New York City
March 1848
THAT LONG, FREEZING FIRST WINTER IN NEW YORK WAS THE WORST, FOR John earned little and they had not even a proper fire or stove to warm them. In early spring, as the snow melted, a lad who worked on Pat’s building, hulking bricks and materials, injured himself. He broke his shoulder and arm badly and was no longer fit for work.
‘One man’s bad luck is another’s good luck!’ observed Pat as he sent John to talk to the building foreman.
‘He offered me the job,’ John reported with delight after his brief interview. ‘I start tomorrow.’
‘I told you that Jerome Daly would change his tune mighty fast.’ Pat laughed. ‘And he’s glad to hire you.’
In his new job, John disappeared early in the morning and returned home exhausted, but was glad to have found a position that paid decent wages.
‘At least here we can afford to pay rent, buy food and some of the things we need,’ he said proudly.
Pat also found a job for young Jude. The nearby printing factory was looking for an apprentice who was ready to learn and not afraid of hard work. Jude, in his own quiet way, was exactly what they wanted. He was turning into a fine young man and was very like Mary’s late sister.
‘Your mam would be proud of you,’ she said, hugging him close.
Mary had struck up a growing friendship with Catherine Ryan, who would give her honest advice on where to go and what to do.
‘I hear there are rooms coming up to rent in a house on Mulberry Street,’ she tipped off Mary one day. ‘The people renting them are moving out west.’
Immediately, Mary and John arranged to go and see them. The lodgings were on the second floor of a four-storey house and were made up of three rather cramped rooms, one of which was a kitchen with a small stove. In all, there were ten families living in the building.
‘Oh, John, it’s so much better than where we are,’ Mary enthused, noting the way the sun streamed in through the windows, and the neat back yard with a water closet.
‘It will cost us more,’ John fretted, ‘but to be honest, I don’t know if I could face another winter where we are.’
The sun was warm in the sky when they packed up their few belongings and, with a small handcart, moved from the dank basement to their new rented home. Mrs Beatty watched from the door with a face like thunder, for she had been most put out when they had told her they were leaving.
‘Mrs Sullivan, you might regret leaving this establishment,’ she cajoled. ‘As I may have two better rooms to let in a month or so.’
Mary certainly didn’t have any regrets, though, and was in no way sad to say goodbye to Mrs Beatty’s establishment on Orange Street.
‘That old rip will soon find two other greenhorns off the ships to take our place!’ shrugged John as they moved to Mulberry Street.
Annie, Nora and Sarah ran around their new home, delighted as Mary hung a curtain to divide into two the bedroom they were to share with the boys. There was a bed for them on one side, and a mattress on the other.
‘Uncle Pat and I will make bunks for you boys when we can afford it,’ promised John.
As she looked around their new home, Mary hoped that they and the children would find happiness there.
Each week, at Sunday mass at the Immigrants’ Church, Mary prayed for Con. Not a day went by when she didn’t think of and miss him. She asked the Lord to help her family get used to their new life and to look after the hungry and sick who were suffering back in Skibbereen. Afterwards, as the children ran and played and chased each other in the newly opened Madison Square Park, she and John walked arm in arm like two sweethearts.