by Debby Lee
Abe balanced a box of food in one arm while he rapped on the door. The boney man who answered towered over him. “Mr. Addario?”
The man nodded.
“I’m Abraham Skala. On behalf of the International Ladies Garment Workers Union, I’m here to offer aid after the untimely deaths of your daughters.”
Mr. Addario opened the door wider. Abe stepped into the one-room living quarters and assessed the surroundings. The crowded quarters held one table, four chairs, and two cots covered in threadbare sheets with neatly folded, faded quilts atop them. Two sleeves of crackers and a tin of sardines rested on the otherwise bare shelves.
“Who’d you say you represent?” Mr. Addario tugged at his scraggly gray beard then rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “Any identification?”
The birdlike woman perched on the edge of one of the chairs coughed a dry, shallow cough then took a ragged breath. “It’s fine, Ezra. He’s from the union.”
Mrs. Addario stood, and Abe offered her the provisions, which she set on the table. Tears welled in her eyes. “God bless you.”
“I wonder whether I might ask a few questions to better understand your needs?” Abe removed his hat. A lone photo of two young women adorned the bureau. Abe touched the broken glass of the picture frame.
“They were late born,” Mrs. Addario said. “We just kept praying for children, and when God answered our prayers, we got two beautiful girls at the same birthing.” She coughed again, deeper than before. “And when He took them, He took them at the same time.”
She swayed a bit, and her husband rushed to hold her waist and help her to sit. He sat at her side and kept his arm wrapped around her middle.
“We never should’ve let them go to the factory,” Mr. Addario lamented. “We’re hard workers, Mr. Skala. Come from a long line of working folks, but the missus and I both got sick after we lost our life’s savings in a confidence game.”
Bile rose in the back of Abe’s throat.
Mr. Addario wiped his eyes with the backs of his pockmarked hands. “Our girls insisted. Barely thirteen. Said they wanted to do it for us.”
“You raised good daughters.”
“The factory work was meant to be temporary until the missus and I got back on our feet. We wanted to give our girls a better education than we’d had. The con claimed we’d double our money.” Mr. Addario rubbed his temples. “We lost everything, all because I trusted him. I’ll never forgive myself.”
Mrs. Addario patted her husband’s shoulder.
Abe’s gut roiled. Was it his father who had conned this family out of their money? He stared at the bureau.
“They told us the girls jumped together from the eighth-floor window.” Mrs. Addario’s voice cracked. “The exit door was locked.”
Abe nodded. “That’s true, but even after the foreman unlocked the door, the fire escape didn’t reach ground level and collapsed under the weight of the workers trying to flee.” He surveyed the room. “How can the union best support your needs? We can send food and provide a small fund to pay your rent until you’re well again.”
“Bless you, Mr…. What did you say your name is?” Mrs. Addario asked.
“Abraham Skala.”
“Skala. I’ve heard the name before. Where do I know that name from?” She tapped her fingers on her forehead, then a look of recognition came over her face. “I knew a woman named Lidia Skala. She worked with me at Stark’s Bakery. A nervous type. Do you know her?”
Is she asking because she can connect Mother to my father, or is she simply making conversation? Shall I admit to my parentage? I’m proud to be Lidia’s son.
“Lidia was my mother.”
Mr. Addario looked him in the eye, contempt sweeping across his brow. “Word round the neighborhood is your mother was married to the con. That she changed her name after he went to prison.”
Prison? Mother told me he was dead.
Mr. Addario stood over Abe, his words measured and threatening. “That makes the man who robbed us your father.” His voice grew louder. “Why did you really come here? I saw you lookin’ round. We have nothin’ left to rob.”
“I assure you, I’m not here to rob you.”
“He sent you, didn’t he?”
“No, sir. The union sent me.”
“I bet he’s out of prison and you’re his front man. Tell him for me we got nothin’ left.” He stepped away and opened the door.
When Abe stood firm, Mr. Addario grabbed him by the collar and hauled him outside. “Don’t come back.”
