The Immigrants (11 page)

“They don’t like me.”

“‘Granddad worked in the placer mines, Daddy’s on Nob Hill.

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If it weren’t for Sutter and Sutter’s gold, I’d still be sucking swill.’ I learned that when I was five. It used to enrage Mother. She’s from Boston. The fact is that you are the envy of every woman in the room. I love your dinner jacket.”

“We got the loan, Jean. Mark Levy and I are buying the
Oregon
Queen
. We’ve been fighting over the price with Swenson for two weeks and now we made the deal. It’s just the beginning. I swear to you, it’s just the begin ning.” He took her in his arms.

“Danny, someone will see us.”

“To hell with them!”

When Dan left—the party still in progress—Jean went directly to her room, and it occurred to her that one way to deal with this would be to go to bed and turn off the lights and give her parents until morning to cool off. But she was too stimulated, too alive, too excited to go to sleep or to lie in the dark and pretend she was asleep, as she had done so often as a little girl. Indeed, a part of her wanted the encounter and looked forward to it. She changed into a dressing gown of pale blue velvet and Alençon ruffled lace, picked up her copy of
Vanity Fair
, stretched out on her chaise, and waited. She tried to read, but the words were meaningless, and she let herself float into fantasy. It was about an hour later that they knocked at the door.

“Come in. I’m awake,” Jean said.

Her mother entered, followed by her father. He tem porized immediately. “I think this should wait for the morning, Mary.”

“I don’t,” his wife said.

“I don’t know what all the fuss is about,” Jean said mildly. “You gave a party. I invited a friend. I’ve done that before.”

“I told you I did not want him in this house,” her mother said icily.

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“I thought it was my home too. Or was I mistaken?”

“For heaven’s sake, Mary,” Seldon said, “he came here first as my guest. If Jean took a fancy to him, it’s my fault.” And to Jean, “All the same, you showed poor judgment asking him here.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like the idea of your going with a man like Lavette. There are enough decent boys of de cent families.”

“You said it.” Jean smiled. “They’re boys. He’s a man.”

“He is nobody,” her mother said. “Your father looked into his background. His folks were Italian im migrants. He has no family, no education, and no position. He lives in a shack on the waterfront, and he is certainly the last person in the world for you to spend your time with.”

“His father was French,” Jean said calmly, “if that makes any difference. And he’s better educated and better read than half the people downstairs tonight. He’s kind and generous, and he loves me.”

“Oh? And just what do you feel about him?” Seldon asked.

“I love him and I intend to marry him.”

“You are quite mad!” her mother exclaimed. “The whole thing is insane! You’re talking like a child.”

“I am not a child, and I will not be treated like a child. I am almost twenty-one.”

“Jean, dear,” Seldon said quietly, “your mother is surprised and upset. It’s late, and I don’t think this kind of an argument will get us anywhere. I suggest we all sleep on it.” He fairly dragged his wife out of the room, and once in their own bedroom, he said to her, “That was the worst thing you could have said.”

“And what did you say?”

“There is nothing I could say tonight, because she’s right. She’s been running around with kids. That’s a man.”

Mary dropped into a chair and stared bleakly at her husband. “I will not have it.”

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“She’ll be of age, and if that’s what she wants, we’ll have it, whether we like it or not. I have one child, and I will not disown her or drive her out of the house.”

“You could stop it.”

“How?”

“Buy him off. Give him money.”

Seldon shook his head.

“Don’t just shake your head at me.”

“My dear Mary, your daughter’s a better judge of men than you are. You don’t buy him off. I had a talk with him before he left tonight. I told him that he could have the loan he wanted, and in return I’d expect an end to his attentions to my daughter.”

“What did he say?”

“He just looked at me at first. I would not want to have that kid as an enemy. Then he smiled and said that considering both our positions, he had no intention of responding with anger.”

“And just what did he mean by that?”

“He said he didn’t give a damn about my money, but he cared a great deal about my daughter.”

“And her money, I assure you.”

“I don’t think so. I really don’t think so, Mary.” He took off his jacket and pulled at his tie. “I don’t know what we can do about it,” he said slowly. “I have a feeling that Dan Lavette will get what he wants.”

