Stanley & Hazel: The Winnowing

by Jo Schaffer

  “I called a few times after the ball to see if you were okay,” he said, slipping his scarf off. “Did Roberts tell you?”

  “Sure. I appreciate it.”

  “I see …” He nodded. “Hey, soda jerk. Two vanilla ice cream sodas,” Gabriel called to the kid behind the counter.

  “You got it, mister.”

  Hazel would have chosen chocolate, but it didn’t surprise her that Gabriel hadn’t bothered to ask. “What’s on your mind, Sinclair?”

  Gabriel folded his hands together on his lap and cocked his head at Hazel. “I saw what Fields did the night of the ball, and I find myself in a psychological dilemma. You see … I had my mind made up about things not so long ago. I knew my place in this world. And I knew the place of people like your newsie.”

  Hazel didn’t bother objecting to Stanley being called her newsie. “Snug in your views, were you?”

  “Well, yes. Until … you.” He looked at her with admiration. “What I mean by that is … you showed me something different. Hazel, you are who you are. You don’t follow the pack. You’ve always been a bit odd …”

  Hazel scrunched her nose. “Says you.”

  He chuckled. “I’m starting this badly.”

  Ice cream sodas were placed in front of them, and Gabriel stared at his while Hazel played with the straw in her own.

  “So, I’m odd, and you know your place?” Hazel took a sip of her drink, wondering what Gabriel was thinking.

  He flashed a smile, put his elbow on the counter, and leaned his face on one of his fists. “The way you stood by Fields and his little band of riff-raff through everything. You defied the rules.”

  “Well, sure. They’re good people and bad rules.” She was not expecting a conversation like this with Gabriel Sinclair.

  “You see? They’re just people to you. Not street rats …”

  “I didn’t always think that way, Gabe. I didn’t know anyone outside our circles. It was new to me.”

  “You gave them a chance.”

  Hazel stirred her drink. “I suppose so. But I stumbled into the middle of some stark truths that blew the top off of the world I knew,” she said.

  He nodded slowly and took a sip of his soda. “And then when Fields threw himself on the kid with the gun … to save a room full of swells who never regarded him as anything more than scum or a novelty …” He stroked his chin as if searching for words. “I realized that he saw us as people too.” He chuckled at himself. “Is this all making sense? People seeing people as people?”

  Hazel smiled. “Yes. It does.”

  He let out a sigh. “Most of my life I have seen things cockeyed. Through a warped lens.”

  “That’s true for everyone.”

  “Some people won’t learn. Like my father,” he said, his face darkening. “He acts the saint … building clinics for the poor and all of that. But he wants to look good. He wants to be mayor someday.”

  Hazel wondered if Gabriel knew anything about what else went on at the Family Care Clinic. She watched him, and he seemed to be struggling with something.

  He put his hands over his face and took a deep breath. “After Evelyn was killed, I began to notice other things. Politics. Secret meetings. Men who had been best friends and business associates for years turning against one another. The mass murder of the St. Louis gangs. Servants whispering about disappearing neighbors …”

  Hazel held her breath. Gabriel was coming awake before her eyes. “What else?”

  “Then Maxie was killed …” The handsome, society boy gave a frown. “I’m ashamed to admit that she served my family for years, and I barely knew her … I have more to say about all of that, but …” He turned in his seat and faced Hazel. He pulled a paper out of his pocket. “A couple of days before the VP Ball, I found this between the pages of a newspaper I bought.”

  Hazel knew what it was before she looked at it. She took the copy of The Knight’s Voice and looked at the headline. The Winnowing Is Stealing Our Freedom and Our Future.

  “Do you believe any of this business?” Hazel asked, searching his eyes.

  He swallowed. “I—I don’t know what to think … After the ball blew up, I noticed how the papers described what happened. It was like Evelyn’s murder all over again. The truth was clouded.”

  Hazel waited as she saw him trying to control his feelings.

  “Hazel. I just don’t know what’s real. Charles was a close chum for years.” His voice broke. “I had no notion he was capable of such brutality. They say he was crazy, but … I think there is something else.”

