American Progress Page 21

  CHAPTER 15

  New Clothes

  The hours Maria spent with Elsa were wonderful. Together they scrubbed down the walls and windows and swept and scrubbed the hardwood floors. As they worked, Maria learned much about Elsa and her ideas. She and her sisters had all graduated from college. Not girls’ school, but college.

  “Mama taught us early that the boys could do some of the household chores and we girls could work out in the barn. We all took part in everything that needed to be done—without distinction. So when it came time to go to college, we never thought twice about attending.”

  Maria remembered how Torvald never minded working in the kitchen. What an interesting family this was.

  For her part, Maria told Elsa all she knew about the boys who hawked papers on the street corners for a few pennies each day. How the boys from the Tribune and those from the Journal were enemies. Several of the boys also had shoeshine boxes and worked at that after the papers were sold. She explained that the older boys were too proud to be seen inside the canteen.

  Elsa listened and voiced her appreciation for all the information.

  “It’s much the same way in New York, although I found the boys there to be much tougher and mean-spirited than the ones here. It won’t take long to win their trust and confidence,” she said. “We’ll rely on God’s love.”

  By mid-September, the heat broke at long last, and a cool north breeze swept the heaviness and lethargy from the city. Sleeping through the cool nights was a relief.

  Elsa planned to have the canteen stocked with clothes and food before the bitter cold of winter arrived. That meant there was much work to be done.

  One day as Elsa and Maria sat at one of the tables working on lists of merchants to visit, Elsa looked at Maria and said, “You’re such a pretty girl, Maria. Have you ever thought of wearing your hair up?”

  Maria felt her face growing warm. So many of the girls in eighth grade wore their hair up, but she didn’t feel it was worth the fuss and bother. “I’ve tried, but it won’t stay,” she said lamely.

  Elsa nodded as she reached out to take one of Maria’s braids in her hand. “Mm. Silky, as I thought. It does take a little practice. Surely your mama has a curling iron.”

  “She does. It’s just too much trouble.”

  “Here …” Elsa started unfastening the braids before Maria could protest. “I can show you quick as a wink. Come into the back.”

  There was no sense arguing. Before Maria knew it, both her braids were unfastened, and Elsa had pulled a hairbrush from her bag, along with a container of hairpins and a nice hair comb. She handed a small tortoiseshell mirror to Maria and said, “There are tricks to this, you know.” She chuckled as she heated a curling iron over a hot plate. “And whether we like it or not, we really do need to learn them.”

  Point by point, she not only demonstrated the method, but then she took it all down and made Maria do it herself. Twice! With curl in her hair, it did go up easier and stay up better.

  Elsa nodded her approval. “Nice,” she said. “Very nice. Now I’ve been thinking. In our attic there are trunks full of dresses my sisters and I used to wear. With three of us, we had plenty. I was shorter than you when I was your age, but Anne, she was the tall, slender one.”

  Maria immediately thought of Libby. “It’s my little sister Libby who longs for pretty dresses,” she said.

  “Are you telling me you don’t?”

  Maria shook her head. “Not really. It’s not as important to me.”

  “But every girl needs a pretty dress,” Elsa insisted. “Besides, if you’re going to accompany me as we solicit help from these businessmen, a nice dress or two might come in handy.”

  Maria was quiet, trying not to appear as shocked as she was feeling. “You want me to go with you?”

  “I certainly do.”

  “Then I’d be pleased to wear one of your nice dresses.”

  “Remember! After I give them to you, they’ll be your nice dresses!”

  That evening the family fussed over Maria’s new hairdo. Libby just stared. “Why, Maria, you look almost like a grown-up with your hair like that.”

  The comment made Maria look one more time in the mirror that hung above the sink. Did it change her looks that much?

  Maria knew she couldn’t formally accept the dresses until it was cleared with Mama. She waited until she and Mama were alone, because she didn’t want Libby to hear unless it was a sure thing. Since Mama now knew Mrs. Ueland better, she was agreeable. However, Maria felt a twinge of guilt when Mama softly added, “Perhaps one day Papa and I will have what’s needed to purchase such things.”