Abe straightened his spine and turned to face Mr. Addario. “I’m not like my father. I’ll prove it to you.”
Mr. Addario grunted and slammed the door in his face.
Teeth clenched, Abe drove to the first pay phone he saw. He crammed coins into the slot and asked the operator to connect him to the Clinton Correctional Facility. He had to know whether Mother had lied to him.
“Clinton Correctional Facility,” the operator said. “How may I direct your call?”
“Uh, who can … who can tell me whether my father is an inmate?” he stuttered.
“I’ll transfer your call to the warden’s office.”
Should he hang up? What would he do if his father was alive?
“This is the warden.”
The gruff voice made Abe want to hang up, but he had to know, didn’t he?
“I’m trying to locate my father.” His mouth went dry. “Are you able to confirm a Tymon Kowalski as an inmate?”
Abe heard papers rustling then the warden’s voice, “Yeah. He’s been here seven years.”
Abe dropped the handset. He pushed the folding door open and gasped for air. His father was alive.
Why hadn’t Mother trusted him with the truth?
Three days had passed since Father accused Abe of consorting with her, and no matter how much Millie contemplated what went wrong, she couldn’t make sense of it. Father hadn’t spoken to her since then, and she didn’t know how to end the silence between them. Her only solace came when she had a needle and thread in her hands.
Happy for the excuse to retreat to the bedroom after dinner, she helped Celia prepare for bed. After she sang a lullaby and tucked the sleepy child under her blanket, Millie gathered her sewing basket, scraps of ribbon, and Mother’s blue satin hat.
She fashioned ribbon into rosettes and sewed them onto the hat to cover up the imperfections caused by wear and tear. Bone weary, she pushed the dull needle through the satin and longed for the days when Mother was alive and there was money saved in a tin for their millinery shop. But Mother was gone and with her the dream.
Her mind calmed as she transformed the stained hat into a fashionable headpiece. Feeling more settled now, she puzzled through her guilt over the way Father treated Abe. She wouldn’t blame Abe if he never spoke to her again, but he had asked Babi to have her meet him at church on Sunday next. She supposed it was the most logical place, and as much as she questioned where God was when she needed Him, she’d enter the church to see Abe.
She wouldn’t break her word to him. Furthermore, as an apology for Father’s harsh words, she would not only report the safety irregularities, but she’d surprise him with a list of workers who would testify against Mr. Berg.
Yuri was already sewing when Millie arrived on the third floor of the factory the next day. The young girl greeted her then resumed stitching.
Millie hoped this day would be different from the last three. Since Monday, Mr. Berg had stood over them and barked out orders like he owned them, all the while spewing his vile cigar smoke into the stuffy air.
Midmorning, Mr. Berg examined the completed garments and scribbled something in the little notebook he kept in his shirt. Well, he wasn’t the only one keeping notes. Millie tapped her pocket and grinned when she anticipated Abe’s reaction. After she added names of workers willing to testify, she’d have the best apology gift she could give him.
Mr. Berg strode to the row of tables forward of Millie’s
work area and stopped in front of a pregnant woman. He stood over her, sucked air through his cigar, and allowed the red ashes to fall to the floor while he waggled his finger and reprimanded her for taking too many trips to the privy. The woman bowed her head and muttered an apology.
A familiar odor assaulted Millie’s nose.
“Fire!” shouted the woman next to Yuri.
Millie jumped to her feet but stood frozen in place.
A man shoved her aside and drenched the flames with a bucketful of water. Two more men followed with a second and third dousing.
She sank to her stool, her heart pounding against her chest.
Mr. Berg roared, “Get back to work or you’ll all be without jobs.”
Like marionettes, workers resumed their duties, except the pregnant woman, who stood agape at the mess beneath her station.
“You, girl.” Mr. Berg pointed at Yuri. “Help her clean the floor.”
Millie gathered her wits about her. Her boots and hemline were sodden from the splash of water, yet her head was dry. The overhead sprinklers had not sprayed even one drop of water.
