<<< back to student roster
JOSEPH GROTSKY
My Stories:
I was born in Montreal, Canada, on January 29, 1914. When I was 9 years old we moved to Chicago and I lived there until 1934 when I got a job in the Government Printing Office in Washington, DC to help with the New Deal. I went nights to George Washington University earned a degree in chemistry.
I met my wife in 1942 and found a job in NJ as a chemist at Ortho Pharmaceutical. They made a contraceptive cream. I went to NYU at night after work and got a Masters degree in Chemistry.
When the PILL was invented I worked on analytical techniques to make lower doses practical. I retired after 33 years and moved to LA where I learned to prepare taxes and worked at that about twenty years. Now I socialize, read a lot, write letters to the editor of various publications, speculate some on the stock market, and enjoy my family, especially my new grandson who is four years old and reads already.
<<< back to top
"We've got to earn some money." I meant it. Pa has been giving me a hard time. I've really looked everywhere and there are just no jobs. Chicago in 1930 was tough on teenagers. "What do you say, we peddle?" Pete suggested. I didn't know if he meant it or not. Last week he tried to convince me that people would pay me if I stood outside a fancy restaurant and offered to pick people's teeth for two cents. "New toothpicks, five cents!" he said. "You'll clean up."
But now he really meant it. "Let's go down to the wholesale market and buy some fruit or vegetables and then go through the alley hollering what we're selling, and we should do all right because people have to eat." "We'll have to ask Pa for some money to buy stuff ... or do you think we should ask Ma?" he asked. 'Pa," I said. "He won't like it if we don't ask him."
Pa was a tough one to ask for money. If it was something for school, like a notebook he would give it to you right away, but if it was for a soda or to go to the movies you could do better asking Ma.
She never asked me to go find a tree where money grows. We went down stairs to the combination plumbing store and shop where Pa was reading the "Forward," a Yiddish newspaper, while waiting and hoping to be disturbed by a customer needing a length of pipe or a coupling or maybe even a plumbing job. "Pa, me and Pini want to peddle fruits and vegetables and would like some money to get started."
"So you want to be a business man already." "Yeh, people have to eat and we can buy stuff at the wholesale market and use the coaster wagon as our truck." "Nu, just buy things we can eat if you don't sell anything." With that he pulled his wallet out of his side pocket (most people used their back pocket for a wallet but Pa always said that pickpockets went to the back pockets) and then slowly counted out three dollars.
"I don't think that's enough," Pini said. "We want a few things to sell." "Already you talk like a business man, here is another dollar." It was easier then I had anticipated. Pini is my younger brother. At home he's Pini (except Ma called him Pinille) but outside the house, he is Pete and in class at school, teachers called him Peter just as I was Yussel (Yussele to Ma) at home, Joe in the street and Joseph to my teachers.
Next morning we were up, had breakfast, and, pulling our coaster wagon, at five o'clock we left the house for the market. We went to the closest streetcar stop. "Hey, you kids can't bring that wagon on this car, what do you think this is, a truck?" "It's like a package, everyone brings packages on streetcars." "A wagon isn't a package," he sounded adamant. "It won't hurt anyone, I'll hold it if more people come in, and you're not crowded yet." "Me and my brother are just going to the market to buy stuff to peddle," Pete pleaded. "But if we walk we'll be too late to get any good stuff."
"Oh, OK," he relented. "But hold onto that wagon that it doesn't roll around in the car." "Thanks, and I won't let it roll." I gave him 14 cents carfare. There were only two other passengers on the streetcar. The market contained a number of large stores and many stalls where merchants or farmers could sell their produce. When we got there the market showed signs of tapering off after a busy night's work. Everywhere there was debris of all kinds, such as papers, boxes, and trampled on food. Some stalls were already closing and the owners were loading their trucks to take the produce back to their warehouse, or maybe their farm. We were limited as we had to get products that we could sell by count as we had no scale.
Pete said, "Let's get a pound of sugar and we could hold it to see what a pound feels like and we can use that like a scale, nobody has a scale so they can't check and it will be close enough." I thought a moment, "Maybe we'll have to do that but let's try to get stuff we can sell by count first." Then we went all through the market looking at, and pricing everything as if we knew what we were doing.
