Uncle Antoine's Funeral - Chapters 22 through 35

Chapter 22

Wednesday March 13, 1929

Antoine was startled to see a man sitting in the booth with Lada; for a moment he thought it was Frankie Dragovic. But when Lada’s face lit up, the man turned, and Antoine was surprised to see it was Thomas.

“Hello, Antoine,” said Lada. “Look who’s here.”

“Hi, Lada. Hello, Thomas.”

Thomas stood and took Antoine’s right hand in both of his. “How have you been, Antoine?”

“Very well.”

“That’s what I hear,” said Thomas, looking at Lada.

“How are you?” asked Antoine.

“Good. I have some news. But, please, sit down.”

Thomas sat down next to his sister, and Antoine sat across from them. Thomas pushed an oversized, square, white envelope across the table. It was addressed to Antoine, but unstamped.

“What’s this?”

“Open it.”

It was an invitation to the wedding of Tomislav Petar Bogdanovic to Mary Alice Kendal at St. John’s Episcopal Church in Cuyahoga Falls on Saturday, June 8, 1929.

“That’s wonderful, Thomas! Congratulations!” Antoine reached across the table to shake his hand again. “Where did you meet her?”

“After Bainey closed, I went to work at Kendal Chemical. I work with her brother, Archie, in the lab, and, when I met Mary Alice, I fell hard.”

Antoine looked at the invitation still open in his hand, and it dawned on him. “Mary Alice Kendal? Kendal Chemical? Why, you sly dog. You’re marrying the boss’s daughter!”

“Well, not really. After the wedding, Mary Alice and I are moving to Delaware.”

“Delaware? Why Delaware?”

“I’m going to work for DuPont.”

“The chemical company?”

“You’ve heard of DuPont?” asked Lada.

“The du Ponts are Huguenots.”

“Huguenots?” asked Thomas.

“French Protestants,” said Lada. “Antoine’s a Huguenot, isn’t that right?”

Antoine scrutinized Thomas. “So, you’re going to Delaware to make explosives?”

Lada turned to Antoine. “Explosives?”

Antoine said, “The du Ponts got rich manufacturing black powder and dynamite.”

“Oh,” said Lada to Thomas, “Is that why you’re being so secretive?”

“No, I’m not going to work on explosives. I’ve been hired to work on a new secret chemical process.”

“You’re sure it’s not explosives?” asked Lada.

“Absolutely sure.”

“Secret, huh? Give us a hint,” said Antoine.

“You know you’re dying to tell somebody,” said Lada.

“If this gets out, I could be in real trouble.”

“Who am I going tell?” asked Antoine.

Thomas drummed the table with his fingers. “Okay, but you have to keep this under your hat.”

“Mum’s the word,” said Lada.

“I’m going to be working on synthetic polymers,” said Thomas very quietly.

“Well, that’s, um, what?” said Antoine.

“What’s a polymer, Tom?” asked Lada.

“It’s a kind of molecule, a long chain of atoms. In nature, mostly carbon atoms.”

“What’s so special about pol… pol…” asked Antoine.

“Polymers,” said Thomas. “An example from nature is the silk that spiders spin to make their webs.”

“I thought some kind of worm made silk.” said Lada.

Thomas looked at her and replied reluctantly, “Yes. Silk worms, but they’re actually a caterpillar, not a worm. Once we crack the process, the applications will be limitless.”

“That’s pretty nifty. Like what besides stockings?” asked Antoine.

“That’s all I want to say on the subject.”

“Sounds like exciting stuff,” said Antoine.

“It is. Now, can we get back to the wedding for a second?”

“Sure.”

“I have a favor to ask, Antoine. While I would really like you to come to the wedding, I might actually need you to come.”

“Me?”

“As a groomsman.”

“Why me?”

“It looks like the family might not come to the wedding. If not, that means no brother, no cousins, maybe no friends.”

Antoine looked down at the invitation. “Oh. She’s not Serbian.”

“Right. And worse than that, we’re getting married in an Episcopal Church. Mary Alice wants to have a second ceremony in the Serbian Church, but that would only make things worse.”

“Why worse?”

“This is really serious, Antoine. Without the blessing of the bishop, I could be excommunicated. That’s no big deal to me, but it matters to Mama. In practical terms, I need the support of the family and our priest to get the blessing. But nobody in the family is talking to me, present company excluded, so we’re kind of at a stalemate.”

“It’s quite the scandal, really,” said Lada. “Very delicious!”

“You wouldn’t say that if it was your wedding.”

“If it were my wedding, darling, we’d be having it at our church.”

“If it was your wedding, darling,” said Thomas imitating her tone, “Uncle Ilarion would shoot you first.”

“Well, there’s always that.”

“So, can I count on you, Antoine?”

“Of course. I’m honored just to be invited.”

“Great! Great! So, I’ve got you and Randel McCullers from Bainey and a couple of guys from the Kendal lab, plus Mary Alice’s brother. Embarrassingly few considering Mary Alice is having seven or eight bridesmaids.”

“I’m having trouble picturing this. Your family’s not talking to you?”

Thomas gritted his teeth and said nothing.

 “It’s a war of attrition,” said Lada. “He even moved out of the house.”

Antoine was shocked.

“That’s not true,” countered Thomas. “I already had a room in a boarding house in Cuyahoga Falls. I stay there a few nights a week, especially when I worked late. Shortly after we announced our engagement, Mama and I had a big fight, and I haven’t been back to the house since.”

“You really think Mama’s going to skip your wedding?” asked Lada.

“What do you think?”

“You’re not going to let her stop you, are you?” asked Antoine.

“Of course not. It’s given Mary Alice a moment of pause, though. Mama is an extraordinary woman, and I’ve let her have her way in most things. But she doesn’t know my mind in this.”

Antoine said thoughtfully, “I guess I feel a little sorry for your mother. I really like her.”

“Tomislav,” said Lada, “Mama is looking grayer and smaller every day. She barely speaks a word at the shop. Why don’t you let me talk to her?”

“I don’t want you in the line of fire.”

“I will be very careful and diplomatic. I know she’s been crying. She just needs a push.”

“I’m not coming home until she agrees to meet Mary Alice.”

“I’ll tell her that.”

“Okay,” he said stiffly. “Where’s the restroom.” Lada and Antoine pointed to the front of the restaurant. He stood and said. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as Thomas turned into the men’s room, Antoine said, “How did he find out about us?” asked Antoine.

“I may have let it slip that we have lunch occasionally.”

“Every other week is not occasionally.”

She grinned. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s always an occasion when I see you, Antoine.”

“How did he find out we were having lunch today?”

“He called me on Sunday and asked when I was going to see you again. I told him this week, and he asked if he could tag along. He took off work and everything.”

“Wow!”

“Yeah, wow!”

The waitress walked up the table and asked, “The usual?” They both nodded. “Where’s your friend?”

“The restroom,” said Lada. “He’ll be back in minute. Oh, here he comes now.”

Thomas slid into the seat next to Lada. “What’ll you have, hon?” asked the waitress.

Thomas looked at Lada and Antoine and asked, “What’s good here?”

“The grilled cheese,” “The hotdogs,” they answered simultaneously, then looked at each other and laughed.

Thomas gave them a quizzical look, glanced at the menu, and said, “I’ll have the roast beef sandwich and coffee.”

The waitress nodded and said, “I’ll bring your drinks in a minute.”

“So,” said Thomas looking at Antoine, “What’s new with you?”

“Not much, really.”

“Second shift doesn’t bother you?”

“No. Lots of guys complain about trouble sleeping, but I’ve adapted.”

“And the racing?”

“Actually, we haven’t raced in quite a while.”

“Why’s that?”

“No time, really. He works days, I work nights. And, like you, he’s engaged.”

“That’s too bad.” The waitress brought their drinks, and Antoine took a sip of his chocolate shake. As Thomas poured cream into his coffee, he asked “And how about you, Antoine? Any special girl in your life?”

“My sister.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it. A girl, not in your family, that you’re seeing regularly.”

“No.”

Thomas took a sip of his coffee and added a little more sugar.

“What going on at the shop?” Antoine asked Lada.

She rambled on about new fabrics and patterns and what Mrs. Banovic said to Mrs. Duric about Miss Ilic. Neither man listened very carefully, but they were pleased to hear her talk. When she came to the end of her story, she laughed and they laughed with her.

Then the waitress brought the food to the table, and they began to eat. Antoine casually reached over to Lada’s plate, took a French fry, dipped it in her ketchup, and popped it in his mouth. A look of suspicion stole over Thomas’s face.

“Try a French fry,” Lada said to Thomas. “They’re delicious.”

“No,” he said. “No, thank you.”

Chapter 23

Saturday, June 8, 1929

Antoine, Randel and Lada were headed north in Randel’s red Model A Ford. The back seat was full of wedding presents so they were all seated, cheek by jowl, in the front seat. Randel and Antoine were wearing matching dark gray tuxes with light-gray cummerbunds, lapels and bow ties. Lada was wearing a simple cotton shift; her lemon-colored, chiffon bridesmaid dress and matching hat were laid out on top of the presents in the back.

They had picked up Lada and the wedding presents at nine thirty that morning. She had taken the seat between Randel and Antoine. Once settled, she put her head on Antoine’s shoulder and promptly fell asleep.

She awoke a little more than an hour later, stretched and asked, “Where are we?”

“Just a few minutes from the church, I think,” said Randel.

She squinted out the windshield. “What a glorious day,” she said.

“I hope it doesn’t get too hot,” said Randel. “This suit is beastly.”

“How are you this morning, Antoine? Did you get any sleep?”

“I slept well. Better than you, I think.”

“Mama kept me up until all hours. She was unhappy with her dress at the last minute, and she insisted we alter it.”

Randel said, “Speaking of Mama, how did she and Thomas reconcile this wedding?”

“Tommy didn’t do anything.”

“Tommy?”

“Yes, that’s what Mary Alice calls him. I think it’s sweet.”

“Does ‘Tommy’ think it’s sweet?”

“Tommy loves every little thing about Mary Alice. And if you must know, it was me that changed Mama’s mind. And Mary Alice, of course.”

“So, tell me.”

“Well, the last week of March, Luca, our cousin and Tommy’s best friend, came by the shop to say ‘hi’, and we talked for a bit. Just before he left, he said to Mama, ‘Give Tomislav my best and tell him I hope to see him soon.’”

“You didn’t have anything to do with his visit, did you?”

“Maybe,” she chirped.

“I thought so.”

“Any way,” she continued. “Mama got up and went to the backroom, where she stayed for quite some time. When she came back, I could tell she’d been crying. So, I sighed a couple of times, well, maybe more than a couple of times and Mama says to me, ‘What’s that all about?’ And I say, ‘What?’ And she says, ‘All that sighing.’ And I say, ‘I’m just concerned about you, Mama. You seem so unhappy.’ She says, ‘You know I’m upset about Tomislav.’

“So, I look at her and say, ‘Mama, can I talk to you about this for minute?’ She just looks back at me. ‘Do you think you can change Tommy’s mind?’ She tears up and shakes her head. ‘What happens when they have children? Don’t you want to see them?’ Then she started to cry very hard, and I went to give her a hug, and she says, ‘What should I do?’ And I say, “I think we should meet her. We don’t know anything about her, except that Tomislav loves her.’ She sat for a minute and nodded. So, I said, ‘Why don’t I invite her to Sunday dinner?’

“So, they came the next Sunday. Wait till you meet her! She’s like a fairy princess. So blonde and fair and slender. She played with the children and charmed the men, especially Uncle Gav and Uncle Ilarion. She ate absolutely everything. She complimented the women on the food and asked for the recipes. She only missed one trick, Antoine; she didn’t help with the dishes.”

Antoine laughed.

“Most importantly she dazzled Mama. I think for the first time in her life, Mama bowed to the inevitable. Or maybe she thought Mary Alice was the right woman for Tommy. Or maybe she realized this is what comes with living in America. Whatever the reason, she’s been totally on board since.” Lada laughed. “She browbeat our priest into talking to the bishop. And I’m pretty sure money changed hands. Must have been quite a wad ‘cause the marriage has been blessed by the Holy Mother Church. She even tried to bully her way into the wedding planning.”

“She did?”

“Oh, yeah. She wanted some Serbian food at the reception. She wanted our priest to help with the ceremony, but fortunately, that’s where he drew the line. Eventually, Tommy had to tell her to knock it off. But Mary Alice consulted with her about the flowers. When you talk to Mama, mention the flowers and be surprised when she tells you she picked them out.”

Antoine smiled. “Sure thing.”

They arrived at the church at a quarter ‘til eleven. Six members of the wedding party, including Antoine, Lada and Randel, had not been able to attend the Friday evening rehearsal, so the priest held a quick run-through for them at eleven thirty.

Lada, Randel and Antoine got back into Randel’s car and headed northeast on Front Street, which followed the course of the Cuyahoga River. As the road and the river turned east, there appeared a number of very fine homes with a view of the river.

They turned into the driveway of a particularly large and beautiful house. They could see that pavilion-style tents had been erected on the side and back lawns. There were five tents in all, as they would later see, four with tables and chairs for guests and one for food service.

Randel stopped the car at the front entrance; Lada got her dress and skipped into the house. Randel and Antoine made several trips carrying the wedding gifts into house and placed them on the dining room table. The father of bride, George Kendal, asked Randel to park his car in the yard, saying that he expected catering truck to arrive at any moment.

At twelve thirty a maid offered Randel and Antoine lemonade and a snack, which they ate gratefully. At one thirty they headed back to the church.

The church itself was a large, handsome brick building; the nave was tall and narrow. There were fifteen rows of pews that could easily seat 180 people. The mahogany pews and floor were beautiful, darkly-stained and highly-polished. The exterior walls held large stained-glass windows. On a bright midday in June, the windows would have provided all the light that was needed, but four large electrically-lit chandeliers added their merry glow.

As the groomsmen arrived, a florist pinned a single white rose to their left lapel. Guests started to arrive at two o’clock; a groomsman asked each party “Guest of the bride or the groom?” They escorted them down the aisle, and seated the bride’s guests on the left, groom’s on the right. The first time down the aisle Antoine seated an elderly couple and he noticed that the ends of the first six pews were hung with large bouquets of roses, carnations, lilies and hydrangeas. The church smelled like a garden.

At two fifteen, the organist started the prelude. The music included "Clair de Lune" by Debussy, "La primavera" by Vivaldi and Bach’s "Prelude in C".

By two twenty the flow of guests had slowed to a trickle and minutes later the organist began to play "Allegro Maestoso" by Handel. Archie Kendal ushered his mother, aunts and uncles, and a few cousins to the first two pews on the left.

This group included a middle-aged couple that Antoine had been studying. The man’s thinning hair and mustache were salt and pepper; he wore an impeccably tailored dark blue suit and diamond-studded cuff links. The woman was tall and elegant, striking rather than pretty, her blonde hair a little faded. She wore a light-blue silk dress, large engagement and wedding rings, and diamond earrings. Thomas’ working-class family and friends, while dressed in their best, looked a little shabby when compared to Mary Alice’s crowd. This middle-aged couple put some of the same shade on the Kendals. Antoine wondered who they were.

When "Allegro Maestoso" ended and the families had been seated, the priest, Thomas and Pavle walked in from the right side of the altar. The priest stopped at the edge of the altar; Thomas and Pavle stepped down to the top of the three steps that led up from the nave.

A short, chubby bridesmaid stepped forward to take Antoine’s arm. Antoine felt a little shaky about being the first couple to walk down the aisle, but she looked up at him with smile that shouted This is going to fun, let’s go!

The organist started an enthusiastic rendition of "March" from Occasional Oratorio also by Handel. Antoine and the girl on his arm stepped out into the nave. They walked in time with the music to the altar, where the girl turned left and he turned right. They walked to opposite sides of the altar, stepped up to the first step and turned to face the guests.

