American Progress Page 20

  “I have others of the midway, but I thought you’d be more interested in these,” Curt said in his soft voice.

  “I’m not the only one who would be interested in these,” Aunt Josephine told him. “Did you not think that Mrs. Ueland and the association might want to purchase copies of these?”

  Curt’s eyes grew wide. He shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

  “Can you put these in something?” Aunt Josephine asked. “I’d like to show them to Clara and see what she thinks. They use these kinds of things in the papers and pamphlets that the association distributes.”

  “I can wrap them in newspaper with pasteboard to keep them flat.” Before anyone could say another word, Curt had grabbed them all up and run back upstairs.

  When Aunt Josephine left that day, she took Curt’s photographs. The next time they went to the Andersons’ to visit, Aunt Josephine presented a surprised Curt with a check for five dollars. They all laughed at the shocked expression on the boy’s face.

  Still chuckling, Uncle Robert said, “Tell me, Curt, what in the world are you going to do with all that money?”

  Curt didn’t hesitate a minute. “Three dollars will go to Mama and Papa, and the other two will go to purchase more photo supplies.”

  Curt stared at the five-dollar check in his hand. Maria was so proud of him, she felt she would almost burst.

  School was due to begin in a week. Maria had hoped against hope that the money she’d saved over the summer would go to purchase a new dress for Libby. But it just wasn’t to be. When it came time for the four Schmidt children to purchase new school shoes, there wasn’t enough money to cover the cost. So Maria put her savings into the family till, very pleased that she could help but still sorry she couldn’t get Libby a new dress.

  Mama unpacked two of Maria’s old school dresses from the trunk upstairs. The castoffs would be cut down for Libby’s school dresses. Though the dresses were worn and had a few holes from where Maria had played hard with her brothers, Maria and Mama were able to patch the rip and use the best pieces to make two serviceable dresses.

  Libby took out the old stitches, and Maria trimmed the pieces and sewed them back together again. They had moved the treadle machine close to the back door, where they would catch any little breeze.

  “Maria?” Libby asked. She sat cross-legged on the floor with her doll Florence close by her side.

  Maria glanced up from the machine. Her sister’s face was screwed up with concern. “What is it, Libby?”

  “Do you think you or I will ever have nice dresses? Really nice dresses?”

  “Sure we will. Especially you. You’re so pretty, you’ll snag a rich husband sure as anything.”

  “But that’s a long time off. Do you think it will happen anytime sooner?”

  Maria had difficulty understanding her little sister’s need for nice things. The two of them were so different. Maria wished she never had to wear a dress at all. She loved wearing her brother’s blouses, which were so much more comfortable than her high-collared dresses.

  When Maria didn’t answer, Libby was quick to add, “I don’t mean to complain. I’m thankful we have these things.”

  “Are you saying you wish I’d taken a little better care of my dresses?” Maria teased.

  Libby held up a skirt piece with two fair-sized rips in it. “You could have done a little better by me,” she replied, making them both laugh.

  “I have a few pennies saved back,” Maria said. “We could find some ribbon pieces at the five-and-ten. We can use that to make your dresses more fussy.”

  “Some of the girls have such fashionable frocks with satin and silk fabrics and all frothy with lace and ruffles,” Libby said. “Is it wrong to like things like that?”

  Maria felt these were questions Mama should be answering. Suddenly she remembered Mrs. Ueland, so she began to tell the story of how she knew of a little girl with no father and a widowed mama and little brother. She told how they had to live in crowded rooms above a hardware store, but that the girl was the prettiest girl at Washington High School and everyone in school liked her. Well, at least that’s how Torvald had described his mama.

  “I’m not sure if it’s wrong to want pretty dresses,” Maria concluded. “But I think it’s more important to work on what’s inside of us instead of what’s on the outside of us.”

  Maria learned she would have done well to take her own advice. When school began, none of the Schmidts were prepared for the problems that awaited those who happened to have German-sounding last names. The slurs Maria heard on the playground and whispered in the classroom hit her as hard as those German guns she’d read about in the paper.