"How much are the apples?" "$1.45 a bushel." We continued. "How much are the apples?" "$1.55 a bushel." We conferred and back to the first place. "Iıll give you $1.25." "Can't do it kid, make it $1.40." Pete broke in, "Look, you don't want to haul that home and bring it back tomorrowmake it $1.25." "How about $1.30?" "It's a deal."
"What do you think I could sell them for?" Pete asked. "They're nice apples, easy 10 cents a pound." Then we conferred and decided to get them. We put our bushel of apples on the wagon continued down the market. We added half a bushel of lettuce and a box of tomatoes to our store and the wagon was loaded.
The man who sold us the tomatoes asked us if we had bags to bring the food from the wagon to the customer. We had forgotten that little detail and looked at each other. "I've got some quart boxes you can have." We thanked him and got ready for business. By that time the market was closing and we were planning our walk home.
This was no small matter. The success of our venture depended on our choosing a route where people would be most likely to buy our wares-and people weren't buying that much in Chicago in 1930. "One thing," I suggested. "We had better walk toward home because no conductor will let us get on the streetcar with all this stuff. And we'll save carfare."
"It's almost seven o'clock-when do you think we can start peddling?" Pete asked. "I dunno, I'm up and you're up so I guess most people are up and it's not as if we'll wake them up so what have we got to lose?" So we went into the alley between Green and Peoria streets to start our business. We looked down the long alley at the back stairs of all the two and three story houses down the block. It was so deserted and quiet that it felt eerie.
We looked at each other, who would break that stillness; it seemed almost sacrilegious. As the older brother it was up to me. "Lettuce, Tomatoes, Apples!" I yelled, stretching the last syllable to make it sound better. Again, "Lettuuss, tomatoooes, apples."
It was a disastrous beginning-not a single customer. We stopped and each ate an apple, and considered. "You yell Pete, see how you make out." He started out, "Apples, 3 for a dime, lettuce 10 cents a head and beautiful tomatoes 4 for a dime."
At last, a customer! Someone beckoned us from an apartment building. I let Pete continue hollering while I put 3 apples, 4 tomatoes, and a head of lettuce into the baskets and climbed up the three floors to my first customer. She examined the tomatoes carefully, squeezed the lettuce while I held my breath.
They all passed muster but she didn't want the apples. "I'd like two more tomatoes." "Yes, Ma'am!" and I rushed downstairs and came back with two tomatoes and collected a quarter. We were on our way, the ice was broken and all would be well.
<<< back to top
One of my closest boyhood friends was Van. His full name was Oscar Herbert Maxmillion Van Turingen but for some unknown reason everyone but his mother and brother called him Van. He was thin, tall and blond and I was thin, short and dark so we were an odd looking pair.
We met at the high school chess club when we were freshmen of the 1932 class of Englewood High school in Chicago. We were both members of the Chess and Checkers Club and would play chess after school every Monday.
One day we were playing a game and the position was complex, demanding a lot of thought. We were both very tense when we heard an announcement, "OK boys, wind it up and out in ten minutes." We looked at each other, we hated to stop and leave such an absorbing position. We wanted to finish it now and not write down the position and continue next Monday. "Let's come to my house and finish, and we'll use my grandfather's chess set that my folks brought with them from Holland," he suggested.
And that was the first time I visited his home. It was so different then my house. It was neater. Books were in shelves and in bookcases, not scattered around the room or open, face down, on a table. The end tables had doilies holding decorative objects. There were pictures in frames on the wall. The windows had drapes as well as curtains and there was a player piano against the wall. It was truly elegant.
Van introduced me to his mother who was unable to walk but was in a chair that had been fitted with casters so she could propel herself around the house.
Then we sat down to continue our game. The chess set was made of ivory and the pieces were sculpted. The king and queen looked regal, the knights were on horseback and looked fierce, the bishops had an ecclesiastical look, the castles each resembled a fortress and the pawns were foot soldiers with shields. I had never seen a set like that and was impressed.
Playing with it was a pleasure. The pieces were heavier than the ones we usually used and when we made a move it seemed to have more authority. It gave me a feeling of indulging in a luxury new to me. Alas it did not add to my skill as a chess player. We set up the game and continued our play.