“What are you telling me—that my daughter will marry a Catholic and that there’s nothing I can do about it?”

“Now hold on. We haven’t come to that yet.”

“And when we do come to it, Thomas?”

“We’ll cross that bridge then.”

“You’re not listening. You didn’t hear a word I said. The man’s nobody, an Italian fisherman and a Catholic. Have you ever thought about Catholics, Thomas? Have you?”

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“I’ve thought about them.”

“Have you? Have you indeed? Do you know what they are? My father would turn over in his grave at the thought. I will not have my daughter thrown to the dogs!”

“Mary, I’m tired. Too tired to go on with this. Let’s sleep on it.”

“She doesn’t know her own mind. Her head is spin ning, and she’s infatuated with that hoodlum. I think she ought to go away for a while.”

“Don’t misjudge her either,” Seldon said wearily. “She will do as she pleases. Our daughter is quite a woman.”

The
Oregon Queen
was berthed at Hunter’s Point, and it was Anthony Cassala who decided that the signing of the final papers should take place on the ship. Swenson, a tall, sour-visaged man of seventy-six years who had the reputation of never having been known to smile, agreed reluctantly. Maria Cassala prepared two enor mous baskets stuffed with red wine, fresh bread, salami, ham, red peppers, cheese, and fruit. The two Cassala children, Stephan, a dark-skinned, serious boy of fif teen, and Rosa, approaching her fourteenth birthday and already in the full bloom of womanhood, her breasts round and ripe and enticing, were dressed in their Sunday best. Anthony hired a carriage, and the family drove from their home on Folsom Street to the berth at Hunter’s Point. Maria, still overcome by fits of grief for the stillborn child, had fantasied a situation where eventually Dan would marry her daughter, Rosa.

She had the firm conviction that the best marriages were arranged, and even though her husband became irritated when she tried to discuss this with him, she felt that Dan would understand and she was determined to bring up the subject today.

When they reached the
Oregon Queen
, the others were already

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present, with the exception of Sam Gold berg. He arrived a few minutes later, a fat man who puffed his way up the ladder from the dock. Mark and Sarah Levy, in an equally festive mood, had brought their kids with them, and their son, Jacob, eleven years old, long-legged and as blond and blue-eyed as his mother, was already scrambling in the rigging with Clair Harvey, oblivious to his mother’s pleas. Jack Harvey had cleaned the deck and hosed it down and brought out chairs from the cabin. He spread the white cloth Maria Cassala provided on the hatch cover and helped her empty the baskets, smacking his lips over the food and showering her with compliments. Dan, wearing his hun dred-dollar made-to-order suit, was being assured by Mark Levy that he had been swindled and that a suit of equal excellence could be made for forty dollars. Even Feng Wo was present, in a new black business suit—six dollars ready-made—with a briefcase full of papers.

“You’ll stay and have some lunch with us, Mr. Swen son,” Mark said to the tall, cadaverous Swede.

“I got delicate stomach,” Swenson replied, eyeing the food dubiously. “This is damn good ship,” he said to Dan. “You got good buy, young fellow. I am sick of ship—just too goddamn old for ships. But you got good buy.”

“I’ll be as kind and gentle to her as if she was my mother,”

Dan said.

“Don’t like yokes about ship.”

Anthony Cassala joined them and said that the pa pers were ready.

Goldberg nodded, regarding the rusty ship unhappily. Swenson was studying Dan thought fully.

“You a hard worker?” he asked.

“Me and Mark here,” Dan replied. “We’re the hard est workers you ever saw.”

“So don’t be young snotnose with me. I like serious boys. I like you, maybe. I tell you something. I got two steam schooners,

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wooden ships, six hundred tons each, and contract with City of Oakland hauling garbage. I pick up garbage and dump it at sea, and I got contract price eighty-five cents a ton. I’m sick and tired of whole lousy business, and I think I move to Los Angeles, live with my sister. Ships worth fifty thousand dollars each, I sell you both ships for price of one, fifty thousand, and throw in contract. You make twenty thousand dollars’ profit first year.”

“Garbage?”

“You think it stinks, huh? It stinks with money.”

