“Excuse us,” said Aleta. “You have a nice fire….” She stopped. An awkward silence followed as they stood at the fireplace. The tall white woman nodded. “Enjoy it as long as you like.” Aleta spoke again. “We’re here to meet Mr. Solomon.” The white woman nodded. “Do you have an appointment?” “No, ma’am,” said Aleta. “Did anyone in particular send you?” “Yes,” said Aleta, “Dr. Otto Hull in Indiana.” “Ah, yes. You wintered there?” All five nodded.
The woman continued. “A good man, Dr. Hull. How is he? And Mrs. Hull, is she well?”
None of the five from Rubyhill were used to talking to strange white people, even after living with the Hulls. To engage in casual conversation with white strangers was very new to them.
But Aleta carried the day, telling the woman any news she could think of regarding the Hulls. “And we have a letter of introduction from Dr. Hull,” she finished.
“Excellent,” said the white woman. “Let me take it to Mr. Solomon.”
Aleta relinquished the letter to the tall woman, who said, “Please have a seat.”
Janie realized that had they not spent time with the Hulls, they never could have approached this organization of white people, strangers all. But the Rubyhill Five had learned enough social graces to do just fine. Aleta had just shown them how it was done.
The five young people sat down on a row of straight chairs against the wall. As they waited, Janie thought about their last day at the Hull farm. How difficult it had been to say good-bye. Mrs. Hull had held her close and promised her they’d see one another again, and if not on earth, they’d meet in heaven. “Thee knows there will come a time of no good-byes, yes, child?”
Dr. Hull’s face would have been unreadable had his eyes not been shining in an odd manner. Janie wondered if those were a strong man’s tears. He hugged each of them tightly. “We thank God for sending thee to us, and we shall dearly miss thee all,” was all he said.
Betsy cried openly as they readied their things on the last day. She packed lots of tasty carrying food for the group, and once they were on the road, they saw that she’d also wrapped and packed a Bible in with the food. It was a much-welcomed surprise, just as they knew Betsy intended it to be.
Maydean kept a stiff upper lip that last day, but her eyes betrayed her. Janie knew the bedroom would be especially lonely for Maydean once the girls left. She decided Maydean should have the pewter cross.
Before leaving that day, Janie draped the silver chain around her friend’s neck without comment. Maydean clutched the cross in her hand. “Thank you, my friend,” she whispered. She turned the cross over and read the inscription again, then looked up. “Make that joyful noise, Janie, no matter what. And write to me.”
Janie had simply nodded, too full of emotion to speak.
On the day the Rubyhill Five started their last leg of the journey north, nobody stood at the gate and sang to them. The Quakers were not singers like those at Rubyhill. Just the same, the power of their love and prayers sustained the young people all the way to Chicago.
The tall woman’s voice interrupted Janie’s thoughts. “Mr. Solomon will see you now.”
CHAPTER 20
New Places, New Faces
Mr. Solomon was a kind man and every bit as helpful as Dr. Hull had said he would be. Soon enough, the Rubyhill Five found themselves moving into a clean and respectable boardinghouse.
The three-story, solid-brick house sat in a neighborhood of mostly black and immigrant families. The boardinghouse was owned and run by Mrs. Babbs, a big woman with a big heart. The girls shared a room on the women’s second floor, and Nathan and Blue shared a room on the men’s third floor. They took meals with the other boarders in a long dining room on the first floor.
All five found jobs right away. Janie and Lucy worked in restaurant kitchens, and Aleta sewed for a tailor. Blue and Nathan both loaded cargo at the docks.
There were no laws to make children attend school in those days. There also were no laws against hiring children. Some businesses even preferred hiring children because they could pay them less. The Rubyhill Five did not know this. They only knew that as former slaves, they’d never earned money before at all, so to be paid for one’s labor truly felt like a step up.
Other than the Yankee cash from Rubyhill, cash on hand was still a new thing for the Georgia youths. Each earned enough money to pay room and board and have a little left over.
