Sugar House (9780991192519) (11 page)

"Ah, yes. I thought I saw a small blur flying
out of the church, but I thought it was the Holy Spirit heading for
some fresh air," said Father Gatowski. However, Joe was too nervous
to notice the priest's gentle voice.

"No Father, I mean, maybe it was, Father, but
it was also me. I ran down the aisle after Mass."

"Why were you in such a hurry, Joe? Did you
have nothing to pray for? Perhaps the world is at peace and all
hunger has ended? Or perhaps you just did not feel like praying?"
The priest settled into his chair.

"No, Father. I mean, I prayed hard but I was
in a hurry to leave because my Ojciec and I were going to the
Tigers game after Mass."

"Well, baseball is not an excuse for
impudence, Joe, Eeven when the great Georgia Peach is playing. Do
you understand?"

Joe looked up from his feet for the first
time and his eyes met the priest's. He was so astonished to hear
Cobb's nickname being used by Father Gatowski, he didn't respond at
first.

"Joe, do you understand?" Father
repeated.

"Yes, Father," Joe responded quickly, stunned
to realize the priest was smiling.

"Wish I could have been at that game. Can't
let the parishioners see me out on a Sunday at a ballgame, though.
Sundays are God's day of rest. Stole his ninety-sixth base of the
season, huh? God bless our Tigers. Not the best reputation, Mr.
Cobb has. He likes people to think he is mean and ruthless, which
he is on the field, and sometimes off for sure. But most don't know
he can be a kind man also. He let one of our boys catch fungoes
during batting practice, and he gave another a job as a stile boy.
Tigers pay him twenty-five cents a game and he gets to watch for
free."

Father Gatowski rose from his chair and
walked to the front of the desk. He looked down at Joe.

"No man is without sin and no man without
good. And neither are small boys, I think." He laughed softly. "Say
four Hail Marys and ten Our Fathers, and your crime is forgiven,
son. Now return to your classroom and tell Sister Mary Monica you
have received your punishment. Don't let on what it is, now.
Wouldn't hurt my reputation if you look contrite when you go back,
either."

Joe thanked the priest and walked back into
the hallway.
Father Gatowski, a baseball fan! What luck!
He
had thought being sent down to the priest's office would be a far
worse punishment than a paddling before his classmates. That large
wooden paddle with holes that hung behind Sister's desk provided a
fierce wallop to many a little boy's behind.

Sister Mary Monica was at the front of the
classroom discussing the upcoming St. Josaphat's festivities when
Joe slipped quietly into his chair. She gave Joe a stern look but
continued on without further notice.

"As the class marches in procession we will
sing 'Boze, Cos Polske' (God Bless Poland) " she continued. "And
our class will learn 'Veni Creator Spiritus.' We will sing this for
the bishop before the dedication ceremony on the steps of the
church. I expect that every child will sing reverently and with his
best voice for his Holiness. We will practice these hymns every day
after Mass, allowing more than enough time for them to be learned.
Your class is the only one that has been chosen to sing for the
bishop, and it is quite an honor."

Halloween had not been celebrated much in the Upper
Peninsula, but Joe was catching on quickly. He and Matka went to
Kresge's and bought some witch and pumpkin postcards. They pasted
them on the front window of their house. Matka also purchased a
black and orange crepe apron decorated with black cats for herself
and a similar one with a flying witch for Aunt Hattie. On All
Hallow's Eve, Ojciec helped Joe carve a small pumpkin, and Joe
placed it on the steps of their porch. Matka gave Joe a candle for
it and placed several lit candles on the railing of the porch.

"Can we bob for apples now?" Pauline asked as
the two families gathered on the front porch. Beautiful red apples
floated in the wooden washtub on the corner of the porch, and the
children were impatient for their small party to begin.

"In a minute, Pauline," Aunt Hattie replied,
as she came out her front door with a plate of homemade doughnuts
in her hand. Uncle Alexy poured a cup of warm apple cider and
handed it to Joe. Joe took the warm doughnut, dipped it into his
glass, and shoved the entire thing into his mouth.

"Good doughnuts, Aunt Hattie," he mumbled,
mouth full.

