Friday, April 4, 1947
bETROIT JEWISH CHRONICLE and The Legal Chronicle
Page Two
Beanut and Seder:
a Short Story
(Continued from page 9, Sec. 2)
the third story of our house and
goyim lived on either side of us.
One of these—to reach their house
you had to cross a meandering
stone and rubble patch—was the
Jamiesons, an Irish immigrant
family who still spoke with the
North Ireland brogue.
They were many and poor, the
house they lived in was decrepit,
but they all possessed that pecu-
liar personal dignity which is typ-
ical of most people who are op-
pressed by conditions they do not
understand or control.
Of none of them was this more
correct than Dan, the eldest son,
who dulled in mind because of
perpetual ailments since child-
hood, held the only steady job of
the lot: A street-cleaner working
for the city.
I remember his brothers less
vividly. .They worked only spas-
modically; employment in 1930
was scarce. One of them had twin
bons; who their mother was and
what happened to her I do not
know.
Mr. Jamieson had died just af-
ter emigrating' here, and the whole
brood was governed by the matri-
arch, a stocky woman with fiery
vocabulary. She cared mainly for
her daughters. Catherine, the old-
er, was a gaunt girl incurably ill
from malnutrition.
• • •
I was madly in love with the
younger one.
This infatuation was nurtured
by two unique qualities. Her
name—Beanut—was alone extra-
ordinary. It fascinated me. I
would spend hours in my father's
stable, stroking the black horse
that my father owned, and rol-
ling her name around ray tongue
endlessly.
Her second gift was even more
extraordinary. With a temerity
and adventurousness far beyond
my ken, she would trap mice that
thrived in the stable and leave
them for the disposition of a lazy
old cat. We did not wait to see
the end, but our young imagina-
tions worked overtime on the de-
mise of the animals.
Such episodes sent my mother
into a bristling fury and she
pleaded incessantly with Mrs.
Jamieson to set her errant daugh-
ter on the path of rectitude.
Beatings, lectures, and supper-
.ess evenings failed to daunt
tither of us.
Mrs. Jamieson became indiffer-
mt. My mother was baffled. With
unpredictable illogic she trans-
/erred the blame to Mrs. Jamie-
son.
"Those goyim," she wailed.
'They'll ruin him yet. They'll
make a goy of him yet."
,
"Is that what you want to be?"
she demanded of me. "You'll grow
up and all you'll know is how to
catch mice. A fine future you
have. A mouse catcher. For that
I should have a son."
• • •
Winant Asserts Need for Brotherhood
mrsr,7707--,--1
1.11111111117
who
JOHN G. WINANT, wartime ambassador to Great Britain Week,
served as national chairman for American Brotherhood
tells Detroit citizens why real brotherhood is the "Pattern for
Peace." Listeners at the speakers' table are left to right, the Rev.
Joseph Q. Mayne, executive secretary of the Detroit Round Table
of Catholics, Jews and Protestants; Judge Ernest A. O'Brien,
Catholic co-chairman of the Round Table; Henry Wineman, be-
hind Judge O'Brien, Jewish co-chairman of the Round Table;
Winant; Frank N. 1sbey, chairman for Michigan Brotherhood
Week; Detroit Council President George Edwards; and Calton W.
Gaines, president of the Booker T. Washington Association.
I dashed out of my chair and ran
after them through the brooding
darkness.
• • •
It was not a pretty sight. I have
already mentioned that the Jamie-
sons were poor, but description
is futile. Beanut slept in the
kitchen. An oil-lamp cast a morose
glow over the room. Beanut was
lying on the couch, clasping her
belly and moaning. Catherine and
the brothers stood by helplessly.
My mother took immediate com-
mand. It was obvious that the
girl was critically ill. She shunted
the brothers into another room,
calmed Mrs. Jamieson and In-
structed my father to summon a
doctor at once. Then she and
Catherine undressed Beanut and
put her to bed. I watched in
trembling silence. Fear had
touched me for the first time.
The minutes passed with agon-
izing infirmity. My mother had
been busy meanwhile. She kept
placing cold compresses on the
girl's fevered brow. When she
discovered how little there was to
cat she sent my father over to
our house. He came back with
enough soup and chicken for
everyone. Sight of the edibles re-
minded me of the Seder and I be-
gan to sob loudly.
"What's he doing here?" my
father asked. He beckoned to me.
"Don't worry, she'll be all right.
The doctor is coming any time."
We sat huddled around the bed,
listening to the girl's painful,
soured breathing.
• •
diversion. "Oy, Fanye, you're so with us tonight," my father sighed.
beautiful when you're angry; you He donned his glasses, looked
around to see if we had our Ha-
should be angry all the time."
"Flattery will get you nowhere." gadahs open at the right place,
But my father knew her vulner- and was about to utter the first
prayer of the Seder when—
ability.
A sharp, heavy knock at the
"Such an angry woman," he
hooted. "When I married you I door punctured the mood.
"Who can that be?" he won-
didn't expect you had such a
dered irritably.
temper."
"I'll go," Bess, the younger sis-
"Are you going to do something
The doctor was young, crisp,
about it or are you not? He's ter, offered.
and very professional. "This girl
your son too."
"You stay where you are," my has pneumonia," he announced.
"So quiet you were, so demure. mother said. "Perhaps it is Mrs. "She has to go to the hospital."