Antoine watched the other couples stroll down the aisle; they were all attractive, in their early twenties to early thirties. The bridesmaids wore yellow dresses and filmy-brimmed, yellow hats and carried bouquets of white carnations and roses. There were eight bridesmaids and eight groomsmen. The first four stepped up onto the bottom step, the next four onto the second step.

Lada was the next to last bridesmaid, and she walked down the aisle with Archie Kendal. Antoine could see that Lada had altered her dress slightly to suggest her curves, the lemon dress enhancing the hint of olive in her complexion. In comparison, the other girls, who were as Anglo-Saxon as they came, looked washed out and angular.

The last bridesmaid walked down the aisle with Thomas’s cousin, Luca Bogdanovic. She was a tall young woman with a confident step, head up, shoulders back. There was something about her that reminded Antoine of the mysterious middle-aged couple.

The maid of honor, Mary Alice’s sister Ann, walked down the aisle solo, and ascended to the third step so that she was at the same level as the groom and his best man. The organist, who had been vamping on the last four bars, brought “March” to a close. She paused then commenced "The Bridal Chorus" by Wagner.

The bride came down the aisle on the arm of her father. Her dress, of course, was white. The skirt was chiffon, the bodice a shiny satin, the neckline and sleeves a slightly daring see-through lace. She wore a net cap trimmed in the same lace; a sheer train fell from the cap and her shoulders to floor and trailed three feet behind her. She looked as beautiful and happy and special as a bride should.

When they reached the apse and the music had stopped, the priest said “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?’  

“I do,” said her father. He leaned down to kiss her cheek and retreated to his seat in the first pew next his wife. As Mary Alice climbed the steps to join her maid of honor, the wedding party turned toward the bride, the groom, and the priest.

At this point, for Antoine, the show was over, and he stopped paying close attention. Music was played, hymns sung, prayers offered, words said, vows exchanged. The organ burst into Mendelssohn’s "The Wedding March", and the newly married couple paraded back up the aisle, followed in short order by the groomsmen and the bridesmaids in reverse order, two by two.

Antoine and his cherubic bridesmaid walked back up the aisle last. Having never been in a wedding party before, he was surprised to see the number of people, both men and women, who were crying. The faces of the younger women were marked with running mascara. Tears of joy, presumably.

Antoine blinked as the wedding party erupted into the bright June sunshine. It was chaos. Hugs and kisses and handshakes exchanged, “Best wishes” to the bride, “Congratulations” to the groom. As the families and guests emerged from the church, they flowed down the steps around the newlyweds, like a rushing stream around a boulder. They spread out on the sidewalk and the lawn. Antoine made his way to the edge of the crowd to get out of the crush.

Lada found him a few minutes later. “Wasn’t it wonderful? Wasn’t it just beautiful? Have you ever seen anything like it?”

“Quite the spectacle, I’ll grant you that.”

“My wedding will never be half as beautiful as that.”

“Maybe not, but the bride will be more beautiful.”

“Why Antoine Trombley! Was that a compliment?”

Antoine bowed his head. “Purely my opinion, of course. Those who prefer the fairy princess type may not agree.”

She smacked his shoulder with her bouquet. “You really know how to take the wind out of a girl’s sails.”

“What are those black smudges around your eyes?” he asked smiling.

“Oh, dear.” She opened her purse and took out a compact and looked in the mirror. “My mascara ran. Well, I’ll fix it when we get in the car.”

Just then Luca pulled up in Thomas’s car; As Pavle helped Mary Alice and Thomas into the back seat, the crowd showered them with rice and well wishes.

Randel appeared at Antoine’s elbow and asked, “Shall we go?”

Lada said “Let’s.”

The reception was scheduled to start at four, but many of the younger guests arrived early; the party was in full swing by three forty-five. As a concession to prohibition, the only alcohol served at the reception was champagne, but many guests brought their own liquor and were prepared to share. As the afternoon wore on, the atmosphere became quite convivial. There were groups of men standing and smoking cigars, talking business and sharing stock market tips. Gaggles of women discussed their children and the just-ended school year. Groups of young men and women flirted and arranged their dance cards.

The buffet-style meal was planned for six, cake cutting for seven and dancing for seven thirty. A little before six Antoine found his place card in the main tent and sat down at his seat. He discovered from the place cards that Lada’s seat was on his left and somebody named Susan Waterford was on his right. Around five fifty the servers went through the crowd asking the guests to take their seats; tables would be called one by one.

Lada showed up. “Hi, Antoine!” she said.

“Hi, Lada. Having fun?”

“Oh, yes!”

The girl he escorted down the aisle sat down at his right.

“So, you’re Susan?” he said.

“Yes, and you’re Antoine.”

“How did you know?’

“Oh, I asked around,” she said with a big smile. “Will you put your name in my dance card?”

“I’m sorry, Susan, but I don’t know how to dance.”

“How can that be?”

“Busy with other things, I guess.”

“Like what?”

“Working, racing cars.”

“You drive race cars?”

“No, I’m more of a mechanic. Just a hobby, really. A friend of mine and I own a car.”

“I could teach you an easy dance, like the waltz.”

“I don’t know.”

“Yeah, Antoine,” said Lada. “Let us teach you to dance.”

Wanting to change the subject, Antoine looked around. He saw those most intimate to the bride and groom seated at the table across from them. They included Thomas’s mother, Mary Alice’s parents, the maid of honor, Pavle Bogdanovic, and Archie Kendal. Then he noticed the middle-aged couple sitting down at the table next to them.

“Hey,” said Antoine, “anybody know who they are?”

“Who?” said Lada.

“The man and woman sitting down there. The ones with all the diamonds.”

“Oh,” said Susan, “those are the Crowninshields.”

“The who?”

“Louise and Francis Crowninshield. They’re Lydia’s godparents, I think she’s her aunt.”

“Who’s Lydia.”

“Lydia du Pont. She’s sitting right there with Archie.” She nodded her head toward the tall, blonde, confident bridesmaid.

“She’s a du Pont?” asked Antoine

“She and Mrs. Crowninshield are both du Ponts, but Lydia is one of the du Ponts. You didn’t know?

“No. How does Mary Alice know the du Ponts?”

“My mother and Mary Alice’s mother are sisters, and they’re distantly related to the du Ponts. When our grandparents passed, our families inherited a summer home on the Eastern Shore. It’s right down the beach from the du Pont cottage. More of a mansion if you ask me, but they call it a cottage. Lydia took a shine to Mary Alice and they wrote to each other constantly. I think if it weren’t for tradition and all, Mary Alice would have had Lydia as her maid of honor.”

“Really?” said Lada.

“Oh, yes! When the Crowninshields chaperoned Lydia on her grand tour, in Europe, you know, she wanted a companion her own age. She chose Mary Alice. And then they spent a year together at a finishing school in Switzerland. Brilliant something, I think.”

“Brilliant something?” said Antoine.

“The name of the school. I think it was mostly an excuse to go skiing.”

“Wow” said Lada, “The Kendals must be better off than I thought.”

“Oh, Uncle George didn’t pay for it. Lydia did. Out of her pin money or something.”

A server came by their table inviting them to get into line for dinner.

“I don’t know about you folks,” said Antoine. “But I’m hungry.”

“One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three,” said Susan.

Antoine, much to his chagrin, found himself out on the portable dance floor learning to waltz. The music had started precisely at seven and Susan was not to be denied.

“There, you’ve got it,” she said. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“I guess not.” Then he stepped on her foot. “Oh, sorry!”

“That’s fine. Going to have a misstep from time to time.” Then the music ended and another song began. “Let’s try this one,” she said.

Antoine listened to it for a moment. “I don’t think it’s a waltz.”

“It’s not; just try to move to the music.”

After he stepped on her foot for the third time, he said, “I’m afraid I might fall and hurt you.” She nodded and they walked back to their table. The light was beginning to fail; Antoine guessed it would be a little over an hour until sunset.

“I think I’m going to get some punch,” she said.

“May I get it for you?”

“No, thank you.” She fled and Antoine sat down.

“What did you do to her?” asked Lada.

“Tromped on her feet ‘til she let me go.”

“On purpose?”

“Of course not.”

Antoine saw Mary Alice working her way down the table, chatting with each groomsman and bridesmaid.

“Need to use the powder room,” said Lada. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

In short order Mary Alice sat down in Lada’s vacant seat. She put her hand on his shoulder and said “Antoine,” in warm and intimate tone.

“Mary Alice,” he replied. “It’s nice to actually meet you.”

“Likewise.” She reached into the paper bag hanging from her left wrist and retrieved a small, giftwrapped box. She handed it to him and whispered in his ear, “They’re cufflinks.”

He smiled. “They’ll come in handy, I’m sure.” He slipped the box into his coat pocket.

“Where’s Susan?”

“Scared her off, I think.”

The band started to play a waltz.

“Hey, I saw you waltzing earlier.”

“That’s a gross exaggeration.”

“Come on, I’ll let you practice on me.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“The best thing about being a bride is having one day where you get whatever you want.”

“Ok, but don’t blame me if you wind up in traction.”

She took his hand and they walked down to the dance floor.

With her right hand in his left and his right arm around her waist they began to dance. He noticed that, like Susan, Mary Alice was very soft and smelled nice.

“This isn’t so bad, is it?” she said to him while he was trying count.

He stopped. “You can’t expect me to dance and talk at the same time.”

“You must try. It’s part of the charm of dancing.” They started again. “Tommy has told me a lot about you.”

There was a pause, then he said, “I-would-not, think-there-was, much-to-tell,” in time with the steps.

She smiled. “He says you rescued him during the Indy 500 in ’25. But he wouldn’t elaborate.”

“I-am-not, sure-what-he, could-have-meant.”

“I see, so you won’t tell me either.” He looked down at his feet to avoid her eyes. She laughed and he looked up and laughed, too. Then he stepped on her foot.

“You did that on purpose.”

“Not-my-fault, you-made-me, laugh-two-three.”

“Anyway, he says you were the first non-Serbian invited to Sunday dinner. His mother and uncles really like you.”

He stopped. “They do?”

“Yes, they do.” She started them again. “And you paved the way for my visit. So, I really want to thank you for that. You’re responsible for helping me heal the rift between Tommy and his family.”

“You-are-wel, come-two-three.”

“Don’t you just love his mama?” And the music stopped. “There, that was fun, wasn’t it?”

“I can see where it might get to be fun, sort of.” She took his arm and they walked back to their tent where Thomas was sitting and talking with Lada.

Thomas said to Antoine, “What are you trying to do, steal my girl?”

“No,” said Antoine seriously. The other three laughed.

Mary Alice said, “Well, he is a better dancer than you.” Antoine looked at her thinking she was making fun of him. Seeing the looks on their faces he realized she was teasing Thomas.

“Come on, Mrs. Bogdanovic, let’s grab our last dance.” They walked hand-in-hand to the dance floor, which was now dimly illuminated by lights from the back and interior of the house.

“Antoine, aren’t you going to ask me to dance?” asked Lada.

“I can’t dance to this.”

“All you have to do is hang on and shuffle your feet.” He gave her a stubborn look. “So, you’ll dance with that Susan person and Mary Alice, but you won’t dance with your best friend?”

He was tired of being bullied, but then he realized she was his best friend. It was a dazzling thought.

“Miss Bogdanovic, would you care to dance?”

She lit up. “I would, very much, thank you. Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall.”

They had only taken a few shuffling dance steps when Lada felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see Lydia du Pont.

“May I cut in?” She asked.

Lada, surprised, stunned really, turned to a wide-eyed Antoine. “Well,” she said, “ah, well, yes, of course.” She relinquished her spot and stalked off the dance floor. Antoine found himself holding one of the richest young women in the world. Including heels and hair she was half-a-head taller than he. He found it impossible to move his feet; Lydia seemed unconcerned.

She looked down at Antoine and said, “How do you like my girl?”

“Your girl?”

“Mary Alice. I saw you dancing with her.”

“What makes her ‘your girl’?”

“Well,” she considered the question briefly. “When we met, she was common as an old shoe. I exposed her to travel, food, art, education, fashion. Now she’s a glittering example of young American womanhood.” She sighed. “But everyone finds their own level, I suppose.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, you know, I love Tommy. He’s a brilliant chemist and a handsome young gentleman. But the family?” She shivered slightly and made a small, elegant frown.

“What’s wrong with the family?”

“They’re shopkeepers and factory workers and maybe worse from what I hear. Then there’s the religion.”

Antoine let go of her hand and took his arm from around her waist. “What’s wrong with their religion?

“It’s positively medieval.”

“And ours isn’t?”

“Ours?”

“Yes, I’m a Huguenot. And a factory worker. And probably worse. The Bogdanovics are good people, and I’m proud to be their friend.” The music stopped. “It’s been a privilege chatting with you, Miss du Pont. Next time we should try to dance.” So, I can step on your feet, he thought

Lada was waiting for him at the edge of the dance floor. “What did she want?”

He shrugged. “Something about Thomas maybe. Never got to it, really.”

“What did you talk about?”

“The bride, mostly.”

“Mary Alice?”

“Yeah.”

Lada gave her head a little shake. “Come on, we have to see Tommy and Mary Alice off.”

Antoine helped Randel into the back seat of his car, where he groaned happily and passed out.

“Where did you find him?” asked Lada.

“Back at the table where he was finishing the last of God-knows-how-many drinks. He handed me his keys and said, ‘You’re just going to have to drive back to town, old man.’”

“Pip, pip and cheerio.”

“Exactly.”

They got into the car, and Lada sat in the middle of the bench seat next to Antoine. He looked at her. “Do you mind?” she asked.

“Guess not.”

He started the car, drove down to the street, and turned toward Cuyahoga Falls and Akron.

“Have you heard about their honeymoon trip?”

“No.”

“Tonight, they’re staying at this cute little inn in Kent right on the Cuyahoga river. Tomorrow they drive to Cleveland and ship the car to Wilmington. Then they take the train to Niagara and stay there for a couple of nights. After that they take a sleeper to Albany, and a boat trip down the Hudson River, which I hear is just gorgeous. Then four days in New York City at the Plaza Hotel. They’re going to night clubs and plays every night. Then they go to her parent’s place on the Eastern Shore for the last few days. Doesn’t that sound dreamy?”

“Otherworldly.”

“What I wouldn’t give for a trip like that. They’ll have lots, don’t you suppose?”

“I suppose.”

“Aren’t you jealous?”

“No.”

“Well, I am. To be young and in love and have all money you could want.”

“Does anybody have all the money they want? Even the du Ponts?”

“I don’t know, but I’d sure like to give it a try.” She stretched and yawned. “It’s been a long day. Do you mind if I sleep?”

“Not at all.”

She snuggled up to him and was asleep in very short order. So, they drove back into Akron the way they left: with her asleep on his shoulder.

He turned off the car and gently shook her shoulder. She woke slowly, eyes fluttering, wiping a little drool from the corner of her mouth.

“Where are we?”

“Your mother’s house.”

“Oh.” She looked at Randel snoring gently in the back seat. “Okay.” He opened his door and stepped out of the car. She gathered her purse and travel bag and followed him out the driver-side door. They walked across the street and up the steps to the porch.

“Thanks, Antoine.”

He smiled. “For what?”

“For taking care of me. For a wonderful day.”

“You’re welcome.”

She looked into his eyes and saw that he was only a little taller than she. She stepped forward impulsively, put her arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips. He did not respond.

“Don’t you want to kiss me, Antoine?”

“There’s no future in it, Lada. Look at how your family fought Thomas’s wedding. And he’s a man, and he’s marrying into money and connections.”

“But they must know we’re seeing each other.”

“As friends. As long as we keep it that way, they’ll turn a blind eye. The minute it becomes something more, they’ll forbid you to see me. I’d much rather continue to see you as a friend than not see you at all.”

