‘Mrs Sullivan, you might regret leaving this establishment,’ she cajoled. ‘As I may have two better rooms to let in a month or so.’
Mary certainly didn’t have any regrets, though, and was in no way sad to say goodbye to Mrs Beatty’s establishment on Orange Street.
‘That old rip will soon find two other greenhorns off the ships to take our place!’ shrugged John as they moved to Mulberry Street.
Annie, Nora and Sarah ran around their new home, delighted as Mary hung a curtain to divide into two the bedroom they were to share with the boys. There was a bed for them on one side, and a mattress on the other.
‘Uncle Pat and I will make bunks for you boys when we can afford it,’ promised John.
As she looked around their new home, Mary hoped that they and the children would find happiness there.
Each week, at Sunday mass at the Immigrants’ Church, Mary prayed for Con. Not a day went by when she didn’t think of and miss him. She asked the Lord to help her family get used to their new life and to look after the hungry and sick who were suffering back in Skibbereen. Afterwards, as the children ran and played and chased each other in the newly opened Madison Square Park, she and John walked arm in arm like two sweethearts.
CHAPTER 84
MARY STUDIED THE FIGURES SHE HAD WRITTEN DOWN, THEN TOTTED them up again. John worked hard but, with their rent and food purchases, they were barely making ends meet. Putting on her coat, hat and boots, she made her way to Catherine Ryan’s boarding house on Little Water Street and consulted with her about the prospect of finding dressmaking work.
‘Some folks don’t like hiring married women. That is the truth of it, but a family has to eat, I know. There are a few that might take you on, though keep away from Mena Stronge as she is meant to be a right old rip, and difficult to work for.’
Mary had taken out her sewing kit and gone from dressmaker to dressmaker and numerous garment factories in the district to offer her services, but with little luck.
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Sullivan,’ said dressmaker Betsy Smith, shaking her head, ‘but I already have three women working for me.’
‘I am a good worker with plenty of experience,’ she pressed.
‘I’m sorry, my dear. Why don’t you try Mena Stronge on Pearl Street?’
Mary thanked Mrs Smith, but was nervous about approaching Mrs Stronge. However, needs must. Putting her pride away, she found herself on Pearl Street looking at the narrow shop window with a dress and a maid’s uniform both on display. Taking her courage in hand, she pushed in the door and introduced herself to the tall woman presiding at the counter.
Mena Stronge’s wavy hair was pulled back into a tight bun and she wore a neat, high-collared blue dress, which showed off her trim figure. She had enormous limpid, pale-blue eyes, which might lull a person into thinking she was perhaps a quiet type of woman, but once the conversation started, those eyes became wide and searching, for she was a highly intelligent and astute woman.
Mrs Stronge said little as Mary told her about working for Honora Barry.
‘You seem to have made everything, from bridal dresses to fashionable styles and children’s clothes, and done difficult alterations to patching and mending,’ the woman said, somewhat sarcastically.
Mary blushed to hear her work described in such a fashion.
‘Have you brought any samples of your work?’
Mary’s hopes plummeted for a moment or two, before she thought to pass Mrs Stronge her plum-coloured winter coat and pointed out the finer details of the navy dress that she was wearing.
The woman examined the seams and hems, pin tucks and button holes meticulously.
‘This is good work, Mrs Sullivan. Very good work,’ she said admiringly.
‘Thank you.’
‘My business has a definite type of customer. I don’t make wedding dresses or fine stylish gowns for women to wear. Mostly I service the needs of people who wish to have uniforms fitted and made for their staff.’
‘Uniforms?’
‘For house maids, nursery maids and cooks. Of late, I have been fortunate to make the uniforms for all the maids in two new hotels – one in Brooklyn and one over on Lafayette Street. There are big houses, wealthy people employing staff, who want their maids to look neat and tidy but also to have some kind of personal detail on their uniform to distinguish them from their neighbours’. I tell you, it’s a growing business. That is, if you are interested in coming to work for me.’