  Charles Briggs was the one with the most to say, as usual. “Dirty Hun,” he whispered under his breath when he walked by her desk. “Baby killer.” At recess, he and other boys made up several chants about the ruthless, mindless Germans. “Kraut-eaters,” they said.

  But it wasn’t only what Maria heard that bothered her. It was how she felt. Something strange was in the air. The other kids looked at her funny and walked around her—as though a sign were hung about her neck that said Danger, Stay Away. Last year Evelyn and Cathy had twittered about her and gaped at her. Now they acted as though she didn’t exist.

  Torvald was the pleasant exception to it all. Though he was quiet as ever in class, he smiled at her. Maria wasn’t sure if he understood the extent to which she was being avoided, but he seemed to know. Even the eighth-grade teacher, Mr. Denning, was aloof and distant when dealing with German-American students. He’d certainly not behaved that way with last year’s class. But last year, Germany had not attacked and ransacked Belgium.

  Based on the latest news reports, Germany was on a straight course for Paris. Soon all of France would be overrun and destroyed by Germany. Maria had no control over any of that. Nor did she agree with it. But what could she say? No one was asking her.

  The very first day of school, as they walked home, Curt was extremely quiet, and Libby fought back tears. Maria knew their treatment had been as bad or worse than hers. Each seemed to know what the other was thinking, but the pain was too deep to talk about. Maria made stabs at light conversation, but it was of little use.

  Thomas might have helped with his usual positive outlook, but he now had an after-school job in an office downtown. He served as an errand boy for the German engineering firm of Wahrmund and Strackbein. He wouldn’t be home until Mama arrived, and Maria missed him.

  “Be sure and change your clothes,” she said to Curt and Libby when they arrived home. A silly thing to say. No one needed to tell them to change.

  Together Maria and Libby worked in the kitchen to prepare supper, while Curt went out to his darkroom. As Maria whipped up a batch of spätzle noodles, she wondered how she might quit school and go to work. That seemed to be the only answer. How could she face week after week of such dreadful treatment?

  Then she looked over at Libby, who was peeling potatoes at the sink. No. It would be unfair to leave her younger sister to face such treatment alone. She’d have to stick it out, no matter how bad it became. Maybe the war would be over quickly and everyone would just forget about it.

  When Mama and Papa asked about their school day that evening, each child quietly said it had been fine. Just fine.

  CHAPTER 14

  The Children’s Canteen

  Maria thought it was nothing short of a miracle that Mama allowed her to continue the paper route after school began. Perhaps Mama simply couldn’t think of any good reason to make her stop. Especially now that she was doing such a good job. Not even Mama could argue that their family couldn’t use the extra money. It took a lot of groceries to feed four children, especially since Thomas never seemed to get full.

  Through that first week of September, the younger newsboys kept mentioning something about a Miss Elsa. It seemed this person—this Miss Elsa—had opened a place where they could go to eat breakfast each morning. Maria was fascinated. Who would
do such a thing?

  “We ain’t goin’ over there,” Liver Lid told the Schmidts, jabbing a thumb at himself and then at Tony. “What I means to say is, we two don’t need no fancy dame dishing no free handouts to us.”

  “Yeah,” Tony added, “but them little ones, they needs it. We been seein’ to it they get over there each morning.”

  “You mean someone’s just come in and set up a kitchen?” Thomas asked. That was exactly what Maria wanted to ask them, but only Thomas could do it without causing offense.

  “It ain’t down in the Flats,” Tony said. “It’s in an old abandoned storefront on Second Street.”

  Liver Lid pulled off his cap, scratched his rumpled hair, and put the cap back on. The cap was a ratty old thing that had seen better days. “Don’t know what to make of it,” he said. “Probably just some goofy do-gooder. Get a little scare into her, and she’ll be gone.”

  “Too good to last, that’s what I say,” Tony added.

  They were interrupted by the men who brought the newspaper bundles out on the dock. But as Maria threw her papers that morning, she couldn’t stop thinking about a lady named Miss Elsa. Someone else in this city cared about these boys, and Maria wanted to meet that someone. But how? Mama would never allow her to go that close to Bohemian Flats. It was simply too dangerous.

