Those fine old houses were replaced by stores, warehouses, and offices, and the rich moved north to Union Square and Gramercy Park. We helped build a beautiful mansion right on Union Square. It cost nearly a hundred thousand dollars, it did.” He shook his head at the extravagance of it all. “When I was a lad, there was practically nothing north of Canal Street, now the northern border is Fourteenth Street. Pretty soon it’ll be Twenty-Third Street.” Flynn’s eyes had a faraway look. “I’ll tell you, Ranahan, there’s great opportunity for a man who’s not afraid of hard work.”

  “Well, I’m not afraid of hard work, but I imagine it takes an awful lot of money to start a business.”

  Flynn laughed. “Aye, that it does. You should have let Mr. Vanderbilt run you down when you had the chance. He might have given you some money for your troubles.”

  Chapter Eleven

  1851

  After a reasonably mild December, the New Year started out bitterly cold, which, Michael found, made working on outdoor construction sites all the more challenging. The cement men complained about cement freezing before they could use it. The horses tended to come up lame more often from trying to negotiate the frozen, rutted roads. And the men, like Michael and Flynn, who had to work outdoors were continually fighting off hypothermia and frostbite.

  For the past few weeks, Michael and Emily had made it a habit of strolling over to Broadway after dinner. Despite the bitter cold, the fresh air was a welcome relief from the stuffy and claustrophobic boardinghouse. By day, Broadway was a bustling, cacophonous scene with wagons of all shapes and sizes rattling up and down the street and sidewalks crowded with shoppers. But at night, when business ceased, Broadway turned into a much quieter scene. Emily and Michael found it amusing to watch the dandies with their stovepipe hats, monocles, and gold-tipped canes strutting like peacocks up and down the street. But this evening they were nowhere to be found on Broadway. Instead of the usual parade of dandies, the street was packed with hundreds of angry, shouting men.

  Michael stopped one of them, a short, red-faced man. “What’s going on?”

  “We’re on our way to Longstreet and Company to protest unfair wages. We’re tailors and we deserve a decent wage and those penny-pinchers at Longstreet refuse to meet out demands.” The man glanced down Broadway and shouted to the others, “They’re coming, men. Stand your ground.”

  Michael turned to see a dozen or more policemen running up Broadway toward them. With their breath creating clouds of steam in front of their faces, the policemen reminded Michael of a stampeding herd of cattle.

  The picketers started shouting in unison, “Union, un
ion, union ...”

  As soon as the police reached the men they waded into the crowd swinging their nightsticks. Some men tried to fight back, but they were no match for the better armed policemen. Soon, men were falling in the streets, blood streaming from their heads. A large police wagon drawn by two horses raced up Broadway. The protesters who hadn’t been clubbed senseless scattered into the side streets. Those who were wounded or unconscious were unceremoniously tossed into the wagon.

  Michael put his arm around Emily. “Come on, let’s get away from this.”

  Back in the boardinghouse parlor, a breathless Michael recounted what they’d seen to their fellow boarders.

  Gaylord shook his head. “This unionizing business has been going on for some time now. For once it has nothing to do with ethnic differences. The men you saw are Irish, German, and American tailors. Longstreet and Company, one of the largest clothing manufacturers in the city, is notorious for low wages and anti-unionism. Lately, there’s been talk of forming a tailor’s union and the wealthy men who own these factories don’t like that kind of talk.”

  “How can they stop them?”

  “You saw it tonight. The owners employ the use of the police to do their bidding. They don’t want unions. For them, unions mean better wages and working conditions for the men and less profit for them.

  “Unions have no future in this city,” Mrs. Winslow said with firm finality.

  “Why not?” Michael asked.

  “Because, it’s as Gaylord said, the owners will never permit workers to control their businesses.”

  After a momentary silence, Sarah said softly, “I have some news. I’m leaving my position at Stewart’s.”

  Mrs. Winslow’s eyebrows went up. “Really? What will you do, my child?”

  “I’m going into business with my friend, Molly Kelly… I mean Madame Odette.”

  “That’s wonderful news,” Emily said. “I knew you would do it, but I thought it would take you a little longer.”

  “Well, the truth is it won’t be a true partnership as I haven’t enough money right now. But Molly said as I put more into the enterprise, I will eventually become a full partner.”

  “Will you be staying on here?” Gaylord asked.

  “No. To save money, I’ll be moving in with Molly.”

  “Well, we’ll miss you.”

  Sarah blushed. “Thank you, Mr. Temple.”

  Later, back in their room, Michael blurted out, “I want to open my own business.”

  Emily stopped brushing her hair. “Where did that come from?”

  “It’s the only thing to do. This afternoon when Flynn and I were coming down Fifth Avenue he said that someday there are going to be houses filling all that empty space above Fourteenth Street.”

  “Really? From what I hear no one wants to live way up there. It’s not a very desirable area.”

  “True, but Flynn says he’s been watching the city slowly moving north. If he’s right, they’ll be plenty of work for construction companies.”

  “But it must cost a fortune to start your own company.”

  “It does. But a wage-worker is treated like dirt in this city. I see that now. There’s no future in working for someone else. You saw what the police did to those protesters tonight. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life working for someone who can fire me on a whim or reduce my wages for no good reason. You heard young Sarah. Even she is going to work for herself. So is Flynn, when he gets enough money together. A while back, he introduced me to a German fellow named Otto. He’s only a bartender now, but someday he wants to open his own bar as well. I’m going to do it. Somehow, I’ll get the money.”

