...
“What’s the matter Ma? You been lookin’ glum all week long.”
Oh, Junior. Nothing, really. I’m all right. Just a little sad that your uncle’s decided to stay in Milwaukee.”
Jim Jr. was fully aware of the complications caused by Uncle Dave and blamed him rightly for causing so much pain to the family. He for one was glad his murderous relation decided to remain in Milwaukee.
“It’s for the best, Ma. For everybody. Say, I’m plannin’ on goin’ to the Exposition grounds Sunday to make photographs before they’ve torn it all down. Why don’t you come with me? It’ll be fun to see it again, all deserted and taken apart.”
“Why would you ever want to photograph it like that, Junior? In such a state! How sad it will look in pieces in the snow with nobody there. I want to remember it the way it was in its glory.”
“Oh, come on, Ma. You won’t forget how it was just by seein’ what it’s become. All good things must come to an end, right? Even the Pan! It’ll be really interesting, you can’t deny that. Just bundle up good though. Just in case. That exposition property is the windiest spot in the whole county.”
She didn’t want to go, but couldn’t remember the last time she and Junior had done something together, just the two of them.
“All right. I will.”
...
Junior maneuvered the sleigh into a place aside the old Temple of Music where President McKinley had been shot. There the horse would be shielded from the biting wind. He tucked a quilted pad under the horse blanket for extra warmth and tightened the straps. Before setting off they fed him two apples, then Junior said, “We’ll be right back, Milo.”
Milo stomped his hooves in protest and watched as they ambled off through the snowy pathways without him.
“It’s so eerie. I can’t believe we’re just about the only ones here.” Hannah said.
It wasn’t depressing as she feared it would be. As Junior set up his tripod she poked her head into now-empty spaces where, strangely enough, much yet remained. Chairs, light fixtures, display cases. She’d read that people had come in to strip the place but armed guards chased them off. Many exhibitors had made no provision for dismantling or ridding themselves of the items needed for their exhibits and just abandoned the lot, much to the covetousness of local people entertaining salvage plans, thus far unconsummated.
Hannah recalled her visits the summer before, especially being transfixed by the exotic peoples from all over the world the likes of which few in the city had ever encountered before, and never would have either if the Exposition hadn’t taken place. Eskimos, tribal Africans, Hawaiian women with breasts bared, fancy New Yorkers in their finest regalia, famous stage actresses, top politicians, Arab and Japanese acrobats, Indian savages of many tribes, Mexican bullfighters, Incas, high-diving elk. What an experience!
They returned to the sleigh and continued their tour, dodging piles of lumber and the occasional fellow trespasser with an eye out for souvenirs not yet taken away by workmen.
The Chicago House Wrecking Company had begun their work the day the Pan closed, the enterprise having bought everything in its entirety lock, stock and barrel—literally—and engaged in placing the material in marketable shape for resale. Its advertising listed trusses, skylights, sash and doors, pipe, electrical apparatus, iron and felt roofing of every kind, fire hosing, fire engines, alarm boxes and related apparatus, flags, flagpoles and bunting of all nations, plumbing materials, urinals, cast iron cesspools, water hydrants, an Otis elevator, 3000 iron beds, 5,000 bed sheets, 20,000 kitchen chairs, typewriters, stamping machines, cuspidors, pumps, dynamos, smokestacks, relaying rail, 300,000 incandescent lamps, steam road rollers, surveyors’ instruments, trolley wire and equipment, automatic sprinklers, search lights, push carts, greenhouses, street sweepers, ambulances, boats, gondolas, oars, and hundreds more items.
Their advertising promised rock bottom prices for seasoned lumber and all manner of construction materials, a bonanza for those companies or individuals in the building trade. Sears Roebuck was a major customer, refurbishing and recycling the materials for the custom home building kits sold through their catalogs.
As Junior photographed the distant towers of the Triumphal Bridge, an armed guard approached and rudely shooed them away.
“Go on, get outa here or I’ll lock yous up, yous two! Yer trespassin” ‘n’ takin’ what don’t belong t’ yous!”
“The only thing we’re takin’, you no-account, is photographs!” Hannah scolded. “Unlike them men I’m seein’ over there! Just look at ‘em! They’re loadin’ lumber onto a dray, bold as can be right in front of your eyes, yet you leave them to it. Might it be that you’re afraid to approach four grown toughs, so instead you impose your wrath on an old woman and a child?’ Well, shame on you! Your mother must be proud! Now go and do your job and leave us to our Sunday amusements!”
Junior blushed. He was far from a child and his mother rather far from an old woman, mostly. Her dressing down effectively mortified the guard. He spat in protest, turned around and began walking away.
“Just don’t let me see yous ‘round here when I get back or I’ll take your Kodak!” he threatened.
“Weasel! Coward! Milksop!” Hannah taunted, unloading all her most recent disappointments on the guard. “Go, get on with yous! Pick on somebody else!” she shook her fist.
“Ma! What are you doin’, fer cryin’ out loud! You’re gonna get us in trouble! Let’s get outa here. I got what I came for.”
Hannah tightened her chin strap and giggled. Her tirade had disarranged her somewhat.
“So did I, Junior. So did I.”
”
Fingy Conners & The New Century Page 39