“It sounds good, Mr. Swenson,” Mark said. “But we don’t have that kind of money.”

“Cash. You want fifty thousand cash?” Dan asked.

“Hell, no. You give me ten thousand cash and notes. You pay me ten thousand a year—you still got good profit.”

Dan turned to Cassala, who shook his head. “Too big, Danny— too much.”

“Hell, price ain’t too much!” Swenson snorted.

“The job is.”

“What’s the crew?” Dan asked.

“Twelve men on each ship.”

“Christ,” Levy whispered to him, “we miss one pay roll, and we’re out of business.”

“But we make it, and we got the goddamndest busi ness on this waterfront.”

“In time, Danny,” Cassala said. “Go slow.”

“Just don’t go away, Mr. Swenson. Let me talk to Mr. Cassala about this. Have some wine and cheese and ham.” He drew Mark and Cassala aside. “Tony—we can’t pass this up. Tony, we can’t.”

“You never even see the ships, Danny.”

“I know the ships. I seen them. I tell you, Tony, this crazy Swede is giving them away.”

“What do you think, Mark?”

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“I think we can do it. I don’t know—garbage. I never thought of anything like garbage. But I think we can do it.”

Goldberg was unenthusiastic; he disliked ships, felt uncomfortable about them. He insisted that there was a difference between a mortgage on a ship and a mort gage on a piece of real estate. Mark argued that if a ship were insured, there was no damn difference what soever. They argued about it, and then marched over to where Swenson was munching cheese and drinking wine and began to question him.

Dan beckoned for Feng Wo. “Get out that Chinee harp of yours!”

Feng Wo took his abacus out of the briefcase, and as Dan threw figures, interest rates, and percentage points at him—eighty-five cents times twelve hundred times three hundred and sixty-five—he shuffled the little black and white beads marvelously, jotting down the results on a pad.

The others watched in awe. The children gathered around Feng Wo, and Maria poured wine and cut bread and cheese and meat and pleaded with them to eat. Swenson was taken with Maria. “You remind me of my Annie,” he said. “I like a strong woman.” Cassala and Goldberg went to the other side of the hatch to caucus and pore over the figures, and Maria, pressing a plate loaded with cheese and meat and red peppers on Dan, said to him, in her soft, southern Italian, “Just look at my Rosa, Danny—so sweet, so gentle, so willing. She will make a wonderful wife for a wonderful man.”

“I’m sure she will. She’s a good girl,” Dan said, and then for the life of her, Maria could not think of another thing to say. It was the way Dan spoke, not even looking up from the figures he was studying.

He asked Feng Wo, “What do you think, Feng? Are we crazy?”

“I think it’s a remarkable opportunity.”

“Could you handle it?”

“I could handle it.”

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“All right. If Tony agrees and we’re in garbage as well as lumber and fish, your wages go up. Eighteen dollars a week, starting Monday.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lavette,” Feng Wo said.

Cassala called them. “Danny, Mark, come over here.” The tone of his voice spoke of decision. Mark and Dan walked over to join him and Goldberg. The two women stared at the little cluster of men. Jack Harvey, as fascinated by the abacus as the children were, was disappointed when Feng Wo put it back in his briefcase to turn and wait for his fate to be decided. Only Swenson, apparently indifferent, continued to eat and admire Maria.

“Danny, Mark,” Cassala said, “we make the deci sion. You buy the garbage boats. Goldberg works out the mortgage, overriding on the whole thing, and we give you one hundred thousand dollars line of credit. You no pay interest, only on what you draw—six per cent.”

“The line of credit remains in force,” Goldberg added. “You understand, this is not a loan but a stand ing credit situation that can be canceled without penalty by ninety days’ notice on the part of either party. It is backed by an overriding mortgage on your entire opera tion, and we will require monthly statements of your cash position. We include the Levy property, the Lavette property, the fishing boats, this ship, and the two garbage ships—in other words, the total assets of the partnership. You pay interest only on what you draw from your line of credit. There’s no other bank in the city that would do this for less than eight percent, but Mr. Cassala’s the boss. I’ll draw up the paper next week.”

There was a long moment of silence, then Mark said to Dan, “Well, Danny, we got a tiger by the tail, haven’t we?”