"Manners, Joe! And thank you," she replied,
taking a cup of cider from her husband. "Why don't you light the
big winter turnips your father carved and put them in the windows?"
Joe grabbed some matches from the kitchen and lit a candle in a
large turnip his father had carved with a devilish face. Ojciec
said his family had always carved turnips in Poland on All Hallows'
Eve to ward off evil spirits.

Uncle Feliks made a rare appearance and
brought a roll of Life Savers, a Hershey Milk Chocolate Bar, and a
bottle of Faygo soda pop for each of his nieces and nephews. Aunt
Hattie grimaced at Matka when the bachelor brother sauntered up the
walkway. Matka whispered, "Być miły" (Be nice) and told Joe to get
Uncle Feliks a beer. Joe's uncle produced two pretty, silver
barrettes, one for each of his sisters-in-law, saying, "A small
blossom for the two prettiest flowers in the Jopolowski family
garden."

Looking at the flowered hair clip, Matka
said, "The flower engraved on this barrette reminds me of the red
poppies that grew in my village." She removed her babushka,
straightened her hair and slipped the clip into place above her
left ear. Aunt Hattie didn't don hers but smiled warmly and offered
Uncle Feliks a doughnut.

The men sat on Joe's porch and smoked cigars
that Uncle Feliks had brought and discussed work. Finally the
children were allowed to bob for apples. Pauline, the most
determined, soaked her whole head and was sent in the house to
towel off. The family laughed good-naturedly at her bravado. Marya
assisted Emilia and Frank with the apples, and Joe pretended to
help so he could listen to his mother and Aunt discuss his rogue
uncle.

Matka said, "It was so nice of Feliks to
bring treats for all of us. I wish he would come and live with us.
Mikołaj would be so happy, and we have the room."

"With the baby coming, Blanca? That would be
difficult. And besides, Feliks would have to give up drinking in
the taverns to dawn and cavorting with all his women."

"Oh, Hattie, Mikołaj says he doesn't drink
that much—he just likes to gamble. The bars now have a way to wire
in the scores of the games, and he just likes to put down a
friendly wager."

"You are completely naïve, Blanca. But let's
not ruin the evening by discussing it further. Joe? Isn't it your
turn to bob for an apple?"

Joe splashed water onto the porch as he
bobbed for his apple, and Marya glared at him.

"Joe! Please be careful!" she snapped.

Joe looked up at his blonde cousin and smiled
sweetly. "Sorry Marya. Why don't you take your turn now? I am sure
with that mouth of yours you will be able to grab an apple without
spilling a drop."

"Aunt Blanca! Did you hear what Joe said?"
Marya pouted at his mother.

"Joe, be nice to your cousin. And your
splashing is going to get her pretty costume all wet."

Joe said, "I'm sorry, Marya," but inside he
was rolling with laughter. Most children didn't wear costumes on
Halloween, but Marya had begged her mother to make her a black
witch's costume out of crepe paper, pointed hat included. Joe felt
there had never been an outfit more suited for his bossy cousin.
Pauline dressed like the Statue of Liberty in a red, white, and
blue dress; and the baby was dressed all in white with a cap of
white feathers to signify that she was an angel.

After bobbing for apples with his cousins and
eating three doughnuts, Joe asked his parents if he could meet his
friends. "Don't get into too much mischief!" Ojciec called after
him.

Joe ran down the street and across the two
blocks to meet a bunch of his classmates at the schoolyard. Six
boys were already sitting on the steps of the cathedral when he
arrived. Joe sat on the bottom step next to Sam and listened to
tales of previous Halloweens. Ten-year-olds, Franz and Tall Paul,
were the last to arrive.

"Well, ninnies… what are we going to do?"
Franz asked.

"Let's soap some windows!"

"Let's tip an outhouse!"

"Open some barn doors and let their horses
out!"

Franz stared down at the boys with a
mischievous smile. "All good ideas, my boys, all good. Where should
we start?"

"Let's head to Black Bottom!" yelled Tall
Paul. The boys whooped and hollered, running down the sidewalk.
Red, yellow and brown leaves crunched under their small feet as
they headed toward a night of adventure. The sound of laughter from
Halloween parties percolated around them and mingled with the
sounds of their own merriment. The sun was beginning to set, and an
orange glow fell over the city. Candles and glittering pumpkins
flickered in the windows of the homes they passed. The evening air
was beginning to cool, and the smells of burning firewood and
home-cooked meals accompanied the rambunctious group on their short
journey out of the safety of their stomping ground.