  All that day, this new thought kept Maria’s attention away from the bad feelings at school. She’d never really been close friends with the few other German kids in her class. But now she began to feel a real kinship toward them.

  Headlines on Saturday, September 12, made Maria feel almost jubilant. The French had stopped the Germans from hitting Paris. Strange as it seemed, the Germans had actually retreated more than eighty miles.

  “This probably means it’s all over,” Curt said with a note of hope in his voice. “Sometimes I find myself wishing …” He stopped and glanced around the alleyway. But the three of them were the only ones in the alley folding papers.

  “Wishing what?” Maria asked, though she could almost read his mind.

  “That the Germans would get soundly trounced.”

  “I know, Curt,” Thomas said. “I feel the same way.”

  “You do?”

  “Me, too.” Maria picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “That makes it unanimous, so I’m sure it’s bound to happen. And,” she added as she adjusted the weight of the heavy papers, “I’m not the least bit ashamed of it.”

  When the route was finished that morning, Maria finally got up the courage to ask Thomas to take her to meet Miss Elsa. Since it was Saturday, the day was free.

  Thomas looked at her. “You know what Mama would say if she ever found out you were that close to the river.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with the river. Papa works right on the river.”

  “Maria, you know what I mean.”

  She nodded. “I know, Thomas, but I’ve wanted to help those little guys who don’t have anyone or anything. Now I find there’s someone who thinks the way I do about them, and I can’t even find out who she is. It’s just not fair.”

  Thomas finally gave in. “All right. I’ll take you there after we eat breakfast, but we’ll only stay a few minutes. Just long enough so you can see this Miss Elsa, then we’re coming right back home.”

  “Are we telling Mama?” Curt wanted to know.

  “Only if she asks,” Maria said.

  So Curt and Libby stayed at the house while Thomas walked with Maria down to Second Street. It wasn’t a very nice part of Minneapolis. They had no trouble finding the old storefront. A makeshift sign outside said Children’s Canteen.

  “What a perfectly wonderful idea,” Maria said when she saw it.

  A person couldn’t see too much through the dust film on the plate-glass windows. Thomas opened the door for Maria, and she stepped inside. It was pretty empty. A few plank tables were scattered about. Two or three cracker barrels and several wooden crates of fruit sat over against one wall. A young lady sat writing in a ledger at one of the tables. A very pretty young lady she was. She looked up as they came in.

  “Well,” she said, “you don’t look like the usual fare that comes tromping up from the Flats. How may I help you?”

  She stood, and Maria could see she was a slim little thing with a waist no bigger than a hand span. Her dress, a pale-blue summer linen, had a square-cut neckline and sleeves that went only to her elbows. It gave the appearance of elegance, yet was so very cool in the September heat. Fitted into the woman’s pompadour was a strand of silk rosettes the color of her dress. Her cheeks were rosy, as though she spent a good deal of time outdoors.

  “Excuse me,” Thomas said, because Maria had lost her voice. “We’re looking for Miss Elsa. Could you tell us where to find her?”

  The young lady smiled, and her clear blue eyes lit up. “Look no farther.”

  Maria hoped her mouth wasn’t gaping. She’d pictured some motherly type lady would be in charge of such an undertaking. “You’re Miss Elsa?”

  “I am. Is there something wrong?”

  Maria was at a loss for words. Thomas stepped up and held out his hand. “I’m Thomas Schmidt, and this is my sister Maria. We throw papers for the Tribune and know many of the newsboys. They’ve been talking about this place, and my sister here … Well, my sister is interested in helping the boys. She wanted to see …”

  “See what kind of daft person would come to such a place?” Miss Elsa laughed. “Now you see.”

  “Please,” Maria said, “I didn’t mean …”

  “I’m teasing of course.” Miss Elsa turned to Maria and shook her hand as well. “I know you didn’t mean such a thing. But some people do, you know. Most of the businessmen I talk to think I’m out of my mind.”