  “Mama …”

  “But, no matter,” Mama said, brightening quickly. “It’ll be a joy to see the two of you in nicer dresses.”

  Maria knew it hurt Mama that there were many things they could not afford. But Papa always said, “We are fed, clothed, and sheltered. That is sufficient.”

  “What’s a ‘stalemate’?” Tony asked as he lugged his bundle down from the dock.

  Throughout September, the headlines had not been as big and blaring as they had been a few weeks earlier.

  “A stalemate,” Thomas explained, “means neither side is going anywhere. No one is winning.”

  Neither Tony nor Liver Lid could read well, but they knew enough to make out the headlines. Sometimes Thomas would read them out loud if he thought there were words the boys might not know. Thomas was always careful not to insult the boys.

  “They’re digging trenches and sitting still,” Curt said, looking up from the paper he was reading. He shook his head in bewilderment. “Dumbest thing I ever heard of. How can anyone win the war if they just sit there lobbing shells at one another?”

  Maria didn’t care how deep they dug their trenches, just so the whole mess had a chance to calm down a bit.

  The next Saturday when Maria arrived to help out at the canteen, Elsa had brought the dresses as promised. It became a very special day for Maria. Elsa was so excited, she urged Maria to go to the back and try one on immediately. Maria was puzzled as to why Elsa should be so excited about giving away her old clothes. But she had to admit the excitement was contagious.

  “I tried to pick out ones I thought your mama would approve of,” Elsa said, smiling. “I want these gifts to be blessings, not troublemakers.”

  Maria knew she was referring to high necklines and long sleeves. Elsa put a dress into Maria’s hands and gave her a little push toward the back room. “After you put that on, I’ll let you see the ones I picked out for Libby.”

  Maria went into the back room where they kept their personal belongings. When she unfolded the dress, out fell a pair of lacy bloomers and a fine silk chemise. It was almost more than Maria could bear. She bit her lip to hold back tears.

  She slipped into the nice things then pulled the dress over her head. It fit perfectly. The fabric was tightly woven and sturdy, not thin like her cotton print. Maria studied the tucks and seams and wondered if Lizzie Higgins might have sewn this dress years ago when Elsa was still in grammar school.

  Elsa had fastened a mirror on the wall above a large sink. Maria stepped over to take a look. She couldn’t stop staring. The powder-blue fabric looked quite fetching against her fair skin and corn-silk hair. Was she truly seeing her own reflection? Who was this girl looking back at her? This total stranger?

  “You’re certainly taking your time,” Elsa called out. “I’m out here consumed with curiosity.”

  Maria opened the door and stepped out. Elsa let out a very unladylike whistle. “I knew when I first saw you that there was a pretty lady hiding inside. And here she is!”

  That day Maria walked alongside Elsa as they visited a number of businessmen to explain the goals of the Children’s Canteen. Some agreed to help, others did not. All were kind, and no one refused to listen.

  “My mama always told us girls, ‘When you look like a lady and act like a lady, you’ll be treated like a lady,�
�” Elsa told Maria. Then she added, “But that doesn’t mean we’re less than men when it comes to abilities and brains.”

  Maria listened and learned. Then she thought of what Mama had said to her about the potter and the clay. Perhaps the potter had been right after all. When she was dressed in such a nice frock, she felt almost pleased to be a girl.

  Libby couldn’t stop oohing and ahhing over the three new dresses Maria brought home to her. Actually, there was a fourth dress in the bundle, but Mama and Maria agreed to hide it from Libby and use it as a Christmas gift. The navy twill trimmed in cranberry velvet would make a perfect Christmas dress.

  “All I ever prayed for was one new dress,” Libby kept saying, “and here I have three. God truly does give more than we ask for.” After giving Mama and Maria both a giant bear hug, she said, “Now at school when they call me a Hun, at least I’ll be a well-dressed Hun.”