The lingering smell of charred fabric spurred Millie’s confidence. During the lunch break, she followed the pregnant woman to the washbasin. “I’m sorry Mr. Berg reprimanded you.”
“Thank you for your concern.”
Millie continued, “There’s a movement to report bosses who don’t follow health and safety regulations. Surely a woman heavy with child should be allowed an extra privy break. Would you consider joining the movement and testifying against Mr. Berg?”
The woman held her palm in the air and stepped back. “Stay away from me. I don’t want any more trouble.”
She trudged to a bench where her husband joined her, then cupped her hand over her mouth and leaned into his ear. Even from across the room, Millie could see the scowl on his ruddy face. The woman pointed at her, and before Millie could move, the man sprang to his feet, bounded across the room, and towered over her.
“You’ve scared m’wife.” He lowered his voice, “We don’t want no trouble.”
“I meant no harm.”
He spoke through clenched teeth. “Leave us be or I swear I’ll rat you out.”
“Understood.”
Millie clamped her mouth shut and walked to the benches to join Yuri. She couldn’t be the only factory worker who wished to triumph over the factory bosses. There had to be someone else willing to testify.
After lunch, the hum of sewing machines lulled her into a sort of stupor until Yuri gasped.
Millie jerked her head toward the girl. Yuri had pierced her fingernail with the sewing machine needle and looked as though she’d faint when a red spot blossomed on the gray fabric. Millie scanned the room for Mr. Berg. Seeing no sign of him, she deftly released the broken needle from the machine, pulled the severed portion from Yuri’s finger, and wrapped a scrap of fabric around the girl’s wound.
Yuri shuddered, her words running together and spilling to the floor. “That’s my second warning. If I get three, Mr. Berg will fire me, then how will I support my grandfather and me?”
Millie knew little of Yuri’s circumstances. “Do you live with your grandfather?”
“Yes. He was blinded in a workplace accident.”
“Your father?”
“Dead for three years now.”
“Mother?”
She choked on the words. “Disappeared when I was five.”
“I’ll help you.” Millie pulled the soiled garment from the machine and stuffed it under the table, then replaced the needle with the spare she always carried in her pocket. She did not know how she’d remove the blood, but she had to try. In the meantime, she thrust the trousers from her own machine at Yuri and told her to sew.
Millie stashed the soiled garment under her arm and hurried to the washbasin located at the back of the room near the privy. She was losing time at her machine, but she had to try to save the trousers. She held the bloodstained fabric under the tap while her gaze darted from one corner of the room to the next. Was Mr. Berg on the third floor? She didn’t see him anywhere.
She looked down to appraise the situation. The stain refused to surrender to her scrubbing.
Off her guard, she concentrated solely on the blemish until the odor of cigar smoke seeped into her awareness. She wanted to flee, but Mr. Berg stood not five paces away, feet planted and arms crossed.
“What have we here?”
Millie recoiled and swallowed a lump in her throat. She responded in a voice she didn’t recognize as her own. “I’ve soiled a garment, sir. I’m rinsing it out.”
“Back to your station, girl. Leave the trousers.”
She returned to her machine to sew. Within seconds, Mr. Berg loomed over her. “These are ruined.” He shook the dripping wet fabric in her face. “First warning, and the cost of the garment will be deducted from your pay.” He waggled his finger at her. “At this rate, you’ll owe me money at the end of the day.”
He stomped off, muttering to himself. Millie pursed her lips. Clearly, profit was the only thing Mr. Berg cared about.
Yuri touched her elbow. “Thank you for shouldering the blame. Bless you.”
“We need to stop him, Yuri. He caused a fire today that could’ve ended as badly as the Triangle Factory fire. Do you know he locks the fire escape door? Think of your grandfather. We must promote safety in our workplaces. Will you join me in testifying against Mr. Berg?” She squeezed the girl’s childlike fingers. “It’s our only defense.”
Yuri pulled away. “I’m sorry, Millie.” Her chin quivered. “I’m grateful to you. I just can’t testify.”