  “He’s working for the Veiled Prophet,” Hazel blurted.

  Gabriel removed his spectacles and rubbed his eyes. “So this paper is true then.” He groaned. “Hazel.”

  She leaned forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “What is it?”

  “My father … I think …”

  A familiar voice broke in. “What’s the big idea?” Stanley stood behind them, his hands held up in question, a look of confusion on his face. “What’s this all about, Haze?”

  “Stanley!” Hazel was so excited to see him, the look on his face didn’t soak in. She stood and hugged him.

  He was stiff in her arms. “When I said we had to avoid each other for a while, I didn’t mean you should make googly eyes with this chump.”

  “Cool your heels, Fields.” Gabriel sipped his drink.

  “Why you …” Stanley grumbled.

  “You following me, Snoopy?” she murmured into his coat.

  “We were tailing this goon. His whole family, actually. So what’s the skinny here?” Stanley gently grasped Hazel by the shoulders and pushed her back so he could look into her eyes. He raised a brow.

  She stuck out her tongue, and he cracked a smile, catching on that this was not what it seemed. “Listen and find out, silly,” she said.

  “Hello, Fields,” Gabriel said, pulling himself together. “Actually I’m glad you came. I’m just getting to the part that may interest you and your renegades.”

  “Huh? What are you gumming about?”

  “I was just about to tell Hazel about Ruth,” Gabriel said, replacing his spectacles.

  Stanley kept one arm around Hazel and plopped down on her stool so that she sat on his knee. “Go on.”

  “Ruth. The girl I met a year ago between semesters. She’s beautiful, clever, graceful … a real pip at tennis. I thought I would just have a lark with her. But then, I fell in love, you see.”

  Hazel grinned and clapped her hands. “Casanova caught by Cupid.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Yes. I was caught. I knew I wanted her in my life, so I started to think about the practicals of that. Her family was moderately wealthy. Her father ran a successful winery before Prohibition, and then bootlegged until that came to an end, and started back up with wine. He’s legitimate. Even knowing her family wasn’t up to my family’s standards … I hoped.” He crumpled the paper he held in his hands.

  Stanley glanced down and seemed to recognize the paper. He turned his face to Hazel and raised his brows. She nodded and then leaned back against his chest. “What happened?” Hazel asked.

  “My father couldn’t get past that she was a Jew, and that her family was not the right kind. He forbade me to see her again. Of course, there were the clichéd threats of losing his financial support etcetera, etcetera. Common behavior, even for him.” He shook his head in disgust. “But, ever the dutiful son, I obeyed. I let her go in my never ending effort to please that man.”

  Hazel felt sorry for Gabriel. “That breaks my heart,” she said.

  “But giving her up … has proved impossible. I can’t seem to move on no matter how I try.” Gabriel shook his head.

  “And nobody has tried as hard as you,” Hazel said.

  He gave Hazel an apologetic look. “My father said to date someone more appropriate.”

  She laughed. “My dad used to sing that tune. He was keen on me
dating you too.”

  Stanley’s voice was unexpectedly kind. “Gabe, every boy wants a proud father. No shame in that.”

  “Every son wants a father to be proud of too. I can barely look at mine … he’s a hypocrite and maybe worse.” He picked up his soda and took a swig without the straw as if it were beer.

  “Need something harder than that for this next part?” Stanley said.

  The conflicted frat boy wiped his mouth. “Brother, you have no idea.”

  Hazel and Stanley waited while Gabriel summoned the courage to speak. “My father … had a thing for Maxie. I saw them together once in the kitchen late at night. And they weren’t making dinner on the table.”

  Stanley shifted uncomfortably. “That so?”

  “Oh.” Hazel’s face burned when she understood.

  Gabriel nodded. “I don’t know if she felt the same back … Didn’t get the impression she was as … enthusiastic about their liaison.”

  “Oh. No …” Hazel frowned, thinking of Maxie being trapped in a situation where she had no power.

  Gabriel stared at his hands. “I heard the rumors. I put two and two together. Maxie was pregnant. Then the next thing I knew, she was murdered.”

