IN A DYING VOCATION

My next hit-of-run occupation was in a fur-dyeing establishment on a top-floor in a rickety fire-trap where the boss showed me how to dip fur tails from squirrels and other skunks in a tub of black fluid. It certainly was fast-colored for after I left that job my finger-nails were black for coming months and I had to wait until it was outgrown.

A LADY'S PRESSER

Once I had a smell of printer's ink I followed its trail. I looked in the morning papers and soon found myself inside of another print-shop where they made sample display cards.

An ambitious young man, he had the entire family helping him climb the ladder of success. His mother, an elderly matron, was stock, stock cutter and though the machine was operated by power the tightening of the stock had to be manipulated by hand. It was too much of a brawny job for a woman to stand for hours at that wheel so it fell to my lot to relieve her of that task and overtake the pressing function of that matron. She was a woman of command and urged me on to make it tighter and tighter.--Skveeze it a leetle more, a leetle more"--she would goad me on.

I wouldn't say I enjoyed that work very much but--little-by-little, I approached the presses which was my air in order to get into the trade. I worked on the foot-presses alternating to the belt-drawn machines eventually picking up nacks of the trade.

8

BETWEEN THICK AND THIN

Gradually I was prolitarianized and the shop was my destiny. The small wage I received was shared between the house and myself and we barely got along. The house of roomers dwindled to one faithful Yankel but whose loyalty was motivated by a selfish liking for sister, Ida. She was just entering her teens and we needed every bit of support we could get so she got a "job" too, though with her three dollars the pot was not full. Mother like a brave captain always weathered the wind. If the resistance was too strong on one point we'd steer her ship in a different latitude but always sailed ahead. And so in one of her pinches she opened a vegetable store in a subcellar on Monroe Street, dragging bushels of potatoes and onions from the depth of the earth to the surface never heeding her strained innards so long she could make the ends meet. But that was no lasting vocation for a weak person so she had to give that up but soon enough was engaged as a care-taker in a tenement house on Cannon Street. We moved to that quarter, right near the bridge where the din of the trains and noisy traffic sounded like cannon roar (being fitting of the street name) but we were ensconced for the moment. Yankel, like a good faithful friend went along with us sharing a bed with another landsman. On the same floor there lived a young Hungarian woman--peaches and cream. Her husband was a busy cap-maker. She was of the vivacious attractive type. Yankel was a steady frequenter in that apartment and I assumed that lady kept him tied to us so staunch being so near the courtesan's arms.

THE INQUISITIVE LANDLORD

Mr. Orchik was the lord of that house. An old gentleman with a high topper, holding that distinction, as I presume following many more such tenement traps all over the East Side. He used to call on certain days to collect the collected rents mother had on hand, visit by way of greeting the Hungarian tenant and disappear in a chauffeured car. It happened once that mother tripped on the stairs and hurt the lower part of her back. She was laid up for several days and Mr. Orchik called to extend sympathy. But he insisted on seeing with his naked eyes (took off his spectacles) the bare spot where she was hurt. As lord and master of the domain, his wish could not be refused but as I learned later he did not survive the shock. Curiosity killed the cat.

9

WITH TIME ON HAND

Moving about seemed to be a necessity and recreation with us and Jackson Park was the axis around which we centered. Once again we moved to Jackson Street opposite from where we lived before and a stone's throw from the pier. That corner of the East Side was well frequented in the summer time for its cooling breezes from the river when big and small stretched out on the bare patches of grass in the park or rocked on the barges that were marooned against the dock. If those places were filled, I would lie on a truck stationed against the wharf and watch the lights shimmering from across in the Navy Yard or gaze at the moon twisting forth furtive eyes. On Mondays and Thursdays the air turned the skimpy twigs with blaring of cornets and fifes from a consumptive band while the Nellies and Sandys, still chugging to the water-front were whistling and gamboling to the tune of popular song. Several bath-houses were rocking on the rippling waves and there I refreshed myself on sweltering days, getting a wash down at the same time, together with a swim in that 2x4 crowded pool. That pier was also a convenient outlet, at the summer's close, for the shaking off of unwelcome sins from Hebrew coat-tails. Those transgressions, if not too burdensome would float on the surface of the river until the barges would dredge it down or else the waves would wash it away to the high seas.

