by Roxi Harms
The mayor turned to the other applicants. "What are your plans for the land, gentlemen?"
One by one the other three applicants responded. None would be creating new employment.
"Well, councilmen," the mayor said to the men seated around the table, "you heard what the applicants have said. What do you think?"
"The rules are the rules, Mr. Mayor," said one of the councilmen.
"The fact is that Baumann's letter was last and the other applicants are long-standing members of this community and solid businessmen," said another.
"But the purpose of making the land available for development is to stimulate growth and jobs," said a third.
"That's true, but the process still has to be followed and this fourth applicant was not only last to submit, he has no track record in this community. He is a tradesman and an immigrant, and as such, how do we know he's going to succeed at such a significant undertaking?"
The conversation continued like a game of freestyle ping-pong around the boardroom table.
Finally, one of the councilmen interrupted the rally. "Mr. Mayor, can we ask these gentlemen to leave us for a few minutes?"
After ten minutes of small talk in the anteroom, Adam and the others were called back in.
"After further consideration, there is unanimous agreement from council," the mayor began. Then he addressed the owner of the drive-in theatre. "You will be permitted to purchase the piece you applied for to increase the parking space available for movie goers.
"Mr. Baumann, you can take your pick of which of the three-acre lots you want for your block plant. The remaining three-acre lot will be subdivided into two smaller parcels, which will be available for purchase by Mr. Canyon and Mr. Christianson."
The room was silent for a moment. Adam stole a glance at the faces of Sid and the Christianson guy. They didn't look upset.
Then Sid spoke. "Mr. Mayor, if I recall the shape of the parcels of land, subdividing will result in one lot with significantly more street frontage than the other. I would like to request the lot with the larger frontage."
The mayor sighed. "Which of the letters was postmarked earlier, Mr. Canyon's or Mr. Christianson's?" he asked the councilman closest to the letters.
After a moment's inspection, the guy answered. "Same date."
The mayor sat back in his chair, shaking his head. After a few moments he spoke. "All right, we're going to settle this, and then we're going to move on to other business," he said. Standing up and reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a coin and threw it up in the air. "What'll it be, Sid, heads or tails?" he said as he caught the coin and slapped it down onto the back of his other hand.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTEEN
The year whizzed by. It had been a decade since the end of the war and Adam was in his mid-twenties. The past was over and Adam rarely thought about it. It was the future that excited him, and he dug into his two businesses with tremendous energy.
Construction of the block plant was complex, and Adam tackled it fearlessly, relying on the equipment supplier for technical expertise, and on his growing network of local business people for advice and support. Convinced that the two things most critical to his success were the respect of the community and a hardworking crew, Adam made two decisions that year. The first was to invest time in a Toastmasters course. Every day he focused on increasing his English vocabulary and eliminating his accent. The second was to hire a crew comprised of recent immigrants, guys who were willing to work as hard as they needed to never be hungry again.
With the booming economy and his good reputation, Adam's masonry company was winning bid after bid. The crew was up to three full-time guys now, including Andy Arnold's brother Hans, whom Adam had sponsored to immigrate from Germany. They were hard workers, pulling long days, week after week and month after month. Penticton was growing as a tourist destination, and Adam didn't know it yet, but within the next few years, the main streets would be lined with new motels, and his masonry company would have had a hand in building all of them.
Although the pace was hectic and Adam frequently worked much of the night on bids, often falling asleep at his desk, he and Jean managed to make time most weekends for an outing together. A picnic or a movie, or even just a drive around the lake. When Jean announced that she was pregnant, their world was complete. Adam began looking around for a lot to build a new house for his family. He would build it from concrete blocks and open it up to the public to show them how much more solid and luxurious it could be than a house built from wood.
When Jean's pregnancy began to show, she resigned from her secretarial job, as was proper. With the growing administrative needs of Adam's entrepreneurial ventures, the timing was perfect. Seamlessly, Jean slipped into the role of managing the growing mountain of paperwork Adam dropped on her desk each evening, and quietly, when the mountain had been taken care of each day, she turned their new house into a home, ready to receive their first child.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETEEN
1956
The jangle of the phone startled Adam. It was a Sunday morning in January. He was deep in thought about the blueprint he'd been studying. The customer wanted two fireplaces in rooms that shared a wall. There had to be a way to reduce the materials needed.
"Good morning, Adam. How's everything over there?" His brother-in-law's voice crackled over the line from Germany.
"We're fine, Schnube," Adam said warmly, using his brother-in-law's nickname. "Well, I'm fine and Jean's moving a little slower these days. Less than two months to go," he smiled at Jean standing in front of the stove, one hand resting on her belly. The slow boil of the porridge she was stirring made soft popping noises every couple of seconds as the air bubbles forced their way to the top.
"I have some bad news, Adam," his brother-in-law continued. "Your dad's in jail."
"What? What happened?"