He grasped each of her wrists and pulled her arms from around his neck. He could see the tears welling in her eyes. He kissed the knuckles on each of her hands, crossed her arms over her chest and embraced her.

He whispered into her right ear. “You know I adore you.”

She nodded.

He stepped back, patted her on the check and walked back to the car. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks as she watched him pull away from the curb.

Chapter 24

Saturday May 2, 1970

Billy Perkins looked out his bedroom window. The back of his parents’ house looked out over Firestone Country Club. He had a great view of the putting greens, driving range and other practice areas.

Although he was just a middling athlete, he had spent many happy hours practicing and playing on that course. But his best memories of the course were from the 1966 PGA Championship. His favorite golfer and native Ohioan, Jack Nicklaus, had played poorly in the tournament, finishing 22nd at 12 over par. Even so, Billy had a wonderful time following Gary Player and Arnold Palmer.

His father, William Anderson Perkins III, walked by his son’s open door and was startled to see him in his bedroom.

“Billy!” he said.

“Oh, hi, dad.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Packing,” he replied, gesturing toward a small suitcase laying on his unmade bed. It was full of green shirts, pants and socks. There were corporal strips visible on the top shirt.

“No, I mean why aren’t you at school?”

“Didn’t mom tell you?”

“I haven’t seen your mother this morning.”

“My unit’s been called up.”

The older man’s face turned ashen. “Not to… not to…”

“Of course not. We’re being deployed to Kent State.”

His father was relieved but confused. “Kent State?”

“Didn’t you hear? There was some trouble on campus last night. A riot, I guess. War protesters.”

“Damn hippies.”

“Anyway, I guess Rhodes wants some boots on the ground. I got a call from the company clerk late last night to report to the Columbus Depot by two this afternoon. I had to come home to get my uniforms. I got in after you were in bed.”

“You’re driving all the way to Columbus this morning, just so they can bring you back up here this afternoon? Seems damned inefficient.”

“That’s the pretend army for you.”

“I wish you wouldn’t call it that.”

“Everybody calls it that.”

“The National Guard has an important role in this country.”

“It does. It’s keeping me from getting my ass shot off.”

“I hope you aren’t spreading that around.”

“Don’t worry, dad. The last thing I want people to know is that I signed up for the Guard to dodge the draft.”

“Do you have time for breakfast?”

“Sure, I’m not leaving until 11.”

“Good. Let’s go to the club. I’ll see if your mom wants to get up.”

Chapter 25

Saturday July 20, 1929

Nelson sat alone in his father’s study, perspiring. The windows were open to the late July morning, through which he could see the dark, overcast sky. The clouds and humidity promised a thunderstorm by late afternoon. With the door closed there was not even whisper of air. Nelson didn’t mind; he liked to sweat.

He looked up at the charcoal drawing of his father in his football uniform. Earl McLaughlin had played varsity at Ohio State in ’07 and ’08 and seemed prouder of that than graduating with a medical degree two years later.

As he sat there, he thought about the other times he’d been in that same spot waiting for the door to slam open. Fist-fights with Les and with other boys in the neighborhood, shouting matches with Genie or his mother or Agnes, pranks he played on Wil.

The last made him snort out a laugh. When Wilson was four, Nelson offered to give him a dime if he would stick it into the electric socket. The shock knocked Wilson halfway across the living room. When Wil was six, Nelson and Lester had dropped Wilson down the laundry chute. Les and Nelson started on the first floor and dropped him into the laundry cart full of fluffed up sheets. Wilson loved it and begged, “Do it again, Nels, do it again!” He wasn’t so thrilled when they dropped him from the second floor and when they took him up to the third floor he started screaming. Agnes came out of her room and caught them. The housekeeper went to their father, and he got worst spanking of his life. But it had been worth it hearing little Willie squeal.

Then there was the time that he found the Christmas fruit cake. He was walking down the basement stairs on his way to shovel coal when he spotted it on the bottom shelf of the overflow pantry. He walked by it twice a day for a week and eventually succumbed; I’ll just take a little bite, he thought. Over the course of the next two weeks, he ate one little bite after another until more than three quarters of the cake was gone. The week before Christmas, Genie had caught him at it and, rather than tattle, helped him eat the rest.

After their traditional Christmas dinner of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, his father clapped his hands and rubbed them together with relish. “Nels,” he’d said, “go get the fruit cake.”

His mother said, “It’s in the overflow pantry on the bottom shelf.”

Of course, he went down and found nothing; he’d long since brushed away all the crumbs. He called up the stairs, “Hey, Mom, I don’t see it.”

“Well, for goodness sake!” She got up from the table and joined her son in the basement. She turned and looked at him. “It was right here,” she said pointing to the empty spot on the bottom shelf. Nelson looked at her and shrugged.

They returned to the dining room. “It’s not there, Earl.”

“Where is it, then?”

“I don’t know. I know I put it there.”

He eyed his eldest son. “Laura, please sit down. You, too, Nelson.” They sat and he looked angrily around the table at each face. He saw shocked looks from Laura, Agnes, Les and Wil. Genie would not meet his eye and Nelson had a blank look on his face.

He turned back to his daughter. “What do you know about this Genie? Look at me.” She looked up; there were tears in her eyes.

Knowing his pinkie was caught in the door jam, Nelson said, “Genie and I ate it.”

Genie piped in, “I only ate a little bit, he’d already eaten most of it.”

“Is that true, Nelson?” asked his father.

Nelson resisted shooting his sister a dirty look. “Yes.”

“I see. Go and bring all your Christmas gifts to the dining room.”

“What about Genie.”

“I will deal with her later!”

Nelson left the room and returned with a bag of marbles, a yo-yo (which was all the rage that year), a large, balsa wood model airplane kit and his stocking which still held a few little toys and some candy. He laid them on the dining room table in front of his father. 

“Where’s the basketball?”

“Oh, I forgot.”

“Like hell you did!” Nelson left and returned with the ball.

“Now, go to your room.”

Later that evening his father had come up and told Nelson that he was disappointed in him, and that his selfishness had ruined Christmas for the entire family. He had cried a little after his father left.

It hadn’t turned out too badly, though. His father had given the ball back in the spring once the weather was nice enough to play in the driveway. He’d given Nelson the model plane back after school was out. He built it and flew it enough to almost wear out the rubber band that drove the prop. He was bored with it by early July, and on the Fourth he took his friends out to the West High athletic fields and blew it up in flight with two large firecrackers. Most satisfying.

Nelson heard a patient leave his father’s office, which occupied three large rooms on the first floor of the house. A moment later he heard his father’s footsteps advance from the office to the study, and the door slid back with a crash. Earl stood in the doorway for a moment scowling at the boy. He closed the door behind him with an equally loud crash and strode to the swivel chair behind the desk.

“Explain yourself,” Earl demanded quietly, barely containing his anger.

“Explain…?” said Nelson coolly.

Earl slammed his fist on the desk. “Tell me what happened!”

“Oh. Well, I couldn’t sleep so I took the car out for a drive.”

“My car.”

“Yes, your car.” His father owned a 1926 Cadillac Suburban which he used to make house calls. It was large enough to accommodate the entire family, including Agnes, for the fifteen-minute trip to church and other family outings.

“Where were you going?”

“Nowhere. Just around the block.”

“And where did the police stop you?”

“On Market Street.”

“More than fifteen blocks away.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“And how long has this been going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play the innocent with me, Nelson!” he thundered. “Thinking back, I realize that there have been times when I’ve gotten into the car and it did not seem to be exactly where I left it. And there have been times when I had to adjust the seat. How long have you been taking MY car out at night!”

“A couple of years.”

“Since you were twelve?” At twelve, Nelson had been five-eight and a solid 145 pounds; he could easily pass as an adult at night. At fourteen he was five-eleven and 170 pounds.

“Yes.”

Earl longed to ask him how he had learned to drive but didn’t want to muddy an already murky sinkhole.

“Are you mad? You could have killed somebody. You could have killed yourself.”

“But I didn’t.”

“You don’t think the rules apply to you, do you?” Nelson was quite sure they did, especially when he got caught breaking them, but he made no reply, and Earl lost his temper. “Do you have any idea how mortifying it is to have the police, the police, by God, show up on your doorstep at four o’clock in the morning with your son in tow? And have that policeman question my authority as a father? Why, I have a good mind to beat you within an inch of your life.”

There was something in Nelson’s posture that communicated he wasn’t going to cooperate with that program. Earl sat back and took a breath. A little of the color went out of his face, and his voice went cold.

“Instead I am going punish you in a way that is much more painful.” He paused. “You will be grounded to your room, except for meals, church and such chores as I assign you, until the start of school in September.”

Earl was surprised to see a look of disappointment steal across his son’s face. Even as a small child Nelson took punishments with stoical equanimity. Nelson started to speak but stopped and looked down at his shoes.

“Do you have something to say?”

“What about football practice?”

The question brought Earl up short; in his anger he had not thought through the consequences of the punishment. Nelson had signed up to play on his first organized football team, and preseason practice started in less than two weeks. Nelson had dominated the neighborhood games for years; both father and son were eager to see how he would fare against the boys city-wide.

Earl leaned across the desk and said with some compassion, “Look at me, Nelson.” Nelson raised his head, keeping hope off his face. “This is serious. Quite aside from my embarrassment, what you did was dangerous. What if you had killed or injured somebody? How would that make you feel? How do you think your mother and I would feel if you’d hurt yourself? We’re responsible for you. It would’ve been our fault. I have no choice but to punish you. You understand that don’t you?”

Nelson’s head dropped again and he nodded.

“But I am willing to make a deal with you.” Nelson looked up. “I am willing to let you go to football practice, but there are certain concessions I want in return.”

“Concessions?”

Earl ticked off the points on his fingers, “Firstly, your grounding will be extended two weeks to make up for the time you’re at practice.

“Secondly, you will accept and abide by the terms of your punishment. You will not badger your mother or Agnes or me to let you out of your grounding.

“Thirdly, you will make a good effort at completing all the chores I give you.”

“What kind of chores?”

“Well, the shed needs a coat of paint; the yard could use some weeding. Things of that nature.”

Nelson nodded.

“Next, you will come and go to practice in a timely manner. No hanging about afterward to avoid your grounding. I will be sure to discuss this with Coach Edwards.

“If you fail in any of these things, we will take you out of football for the year.”

“Finally, if you ever repeat this shenanigan, we will pull you out of whatever sport you are currently playing. You will never have a driver’s license as long as you live in this house and you will never drive a car that belongs to me.” Earl paused. “Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes.”

“Do you agree?”

Nelson nodded, “Yes.”

“Very, well. I am going to write a letter, a sort of contract, just so there is no doubt about my expectations. You will make a copy, we’ll both sign them, and I want you to pin your copy to the inside of your bedroom door. Will you do that?”

“Yes.”

“Now go to your room. I don’t expect to see you until dinner time. Afterward we’ll take a walk around the house and yard and pick out some things for you to do.”

Without another word Nelson got to his feet, turned, walked out of the study and up the stairs.

Chapter 26

Monday August 26 and Thursday August 29, 1929

Antoine stepped out into the sweltering summer evening and doffed his protective gear. His coverall was nearly soaked through and weighed more than three times as much wet as dry. Thank God it’s almost September, he thought. He walked to his usual lunch spot and sat down.

“Hi, Bandit!” Antoine looked up and saw Joey DeLuca grinning down at him.

“Joey,” replied Antoine noncommittally.

“Mind if I join ya?”

“Suit yourself.”

Joey sat down, pulled out his lunch and said, “Ain’tcha tired of wearin’ that rig?”

“Come on, Joey, give it a rest.”

“I ain’t givin’ ya the business, really I ain’t. Me an’ the boys,” he gestured to the men at his usual lunch spot, “think it’s a marvel you’re still wearin’ that thing. Folks was bettin’ ya wouldn’t last through June. And here we are, end o’ August.”

Antoine grinned. “I have to admit, there were times I almost gave it up.”

DeLuca chuckled and took a bite of his sandwich. “Look, I’d like to talk to ya serious for a minute.”

“Okay.” Antoine said guardedly.

DeLuca spoke with his mouth full. “Did ya know Charlie Bolton?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Not surprised; he was first shift. Anyway, he quit an’ moved back to Alabama or Mississippi or some other godforsaken place.”

“Yeah?”

“He was our Rep; his spot in the Assembly is open.”

Antoine knew this was coming, but Morrison had told him to act surprised and play a little hard to get. He didn’t have to do much acting; DeLuca was the last person he expected to make the approach.

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“We been talkin’, me and the boys” said DeLuca, “and we wantcha to go to bat for us. In the Assembly.”

“Look, I just want to eat my lunch in peace.”

“We’re serious.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just a kid.”

“Over twenty-five, ain’tcha.”

“Yeah.”

“Worked here over a year, ain’tcha?”

“So, what?”

“That’s enough to run for the House. Why not you? You’re smart.”

“What makes you think that?”

“We heared ya talk. I bet Ralphie ya finished high school.”

“Lots of dummies graduate from high school.”

“But’cha did graduate.”

“Sure.”

Deluca called over his gang, “Hey, Ralphie, ya owe me a nickel.” One of the men raised a hand in acknowledgement. “In this crowd that makes ya an educated man. And ya ain’t no dummy. That getup is right smart.”

“Maybe you should give it a try.”

DeLuca shook his head. “Not me, I ain’t that smart! I gotta say, ya must be one tough little motherfucker.” He stuffed the rest of his sandwich into his mouth and gave it a few chews. “Did ya know everybody in the Assembly is on the first shift?”

“That doesn’t seem right.”

“It ain’t.” DeLuca looked Antoine in the eye. “There’s this guy I know, name o’ Franklin Farmer. He’s a Senator. He thinks there ought to be guys from the other shifts. You’uns should talk.”

“About the Assembly?”

“Yes.”

“Well,” Antoine squinted at DeLuca, “can’t hurt to talk.”

“That’s the spirit!” DeLuca gathered his things and got up. “Been nice talkin’ to ya, Bandit.” Then he got a sheepish look on his face. “I just realized, I don’t know your real name.”

“Oh, it’s Antoine Trombley.”

“Antoine,” he said and nodded. “I’ll set that meeting for the next day or so.”

Antoine waved an acknowledgement as the lunch period whistle blew.

Three nights later Antoine clocked out, and once outside he removed his gear and put it in his satchel; DeLuca joined him and they walked out the gate. Across the street a man leaned against a relatively new Model T.

DeLuca shook hands with the man. “Frank,” he said, “this is Antoine Trombley. Antoine, Frank Farmer.”

“How do you do, Mr. Farmer?” They shook hands.

“Call me Frank.”

“Frank.”

“I hear they call you Bandit.” Antoine nodded. “Although, perhaps you don’t like that.”

Antoine shrugged. “At least everybody knows who I am. Even if they don’t know what I look like.”

Farmer handed the keys to DeLuca. “Why don’t you drive, Joey? It’ll give Antoine and me a chance to get to know each other.”

DeLuca climbed into the driver’s seat while Farmer motioned Antoine into the back.

“Tell me about yourself, Antoine.”

“What would you like know?”

“Where did you go to high school?”

“East.”

“You graduated?” Antoine nodded. “Grades?” Antoine shrugged. “You attend church?”

“Yes. I go to First Presbyterian.”

“You’re a believer, then?”

“I’m not sure that’s any of your business.”

“It’s a question that’s likely to be asked.”

“And if I say ‘No’?”

“Then it will probably get back to your mother. Is that what you want?”

“My mother died in ‘18.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

Antoine felt no compulsion to tell him about Sarah.

Farmer looked out the window. “Let’s go at this another way. Do you believe in any Bible teaching? For example, do you believe in ‘Do unto others as you would have them do unto you’?”