Fortunately Mrs. Hull had drilled them on how to handle money. She also had taught them to first give away ten cents of every dollar. This was a biblical habit called tithing, she informed them. Most people would give that tithed money to a church, but Janie also liked to look for people in need on the street and give to them, as well.
As soon as Janie could afford it, she bought her own Bible; the rest of her earnings, she saved. Janie took the worn piece of fabric from Aunty Mil’s chair and stitched it into a drawstring purse, and that was where she kept her savings. She stuffed the purse deep into her pinafore pocket and carried it all the time.
Janie realized that Dr. Hull had been right about another thing. Living in the city was a lot different from living in the country. After the initial thrill of Chicago wore off, Janie found she had some adjustments to make. For her, city life was jarring—noisy, dirty, and laced with bad smells. Its intensity was a shock to her country-girl nature every single day. And the Chicago summer was horribly hot and muggy with no relief.
Eventually, however, Janie learned to find what she loved in the city. She missed the farm animals, but she got to know the slow-moving milk-wagon horses, the alley cats begging for scraps, and the many birds. Janie liked to watch and feed pigeons, cardinals, and sparrows, all flying free above the clamor and congestion of the city.
The other part of nature Janie soon learned to love was Lake Michigan, and she came to appreciate living beside such a rare and grand force of nature. She found the crashing waves exhilarating, the sound of the foghorns comforting, and the flocks of screaming seagulls great fun. In that first hot Chicago summer, the Rubyhill youths learned that spending evenings at the lake could cool them down for sleeping. Sometimes on Sundays, very early, Janie went to the lakeshore alone to think and pray.
Chicago offered other things Janie had never thought about before. Access to libraries where she could read and borrow books made her feel incredibly wealthy. Free concerts of music of all kinds cropped up in parks all over the city. She heard public lectures and speeches on all kinds of topics and issues. She did not want to spend the money to attend the theater, but once she and the twins splurged and attended a circus. Nathan talked for a while about finding work there until he learned that the circus people stayed on the road all the time. “I’m done with that kind of life,” he said.
Unfortunately, Janie also observed that even though all kinds of people lived and worked together on these streets, Chicago did have whites who treated black people as inferior. And some blacks treated the immigrants as inferior. It seemed the many different kinds of people here did not necessarily like one another, Janie decided. They simply tolerated the situation of living together.
Nevertheless, the Georgian youths did sense a sure and certain freedom they would never have had back home, and they enjoyed every moment of it. Black people walked free and proud in Chicago. Black neighborhoods packed with black-owned businesses thrived. Chicagoans were not always warm, but they were helpful, and they respected hard work.
Best of all, Janie and her friends attended a big, beautiful church. Dr. Hull’s friend Reverend Silas was pastor of a large AME church, which stood for the African Methodist Episcopal denomination. For Janie, who had no church background other than the quiet Quaker meetings in Indiana and the services in the pine groves back at Rubyhill, the reverend’s church services were dramatic and thrilling. Especially the music.
To Janie, music at Reverend Silas’s church was a little like the fieldworkers’ music back home, only this was faster, more upbeat, and fuller
of sound. There were women singers who could make the hair stand up on Janie’s neck; they were that powerful. Janie loved singing with them, and she was grateful she could read the words in the hymnal. Some members played musical instruments—piano, drums, trumpets, and tambourines—during church. Reverend Silas pointed out that young David of the Old Testament was their musical example in this regard.
Chicago women, Janie observed, wore hats and other head coverings when out and about, and this appealed to young Janie. At age twelve going on thirteen, she felt like she was almost a woman herself. One day, she pulled Aunty Mil’s faded yellow head scarf out from under her pillow and inhaled the comforting but fading scent of Aunty Mil’s hair one more time. Then Janie tied the head scarf over her own pinned-up braids. She ran downstairs to look at herself in the hall mirror. She may still be small, but she looked grown-up. Janie wore the head scarf from then on.