HESTER PARK

Equal in importance to Jackson Park was the square patch on Hester Street, though barren of any sign of verdure it was a boulevard for young and old.

There was a play-ground which drew forth all the kiddies from the neighborhood while a gymnasium attracted all the sports from town. That was a hatchery for acrobats, strong musclemen and the like. Many of the present day big shots and of bygone days, like pugilists, gangsters trained their muscles on those grounds. Many of the expert pocket-pickers learned their profession in that park on snoozing bench occupants.

Having had a little more leisure time on hand than while plying my news-paper trade, like Saturday afternoons and Sundays or holidays, I often hang about that musclery trying to expand my chest or improve on my muscles; so I swung on the rings like a chimpanzee and raised my carcass on the muscling bars and jumped the horse though of little avail. I swallowed my sports like castor oil. Not having a bath in our living quarters I often availed myself of the shower baths in that park and that was a refreshment and purging.

OTHER RECREATIONS

Another sport I was drawn in was bicycle riding. At that time it was a hobby and a craze. There was a net of stores all over the East Side where you could rent a "wheel" at 10 cents per hour, with breaks--a nickel more! To have your own, you had to have space where to keep it something precious in a tenement. Besides you had to be rich to own one. So many a twilight I rolled on the pavements when autocars were few. (Thirty years ago when an auto passed on the East Side the kids would yell after it: Get a horse and passing horses had respect for a fly on a half-cart.

MUSIC IN MY EARS

I often noticed that music affected me, one way or another, consciously. Little wonder. Wasn't my grandfather a trombonist? Its in the blood. And wasn't father banging and clanging with rhythmic hammers on tin utensils that resounded with xylophonic chimes while he raised his voice in tune on some cantoral chant. It all played up in me and I'm surprised I didn't spring up as some musical genius at least be in the musical profession. Alas poverty--thou art to blame for the loss of heaven knows what. But music was in me and not only that, I had to make it. So I bought a Zither in the nearest pawn shop and quietly picked on the brass strings heart picking notes of Home Sweet Home, while the cats gamboled on the roof tops. Not content with the quiet melody picked with my thumb-nail, I bought an accordion at a bargain price and by force and coercion, I strained enough harmony out of it to becalm my lyrical soul. In time I mastered it quite well (so say I) and played all the folk-songs I heard the foreign janitors sing in the neighborhood also Yiddish melodies. Later I developed into--but that's later.

10

SHOP WORN

I was in the grind. Wearied of one shop, I changed to another shop though' with little success as I never really was interested in my work. I worked from need-not for need of work. Somehow I missed my vocation but always worked conscientiously therefore was never refused a second turn in the same place.

A GOVERNMENT JOB

Generally I shifted a job in a day. I just looked in the Morning World and all I had to do was to "pick" it out-- the nearest, the choicest, the best paid and so forth. Or else I'd call on my former places and I'd get reemployment.

On one jaunt on a snowy morn I missed the day, with another buddy and we occupied a bench in City Hall Park opposite the Post Office when suddenly we heard a call from the inner sanctum--hey, fellahs yah wan a job? A sucker I'd be if I wouldn't-Come on, clean off this platform. Here's a shock. As an outdoor change from the stuffy enclosures that was fun and recreation, so we cleaned off the block-long platform from a coat of snow and earned our dollar by way of cleanest play.

