Chapter 5 Broken Promises
Jim sat at the kitchen table reading out President Franklin Delano
Roosevelt's speech from the newspaper. He tried to find hope in
the President's words. According to Roosevelt, there was only one
thing for Americans to fear—"fear itself." Mae counted out coins
from the rainy-day jar.
Jim's week had become an unending string of gray mornings
and sweaty afternoons of hard work at the docks. Jim and Mike
worked together every day, and Jim did all the work with his left
hand. In the evenings, he had another job—more long, hard work
with only his left hand. Mae was usually asleep on the sofa by the
time Jim got home at night.
That night she was woken by the sound of coins dropping into
the jar. She saw her husband walk toward their bed.
Jim looked down at the clean, white sheets. He wanted nothing
more than to fall into them, but then he looked down at his own
dirty, sweaty body, and lay down on the floor.
"Jimmy," Mae whispered. "We can wash the sheets."
But Jim was already asleep. Mae pulled the covers off the bed
and lay down on the floor, beside her husband.
•
The winter of 1933—34 was one of the coldest in recent memory.
One morning, Mae and Rosy walked with the boys to school.
They were walking back down the snowy street when Mae saw a
shiny new car outside their building.
"Mommy, who's the man at our house?" asked Rosy.
Mae walked up to the man, whose uniform showed that he was
the gas and electricity man. "Can I help you, sir?"
"I'm sorry, ma'am. You haven't paid the bills, and I have to cut
your electricity off."
The man was in his thirties, but his eyes looked older.
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"You can't," said Mae. "We have kids. Please."
"If I don't, I'll lose my job," said the man sadly.
Work at the docks finished early that day. Jim and his work
partner Mike started walking around local towns, looking for
work. There was none anywhere that day. Tired and cold, they
started for home.
"We have until tomorrow," cried a loud voice.
Jim's steps slowed. Across the street, a young man was arguing
with two city police officers. His wife stood beside him, fighting
back tears. The couple's furniture was on the sidewalk all around
them. The officers were moving them from their apartment.
The two officers wore fine, new uniforms. The younger of the
two was polite. The older man had heard every excuse before, and
he was tired of listening.
Jim watched as the young husband tried to pull a piece of paper
out of the officer's hand.
"This says we have another day," he cried.
"Come on," said Mike, pulling Jim's arm. But Jim was already
moving across the street and Mike went with him.
"You can't do this," the young woman was saying. "We'll never
get back in."
Her husband jumped in front of the officers as they moved to
fit a new lock to the building's front door. "Please, I'm starting a
factory job next week . . ."
The officers pushed him away and put the lock on.
"Excuse me," said Mike politely, then louder:"Excuse me!"The
officers stared at him. "Please can I have a look at that notice? The
law says that I'm allowed to." He stepped forward. "Let me just
have a look at the date on it. If everything's OK with it, we'll just
walk away."
"Or else what?" demanded the younger officer. The older
officer was looking at Jim.
Mike smiled. "You guys know Jim Braddock, don't you?"
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The older officer's attitude changed immediately. "I've seen you
fight, Jim," he said.
Mike looked down at the document in the older man's hand.
"What do you say, guys? Mistakes happen all the time."
The officer nodded. "Maybe we got our days mixed up," he
said, removing the lock from the door.
As the two officers walked away, Mike and Jim began to help
the couple move their furniture back inside.
"So you're a lawyer?" asked Jim.
Mike shook his head. "A banker, but I hired enough lawyers to
have a good idea of the law. It doesn't matter now . . . I lost it all
in '29." He looked Jim in the eyes. "You know, there are people
living in Central Park. The government has failed us. We need to
organize. Fight back."
Jim shook his head. "Fight what? Bad luck? You have to trust
that the government will solve things in the end. I like what
President Roosevelt says."
"Forget Roosevelt!" shouted Mike. "He hasn't given me my
house back yet!"
Jim looked in surprise at the terrible anger in his friend's eyes.
•
The blanket didn't hang in the middle of the room. Now the
three children had it around them, as they lay in bed. Jim could
see their breath in the cold air. Every piece of clothing in the
apartment was piled on top of them.
He crossed the room and threw a piece of a wooden sign onto
the fire in the stove. Mae emptied the rainy-day jar onto the table..
She began to push the coins around.
"Six dollars and seventy cents," said Jim, joining his wife. "How
much would it cost to turn the electricity back on?"
Thirty-three dollars and ten cents," whispered Mae.
If I work twenty-six hours out of every twenty-four, it still
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won't be enough." Jim seemed suddenly weaker. He looked at
Mae. "Think of all the other guys who wanted to marry you."
"What happened to those guys?" joked Mae, then she squeezed
his hand. "I married the guy I love."
A wet cough from across the room interrupted them. "It's
Howard," said Mae sadly. "He's been sick since this afternoon."
When Mae woke up the next morning, Jim had already gone
out into the terrible cold. She spent the morning trying to keep
the children warm, burning pieces of wood they had taken from
signs in the street. Howard lay close to the stove, his face red with
fever. Fighting back the tears, his mother held a glass of water to
his lips. The boy was getting sicker.
Not wanting her children to see her cry, Mae rushed out the
door and stood in the snow. Bitter tears ran down her face.
She cared only about keeping this family together. Jim was
killing himself trying to do this, but it wasn't working. Now they
had lost their heat and electric power. Mae knew what she had
to do. She rushed inside to dress her children warmly for the trip
across the river to New York City.
•
As Jim stepped through the door, the apartment was as cold as the
air outside. He met silence. No little bodies ran to him with open
arms. By the stove, Mae sat alone, staring into the dying flames.
She couldn't meet his eyes.
"Howard was getting worse," she explained. "Then Rosy
started to get sick."
"Where are they, Mae?"
"The boys are at my father's house. Rosy's going to stay with
my sister. We can't keep them warm, Jim."
Jim's emotions were almost too strong for words—fear, sadness,
anger. He pointed a finger at Mae. "You don't decide what
happens to our children without me."
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