  “Businessmen?”

  Miss Elsa nodded. “Businessmen. I approach them to become sponsors—people to give money or clothing or food or whatever. A few of them listen to me, but most dismiss me as just plain daft.”

  Her face didn’t look as though this fact bothered her at all. She seemed more amused by it than anything else.

  “Why don’t you just set up an orphanage?” Thomas asked in his practical manner. “Or join forces with the existing orphanages?”

  Miss Elsa looked Thomas right in the eyes. “That’s a very good question, young man. This work is quite different from an orphanage. It may be that we’ll funnel some of these street children into an orphanage, but their daily needs are my concern—food and clothing and,” she added, “their souls.”

  Maria noted a leather-bound Bible lying on the table. “Whatever gave you such an idea?” she asked.

  “I’ve just spent two years doing this type of work in the slums of New York City.”

  Thomas’s eyebrows went up. Maria could tell he was impressed.

  “The work there is up and running now, with dozens of volunteers and many supporters. I’m the adventurer. I relish a challenge. Starting the work is what I enjoy doing. My parents had been begging me to come back to Minneapolis, so I decided to create the same type of work here.”

  Miss Elsa waved a delicate hand at the room. “It’s not much now,” she said, “but just wait. By the time the snow flies, I hope to have it quite cozy in here.”

  Maria was fascinated by this lovely girl. An adventurer she called herself, and yet she was every inch an elegant lady.

  They heard a motorcar pull up out front. “There’s Mama and my brother now,” Miss Elsa said.

  Maria turned as the creaking door opened. In walked Torvald Ueland.

  She turned back to Miss Elsa. “This is your brother?”

  She nodded. “It is. Torvald,” she said, “come here. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

  Torvald smiled. “We’ve met, thank you, Elsa.”

  Then Mrs. Ueland walked in wearing her impressive hat with the ostrich plumes. “Well, well, as I live and breathe. If it isn’t our Maria. How are you, my dear?” She glanced at Elsa and said, “I certain
ly hope you’ve recruited this young girl. She’s capable of handling the work of about three her size.”

  Elsa was laughing. “My, what a small world. You all know one another.”

  Mrs. Ueland quickly explained to Elsa how Maria had helped at the fair, then at the fund-raiser.

  Thomas, however, hadn’t met any of them. As they were introduced, he said, “I do know your son Rolf from school, but not well.”

  Elsa turned to Maria. “You said you have compassion for the street children. Does that mean you’d care to volunteer here?”

  “Oh, I would.” Maria glanced over at Thomas. “But I’m not sure Mama would …”

  “What if I telephoned your mama and talked with her?” Mrs. Ueland put in. “I can explain to her about Elsa’s previous work and assure her you’ll be perfectly safe here.”

  “Would you do that?” Maria’s heart was beginning to race.

  “Of course I would. Now Elsa’s about to lock up, I believe. May we drive you to your home?”

  “No need for that. We can walk,” Thomas said politely.

  Maria knew he wanted to ride in their touring car just as much as she did. It was much classier than Uncle Robert’s Model T.

  “But if you insist,” Maria added quickly.

  Elsa put her arm affectionately about Maria’s shoulder. “We insist.”

  Mrs. Ueland telephoned the Brauns that very evening, asking for Mama. They talked quite a long while. Maria had told Mama beforehand all that had transpired and for her to expect the call. Mama was upset that Maria had gone into that part of town. “But,” she quickly added, “I suppose with Thomas there, you were safe.”

  “I should say she was,” Thomas put in, giving Mama his lopsided grin.

  After the conversation with Mrs. Ueland, Mama and Papa agreed to allow Maria to donate a few hours a week at the canteen. Suddenly there was a bright spot in Maria’s life.

  That night as she lay in the small bed with Libby snuggled next to her, Maria thought a great deal about Elsa. Rolf and Torvald had told her how their three older sisters played ball with the boys, rode horses, and swam in the lake. But Elsa didn’t seem at all like a tomboy. Could a woman be assertive, adventurous, and all she wanted to be—-and still be a lady?