The Coal War (2 page)

[2]

Hal took his departure, and hastened to “Perham's Emporium”, where he purchased a complete party outfit for a boy of seven, to be delivered at the Minetti lodgings that evening. And having thus committed himself, Hal called up the pretty Miss Jessie on the telephone and told her about it. He did not say he was preparing an experiment in social amalgamation; he merely reminded her of the cute little Dago mine-urchin, to whose home he had taken her when she had visited North Valley. Now the Minetti family was in Western City, in miserable lodgings, with the father away, ill; and they had had no Christmas at all, and it was a shame; could not Hal bring Little Jerry to the party—especially as he had already invited him, and bought his clothes, and arranged to have him made clean?

Jessie was in a state of dismay. It was difficult to imagine what Little Jerry would look like made clean; it was difficult to imagine him among party-children. “Hal,” she said, “you know Papa's so fussy. And he's terribly cross with you! He talks about it all the time, the way you've behaved, getting mixed up with strikers, and all that!”

“I know, dear,” said Hal. “But it's going to be all right now, for I'm coming to the party, and I'll bring Little Jerry with me, and he's a winner, and your father will be taken captive completely. When he hears what happened to Big Jerry, he'll want to call a strike himself.”

But Jessie was not to be drawn into jesting. “Hal! The child's language!”

“I'm going to see to that, dear. You leave it to me! And by the way, there's somebody else I want to interest in my Dago family—that's Uncle Will. I wonder if you'd ask him to the party?”

“Why, of course, if he'd come.”

“Well, ask him. Tell him to drop in for a few minutes, anyhow. You see, the Minettis are in trouble, and that's the sort of thing Uncle Will lives on.”

So this remarkable experiment in social amalgamation came to a climax. Promptly at two o'clock next day the big maroon-colored touring-car of Hal's father drew up in front of the Minetti home, and Hal climbed the stairs of the lodging-house again, and found Little Jerry waiting at the top, in excitement so intense that it was almost painful to witness. He had wanted to wait at the front door, but Rosa had held him back, for fear of some accident to his wonderful clothes. For two hours the little chap had been arrayed in all his glory, unable to sit still for anxiety. Was it sure Joe Smith was coming? What would they do if he failed to come?

But here at last he was! And he drew the trembling Little Jerry into the room and inspected him; he inspected hands, wrists, ears, eyes, hair. Yes, they were all right! And the clothes were all right, the new grey suit without a crease in it, the snowy collar and silk tie, the black stockings and solid shiny shoes, the thick warm overcoat with cap to match, the shiny brown kid gloves, each with a round gold button! Yes, he was a regular little swell! He would pass at the party for the crown-prince of Italy!

Rosa stood beaming with pride at Hal's praise; sure, he was a fine kid! She came down to the front door with the baby in her arms, and stared in wonder at the monster automobile; the neighbors were staring, also—the windows of the other lodging-houses filled with faces. It was not often that an equipage of that splendor condescended to stop in their street.

Little Jerry got in. He said a weak fare-well to his mother, and then, while the car rolled away, he sat in silence, awe-stricken. He was overwhelmed by that man sitting up so solemn in front, wearing a big coat of fur. Was that the owner of this car? Or was it the gentleman who was giving the party?

[3]

Hal began telling about the place they were going to, and how Little Jerry must behave. He would be polite to Miss Arthur, of course, and to all the ladies at the party; and he must be especially nice to two gentlemen he would meet—one of them the old gentleman, Mr. Arthur, who was giving the party, and the other a middle-aged gentleman, Mr. Wilmerding, who was a particular friend of Hal's. Little Jerry, who was used to strange names among the polyglot hordes at North Valley, pronounced the name very carefully—“Mis-ter Wil-mer-ding”. This gentleman was a priest, Hal went on to explain, but of a sort they did not have either in Italy or in the coal-camps. He was called an Episcopalian; Little Jerry said this name very carefully—“An-ny-pis-co-pa-ling”.