In a few minutes his mother rolled in on her chair carrying two cups of hot cocoa. It was the best cocoa I had ever had and far better than the Hershey cocoa I was used to. She told me it was a Dutch cocoa called Droste. (I once prevailed on my mother to buy some and she did and we liked it, but she never bought it againtoo expensive.)
After finishing our game we sat and talked, Mrs. Van Turingen came out with cookies and joined the conversation. Van said that we didn't have to wait for Monday to play chess we could always play after school. So on our way home from school we very often used to stop to play chess and visit or just talk. His mother always treated us with cookies and hot chocolate or tea (with milk instead of lemon). She would press a second helping on us always saying, "You can't walk on one leg." She was interested in us and would occasionally join us in conversation.
Van and I liked the same books, enjoyed the same poetry and had similar strong political beliefs. We talked about everything, politics, fascism, communism, socialism, about Hitler and the civil war in Spain, the capitalist system and about Father Coughlin (a rabid anti-Semite who was on the radio weekly and had a large following).
But never about anything personal. So one day I was surprised when he was uncharacteristically extremely depressed. "What's the matter, Van?" He began to cry. "I'm so ashamed, I don't see how I can ever look Mother in the eye again!" he sobbed. I waited.
"I was at the Empress Theatre and this girl sat down next to me, though the theatre was almost empty and she could have sat down anywhere. Soon she put her hand on my knee and started to move it around then she took my hand, raised her dress, and put my hand on her thigh." He could hardly contain himself and could barely continue. "Oh Joe, I lost my honor, and she had none to lose." I tried to console him but oh, how I envied him!
<<< back to top
"A TELEGRAM, YOUıVE GOT A TELEGRAM!" These excited words greeted me as I entered the door after a day's work as a dishwasher at the 1934 Chicago Worlds Fair Stork Club. "A telegram, for me, who's it from, what does it say, let's see it."
The whole family was there, I don't remember that any of us had ever received a telegram. They all turned to Ben, my older brother, who was then going to Law School at the University of Chicago. He began, "You remember, about a year ago you took a civil service exam at the Post Office."
"Of course I remember, it says here I've got a job." "Well, not exactly, it says that you have to show up at the Government Printing Office in Washington at nine o'clock Monday morning and pass a physical exam and pick up and shoulder a bag of books weighing 125 pounds, then you have a job paying 66 cents an hour." "Wow, Iım pretty strong, I have to try."
Pa butt in, "125 pounds is more then you weigh, it will cost a lot of money, and if you don't get the job is verlorene gelt." "Donıt worry, Pa, it's not lost money, I'll manage to pick it up, gee, for 66 cents an hour I'll pick it up."
My kid brother, Pete had to add his voice, "If you don't pick it up they'll pick you up and toss you out the door, when is the last time you picked more then a hundred pounds?" "Shut up, Pete and no wise cracks.
Monday morning, I can't depend on getting there if I hitch-hike." "I'm pretty sure I can pick up the return of a round trip cheap. They're always advertised," Ben said. "I'll get it tomorrow when they're desperate to sell." "It's Thursday, I'll go in and work tomorrow and get paid, and tomorrow I'll get everything ready and see if I can borrow a suitcase."
"Bella must have a suitcase, Ma, you can call her." Bella was my cousin and she didn't get along too well with Pa but everyone liked Ma and if anybody could borrow Bella's suitcase it would be Ma or maybe Ben because he was almost a lawyer. Bella and her husband, Avrum had a wholesale and retail drug store (they were both pharmacists) and had a nice apartment near the University of Chicago so they could go to free lectures there.
My father made fun of them because they had carpets on the wall; they must have been tapestries, but to us they were carpets. Ma came back to report, "Bella said, 'If you take her suitcase to Washington will it fly back, and what if she needs it while Yussel is in Washington?' so what could I say?" We were stuck.
Finally Ben said, "I'll look through the ads and find a used suitcase for sale." Ma asked, "Nu so where will you live in Washington?" "A palace, don't worry, Iıll find a place." "You can rent a room at the YMCA till you find a better place," Pete said, "Louie told me you could always stay cheap at the YMCA, and he did that when he hitch-hiked to Cleveland."
