Jamie slammed open the door to the boardinghouse kitchen and then paused, trying desperately to catch his breath. Dandy, who’d valiantly run most of the way with him, collapsed at his feet, panting in loud gasps.
It was only a little after six, but there were already four people in the kitchen, and they all turned to look at him.
Mrs. Beatrice O’Rourke, her apron neatly tied around her ample waist and her gray hair in a braided coronet around her head, was conferring with Mrs. Annie Dawson next to the pantry. The boardinghouse owner, a good head or two taller than her housekeeper, stood, perhaps unconsciously, with her hands placed protectively over her stomach.
Kathleen, now dressed in her black uniform and spotless white apron, with her braid tucked up under a white cap, had been putting a plate of eggs and biscuits down in front of the young girl, Emmaline, and she frowned at Jamie’s abrupt entrance. Emmaline paused with a glass of milk in her hand, and her panicked dark blue eyes revealed how much of her true emotions she’d been hiding behind a calm exterior all week.
However, it was Kathleen who was the first to respond, running over to him and exclaiming, “Jamie, what’s wrong? Has something happened to Ian?”
“Miss…I don’t know for sure. It might be nothing. But he wasn’t at the Chronicle.”
Jamie took a deep breath and tried to sound calmer. “When I didn’t see him, I waited around until all the papers were passed out and asked the clerk if he’d seen Ian. He looked at his register and said that while Ian had been picking up the Chronicle every morning this week, he’d not shown up this morning.”
“He’s been skipping school?” Kathleen’s tone shifted from fear to anger. “Wait until I get my hands on him. Probably decided he’s made his money for the week and slept in.”
“I hope so, miss. Nevertheless, I thought I would go to a couple of the grocers and newsstands on Mason Street where he sells the Evening Bulletin. I mean, even if he’d not made it to Miss Laura’s print shop yesterday, didn’t seem likely he’d skip selling to his regular Bulletin customers.”
Kathleen looked down at Dandy, whose skinny chest was still heaving, and said sharply, “What did you learn? You’d never push the pup that hard if you’d not heard something that scared you.”
“Most of the shops were still closed this early, but one man was opening up. He said Ian hadn’t showed up with the Bulletin yesterday afternoon. It was after I left his store that I noticed a Chronicle newsboy, the one they call Scratchy, sort of skulking in the shadows. At first, I thought he was looking to see if he could poach on Ian’s route. I’d noticed him before, because he’s so young, leastways, he looks young cause he’s so small.”
“But?”
“But then he came up to me. Knelt down to pat Dandy, who gave him a lick on his hand, so I knew he was okay. He asked if I was taking over from the Professor…that’s what the other newsboys call Ian. When I said no, but that I was a friend and I was looking for him, he told me if I was his friend I should tell him he needed to be careful. A couple of the older boys were angry. Felt Ian had been trying to steal their regular morning Chronicle customers this week. Boasted that they were going to teach him a lesson. Could be these boys confronted him yesterday and he decided to skip selling papers today. But what worried me is that it isn’t like Ian to back down from a fight, and that maybe he’d been beaten badly enough he’d had to go home. And, if he didn’t come out to sell papers today…well, I thought you should know right away.”
For a moment, no one said or did anything, and all Jamie could hear, beside the gradually slowing beat of his heart and Dandy’s panting, was the rising whistle of the kettle on the stove. Thankfully, Mrs. Dawson then took charge.
As she crossed the kitchen to silence the kettle, she said, “Kathleen, you should go to your uncle’s, immediately. See if Ian is there. Make sure he’s all right. If need be, bring him back here straight away.”
Turning to Mrs. O’Rourke, she said, “Bea, give Kathleen some of the housekeeping money…in case she needs to bring him back in a cab. No, Kathleen, don’t protest. Most likely you’ll find the boy in bed, asleep. But if he’s been hurt, you’ll want to bring him back here with you.”
Mrs. Dawson paused, frowned, and then said, “Jamie, can you go with Kathleen? It’s still dark out, and I really will feel better if she’s got a male escort in that part of town. I will tell your mother what’s happened when she gets up. But leave Dandy here. We’ll take good care of him, won’t we, Emmaline?”