He was a good man, who had been Hal's friend since Hal was a boy like Little Jerry. Hal called him “Uncle Will”, though he was not really Hal's uncle. Now he was distressed because Hal went away and lived with working-people, and got mixed up in strikes like other working people. It was not that Mr. Wilmerding didn't care about such people—it was that he didn't know about them. He had never met a miner in his life, and he used coal to keep his house warm without thinking of the sufferings of those who toiled to dig it out of the ground. Some day Hal intended to take Mr. Wilmerding to meet Big Jerry, and hear what had happened to him—not merely since he had become an organizer for the union, but since he had come to this country, which Mr. Wilmerding thought was a good country, a land of freedom. Little Jerry must watch out, and if he got a chance, must tell this gentleman something about the lives of coal miners.

It was almost the same with Mr. Arthur, Hal went on. Mr. Arthur was a very rich man, and a lot of people thought he must be a selfish man, but it wasn't really so—it was just that he didn't know. He was cross with Hal because he wanted Hal to stay at home like other rich men's sons, and not go off stirring up the working-people and making trouble for the owners of mines. Mr. Arthur was a friend of Mr. Peter Harrigan, who owned the General Fuel Company, and was making fortunes out of the misery of the people in the coal-camps; but Mr. Arthur had no real idea about the way Mr. Harrigan ran his mines—he actually thought that miners were men who wanted to loaf and get drunk, and had to be driven and made to obey their masters. Little Jerry would be helping the union if he would tell this old gentleman a little of the truth. “You know what I mean,” said Hal.

“Sure, I know!” replied Little Jerry. And a calm, firm resolution took possession of his bosom. In early life he had meant to be a shot-firer, that had seemed to him the highest destiny of man; but recently a new vista had opened, to be a union organizer, a teacher of working-class solidarity—and here was the first step to that thrilling career!

There was one thing more, Hal said; Little Jerry must be extra careful not to swear. The people he was to meet were different from mining-camp people in this respect, they had peculiar notions about the most every-day cuss-words. Had Little Jerry ever heard the story of the beautiful young lady who was bewitched, so that every time she opened her mouth there hopped out a toad or a snake? Well, that was the way these people at the party would feel about the simplest “damn”. Little Jerry must be very, very careful.

“You won't forget?” said Hal.

“Hell, no!” answered Little Jerry.

So Hal had to explain in detail just what he meant by “cuss-words”. Perhaps the safest way would be for Little Jerry to say his exclamations in Italian; then nobody at the party would understand. Of course, he must shake hands politely with everyone he was introduced to; and when he was given things to eat, he must eat carefully, and not spill things on his fine new suit, nor on his host's carpets or chairs.

“Sure, I know that!” said Little Jerry, reassuringly.

“And you'll remember the old gentleman's name—Mr. Arthur.”

“Sure, I got it. Mr. Otter.”

And then, Hal's instructions being completed, the floodgates of Dago questions rolled open! Was it a very big house? As big as the superintendent's at North Valley? And the pretty Miss Otter lived there? When she and Hal got married, would
he
live there? And this ottermobile? Did it belong to Hal? How much did it cost? Would it go very fast? Could Hal ride in it all he wanted to? Holy Smoke! (That wasn't swearing, was it?)

[4]

The car had passed the limits of the city, and following a great boulevard along the slope of the mountains, came at last to the Arthur home. A blanket of snow lay over the grounds, but one could see that they were vast and amazing. There were whole rows of ottermobiles drawn up along the drive. Did everybody come to this party in an ottermobile? Why did they have so many different kinds?

The car stopped in front of the door; and there was a man in short pants to open the door for them. Little Jerry had never seen a grown man in short pants before; he would have thought it was a play—only he had never been to a play!

He got out, holding tightly to Hal's hand, as they approached a bronze-barred doorway which was like a jail. Little Jerry knew about jails; they had one at North Valley, and Little Jerry had seen his friend, “Joe Smith”, looking out through the bars of it.

But these impressions came so quickly, that the Dago mine-urchin had scarcely time to realize them. The bronze doors swung back—and there was a vast, mysterious apartment, with something that smote Little Jerry's eyes, so that he stopped and stared, paralyzed. The Christmas tree!