11

PLEASANT HOURS

The decrease of the 60 hour week to 45 hours was a boon and the spare time was no problem at spending it. John, the singing Wop--as he was called, was my chum and whenever a spare six-shilling were jingling in our pockets we would climb the heights of Metropolitan Opera House and listen to the top notes of Caruso, Tetrazzini et al with John's interpretation and comments. Sitting or standing away up at the pit, the trills and coloraturas of the singing birds would roll up against the ceiling and it was our aesthetic joy to watch its resonance bounce from on high. My poor accordion was the next suffering object being compelled to yield by coercion some of the operatic tunes I imbibed in the Melody Temple.

Many a Saturday matinee I spent in the Jewish theaters watching Thomashefsky? impress his female patroness by his tight breeches and heroic gait. He was the burlesque comedian appealing to the male gender. With a bag of peanuts and twenty five cents admission I enjoyed an afternoon.

Then there were other stars that shone on other stages. To see Kessler, Madame Liptzin, Kalish and the patriarchal Jacob Adler was an artistic treat which I enjoyed immensely. They took their roles earnestly and were applauded with a glad hand.

On Friday nights, I was a steady patron of The Liberal Art Society's meetings. That was a one man's society conducted by Platon Brounoff--a lion-head with squinting eyes, resembling Anton Rubinstein, the great composer and boasted of having been the latter's pupil. He arranged lectures and debates of interest intermingled with artistic entertainment. Mr. B. giving the rendition of the piano accompanied by his roaring basso. For fifteen cents I had three hours of intellectual and spiritual atmosphere and enough problems to ponder over the rest of the week. That's a bargain, isn't it?

Sunday nights often found me in Cooper Union for more lectures. I found the gap in my education so large that I tried to fill it partly with chaff from the knowing. Femininity, for better or for worse, did not seem to play a part in my teens. Only in the late twenties, my emotions were nabbed and became a subject of sex appeal.

I wasted (?) my time on Yiddish literature, on social questions, neglecting my material self and well-being. But I lived spiritually. There was a bit of the artist in me craving for applause. So I learned to read and recite in public and my services were rather sought for. That gave me satisfaction and inner content.

12

VACATIONING

In all my years of toil I never had a rest. Always slaving, hustling and scurrying. When on the job I'd ponder on my low station; if off the job I was too anxious to fall in the grind. For the House of Heifech, as topply as it stood, still rested on my weak shoulders. Mother too often fell under the strain and has lain in bed for days either with aching heart or painful side. (At one time she had an operation for appendicitis and while recuperating I brought her a bottle of cognac which she remembered all her life; which proves that a little consideration is favored big in the human heart--but that's just a little ostentation to show (off) what a good son I was). Little wonder that I was run down and that was an excuse for a little vacation within all that care and toil.

The change from the bleak East Side to the verdant mountains was invigorating. For the first time since my departure from the other side did I see a mewing cow and a crowing rooster; laid on a stack of hay and bathed for hours in the sun. Besides losing fourteen cents in cards, no other thrills fell to my lot and I returned after two weeks roving back to my job rather refreshed but not content at heart for engaging in non-delectable pursuits.

And so Father Time pulled me into the twenties and lulled me into stagnancy.

A VACATION WITH A TURN

Another year rolled by and I was the same hackney: Making ready and feeding the printing presses with my thoughts roaming everywhere but on my work. I often wonder what kind providence spared my limbs from injury while tackling those machines with such perfect absence of mind. I was an integral part of a mechanical golom.

The hours sunk in the hands of the clock and the days dimmed in the shabby skylights. The weeks were condensed into a measly pay-envelope and the months were a conglomeration of so many tedious days in a stuffy work house. We were accustomed to all that. In all those years we didn't hear nor care about fathers whereabouts so long we were in ignorance of his existence. But one day we received word that he was in the city of Toronto in the Land of Canada living in prosperity while we struggled for a bare living. Once my curiosity was aroused I came in touch with him by mail which led me further to take leave for a vacation and I departed for the borderland. Upon arriving in the provincial town I found my parent in a state of unrest. His second marital venture brought him discord, unhappiness and heartache.