‘Mrs Stronge, I would very much like to work with you,’ agreed Mary.
The other woman told her what her wages would be and explained that she would work for her for three full days a week at first.
‘Then we can see what’s what!’
Almost every day, maids came to the small shop on Pearl Street to be fitted for new uniform or to have an existing one repaired.
Every so often, Mary accompanied Mena as they travelled by coach to some grand house, where the maids were lined up to be fitted. Mary carefully wrote down measurements, names and details for Mena.
‘Hold up your arms, please?’ she asked a pretty girl from Kerry, as she ran the measuring tape over her.
Mary had started off fearful of Mena but, in time, came to respect the Belfast woman.
‘My husband and son and I came over here nearly fifteen years ago,’ Mena explained. ‘He was working in the bank for nearly three years when he suddenly took ill. A week later he died of a bronchial attack, leaving me and my poor boy, Henry, here in New York without a soul to help us. What was I to do, return to Belfast or try to make a life here?’
Mary was filled with admiration for Mena’s determination and business acumen. Bit by bit, she had built her business from scratch and, like Honora Barry, was a woman from whom she could learn much.
CHAPTER 85
MARY GOT TO KNOW THE MAIDS WHO WORKED IN MANY OF THE BIG houses and mansions in St John’s Park, Gramercy Park and Washington Square, and she listened to their tittle-tattle good naturedly. They were most happy to have comfortable, well-fitting uniforms, unlike the hand-me-downs and outfits either too tight or too big that were used by the staff in some other grand houses.
‘I’m getting married in eight months’ time,’ confided Kitty O’Kelly one day. ‘And that will be the end of my uniform days. What I will be wearing next June is a fine wedding dress that I am saving for. Would you consider making it for me, Mary?’
Mary had checked with her employer and Mena Stronge had made it very plain that she had no interest in such work, but had no objection to Mary taking it on. For Mary it was a chance to sew something beautiful and delicate again, for the pretty young Kerry woman, compared to the functional uniforms she usually spent most of her days making.
Over time, Mary developed quite a reputation in the Five Points for her dressmaking skills. She found herself making summer and winter dresses, outfits for weddings and funerals, and fine dresses for maids, housekeepers or cooks who, upon leaving their employment after long years of service to open boarding houses or eateries, wanted to be suitably attired.
It was good work and reminded her of Miss Barry’s shop. Often, she found herself thinking of her friend the dressmaker, who had helped to make their survival and journey to America possible.
She worked hard and saved every dime and dollar she could, week after week, putting it into a savings bank.
Catherine’s daughter, Lily, was getting married, and Mary was delighted when she asked her to make her dress. She was a pretty girl with the same thick dark hair and big brown eyes as her mother.
‘I’m getting married in a month’s time. It is only a simple affair, Mrs Sullivan, and I’m not one for fashion, but my mam told me that you will make me a special dress.’
‘I’d be happy and honoured to.’
Mary smiled and did her best to put Lily at ease as she took out her measuring tape. The girl had a good waist and long legs. Taking out some samples of lace, tulle and pretty sprigged cottons, Mary
showed them to her, and was not surprised when Lily chose the cotton. She suggested a high cinched waist, and encouraged Lily to consider adding a lace trim to the collar and cuffs.
‘I can make them removable for easy washing and dressing the dress up or down.’
‘We are to be wed at the Transfiguration Church,’ Lily told Mary as they continued to chat. ‘Mam is putting on a spread for us afterwards, back in the boarding house. If the day stays fine, she intends on putting two tables outside with summer daisies.’
‘That sounds like a lovely day for you all,’ Mary enthused.
‘Michael Connolly is the man of my heart,’ Lily confided, her face lighting up, ‘and truth to tell, all I care about is that the two of us are married.’
‘I felt the same as you when I was wed many years ago.’ Mary smiled, remembering the day that she and John were married back in Cork. ‘And it’s still the same.’