The entrance hall of the Arthur home went up all the way to the roof; and in this tall place the Christmas tree towered, enormous, awe-inspiring as cathedral arches. It gleamed with a thousand tiny electric lights—green, red, blue, yellow, purple. It shone with something like snow, it sparkled with something like jewels. A score of kinds of fruits grew red and yellow on it, fairies and goblins and angels danced about in its branches, mysteries beyond counting peered from its coverts. And beneath it stood a strange and awful figure, a man in a long gown of white furry stuff trimmed with red, with a white furry hat trimmed with red, and a white beard all the way to his waist. There was only one thing Little Jerry could think of—Hal had brought him to heaven, and this mysterious personage was God!

The Dago mine-urchin had been able to take care of himself in all emergencies which had hitherto arisen in his life. Standing upon the cinder-heaps of the village of North Valley, his voice had been as loud, and his fists as hard, and his cuss-words as prompt and powerful as any boy's. But here was something new and appalling, depriving him utterly of his
savoir faire
. He forgot his wonderful clothes, he forgot his role as heir apparent to the throne of Italy, he even forgot his duties as organizer of the United Mine Workers. He stood, clutching Hal's hand, his mouth open.

When Hal started him across the room, he walked like a mechanical toy. Everything about this place was bewildering: the carpets under his feet, which were like soft grass; the chairs, which were like feather-beds when you sat in them; the dim lights, the softly shining furniture, the pictures, which were not like other pictures, but were realities magically brought and transferred to the walls. In one corner stood a giant of a man, all steel, with a steel head and a spike on top, and a steel hand with a long and deadly spear. Yet Hal seemed to go near this creature without heeding him. If the old man under the Christmas tree was God, Little Jerry could only think that the one with the spear must be the devil!

There came the pretty young lady to welcome them—the one who had been in North Valley. Her eyes were soft brown, and her hair was the color of molasses-taffy when you've pulled it—but all fluffy and wonderful, with stardust in it. She was clad in something soft and filmy, snow-white, with ribbons of olive-green, and a dream-like scarf of olive-green about her shoulders. She shook Little Jerry's hand, but his lips were stiff, and his tongue was a lump in his mouth—he could not speak to such a vision of loveliness!

There came children to be introduced; the room was full of children, Little Jerry began to realize, and all having been scrubbed like him. Yes, Joe Smith was right, they had sweet smells, they looked like fairy-tale children! The little girls had bright red cheeks, and hair all curls, and dresses of white and pink and blue and yellow—like they had just stepped out of store-windows. When one was introduced to them, they bobbed down on one knee in a funny way; Little Jerry felt like a lost soul, he did not know anything about knee-bobbing. He recalled Joe's statement that he might have to kiss these little girls, and consternation possessed him.

Miss Otter was very nice to him. She introduced him to another Miss Otter, who was her elder sister, and to several more Miss Otters, who were her cousins, and to a nice, stout, smiling old Mrs. Otter, her mother. All these people had heard that a little boy from a mining-camp was coming to the party, and they did everything they could to make him at home; they asked him questions, and took him about and showed him the Christmas tree at close range, and explained to him that the old gentleman with the white beard was not God, but that other important personage who brought presents to little boys at Christmas time. When the ladies learned that he had not brought anything to Little Jerry, they were surprised, and said that they would call his attention to the oversight. They gave Little Jerry some fine candy, which made him feel more at ease, and they introduced him to other little boys, who said Hello, just like boys who did not live in heaven. So gradually the Dago mine-urchin found himself, and recalled his duties as an organizer!

[5]

Yes, for the time was at hand for the organizer to get on his job. Joe Smith came up, and pointed out a round-faced old gentleman with flat white side-whiskers, sitting in a big black leather chair; that was Mr. Otter, and Little Jerry must be introduced to him. They walked over; and the old gentleman smiled, and took Little Jerry's hard, rough hand in his soft, pink hand, and said, “So you live in a mining-camp, little man!”

Which, obviously, made it easy for the organizer to get down to business. “Naw,” said Little Jerry. “I used ter, but they throwed us out.”

“Is that so?” said Mr. Otter.

“Sure thing!” said Little Jerry. “They don't let no union men stay in them camps, you bet!”