  Hazel let out a deep breath. It was even worse than he knew.

  “He objected to me loving Ruth because she was a Jew. While he took a Negro servant as a lover whether she liked it or not. Maybe my dad had her shot when he learned she was pregnant? I don’t know. I sound coo coo.” By now, Gabriel’s voice shook with rage. “Hypocrite,” he spat.

  Hazel slipped off of Stanley’s lap and hugged Gabriel. It was all she could think of to do.

  “Thank you …” He patted her back.

  “Why did you want Hazel to know all of this?” Stanley had his detective face on, as if he wasn’t sure he could trust Gabriel.

  “Because after everything with Evelyn and Charles and all the rumors, I just felt like I was raised in a nest of snakes. I don’t know who to trust. Hazel’s always been different. And then, seeing the two of you standing against the crowd … I don’t know. I just wanted to tell someone all this who wouldn’t judge me. Then I read this.” He held up the crinkled article Stanley had written. “Whoever wrote this knows things, and I always thought that somehow Hazel did too.”

  Stanley stood. “Let’s go for a walk, pal. I have more to tell you, and that radio may not be loud enough to cover what we say. Especially if you feel like yelling.”

  Confused, Gabriel stood too. “Yelling?”

  “Yeah. It’s about the clinic … and Maxie’s supposed shooting.”

  Gabriel’s brow wrinkled in alarm. He placed a couple of dimes on the counter and followed Stanley and Hazel outside to hear the rest.

  Gabriel Sinclair was ready to hear the truth. He reacted angrily when he learned that Maxie did not die of a gunshot the way the papers said. It was like his whole world had been dumped upside down. Hazel knew the feeling.

  She was surprised at how well he and Stanley got on as they talked. At one point, Gabriel even said to Stanley, “I’m sorry about socking you before. I was full of resentment that night and missing Ruth. And … it angered me that you and Hazel had each other.”

  In response, Stanley had said, “No worries. I didn’t realize you’d socked me. Felt more like a breeze went by.”

  Which then led to a ridiculous amount of back and forth insults and chuckling. Hazel didn’t understand boys.

  By the time they’d finished talking, Gabriel had sworn to use all of his knowledge, influence, and money to help stop what was happening. Stanley didn’t mention that he was the anonymous writer for The Knight’s Voice or the identities of others in the Order of St. Michael. Hazel figured that in time, trust would come.

  After the frat boy had gone, wiser and galvanized to action, Stanley and Hazel walked hand in hand down a quiet, middle class, residential street. She told him about her encounter with Arthur outside the clinic.

  “That idiot is in hot water. We’re still trying to find him. Good to know he might be haunting the clinic,” Stanley said. “Proud of you stopping him that way.”

  “Well, Henri helped.”

  “He’s a swell pooch.”

  Hazel saw that Stanley was tired. He seemed to carry the deaths of Evelyn, Vinnie, and Maxie, the vanishing of countless boys, and the grief of too many women who would never be mothers.

  “It isn’t all up to you, you know. The whole world is responsible for all of this,” Hazel said.

  “Yeah. I know. But do they know that?” He gave a small smile then raised their clasped hands and kissed the back of hers.

  The moon was bright in the sky, casting shadows of the trees that lined the sidewalk. The deep indigo sky was sprinkled with stars like a shattered tiara over a world that had forgotten who it was. Frost glowed on the grass and fences. It was cold, but holding Stanley’s hand made Hazel feel warm all over.

  “I know we aren’t supposed to be seen together, Snoopy. But I liked being with you at a soda fountain like a normal girl sitting on her boyfriend’s knee.”

  “Boyfriend?” Stanley grinned. “I liked that too, baby.”

  Hazel let out a sigh. She and Stanley had been an influence on Gabriel and perhaps countless others. Maybe the class divide would shrink if more people crossed it.

  “I guess we go back to me playing the fool and avoiding one another for a while?”

  “I don’t want that,” Stanley said. “But maybe we should.” He squeezed her hand.

  “Just don’t forget about me,” she said.