“Sure.”

“Then you are a believer of some kind.”

“But that’s not what they’re asking.”

“How do you know what they’re asking?” Antoine looked stubborn. “Well, you’ll need an answer to that question. We can help you with the questions, if not the answers.” Antoine was quiet. “This makes you uncomfortable?”

“Not necessarily. I’m just thinking it over.”

“Good.”

“Any other questions?”

“You live with your family?”

“Yes.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m comfortable at home. I pay my father rent and that goes directly into my kid brother’s college fund.”

“Your brother’s a good student?”

“My brother’s good at everything.”

“Such as?”

“Math, French, history, basketball…”

“What a minute, your brother’s Jimmy Trombley.”

“Yeah. You heard of him?”

“Hell, yeah. I watched him play against Canton in the regionals last year; they almost pulled that one out. An exciting game, eh?”

“That’s what I hear. I don’t get to see him play much. I’m usually at work.”

“Ah, yes. Still it can’t hurt to have a big-time high school athlete in the family.

“Really?”

“Oh, yes! This is the kind of stuff I need to know. This is why we needed to have this talk.”

Antoine nodded.

“What does your father do?”

“He’s a carpenter.”

“Why aren’t you in that trade?”

“Just didn’t interest me.”

“And working in a rubber plant does?”

“I like cars. The thought of a Ford or a Chevy driving around in Chicago or New York on a tire I helped make, I don’t know, it’s exciting to me.”

“Huh!” Farmer nodded to himself. “Where’d you work before Goodyear?”

“Bainey Rubber.”

Farmer looked surprised. “At the Massillon plant?”

“No, the main office on State Street.”

“Doing what?”

“I was the lab janitor and training to be a lab assistant.”

“Odd that you didn’t get something better than factory work.”

Antoine shrugged. “It’s what I was offered. I keep in touch with Mr. Bainey, but nothing’s come up. I’m making the best of it.”

Farmer turned to look out the window again. Antoine watched the dark streets go by. It was amazing how quickly a car got through the quiet city.

“What about labor unions?” asked Farmer still looking out the window.

“What about them?”

“Would a labor union be better than the Assembly?” Farmer looked back at Antoine.

“I don’t see how. The bosses won’t talk to them. Strikes don’t work. The company just hires new workers. What’s left? Clubs? Guns? The police and the company have more muscle. At least the Assembly gives us a voice.”

 “What makes you think you’re qualified to be in the Assembly?”

“I don’t know that I am. Not really sure what you do. In the Assembly, I mean.”

“A lot of different things. We discuss issues, draft proposals. We negotiate with management. We meet with Litchfield himself on occasion.” Paul Litchfield was the President of Goodyear.

“No doubt I’d have a lot to learn. But I’m willing.”

DeLuca stopped the car and turned off the engine. Antoine saw they were outside his house. That was quick, he thought. DeLuca turned so he could see both men in the back seat. Farmer looked up at DeLuca. DeLuca nodded, and Farmer nodded back.

“I like your attitude, Trombley. I think you’re our kind of man. I’d be willing to back you if you’d like my support and advice.”

“That would be kind of you, Mr. Farmer.”

“Frank, Antoine, call me Frank.”

“Frank.”

“Here’s what you should do: go down to the plant early in the day tomorrow and go the Personnel Office. There’s a form you need to fill out; they’ll give you the official petition. Then you need 70 signatures, but 100 would be better. And you should get some signatures from each shift.”

“I don’t know that many people on second shift and don’t know anybody from first or third.”

“I’ll help ya get the signatures,” said DeLuca. “Don’t worry, it’s a piece o’ cake.”

“Then, late next week maybe, you should get to the plant a little early and stay a little late to hand out leaflets at the shift change.”

“Leaflets? What leaflets?”

“It’ll be something simple; just something to let the fellas know you’re running.”

“I don’t have money for leaflets.”

“That’s okay,” said Farmer. “We’ve a little campaign money for our friends.”

“Oh.”

Farmer offered his hand, “It’s been nice talking with you, Antoine.” Antoine nodded and took it.

“See ya tomorrow, Antoine,” said DeLuca.

“Yes, goodnight.”

Antoine got out of the car, and, as it pulled away, he wondered how DeLuca knew where he lived.

Chapter 27

Tuesday September 12, 1929

The leaflet amused Antoine. It had a crude line drawing of him in his bandana, goggles and cap. It said:

A vote for 

Antoine “Bandit” Trombley

  

(Drawing)

 

Is a vote for

 

SAFETY!

 

 Antoine and Joey DeLuca were handing out leaflets at the 4:00 pm shift change. DeLuca was laughing and shaking hands and greeting his pals from the first shift. Antoine was just handing out the leaflets, hardly looking at the faces of the men coming into the plant for work.

A large hand with knobby, scarred knuckles took a leaflet. “What FUCK this!” said the man in a thick Eastern European accent.

Antoine looked up at the man. It was Bruno Krakowski; he was tall and thick with huge shoulders, arms, chest and thighs. He had blonde, close-cropped hair, a sloping forehead, and a broad face and nose. His blonde eyebrows rippled with scar tissue. He outweighed Antoine by at least a hundred pounds. He terrified Antoine.

“What fuck SAY?” growled Krakowski, shoving the leaflet in Antoine’s face.

“I’m running for the Assembly.”

“I hear you running.” Krakowski pushed Antoine in the chest. “I hear you stooge for bigger stooge.”

He pushed Antoine again. Men from both shifts began to form a circle around them. Antoine heard a voice from the crowd say “This won’t take long.”

“What do you mean stooge?”

Krakowski went to push him again and Antoine put out his arm to block it. Krakowski’s rock-hard hand hit Antoine’s elbow and he felt his arm go numb. Krakowski swung a fist at Antoine’s head. He ducked and the fist grazed the top of his head. Antoine fell to the paving stones; the leaflets went flying.

Krakowski stood over him. “Get up, tchórz!”

Then Josif and Kuzman Ljubičić stepped out into the circle.

Josif said, “How you doing, Bruno?”

Krakowski looked surprised and said nothing.

“You okay, Antoine?” asked Kuzman.

“I think so.”

The brothers split, flanking Krakowski. “Why don’t you back off, Bruno, and let Antoine get up.”

“You protect this dupek?”

“You hear anything different?

“FUCK this.” Krakowski stepped over Antoine; his right boot made contact with Antoine’s ribs.

Some in the crowd groaned in disappointment. Then they split up, half going out the gate, the other half toward the plant.

“Are you okay?” DeLuca helped Antoine to his feet.

“Yes,” said Antoine, badly shaken.

They gathered up the scattered leaflets and walked to the plant to clock in. An hour later Goodyear security came and took Krakowski away, and that was the last they saw him in the plant.

Chapter 28

Saturday May 2, 1970

Just before 9:30 pm Stephen Bogdanovic and Bob Carlton tiptoed from one deep building’s shadow to the next; they carried a milk carton between them. Stephen carried a fire ax in his left hand.

A hundred yards from the ROTC building Bob stopped. “Do you hear that?” he said.

“Hear what?”

“Sounds like chanting,” said Bob.

“Come on,” said Stephen, tugging on the milk carton.

They went another sixty yards and put their burdens down in the shadow of the chapel. They peeked around the corner and saw the white, wood-framed ROTC building. People, perhaps a hundred or fewer, were marching around the building in single file.

“What are they saying?” whispered Bob.

“Not sure. Could be, ‘Hell no we won’t go.’”

“We didn’t plan for this. What do we do?”

“We go as planned. You run around to the other guys and let them know we go as planned. But at 10:00 instead of 9:45.”

“Ok.”

Bob ran off. Stephen watched the protesters march around the building. There was a woman carrying a sign that he couldn’t make out. There was a street light at her nearest approach and he started to put it together. It said “BOMBING FOR PEACE IS LIKE FUCKING FOR VIRGINITY.” It was the first time he’d seen that one; he grinned.

Bob came back out of breath. “Ok… every… body… is set.”

Stephen looked at the luminous dial of his watch. “Three minutes.” He took a Molotov cocktail out of the milk carton.

At precisely 10:00, Stephen and Bob dashed out of the shadows, running for the ROTC building. He stopped outside the line of protestors and held the bottle out; Bob lit the kerosene-soaked rag with a lighter. Stephen threw it over the heads of the protesters. The fragile bottle landed just short of the building and broke against the concrete foundation. The fuse lit the aerosolized gasoline which ignited the liquid gasoline and motor oil on the ground and building. Two more Molotov cocktails came out of the night and crashed against the building.

The protesters screamed and scattered in every direction.

Stephen sauntered back to their spot behind the chapel. Bob was already there. “Will it burn?” he asked.

“Settle down, man. This is just the first round. Give me your lighter.”  

Stephen and Bob watched the building. It was clear that only two of the three fire bombs had caught. That’s fine, thought Stephen. Then they heard a siren approaching. Stephen looked his watch; it said 10:07. Somebody must have been watching the protest, he thought.

At 10:12 two firetrucks arrived, a tanker truck and a ladder truck. Four firemen leaped to the ground, and hurried to hook up hoses between the two trucks. In short order one of the two firemen dragged a fire hose to a spot where it could spray both fires.

As soon as water struck fire, Stephen shouted “Now!” All six young men ran out of the shadows again, this time carrying the milk cartons between them. They put down the cartons and began to hurl the rocks at the firemen.

The firemen put up their arms to ward off rocks; some bounced off their helmets. When they realized they were under assault, they fled. Five of the young men advanced on the firemen, continuing to throw rocks, while Stephen attacked the fire hose with his ax.

Stephen swung at the hose with the pickax end, but the hose was hard as a rock from water pressure, and it just slid away, barely damaged, from his off-center strikes. He hit the hose two, three, four, five times. Finally, he took a deep breath and careful aim; his sixth swing punctured the hose. The water pressure knocked the ax out of his hands and the hose went whipping out into the night; he wasn’t sure where either went.

“Fire! Fire! Fire!” Stephen shouted.

He and two of the other young men went back to their milk cartons and retrieved their second Molotov cocktail. Stephen lit his fuse and threw the bottle against the foundation; he was rewarded with an eruption of fire.

“Go! Go! Go!” Stephen shouted.

They recovered their milk cartons and ran off. Once off campus, they went behind a row of small restaurants and shops, and dropped the milk cartons into a dumpster. They heard more sirens and looked back toward campus. They could see the red glow from the burning ROTC building. Then they heard popping, as the fire set off the ammunition stored in the building.

“Holy shit!” said Bob.

Stephen just smiled and walked away.

The M113 Armored Personnel Carrier crawled up the street toward the ROTC building. The officers rode in the APC and the sergeants rode on it. Two platoons of National Guardsmen walked beside and behind the APC, each carrying an M1 Garand rifle with fixed bayonet.

They could see light coming from up ahead; then they turned the corner and found the ROTC building in flames.

“Holy shit!” said one of the Guardsmen behind Billy Perkins.

Holy shit, indeed, thought Billy, but he said, “Keep the chatter down.”

The APC rolled up to the burning building. Billy saw fire trucks and firemen standing around, and wondered what they were doing. The rear door of the APC opened and the two lieutenants stepped out. Lieutenant Avery huddled up with his platoon, but Lieutenant Butterfield, Billy’s commanding officer, stayed in the shadow of APC and conferred with his two sergeants.

Just then another set of firetrucks arrived on the scene, and firemen began to deploy their hoses, but they were too late. The building was already engulfed.

Then Billy’s NCO, Sergeant Wilcox, gathered up his squad. “Our job here is to secure this whole open area around the ROTC building. We have the southwest corner. Follow me.” He started off in that direction and called out to Billy. “Corporal Perkins!”

Billy trotted to catch up with him. “Yes, Sergeant?”

“Take your half of the squad and secure those two buildings,” he said pointing to the southmost structures.

“Yes, sergeant.”

He peeled off and his men followed him.

“Hey, Billy,” said Sandy Ritter.

Billy cut him off, “This is looking pretty serious Private Ritter. You should address me as Corporal Perkins, or Corporal.”

“Yes, Corporal. Permission to speak, Corporal.”

Billy smiled at him. “Shoot.”

“Do you think there are any snipers around here?”

“What? No. No, of course not.”

“Then why is Butterball taking cover at the APC.”

Billy looked back at the Lieutenant. “Why do you call him Butterball?”

“Point taken.”

Billy had just gotten his men lined up about twenty feet apart in front of his assigned buildings when Sergeant Wilcox came jogging up to him.

“Corporal Perkins! What are your men doing looking at the fire?”

“Sergeant?”

“We’re keeping agitators out, not firemen in.”

“Yes, Sergeant.” He turned and barked, “About face!” The men turned and came to attention with their rifles held in front of them.

“Parade Rest!” shouted Sergeant Wilcox. The men spread their feet shoulder width, set the butts of their rifles on the ground holding them by the bayonet grip. Speaking in a more private tone, Wilcox said, “Give each of your men a rest every fifteen minutes. It’s going to be a long night.” He looked at the dying fire. “The show’s over for now. Ain’t going to be nothing more happening tonight.”

Chapter 29

Friday September 15, 1929

Antoine went to check his customary carrel on the second floor of the library and looked at the right front edge of the desk, where he found a thumb tack. He removed the tack, pushed it into the underside of the desk, and turned back toward the stairs. He found Lance Morrison’s car at their usual meeting place.

He slid into the passenger seat and immediately sensed a presence, a scent, a weight, a malevolent spirit emanating from the back seat. He turned and saw Bruno Krakowski. He fell back against the dashboard and started to slide out the open passenger door.

Morrison reached out and caught his arm. “Whoa, there, Antoine. Close the door; you’re going to hurt yourself.”

Bruno’s face was lit up in a wicked grin that showed a missing canine and lower incisor. “Ha, ha, ha, ha,” he laughed. “Surprise you, eh?”

“What…what…what…” said Antoine.

“He works for me,” said Morrison.

“What?”

“Yeah. For almost as long as you have. He’s coming on with me full time. His last job at the plant was to put on that little show with you and the Ljubičić brothers.”

“Show?”

“I good actor, no?”

“That was a show? You should have warned me.”

Morrison shook his head. “It had to seem real. We weren’t sure you could pull it off. As it was, it went perfect.”

“What the hell? I was terrified. And humiliated.”

“Nonsense. You didn’t run away; you didn’t pee your pants. You even tried to defend yourself.”

Antoine rubbed the bruise on his left elbow and looked back at Bruno. Bruno shrugged as if to say “Sorry.”

“What was the point?”

“It accomplished a number of things.” Morrison ticked off the points on his fingers. “First, the way it happened, it looked gutsy. Doesn’t matter how you felt, that’s the way it played.

“Second, it was the talk of the plant. Even third shift heard about it. Anybody who didn’t know you yesterday, knows you today.

“Third, it showed you’re still under the protection of the Bogdanovic family. You are now safer in the plant than ever.

“Fourth, the protection of the Bogdanovic family and the connection with Farmer puts you in a unique position. You need to be in with the company faction for the long-term, and being in with the Bogdanovic family will make others more comfortable voting for you.”

“It was a damn dirty trick.”

“It was, Antoine, it certainly was. But, as it stands now, you’re practically a shoo-in. A few more days of handing out leaflets and a decent speech at the worker rally and, come October 8th, you’ll be in the Assembly.”

Antoine glanced back at Krakowski, then turned back to Morrison “Do you pay the Ljubičić brothers, too?”

“Oh, no.”

“Is the Bogdanovic family paying you?”

“No.” Morrison thought for moment. “You might call some elements of the family fellow travelers.”

“Are you paying Farmer?”

“No. If we had him, we wouldn’t need you.”

“Of course.” Antoine cocked his head toward Krakowski. “What’s his job.”

“He’s just a handy fella to have around.”

