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Authors: Susan Denning
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stood
behind Papa Nolan. She rested her chin on his head and wrapped her arms around
his neck, “Don’t worry, Papa.”
His head fell
and his chin landed on her forearm. A tear splashed against her flesh. She
rubbed her cheek on his thin hair and soothed, “I’ll find a way to take care of
myself.”
Aislynn
approached the first home on Madison Avenue displaying a sign advertising
employment. She rang the front bell. The door opened to a world of dark wood
lining the walls and twisting up a broad staircase. When she asked about the
position, the maid said, “Go to the back,” and slammed the door.
Aislynn trudged
to the back door, and the same maid opened it. She entered to a large green
kitchen. A counter ran around the room under huge cabinets hanging high on the
walls. Two Negro women chopping vegetables stopped their conversation and
looked up at Aislynn. The older one asked Aislynn if she had ever worked in a
kitchen before.
“I cook for my
family.”
“Dis here’s
different. You gots to know food. We gots some fine folks comin’ here to eat,
and we gots to serve fine food. Now, you knowed what a consumay is?”
Aislynn shook
her head.
“What ‘bout
galettes?”
Aislynn shook
her head again.
“Ain’t no sense
sendin’ you to the lady of da house. She ain’t gonna take you.”
Aislynn moved
on. She thought she could find work as a governess but discovered a governess
needed to know more than history, literature and mathematics. They were
supposed to be masters of etiquette. Aislynn felt she had fine manners, but
several interviews revealed she lacked the knowledge wealthy young ladies
required. She could not succeed as an upstairs maid, because she did not know
the difference between a sham and a pillowcase. A downstairs maid needed to be
familiar with a wide array of glasses and various forms of silverware, information
Aislynn lacked.
As Aislynn
departed another disappointing interview, a small Negro woman pulled her aside
and said, “Da lady cross da way loss a girl yesterday. She throwed her out for
heavens only knows why. Run over and see if she take you on. Be jus’ cleanin’.”
Aislynn thanked
the woman for her kindness and approached the house. The four-story limestone
building had cast iron railings leading to the front door, but Aislynn scurried
to the back. While she waited for someone to answer her knock, she straightened
her hair and her coat. A man with an English accent led Aislynn through a long
narrow kitchen to the back parlor and ordered her to sit.
A frail,
long-faced woman entered the room. She wore a slim gray dress with a small
train. Aislynn rose and gave the woman a quick curtsy. After the woman took her
seat, Aislynn waited for instructions to sit. They did not come. Aislynn stood
looking down at the woman, answering questions about where she lived, why she
needed a job and references. References were a problem for Aislynn. She had a
nice note penned by her companion, but Mrs. Pearson was without connections and
unknown to Aislynn’s prospective employers.
“Well, I am
truly in need of cleaning help. We are entertaining this weekend, and I must
have this house immaculate. Now you understand it’s six days a week, and you
will have Sundays off. You will be given a bed in the attic with the other
girls and two meals a day. There is no pilfering of food. I will pay you seven
dollars a month and not a penny more.”
Aislynn beamed.
She folded her hands and brought them to her breast and thanked God and this
mousy little woman. In four days, she had to leave her apartment, and she had
no rent money to extend her stay even one more week. This job was a blessing.
She envisioned her parents watching over her as the parlor door opened, and a
portly, balding man entered the room.
“Herschel, I did
not hear you come in. Welcome home, dear.” The woman extended her hand to the
man who brushed past Aislynn.
“How are you
today, my pet?” the man asked with no
behind Papa Nolan. She rested her chin on his head and wrapped her arms around
his neck, “Don’t worry, Papa.”
His head fell
and his chin landed on her forearm. A tear splashed against her flesh. She
rubbed her cheek on his thin hair and soothed, “I’ll find a way to take care of
myself.”
Aislynn
approached the first home on Madison Avenue displaying a sign advertising
employment. She rang the front bell. The door opened to a world of dark wood
lining the walls and twisting up a broad staircase. When she asked about the
position, the maid said, “Go to the back,” and slammed the door.
Aislynn trudged
to the back door, and the same maid opened it. She entered to a large green
kitchen. A counter ran around the room under huge cabinets hanging high on the
walls. Two Negro women chopping vegetables stopped their conversation and
looked up at Aislynn. The older one asked Aislynn if she had ever worked in a
kitchen before.
“I cook for my
family.”
“Dis here’s
different. You gots to know food. We gots some fine folks comin’ here to eat,
and we gots to serve fine food. Now, you knowed what a consumay is?”
Aislynn shook
her head.
“What ‘bout
galettes?”
Aislynn shook
her head again.
“Ain’t no sense
sendin’ you to the lady of da house. She ain’t gonna take you.”
Aislynn moved
on. She thought she could find work as a governess but discovered a governess
needed to know more than history, literature and mathematics. They were
supposed to be masters of etiquette. Aislynn felt she had fine manners, but
several interviews revealed she lacked the knowledge wealthy young ladies
required. She could not succeed as an upstairs maid, because she did not know
the difference between a sham and a pillowcase. A downstairs maid needed to be
familiar with a wide array of glasses and various forms of silverware, information
Aislynn lacked.
As Aislynn
departed another disappointing interview, a small Negro woman pulled her aside
and said, “Da lady cross da way loss a girl yesterday. She throwed her out for
heavens only knows why. Run over and see if she take you on. Be jus’ cleanin’.”
Aislynn thanked
the woman for her kindness and approached the house. The four-story limestone
building had cast iron railings leading to the front door, but Aislynn scurried
to the back. While she waited for someone to answer her knock, she straightened
her hair and her coat. A man with an English accent led Aislynn through a long
narrow kitchen to the back parlor and ordered her to sit.
A frail,
long-faced woman entered the room. She wore a slim gray dress with a small
train. Aislynn rose and gave the woman a quick curtsy. After the woman took her
seat, Aislynn waited for instructions to sit. They did not come. Aislynn stood
looking down at the woman, answering questions about where she lived, why she
needed a job and references. References were a problem for Aislynn. She had a
nice note penned by her companion, but Mrs. Pearson was without connections and
unknown to Aislynn’s prospective employers.
“Well, I am
truly in need of cleaning help. We are entertaining this weekend, and I must
have this house immaculate. Now you understand it’s six days a week, and you
will have Sundays off. You will be given a bed in the attic with the other
girls and two meals a day. There is no pilfering of food. I will pay you seven
dollars a month and not a penny more.”
Aislynn beamed.
She folded her hands and brought them to her breast and thanked God and this
mousy little woman. In four days, she had to leave her apartment, and she had
no rent money to extend her stay even one more week. This job was a blessing.
She envisioned her parents watching over her as the parlor door opened, and a
portly, balding man entered the room.
“Herschel, I did
not hear you come in. Welcome home, dear.” The woman extended her hand to the
man who brushed past Aislynn.
“How are you
today, my pet?” the man asked with no
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