CHAPTER 86
THE CITY COULD BE A LONESOME PLACE. EVEN THOUGH MARY WAS surrounded by the constant noise and sounds of the teeming, overcrowded neighbourhood with its packed tenements, abundant stores, back-lane saloons and brothels, and busy streets, she still, at times was heartsore and longed for the peace and quiet of the countryside. She missed their cottage in the sea of green fields and the stillness there. Her homesickness gnawed at her like a pain some days, as she knew that she would never set foot in her native land again.
When she thought of Con, she longed to hold him close and never let him go, to banish the memory of his death. It still grieved her so but she took comfort in the other five children and the joy they brought her, for she now considered Jude and Sarah very much her own children too.
Tim had taken to drawing and sketching. The school master said that he had a talent far beyond his years.
‘Ma, I made you this,’ he said proudly, handing her a sheet of paper one day with a picture on it. ‘It’s our cottage. The way I remember it.’
Mary gasped. Although it was simply sketched and coloured, the cottage was exactly as she recalled.
‘There’s your vegetable patch, and the hen-house.’
Mary couldn’t believe how their son had managed to capture with his pencils the place that meant so much to them.
‘That’s where Da had to fix the hole in the thatch, and there’s where Patch used to lie in the sun.’
‘Ah, Tim, this is the grandest present I ever got in my life,’ she said, hugging him close.
‘I wanted to always remember our home place,’ he said softly.
John had studied it carefully, tears welling in his eyes.
Mary insisted on getting it framed, and made John hang it up for them all to see.
She and John both worked harder than they had ever expected. John continued to find work in construction, and proving himself a good carpenter he had been promoted quickly. On every street and piece of land, frame or brick building after building was being thrown up to house the city’s growing population.
Nora often watched her sewing at home. One day, Mary took out a spare needle and began to show her daughter some simple stitches.
‘That’s the way, and try to keep the stitches even and the same size,’ Mary urged her gently.
Nora chewed her lower lip, her hazel eyes filled with concentration as her fingers worked lightly. Mary could see her satisfaction when the neat square she had sewn was examined.
‘Good work!’ she said, praising her.
Sarah, on the other hand, like Kathleen, had no instinct for sewing. She pricked her fingers and tangled her threads and stitches terribly.
‘I hate sewing, Auntie Mary!’ she declared. ‘I much prefer baking and cooking.’
A few weeks later, when Nora asked to be allowed to try to make a skirt, it came as no surprise.
Watching the children grow and settle in this new land made Mary accept that New York was their home now, and she must learn to get used to it.
CHAPTER 87
‘BUSINESS IS GROWING IN THE CITY, MARY,’ CONFIDED MENA. ‘WHAT with all the big new fancy houses with staff, and grand hotels like the St Nicholas that are opening up. There are garment shops springing up all over, but as my work is custom made, I am thinking that I will soon need to find a bigger premises, away from the Five Points in a better area. The customers expect more of me than these two small rooms here in Pearl Street.’
‘That is good news.’ Mary smiled, pleased that Mrs Stronge was including her in whatever plans she was making.
‘To be honest, I’ll be sad to say goodbye to this place, but I have built a good business and reputation over the years, and I don’t intend to lose either.’
‘That wouldn’t happen!’
‘People can be fickle. They’ll flock to whatever new fancy place or dress shop that opens, believe me!’ She laughed. ‘But I’ve seen a suitable one on Centre Street, which needs a bit of work. It’s got three larger rooms and if I can agree a fair rent with the landlord, I’ll take it.’
‘Three rooms? Then there will be lots of space!’
‘Yes. As you know well, Mary, we are kept busy with so much work, but I was considering hiring a young apprentice. A suitable quiet girl.’
‘My Nora is good at sewing and is a steady, honest girl,’ she ventured, hoping she hadn’t overstepped herself with Mena by mentioning her daughter.