Several times he built up a prosperous business and at its peak he had to disrupt it because of disharmony with his headlong mate. He possessed realty and capital but everything blew up at one time or another. The tie that held them together was two little girls attached to him as strong as to their mother. For their sake he patched up differences and started life alternately anew. Upon my arrival, father was on one of those periodic "outs" lingering around his sisters home, broke and despondent. But his name was an asset and his credit sound so he opened a tinsmith shop and for the sake of a peaceful environment to surround my presence, he ironed out differences and returned to his turbulent hive.

A STONE PIPE SALESMAN

Previously he had a hardware store for the 'nth time which he sold for a song to spite his belligerent wife. Naturally on his new entry into business he had to whistle his own tune. He chose the whistle of the wind through the chimney tops. A hard worker all his life he chose in the autumn of that year to supply stove-pipes for the town--stove-pipes for coal stoves, chimney pipes for furnaces; the sun, the moon and stove-pipes. The whole world was nested with pipings to be sold very cheap on the market. So we had to go out canvassing, soliciting selling and so through department stores and small shops out tubular wares spread over town and brought warmth and comfort to a shivering community. Besides selling, I had to attend to deliveries. Often, in a biting frost, I had to rock a wagonful of pipes while a lazy mare was counting its hoof beats and ignored my persistent pulls at the leads. Father rolled and hammered tin sheets from morn till late of night finding satisfaction in forgetfulness of an inharmonious life.

The seasonal hubbub came to a close and instead of content there was a vacuum in my soul. Primarily I went there for a vacation and an observation tour and there I was drawn into employment and care not to my heart and taste. Leaving mother and sister behind on a billowy sea while I was lingering in an uncongenial atmosphere, stung my sub consciousness and I was in a state of unrest. My inner self demanded some sore of an attraction for father to return to the original fold which proved successful later, but in those days I only saw vague possibilities. On the other hand, father perceived my restlessness and tried to entangle me with a maiden fair, which was quite to my liking but the fraulein seemed to consider my wallet too consumptive for her serious attention and lofty aspirations. So the affair ended right there and then and finding myself unhomely in a strange city I packed my measly valise and returned to the States.

BACK TO THE GHETTO

Away rattled the N.Y. trailer from the Torontonian station with my humble self rather sullen and defected soaring over vale and dale and mountain hills, speeding to the one congested corner where thousands eagerly desire for a chance to escape. Strange as it may seem, the ride on the Bowery Elly taking me homeward seemed so homey and the banging and clanging on the elevated rails was music to my ears so long as it took me to my suffering mother and welcoming sister. I fell unexpectedly on mothers shoulders that were trembling with anxiety and joy over my surprise arrival and admonition for my frailty and Once again I returned to the ink and paper wares bedecking some with a coating of dry words so necessary in our commercial contact. And so I settled in the old rut of obligation and routine extracting now and then a moment of relaxation enough to ponder over a monotonous eternity.

CHAPTER IV

REUNION

I

REHABILITATION

The visit to the tigress'lair was highly provocative and peace generally was against her grain. Quarrel, strife and dissension was in her make up and upon my leave a final spell broke out which ended all spells, for better or for worse to all concerned. Like a wild beast casting off her burdensome brood she threw her eldest waif on her males seeming helplessness. But father developed a coat of armour ready to weather all emergencies. He wrote me of his predicament and I advised him to come to New York.

A permanent separation was arranged in the Kings Lend and a nuptial reunion was tied in these U.S. and so father became once again a prospective citizen with mother having gotten a big-eyed, round-faced stubborn but good-at-heart adopted daughter. She tried her very best to tame, manage and win the child's love which she very well succeeded in, as it proved in later years.

Father, with characteristic energy, opened a little shop on Jackson Street plying brass antics (antiques?) for Allen Street which is the center of that trade. A meager start from a lofty descent but content and gratified for the peace of mind he enjoyed. As for myself, I considered that a main chapter in our lives. First, it relieved mother of drudgery and care of a livelihood and so she could spend a little more time at the "dispensaries" though the care of her new daughter kept her well occupied. And secondly it removed my shoulders from the responsibilities of a household thus giving me more freedom in my bachelor hood.

