For the Love of Mike (14 page)

Jacob nodded his head gravely. So did the others at the top table. “We can do nothing without solidarity,” another man at the top table said. He looked more like a student, with straggly beard and Russian worker’s cap on his head. “I represent the cloak-makers union, and we have had some small successes with strikes in the past. But only if we get one hundred percent participation. All for one, one for all. We cannot hurt them until we are united. If there is to be a walkout, then all must walk out.”

“If we walk out, then they just hire new girls,” Rose said.

“If the walkout is only at one shop,” the straggly young man agreed. “If all shops walk out at the same time, then they have a problem.”

“It will never happen,” a voice behind me said.

“We have to let them see that it can happen,” the slender young woman at the top table said. “Maybe there will have to be some sacrifices, but we must let the owners see that we are prepared to strike and lose our jobs if we want progress.”

“Begging your pardon, miss.” A girl with a luxuriant coil of hair, wound around her head like a halo, rose to her feet. “But you keep on saying ‘we’ and ‘us.’ It won’t be you who loses your job. You have a nice house uptown to go home to after these meetings. I know you mean well, but you can’t know what it’s like to live in a stinking tenement and never have enough to eat.”

The girl at the top table flushed, then nodded gravely. “You’re right. I can’t know exactly what it’s like for you, but I do have some experience with confronting the enemy when it comes to the suffrage movement. I have been to jail twice, and believe me, I was not treated like a lady there. There are many of us, all of good families, willing to go to jail, to make nuisances of ourselves, if we can obtain the right to vote for our sisters.”

There was scattered applause from the audience. The young woman from uptown bowed her head again. “But I admit that I know I will have a home to go to and food on the table when I am let out of jail. I know you will be asked to make enormous sacrifices, but somebody has to, or nothing will ever improve. Every generation of immigrants who steps off the boat will go into conditions like the ones you are enduring right now.”

“So what can we do?” Rose asked.

“You must recruit members where you work,” Jacob said. “Plant seeds in the minds of your fellow workers that you can change things, that you can make your employers fear you. I know that for many of you the busy season is approaching—the rush to get items into the stores for the holiday shopping and then the new spring lines after the January sales. This is when the shops make their biggest profit. If you walk out now, you will cost them valuable time while they find and train replacements. Maybe they are not so willing to lose that time. Maybe they are willing to negotiate.”

Rose looked at me, her eyes shining. “It might just work, Molly. If we walked out the moment Lowenstein wanted us to start on the new designs, maybe he would listen.”

“It’s worth a try,” I said.

Rose got to her feet. “We are willing to try. Mr. Lowenstein prides himself on getting his garments into the store first. Maybe this will be a way for us to make him listen.”

“Good for you, Rose,” the dark girl at the table said. “Do you have someone to work with you?”

“I have Molly,” Rose said. “She has just arrived from Ireland. Stand up, Molly, and let them see you.”

I rose to my feet.

“Two redheads,
oy vay
,” someone near me said. “I pity poor Mr. Lowenstein.”

There was good-natured laughter.

The meeting progressed. It was decided that Lowenstein’s should be a test case. We would try to bring all of the girls into the union so that we could conduct an effective walkout the moment the new designs were produced. I knew better than any of them that this might work. Lowenstein counted on getting his stolen designs into the stores before Mostel had his ready. If he couldn’t corner the market first, then he would lose. A good bargaining tool indeed.

When the meeting concluded, refreshments were served—cookies and hot tea and a big plate of sandwiches. The girls fell upon them with gusto. I took a cup of tea, then joined a group of girls.

“So you’re from Ireland, are you, Molly?”

I agreed that I was. “And I understand that there was another Irish girl here not too long ago? Didn’t you say so, Rose? By the name of Kathy?”

“Kathy? But surely she was English,” one of the girls said.

“I thought someone said she was from an upper-class English family, only she lived in Ireland.”

“I don’t think she ever said where she was from, did she?” The girls looked at each other.

“No, very tight-lipped about herself, she was. But outspoken when it came to union matters. You should have heard her talk. My, but she could have talked the hind leg off a donkey.”

“Remember you told her that, Fanny? And she laughed and said something about being good at blarney, whatever that means.”

“Too bad she stopped coming to meetings.”

“So where did she go?” I asked. “Did she move away?”

The girls looked at each other and shrugged.

“I don’t know what happened to her,” one said.

“Which company did she work for?”

Again the girls shrugged. “She only came a few times, then she stopped. Too bad because I’d have loved to hear her tell those bosses what she thought of them. Real haughty she was, and kind of looked down her nose when she spoke to you.”

“Did she have light brown, sort of wispy hair and very light eyes?” I asked.

“Yes, did you know her?”

“I thought she might have been a friend from back home,” I said.

“So you just arrived from Ireland, did you?”

“That’s right.” As I said it, I found myself looking at the upper-crust young lady from the top table. She was standing with a sandwich in her hand, staring hard at me. Then she put down the plate and came straight toward me. “Now I know where I saw you before,” she said coldly. “What exactly are you doing here?”