“I can imagine.”

“Nice, yes?” said Krakowski. “Me, you, still same work, eh?”

“Sure thing.”

Morrison reached into the interior breast pocket of his suit coat and withdrew an envelope. “Here’s your monthly squeeze,” he said handing the envelope to Antoine. “The bump for starting your campaign is in there. I expect another bump in October. But don’t get cocky, kid. Just stay the course, right?”

Antoine nodded.

“I’ll see you next week with a draft of your speech. It’ll be short and sweet. If you want to make suggestions that would be fine; you can give them to me the week after. Then we’ll have the final draft Friday before the rally. How does that sound?”

“Fine.”

“Anything else?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Very good. See you next Friday.”

Antoine nodded and got out of the car. Krakowski and Morrison also got out and switched places. Krakowski started the car, waved to Antoine and drove away. 

Chapter 30

Econ 302 – American Economic Theory

The Great Depression 1929 – 1941

Denny McLaughlin

1.0  Introduction

The way economists measure a depression, the Great Depression ended in late 1933 when the economy stopped shrinking and started growing again. But the way most people view the Great Depression, in terms of pain and suffering, it lasted until at least 1941.

My parents grew up in that era, and I once asked my mother, “What caused the Depression?” She replied, “I have no earthly idea.” The Depression was something she tried and failed to put behind her. I chose this topic for my paper in an effort to understand some of the large-scale forces and events that shaped her world.

What caused the Great Depression? Every “expert” gives different answers to this question depending on their political views, area of specialization, and distance in time from the events. To my mind there were two major components: the mass psychology of the time and the structural faults in the economic institutions.

2.0 Psychological components

2.1 Psychological component 1 - Over-confidence led to recklessness

2.1.1 American contributions in World War I

In 1914, long before the US entered the war, the opposing European powers settled into fortified trenches that stretched from the Belgian coast to the Swiss border. They were equally matched in munitions and manpower. They huddled in their trenches, in rain, in snow, and in blazing heat. They killed each other with rifles, bayonets, grenades, mortar shells, machine guns, artillery bombardments and poison gas.

It was a pointless meat grinder that chewed up millions of men and gained no ground for either side. It went on for year after bloody year. By March 1918, when the first division-strength force of American soldiers arrived in France, both sides were nearly exhausted. Both had suffered mutinies, desertions, and mass surrenders. Then, surprisingly, in a series of attacks starting in late July 1918, the Allies broke through, rolled up the German lines, and routed the German army.

In August 1918 America had barely a half million soldiers in the field. The total number of soldiers at the front, evenly split between the two sides was, perhaps, fourteen to sixteen million. The relatively small number of American soldiers was inconsequential.

The thing that broke the German army was the prospect of facing America’s manufacturing might, agricultural output and the three-a-and-half million additional American soldiers in training. The French and British dropped leaflets behind the German lines to make sure the common German soldiers knew it.

However, Americans have always believed that the American army landed in France, took on the German army and saved the Limeys and Frogs from the clutches of the slavering Huns.

The American public was elated; in this mistaken frame of mind they launched themselves into the Roaring Twenties.

2.1.2 Strong economic growth fueled unrealistic expectations

The American economy grew by almost 50% between July 1921 and July 1929.

American factories turned out washing machines, refrigerators, vacuum cleaners, electric razors, radios, and of course automobiles. The population of manufacturing centers exploded and a building boom followed. This was the birth of the consumer economy, and Americans bought everything on credit.

The stock market, traditionally a reserve of the wealthy, saw a flood of money as more and more working people joined the rush. Buying securities on margin became commonplace, and nobody borrowed money to buy blue chip stocks. Buying on margin was all about speculation and getting rich quick.

In October 1929, England's Chancellor of the Exchequer called America's stock market "a perfect orgy of speculation". In the following days, the Wall Street Journal and the New York Times printed editorials of agreement. The Secretary of the Treasury, Andrew Mellon, commented that investors behaved as if “the price of securities would infinitely advance."

2.2 Psychological component 2 – The old rules no longer apply

2.2.1 Advances in technology

Inventors, engineers, entrepreneurs and industrialists such as Thomas Edison, Alexander Graham Bell, and Henry Ford reshaped the American psychological landscape.

 The emerging telephone network would eventually allow one person to converse with any other person in any other American city. The radio networks brought the country’s actors, musicians and politicians into the comfort of America’s front rooms. The electric power grid drove the night from streets and homes and powered the machines on American assembly lines.

 2.2.2 Advances in science

 The American astronomer, Edwin Hubble, demonstrated that the universe was vastly larger than anybody had previously thought. He showed that some nebulae, thought to be clouds of gas and dust, were actually enormous groups of stars, similar to the Milky Way, but located far outside of it. His discovery refashioned human understanding of the universe and our place in it.

 The most well-known scientist in the world was the German, Albert Einstein. While very few people understood his theories, he was famous for revolutionizing the study of physics. After his theory of gravity was proven to be correct, he made a lecture tour of America to packed auditoriums in 1921.

 Many people understood that Einstein’s work spurred revolutions in chemistry and physics. Special Relativity proposed a new framework for physics with his conceptualizations of time, space, matter and energy. General Relativity overturned Newtonian physics and led to a deeper understanding of mass and gravity. Einstein’s paper on the photoelectric effect energized a generation of physicists and their exploration of quantum and atomic theories.

 2.2.3 The Women’s Movement

 Women and women’s organizations were behind the most momentous political movements of the early 20th Century, and they spearheaded the passage of two Constitutional Amendments.

 2.2.3.1 The 18th Amendment

 The Woman's Christian Temperance Union (WCTU) was instrumental in the passage of the legislation that prohibited the sale of alcohol. While the amendment was ratified in 1919, it did not go into effect until 1920.

 In the first year of Prohibition, the WCTU appeared to have met their goals. The per capita consumption of the alcohol had dropped by 75%. Unfortunately for the Temperance Movement, alcohol use is deeply embedded in our culture and history. People have been fermenting beer and wine for at least 5,000 years. For a large part of early American history weak beer was safer to drink than water, and people of every age, even young children, drank it.

 Additionally, the Amendment proposed to prohibit “intoxicating liquors”, and most people expected that beer and wine to be excluded from the ban. However, the Volstead act, the law that implemented the amendment, banned all alcoholic beverages.

 It is little wonder that many people decided the government couldn’t stop them from drinking. By 1929 the per capita consumption had risen to 60% above the pre-Prohibition level.

Blatant disregard of the federal statute led to an acceptance of the black market in alcohol. Gangs of bootleggers fought battles in the street over the right to distribute and sell it. The most ruthless gangs formed criminal networks that stretched from coast to coast and used a substantial portion of their new wealth to corrupt police, judges and elected officials for the purpose of avoiding arrest and prosecution. Many of these organizations are still with us today selling other illegal drugs and pursuits.

 It was clear that the 18th Amendment was a failure, and it was repealed in 1933.

 2.2.3.2 The 19th Amendment

 In 1890, after many decades of agitation by various competing women’s suffrage groups, Susan B. Anthony, Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Lucy Stone came together to form the National American Woman Suffrage Association (NAWSA).

 The NAWSA fought for voting rights at both the federal and state levels; by 1917 they had won full voting rights for women in 11 states and partial voting rights in 27 others. The Senate adopted the Amendment in 1919 and the Tennessee legislature approved it in August 1920, giving it the 36 states required for ratification.  

 The NAWSA is still an important part of the political landscape today under the name it assumed after the adoption of the amendment – the League of Women Voters.

 The 19th amendment encouraged women to define and explore new roles. The most jarring example at the time, and the most superficial, were the flappers: young women who eschewed chaperonage, dressed provocatively, wore highly stylized makeup, frequented speakeasies, danced lasciviously, and self-consciously smoked cigarettes in public.

 While the 19th Amendment was not the first or last victory in the struggle for equal rights, it was pivotal, and it gave women a powerful weapon to continue the struggle.

2.0 Structural faults in economic institutions

2.1 The Gold Standard

 The US government started printing the first, real, long-term paper currency in 1915. That currency was pegged to the International Gold Standard at about 20 dollars an ounce. The Gold Standard gave people, who were used to coinage, the sense that the paper money had real value, since it could be exchanged for gold at any time. It also allowed currency exchange rates to be set for the purpose of international trade.

 However, there were a number of structural issues with the Gold Standard:

1. The amount of gold in the world was not fixed. When major new sources were discovered, the value of every government’s gold reserve dropped, which devalued the currency.

2. One important tool used to stimulate a sagging economy is to increase the money supply. When on the Gold Standard, a government can only print paper money equal to the value of its gold reserve.

3. In tough economic times, many people hoard gold as a hedge against an uncertain future. In 1929 hoarding reduced the gold reserve and therefore reduced the money supply at exactly the time when the economy needed more. 

2.1 Banking regulations

 2.1.1 Bank instability

Banks make money by lending out the funds that come from their depositors. Generally speaking, banks keep a reserve of about 10% of deposits on hand to service depositors’ needs. During times of growth, that 10% is plenty. Prior to the establishment of the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation in 1933, depositors often made runs on their banks during economic downturns. No bank can withstand a sustained run. Historically, this was the most common cause of bank failures.

The Federal Reserve Act of 1913 was an attempt to address the bank solvency issue. It established twelve Federal Districts, each with its own reserve bank. The Federal Reserve Banks collected a portion of the 10% reserve from member banks as a pool of money that member banks could draw on to cover temporary shortfalls.

Unfortunately, only a small percentage of banks were members of the Federal Reserve System in 1929, and there was never enough reserve to cover a large number of bank failures.

2.2 Reserve Rules

One form of paper “money” that has been around for centuries are checks drawn on banks. The Federal Reserve also acted as a clearinghouse for checks accepted by one bank which had been drawn on another. The Reserve Bank held the checks until the funds had cleared the home bank.

The reserve rules of the time allowed both banks, the cashing bank and home bank, to count the funds as part of their reserve. As a result, some fairly substantial amount of money, which should have been in limbo, was counted by both banks as part of its reserve, effectively reducing the amount of reserve available to cover shortfalls.

2.3 Lack of stock market regulation

There were no regulations on the stock market in 1929, and there were many practices that led to risky behavior. Here are two.

2.3.1 Insider Trading

Insider trading occurs when a person that is connected to a company has information that is not publicly known and uses that information to gain a financial advantage. Most of the focus has been on those who use inside information to buy stock based on good news. When the information becomes public, the stock price goes up and the insider makes an unfair profit.

But there are other scams that are more insidious. For example, an insider who is holding stock can create a false rumor of good news. Based on that rumor other investors buy the stock and run up the price. The insider then sells his stock and the buyers’ money winds up in the insider’s pocket.

There are many other permutations, one of which involves creating a rumor of bad news and selling the stock short.

2.3.2 Margin Requirements

In the ‘20s stockbrokers competed for clients, and lowering the margin requirement was one way to attract investors. By the late twenties it was common for the margin requirement to be no more than 50% of the purchase price. Generally, there were no requirements for margin maintenance, that is, paying down the principal or interest on the margin loan.

In a falling market, investors who have bought on margin begin to panic and sell their positions; to cover the margin losses an investor might sell other securities or bonds or withdraw funds from their bank accounts. This creates more downward pressure and instability in the market.

3.0 Events that triggered economic disaster

3.1 Economic downturn

After twenty-four consecutive quarters of growth, the US economy contracted for the first time in August of 1929. People had stopped buying houses and cars and washing machines.

Had they taken on all the debt they could afford? Were they exhausted by the unremitting pace of growth? Wary of the social changes and bemused by the scientific and technical advances? Were they just tired of roaring, and wanted to step back and take a breath?

Whatever the reason, companies did what they always do when faced with excess manufacturing capacity: they laid off workers. This creates a downward spiral. Fewer workers with money leads to less money for manufactured goods and more layoffs; the last round of layoffs leads to the next.

3.2 The early selloff

The Dow Jones Industrial Average (DJI) reached its pre-depression high water mark on September 3, 1929 at 381.2 points. In the following weeks, reports of thousands of unsold cars and weak retail sales began to surface. The smart money began to take profits on securities. As the market started to fall, stock brokers started to make margin calls, that is, they required additional funds to support the loan used to buy stocks. By late October the DJI had dropped by 20%.

3.3 Black Thursday, October 24, 1929

On Thursday, the panic was on. The DJI had fallen 4.6% the previous day, and by mid-morning the DJI was down 11%. Morgan Bank, Chase National Bank, and National City Bank of New York stepped in and bought stocks to stabilize the market, and by the end of the day the DJI was only down by 2% on a record volume of 12.5 million shares.

3.3 The Crash: Black Monday, October 28, 1929

Trading was light on Friday and Saturday, but on Monday the bottom dropped out. The DJI dropped 13% on trading of 9.3 million shares; the next day the DJI dropped another 12% on trading of 16.4 million shares.

In just two months the DJI had lost 40% of its value. One must keep in mind that the DJI is not a measure of the entire stock market. It is a measure of the bluest of blue-chip stocks; it is a measure of the health of the bedrock of American companies.

One can only imagine how the rest of the market had fared. At that time there were no indexes that measured the performance of the market as a whole.

The next three days were very quiet; the feeling was the worst had passed. On Friday, newspapers such as the Akron Beacon Journal and the New York Times featured a lot of happy talk about how the market was sure to bounce back. But it had not bottomed out. The market continued to fall, and, in July 1932, the DJI reached an all-time low of 41.22; it took another twenty-two years to top the pre-depression high.

3.4 The first wave of bank failures

In December 1929 there were 650 bank failures. This was just a hint of the world to come. Even so, the failures led to many thousands more personal and business bankruptcies.

3.5 Federal government action and inaction

 In 1921 Calvin Coolidge said, “The business of America is business”, and that has been the attitude of the Republican Party ever since. Their aim has been to encourage business and let the businesses take care of the people.

While it’s true that the new Republican president, Herbert Hoover, did not cause the Depression, he and the Republican Congress did little to help the common people. They were proponents of the laissez-faire view of government’s role in the economy. Laissez-faire is French for “Leave them alone and they’ll come home wagging their tails behind them… or not”.

They fully expected that the strongest companies would emerge from the downturn stronger, the weak companies would be eliminated, and they believed that was a good thing. Meanwhile poor, working-class and middle-class people suffered while their government did nothing. In Hoover’s view, that was unfortunate but necessary.

The one thing that the Republicans did in response to the Depression was to pass the Smoot-Hawley Tariff Act in June 1930. It raised the already high tax on imported goods by 20%. Economists have demonstrated over and over that tariffs only irritate your trading partners into raising their own tariffs. This raises prices in both countries and creates a barrier to mutually beneficial trade.

3.5 The second and third waves of bank failures

In 1930 another 1,300 banks failed, including the Bank of Tennessee and The Bank of the United States, the fourth largest bank in the country. In fact, bank runs had become commonplace, causing banks to fail at such an alarming rate that people were hoarding gold and cash at home. By 1933, the year Hoover left office, 6,000 banks, a quarter of the banks in the US, had closed their doors.

3.6 The drought

Starting in 1930 a drought struck the southeastern United States. Over the next four years it spread west to the Texas and Oklahoma panhandles, the area which was the epicenter of the Dust Bowl. This was not just a natural disaster; it was also manmade. Farmers deep plowed land that received only 10 inches of rain per year. When the rain failed to arrive, the topsoil dried up and blew away. Massive dust storms reached all parts of the Midwest and Eastern US, including New York City and Washington D.C. The drought did not end until 1939.

Of course, this reduced the food supply and put upward pressure on food prices. Another aggravating factor is that a much larger percentage of food was locally sourced in the 1930s.

4.0 The bottom line

The following table shows the decline of the Gross Domestic Product (GDP) and the rise of the unemployment rate during the early years of the Great Depression.