"Some kind of misunderstanding. He was at work. Remember I said in my last letter that he's got a new job in the boiler room of the fancy new American apartment complex? Well, a little girl from some American family wandered down to the boiler room. He's there shovelling coal, stoking the boiler to keep the hot water heating system going, same as every day. And she comes in and, I don't know, I guess your dad stops to talk to her to figure out why she's there by herself and where she belongs. Anyway, pretty soon he hears the parents calling for her outside, all frantic, and he sends her out to them and goes back to shovelling. But the little girl's father comes in to see where she'd come out from and confronts your dad. The mother found coal dust on the little girl's underpants. She probably sat down on the floor, who knows? And what the hell was she doing wandering around in a little dress in the middle of winter? But anyway, you know your dad. Apparently, he chased them out with a shovel when he realized what they were suggesting. Next thing you know, the police show up and haul him away. What the hell do they think? She's only about three years old!"
"My God, that's ridiculous."
"I know. And I thought I would be able to straighten it out. I went down there to talk to him and tried to talk to the police, but nobody's listening. He's been in jail for a week now and he has to stay there until his court appearance next month. I thought I'd better give you a call."
A few minutes later, Adam hung up the phone and sat down at the table as Jean placed a bowl of steaming porridge in front of him.
"What's going on?" Jean asked, handing Adam his coffee and easing herself down onto her chair across the little table from him.
"Unbelievable," Adam started out, then quickly recapped what his sister's husband had just told him. Then he sighed. "This will be killing Mom. Imagine the rumours that are floating around town. I'm going to have to straighten this out. But I can't go anywhere right now. Look at you."
"Well. . . I have another seven or eight weeks to go. If this is a serious situation, which it sounds like it is, and your family needs you, then you have to go. I'm sure I'll be fine. Just get home before my due date
," Jean replied matter-of-factly.
A week later, Adam pulled into the slushy yard of the little house in Laudenbach where his parents and little brother lived along with Theresa and her husband. Turning off the key of the rental car, he sat back and closed his eyes for a moment. The next morning, he would go to the post office and use the phone to call and check on Jean. He was exhausted after travelling for twenty-four hours, but it was certainly better than the two weeks it had taken four years earlier. The cost of the plane ticket meant slowing down the construction of their new home on Duncan Avenue until he could collect for a couple of more masonry jobs, but it had been the only option given the circumstances and, truthfully, he'd been excited to try flying.
As he climbed out of the big copper-coloured Chevy and stretched his legs, the front door of the house opened. His little brother, eight now, stood in the doorway, looking out at Adam shyly.
"Hi, Frankie," Adam said with a grin, taking the stairs two at a time. "You're sure a lot taller than you were last time I saw you."
A timid smile appeared on little Frankie's face as Adam picked him up for a moment, then set him down and tousled his hair.
"Hi, Mom," Adam said, looking past his brother as his mom appeared in the hall. Her eyes filled with tears as she stretched out her arms towards him.
"Oh, Adam, it is so good to see you." His mom's words were muffled by his collar. She smelled of baking. He gave her one more squeeze before letting go.
"Come in." She stepped aside so Adam could get past, then called out the door. "Frankie, come in the house and get a coat. It's freezing out there."
"Mom, can I go get Lutz and show him Adam's car?"
"I guess so, but put on your coat."
Adam looked out the window as Frankie slammed the front door and ran to where a bike was leaning against the fence. It was the old bike he'd left behind four years ago. Frankie bobbed up and down as he stood on the pedals to turn them, rattling down the street over the wet cobblestones. Looking back over his shoulder at the car, Frankie was all smiles. A couple of seconds later, he turned the corner and disappeared.
"Resi and Franz are still at work," said his mom as she followed Adam into the living room.
"Where did that come from?" Adam interrupted his mom as his gaze fell on the portrait hanging on the wall. It was him smiling out from behind the shiny glass, the fedora he'd been so proud of perched at a jaunty angle, his jacket and tie just so. It was the photograph he'd had taken for his mom before he left for Canada, enlarged and in a fancy frame.
"Your dad saw it every day in window of the photography shop in the train station and made a deal with the photographer to buy it when he was done displaying it. He saved a bit of money from his pay every week until he had enough and then when the photographer was finally ready to change his display, he brought it home. He had everyone in the neighbourhood come and take a look at it. It's been hanging here for a couple of years now."
Adam was quiet for a moment. "How is he?"
Later that night after little Frankie was in bed, Adam sat in the little living room with his mom, sister, and brother-in-law, talking quietly about what to do. Tomorrow he'd go and see his dad and the lawyer.
His dad looked relieved to see him when the guard led him into the windowless little room where Adam was waiting. Adam listened while his dad retold the story his brother-in-law had relayed.
"Goddammed Americans, what the hell do they think?" he said when he'd finished.
"I don't know, Dad. I'll figure it out. Oh, I almost forgot, I brought you some tobacco."
The lawyer didn't offer much hope. Since there were no witnesses, it would be his dad's word against the American officer's. Adam took down the officer's name and address. Maybe he could reason with the guy.