Jamie nodded, and before he’d even caught his breath, he and Kathleen were out the door, heading back to the North Beach and Mission horse cars, only this time to head south.
Kathleen and he stood before a three-storied residence that leaned tiredly against its neighbor. What had started out as a clear night with stars was now a cloudy early morning, with a chill wind hinting at rain later in the day.
They had been able to catch a car going south as soon as they got to Market and Fourth by foot, and the car was only half full, so were able to get seats. Jamie figured most of the people who worked in the warehouses and factories in this part of town lived nearby, so they didn’t need to waste ten cents a day on transportation to and from work.
As soon as the car took off, Kathleen had turned to him and said, “I can tell you are holding something back. I want you to tell me everything. I need to know what’s been going on.”
So Jamie told her about how her Uncle Frank had been taking pretty much everything Ian earned and that his falling out with his friend had been over Ian’s decision first to stay late on Sunday to sell extra papers and then to skip school on Monday to sell the morning Chronicle. He told her he had the impression his uncle had started to push Ian to make more money.
When he apologized for keeping all this from her before, Kathleen had shaken her head and said, “It’s Uncle Frank who’s to blame. Not you or Ian. But if I find out either of my other brothers knew what was going on, they’re going to be mighty sorry.”
This block of Harrison, three blocks west of Fourth Street, was made up mostly of cheap, wooden three-story houses that had been thrown up quickly, with an occasional grimy plate glass window on the first floor that proclaimed some sort of commercial enterprise. The streets were narrower south of Market, with fewer gas lamps to penetrate the darkness. Since it had been a little after six when they left the boardinghouse, dawn was still at least an hour away. Yet many of the upper floors showed the glimmer of lights behind ratty, old curtains, including a window on the second floor of this building.
“This where your Uncle Frank lives?” Jamie whispered, not hiding the surprise in his voice. Even in the half-light of the nearby street lamp, he could see that the gray paint was peeling in strips, the steps were cracked and dirty, and the front door was so warped it didn’t close completely.
“Yes, my family moved into three rooms on the second floor in sixty-nine, right before my brother was born and about four years before my mother died. When my father passed on, his younger brother Frank moved in with his family. I thought at the time it would be good for Ian to stay with Uncle Frank because he was only four and at least the place would be familiar. Colin and Aiden moved out to live with my two other Hennessey uncles, Uncle George and Uncle Sean, and I went into service. Hard to believe the building was brand new in sixty-nine. Sure has gone down hill considerably. Looks to me like someone’s up, so let’s go on in.”
As they fumbled their way down the dark front hallway, Jamie found himself pulling his scarf up over his nose. The interior was even colder than the outside, but mostly he was trying to ward off the smell, which reminded him strongly of an unventilated outhouse. There was a feeble bit of light coming down the stairwell, and following Kathleen up to the second floor, he saw this came from a flickering jet at the end of the corridor. Kathleen went down the hall to a door towards the front of the house and pushed her way in.
Jamie started to enter behind her and then paused, knocked back by the sheer chaos of the scene in front of him. The room seemed to be both a kitchen and a laundry, and he guessed a bedroom as well if the two small lumps on a cot pushed up against the wall turned out to be sleeping children. There was a large tub of water boiling on a small oil stove, and clothes hung across lines strung from one side of the room to another. In addition, the table and chairs that took up the center of the room were stacked with piles of unwashed laundry. While the room was significantly warmer than the hallway, it smelled damp and mildewy, and he thought he’d be soaking wet if he spent anytime within its steamy walls.
A small brunette with a pinched face and a softly mewling baby on her hip stopped poking whatever was in the tub with a long wooden paddle and snarled, “Well, if it ain’t my little niece. What brings you here?”
“I’m looking for Ian, Aunt Fiona.” Kathleen snapped, “Is he here?”
“No, he ain’t, and he was supposed to turn over his earnings last night but didn’t show. He knows the rent’s due today, probably lost it all playing craps and was afraid to show his face. Believe you me, he’ll have some explaining to do when he gets home.”
“Seems to me you and Uncle Frank are the ones who need to do the explaining. I give you money every week so you’ll take care of my brother, not so he’ll take care of you.”