"Mit the goyim," Ma was concerned. She had lost her two brothers in a pogrom in Russia and was always worried about associating with Christians. "Don't worry, Mamele I won't convert. The Christian in YMCA doesn't mean anything, lots of good Jewish boys go there."
Just then the phone rang and Ma answered it. She soon came back. "It was Bella, she didn't want to stand in the way of Yussel getting a good job and her suitcase is old and she could use a new one so he can have the old one and she'll bring it here tomorrow.
You better shine your shoes before you go to Washington, I'll do the laundry so you'll have some clean clothes." "It looks like everything will be all right. Ben will get the ticket, Bella will bring her suitcase, Ma will get your clothes ready, you'll get paid tomorrow and I'll have some money for you too."
Pa was resigned to my going to Washington and had confidence that I, somehow, would overcome the 125 pound obstacle. If only I were as certain. I went to work the next morning, excited that I would be leaving and starting a new career. Since this job would end when the fair closed at the end of summer and only paid two dollars for a nine hour day (22 cents/ hour), I was glad to get such a promising replacement.
"Is Mr. Day in yet, I've got a government job in Washington and I want to tell him this is my last day and I want my pay when I leave." "How did you get it, do you got connections?" "Sure, FDR is my uncle." "Iım not kidding, Iıd like a government job, so how do you get it?" They all gathered around as I explained how my brother had seen the notice of a Civil Service exam for government jobs a year ago. I took the exam and had forgotten about it until now when I received this telegram offering me a job as a laborer.
After the excitement died down and everyone was back at work, this older man who was just getting ready to leave after working all night, when he heard my announcement and came up to me, "Joe, I'm a good worker and I worked in a printing office so talk to them there tell them about me that I'm a real good worker. I can clean the printing press and get all the ink off, make it like new, explain they should give me a job." I explained that it was a Civil Service job and I had taken a test, but he would have none of that, so I finally said that I would tell the boss there all about what a good worker he was and they should give him a job.
He was happy. "You're a good talker, Joe, you'll tell them." I felt bad lying like that but he could never accept the truth. He may have some unfounded hopes but I could never explain to him and maybe a futile hope is better then no hope at all.
There was this girl there, Mildred. Everyone was trying to date her with much less then honorable intensions. I was too shy, but in the last few days she suddenly showed an interest in me and I was beginning to think I would go out with her and maybe learn something about women. When I looked at her I was sorry that it was my last day.
Mr. Day was very nice, he wished me luck and paid me the eight dollars due me. I felt good but could hardly control my inner turmoil as I went home on the street car. "You have to leave Saturday morning at a quarter to ten and you'll be in Washington at noon on Sunday."
These words greeted me as soon as I opened the door. "You can call us when you get there, just two rings and hang up so we'll know youıre there and it won't cost anything." "All right, all right, letıs see the ticket," as I reached for it. "It cost five bucks but expires Saturday night, so the guy had to sell it.
Ben paid five but Pa would have gotten it for three I bet." "Pinni, you talk too much, let Yussel alone so he can eat and give someone else a chance to say something. Soon it will be 'Amos and Andy' and then 'Mrs. Goldberg' so we have to eat and then hear them on the radio."
Ma would never miss her favorite radio shows and as the radio was in the living room we would not hear it unless we were through eating and in the living room. We turned on the light in the living room and Pa said nothing.
Usually he would complain about the electric bill and ask why we needed a light to listen to a radio. After "Mrs. Goldberg" Ma took control. She had washed and ironed my clothes and now she packed the suitcase and gave me a quick course in caring for my clothing.
The next morning we all went to the station to see me off. Ma had a big bag with sandwiches and fruit. Pa gave me ten dollars, Pete had a buck he gave me, and I had my own twelve dollars. To our surprise Bella and Avrum joined us at the station. "If you are going away we have to say good-bye." And Bella gave me two dollars. There was lots of talking and kissing and I finally got on the train and was on my way to what?! How could I pick up one hundred and twenty five pounds? But that was tomorrow's worry and now I looked to see what Ma had brought me to eat.