A beautifully dressed woman with a tall beehive hairdo opened the door when Adam rang the bell. After he'd introduced himself, she stepped aside and let him in, but only long enough for her husband to come down the stairs and kick him out. As Adam drove back to his parents' house that evening, he couldn't help but agree with his dad. Goddammed Americans! It wasn't just them though. Nothing had changed. The Baumanns were still refugees from Hungary. Second-class citizens. That's what this was really about. The officer had said it outright. "You think we're going to look the other way when some dirty old Hungarian refugee molests our baby? You must be out of your mind!"
All they could do now was wait until the court appearance. Maybe the judge would surprise them.
While he waited, Adam looked up his friends and caught up on who was doing what. Like most of the Elekers, Michel and Tony still lived nearby and worked at the same jobs as they had before he'd left. It was good to see them. On Sunday, he recapped his adventures in Canada for Joe Post over a schnapps, while snow fell outside the pub.
"Did you hear that guys?" Joe said to the other guys at the table whenever Adam paused to take a drink. He was a good guy, Joe.
When the court date came, Adam settled into the public gallery behind their lawyer while they led his dad in and sat him in the prisoner's box. As the two lawyers stated their cases, Adam's heart sank. It was just like their lawyer had predicted. The Hungarian German refugee's word against the American officer's. He knew what his dad would be thinking though – that the judge would see that the charges were ludicrous and throw the bloody American out of the courtroom.
"Guilty," said the judge. "Sentenced to six months in prison."
For a moment, his dad didn't understand what had just happened. Adam watched as the confused look on his dad's face changed to shock and then disbelief. His dad looked from the judge to Adam, his mouth hanging open, speechless. Adam wanted to look away, but he couldn't. Suddenly his dad looked small sitting there in the prisoner's box. Then, a policeman led him out of the box towards the side door. He looked back at Adam, a pleading look in his eyes. Adam met his dad's gaze and gave a helpless little shrug. I would help if there were anything I could do, he was trying to say.
After the door closed, Adam sat for a moment, holding his head in his hands. Six months in jail for child molestation. His mom was going to be heartbroken too.
Suddenly, the judge's voice reverberated into the room. "Is there an Adam Baumann in the courtroom?"
Adam's head jerked up. "Yes, Your Honour."
"Approach the bench."
How did they know his name or that he would be here?
"I understand you went to the residence of the plaintiff last Wednesday," the judge said when Adam stopped in front of him, "and that you attempted to discuss the case and persuade the plaintiff to drop the charges?"
"Yes, sir, that's correct."
"Are you aware that it is an offence to interfere with the justice
system?"
Adam looked over to where the officer and his lawyer sat watching the conversation. The officer had a smirk on his face.
He turned back to the judge. "No sir, I was not aware of that,"
he said.
"Well, it is, and the plaintiff has filed a complaint. You are charged with Interference. Your case will be heard tomorrow." The judge looked towards the police officer standing at the side of the room. "Take Mr. Baumann to the cells please."
Adam stared at the judge, speechless, as the police officer walked over to usher him from the room. Turning in obedience with the policeman's hand on his elbow, he looked over at the officer. The smirk had grown to a grin.
Adam lay awake staring at the ceiling of the cell. He needed to pick up the boiler in Vancouver next week. And Jean's due date was now only three weeks away.
In the morning, when the judge asked Adam to explain himself, he knew what he had to do.
"I am very sorry for what has happened, Your Honour, and for wasting your time. My wife is expecting our first child in a couple of weeks. I left her alone in Canada to come to Germany to try to understand what has happened with my father. I am very sorry that I attempted to talk to the American officer and his wife. I did not know
it was a problem, and of course now I know I should not have done this thing. I'm sure you can imagine how important it is for me to get home to my wife before she goes into the hospital to give birth to our child."
Five minutes later, the case dismissed, Adam was back in his car, driving towards Laudenbach. Everyone would be wondering where he'd been. And he had to tell his mom that his dad wouldn't be home for
a while.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY
His mom was distraught, as he'd known she would be, but Adam had to get home, and Theresa and Franz were there to support her.
Jean looked radiant when he strode in through the front door and stretched his arms around her, belly and all. A new crib and change table filled a corner of their room. She'd completed all the final touches. After a quick recap of what had happened back in Germany, Adam headed to the block plant to work on the final touches there.
A couple of days later, Adam set out for Vancouver well before dawn, navigating the icy roads cautiously as he wound his way up through the mountains and back down again into the Fraser Valley. Getting the heavy boiler positioned on the flatbed of his little truck and properly strapped down took longer than he'd planned. By the time he'd ascended back into the mountains with his load, the snow had started. Conditions deteriorated rapidly. Visibility was negligible, the accumulating snow obscuring the icy, winding road he'd driven earlier that day, rendering it nearly impassable by the time he reached the summit. Slowly, Adam inched his precious cargo down mile after mile of hairpin bends, gripping the wheel with all his might, until finally he reached the flats outside of town. Exhausted, he pulled the truck into the block plant yard, shut off the engine, and rested his head on the steering wheel.