  “I’m putting all my eggs in one basket, Haze. You’re the only girl I love.”

  Hazel’s heart pounded. “I love you too.”

  They stopped walking and faced one another. “Then we’ve unlocked the biggest secret of the universe,” Stanley whispered. “Everything else is just an afterthought.”

  Hazel lost track of how long they stared into one another’s eyes. It didn’t matter how many minutes went by, how cold it was, or what might be in the shadows. They were together.

  Hazel rose up on her toes, and they held one another, kissing slow and forever. Home. Soulmates. It was like Peggy said, they could be as different as the sun and moon but would always share the same sky. No matter how terrible and whacky the world was, as long as Stanley was in it, there was no other place Hazel wanted to be.

  Stanley walked along the river with a small smile on his face. His cold breath came out in regular bursts of steam, but he didn’t mind. Thoughts of Hazel sitting on his knee in front of Gabriel and smooching on him made him feel aces and kept him warm.

  Gabriel. It just went to show there was no way you could judge someone too quickly. Sure, the guy could be a first class swell, but love had changed him, made him see the truth. Father Timothy talked about love being the burning heart of the world, and that it could transform everything. Stanley had been skeptical of all that, even as he tried to embrace it. But Gabriel’s about-face was a strong argument. And really, Hazel’s love for him was changing him too. In a way, it was love for others that made the Order of St. Michael fight a long, losing battle for all these years.

  He stopped to watch the driftwood floating by and thought about Arthur. That’s what Artie never got. Hate was not enough. It could destroy and even the score, Stanley guessed. But in reality, it didn’t make things better. It didn’t take away the hurt or the pain. Not even close.

  Sighing, he took a rock and threw it into the river. He needed to get back to the city. But he just wanted to stay here for a few more moments. Stanley leaned against his favorite tree and looked up and down the river, letting nature do its healing work.

  “Stanley.”

  His name brought him up short, and he turned around. Walking toward him was Lincoln Thompson, a black newsie who acted as a go-between for the Knights and the black community. They funneled food through to him, and he distributed it in his neighborhood. They’d
met last year when Stanley got tangled in a newsie strike in the wrong neighborhood and was accused of being a scab. Some palookas thought he needed a hammering, until Lincoln had intervened. Good thing, too, because he’d been outnumbered but good.

  “Link, what’s the skinny?” Stanley said, reaching out his hand.

  “Looking for you, white boy. And here you are.” Lincoln smiled, shaking his hand.

  “Seems like the whole city is looking for me lately,” Stanley grunted.

  “Well, that’s what happens when you piss off white folks in power. They don’t like people a-meddling in their business.”

  “And how,” Stanley said. “So how did you find me?”

  Lincoln shrugged. “Somehow, I figured you’d be here. We talked about this place, remember? It’s where you come to feel calm. And with everything that’s been going on, brother, you need it. If you weren’t here, I would have gone all the way to Dogtown.”

  Frowning, Stanley said, “That would have been risky for you. Something wrong?”

  “You could say that. Last night, a little, lost white boy came stumbling into the neighborhood, half drowned. He had bruises all over his body and his eye swole shut. Old Mama Jefferson brought him home and put him to bed. I went over to see him, and he was raving about trains, a camp, guards, and other such nonsense. But he kept asking for you over and over.”

  Stanley shivered, and it wasn’t from the cold. “What did this kid look like?”

  “Come see for yourself.”

  They walked up the river bank and made their way to Lincoln’s neighborhood. Stanley rarely went up to the north side of the city, so he relied on Lincoln’s guidance as they chatted away about the Cardinals and talked about the St. Louis Stars and the defunct Negro baseball league. He found himself wishing he’d paid more attention to the team when they existed. The way Lincoln talked, Cool Papa Bell was the best ball player in history.

  “So then, Papa started to dive and …” Lincoln tensed and grabbed Stanley by the arm.

  “What? What gives?” Stanley asked.

  “In the alley. Go, boy. Now.” Lincoln shoved him off the street and into a small alleyway between two brick buildings. They moved until they found two trash cans, and Lincoln motioned for him to get down.