Chapter 5
Abe returned to the union hall determined to gather whatever resources he could for the Addario family and to prove to them he was trustworthy. Distracted by Mother’s lie and the notion there might be scores of families who had suffered because of his father, he struggled to focus.
Why had his mother betrayed him? He needed to talk to someone. Sam? Too personal even for his best friend. Mrs. Dunn? He didn’t want her to worry about him. His aunt? Perhaps.
Aunt Iris had informed Mother about his father’s death. At least that’s what Mother had told him. His aunt could be the one person to help him make sense of his mother’s lie. He had to find out the truth, but for now, he needed to compile a list of the Addarios’ needs before his weekly meeting.
Sam entered the office with his usual swagger. “Ask me what I accomplished this morning.”
Abe assumed a poker face. “I hope more than I did.”
“I persuaded the landlord over at the Blanch Tenement Building to move a family into a bigger ground-floor unit at one of his other buildings, for no extra charge.”
“That’s Millie’s building.” Abe scraped his fingers through his hair.
“Millie?”
“Miss Pulnik.”
“Ah. The engaged woman.”
“Not anymore.”
Sam clicked his tongue.
“How can I contact the building owner?” Abe asked. “I’d like to arrange a deal of my own while he’s in the mood.”
Within two hours, an arrangement was in place to move Millie’s family to the ground level at the Blanch Tenements. Her landlord agreed after Abe explained Mr. Pulnik was in a wheelchair and Abe would hire a crew to refurbish the fourth-floor unit. He prayed the move would put Mr. Pulnik in a better humor and soften his manner toward Millie.
By the time Mr. Crane called him into the weekly meeting, Abe was confident he’d be able to coax the boss into maximum support for the Addarios until their health improved and they could go back to work. His mission took on more importance now that he could put faces to his father’s crimes.
Not one for small talk, Mr. Crane announced he’d been in contact with the district attorney’s office and they were ripe to bring indictments against garment factory bosses if there were witnesses to testify. “How many we got?”
Sam said he identifie
d three workers from the cloak maker’s factory, and he knew of at least one infraction of fire code in the building.
“My informant at the Berg Emporium discovered the fire escape door is locked on the third floor,” Abe said, embarrassed he had nothing else to offer.
“Anyone ready to testify?” Mr. Crane asked.
“Our informant, but I haven’t spoken to her since Monday. She might have convinced others.”
Mr. Crane nodded. “Keep gathering evidence and witnesses. We’ll hold off on calling the fire marshal for an inspection. I want a solid case against these guys before we take any action.” He flipped through some papers on his desk. “Have we contacted all the families on our list?”
“Yes, sir,” Sam said.
“The last couple I visited needs food, rent relief, and support for their medical needs,” Abe said. “Neither husband or wife is fit to work.”
“The emergency coffer is nearly gone.” Mr. Crane screwed up his mouth. “We’ll need to divide it between our last two families.”
“I’ll need one more week of food for my family,” Sam said. “The parents and two of the daughters found employment.”
Abe scratched his head. “The Addarios could use everything we can offer and more.”
“The remaining funds will cover a few boxes of provisions. Keep in mind, the union’s main goal is to protect the health and safety of people in their workplace.” Mr. Crane looked him in the eye. “Identifying people to testify is paramount.”
Mr. Crane dismissed Sam and Abe to the outer office. Sam tipped his chair and deposited his heels on the desk. Hands clasped behind his head, he leaned back and closed his eyes.
Abe twisted his shoulders this way and that. Why wasn’t he able to relax the way Sam did? He admired his friend’s ability to get his job done and not carry the burden around. Abe rubbed his temples.
He needed to figure out how to help Mr. and Mrs. Addario. They’d suffered because of his own flesh and blood. He had to make it up to them and prove he wasn’t like his father. How could he tell them there was no more funding available? Considering all they’d lost, if the union couldn’t provide the needed assistance, he had to find the resources to support this couple, even if he had to use his own savings.