Fever Season (18 page)

The owner-manager explained about David's uncle and how David hoped to find him in Seattle if the team could take him out there with them. “Now this isn't charity we're talking about. The kid's going to work for it. But it's not just my money that's going to be affected. It's yours, too. So we're all going to vote on it.”

Mr. Kennedy got up off his desk. He put a big arm around David's shoulders and gave him a slight shove toward the door. “And you're going to wait downstairs until we're done. So go grab a newspaper or something in the reading room. I'll be down to let you know when the boys have decided.”

As the captain, Newsy Lalonde spoke first. “The kid works hard as far as I can tell. It's fine by me if we bring him along.”

“That's easy for you to say,” Billy Couture grumbled. “You make more money than any two of us put together!”

“Yeah, but what's it gonna cost to bring him?” Odie Cleghorn asked. “Another hundred bucks maybe? Even if it's $200, that's still only $20 off each of our bonuses.”

“Says the guy whose father works in the oil business,” Couture countered. “Twenty bucks is a lot of money to some of us! Jobs in the summer will be harder to find now that the soldiers are back. And what if Vancouver beats them and we don't even go to Seattle? Then it's $20 off our bonuses for nothing! Al was handling our equipment fine all season without him.”

“Billy's right,” Louis Berlinquette said. “And my wife's expecting a baby in the spring. We sure could use that bonus money.”

Joe Hall shook his head with disgust. “I've got three kids of my own at home. My wife and I are both from big families, but if we weren't, I'd sure like to think there'd be someone who'd look out for them if something happened to us. This kid needs our help, and I think we should give it to him.”

The room fell silent for a moment.

Then another player spoke. It was Georges Vézina. “I sayz we bring da boy,” he told his teammates. “And dat we all help to pay. Even if we don't get to Seattle, it's da right t'ing to do.”

Everyone stared at the goalie for a moment. Then there were nods of agreement from around the room. Even Couture and Berlinquette weren't going to argue when the Silent Habitant spoke out in English.

“Okay then,” Newsy announced. “It's decided. The kid can come.”

C
HAPTER
17

David was so excited after Mr. Kennedy gave him the news that he couldn't see himself sitting on a streetcar. So he part ran, part walked the two miles or so from the Athletic Club back to the Home. It was a little after four o'clock when he got there. At that time of day J-P was in the kitchen helping to get things ready for dinner. It was so obvious from the expression on David's face that the boy didn't have to tell him anything.

“Dey're going to take you!” J-P said.

David nodded excitedly.

“That's great!”

David couldn't remember if he'd ever hugged his father. Probably, when he was really little. But even when his father had left for the army, all they'd done was shake hands. Now David threw his arms around his friend.

“Thanks, J-P. Thank you so much. For everything.”

“Ahh,” J-P said, mussing up David's hair the way hockey players did when someone scored a goal, “I didn't do so much. You did it yourself. Now get outta here so I can get my work done!”

The next day was Sunday. Sundays were always restless days around the Home. Most of the kids were usually there, but a lot of the staff wasn't. Sundays were J-P's only day off, and since David had never become close to any of the other boys, he didn't want to just hang around. So he went outside and started walking. He didn't really know the best way to go, but he knew once he got to Saint Joseph Boulevard that if he kept walking he'd eventually hit Papineau Avenue. After that it would be like his old walk through the neighbourhood coming home from school.

David passed the blacksmith shop and the fire station and all the stores where his mother used to shop. After about an hour of walking, he finally reached Chabot. He stopped in front of the family's old building and glanced up at the flat on the third floor. David couldn't see anyone there, but he spotted other people's things on the landing. Still, standing there on the street, it was hard to believe that if he climbed those winding stairs his mother wouldn't be there waiting for him. But, of course, she wouldn't be. And yet he had gone there to talk to her.

“I'm going to Seattle,” he said quietly. “I'm going to find Uncle Danny.”

On Monday morning David told Mrs. Freedman the news. She made quick arrangements for the people who donated clothes to the Home to provide him with a new pair of pants, a few new shirts, and a suitcase. Mrs. Wolfe altered a man's suit jacket to fit him so that he'd have something nice to wear, as well.

Mrs. Freedman stayed late at the Home that night, and when it was time for David to go to the station, she took him there in a taxi. Then she handed him an envelope with a sheet of paper inside that had all the addresses from Seattle typed on it.

“Good luck,” she said, and gave him a kiss on the cheek and a hug.