Kathleen pointed to a door beside the cot. “Jamie, would you go on through to the boys’ room, make sure Ian’s not there, while I have a little word with my aunt?”
Jamie had never heard quite that tone of voice from Kathleen, so he quickly threaded his way to the door, ducking under the laundry, trying not to knock anything over. When he entered the next room, at first he couldn’t see anything, it was so dark. What he could hear was the sound of an adult man snoring, which puzzled him. Ian had told him that his two older cousins had already left home, so there should only be the two girls, ages eleven and twelve, probably the lumps under the covers in the front room, and the three younger boys, ages, nine, seven, and four, in the apartment.
There was some light coming in from the adjacent building, and as his eyes adjusted, he saw that the room seemed entirely filled with two beds and a broken-down wardrobe, from which clothing spilled. One of the beds, a double with a headboard that matched the wardrobe, held a fully clothed man, from whom waves of stale alcohol blasted out with every labored breath. The other bed, a single mattress on a rusty iron bed frame, held three boys who were sitting up wide-eyed, looking at him, the youngest with his thumb planted firmly in his mouth.
He crept over to the boys and said quietly, “Have you seen Ian?”
The oldest shook his head.
“When was he last here?”
That seemed to confound them for a moment, until the older boy whispered, “Thursday night, late. He gave us some candy.”
“I saw him yesterday morning, right before he left,” proudly piped up the middle child. “Mama wasn’t even up. Ian said I was to be a good boy and he’d get me something special.”
Jamie looked around the room. Surely Ian didn’t have to sleep in this narrow bed with three other boys? There was no way they would all fit. And how did he do his schoolwork? Then he noticed in the corner a rolled-up mattress next to a crate that held books and neatly folded clothes, and he knew this was Ian’s corner.
How he must despise me for complaining all the time about having to sleep in the alcove of my mother’s room. No wonder he’s never invited me to come home with him. How can Kathleen let him stay here?
He went back to the next room, where Kathleen was in heated discussion with her aunt. He said, “The boys said they haven’t seen him since Friday morning. His schoolbooks and stuff are here. I didn’t try to wake the man.”
Kathleen turned to her aunt and said, “What man?”
“Frank.”
“Why’s he in the boys’ room? No, don’t bother, let me see,” Kathleen said. She pushed past Jamie, stopping with an oath when she banged up against the end of the boys’ bed. Then Jamie saw her go over and give her uncle a rough shake, which did nothing but make him snore even louder.
She came back into the kitchen and said, “He’s drunk, which doesn’t surprise me, but why isn’t he in your room? And where’s Ian been sleeping?”
“I had to rent out the other room. Ian’s fine. He sleeps on the floor, when he’s here.”
“That doesn’t make any sense at all. Between what I give you, Frank’s wages, and what you bring in doing laundry, you shouldn’t need to take in boarders, much less expect Ian to hand over his newspaper earnings. What’s going on?”
Kathleen’s aunt turned away angrily and poked again at the tub. Then Jamie saw her shoulders hunch, and she muttered, “Frank lost his job. Been dead drunk for the past month. Without your brother’s newspaper money, we’ll all be on the street.”
“Ian won’t, because he’s not going to live with you another day. And if you don’t have any idea where he is, I’ve got to be going. I’ll send for his stuff later.”
“No, you can’t mean that! You can’t put your little cousins out on the street.”
“Aunt Fiona, if Uncle Frank wants to drink himself to death, like my father, then take your children and leave him. Ask your older sons for help, or Uncle George or Uncle Sean. If none of them will help, go to the Sisters.”
“You’re heartless, you are. I raised your brother like he was my own son, now you take him away when he’s finally of use. Frank will have something to say about that, you better believe it.”
Jamie was shocked at the anger in the woman’s voice.
Kathleen turned away from her aunt and put her hand on Jamie’s back, urging him out into the hallway. He could feel her trembling but wasn’t sure if it was from fear or fury, until she said, over her shoulder, “Aunt, you better hope nothing bad’s happened to Ian, or eviction will be the least of your worries. Now Jamie, let’s go find my brother; there’s nothing more for us here.”