<<< back to top
Admonitions, hugs, handshakes and kisses behind me, suitcase in one hand and a bag of food in the other, I boarded the train. Evidently not too many people start a trip on Saturday morning, for the train was far from full and I had a seat to myself.
First I looked into the bag to see what Ma had prepared for my journey. There were sandwiches, three fried egg, two salmon salad which I loved, and five peanut butter and banana, and a pear, two apples, and a banana. Also some postcards, Ma knew me well and was not about to give me an excuse, I got the hint.
She told me that there would be water on the train. It seemed to be enough food but I thought I had better wait before eating, at least till the train left the station. I looked out of the window and the whole family was still there waiting for the train to leave. I dutifully waved and they waved back.
Ma and Bella were talking to each other; they always had some thing to say to each other. The men weren't talking much, just waiting for the train to start. Of course Avram never said much and Pa and Pete could talk at home away from the noise of the train, so I could see that they would say an occasional word but mostly they were impatient, as I was, to see the train leave.
Finally the train started to move. A last wave and they started for the exit as we left the station. I looked at the food but restrained myself. The view from the window absorbed me. We navigated through a rail yard and I could see tracks and freight trains in all directions. The box cars each had the name of a railroad painted on its side. From Union Pacific in the west to N. Y. Central in the east, the geographical diversity was mind boggling.
As we wormed our way through the yard, I wondered what brought all the cars together and speculated on their contents and ultimate destinations. In about ten minutes, we left the yard and were soon going through the industrial and poorer residential section of Chicago.
As we left Chicago, the bag of food became irresistible and I gobbled one of the salmon sandwiches which was so good that I soon followed it with the second. Meanwhile the train was doing its thing and speeding across the plain.
There was not much to see except an occasional town or small city. We drove by the poorer sections of the cities and saw unkempt yards, sometimes with a laundry line bearing clothes to dry, and often with a half disassembled auto which was obviously valuable only for its parts.
I had two books with me: a copy of "The Three Musketeers" and a book on mathematical analysis both of which I got at a used book store for twenty five cents each. First I tried the novel but could not get involved. Then I started doing some math problems but they were either ridiculously easy or painfully difficult and I couldn't concentrate.
My mind kept jumping ... one hundred and twenty five pounds, one hundred and twenty five pounds of books. How could I do it, but somehow I must and I will. Sixty six cents an hour, wow, which figures out to twenty-six forty a week, double wow! But one hundred and twenty five pounds. I'll have to do it, I will do it, gotta get that job, sixty six cents an hour!
Thus torn between ecstasy and despair, I sat there day dreaming. If the hundred and twenty five pounds should prove insurmountable I decided I would look around Washington for some other job and try to live there for awhile. I could always hitch-hike home if I should have to but the job situation in Chicago was so bad and the 1934 fair would soon be closing and everyone working there will need a job so I'll give Washington a chance even if I don't get the government job.
I wondered what the job would be like. The telegram said "laborer." What would they expect me to do, load mail trucks with bags of books? I didnıt think I could last long if that was the job even for sixty-six cents an hour. I went back to the sandwiches again.
Thus I spent the day, worrying about the job I hoped to get and contingency planning should I fail the test and not get the job. Night finally came and I tried to sleep. I tried to lie down on the seat but it didn't work out. I tried using my suitcase and then my books as pillows but nothing worked so I finally had to sleep as well as I could while sitting up. I tried to think of something else but sixty-six cents and one hundred and twenty five pounds would not be evicted from my mind.
The sandwiches and fruit were long gone when we pulled into Union Station and we were in Washington at last. First I looked for an available phone booth. There were lots of phone booths but most of them were occupied.
I wondered idly if anyone here had a route like Jan's in Chicago. He used to go and stuff newspapers in the return slot of telephones and come back later and pull out the papers and collect all the returned coins. He always had plenty of money, especially nickels. I thought of getting my own route but never did, I said it was dishonest and I wouldnıt do it but really I was scared.
If I could get the money from the phone company I might have done it but to get from some poor guy didn't seem right. I found an empty booth and called home-two rings and I hung up. My nickel didn't come back so I reached in and pulled out a wad of paper and got about thirty nickels. That didn't bother me because I didn't put the paper in but the guy who did would really be mad at me. I thought about going to some other phones and seeing if I could collect more money but decided against it. If a cop saw, and picked me up I wouldn't have to worry about a bag of books.