  And that was the first time any of them had said out loud what was happening to them at school. Mama didn’t act shocked at all. That made Maria wonder if Mama had heard some of the same cruel remarks at her workplace.

  As autumn progressed, the awful teasing lightened up in Maria’s classroom. Or it could have been the fact that working with Elsa made Maria care a little less what the other students said and did. Not even Evelyn or Cathy mattered much to her now. Wearing the dresses Elsa had given her, with her hair piled high, Maria had gained a new measure of confidence.

  “You’re God’s child. Always walk with dignity, and hold your head high,” Elsa would whisper to her before they entered into a place of business to solicit donations of money or goods.

  Maria began whispering the same words to herself each day when she arrived at school, and then she began saying it to Curt and Libby, as well. It drew them closer together and made the worst days easier to bear.

  CHAPTER 16

  Pay Cuts

  Are we going to set out our shoes for St. Nicholas this year?” Libby asked one day in early December.

  The Advent wreath, covered with greenery and holly berries, sat in the center of the kitchen table. The first candle had been lit the previous Sunday, the first Sunday after Thanksgiving. Many people in the city celebrated Advent and lit candles each Sunday before Christmas—not just German families. However, only German children set out their shoes by the fireplace on December 5—St. Nicholas Eve—so that St. Nicholas could slip in at night and fill the shoes with candy and fruit.

  Ever since the war began, the Schmidts had grown wary of doing German things and saying German words. Maria thought it was kind of eerie. So much had changed in so short a time.

  Earlier in November, Maria and Thomas had both celebrated their birthdays, which were two days apart. Maria’s came on the tenth and Thomas’s on the twelfth. Papa joked that he was thankful he didn’t have to go to two more flickers—especially just two days apart. But neither Maria nor Thomas cared a great deal about the flickers. And Maria wouldn’t have cared if she never saw another newsreel like the one they’d seen back in August.

  After turning thirteen, Maria expected she would feel much older, but it didn’t happen. Putting her hair up and wearing the dresses Elsa had given her made her feel older than celebrating a birthday. Now the month of November was past and Christmas was just around the corner.

  Papa mulled over Libby’s question about St. Nicholas Eve. At last he answered, “I don’t see what it would harm to put out the shoes as we always have done.”

  “Well, Mrs. Braun said we shouldn’t,” Libby reported.

  “Since when did you ever do what Mrs. Braun says?” Thomas asked.

  Mrs. Braun did boss them around quite a bit. Recently the Schmidts had been concerned for their neighbors since vandals had thrown a bucket of black paint on the plate-glass windows of Mr. Braun’s leather goods shop and painted unkind words on the brick walls.

  Maria remembered when Mr. Braun had scolded Papa about causing trouble in the neighborhood because of being active in the labor union. Now it was Mr. Braun who was being targeted, and there wasn’t much anyone could do about it. A person might quit being a member of the labor union, but how did one stop being a German?

  So in spite of everything, the children set their shoes by the small fireplace in the parlor. Of course, not even Libby truly believed anymore that St. Nicholas came in the night, but the tradition added a festive air to the holiday season.

  Now that Advent had arrived, Maria, Libby, and Mama began baking the stollen, a sweet bread that was coated in snowy powdered sugar. And soon they would bake the lebkuchen—spicy ginger cookies.

  Mama always said, “No one can celebrate Christmas like the Germans. They begin with St. Nicholas Day and don’t finish until Epiphany.”

  She was right. But this year it was different. The German community had cut back drastically on their scheduled festivities.

  Winter came with a vengeance, bringing early snows and freezing temperatures. But many of the newsboys—thanks to Elsa and her hard work—wore new mittens, stockings without holes, and knitted stocking caps pulled down over their ears. And the children who stopped by the canteen in the mornings were given bowls of hot oatmeal. Tony and Liver Lid and the older boys did odd jobs for Elsa in exchange for their food and clothes.

  Maria wished she could help Elsa with the cooking every morning, but of course she couldn’t. She had her own family’s breakfast to prepare and her paper route to throw.

