Read Online The King of Mulberry Street by Donna Jo Napoli - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Donna Jo Napoli
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that door you get a physical inspection …”
Giosè cut in, “No one's going to let you onto the streets of New York alone. A boy your age needs a family or a
padrone
.”
“
Padroni
are illegal,” I said defiantly. I could find a policeman and tell him all about the money Giosè took from the “uncles.” I could, if I knew where a policeman was. And if a policeman would listen to me. And if he spoke Napoletano. Suddenly it all felt so hard.
“Lots of things are illegal,” said Giosè calmly. “The
padroni
have been running the show for years.”
“I don't want a
padrone
.”
“I don't blame you,” said the German translator. “So that means you need a family.”
“Change his name to di Napoli,” said Giosè, “like I said. The translator in the third line, the one who knows almost no Italian, wrote in di Napoli for at least four men today whose last names he couldn't spell. The kid can try to find one of them and latch on.”
The German translator picked up his pen.
“No,” I said. “I'll stay Napoli. Napoli, Dom.”
“All right, then, kid. It's your life. You'll go it alone. If you act smart, you've got a chance. Others your age have done it.” He filled out my form.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “Why are you writing without asking me anything?”
“The whole thing's a lie anyway,” said the German translator. “But it's the only way you'll get into Manhattan.”
“What's Manhattan?”
“The main part of New York City. Where the big buildings are.”
“I don't want to go to New York City,” I said. “I want to go to Napoli.”
“No one's going to pay your fare back, boy,” Giosè said. “It's New York City or an orphanage—your choice.”
Orphanages. We had them in Napoli; the nuns ran them. Children who had no one in the world lived there in misery. I saw myself in ragged clothing, covering my ears against Catholic preaching, alone forever. “No.”
One of the nurses who had tested me earlier appeared, shaking her head and scolding the men. She grabbed my hand and pulled me away.
Something tugged at the back of my waistband. I felt behind with my hand. Someone had tucked folded sheets of paper into my pants. I quickly jammed them in my pocket.
CHAPTER TEN
Needs
The nurse took me to benches at long tables, where tired people sat. Many had chalk marks on their jackets. She tapped on shoulders, getting everyone to look at me. When no one claimed me, she gestured for me to sit and she marked with chalk on the back of my shirt. I could feel her write a giant
O
.
Every so often, a nurse came up and led someone down the hall to the left. But mostly, we waited. A man pushed a metal cart between the tables and gave crackers to everyone and warm milk to the children. It tasted funny, but I drank it.
Some of us were herded upstairs to dormitory rooms. Triple-decker beds pushed against each other in pairs. I was put in the room with the women and children. We were told to leave our things and come down in two hours to eat. In the meantimewe should line up for washing. Mothers stripped their children.
I wasn't about to undress, so I had to find a way to avoid the washing. And I wanted to look at that paper in my pocket.
I went to the bathroom, but women crowded around it. I headed for the stairs down to the bathroom I'd used during the day.
An Italian woman stood in my path arguing with a woman in uniform. “I paid my passage.”
“But you came alone,” said the official. “And no man is waiting for you.”
“See these hands?” The Italian woman held up red hands. “I did laundry night and day to get here.”
“Unescorted women are not allowed off Ellis Island. It doesn't matter how many people you argue with, that's the rule. We'll have to contact an immigrant aid society to come get you.”
“No charity home. I take care of myself. I have money.”
“Don't say it too loud,” said the official, “or you soon won't.” She fingered the keys that hung
Giosè cut in, “No one's going to let you onto the streets of New York alone. A boy your age needs a family or a
padrone
.”
“
Padroni
are illegal,” I said defiantly. I could find a policeman and tell him all about the money Giosè took from the “uncles.” I could, if I knew where a policeman was. And if a policeman would listen to me. And if he spoke Napoletano. Suddenly it all felt so hard.
“Lots of things are illegal,” said Giosè calmly. “The
padroni
have been running the show for years.”
“I don't want a
padrone
.”
“I don't blame you,” said the German translator. “So that means you need a family.”
“Change his name to di Napoli,” said Giosè, “like I said. The translator in the third line, the one who knows almost no Italian, wrote in di Napoli for at least four men today whose last names he couldn't spell. The kid can try to find one of them and latch on.”
The German translator picked up his pen.
“No,” I said. “I'll stay Napoli. Napoli, Dom.”
“All right, then, kid. It's your life. You'll go it alone. If you act smart, you've got a chance. Others your age have done it.” He filled out my form.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “Why are you writing without asking me anything?”
“The whole thing's a lie anyway,” said the German translator. “But it's the only way you'll get into Manhattan.”
“What's Manhattan?”
“The main part of New York City. Where the big buildings are.”
“I don't want to go to New York City,” I said. “I want to go to Napoli.”
“No one's going to pay your fare back, boy,” Giosè said. “It's New York City or an orphanage—your choice.”
Orphanages. We had them in Napoli; the nuns ran them. Children who had no one in the world lived there in misery. I saw myself in ragged clothing, covering my ears against Catholic preaching, alone forever. “No.”
One of the nurses who had tested me earlier appeared, shaking her head and scolding the men. She grabbed my hand and pulled me away.
Something tugged at the back of my waistband. I felt behind with my hand. Someone had tucked folded sheets of paper into my pants. I quickly jammed them in my pocket.
CHAPTER TEN
Needs
The nurse took me to benches at long tables, where tired people sat. Many had chalk marks on their jackets. She tapped on shoulders, getting everyone to look at me. When no one claimed me, she gestured for me to sit and she marked with chalk on the back of my shirt. I could feel her write a giant
O
.
Every so often, a nurse came up and led someone down the hall to the left. But mostly, we waited. A man pushed a metal cart between the tables and gave crackers to everyone and warm milk to the children. It tasted funny, but I drank it.
Some of us were herded upstairs to dormitory rooms. Triple-decker beds pushed against each other in pairs. I was put in the room with the women and children. We were told to leave our things and come down in two hours to eat. In the meantimewe should line up for washing. Mothers stripped their children.
I wasn't about to undress, so I had to find a way to avoid the washing. And I wanted to look at that paper in my pocket.
I went to the bathroom, but women crowded around it. I headed for the stairs down to the bathroom I'd used during the day.
An Italian woman stood in my path arguing with a woman in uniform. “I paid my passage.”
“But you came alone,” said the official. “And no man is waiting for you.”
“See these hands?” The Italian woman held up red hands. “I did laundry night and day to get here.”
“Unescorted women are not allowed off Ellis Island. It doesn't matter how many people you argue with, that's the rule. We'll have to contact an immigrant aid society to come get you.”
“No charity home. I take care of myself. I have money.”
“Don't say it too loud,” said the official, “or you soon won't.” She fingered the keys that hung
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