Then I went to the Travelers Aid counter to find out how to get to the YMCA. The lady gave me very specific directions, where to get the bus, the bus number, where to get off, and which direction to go. She also gave me a map. There was no one else there and she evidently felt a need to talk to someone. At that moment I did not share the need and was glad when I finally left her and got on the bus.
The driver called me when we reached my street and pointed me toward the YMCA. It was a dark grey stone building and seemed rather dismal. The lobby was quite dim as there were no windows and an inadequate number of electric bulbs to provide good light. There was a worn out carpet on the floor, the walls needed painting, and the air was thick with smoke. Two boys were playing checkers and some men were playing cards as other men watched, each man had a number of coins in front of him, all were smoking.
I saw a sign over the counter saying "No Gambling Allowed" as I approached the desk to ask about a room. "Do you have a room for rent here?" "Yeah, I got a room, but the bathroom is down the hall." "How much?" "Six bits a night, four bucks a week but you got to pay in advance."
I thought a moment, at four dollars I would save a dollar and a quarter for the week. But suppose I couldnıt lift the hundred and twenty five pounds, but I had decided to stay here and look for a job if this one didnıt pan out. Now I felt that this was my Rubicon and I decided to stay a week no matter what. "OK, here's four bucks, I'll stay a week." "Here's the key, room 23, this is the main floor and next floor is the first floor and youıre on the second floor."
I nodded, took the key and climbed up to my room. A bed, a bureau, a table with a lamp on it and some hooks on the wall. Two towels were folded and lying on the bureau. Not luxury, but it would do and I could stay here for a few weeks till I found another place. God, I hope I can lift the bag of books.
Washington, the very idea rejuvenated me and I had to go outside and walk a little. I studied the map and realized I was not too far from the White House. Maybe I would see FDR or maybe Eleanor hanging out the laundry, now that would be worth writing home about.
I wondered if they hung out the laundry at the White House. Probably not, I'd bet they send it to a laundry and it all comes back flat so they don't really have to iron it. Ma always said that Bella got her laundry done flat but she was the only one we knew to do so, everyone else got wet wash and had to hang it out to dry and then iron everything. Bella got her laundry flat and didn't have to iron but Ma got wet wash and had to iron everything. So guess who had a fancy electric iron and who heated the iron on the stove. But we all liked Bella, even Pa.
Thinking about them while walking made me homesick, I wished that Pete were here so we could laugh together at the idea of Eleanor hanging clothes out to dry. I walked all around the White House and saw no laundry lines. I did see the Washington monument so I walked there and could see the Capital building in the distance but it looked too far to walk. In the other direction there was an impressive building, the Lincoln Memorial, so I went there instead. Itıs not easy to say how impressed I was by that seated figure and the inscription in back of the chair. "WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE AND CHARITY TO ALL..." The words were so beautiful and I thought if only we could get rid of malice and show charity how many of the worldıs problems would lighten.
I stood there about half an hour reading rereading and mouthing those noble words and wondering what a turn our history might have taken had he lived. It was getting dusk when I left to return to my new home and wait for tomorrow.
On the way home I stopped at a small store and spent thirty-five cents for an apple, a half-pound of salami, and a loaf of white bread. I would have preferred rye bread but the white bread was sliced and the rye bread wasn't.
At the Y a couple of boys were playing chess so I stopped to watch them while I prepared and ate a sandwich. There was a water fountain in the lobby so it was a good place to eat since there was no water in my room and I would have to fill a glass in the bathroom three doors away when I wanted a drink.
The position on the chessboard was complex, I would have looked to exchange pieces to simplify, but since I didn't know them I didn't say anything and I just ate silently and watched. It was hard not to say anything and I was very tired so I went up to my room. I unlocked and opened the door.
When I switched on the light, I saw at least fifty cockroaches racing across the floor to hide. Never had I seen so many cockroaches. I was dismayed. No wonder I had to pay in advance. Now what should I do? I had paid my rent for a week and if I couldn't somehow lift the 125 pounds, I would be unemployed so I had to stay there. Better leave my clothes in the suitcase since maybe cockroaches lay eggs and I'd never get away from them.