In a few short blocks they arrived at the
neighborhood where the poor Jews and coloreds lived. The houses
were run down here. Porches sagged, and garbage littered the
alleys. Strange smells drifted into the street. The boys grouped
closer and grew quiet. They gathered in a circle in a dark corner
of an alley to discuss their plans. Joe's eyes scanned the
sidewalks for adversaries. It seemed damp in this forgotten
neighborhood, and he shivered under his thin coat.

The name Black Bottom had originally referred
to the rich, dark soil that covered the lower east side of the
city. Many ethnic groups had established their homes in this area
in the late part of the nineteenth century. They had farmed small
plots of land on the fertile ground and built stores and houses.
But as the years passed, they had moved upward into better
neighborhoods and left the ostracized Jewish people and the newly
arriving southern Negroes behind, resulting in an altogether
different connotation of the phrase Black Bottom.

One of the boys produced a few bars of soap
from his pockets and distributed them among the group.

"Let's grab some garbage from back here and
dump it in their front yards," suggested a small boy from Joe's
class.

"I'm not touching some Jew's leftovers,"
replied Franz.

The other boys nodded in agreement following
the older boys' lead. The boys continued walking quietly down the
dark alley looking for a good opportunity for some trouble. Several
houses down, Franz spotted an open gate.

"Hey, let's sneak in there and turn over
their outhouse!" Paul agreed, eager to show his courage, but the
smaller boys were less enthusiastic.

"I don't know, Franz," replied Joe. "If we do
that first won't they hear us and chase us out of here before we do
any tricks?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right, Joe. We'll do
that at the end of the night for our final hurrah," Franz said. Joe
was surprised to know that the older boy knew his name. "All right,
enough talk, boys… let's have some fun."

The boys darted through the streets, soaping
car windows and overturning flowerpots. When they reached Hastings
Street, the center of the neighborhood, they gathered again. Paul
jimmied a lock on a small barn door in the back of a Jewish market.
The boys wheeled out a wooden wagon and pulled it around the block.
The wagon creaked as they rolled it down the street and Joe looked
around nervously. A tall man with a long gray beard and small cap
on the back of his head looked over at the group as he locked up
his storefront but said nothing. The boys waited till the man
turned the corner and pushed the wagon to the entrance of the
market, blocking the door. Running and laughing down the street
they chanted "Sztuczka! Sztuczka!" (Trick! Trick!)

Pushing deeper into Black Bottom, they
entered the area the Negroes inhabited. Here, light was scarce, as
there were no gas or electric streetlights. The street was eerily
quiet. Only the sound of a crying baby reached their ears.

"Grab some old tires, wood or broken
furniture, and meet me at the end of the street," Tall Paul said,
pointing to a rundown house a block away. Joe found the remains of
what had been a small suitcase and carried it to the designated
location. When he neared the side of the house he saw Paul hanging
halfway up a wooden trellis, holding a flat tire. Paul shinned up
and down the trellis carrying the items the boys had found and
piled them comically on the edge of the home's roof. The boys
laughed and guffawed until a light appeared in the upper bedroom
and they ran for cover.

As the group headed back toward their
neighborhood, Franz stopped and grabbed a wooden cart that was
sitting on one of the small front yards and began to pull it down
the street. When they reached the corner that separated the Polish
and Jewish neighborhoods, Franz pulled it into the middle of the
street.

"Grab some kindling, boys!" he commanded. The
boys ran around to the alley looking for scraps of paper and cloth.
Quickly they amassed a large quantity of discarded goods and placed
them in the pushcart. Franz produced a box of matches from his
jacket pocket. Soon the papers caught and the cart was in
flames.

Suddenly in the light of the bonfire, another
group of boys appeared on the other side of the street. Joe could
not see the faces of the boys, but he could tell by their body
language there was going to be trouble. As the enemy group got
closer, Joe noticed a few were carrying wooden sticks and clubs.
The Polish boys slowly edged backwards, trying to find cover in the
darkness of the night. Joe and his friends turned to run but were
stopped in their tracks by three older boys blocking their way.