There was a tear in David's eye when he said, “Thank you.”

Windsor Station looked like a castle on the southeast corner of Dominion Square in downtown Montreal.
BETTER THAN ANYTHING EVER BUILT
, a sign had said when the Canadian Pacific Railway station first opened back in 1889. Since then it had been made even bigger and better. Its main office tower now soared fifteen storeys above the street.

The Canadiens left Windsor Station for Vancouver on Train No. 1 of the Canadian Pacific's Transcontinental Line at 10:15 on Monday night, March 10, 1919. David hadn't had much time to get ready. Then again, there wasn't too much he needed to do.

A big crowd was at the station to cheer the Canadiens as they left to go after the Stanley Cup. Including David, there were twelve people travelling west with the team. Mr. Kennedy was going, of course, and Al was, too, but only nine of the team's ten players were making the trip. Joe Malone had decided not to go. With hockey salaries so low, Malone had decided to put the new job he had in his hometown of Quebec City ahead of the game. Except for the playoff trips to Ottawa, Malone had already skipped most of the Canadiens' road trips during the season, and he wasn't about to take a whole month off for this western trip … even to play for the Stanley Cup.

Mr. Kennedy had arranged with the railway for the Canadiens to travel west in their own private sleeping car. It was first-class all the way and very snazzy! The twelve sets of double-sided bench seats were upholstered much more comfortably than in the regular sleeping cars. During the day, a table could be placed between the seats, and at night they pulled out into large beds with thick curtains for privacy. Above these lower berths were the upper berths. By day the upper berths were tucked closed and out of the way with metal bottoms so shiny they reflected the light coming through the windows as if they were mirrors. At night they folded down into smaller “top bunks” with a ladder for climbing up.

Veteran players always got the lower berths when teams travelled by train. Younger players slept up top. David got an upper berth near the back. That was the space closest to the washrooms, which was convenient in some ways, but also meant that people were always passing by when they had to go.

Since the train left Windsor Station at 10:15 at night, the private car was already set up for sleeping when the Canadiens got onboard. Most of the players dropped off their bags and headed for the parlour car where they could sit up and talk or play cards until later in the night. But David climbed up into his berth, got into his pajamas, and tried to sleep. It was hard to get comfortable at first, because the train made so many stops and starts along the way, but when the locomotive finally opened up for a long run after midnight, the gentle rocking helped put David to sleep.

A little after seven o'clock in the morning two porters came through the car and quietly announced it was time to get up. There was a parade of people back and forth to the washrooms for the next little while as the players cleaned up and shaved, then went back to their berths to get dressed. David waited until everyone else was done before he got cleaned up. Then he dressed and made his way to the dining car to get some breakfast. It was pretty crowded when David got there, but he heard someone calling him.

“Over here. I saved you a seat.”

It was Joe Hall. The defenceman nodded at one of the porters, who went to get David some breakfast. “Sit down,” Joe said, patting the seat beside him. “I ordered you some bacon and eggs. Hope you don't mind. My oldest boy — Joe Junior — is about your age and that's what he likes in the morning.”

David loved bacon, and he hadn't had any for a long time. There was only kosher food at the Home. “Thanks,” he mumbled as the porter brought him his plate of food.

Except for J-P, David had never been very good around new people, and he just couldn't get used to the idea of being so close to Bad Joe Hall — even if the man really didn't seem very bad at all. So while David was glad to have the tasty breakfast, he mostly just stared out the window as he ate. It was fascinating to watch the scenery flying by.

“Ever been on a train before?” Joe asked.

David shook his head. “Been on the streetcar a lot, but this is better!”

Joe smiled as David turned to gaze out the window again. “Do you know where we are?” David asked after a while.

Joe looked out the window, too. He'd been back and forth on the train between Brandon and Quebec so many times over the years that he knew the route well. “Can't say I really pay that much attention anymore, but it looks like we're still running alongside the Ottawa River, which means we haven't reached Mattawa yet.” He checked his wristwatch. It was a little after 8:30. “We'll get there about nine o'clock and hit North Bay an hour later. They'll hook us up to a new locomotive there.”

The big train engines had to be switched every 150 miles or so during the 2,886-mile trip from Montreal to Vancouver. Different locomotives were assigned to various sections along the route. The sturdiest ones were needed to pull the trains over the mountains. Railway workers also had to load on new coal and fresh water at many of the stops along the way to feed the fires that created the steam that powered the engines.