Grantville Gazette.Volume VII

by Eric Flint

  "Ulrich, what would be a good German name for the wringer assembly?"

  Dauer shrugged, sweat dripping on his shoulders. "Doesn't matter to me. Name it whatever you think best. Maybe the Cheerful Maid or the Laughing Laundress."

  "The Laughing Laundress it is. How soon will Albert be back from school?"

  "About an hour. I need him for the bellows on the charcoal to make it just right. It's much easier to work iron when he's here."

  "Hadn't thought of that," Chad admitted. "Would you like to join me for dinner with the Lions Club tomorrow evening?"

  "What's a Lions Club?"

  "It's an organization, active all over the world, well, was. It's committed to solving health and social problems by accomplishing more as a group than as individuals. I'm a past president of this chapter. It's also the reason I put that clause about eye protection in the contract. Our biggest programs have to do with sight, including eyeglasses and testing for vision problems. We meet two evenings a month, have dinner and usually a speaker. This week it's Len Trout, the principal of the high school. I thought you might be interested because Albert will be attending school there."

  "Why does he speak to you rather than you visiting him?"

  "It's good business to get out and meet people he usually wouldn't come into contact with. Most of our speakers enjoy spreading their point of view to groups of people in the community. It's one way of gathering support for whatever their position is. A lot of our members are also members of the Chamber of Commerce but a lot aren't.

  "Since the Ring of Fire we've had Mike Stearns, John Simpson, Rebecca Abrabanel, Frank Jackson and Greg Ferrera speak. We're planning on waiting until our German gets much better to invite the Count of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt and King Gustavus Adolphus." Chad kept his face straight.

  Dauer's eyes goggled. "The king? He would come to talk to you?"

  Chad burst into a laugh. "Probably not, now that you mention it. Well, unless he makes a visit to Grantville which seems unlikely."

  A moment later, Dauer assembled the pieces of the new wringer together once again. He clamped it to the standing frame and turned the crank. It turned smoothly. "Not bad, eh?" Dauer grinned. "You just have to lubricate the gears before you use it every day."

  "Ulrich," Chad declared, "You're a miracle worker."

  ***

  "Chad, can I talk with you for a minute?" Clarence Dobbs, a wiry, intense man was nervous. Ulrich Dauer stood behind him, clearly interested.

  Chad was inventorying the load of completed wringers while they were being loaded onto the wagon. "Sure." Clarence did all the plumbing, heating, ventilation and air conditioning repairs for Chad's rentals as well as his own home. "What can I do for you?"

  "Well, uh, I talked with Ulrich Dauer here and, uh, he said to talk with you. Well, what I want to do is branch out. The old HVAC business is going to go bye-bye in the next few years. Real air conditioning repair's about gone. Now it's mostly maintenance and well, I want to start making old-fashioned cast-iron stoves. Ulrich says that he can easily cast the parts. Even make the molds. What I really need is money. I'd druther borrow it from you than the bank or the Abrabanels."

  Clarence was normally self-assured and knowledgeable about every aspect of his business. His nervousness bothered Chad. "If you don't mind my asking, why me rather than the bank?"

  Clarence looked apprehensive and rubbed the side of his jaw. "Well, it's just that I, uh, had some credit problems recently, what with it being a family business. Not being able to, you know, work like before. But I'm good for the money. It's just that uh, well, I'm damn near broke, what with not being able to get parts and refrigerant."

  Chad eyed the man he'd known for years. "I'll have to think about it. What kind of accounting system do you use?"

  "Bonnie, my wife, handles all that." Clarence seemed uneasy about that fact. "She suggested the whole idea to me. Said she remembered her grandparents' old cook stove with the water reservoir on the side."

  "Uh-huh. Are you computerized or do you do account books?"

  "Well, Bonnie tried using a computer but she and it didn't get along. So she went back to the tried-and-true pencil and paper along with a calculator."