  Emily put her arms around him. “I have every confidence you will, Michael. But something has come up and you may have to rethink your plan.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m with child.”

  It took a moment for Michael to digest what she’d just said. Then he lifted her off the ground. “Oh, my God, Emily, that’s wonderful news.”

  “Are you sure? I’m not certain we can afford to have a baby just now, nevertheless, there it is.”

  “We’ll manage. Don’t you worry about that. When is it due?”

  “July.”

  “My God, that’s only six months away.” Michael sat down on the bed with a faraway look in his eyes. “I’m going to be a father ... and you’re going to be a mother ... Imagine that.”

  “So, you’re happy?”

  “I couldn’t be happier. I just wish my mum and da had lived to see this.”

  “I know. As soon as I found out I was with child, I thought about my father.”

  “What’ll we name it?”

  Emily laughed. “It’s still an it. Let’s wait to see if it’s a boy or girl before coming up with a name.”

  “Oh, right. Of course.”

  When Emily arrived at the Ingersoll home for Lucy’s French lesson, Letta opened the door and shrugged in embarrassment.

  “Don’t tell me,” Emily said with a frustrated smile. “They’re not home.”

  “Mrs. Ingersoll and Lucy are at the doctor’s.”

  Emily shook her head in exasperation.

  “Letta nodded sympathetically. “I know. But please come in. The coffee pot is on the stove.”

  In the beginning, Emily had been irritated by Mrs. Ingersoll’s rather rude habit of not being home when it was time for Lucy’s lesson, but it did give her the opportunity to get to know Letta better. The young German girl was pleasant and much more relaxed when the Ingersolls weren’t around.

  In the kitchen, Letta poured a cup of coffee for Emily and smiled shyly. “I know it must be a great inconvenience for you, but I’m glad when Mrs. Ingersoll isn’t home. I enjoy talking to you.”

  “And I enjoy talking to you, too, Letta. Thanks to you, I’m learning more and more about the city. You never told me how long you’ve been living here?”

  “My family came to America from Germany when I was just a little girl. My parents own a bakery in Kleindeutschland.”

  “And yet you prefer to be in service rather than work at the bakery?”

  “Ya. My father is very strict. Working here I have much more independence. I can stay out late with my friends without having to answer to him.”

  “How long have you been working for the Ingersolls?”

  “I came here two years ago, right after they got married.”

  “So, Lucy is not Mr. Ingersoll’s child?”

  “No. Mrs. Ingersoll’s first husband died three years ago. He was an engineer and he was killed in an accident while working on the Croton Aqueduct.”

  “How sad. Do you think that’s why Lucy seems so quiet?”

  “I don’t know. She’s been that way since I came to work here.”

  “What happened to Mr. Ingersoll’s wife?”

  “I understand she died in a cholera epidemic about ten years ago.”

  “Do you like it here, Letta?”

  “Um, yes ...”

  Emily noticed she hesitated before answering. There was something strange going on in the Ingersoll house. Why was Lucy so skittish? Why was Mrs. Ingersoll so high-strung? And why was Letta hesitant about saying if she liked it here?

  Just then they heard the front door open. Letta jumped up and straightened her apron. “They’re home.”

  Emily took advantage of the unseasonably mild weather to take their lesson in the park. She was just finishing up when a well-dressed woman approached.

  “Excuse me,” she said, offering her hand, “my name is Delia Hainsworth.” She pointed to a brownstone house on the north side of the park. “I live just over there.”

  Emily shook her hand. “And I am Emily Somerville.”

  “When you’re finished here, I wonder if you would mind stopping by. I have a proposition for you.”

  “Certainly,” Emily answered, wondering what the proposition could be.

  Fifteen minutes later, she was sitting in Delia’s par
lor. It was much like Mrs. Ingersoll’s, but much more tastefully done without the clutter and piles of tacky bric-a-brac. When she was seated, Emily said, “Mrs. Hainsworth, you said you had a proposition for me?”

  “Please, call me Delia.”

  “And please, call me Emily.”

  Emily was pleasantly surprised—and slightly shocked—by Delia’s informality. Judging by the expensive, yet tasteful way her home was furnished, plus the understated elegant dress she was wearing, it was obvious that Delia was a refined woman of good breeding. Nevertheless, it was a refreshing experience to meet someone so open and relaxed after dealing with the stiff Mrs. Ingersoll.

  “My maid tells me you’re teaching French to the little Ingersoll girl.”

  “I am.”

  “I was wondering if you would have the time in your schedule to take on our Abigail. My husband and I have wanted her to learn French, but we haven’t been able to find a suitable teacher. She’s only fourteen, but she does so want to learn French. I’m sorry she’s not here to meet you.”

  She wants to learn French? Emily was happy to hear that. Lucy was a bright child, but she seemed… distracted, if that was the right word. Perhaps she didn’t really want to learn French. In any event, it would be a joy teaching a willing student, not to mention the welcome extra money.

  “I would be delighted to teach your daughter. I come to Mrs. Ingersoll’s three days a week. I could come to you after Lucy’s lesson.”

  “That would be fine.”

  Back at the boardinghouse an excited Emily told Michael about her second student.

  “Well, that’s great news,” he said. “With a baby coming, we can certainly use the extra money.”

  “The only thing is, I don’t know how I’ll be able to teach these girls when the baby comes.”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Michael said with more confidence than he felt. Now that he was going to be a father, he felt the pressure to earn more money.