I decided to eat the rest of the salami, put the remaining bread in the suitcase, and not leave anything in the open. I went back to the lobby, finished the salami sandwich, saw the end of the chess game, and returned to my room.
When I opened the door there were no cockroaches in sight. Evidently, they stayed away from the light. Good, I would sleep with the light on. Ma had put an alarm clock in the suitcase so I set it for six-thirty and went to bed. I slept well but woke up early, before the clock rang, and was thinking of the people with whom I would be working.
They would all be bigger then me and stronger too since they all had to lift 125 pounds. I wondered if there would be other Jewish boys. If the job meant that much heavy work, I'd look around for another job Saturday. I was up early enough to take a bath and the tub looked reasonably clean. I figured a bath now would last the week and then I'd have a better place. I got dressed keeping the suitcase open the minimum time and went downstairs.
There was another fellow at the desk and he asked me how I slept. I told him that the cockroaches slept better then I did. He laughed and asked where I was from. I told him and he wanted to know if I had been to the Fair. We talked for a few minutes, I told him about the fair, and he told me about Washington. The job situation was not too bad and I would find something. It sounded a lot better then Chicago so I felt better. If I were to flunk the 125-pound test, he was sure I would find something. I finally asked him how to get to the Government Printing Office. "Letıs see your map." I produced it and he studied it. "The GPO is here," he pointed. "GPO?" I asked. "Government Printing Office, everyone calls it GPO." "So how do I get there?"
"Taxi," he laughed. "You take the number 16 bus to K Street then you can walk to Capitol Street about three blocks or take a bus on K Street to Capitol and then the GPO is about a block south. It's a big building, you can't miss it. I've never been there. I wonder if they have tours. My sister and her husband..." "Thanks," I interrupted, "but I really have to go now." It was obvious that he wanted me to stay and talk, but I was anxious to go though it was it was still early. The bus was full but not crowded and I didn't buy a transfer.
I wanted to walk around the neighborhood. The houses were usually two story brick, though occasionally three stories. They each had a front yard. The yards showed different levels of care. Some had carefully mowed lawns, some had shrubbery, some flowers, and some showed a minimum of attention. There was a restaurant across the street from the GPO so I went in for breakfast. Two eggs, a glass of milk, and toast for twenty cents.
At a few minutes before nine I nervously walked into the lobby of the GPO, went to the desk of the lone man there, and showed him my telegram. He barely glanced at me but I was sure he was thinking, "This kid is gonna lift 125 pounds, ha, he'll be out in the street in two hours." But he said, "Take the elevator to the second floor and across from the elevator go into that door." I followed the instructions and entered the office where I was given a number of forms to fill out.
I sat down at a nearby desk, carefully filled out the forms, and then brought them back to the clerk. "You're from Chicago." I heard pity in her voice at the thought that I had come all the way from Chicago in a vain effort to find a job. She had a cousin in Chicago who had been in the Fair twice and said it was wonderful and she was going there on her vacation and see it for herself. "You've got to have the doctor's OK and he's next door, give him these." I felt the pity in her voice as she handed me some papers.
Papers in hand and fear in my heart, I walked in to see the doctor. He was at his desk and writing. He paid no attention to me. In the corner, looking at me threateningly was a brown canvas bag slouched over some hidden contents. Finally, he looked up and extended his hand for my papers. I handed them to him. He looked at them, looked at me, and stood up. He was a few inches taller then me and looked imposing as a doctor should. "Stick out your tongue." He counted my eyes, two, and my ears, also two. Then he said, "See that canvas bag there." "Yes." I passed the vision test at least. "See what you can do with it."
Unhappily I knew what he meant. I warily approached the bag. I grasped the top and yanked. The books moved a little and one corner of the bag raised slightly. "Pull it up on one knee," he suggested I kneeled and struggled with the bag and a few of the books inside slid over and I could feel them on my knee, I struggled to pull the rest of the bag up. "That's good enough; bring these papers back to the girl in the front office." I had passed; I had a job paying sixty-six cents an hour!
<<< back to top