—————————————————————————————————————

|   Year     | Unemployment | GDP Growth |      Events           |

—————————————————————————————————————

 |   1929    |       3.2%     |   Not Available | Economic contraction, market crash,   |

 |                 |                 |         | first round of bank failures |

—————————————————————————————————————

 |   1930    |          8.7%      |      -8.5%    | Second round of bank failures, the    |       

 |                 |                           |                          | Federal Government enacts  the   |

 |                 |                          |                         | Smoot-Hawley Tariff Act      |

—————————————————————————————————————

 |   1931    |          15.9%     |       -6.4%         | Beginning of the Dust Bowl         |

—————————————————————————————————————

 |   1932    |          23.6%     |     -12.9%        | Third round of bank failures, FDR      |

 |                 |                          |                         | elected                                 |

—————————————————————————————————————

 |   1933    |          24.9%    |       -1.2%        | New Deal legislation restores confidence   |

 |                 |                          |                         | in the banks, promises relief for poor      |

 |                 |                          |                          | and working class unemployed        |

—————————————————————————————————————

Here are a few more mind-boggling numbers:

• By 1932, over 13 million Americans had lost their jobs.

• Between 1929 and 1932, incomes, on average, were reduced by 40%.

• In 1932 alone, 273,000 families were evicted from their homes.

• By 1934, nearly one-half of all residential loans were delinquent and over one million families had lost their farms.

• Between 1929 and 1932, construction of homes dropped by 80%.

• In the first 40 years the unemployment rate was calculated (1929 to 1969) there were 10 years in which the rate was in double digits; all 10 were the Depression years of 1931 to 1940.

Chapter 31

Sunday May 10, 1930

Wearing their Sunday best Pierre, Sarah, Antoine, and Marie got off the streetcar at Arlington and Ashwood. Jimmy had stayed behind at church for a youth group social.

“Sarah,” said Pierre, “I want to have a word with Antoine. Would you mind if we walked ahead?”

“Not at all, dear.”

Pierre took Antoine by the elbow and crossed Ashwood heading south. Antoine heard Marie protest, “Why can’t we walk with them, Maman?”

“Oh, it’s just some boring man talk. Oh, look there’s a robin! Must be the first of the Spring.”

Pierre was quiet for the first twenty paces; Antoine, getting uncomfortable, asked, “Was there something you wanted, Papa?”

“Yes, of course. I, uh,” he cleared his throat. “What did you think of the sermon?”

“The new assistant minister is a little too, a little too…”

“Fire and brimstone?”

Antoine nodded. “A little too enthusiastic in that direction for me.”

“Oh, he takes me back to my youth. Reminds me of Pastor Hubbard. Now, there was a man who put the fear of God into you. I suppose you prefer Dr. Roberts.”

Antoine nodded, “Yes.”

“He’s good man, but he’s too…”

“Gentle.”

“Gentle! That’s a good word. Our churchmen need to be made of sterner stuff. Mark my words, Antoine, there are hard days ahead.”

Antoine nodded.

Pierre cleared his throat again. “Ahem, speaking of hard times. You’re aware that the last day I worked was almost a month ago.”

“Yes. I’ve been wanting to ask you about it, but…” Antoine stopped.

Pierre wasn’t listening; the next words were hard for him. “There isn’t any work. There’s no new construction. Even jobs that were well along have shut down.”

They walked quietly for a dozen paces.

“How long do you think it will last?” asked Antoine.

“I don’t know. Maybe something will break in the summer or the early fall. I don’t know. Nobody knows. After twenty-five years of steady work, construction has just stopped dead. It’s hard to believe.”

Antoine read the newspaper so he knew things were bad, but even with his father not working, he’d had trouble conceiving that his father’s work was threatened.

“Papa, what will we do?”

“It’s not that bad. As you know I have been putting away thirty dollars a month for ten years and your room and board money for the last six. You can do the math later if you like, but it’s a tidy sum. If we’re extremely careful, the five of us could live on that money for at least two years.”

“But that’s Jimmy’s college money.”

“Yes, but it won’t do him any good if there’s no roof over his head or food on his plate.”

Antoine grunted in agreement.

“I have thought of that money as Jimmy’s, but it has also been a comfort when I woke up at night and couldn’t get back to sleep. What if I get hurt on the job and can’t work? What if Sarah or Marie get sick and need to go into the hospital? What if… well, many other worries.”

“I see.”

“I am still determined to see Jimmy go to college. That’s a part of what I want to talk to you about. You do feel we’re in this together, don’t you? The family, I mean. That we are all going to have make sacrifices to get through it?”

“Of course.”

They walked a little further.

“How secure is your job?” asked Pierre. “With you being in the Assembly and all.”

“I don’t know. There was no official guarantee. Just an understanding.” Antoine looked up at his father. “There’s something else I should tell you.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ve been told in confidence that management is getting ready to make serious cuts to third shift. In a month or so there will be just a skeleton crew to keep the machinery hot so first shift won’t have to get everything up and running when they come in.”

“What does that mean for you?”

“The big cuts will start to come from the second shift. I’ve also been told that I will probably be one of the last to go. But I don’t know, it just seems like a matter of time. I was told not to tell anybody, but, even so, I didn’t know how to break more bad news.”

“That is bad news.” Pierre chewed on that for a minute. “Still, you’re the only wage earner in the family now. Are you ready for that responsibility?”

“Yes,” Antoine said firmly.

“Good! For now, you earn the money and I’ll manage it. Set the budget and pay the bills and so forth. I would also like you to close your bank account and move that money into the family account.”

“Okay,” said Antoine a little less firmly.

“There’s a problem?”

“No.” Antoine looked at his father. “That makes sense. I just hadn’t thought it through.”

“Fine.” They walked three more paces. “How much is in your account?”

Antoine got shy look on his face. “I’m not sure. Three hundred dollars maybe.”

Pierre looked surprised. “That much?”

“I used to spend most of my spare money on the car. But you know how things are. We just haven’t the time for it, and the money’s just been piling up.”

“I’m sorry about the racing, Antoine. I know it means a lot to you.”

“I’ve been missing it, for sure. I’m trying figure out how to get back to it. I guess that’s one of the sacrifices I need to make.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

Antoine sighed.

“I have some bills to pay, Antoine. Can we go to the bank tomorrow to close your account?”

Antoine nodded. “Yes, let’s do that.” They turned the corner onto Reed Avenue and were within sight of their house. “There’s just one thing, Papa.”

“What’s that, son?”

“I think, that is, I think…”

“You think what?” said Pierre kindly.

“I think we should consider taking some of our money out of Akron Commercial.”

“For goodness sake, why?”

“It not in the Federal Reserve System.”

“The what?”

“The Federal Reserve System. It’s run by the government. I’ve been reading about it, but to be honest I don’t really understand it. It’s supposed to make banks more stable.”

“I’ve banked at Akron Commercial for over twenty-five years. They’ve made it through lots of panics. They’ll make it through this one.

“But don’t you think it would smart to put our eggs in more than one basket? Maybe we should move some of our savings to Ohio National.”

“They’re in this Federal doohickey?”

Antoine nodded.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ll talk to Mr. Perkins about it.”

“Who?”

“He’s the bank manager at Akron Commercial.”

“But…”

“But what?”

Antoine shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.” Antoine patted his father on the back. “We’re going to fine.”

Chapter 32

Wednesday May 28, 1930

Earl McLaughlin sat at the head the dining room table with his wife Laura to his right and the housekeeper Agnes Dunne to his left. The hour was late, after ten-thirty. He’d made a round of children’s rooms to ensure they would not be disturbed.

“So,” he said, “This shouldn’t take long. I just want to let you know where we stand. Not a lot of details, you understand, just a sense of the situation so that you will be able to go about your day without a lot of worry.

“First of all, I want to assure you that our banking situation is sound. I have that on good authority from sources inside and outside the bank.” He felt fortunate that Laura’s Uncle Laughton Murphy had warned him about the trouble brewing at his bank and that he had moved his money to Ohio National. “My business and our household accounts are sound.”

He didn’t say anything about the money he’d lost in the stock market. Truthfully, they were mostly paper losses. He had been investing in the stock market for almost ten years and by the time he sold off all his securities in late November he had gotten out almost $6,000. Over the years he had invested about $8,000, so a $2,000 loss wasn’t that bad. Still, the $9,000 he’d lost in crash was painful to contemplate, and he wasn’t all that comfortable with the $6,000 he’d salvaged sitting in his savings account, either. In spite of what he’d said to his wife and housekeeper, there was no completely safe place keep his money.

He cleared his throat and continued. “Now, as to the practice, receipts are down twenty percent compared to last year, and accounts overdue are rising at an alarming rate. Still, people get sick whether they have jobs or not, and I will not turn them away.

“Most people put something down on account even when they can’t pay in full, so I expect we’ll be fine with some belt tightening. Which brings us to the main reason you’re here, Agnes.”

“Yes, Doctor?”

“I think we’re going to have to cut your wage in half.”

“Don’t you worry about me. I know times is hard. I’m fortunate to have a roof over me head and three-square meals a day, sir.”

“I appreciate that, Agnes. I’ll keep that in mind.”

She nodded, wondering if she had carried her expression of gratitude a little too far.

“Also, a number of my patients have mentioned wanting to make payments in kind.”

“What does that mean, dear?” asked Laura.

“It’s quite a common practice in farming communities. Families pay their bills in produce or meat or labor. I understand that quite a few families in the area are starting kitchen gardens. Some even have apple or peach trees in their yards.”

“We could find ourselves hip deep in peaches and potatoes.”

“Yes, well, potatoes will keep, but peaches will not. I think we should prepare to mount a major canning operation starting in the summer and running through the autumn. I’m afraid this will fall primarily on you two with help from Genie.”

“Where will we put all these canned goods?” asked Laura.

“Well, there’s a carpenter that’s behind on his bill. I treated his daughter for the croup in February. I was thinking of getting him in here to build some more shelves and bins and so forth in the basement.”

“Mmmm…” mused Laura, drumming her fingers on the table. “Do you suppose there are other professionals, doctors, lawyers, dentists and the like who will also get, what did you call it? Payment in kind?”

He nodded. “Payment in kind. I should imagine so”

“I think there may be a role for the Presbyterian Ladies Auxiliary in this. Supporting the canning effort in the community at large even. I think I’ll call Audrey in the morning, see what she thinks.”

“Bully idea, Laura! I knew I could count on you!”

“You get in touch with a carpenter, and we’ll take it from there, won’t we, Agnes?”

“Yes, mum.”

Chapter 33

Sunday May 3, 1970

Denny arrived at the meeting place at nine-forty-five and waited for Alison with the sun on his face and a book in his lap. A half an hour later he got out of the car, impatient for her arrival. At ten-thirty he walked into the gas station, got change for a dollar, and went to the pay phone at the side of the building. He took a slip of paper out of his wallet and dialed the number. The operator asked him to deposit thirty-five cents for the first three minutes.

The phone rang and a male voice answered. “Delta Sig house.”

“Yeah, I’m looking for Alison Kernan. She’s visiting Pete, ah,” he looked at the paper, “Pete Landon.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s right here. Hey, Allie, there’s a call for you.”

A moment later Alison said, “Denny, Denny, is that you?”

“Hey, yeah. What’s going on?”

“Oh, everything is such a mess, and nobody could find the message with your phone number, so I couldn’t call you, and I thought I was going to have to take the bus back to school, and…”

“Whoa, slow down. Where’s Pete?”

“Pete is… Pete is… not available, and I tried to find somebody to take me to meet you, but people didn’t have a car or had plans, or…”

“It’s okay. I’ll come and get you. Just put that guy back on the phone.”

“Oh, thanks, Denny.”

He heard the phone change hands. “Hi, again.”

“Yeah, hi. Can you give me directions to your house? I’ll be coming from Brighton.”

“Do you have something to write with?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Well, the simplest way is to take I-96 west and get off at the route 43 exit. Take a right onto 43 toward East Lansing. Once you’re in town, the first major intersection is at Hagadorn Road. Go four more blocks to Spartan Avenue and the house is on the left right after that. If you get to Stoddard Avenue you’ve gone too far.”

“Okay, I-96 to 43. Take 43 into town. Look for a major intersection at… What’s that street again?”

“Hagadorn.”

“Ah, Hagadorn. The house is on the left just after Spartan.”

“That’s it.”

“Simple enough. How long will it take?

“Oh, forty minutes maybe.”

“Okay. Tell Alison I’m on the way.”

Alison was crying.

Denny didn’t know what to say, so he let her cry. She had started crying the moment he had turned out of the Delta Sigma driveway onto Grand River Avenue. She took a small box of tissues out of her shopping bag and cried her way halfway through it, leaving the pile on the seat between them. She took the pillow out of the shopping bag and buried her face in it. When it was too wet, she turned it over and cried some more. She seemed to be settling down, almost stopping and then started to cry again, as hard as ever.

Eventually, she did stop and sat back against the seat. Ten minutes later they came to the junction of 43 of I-96. Denny spotted a wide graveled shoulder just before the interstate; he parked the car and turned off the engine.

“What are you doing?” Her eyes were bloodshot, her nose stopped up.

“I thought maybe you’d like to tell me what happened.”

“Oh, no, it’s just so embarrassing.”

“Are you sure?”

She slid across the seat, and planted her face in his shoulder.

“It started out so nice; during the ride to East Lansing we talked about the weekend. It’s the big Greek spring event, there was a dinner Friday night, which I’d missed. There was a big party Saturday afternoon out at this farm, and a formal Saturday night. It ended with a champagne breakfast on Sunday.

“He took me to their sister sorority, where I was staying. It was kind of unlike him; ordinarily he would pressure me to stay with him. But he said it was a tradition for visiting girlfriends to stay at the sorority.

“After we dropped off my stuff, we went to his house. There was a keg, music playing. I could smell pot. I’m not into any of that, really. Alcohol makes me sick, like for days. It’s just not worth it. But Pete started drinking beer, and pretty soon he was a little drunk. He started trying to make out with me and touch me. I wasn’t ready for that yet. I hadn’t seen him in months; I needed some time to warm up, to feel connected to him again. Do you know what I mean?”

“Sure.”

“Do you really?”

“Sort of.”

She nodded. “I told him I was tired and wanted to go back to the sorority and go to bed. He went off in a huff and drank some more beer. Eventually, he took me back.

“The next day started out really nice. We had breakfast at a cute little diner. He was smiling and attentive, we walked around campus and talked and after a while we held hands. And there we were, kind of back in sync again, like in high school and my freshman year at Wesleyan.

“After lunch we drove out to the farm where the party was; he was helping to get things set up in the barn. When he was done, we took a walk in the woods, and it was beautiful. Trees and wildflowers and birds.”

“And bees,” he suggested.

“Well, yes. He kissed me, and it was exciting and sexy. I’m sure he would have done it right there, but I wasn’t comfortable with that. I told him ‘later’, and he said ‘okay’.”

“We went back to the barn and a bunch of his fraternity brothers were there with their dates. And, of course, everybody was drinking except me. At some point I realized that Pete was drunk, and I was really disappointed. I was so looking forward to the dance, but not if Pete was drunk. And he kept drinking, and when it came time to leave, he was really drunk. I tried to get the keys away from him, but he kept saying I couldn’t drive a stick shift, when he knew I learned to drive on VW Bug.

“So now we’re both mad and he’s driving way too fast. The next thing I know we’re off the road going through tall weeds and heading toward a big tree. I was sure I was going to die.” Two big tears leaked out of her shuttered eyes. She blew her nose.

“Was Pete hurt?”

“No. We were really lucky. Something spun the car around, and the rear of the car slammed into a sand bank. The engine had shut off and we sat there in complete silence.