  "Okay." Chad sighed. "I'll need to look at your books before I loan you any money. Right now I've got a lot tied up in these wringers. Tomorrow I'm going to run up to Jena to sell the first batch. I'll look at your books when I come back. That all right with you, Clarence?"

  "Oh, yeah, sure." A relieved smile came to Clarence's face, reverting to his normal behavior. "That'd be great!"

  "All right, I'll talk with you then." Chad smiled and shook Clarence's hand.

  A moment later Clarence was gone but Ulrich stayed. "What do you think, Ulrich?" Chad cocked his head towards his partner.

  Ulrich shrugged. "I saw some pictures. Herr Dobbs says he can get me a stove to use as my model. I can cast the iron. The stovepipe will be more difficult but can replaced with round brick tile, like a very narrow chimney. Any tile maker can do it, I think."

  He hesitated. "Herr Jenkins, could I… put money with you to loan, maybe invest for things like this?"

  That puzzled Chad. Ulrich only had a few talers when he came to town. As far as Chad knew, he was spending almost as much as he brought in. "How much were you thinking about investing?"

  Ulrich licked lips that were still close together. "It's a lot. But not right here. I'd have to go get it. It's in my home town. I hid it. After the town was raided. I couldn't bring it with me."

  Chad's mind was on his cargo. "Sure. No problem. More money now means more money in the future. I'll go with you and we can pick it up after I get back."

  Ulrich gave a relieved sigh. "Thanks, Chad. You won't be sorry."

  ***

  The half-day trip to Jena in the hired wagon gave Chad plenty of time to outline the sales pitch. Chip had arranged for a pitch woman and assured him that there would be plenty of women who'd like to see the wringer demonstrated today. All of them had admired an early version of the wringer located in the Committee of Correspondence laundry or had other reasons to be contacted.

  "Herr Jenkins, I don't know if I could stand up in front of people and sell anything." Maria Schreiber, the stocky laundress was almost trembling. Mathilde Wiegert, Gertrude's sister, had suggested Maria to demonstrate the ease of the new wringer.

  Chad gave her a gentle smile. She wasn't the first salesperson he'd broken in. "First of all, Maria, each and every person you'll be showing the product to will be there because they know about the wringer at the laundry. They want to know if it's as easy as they've heard. Second, you've been using the wringer. You've experienced how much easier this one is. In fact, I'm giving this one to the laundry for your assistance."

  "B, but…"

  "Relax. We've gone over what you're supposed to say a few times already. Mathilde and I will be watching so if you have any problems, we can suggest things as part of the audience. Does that sound better? You'll be much better at this than I could ever be because you're someone like them." Chad wasn't certain Maria would work out, but Mathilde insisted she was normally outgoing, so this could work. He was fairly certain that her lack of confidence originated from a previous occupation. Now she'd be up in front of several "good" women. But he wasn't going to bring up the subject.

  ***

  "Come in, please. Have a seat on the bench." Maria was nervously rubbing her hands together at the front of the room. Chad and Mathilde were in the rear of the room Chip had arranged near the bathhouse and laundry. All the women in the room were laundresses or maids in town.

  "Good afternoon. My name is Maria Schreiber. I am here to demonstrate the Laughing Laundress wringer." Chad winced. She'd blurted it out in one breath. "I, I have two shirts in the water bucket here." She nervously pulled a linen shirt out with each shaking hand. "Uh, who is exceptionally good at wringing shirts?" There was no response. The thirty or so women looked impassively at her.

  "Uh, all
right, uh, well, I'll wring the first shirt over this empty bucket." Maria dropped both shirts back into the water. She drew out one shirt and began to wring it by hand. A cascade of water poured out of the shirt into the bucket. The longer she twisted it, water still came out. It gradually became less and less the more she twisted. Finally she stopped. "Is there anyone who thinks she can get more water out of this?" Again no response.

  She put the shirt on the table. Then she moved over to where the wringer was on a stand above an empty bucket. "I will now demonstrate the Laughing Laundress wringer." She saw Chad making notes on a piece of paper and became even more nervous. Would he simply stop the demonstration before she messed it up too badly? But Chad looked up, smiled and nodded so she went on.