‘I intend on interviewing a few girls, so you send your Nora here to meet me. Mind you, I am not making any promises.’
Mary smiled. ‘Of course.’
She’d far prefer her daughter to work for Mrs Stronge than one of the nearby garment shops, which employed large groups of women making clothes. Sweatshops – that’s what people called them!
Nora was nervous about meeting Mena. Mary remembered how anxious she had been when she had first met the tall Belfast woman, but the one thing she had come to learn from working for her was that she was fair.
‘Show her the few pieces you have made,’ Mary encouraged her daughter. ‘Your skirt and the blouse, and remember to tell Mrs Stronge that you want to learn.’
‘I do, Mam. I really do,’ said Nora, her pretty face the picture of eagerness as she set off to Pearl Street.
Mena had examined her work thoroughly and then made her sew part of the hem of a dress, Nora told her mother when she returned home.
‘I was scared but I did my best.’
Two days later, Nora was offered the apprenticeship, but would not start until they moved into Mena’s new premises.
‘She’s a credit to you, Mary,’ Mena told her. ‘She is bright and polite, and will no doubt prove a good learner.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Stronge. I am grateful to you for giving Nora the opportunity.’
‘To tell the truth, Nora was head and shoulders better than the other girls. One, I suspect, had never even sewn a stitch in her life!’
Three weeks later, they moved into the new shop at the better end of Centre Street and, as Mena had predicted, the customers followed. As did many new clients – New York families that had come up in the world and could now afford staff.
Nora, to her delight, since leaving school was proving herself a good and willing worker, and got on well with the dressmaker, learning quickly from her.
A friend of Catherine’s, who lived only a block away, had offered Sarah a position. She was in need of a kind, bright girl to help with cooking and caring for two small children.
‘Lord knows you have plenty of experience of that,’ agreed Mary when Sarah accepted the job gladly.
Jude was happy in his work and, to his delight, his wages as an inker had been increased.
‘My poor da never got regular money. He was always full of plans but from what I remember never got a proper wage,’ he admitted quietly. ‘But I’m not like him, Auntie Mary, I want to stay where I am and work my way up.’
‘Your mam and da would both be so proud of you, Jude,’ she encouraged, hugging him tightly. ‘I know they would.’
Tim and Annie b
oth remained healthy and well, and were good students, thriving in school.
Sometimes when she walked down by the wharf and along the river, Mary would catch sight of the haunted look of fear and hope on the worn faces of weary men, women and children who were disembarking from ships that had crossed the Atlantic, or walking the city streets in their filthy rags. It still reminded her of when they had first arrived and how much their lives had changed.
However, she saw also the hope in the eyes of all those arriving month after month, not just from Ireland but from Germany too, hardworking people who lived near by in the Kleindeutschland neighbourhood. It grieved her to see some of her fellow countrymen fall victim to despair and drink. The hunger had marked and scarred them, and homesickness consumed them as they often struggled to survive in the overcrowded Five Points.
‘God help them,’ she sighed. ‘There is just too much sadness in them.’
CHAPTER 88
‘MARY, PAT WANTS ME TO GO IN WITH HIM TO BUY A RUNDOWN FRAME building on Mott Street,’ John told her nervously on his return from work.
‘Are you gone cracked? We don’t have the money for that,’ she told him outright.
‘Listen to me. Pat says it is a huge opportunity and that if we don’t grab it, someone else will. The place is falling down but we can repair it and fix it up. In a year or two we can either rent it out or sell it.’
‘We are paying rent and food. I’m telling you straight, John Sullivan, we have no spare money for such things,’ she sighed, exasperated. ‘Pat may have the money for it – he has no responsibilities – but we don’t!’
‘Pat says he’ll put up a much larger share, but he wants me to be a part owner with him. We can use our savings and borrow the rest from the Emigrant Industrial Savings Bank.’
The Hungry Road Page 27