“He tried the ignition, and the car started, but it wouldn’t move. Some of his brothers stopped, and they tried to push him out of the ditch, but the car wouldn’t budge. And then a police car happened by and stopped. The cop took one look at the car and the crowd of drunk frat boys and asked who was driving the car. They all looked at Pete, and he admitted it was him. Then the cop put cuffs on him and put him in the back of his car.

“The cop asked me a bunch questions, like how many drinks did Pete have and did I think he was drunk. I said I didn’t know. He told me Pete would be in jail until Monday and suggested I go back to town with one his friends. I talked to Pete and he said I should go, that there was nothing I could do for him in jail anyway. He said he was sorry.

“I rode back to the sorority house with this guy Rob Mueller and his date. He told me he would take me to meet you this morning. But today he wasn’t around, and there was no one else who could take me and we couldn’t find your message.”

“I see.”

“You did leave your phone number, didn’t you?”

“Um, no.”

“Why not? Did you forget?”

“No.”

“Well, what then?”

“Perhaps I should tell you about my weekend.”

“Alright.” She looked confused.

“Friday night I drove to a truck stop and slept in my car. In the morning I got up and had breakfast in the restaurant and spent the rest of the morning working on my Econ paper. In the afternoon I drove to Ann Arbor…”

“Wait a minute are you saying there was no family reunion?”

“Not this weekend. There will be one of sorts at my aunt and uncle’s house the week of Thanksgiving.”

“You lied to me!”

“No. At the most I misled you. I take that back. I did lie to you about calling you with the telephone number. There was no number to give you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I just wanted to spend the time with you in the car. I wanted to get to know you; I wanted you to get to know me.”

“But I told you I had a boyfriend.”

“Yes, but by then it was too late; I was committed. Besides it didn’t matter. Don’t get me wrong, it was disappointing, but my goal for the weekend was to make friends with you. Something more later, maybe. After all, we’re in Athens and he’s hours away in East Lansing. But, if a friendship is all I ever get out this, I’m good with that.”

“Why not just offer to drive me?”

“Oh, sure, that’s exactly what I wanted. I wanted you to think I was some creep trying to get you alone in a car.” He shook his head. “No. I wanted it to be natural, just two people passing time in a car.” He leaned over and put his head on the steering wheel. “I suppose it’s all ruined now, but Friday was great. Like you said, it was fun. Really the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

She sat back, a puzzled look on her face. “Yeah,” she said, “Yeah, me too.” She blew her nose. “You know, ever since yesterday afternoon, since the accident, I’ve been on the verge of tears. But I didn’t cry until I was in the car with you.”

“Why is that?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. It was first time I felt safe, I guess.” They sat quietly, just breathing.

“So, will you forgive me? For misleading you.”

“Yes, but just this once. And only because it’s just about the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

Chapter 34

Wednesday August 6, 1930

Antoine sat in their usual booth staring at the empty coffee cup across from him. Neither of them could afford more than that, but they’d kept meeting at their regular day and time. It was one of the few things he had to look forward to. Due to streetcar schedules, she always arrived at the luncheonette first, and for the first time in two years she was late.

Antoine had never paid much attention to the activity in the restaurant; he had always sat with his back to the action. But he was aware of the change in the noise. Even five months ago there had been a cacophony of clattering dishes, shouts from the waitresses and cook, the mummer of customers, the constant traffic in and out the door for pickup orders, and, most importantly, the ring of the cashdrawer and crash of it closing.

Today the luncheonette was half full and was that busy only because two nearby restaurants had closed. The customers were closemouthed and solemn. The waitress, down from three to one, was listless and uncharacteristically quiet. The kitchen was a tomb.

At quarter after twelve Antoine began to wonder how long he should wait. At twenty-five after Lada burst into the luncheonette. There was a thunderstorm in her face and bags under her eyes; she was sweaty and disheveled. He realized that she had not had a hair cut in weeks, that her simple cotton dress was slightly wrinkled and that she clutched her purse to her bosom rather letting swing freely from the handle.

She stomped up to him and said, “Move over.” He obliged and she slid in next him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s hunky-dory.” She looked around. “You know, I just realized. I hate this dump.”

“Would you like to go someplace else?”

“Like where?”

“I don’t know.”

“There is no place else.”

“You’re sure everything’s okay?

“Sure, I’m sure.”

“Your mama’s okay?”

“Yes.”

“Uncles?”

“Fine.”

“Pavle? Thomas? Oh, my Lord! Are Thomas and Mary Alice okay?”

She looked at him. “Tommy and Mary Alice are more than fine.”

“Thank God for that.”

She looked down at her lap and said, “Yes.”

The waitress schlepped up to the table, poured coffee into their cups and schlepped wordlessly away. Lada added cream and sugar to her cup.

“There must be something wrong.”

“Of course, there’s something wrong!” She pounded the table with a closed hand making the silverware jump and coffee slop into their saucers. “There’s always something wrong.”

“Won’t you please tell me, Lada?”

“It’s supposed to be this deep, dark secret, but it can’t be a secret very much longer.”

“Then tell me.”

“We’re losing the houses. And the shop.”

“Oh, no.”

“Half the men have lost their jobs. Mama refuses to kick them out, but to be fair there’s nobody to replace them if she did. And I don’t think we’ve had a customer in the shop this week.”

“What’re you going to do? Sell the houses?”

“Mama tried. We can’t get enough to pay off the mortgages. We’ve sold everything of value. Car, furniture, jewelry. You should see the houses; they look pretty empty.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “Yes, we’ve sold all the valuables. All except one; the most valuable of all.”

“What’s that?”

“Me.”

“You?”

She nodded. “Me.”

“But that’s against the law.”

“Oh, Antoine, you’re so naïve. People are bought and sold every day.”

Antoine looked away from Lada, not wanting to ask the question, already knowing the answer. But he couldn’t stop himself. “Who’s buying?”

“Frankie Dragovic. Uncle Ilarion is negotiating the price. Quite flattering, actually. Frankie will hire my uncle, pay off the loans on all three houses and buy the building the shop is in. All in Mama’s name. He will use his influence to help the men find legitimate work. He and his gang will send their wives, girlfriends, daughters, and whores to our shop. And, of course, I’ll have access to a pile of dirty money.”

She lifted her head, a look of horror on her face. He looked back, speechless.

“Antoine, say something,” she pleaded.

“What does your mama say?”

“She’s opposed, but weakening day by day. As the deadlines get closer.”

“Surely there is some other Serb you could marry. Maybe not somebody with so much money, but somebody.”

“Why do you think I’m not married already, Antoine?”

“I don’t know.”

“Because Frankie warned off all the eligible Serbs. Turns out courting me is a good way to get dead.”

“What about Thomas? Maybe he can come up with the money.”

“Not likely. Besides, he’s the golden boy. He’s gotten out and Mama wants to keep it that way.”

“The Kendals then?”

“As Mama puts it, ‘Zey are not family.’ It would be too humiliating too ask. Besides they probably have money troubles of their own. Let’s face it, Antoine, the only people who have that kind of money are gangsters and multi-millionaires. Which amounts to the same thing, I guess.”

“So, you came to tell me that you’re going to marry Frankie?”

She shook her head. “No, I came to tell you that I only have one way out.”

“Which is?”

“To marry somebody else before my family sells me to Frankie.”

“I thought you said no Serb would marry you.”

“I’m not talking about a Serb.” Antoine looked baffled. “I’m talking about my dearest friend. I’m talking about the only person I can talk to without being judged. I’m talking about the only person I would leave my family for.” Antoine still looked confused. “I’m talking about the only non-Serbian man I know, stupid.” She didn’t say stupid, but it was there in her tone.

“Not me?”

“Yes, you.”

“Oh! Oh, no. No, no.”

“Why not? Don’t tell me you’re afraid of Frankie Dragovic.”

“I’m terrified of Frankie Dragovic. But if that were the only argument against it, I’d marry you in a minute.”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

“Let’s see, where do I start? I know; let’s start with your family. All you’re thinking about is your life with Frankie; you haven’t stopped to think about what your life with me would be like. You would be banished from your family. Expelled, exiled, ostracized.”

“That’s not true!”

“It is true! It would be true in the best of times, but, when your aunts and uncles and cousins see their children hungry and on the street, they will say you were selfish and ungrateful. And it won’t be just your family; it will be all the Serbs in Akron.

“You won’t be able to go back church. You will be excommunicated. No way your mama and your priest will back you up like they did Thomas.

“Not only that, but your family, whom I love, will revile me. They will withdraw support for me at the plant. They may even come gunning for me at work. It will make my job even less secure than it already is.”

“And that brings us to my family. I can’t afford to lose my job; I’m the only wage earner in my family at the moment, and I’m not going to let my family go hungry and homeless.

“And how do you think my family will feel when I come home and announce that I’m going marry a girl they’ve never met? A girl who grew up in the Orthodox Church? How do you think they’ll feel when I tell them that we have get married in a hurry so that you don’t have to marry a man that your family prefers?

“Now, let me ask you this, where will we live? In my parent’s house? I can’t afford a place of my own. Where will we sleep? In the room I share with my brother? That will make for a romantic honeymoon. Here’s another question for you: are you going to become a Presbyterian? Will you go to church with my family every Sunday?”

“No!”

“Of course not!” He paused to take a breath. “Then there’s us.”

“What about us?”

“We’ve never even been on a date, Lada.”

“What do you call this?” She gestured to herself and Antoine.

“I call it two good friends having coffee.” Antoine closed his eyes. “Lada, I’ve never paid for your meal. I’ve never taken you to the movies. I’ve never held your hand. I’ve never kissed you.”

“Don’t you want to?”

He sighed. “Suppose I did. Don’t you think I would have done it by now, if there was any chance of it working out?”

“Don’t you love me?”

“The only person I have loved more is my dead mother.” He rubbed his face with his hands. “I have given this a lot of thought, Lada, and here’s what I think. I’m not enough for you. In time you would come to resent and despise me for all you’ve lost. I believe you would be angry with me for taking advantage of you. I don’t think I could bear that. And I don’t believe in substituting one disastrous marriage for another.”

“But, I thought…”

“You thought what?”

“That, if you loved me enough, you could save me from Frankie Dragovic?”

“I can’t save you from who are, Lada. And I can’t save you from what I am.”

Her face turned red, and she stood to leave. Then she turned and leaned over the table. “Goodbye, Antoine Trombley. I hope you have a good life.” She straightened and started to leave again, but stopped and looked at him over her shoulder. “If my mother sends you an invitation to the wedding, please, don’t come.”

He watched her turn and walk gracefully down the aisle and out the door.

He had not cried since that night in the kitchen when Sarah had helped him begin to heal from his mother’s death. He didn’t cry sitting in that booth, either, but it was a struggle. After a few minutes he stood, put a dine and nickel on the table for the coffee than neither had tasted, and walked to door with far less grace. He turned, surveyed the room, nodded and walked out.

Chapter 35

Thursday August 14, 1930

“Come on, batter, batter, batter; come on, batter, batter, batter. Swing, batter, swing,” chirped Marie from the stands along with the players on the field.

“Strike!” called the umpire. Marie bounced and danced, as she had through the prior eight innings. The umpire held up two fingers in left his hand and one finger in his right to indicate the count was two balls and one strike.

“Come on, batter, batter, batter; come on, batter, batter, batter. Swing, batter, swing.”

“Ball,” growled the umpire.

“Booooo,” cried Marie, “Boooo.”

Antoine felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked at the spectator behind him. “Is she always like this?” he asked.

“Pretty much.”

“Must wear you out.”

“A little maybe.” He put his arm around his eight-year-old sister and she grinned up at him, the gap in her brand-new front teeth still a little shocking. She was tall for her age and gawky. She was wearing a light-blue cotton dress which was a little too short for her; perched on her head was a worn-out, adult-sized ballcap pinned at back to make it fit. It said GIANTS on the front which was name of Jimmy’s American Legion baseball team.

“You ready to go home yet, sis? The score’s 4 to 1. Pretty much over at this point.”

“Aw, do we have to? There’s a man on first and there aren’t even any outs yet,” she pouted. “Besides, I want to go home with Jimmy.”

“Okay,” Antoine shrugged, and turned back to the field to see Jimmy, a picture of concentration at shortstop, focusing on the batter.

“Come on, batter, batter, batter; come on, batter, batter, batter. Swing, batter, swing.”

The batter did swing and hit a hot grounder between Jimmy and the third baseman; the runner at first was off at the crack of the bat. Jimmy dived to his right, snagged the ball in web of his glove, and hopped to his feet. He tossed the ball to the second baseman, Henry Weir, just as he reached the bag. Henry turned to first, but held up the throw when he saw the batter about to cross the base.

“Out at second!” roared the umpire.

The Giant’s fans in the crowd cheered and clapped. As the crowd quieted Marie piped, “Great play, Jimmy!” Jimmy looked into the stand at his sister and smiled.

Marie turned and put her arms around Antoine’s neck. “That was a great play wasn’t it, Antoine?”

“It was,” he replied.

However, the pitcher, Carl Wilson, walked the next two batters on eight pitches. The bases were loaded with one out; the opposing team, the Reds, was threating to tie the game.

“This is getting serious,” Marie said nervously.

“Time,” called the Giant’s coach. He motioned the infielders to join him as he walked out to the mound. They talked together for a few seconds; then the coach took the ball from Carl’s glove and handed to Jimmy.

“What’s going on?” Marie asked Antoine.

“Looks like Jimmy’s going to pitch.” 

“But he just pitched on Thursday.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Carl went to third, and the third baseman, Ray Clark, went to short. Jimmy toed the rubber and looked in at home plate. The batter was a big, red-headed goon named McLaurin; he’d driven in the Reds run with a double in the fourth inning. He stepped into the batter’s box and took a couple of practice swings.

The catcher gave Jimmy a sign. Jimmy nodded, went into his windup and threw a drop ball that entered the strike zone at the letters and exited at the knees. McLaurin watched it float by.

“Strike one!” called the umpire.

McLaurin glared at Jimmy. “I dare you to throw that pitch again!”

“What do you think, he’s stupid?” said the catcher to McLaurin as he threw the ball back to Jimmy.

McLaurin addressed the plate, Jimmy shook off two signs, went into his windup and threw the drop ball again, but this time just a little wide of the strike zone. McLaurin lunged at the pitch, swung early and missed the ball by a foot.

“Strike two!”

McLaurin stared flames at Jimmy, who just smiled.

The catcher gave Jimmy the sign for a fastball and he nodded. Knowing he wasn’t going to have much velocity on the pitch, Jimmy put a little extra spin on the ball. He grimaced when he saw the ball was headed for belt high on the outside part of the plate. McLaurin started his swing, but the ball speed and extra spin took it down and away from the plate. McLaurin tried to adjust his swing and topped the ball weakly to the second baseman.

Henry snatched up the ball bare-handed and flipped it to Ray at second base. Ray stepped on the bag and fired the ball to the first baseman. The lumbering McLaurin was out by fifteen feet. And with that, the game was over.

The Giant’s crowd got to their feet, cheered and applauded. Marie, of course, bounced up and down. The team mobbed Jimmy and he just smiled and hugged his mates. When opposing teams lined up for the handshake McLaurin refused to take Jimmy’s hand and would have walked by him, but Jimmy stopped him with a hand on his arm. Jimmy spoke to him briefly and offered his hand again. McLaurin looked down nodded and took Jimmy’s hand. Jimmy pretended like McLaurin was breaking his hand, and they both laughed. Jimmy patted him on the shoulder and trotted to the dugout.

By the time Antoine and Marie had made their way to Jimmy, he had put on his street shoes and draped his spikes around his neck. He was lucky to have spikes at all. A player from last year’s team had given Jimmy his pair, and Jimmy had passed on the pair he’d outgrown.

Marie launched herself into Jimmy’s arms. “Ma chère soeur,” he said to her.