I thought ice would turn to water Malkin. She said this afternoon
I felt sick and scared. I rushed
just by your looking at it. How she might not have enough wine," into the next room and flung
can such a beautiful woman have she went out. My father rapped myself down on the bed.
such a temper, I ask myself."
his fingers on the table impa-
It was after midnight when my
This seemed to placate her. tiently; to start the Seder with- father woke me. "Come," he said
Cheeks flushed, she turned back out her was unthinkable.
gently. "We are going home." I
on me.
sat up in alarm. "How's Beanut?"
"Why are you behind that
"She's going to be all right,"
We
heard
the
door
open.
"Why
stove?" she wanted to know. "It's
he said. "She is getting good
Mrs.
Jamieson."
not warm enough for you, hah?
Words tumbled nervously from care."
Go outside, you mashumed, and
Silently we walked over to the
our
neighbor's lips, "I'm sorry to
has
play with your shikse. God
house. My mother, worn and
bother
you—but
my
Beanut—the
sins."
punished me for my
weary, met us.
Before such excoriation I fled. poor child's awful sick—she's
"Such a Seder he's had," she
sweating
and
crying—please
come
Usually Beanut was waiting for
said.
over."
me. When we were not at our
The lights in the living-room
I began to cry.
games we often did our home-
were still on. Their arms clasped
"Shut
up,"
said
my
father
an-
work together. We were really
together, my sisters sat on the
quite fond of each other, in spite grily; at which peremptory order chesterfield sound asleep. My
I
subsided
to
a
sniffle.
of her disdain for my cowardice.
My mother came rushing in. brothers had gone to bed several
• • •
Before she could say anything my hours before. The candles had
We came home from the syna- father anticipated her. "Let her gone out. The magic of the Seder
gogue that Passover in a glorious- call a doctor," he advised.
seemed to have vanished; the
ly festive mood.
"But, Dave, Beanut has a fever. room looked big and bleak.
My father, tall, broad-shoul- You know they can't afford a
We woke my sisters. My father
dered, had never looked more hand- doctor."
thought for a minute and then
some. We clung to him proudly.
"Not tonight," my father in- declared, "We will say the Ha-
The house was deceptively quiet sited. "Not tonight. Be quiet you,"
in all-embracing joy. My mother, he shouted as my sniffles became
incredibly lovely in her best holi- louder. "Fanye, perhaps we could
day clothes, and my sisters call the doctor."
awaited us in the living-room.
Passover Greetings
I can do just as much as any
"Gut Yom Tov," my father said doctor," she answered confidently.
genially."
My father was obviously weaken-
"Gut Yom Tov," my brother and ing. "But it's Pesach," he mut-
DISPATCH - HUDSON
I carrolled.
tered. "And a goy—"
"Gut Yom Tov," my sisters
"Goy, schmoy," my mother re-
LAUNDRY
echoed.
"Gut Yom Tov, Gut Yahr," torted. "She's a human being."
He deliberated. "Well, I won't
sang my mother coming forward
and kissing us each in turn. "Was start the Seder without you.
43 CORTLAND
That's a fact. We'll go over to-
there a big crowd in shul?"
gether.
Mrs.
Jamieson,"
he
called
TOwnsend
8-4220
My father sat at the head of
It did not help that my father the gleaming table; the burning out, "don't you think Beanut
invariably found her concern candlesticks threw wonderful flick- needs a doctor, too?"
I began to cry again. "Beanut's
amusing. This would incite her to ering shadows.
"Packed," he said expansively. sick, I want to see Beanut."
new tirades.
Before my sisters could inter-
"And what are you laughing at," "The Rabbi was in perfect voice."
As eldest son I sat next to him. vene—my brother was still ab-
she challenged. "Do you find what
Passover Greetings
your son is doing funny? Are Our age-old questions hovered an- sorbing this strange new event—
you proud of him for it?"
ticipatingly on my lips.
Our prayer-books were already
"But he doesn't do it," my father
answered. "Besides, they'll both be on the table. We selected ours and
GORMAN AUTO
too old for it soon." He tried a opened them.
"How I wish all our family was
PARTS
GREETINGS
gadah, but this time we shall
have the big Seder tomorrow
night. Do you still know your
four questions?"
* • •
I had never known them so
well. I had never heard my father
read with such feeling.
When it was all over, when we
had finished the token meal, and
read the last prayers, my mother's
eyes suddenly filled with tears.
"Ach, those goyim," she said.
"They couldn't even let us enjoy
the Seder in peace."
"But Beanut's going to be bet-
ter," I chimed in happily. Those
were prophetic words. Shortly af-
terward we moved to another
part of the city and our com-
panionship was never renewed.
They didn't hear me.
My father said mildly, "that
was a fine thing you did."
She lifted her eyes to his.
"Fine?" she repeated in genuine
puzzlement. "They're p e o p 1 e,
Menschen. What difference does
it make?" She surveyed the table
ruefully. "But the Seder's been
spoiled and I had such a fine
meal ready."
My father rose and took her
hand, "Never mind," he smiled, up
"We'll have bigger and better
ones."
And we did. Yet, of those happy
days which recollection has etched
imperishably in my mind, this is
the Seder I remember best.
•
• • •
Passover
Greetings and
Best Wishes
To All
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from
at Clairmount
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Steaks, Chops, Lobsters
TYLER 6-7161
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Detroit
To Our Friends and Entire
Woodward Ave.
Birmingham, Mich.
Jewish Community
a
Passover Greetings
Passover Greetings
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