Fourteen

“
W
hat do you mean?” I asked.

“You’re not one of us,” she said. “So what are you doing here? Spying for the bosses, perchance?”

“Of course not,” I said angrily. “What on earth makes you say something like that? I’m from Lowenstein’s, with Rose. Ask her.”

Then suddenly I remembered where I had seen her before. She had worn her hair differently, and the light had been dim, but I had once sat across a table from her in a Greenwich Village café, at a meeting of anarchists that had almost cost me my life.

“And I could ask you the same question,” I said to her. “The last time I saw you, you were plotting to bring down the government at an anarchists’ meeting with Miss Emma Goldman.”

“Not I. I am a socialist, not an anarchist, Miss Murphy. I was there to support Emma Goldman because she represents change—empowerment of the masses, birth control. Anything that can improve the condition of women—that is my personal quest.”

“Then you and I have no quarrel,” I said. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

“It’s Nell,” she said. “Nell Blankenship.”

I held out my hand. “We are on the same side, Miss Blankenship, both working to right injustices.”

She took my hand reluctantly, but still looked at me quizzically. “And is your name really Molly Murphy, fresh off the boat from Ireland?”

I decided to take a gamble.

“If I could have a private word, then some things would become clear.”

“Very well.” She moved away from the crowd around the food table to the far corner of the room.

“You are right that I am not really a garment worker,” I said in a low voice, even though the other occupants of the room paid no attention to us. “I am actually a private investigator.”

“An investigator—is that not the same as a spy?” she asked, still frowning at me. “Were you not spying at Emma’s meeting? You clearly were not in sympathy with our cause.”

“I came to your meeting with Ryan O’Hare,” I said. “He insisted that I meet Emma Goldman.”

“And that was your only reason for being there?”

“No, not my only reason,” I said. “When you met me before I was on the trail of the man who killed my employer. I caught up with him, only too late.”

She looked at me quizzically again. “A lady detective,” she said. “I didn’t realize that such things existed. The only question is for whom are you working this time? The sweatshop owners, so that all this will be reported back to them?”

“Of course not,” I said angrily.

“Then why throw yourself into a cause that is clearly not your own?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” I said, staring her down. “You are not a garment worker either. Why waste your time on the lower classes when you could be dining at Delmonico’s?”

“Precisely because I have the luxury of time,” she said. “These girls are ill equipped to speak for themselves. If I can make their lot better, I shall have accomplished something worthwhile. This and getting the vote for my sisters—these have become my life’s work.”

“Then I commend you, Miss Blankenship,” I said.

“And I hope I can equally commend you, Miss Murphy.” She still didn’t smile.

At that moment a shadow fell between us. Jacob Singer, the young man in the wire-rimmed spectacles, approached with a plate of cookies. “Are you bullying our newest recruit, Nell?” he said, giving me a friendly smile. “I am Jacob Singer and we have not been introduced yet.”

“How do you do, I’m Molly Murphy,” I said.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Murphy.” He clicked his heels and gave a little bow in a charmingly foreign fashion. “I hope Nell was not putting you through a grilling? She can become a little too passionate about her causes, I’m afraid.” He chuckled. Nell didn’t return his smile.

“Just sounding her out, Jacob,” Nell said. “Just trying to find out whose side she is on, because she is not a garment worker fresh from Ireland. She is a lady detective—so beware what you say.”

“A detective?” he looked at me with concern. “Not a garment worker then?”

I looked around to see who was within hearing distance. “I took on a job that necessitated my posing as a sweatshop girl. While working under such conditions, I decided I could not sit idly by. That’s one of the reasons I’m here tonight. I want to help.”

“Excellent,” Jacob said. “Just the sort of recruit we need, wouldn’t you say, Nell?”

Nell looked at him, then at me. “Perhaps I owe you an apology, Miss Murphy.”

“But I’m also here for another reason.” I looked around again, then moved closer to them. “The English girl called Kathy you heard me asking about earlier. I have been asked to trace such a girl by her family in Ireland. This Kathy sounds very much like the Katherine I was asked to find.”

“I don’t think anyone knows where she is now,” Nell said. “She came to meetings for several weeks and seemed fired up with enthusiasm. We were hopeful that she would be a real force for change because she was so articulate and unafraid to speak her mind. Then one week she didn’t come.”

“I’m afraid I might know where she is now,” I said. “A body, resembling her description, was pulled from the East River.”

“Oh no. A victim of foul play?” she asked.

“The police are of the opinion that this girl took her own life.”

Nell shook her head. “Then it is not the same person. Kathy would not have given in to despair any more than you or I would have done.”

“My feelings exactly,” I said. “I never met her, but the face in the photograph I have is not of a weak character.”

“You have a photograph? Then I can verify that it is the same person.”

“I don’t have it with me,” I said. “And I don’t know if there is any point in taking this matter any further. If she is dead, then I can’t bring her back to life again.”

“But if she is dead, then someone is responsible and should be brought to justice,” Nell said.