So the days in Chicago were full and rich. Janie wrote long letters to Maydean, enclosing shorter ones to be delivered to the Hulls and to Betsy. She detailed every move the Rubyhill Five made in their new life and every decision as well. In August, Janie was elected to write to the Hull farm about the biggest news of all.
Blue and Aleta were getting married.
Train Station, Chicago
The Chicago-bound train huffed slowly into the station. George took his wife’s hand, and the two of them stood with their faces in the open window of their passenger car. True to his word, George had put Anna and himself on a train for the journey from Kentucky to Chicago. There would be no more walking for his wife on this trip.
Neither of them had ever been in a city like Chicago before. George had finally told Anna how he’d spent his seven long years away from her. The chain gang that bought him at Shannon Oaks had marched him all the way to the hot Louisiana city of New Orleans, where he spent many painful years working as a slave. It had been a horrible life.
It had been hard for Anna to hear about it, but it drew them closer when George finally shared his story with her. Living as a slave in New Orleans was nothing like riding into the great city of Chicago as a free man. Praise the Lord, how far He had brought them!
George pulled Anna close to him. “I am so sorry I made you wait for this trip, sugar. You should never have to wait for anything again.”
Anna laid her head on her husband’s shoulder. The fight of last spring was over, forgiven and forgotten. “We’ll find her, George,” she said. “We’re so close I can feel it.” The train rolled to a stop.
CHAPTER 21
Good News
Janie sat with Mrs. Babbs at the breakfast table and sipped her morning tea. It was early Sunday morning, and the other boarders were still sleeping. Fortunately, Mrs. Babbs, like Janie, was an early riser, so the two of them often enjoyed morning tea together.
“Miss Janie,” said Mrs. Babbs, “I have been meaning to tell you about an experience I believe you might enjoy.”
Janie loved listening to Mrs. Babbs speak. She had a deep melodious voice and spoke formally to everyone. It was part of her unique warmth and charm.
“Yes, Mrs. Babbs?” Janie carefully set her cup in its saucer then folded her hands in her lap as Mrs. Hull had taught her.
“A great speaker is coming to our fair city. On Saturday next, she will speak at the Temperance Hall.”
“She?” said Janie. Even in Chicago, Janie had not heard of such a thing as a woman delivering a public speech. Janie didn’t really count church testimonies in that category.
“Yes, dear, she. Her name is Sojourner Truth, and she is a powerful speaker. I have heard her before.”
“Sojourner,” Janie repeated. “What a beautiful name.”
“She chose her name, Miss Janie. She had a slave’s name, and she changed it to reflect her true mission in this world. She says she is but a sojourner through life, put into this world to speak only truth. She was an abolitionist prior to the war, and now she speaks of the rights of women.”
Unfortunately Janie would have to miss this event. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to attend, Mrs. Babbs. The restaurant is very strict about missing work on Saturdays.” Mrs. Babbs nodded sympathetically.
“But I’m glad you brought this up, Mrs. Babbs,” Janie continued. “It’s her name that impresses me. It makes me think that maybe I could change my own name.”
“Yes, Miss Janie, you could. Sojourner Truth certainly did.” Janie thought back to when she and the others had filled out paperwork at Mr. Solomon’s place that first day in Chicago. None of them knew their last names. If any of them had one, they’d never heard it. Janie had felt a sense of shame about this for the first time. It was one more indignity from having been slaves.
That day, the Rubyhill Five had excused themselves for a moment in Mr. Solomon’s office. They had huddled in the hall and came to the decision to borrow the Hull name for the time being. Janie still called herself Janie Hull.
Mrs. Babbs brought Janie back to the present. “If I may be so bold as to ask, Miss Janie, what might you change your name to, if you were so inclined? And would you care for more tea?”
“No, thank you, Mrs. Babbs.” Janie paused. “My given name was Georgeanna, but I’ve always been called Janie. As much as I like Georgeanna—those are my parents’ first names—I’m used to being called Janie.” She stirred her remaining tea thoughtfully. “You know, Mrs. Babbs, my last name isn’t really Hull, either. Most of us here from Georgia aren’t even blood family. We all took our last name from the Quakers we wintered with.”