“Mon cher frère,” she replied. This was the extent of her French. She turned to Antoine. “Didn’t he play great?”

“Yes,” smiled Antoine, “the hero again.”

Jimmy looked down at Antoine, he was three inches taller than his older brother and twenty pounds heavier. “Hey, I didn’t even get a hit.”

“Can’t have you getting a big head. You still have to fit through the kitchen door.”

“But you got an RBI on a fly out,” said Marie. “That’s better than a kick in the a… I mean, the bottom with a frozen boot.”

“Tut, tut, young lady,” said Jimmy, “where did you ever hear such language?”

“From you,” she grinned. They laughed, and Jimmy put her down. She took a hand from each of her brothers and they walked to the streetcar stop.

Antoine looked up at the sky. It was mostly cloudy with little patches of blue. The sun was high in sky and the late morning air was heating up. There were four more American Legion games on the field that day. Antoine was happy the Giants had drawn the first slot in spite of having to get up early.

When they got to the streetcar stop, Antoine said to Jimmy, “So, what did you say to that guy?”

“Which guy?”

“That big guy. The one you got out.”

“Oh, him. I don’t know. Nothing much.”

“Come on, what’d you say?”

“Well, let’s see.” Jimmy thought for a moment. “I told him I thought he was a really good first baseman, which he is. And I thanked him for giving us a good game.”

“What was he mad about?”

“Well, losing, I guess.”

“Naw. He was mad before that.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Maybe he thought I tricked him. Which I did.”

“You tricked him?”

“Well, yeah. I have a reputation as a fast ball pitcher. But I knew from my throws to first today that I really didn’t have much left in my arm. So, I threw him that lollypop floater on the first pitch, knowing he’d be sitting on the fastball. Then I heard what he said and what my catcher said to him. So, I figured I’d throw him another one. And that last pitch, it was a feeble. I threw it right into his wheelhouse, and he should have smacked in to left field for two runs, easy. Lucky for me, it was so feeble it dipped outside.”

“Huh.”

“That’s what I love about sports. Figuring out how to win with whatcha got.”

The streetcar came and they climbed aboard. Antoine and Jimmy showed their passes to the conductor; Marie rode for free. They changed cars at Arlington and got off at Archwood. As they prepared to cross the street, they looked west down Archwood, and both brothers did a double take.

“What’s that?” said Jimmy.

“Looks like there’s a line at our bank.”

“Bank run?” mouthed Jimmy.

Antoine nodded. “You get Papa. I’ll take Marie and get in line.”

“Sure thing.”

They crossed Archwood and Jimmy took off for home at a dog trot. Antoine and Marie turned toward the bank.

“What’s going on, Antoine?” Marie asked nervously.

“I’m not sure, honey. We’re just going to take a look.”

When they got to the line, the people in front of them were silent and tense, often craning their necks to look at the front of the bank. Marie tugged on Antoine’s hand. He looked down and saw big tears about to spill onto her cheeks.

He knelt down on one knee to be at her eye level and she wrapped her arms around his neck. He could feel her silent sobs. “What’s wrong, sweetie pie?”

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t know!”

“Don’t be scared. Papa and I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She looked at him. “You promise?”

“Of course.” She nodded and stopped crying. He took out his handkerchief and mopped her face and let her blow her nose. “You haven’t told me anything about your trip to the library this week.”

“Well,” she said, shaking a little, “there was this really nice lady, Miss Hendrick, who read us a story.”

“Which story was that?”

“This really funny book called Just William. It’s about this very naughty English boy. Miss Hendrick did all these very funny accents, and we all laughed.”

“What does William do?”

“Well, for one thing he’s very dirty all the time. He hates taking baths. He does all these things to make the adults look so silly.”

“Like what?”

So, she told him. Mostly it was out of order and incoherent, but it entertained her. Just as she was winding down, there was hand on his shoulder.

“Papa!” said Marie and she put her arms around his waist. He gave her comforting pat on the back.

“Have you been crying?” he asked her.

“Just a little,” she said.

He picked her up and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Well, then, Antoine, will you please take Marie home?”

“But, I…” Pierre imperceptibly shook his head, looked at Marie and inclined his head in the direction of their house.

Antoine nodded. “Come along, ma chère soeur. We’re going home.” He took her hand and looked up at his father. “I’ll see you at home before I go to work?”

Pierre nodded, and Antoine and Marie turned toward home.

But Antoine did not see his father before he went to work, which was odd. The bank closed at 2:00 pm on Saturdays, and Antoine did not leave for work util a 3:15.

He returned to the house at 12:40 am; the house was dark as usual. He let himself in through the kitchen door. As always, the light was on over the sink, but he was surprised to see his father sitting over a cup of coffee in the semi darkness.

They regarded each other quietly for a moment. Then Pierre said, “Do you want a cup of coffee?”

Antoine shook his head and sat down at the table. “What happened at the bank?”

Jimmy walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table with them.

“Go back to bed, Jimmy,” said Pierre.

“Not a chance in hell. I’m not a kid anymore. I want the straight poop.”

Pierre stood up, a vein throbbing in his forehead, the tendons standing out in his neck, but his voice sounded mild by comparison. “Such language!”

“What are you going to do? Put me in my room? I could whip both your asses with one arm tied behind my back.”

“Maybe not both of us,” Antoine said coolly.

“Yeah, but it would make a hell of a racket. Is that what you want? To wake up Ma and Marie?”

Pierre looked at Antoine. Antoine shrugged. Pierre sat down, his face in his hands, elbows on the table.

Jimmy put his arm around his father’s shoulders, “Come on, Pa. You and Antoine talk; just pretend I’m not here.”

Pierre sobbed, which shocked both his sons. After a moment, Pierre took out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes. Antoine suspected that, if the kitchen light were on, he would see that his father had been crying before he got home.

Antoine said, “That bad?”

“I only got fifty dollars out of the checking account.”

“But there had to be more than that.”

“There was over two hundred, but that’s all they would give me.”

“But why. It’s our money.”

“They said to cover outstanding liabilities.”

“What outstanding liabilities?”

“Checks. They were talking about checks.”

“What about the savings account?”

“Frozen for 90 days.”

“What?”

Pierre took out the savings book, turned to the back page, and showed him the paragraph that stated “Withdrawals may require up to 90 days’ notice.”

Antoine said, “Oh, my G…, I mean, I had no idea!”

“Me neither.”

“How much is in it?”

“Almost seven thousand five hundred dollars.”

Antoine looked at Jimmy. Then he asked, “And if the bank fails?”

Pierre shrugged, and put his face in his hands again, his shoulders shaking. He looked up with tears in his eyes. “That swindler Perkins looked me right in the eye and told me the bank was solid as a rock.”

Antoine pulled his chair around to his father’s end of the table and joined his brother in his embrace of their father. They held him while he cried.

Pierre sobbed and said, “I’m sorry, Antoine, I should have listened to you.”

“About what?”

“About moving our money.”

“Papa, there was a Federal Reserve bank that failed in Kentucky just last week. There’re no guarantees.”

“Did Ohio National fail?”

“Well, no.”

“You’re a good boy, Antoine. No, I take that back. You’re a good man. But we have to face the facts. I failed you; I failed all of you.”

“Don’t worry,” said Jimmy to his father. “I’ll just have to get a job, that’s all.”

Tears forgotten, Pierre stood up, leaned on the table, put his face six inches from Jimmy’s and said, “As long as we’re swearing tonight, THE HELL YOU WILL!” For the second time his sons were taken aback. “You are going to college! From now on the Trombleys will be educated people! Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” said Jimmy.

“‘Yes’ what?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“That’s better.”

“Sorry, Papa.”

Pierre turned to Antoine. “Do you agree?”

“I do.” He turned to Jimmy. “Is this basketball thing going to pan out?”

“You mean a scholarship?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know. Nothing’s for sure, but I got a letter from Coach Blair last week.”

“Which one is that?”

“Akron.”

“What did it say?”

“Nothing really. Just how much the university needs quality young men like me. Keep my grades up and keep working hard at basketball. You know, a lot of horse, ah, manure like that. It’ll be at least a year, more like eighteen months, before anybody’s even going to think about offering me a scholarship.”

Pierre asked, “What about an academic scholarship?”

“Well, I don’t know about that.”

Antoine chimed in, “You’re still at the top of your class, right?”

“It’s two years until I graduate. A lot can happen.”

“Still,” said Pierre, “who should I talk to about academic scholarships?”

“I don’t know. Mr. Peterson, the principal, maybe.”

Pierre nodded, and looked at Antoine. “What’s the status of your job?”

 “It’s just a matter of time before they shut down the second shift. The way things are going, I might not have a job by November.”

Pierre looked grim and nodded. “Any other prospects?”

“I’m going to see Mr. Bainey this week, and I’ll go to the A&P, too. But I’m not expecting much. I’ll contact everybody I know, then I’ll start knocking on doors. It’s looking pretty bleak, though. Do you have any other ideas?”

“There’s the house.”

Antoine was stunned. “You’re not going to sell the house!”

Pierre had built the house himself in 1910, borrowing $350 to pay for the lot and materials. With help of two friends, a plumber and an electrician, he’d kept the total cost below $500. It took him less than ten years to pay off the loan. His pride swelled in 1925 when similar houses, inferior in his mind, had sold for over $5,000.

“No. I can get a loan using the house as collateral.”

“But we could lose the house that way.”

“We could starve and lose the house if we don’t.”

Jimmy piped up, “How much do you think we’d get?”

Pierre glared at him and growled, “I won’t know until I try.” Jimmy slumped back in his chair.

“Surely, there are other options,” said Antoine.

“Such as?”

“Dick and I have been talking about selling the car. I’ll tell him it’s time.”

“How much will you get?”

“I don’t know. It’s a four-year-old car, but it’s souped up for the track. Maybe a hundred dollars, maybe a little more. Say fifty dollars each.”

Pierre went to cupboard next to the kitchen door and took out the cash jar; he flipped on the light switch next to the door and brought the jar back to the table. He dumped the contents of the jar onto the table and counted out twelve dollars and forty-two cents. He took out his wallet and counted out the fifty from the bank and another seven dollars. He had eighty cents in his pocket.

Pierre looked at Antoine. He took three dollars form his wallet and eighteen cents from his pocket.

Pierre said, “Let’s see, all together that’s…”

“73.40,” said Jimmy.

“I’ll take your word for it. If Antoine gets 50 for his car…”

“123.40.”

“If we can get by on $20 a week...”

“That’s about seven-and-a-half weeks.”

“Less than two months.” Pierre shook his head. “That’s not much.” Jimmy gave Antoine a queer look and Antoine squirmed. Pierre looked at them. “What?”

Jimmy said, “You tell him or I will.”

Pierre squinted at Antoine.

“I have… some other cash.”

“What other cash?”

“I’ll get it,” said Jimmy and dashed out of kitchen. Neither Pierre nor Antoine said a word. Jimmy came back with small metal box, 12x8x4 inches. It was locked.

“How did you know?” Antoine asked Jimmy.

“It’s been on the shelf on your side of the closet for months. Then I saw you stash some money in it over the Christmas holiday.”

“Open it,” said Pierre.

Antoine took out his keyring, selected a very small key and unlocked box. It was three quarters full of bills. The bills were all the newer, smaller size. Some $10 Silver Certificates. The rest were the newer $5 bills issued by the Bureau Printing and Engraving.

Both Pierre and Jimmy were bug-eyed with amazement. “How much is it?” asked Jimmy.

“I’m not sure; I haven’t counted it recently.”

“Where did it come from?” Asked Pierre.

“There’s a month’s wages from March; the rest comes from… my other job.”

“What other job?”

“I can’t tell you. I promised not to say.”

“Is it illegal?” asked Jimmy.

Pierre smirked. Antoine said, “Of course not. Just secret.”

“Let’s count it,” said Jimmy.

And so, they did. There were sixteen $10 Silver Certificates and forty-eight $5 bills: three hundred and ninety dollars.

Shaken, Pierre asked “Are you sure it’s not illegal?”

“Papa, you taught me to be a man of my word, so I am not going to tell you what it is. But I will tell you this: in a year I’ve made, what, two hundred and seventy dollars. If it was illegal, it sure would have been a lot more than that.”

“I guess.”

Jimmy looked at the piles of money. “If Antoine loses his job in November, we can probably make it to next May with what we’ve got.”

Antoine had stayed up after his brother and father had gone to bed. He had reluctantly given over the box, the key and the money to his father. He wasn’t sure that it was the best idea at the moment.

He turned off the kitchen light and sat, like his father had, in the dark. Every once in a while, he got up from his chair and looked out at the backyard.

About 3:30 he decided to go to bed even though he didn’t have much hope of getting to sleep. As he passed by Marie’s door, he thought he heard something in her room. Her door was open a crack and he peeked inside. The room was totally dark, but, for some reason, he was sure she was awake.

“Marie, are you awake?” he whispered.

“Yes,” She squeaked.

“Are you okay?”

“No.”

“Would you like me to sit with you for a minute?”

“Yes, please.”

He went to her little bed and sat down on the edge. She swarmed into his and lap cried very hard but very quietly. He held her small shaking body, patted her on the back and said “It’s alright,” over and over. Presently she stopped, and, for the second time in a little over twelve hours, he dried her eyes and helped her blow her nose.

“Did you have a bad dream, honey?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“I heard loud voices and bad words.”

“Oh, did we wake you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m sorry, it’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“Did you and Jimmy have a fight with Papa?”  

“No, sweetie, we weren’t angry at each other. We were upset about some things.”

“What things?”

He stood and put her back down on the bed.

“What things, Antione?”

He could just make her out, especially her moistly shining sclera. He turned on the lamp on her night stand and sat back down on the bed. They squinted and blinked adjusting to the light. She looked up at him and saw that his eyes, although not near to tears, were moist, too. He looked down her and thought, she’s so smart, she always knows when something is up.

He sat back down and said, “Okay, but this has to stay between just you and me.” She nodded. “Promise?”

She drew an X on her chest. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Okay, then.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “You know that Papa is out of work?”

“Yes, lots of my friends’ papas are out of work, too. We’re all scared.”

“It is scary. Papa’s always made the money.”

“But you’re still working.”

“Yes, but it’s only half time and it’s not much money. And men I work with get laid off every week, so even that little bit of money could stop coming in.”

“When will that happen?”

“I don’t know. Two weeks, a month. Maybe never.”

“How long have you known about this?”

“Months.”

“Then what were you arguing about tonight? Something changed?”

“Yes.”

“That thing at the bank?”

“Yes.”

“What was it?”

“A lot of people got scared and wanted to get their money out of the bank. The bank didn’t have enough for everybody, so, the bank’s in trouble.”

“Did Papa get our money?”

“A little bit.”

“Are you scared?”

“Yes, a little.”

“Is Papa?”

“Yes.”

“What’s going to happen to us?”

“We are a lot better off than a lot of people, sweetie. Papa owns the house, and we have kept a decent amount of money at home. We’ll just have to do our best to ride it out.”

“Do you think we’ll be okay?”

“I think we will. We have good neighbors; we have the church. We’ll just have to help each other get through it. But I won’t lie to you, sweetie, it’s going to be tough.” He pulled the covers up to her chin and tucked her in. “Do you think you will be able to get to sleep now?”

“Well, maybe if you lay down with me for a little bit.”

He nodded and bent over to unlace his shoes and laid down with his back to her, his stocking feet hanging over the end of the bed.

She put her boney arm over his shoulder and said, “You smell bad, Antoine.”

“Yeah, I missed my bath. Do you want me to go?”

“No, it’s familiar, you know.” He nodded. She started to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Do you mind this?”

“No.”

“Good.”

A minute later, he could tell by her breathing that she had dropped off to sleep. Then he awoke in her bed with sun in his face to sound of his father’s alarm clock in the next room.