It was strange to hear my own sentiments echoed back to me. “I agree. But I am not the police. I have so little to go on and no way of investigating further.”

“You could be of help, Nell,” Jacob said. He turned to me. “Nell is a reporter by profession. She writes articles for the major newspapers to expose the corruption and abuse in this city. She has made some useful contacts in many strata of this city. And this is just the sort of challenge you enjoy, is it not, Nell?”

I sensed that Nell was not really inclined to put herself out on my behalf, that she still had not warmed to me, but that she didn’t want to turn me down in front of Jacob. “I suppose I might be of some help, it is true,” she said.

“Splendid.” Jacob smiled at me again. “Then why don’t we continue this conversation at another time? Where do you live, Miss Murphy?”

“Patchin Place.”

Finally Nell looked interested. “Patchin Place. How extraordinary. I have friends there. Do you know two delightful women called—”

“Sid and Gus?” I asked. “I lived with them until a week ago. Now I have taken up residence across the street.”

“What an amazing coincidence. I should most like to renew their acquaintance,” she said. “Tomorrow then?”

I shook my head. “You forget. I am employed in a sweatshop from dawn until night and have little energy for good conversation afterward. How about Saturday night? I don’t have to rise early on Sunday morning.”

“Saturday it is then.”

“Am I to be included in the invitation?” Jacob asked. “Perhaps I may also be of use in your inquiry.”

“Of course you are most welcome, Mr. Singer.”

He bowed again. “I shall look forward to it then.”

“Miss Blankenship? Could you come over here for moment? Bella has a question for you.” One of the girls approached Nell hesitantly.

“Of course,” Nell said. “Excuse me.”

I was left alone with Jacob Singer. “Have you had a cup of tea, Miss Murphy? Or one of these cookies?” He held out the tray to me. I took one.

“I’ve never been known to turn down a cookie,” I said. “Or a biscuit as we say in Ireland, where they were luxuries reserved for special occasions.”

“One of the best things about America, wouldn’t you say? We didn’t even have such luxuries at home in Russia. Sugar was kept hidden away in a little wooden box for special occasions.”

His eyes, ringed by those wire spectacles, lit up with amusement. Such a pleasant face. Quite a handsome face too.

“I am very glad that you’ll be joining us,” he said. “As you can see, we need all the help we can get.”

“Are you involved in the garment industry yourself, Mr. Singer?” I asked.

“He is involved in no particular industry,” Nell said, coming back to join us and slipping an arm through his. “He is a professional rabble-rouser.”

Jacob Singer laughed. “I am employed by the United Hebrew Trades to help fledgling unions get off the ground. I was active in the Bund before I left Russia, so I have experience in civil disobedience to share. But you must excuse me, you probably have not even heard of the Bund.”

“Oh but I have,” I said. “Rose’s brother was a member. He was executed.”

Jacob nodded. “An all too common fate, I’m afraid. That or Siberia, which was often a death sentence in itself. I had to flee for my life when they came for us. I escaped by swimming across an ice-filled river. Not a pleasant experience, I can assure you.”

“How terrible. I’ve heard so many tragic stories.”

“But your country is no stranger to tragedy either,” Jacob said. “How many of your countrymen died in the great famine?”

“That’s true enough. Everyone in our village had a story of lost relatives, including my own family. Apart from my father and my brothers I don’t think I’ve a living relative in the world.”

“Then we are united in a struggle to make things better, are we not?” He smiled at me. His eyes held mine. I flushed and looked away.

“Jacob is a photographer, as well as being a rabble-rouser,” Nell said. “He and I work together. I fish out the facts, he takes the pictures. Together we have been into the most disreputable parts of the city.”

“Then I am indeed fortunate to have met both of you,” I said. “I can’t tell you how much it riles me to have to abandon my search for Katherine.”

“Let us hope you will not have to abandon it,” Jacob said. “If Nell recognizes your photograph, then we can start to trace what happened to this unfortunate Katherine. All will be made clear on Saturday.”

“And in the meantime,” I said in a low voice, “please don’t give away that I am not just an ordinary sweatshop girl. I am with them heart and soul in this struggle and I fear they would not trust me if they knew I was not really one of them.”

“You can count on us to say nothing,” Jacob said and glanced across at Nell for agreement. Her face remained impassive.

“At what time do you expect us on Saturday?” she asked.

“Shall we say eight? We are supposed to leave work at six on Saturday, as a special gesture of beneficence.”

Jacob laughed. “She has the Irish gift of the gab, does she not? I am so glad that your investigation brought our paths to cross, Miss Murphy.”

“Eight o’clock on Saturday then,” Nell said. “That will work out splendidly. We’ll have time to go to the opening of that art exhibition first, Jacob. Are we done here, do you think? I am suddenly tired and would like you to walk me home.” She had her arm through his and she steered him away from me, toward the door.

They must be sweethearts, I thought, and was surprised at the rush of disappointment that I felt.

“I wondered where you’d got to, Molly. Have you tried these little cakes yet?” Rose took my arm and dragged me back to the group at the table.