Sadie Pulaski, continued

The funniest thing is that I actually had conversations over the weekend with Jean and with Beth about the adventures of poor little Sadie (the heroine of my novel that I wrote at the age of 10). Jean said at one point, “It’s riveting!” I just read the next chapter in the saga, and it is far too long to post in one fell swoop – but boy oh boy was I turning up the heat on this poor Polish family. They can’t cut a break.

As followers of my story may recall, Sadie and her brother Stanislaus have been forced to leave school because, uhm, the “rates” are too high. (Please remember. I was 12.) The family lives on a diet of stolen lettuce and skim milk.

Let’s see what happens next. The chapter title says it all.

One thing: I grew up in Rhode Island. The big town where I lived was, once upon a time, a mill town. The industrial revolution, starting back in the 1700s, was big in Rhode Island – and many a school field trip would involve going to these old mills (some of which have been turned into museums) and learning about them. I can feel that a lot of my information here is from those field trips, and the sad pictures of little pipsqueaks working at the factory.

IV. THINGS GET WORSE

For the next few weeks Sadie’s days went pretty much the same. She did her chores, studied and went to bed. Sadie tried to make the best of it but she was bored to the teeth. And conditions in her father’s shop were getting no better. He was falling behind in the rent, and couldn’t afford to buy that many products and his customer rate dropped lower than before.

Meals were scarcer and scarcer and sometimes there just was no food to be had, so there were no meals. Sadie grew thin and pale, her eyes began to look big, haunted, hollow, and after some strenuous chore she would feel dizzy and tired. It was the same with Stanislaus and her parents. Sadie was not her same bubbly self. She just didn’t have anything to laugh about anymore.

Then one day, the worst thing that could have happened happened. Papa’s store closed down. And with the rent coming up, where would the money come from? Papa desperately started to look for work but it was hard. No jobs seemed to be open. Stanislaus, after a lot of arguing and discussing, started to look for a job too. When Sadie heard that Stanislaus was trying to help in this desperate situation she wanted to work, too. At first her parents wouldn’t consider it, but she finally convinced them that if she did get a job, she could really help out in the rent. Strangely enough, Sadie found a job almost immediately. A textile mill needed a whole new batch of children because so many were immigrating to America. Sadie was walking past the factory gates one drizzly afternoon and she saw a whole crowd of children crowded against the iron gates. Curious, she joined them, pushing her way up front to have a better view.

A big muscular man with a thin mustache and cold grey eyes walked out of the factory and strode toward them. Something about him made Sadie shiver.

He surveyed the little dirty children. Everyone was quiet. It seemed an eternity until the man spoke. His voice was loud and harsh, he seemed to bite each word.

“We need small kids to sweep the aisles, strong kids to take the material and put it in barrels, and kids to thread the spools. You will do as you are told. No funny business. All right now. I’ll take all the kids here with last names between A and L.” Sadie gulped and stiffened up. She began to think rapidly of how to get herself a job here. Unfortunately, the man called on her first.

“Kid, what’s your name?”

Sadie stuttered out, quickly and desperately thinking of a last name, “Uh – well – my name is – uh – Sadie Frowne.”

“All right. You got a job.”

Sadie relaxed and wiped the sweat off of her forehead. After 20 kids had been chosen, the man dismissed the remaining children, ignoring their cries of disappointment and their wails of helplessness. The man opened the gates and led the children up to the big, grey factory with only a few windows that were so dusty that nothing could be seen through them.

The man opened the doors, led the children down a dank, stuffy hallway and stopped at the grey metal door situated at the end. He put his hands on his hips and faced the children. After looking them over again for a long time he said, “I’m picking jobs and if I hear one complaint I’ll give you a smack and send you right on home. Understand?”

Everyone nodded. Sadie was beginning to feel some regret at changing her name from Pulaski to Frowne. She was terrified of the man and she could tell he meant what he said. She cringed at the thought of him whacking that big heavy hand across her head.

Again, the man looked at Sadie first. “Since you’re so puny, you will brush the aisles clean of all wool and cloth and thread.”

Sadie nodded. That didn’t sound too hard. Six other little children were chosen to sweep, too. Then, big strong kids were selected to carry the enormous loads of fabrics down the stairs and into the basement where they were put in barrels ready for shipping. The rest were given the jobs of working at the machines: threading the spools, cleaning the machinery, combing the strands and many other jobs. When Sadie heard of all of the hideous tasks that were given out, she thought that she got it pretty easy.

But when the man opened the heavy door to the factory, she changed her mind. Row upon row of deafening machines with tiny little children in front of them, doing jobs that were meant for adults. The air was dirty; when Sadie breathed she could feel the cotton lint, and dirt in the air. It was dim and musty and there were only 3 slits letting in light.

