Read Online The New Year's Quilt (Elm Creek Quilts Novels) by Jennifer Chiaverini - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jennifer Chiaverini
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community, culture, or political power.
“Even children were not safe,” said Adele. “A mob armed with clubs and bats descended upon the Colored Orphan Asylum at Fifth and Forty-Second, where more than two hundred children lived. They looted the place of anything of value—food, clothing, bedding—and then they burned down the building.”
“They attacked an orphanage?” gasped Sylvia. “Had they no shame?”
“What happened to the children?” asked Andrew.
“The building was a total loss,” said Adele. “Somehow the matron, superintendent, and a handful of volunteers managed to get all the children outside unharmed—but the mob was still there, destroying property, attacking and even killing African-Americans unlucky enough to fall into their hands. The superintendent split the children into two groups to try to lead them through the rioting to safety. Two hundred and thirty-three children followed the matron and superintendent to the police station at Thirty-Fifth Street. The remaining twenty-nine made their way here under Harriet Beals Colcraft’s protection.”
“For five days this house was their sanctuary,” Julius added. “For five days the children were sheltered in these rooms while the worst atrocities you can imagine were carried out in the streets.”
“I’d prefer to only imagine them, if you please,” said Sylvia, when Julius seemed prepared to describe those horrors with a historian’s eye for detail.
“While Harriet cared for the children, she must have been out of her mind with worry,” said Adele. “She had led the orphans to an empty house. John had gone out, perhaps to the newspaper office to check on the safety of friends, perhaps to witness the events unfold so he could draw about them later. Only after the rioting subsided did Harriet receive word that her husband was in the hospital. He had been discovered unconscious and badly beaten on the waterfront, where white longshoremen were attacking black dockworkers and sailors. He must have come between the two sides.”
“Or a political enemy recognized him and took advantage of the uproar and confusion to exact some personal revenge,” said Julius. “That’s my pet theory, anyway.”
“I think it’s more likely he rushed to a victim’s aid only to fall prey to the attackers himself,” said Adele. “He never fully recovered from his injuries, but suffered pain and difficulty walking for the rest of his life. He considered it a blessing that his attackers had struck him on the back and legs and left his arms unscathed so he could still draw, and therefore could still support his family.”
“Some blessing,” said Andrew. “If they had tried to hit him but missed, well, that I’d call a blessing.”
“Adele has been entertaining her guests with stories of the Colcraft family ever since,” said Julius. “Almost every time, at the end of the tale, one of her listeners will say, ‘You should write a book.’ ”
“I was going to make that suggestion myself,” remarked Sylvia. “The Colcrafts certainly experienced an interesting chapter of New York history, and you have a gift for words.”
“I thought about it,” said Adele. “Julius has written two books for university presses, and I’ve lost count of how many articles he’s written for academic journals, so I knew something of the publication process. I wanted to tell the Colcrafts’ story, but the thought of writing a book was so daunting. I couldn’t imagine tackling such an enormous project. And what if I couldn’t finish? Or what if I did finish and no one cared? What if every publisher in the world rejected it? What if the writing turned out to be one big waste of time?”
“She found every logical reason not to try,” said Julius. “I tried to encourage her, but—” He shook his head ruefully. “Why listen to me? I’m just her husband.”
“Then last Christmas my mother gave me a book on New York history,” said Adele. “It
“Even children were not safe,” said Adele. “A mob armed with clubs and bats descended upon the Colored Orphan Asylum at Fifth and Forty-Second, where more than two hundred children lived. They looted the place of anything of value—food, clothing, bedding—and then they burned down the building.”
“They attacked an orphanage?” gasped Sylvia. “Had they no shame?”
“What happened to the children?” asked Andrew.
“The building was a total loss,” said Adele. “Somehow the matron, superintendent, and a handful of volunteers managed to get all the children outside unharmed—but the mob was still there, destroying property, attacking and even killing African-Americans unlucky enough to fall into their hands. The superintendent split the children into two groups to try to lead them through the rioting to safety. Two hundred and thirty-three children followed the matron and superintendent to the police station at Thirty-Fifth Street. The remaining twenty-nine made their way here under Harriet Beals Colcraft’s protection.”
“For five days this house was their sanctuary,” Julius added. “For five days the children were sheltered in these rooms while the worst atrocities you can imagine were carried out in the streets.”
“I’d prefer to only imagine them, if you please,” said Sylvia, when Julius seemed prepared to describe those horrors with a historian’s eye for detail.
“While Harriet cared for the children, she must have been out of her mind with worry,” said Adele. “She had led the orphans to an empty house. John had gone out, perhaps to the newspaper office to check on the safety of friends, perhaps to witness the events unfold so he could draw about them later. Only after the rioting subsided did Harriet receive word that her husband was in the hospital. He had been discovered unconscious and badly beaten on the waterfront, where white longshoremen were attacking black dockworkers and sailors. He must have come between the two sides.”
“Or a political enemy recognized him and took advantage of the uproar and confusion to exact some personal revenge,” said Julius. “That’s my pet theory, anyway.”
“I think it’s more likely he rushed to a victim’s aid only to fall prey to the attackers himself,” said Adele. “He never fully recovered from his injuries, but suffered pain and difficulty walking for the rest of his life. He considered it a blessing that his attackers had struck him on the back and legs and left his arms unscathed so he could still draw, and therefore could still support his family.”
“Some blessing,” said Andrew. “If they had tried to hit him but missed, well, that I’d call a blessing.”
“Adele has been entertaining her guests with stories of the Colcraft family ever since,” said Julius. “Almost every time, at the end of the tale, one of her listeners will say, ‘You should write a book.’ ”
“I was going to make that suggestion myself,” remarked Sylvia. “The Colcrafts certainly experienced an interesting chapter of New York history, and you have a gift for words.”
“I thought about it,” said Adele. “Julius has written two books for university presses, and I’ve lost count of how many articles he’s written for academic journals, so I knew something of the publication process. I wanted to tell the Colcrafts’ story, but the thought of writing a book was so daunting. I couldn’t imagine tackling such an enormous project. And what if I couldn’t finish? Or what if I did finish and no one cared? What if every publisher in the world rejected it? What if the writing turned out to be one big waste of time?”
“She found every logical reason not to try,” said Julius. “I tried to encourage her, but—” He shook his head ruefully. “Why listen to me? I’m just her husband.”
“Then last Christmas my mother gave me a book on New York history,” said Adele. “It
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