The Heaven & Earth Grocery Store (McBride)
Short summary
Pottstown, Pennsylvania, 1925-1972. In 1972, state troopers discovered a skeleton in an old well on Chicken Hill, a poor neighborhood. Their investigation led to Malachi, an elderly Jewish man, but Hurricane Agnes destroyed all evidence before they could arrest him.
Forty-seven years earlier, Moshe Ludlow, a Jewish theater owner, married Chona after falling in love with her wisdom and spirit.
Moshe opened his theater to Black patrons, becoming wealthy. Chona ran the grocery store on Chicken Hill, serving the Black community with compassion. When Dodo, a deaf Black boy, faced institutionalization by the state, Chona hid him in her store.
Doc Roberts, a racist doctor, came to examine Dodo. During Chona's seizure, Dodo attacked Doc to protect her. Police chased Dodo, who fell from a roof and was sent to Pennhurst asylum. Chona died from her injuries. Nate, Dodo's uncle, killed an abusive attendant and rescued Dodo, sending him to South Carolina. Dodo lived a long life there, dying in 1972 surrounded by family.
And as he faded to eternal slumber... he would offer four words in his final murmurings that were forever a puzzle... He called out . . . “Thank you, Monkey Pants.”
Detailed summary by parts and chapters
Part 1. Gone
Chapter 1. The Hurricane
In June 1972, Pennsylvania State Troopers discovered a human skeleton at the bottom of an old well in Pottstown. Their investigation led them to an elderly Jewish man living on Chicken Hill. The police showed him items found with the skeleton, including a mezuzah inscribed in Hebrew. Though toothless and disheveled, the man moved with surprising speed, causing the troopers to prepare their weapons when he reached into his pocket. He only produced pens.
The troopers vowed to return after further investigation, but the next day Hurricane Agnes devastated the region. The storm knocked out power, caused massive flooding, and swept away homes. Crucially, it washed away all evidence related to the skeleton.
God wrapped His hands around Chicken Hill and wrung His last bit of justice out of that wretched place. Hurricane Agnes came along and knocked the power out of four counties.
For the Black residents of Chicken Hill, the hurricane was divine intervention that rectified past injustices. When police returned for the elderly man, they found him gone, leaving only sunflowers. He had successfully evaded capture.
Chapter 2. A Bad Sign
Forty-seven years earlier, a Jewish theater manager in Pottstown cleaned his theater after a performance. Two months prior, he had successfully hosted a renowned Yiddish musician, attracting hundreds despite a severe snowstorm. The event was nearly derailed by advertising mishaps, including a mistranslated ad that caused panic in Baltimore's Jewish community.
Deep in debt, the theater manager sought solace at a grocery store owned by a rabbi. There he met the rabbi's seventeen-year-old daughter, who was crippled by polio. She shared the story of Moses and burning coals from the Midrash Rabbah. Inspired, he fell in love. After three weeks of studying together, he proposed. The modest wedding led to over four hundred ticket sales, and the concert was a resounding success.
Following the festivities, the manager saw a dancing guest hurrying to the train station. Their conversation was interrupted by a distinct pop and puff of black smoke from Chicken Hill. The guest, interpreting it as a bad sign, rushed off.
Chapter 3. Twelve
Four weeks later, the theater manager booked a renowned Black entertainer. Pottstown's Black community arrived nervously, as downtown was generally off-limits to them. Once the performance began, the atmosphere transformed into joyous dancing. This initiated recurring dreams for the manager involving Moses and the number twelve. He followed their guidance, booking twelve different Black bands over twelve months, significantly increasing his wealth.
The manager's success with Black audiences drew outrage from rival theater owners. Complaints escalated, leading to official harassment. Within two years, he bought his theater outright and later acquired a second one. Over five years, his wealth grew substantially. A conflict arose between the couple regarding their living situation. The husband desired to move downtown, but his wife was deeply attached to their home on Chicken Hill, citing her dedication to serving the local Black community.
In 1936, twelve years into their marriage, she fell ill with a mysterious stomach ailment. Despite traveling to specialists across multiple cities, no doctor could diagnose or cure her. The Black community rallied around her, bringing food and companionship to the kind woman who had extended them so much credit.
Chapter 4. Dodo
An elderly Black woman stood at her front door while the Pottstown Association of Negro Men convened in her kitchen. Their conversation centered on a dying Jewish woman who owned the grocery store. Everyone owed her money for groceries and favors. A reverend instructed the woman on rituals for preparing the body after death, but she dismissed his beliefs.