A little boy who looked around six years old walked by, holding an enormous bundle of fabric and material in a heavy leather bag. It was so big that the boys arms could not fit all the way around and his thin clawlike fingers clutched at the bag to keep it from dropping. A little blonde girl who was threading spool after spool stopped for a minute, bent over, spat and coughed, again and again. Her face grew beet-red and she couldn’t stop. A matron came over, gave her a slap, and demanded her to continue working. Still coughing and spitting, the girl turned back to her hideous job. A small screech was heard from the other side of the machine. Someone was hurt. And the great looming machines did look dangerous. Sadie was scared to death. She had never been so terrified in her life. Why did she have to have changed her name from Pulaski to Frowne? She would rather starve than watch little kids be tortured, herself included, and to shrivel away to a little thin robot, mechanically doing her job day after day, in a dark filthy loud cave with all sorts of hazards. And also, the big man who had hired her would obviously be no comfort to the situation.

Sadie glanced fearfully around at the other children and saw that they, too, were staring around them in horror.

The man yelled in his booming voice for a matron to come over. One did, and she was a tall regal woman with black hair yanked away from her face into a tihgt bun at the nape of her neck. Her dress was grey and dirty from all the things in the air and there was a slight faded trace of blue pinstripes. Her shoes were black and had a pointed toe and a firm stacked heel.

“Yes, sir?” she yelled above the roaring of the machines.

“These are the new batch. Sweepers, go with this lady.”

For a minute, Sadie was confused. She was just so dazed at seeing the horrible interior of the factory that at first she didn’t hear the man speak. When she did not move with the others, he gave her a hard shove on her shoulder and she almost fell over. She didn’t dare look into his cold, grey eyes.

She and the six other sweepers followed the matron to a damp corner with one chair and a row of hooks on the wall. Hung up here were many straggly brooms. The matron handed each of them a broom. The wooden handle was scratchy and Sadie felt splinters poke into her hand as she took it.

They followed the matron through a labyrinth of machines until she stopped at the head of the whole room. In front of them were six dirty machines with dust, lint and cotton littering the aisles between them.

Before the matron assigned them aisles, she gathered them all around her. Her face was pleasant and she even wore a bit of a smile.

“Now, listen,” she said seriously. “I know this job will be tough on you and you won’t have any fun doing it. I’ll do my best to see that you are unharmed. Now, the man who brought you here: I must warn you that he is a cruel man. He will not hesitate to harm a child. Please – just stay out of his way and just do as he says. If you are in trouble, come to me, and I’ll see if I can help you. All right? You may call me Matron Brown. Now, you –” She pointed to a boy Sadie’s height with a beige cap, checked shirt and dark brown suspenders. His shoes were just bits of cloth tied around his feet. His face was nice, however, and his grin was full of spunk. The matron continued. “What is your name?”

“John Kosnoski,” he said.

“Well, John, take the first aisle.”

John glanced at the other kids and his eyes met Sadie’s. He grinned and she smiled back. Sadie’s heart speeded up a little. Do I like him? she asked herself. No, don’t be silly. Mama always says I’m too young for such nonsense. But Sadie still wondered.

Sadie was assigned Aisle 2. John had already started to sweep away the piles of cotton and dirt with much vigor. Sadie admired his spirit and she began to sweep earnestly also.

As the hours dragged by, Sadie grew exhausted and sweeping the aisles was a tedious job. The lint got caught in her eyes, her eyelashes already felt heavy with it, and her throat was parched and scratchy. Every 5 minutes she had to cough and spit, to try to get the terrible feeling out of her mouth. Once, she met John at the end of the aisle. He looked run-down and had to lean on his broom for support. He couldn’t even manage a smile.

“This is terrible, huh?” he breathed, spitting on the floor.

Sadie nodded. “I feel so scratchy and my throat! Just think – we have to come here every day now from 6:00 am to 6:00 pm. I can’t bear it!” She covered her face, but she didn’t cry. She just felt so tired.

John reached out and touched her shoulder. “Hey, come on. If you work here, then you might be able to leave for America or Australia, huh? My family will be.”

Sadie looked up. “Really?” She glanced around guiltily at the panting filthy kids working about them. She looked back at John. “We’d better get back to work or we’ll get in trouble.”

John nodded. Sadie, with a sigh, turned back to her aisle. Just as she did this, a piercing whistle cut through the air. It startled Sadie so much that she dropped her broom. She saw that the other children were leaving. Never remembering feeling so relieved, Sadie realized that it was 6:00 pm. She and many other sweepers hung up their brooms and filed out of the factory, some with big bundles of fabric on their backs. When Sadie stepped outside, she felt a shower of rain on her head. She glanced up at the overcast sky and saw heavy, dark thunderheads gathering above. Rain was pouring down quite heavily now but Sadie didn’t care. It felt good on her aching muscles and her dry skin.

She tripped down the factory walkway, among the many other children, some who talked, but most who remained in gloomy silence. Once Sadie was outside the gate, she stood on the sidewalk, face thrown back, letting the raindrops run down her cheeks. Eyes closed, she loved the feeling of it.