Before Mrs. Babbs could respond, they heard tromping down the stairs. Blue and Nathan appeared in the doorway. Blue snapped to attention and gave a slight bow to Mrs. Babbs, who always loved such a show of courtesy. Nathan immediately followed suit.
“Sit down, gentlemen,” Mrs. Babbs cooed. “Will you both be wanting coffee this morning?”
“Yes, ma’am, that would be fine,” Blue said in a charming tone. Nathan nodded, and they both sat.
When Mrs. Babbs rose and went to the kitchen, Blue turned to Janie. “Good morning, Janie-bird.”
“That’s it!” said Janie.
“What’s what?” said Blue.
“That will be my new name. I mean, Bird will be my last name. Janie Bird. It will always remind me of Aunty Mil.” “I like that,” Nathan said.
“You thinking on changing your name, Janie?” asked Blue. “Why don’t you go back to Georgeanna?”
Mrs. Babbs moved into the dining room with coffee. She’d caught the tail end of the conversation. “If I may say,” she said, “you might wish to use the name Georgeanna as your middle name.”
“That’s a whole lotta names,” Nathan observed.
“But very proper,” Mrs. Babbs assured them. “I am not sure how it is done in the South, but in Chicago, we do tend to give three names to newborns.”
“Janie Georgeanna Bird,” said Janie. It sounded pretty to her, like music. “I like that, Mrs. Babbs. Thank you. That will be my new name from this day on.”
Blue grinned. “That’s my girl. Good for you.” He spooned sugar into his coffee and stirred it. Then Blue shared something he had never mentioned before. “I sometimes think about changing my name, too. Blue sounds like a slave name to me.” Nobody responded. Blue continued.
“My momma said I was named for my daddy, and I know my daddy was named for the color of his skin. They said he was ‘blue-black.’”
Janie shuddered. Blue had beautiful coal-black skin. Apparently because of that, he had been named the same way people would name a horse—according to color. It was another shameful legacy from slavery.
“But you know,” said Blue, “Aleta fell in love with me as Blue. And she and I think a lot of Dr. and Mrs. Hull—as if they were our own parents—so we might want to keep their name.”
“You could give yourself a middle name,” suggested Janie.
Blue considered that. “I could. I’ll talk to Aleta about it. I can’t say as I care much, but when
we have children someday, it might matter then.”
The table fell silent. Then the other boarders appeared for breakfast, and the subject was dropped.
Later at church, Reverend Silas announced the engagement of Blue and Aleta. The reverend congratulated the young couple from the pulpit and then surprised them by saying, “We are going to have a full worship service for these young people on their wedding day. It will be held on a Sunday morning and followed by the kind of feast this church knows how to fix.”
The people of the congregation chuckled. Their church suppers were impressive indeed.
Reverend Silas looked directly at Blue and Aleta. “I am authorized by the state of Illinois to marry you legally, and I will do so with great joy. On that day, Blue and Aleta, you will be married in the eyes of God and in the eyes of the law.”
Janie felt a shiver of excitement for her friends. Back in Georgia, when a slave had married, there was no church or law involved. Slaves had to ask permission to marry from their masters. If they were given approval—and there was no guarantee they would receive it—they followed a short ritual called jumping the broom.
In the ritual, the couple laid a straw broom on the ground, held hands, and jumped over it together. Then the couple was considered married. No minister, no paperwork. Freedom had not yet changed this ritual at Rubyhill. A black couple would still jump the broom to marry.
Janie looked over at Aleta and Blue. Their eyes were wide with wonder. This ceremony would be a lot stronger and more binding than merely jumping the broom. When they married, it would be a union approved by both God and the community, and nothing could tear them apart.
Nobody would ever be able to do to Blue and Aleta what had been done to Janie’s parents.
Elsewhere in Chicago
George and Anna had a plan. They had saved enough money so that they did not need to find paying work right away in Chicago. Instead, they intended to spend all of their time and energy seeking out Janie’s whereabouts.
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