  Two weeks before Christmas, Maria was helping Elsa hang garlands and brightly colored paper chains around the canteen. More tables and chairs filled the room now, and the storefront was clean and inviting. Off to one side Elsa had a flannel board where she told the children Bible stories. A heating stove stood in one corner, and a merchant had agreed to donate coal to heat the place.

  Elsa planned to have a party for the children just before Christmas. “It won’t be much this year,” she’d explained to Maria. “But just wait ‘til next year when we have a full staff.” Elsa stepped up on a stepladder with a hammer in hand, and Maria handed her the decorations and nails. As they worked, the subject turned to different causes that were important to people.

  “That’s how my papa feels about the labor union,” Maria said. “Even though we’ve received nasty threats, he won’t quit.”

  “That does take courage,” Elsa agreed as she hammered another nail into place. On the nail, she hooked another loop of the paper chain.

  “Until unions gain the respect from all citizens and from government officials,” Maria continued, “the insensitive, greedy, wealthy people will continue to wield control over the …” Then she stopped. “Oh, I didn’t mean….”

  “You’re partly right, my dear. But only partly. There’re some wealthy people who do oppress those beneath them—but not all of them do.”

  “I didn’t mean your family is like that.”

  Elsa laughed. “Why, Maria, my dear, I take that as a compliment, but one could hardly call our family wealthy. What with so many mouths Mama and Papa had to feed, so many of us to send off to college, and a big mortgage to pay off, it was nip and tuck many times at our house.” She reached out her hand. “Another nail, please.” The hammer banged again.

  “You must remember, Maria, that wealth is relative. Did it ever occur to you that to the children living down in the Flats, you are the wealthy one?”

  Maria thought about that idea.

  “Another nail and more paper chain, please.”

  As they finished decorating and left for the evening, Maria couldn’t stop thinking about Elsa’s words. To someone like Tony, Maria lived in a palace, ate like a queen, and dressed like royalty. It was an intriguing thought.

  Christmas came on Friday that year. The Monday morning prior to the holiday, one of the men on the dock at the news office called for the boys to gather around because he had an announcement to make.

  Maria usually paid scant attention to those men. They were never kind to the boys, treating them as though they were
no better than the rats that skittered through the alleyways. But when he said “announcement,” she moved in a little closer and listened.

  The man told the boys that they would be required to sell more papers each day, and their pay per paper was to be cut by two cents each. A loud groan went up from the boys, and Tony and Liver Lid and the older ones made shouts of protest.

  “Aw, shut your traps,” the man yelled back at them over the noise. “You oughta be glad we even let you handle our papers.”

  “Thomas,” Maria said, nudging her brother. “They can’t do that, can they? It’s so unfair.”

  But Thomas’s mind was on another matter. “Hey!” he called out. “What about those of us who have paid subscription routes?”

  Maria knew that route customers paid a few cents more for having their papers delivered.

  “Them with routes gets a three-cent cut,” the man yelled back. “Times is tough, you know. We all gotta make sacrifices.”

  Thomas’s face went sort of empty. Thomas, who usually had a witty answer for everything, had no lopsided grin now. “Times aren’t that tough,” he said. He didn’t say it very loud, but the man heard.

  “Hey!” he hollered down. “Ain’t your name Schmidt?”

  Thomas stood up to his full height. “You know it is.”

  “Well, you Kraut-eaters oughta be the last ones to complain. Be lucky we let your kind stay on at all.” With that, he turned around and stomped back into the building.

  Your kind. Maria stood frozen. They’d all heard the awful words. When hate-filled words came to the Schmidt children individually, and if they never discussed it, they could pretend it never happened. This was different. She and Curt and Thomas had all heard the cutting words, and from an adult.

  “Aw, they’re a bunch of creeps,” Liver Lid said, waving his hand toward the dock. “That’s all they are. We’ll come up here in the middle of the night and make a mess outta this place. And we got enough boys to do it, too.”