  "Again, I'll take a shirt directly from the bucket. Then folding it so that any buttons are flat on the inside, I will insert the collar between the rollers." She was more confident now. "I'll hold it there until it is caught by the rollers." She gave the handle a partial turn and remembering, abruptly faced her audience. "Watch how the water pours into the bucket." She began turning the handle. Water poured out of the shirt, onto the bottom wringer, onto a thin downward-slanting board and into the bucket.

  "Now how many of you think this is dry enough to hang on the line?" Maria walked over to the first bench. She handed the shirt to first woman in the row, an older woman whose grim look and reddened hands indicated she was a laundress rather than a maid. The woman expertly flipped it out, felt it for moisture. "I've hung up some that were not as dry." Then she handed it to the next woman.

  "So this would be dry enough for any of you?" The women silently nodded.

  "Well, I don't think it's dry enough. I've been using an early version of the wringer at the laundry next door since the last fever. I always got my clothes drier than this. Now watch." Maria took the shirt back and made an adjustment to the rollers. She put in the collar of the shirt again and began turning the handle. It was no cascade but a steady thin stream of water fell into the bucket.

  Maria gripped the shirt by the collar. She flapped it, opening the entire shirt and smiled. "Now see how dry it is? How much is it worth to you to have a shirt, dress or apron almost dry without wearing yourself out before you hang it to dry? Not only that but putting it through the wringer does not twist apart the fabric. I warn you, the Laughing Laundress wringer is not cheap but you will be able to double, triple the amount of laundry you do. How? First, your arms don't get nearly as tired. Second, the clothing will dry much faster. Your customers or the mistress of the house will appreciate how clothing lasts longer because you won't be twisting it, breaking its threads bit by bit. Well?"

  From the back of the room Mathilde called, "Hanna, try it for yourself."

  Hanna, the woman to whom Maria had first given the shirt stood up slowly and walked over to the wringer. She took a shirt from the bucket and leaned forward. As she began to crank she ignored her hair on as it came unpinned. Until suddenly she cried out. "Awk! My hair's caught! I don't want my hair chopped off!" She began struggling, squawking as her hair pulled, caught in the wringer. Chad stepped forward and then stopped. He stepped back, leaned against the wall again and made another note.

  "Stop. Don't move." Maria gently put her hand on the top of Hanna's head before turning the handle in the opposite direction. "It's not the first time hair has wound itself around a wringer, including mine. All you have to do is turn the handle the opposite direction. There, see? Just something to watch out for, just as when you stand in front of the fireplace, you keep your skirts away from the fire."

  Once Hanna was released she stood well back and looked at the wringer with a deeply suspicious frown on her mature face, her arms crossing her chest. "Now you all know how to get yourself out of this problem." Maria looked over to the audience and smiled. "As you can see, I do cover my hair. I also keep it well away from the wringer works." She looked at Chad and he nodded. Time for the close.

  Glancing at the notes on the paper before her, she began. "Today only, all of you are invited to purchase one of these new Laughing Laundress wringers at a very fair fixed price of two talers. We have a limited number, far less that we could sell here in Jena but you're getting to an opportunity to purchase one today, right now, because a Committee member specifically invited each one of you or someone in your household. If you want to purchase one tomorrow, you may have to bargain for it. It is highly unlikely that you will obtain a lower price. In fact, I can guarantee you will pay more because there is going to be so much demand once the word gets out. Possibly a lot more because these are the last wringers that will be in Jena for a while. The ironwork is by a master blacksmith and you can see the quality.

  "You can pay in cash right now and take it home with you. Or you can place your order with a deposit and come back soon with the rest of the money. Or if you really, really want it but won't have enough money available soon, the Committee's credit bank is standing by to loan the amount at the incredibly low interest rate of ten percent. Please, try it now. Assure yourself of the ease of this wringer before it's too late and all the wringers are sold."