CELEBRATING

The family increasing, we had to enlarge our quarters so we moved to a three-room flat on Goerck Street, the sun just winking from the distance. In order to commemorate the event of our reunion we bought a phonograph ($2.00 down) and I made sure that I got the biggest horn in the place with all colors of the rainbow dubbed on it with four records in the bargain which I selected; two marches, one Indian Whoop Call and Chosse-kalle Mozzle-tov, a Yiddish march. I grinded the needle within those discs, especially the last one, so deep that the furrows made us dizzy with its hoarseness. But we made merry and gradually flattened things into commonplace.

2

ON THE MOVE

The life of father was a book by itself but certain chapters were an interplay with our destinies which influenced the course of the lives of us all. He was aggressive and not satisfied merely sticking in the rut. Misfortune and stubbornness which often proved the same, were his lot but he never despaired and always attacked the circumstances time and again from the toughest angle with more or less success. And so not content with the little shop on Jackson Street, merely plugging at a trifling trade with meager returns, he cast his wandering eyes over the river in search for a chance to develop until they settled on Boro Park, at that time a growing section with possibilities to advance.

GOOD-BY EAST SIDE

After living and struggling in the famous ghetto for over 15 years, we bid adieu to its embrace and moved to 39th Street in Brooklyn where Pop established a roofing supply shop on a small scale but with good prospects of growth. He tried urgently to get me in that line, and I ventured for a short while to sell leaders, pitch and tar but somehow it didn't stick to me as I was not really brought up in that occupation and weaned from fathers guidance so I stuck as a printer's devil and the devil stuck to me. For the first time we lived in an airy flat with no stairs to climb and the chatter through the walls did not disturb our peace nor was our conversation hushed against intruding ears.

CHAPTER V

A BALL IN THE HANDS OF CIRCUMSTANCE

1

BLISSFUL MOMENTS

Marriage is a new chapter in the life of every person but to me it was an entire book revealing interest on every page. I am a married man engaged in the art of cooing and training for a model husband. The day after our wedding while struggling to sober up from a pleasant daze, a little girl greets us innocently--Well, how do you like it? --a question which I am still pondering over to digest. Our honeymoon is in a state of imagination confined within the walls of a solitary alcove. My wages, short of matrimonial proportions and having been Mama's boy, we were obliged to share the same apartment for the time being, with an eye for a providential turn. I kept steady at my shop-toils with a slight raise on my wages enough to buy an occasional box of candy for my newly wed and enjoy some sweets by the treat of her hand. And so quietly rippled the Hudson, uproar filled the subway and I gradually imbibed the feeling of being a married man.

II

THE FATEFUL APPLE

Besides love, candy and a stroll to the park, newly-weds enjoy partaking of some fruit particularly of some sour apples to neutralize the oversweet honey taste on their palates. Two-score yards away from our house a stark dizzy gent with his impassive wife kept a fruit store and into that place wifey lingered every now and then for her sour apple (she had another reason for a taste of salt on her tongue) with so much delectation that she nursed the notion of buying the whole store. The dizzy owner was too nervous to work indoors and I didn't see any future in cavorting about the shops so we hurriedly negotiated a bargain, scraping up every dollar in and out of bank and within the wink of an eye I became a businessman. We moved to the rear of the store and the smell of onions and stale greens was perfume to our nostrils as it was our choice and livelihood. Once again and for the last time I left mother but luckily not on the mercies of a cruel fate but under the protection of a caring husband whom I helped return and cement by her side. Father stuck to his roofing line prospering in a small way. That was in the year 1914, when the World War broke out and events began to take unforeseen shapes. My conversion from a printer to a fruitier was one of them.

*********************

To be continued