  Another older laundress, skepticism written across her face, walked over to the wringer, pulled out a shirt from the bucket. After a couple of false starts, she began to crank the shirt through it. After she finished the laundress frowned severely, her hands on her hips. "Well, I will admit, for as much as it costs, it does seem to work. My hands and arms ache as the day goes on. It's not magic but it's easier to turn the handle rather than wring by hand. Yes, I'll buy one."

  Soon all the laundresses were standing in front of Maria and a couple other Committee women while they wrote sales contracts and took deposits. Meanwhile the maids were running home to get deposit money from the mistress of the house or the housekeeper. According to Mathilde, all the city council members, including the burgermeister had a senior maid in attendance. Sebastian Moser from the Committee Credit Bank was joyfully smiling while he took applications for loans, the type of small business loans the credit bank had been set up to make.

  ***

  Three days later, Chad left the city with a box full of talers and an empty wagon. Empty, that is of wringers, the carter having picked up a wagonload of merchandise for sale in Grantville. Chad had extended the "sale" until the last wringer was sold. The market having been flooded for the moment, there would be no one to buy any wringers that anyone in Jena fabricated. Which was exactly what Chad wanted. He had nothing against a wringer monopoly as long as he was the man with the monopoly. Larger cities such as Leipzig would require a lot more preliminary work. He'd get Chip to arrange his introduction to the head of the Leipzig Committee of Correspondence well before he brought a wagon-full of wringers. The next batches were going to Rudolstadt, then Weimar and Erfurt, then the whole NUS.

  Naturally, Chad left a few talers behind. The city government wanted a few just to let him sell in the city. Maria was delighted to receive two for her three days of work. Chad also made a significant contribution to the Jena CoC for its assistance and donated a wringer to their laundry. The first laundress to announce she'd buy a wringer purchased hers significantly below cost once her previously agreed "rebate" was figured in. Hanna, the woman who'd gotten her hair caught, also received a discount for her suffering. Chad hadn't taken many chances. He left Jena with orders for thirty more wringers.

  He named Maria the local Laughing Laundress agent. The finished wringers would be sent up to her for distribution and collection of the balance of the purchase price. He was undecided if he wanted her to demonstrate in Rudolstadt as well. Perhaps Fraulein Mitdorff might be interested. He'd definitely arrange for a laundress to get her hair "accidentally" caught. Good, useful theater.

  He considered the involvement of the Jena CoC and smiled. Just to buy a wringer, you had to come into contact with a member. Since most wealthy and middle class households had their clothes washed by a maid or a laundress, the Committee had access to, at least indirectly,
everyone in the city. The poor came into contact with the Committee in so many other ways.

  ***

  "East of Halle?" Chad gasped in shock. Ulrich had finally told him where he'd hidden his money. "I know what I said, Ulrich, but no way can we go that far right now. Even the NUS government couldn't send out a party without serious questions being asked by whoever's currently in charge of those lands. If someone else doesn't find them first."

  Ulrich was enormously disappointed and it showed. "But I thought. .."

  "I know. I'm sorry. You wanted to have your money right now to start investing and become rich. Right? We'll do it. I promise." He slapped Ulrich's back affectionately. "In the meantime, let's get rich the old-fashioned way, making and selling a lot more wringers. I brought back orders for thirty more and our next city will be Rudolstadt."

  May, 1632

  "Honey, I hate to ask you about your business," Debbie began one evening at dinner a month later. "I mean, our washer and dryer are still working."

  "Go on." Chad put down his knife and fork. He rested his forearms on the arms of his chair and looked at his wife.

  "I was just thinking. Now that you have the wringer, did you ever think about making washboards? I mean, wringers are fine but you can watch German women who can't afford to go to the laundromat down on the banks of the Buffalo doing their laundry on the rocks. I've seen a few makeshifts around town. I think there were at least two companies who tried to make them and went broke. There's even been a few old washboards hauled out from wherever but nobody's really making any right now. Like the men can't be bothered to make a product only women use. Make washboards at a reasonable price and I guarantee you won't be able to keep up with the demand once the word gets out."