The woman then announced that a boy was missing. He had been seen on a freight shuttle heading towards Philadelphia. Her husband, a tall man who worked at the theater, decided to search for the boy. He moved through his garden and found the twelve-year-old deaf boy tossing boulders into the creek. The boy revealed a paper stating his mother was dead and that he had to leave. The man crumpled the paper, threw it into the creek, and told the boy it meant nothing.
Chapter 5. The Stranger
The theater manager awakened at 4:30 a.m. to knocking downstairs. A small, stout Jewish man in his thirties stood at the door, demanding kosher flour for challah bread. They engaged in a physical struggle over the door, with the smaller man displaying surprising strength. The stranger revealed he was a dancer and that the manager's wife would be fine. He announced he had found a wife, reminding the manager of an earlier conversation. As the man spoke, memories slowly returned of a young Hasid who had danced extraordinarily at the concert twelve years prior.
Chapter 6. Challah
The sick woman recovered after two days. Over several weeks, her condition significantly improved. The theater manager attributed her recovery to the dancer, who insisted on bringing challah daily. The bread, tasting of onions and grease, was nearly inedible, but the manager feigned appreciation. Despite his horrible baking, the dancer seemed to possess a unique magic. The dancer's failing bakery soon took precedence. His baked goods were disastrous, causing even the long-suffering Black residents to avoid his shop.
The theater manager offered help finding workers, but the dancer rejected the idea, questioning their kosher status. He then expressed a cynical view of America, stating the country was too dirty for him. The dancer mused that Black people had the advantage because at least they knew who they were. He then abruptly asked the manager to sell his bakery and departed through a side door, disappearing for three years.
Chapter 7. A New Problem
A month after the dancer's departure, the theater manager was approached by his employee about the deaf boy. The boy's mother had recently passed away, and his aunt and uncle had taken him in. However, a state official planned to take the boy to a special school. The employee desperately asked the manager to let the boy hide in the theater basement. Despite his fear of government and law, the manager found courage and told the employee he needed to consult his wife. That night, he recounted the situation to her. She sternly instructed him to bring the boy home.
Chapter 8. Paper
The weekly gathering at the grocery store saw a beautiful laundress dominating the Saturday morning announcements. She was renowned for her insatiable appetite for gossip and food. Her weekly role as purveyor of local news was especially vital. Despite rumors she could not read, her natural beauty and magnetic personality enabled her to extract intimate details from men. On this particular Saturday, her lead story was that a gentle Italian immigrant had knocked out his friend's gold tooth. The storyteller revealed the underlying cause: an incident at a factory where a top inspector had exposed their deception, firing both men.
After the crowd dispersed, she drifted to the back counter and, in a hushed tone, pointed to a tall, dark-skinned stranger observing the vegetables. The women suspected he was from the state, possibly sent to fetch the deaf boy. The storyteller confidently stated she would handle finding the source of the leaks.
Chapter 9. The Robin and the Sparrow
A Black woman was related to many residents on Chicken Hill. Her family tree was complex, and she was noted as the mother of eight children. The grocery store owner observed her nearby home from her window. Despite living next door, the two women had not spoken in years. The narrative then detailed the origins of the store owner's father, a Jewish immigrant from Bulgaria who arrived in America in 1917. He started as a peddler, eventually settling in Pottstown. His first house construction required muscle he lacked, so he hired four Black workers and a coworker from the tannery who was an exceptional stonemason.
The stonemason's daughter and the store owner's daughter became friends as children. Their bond was cemented after a school incident where the Black girl refused to sing and was labeled a sparrow by the teacher. The Jewish girl defended her as a robin. Their friendship deepened through high school until a prejudiced teacher publicly humiliated the Black girl. This incident marked a turning point, and the girl walked away, never returning to school.
Years later, the store owner, though childless, cared for the deaf boy, who brought light and joy into her life. Her peace was threatened when a state official discovered the boy's whereabouts. Desperate, she sought her former friend's help. The friend calmly advised her to cut a hole in the shared fence. If the state man came, she was to hide the boy in her yard, where he would blend in undetected.
Chapter 10. The Skrup Shoe
A prominent Pottstown resident heard rumors about a Jewish woman illegally hiding a Black child. The resident's personal history revealed his childhood struggle with polio, which left him with a deformed foot. His mother took him to an intimidating Jewish shoemaker who crafted a miraculous shoe that alleviated his pain. Despite the shoe's perfection, he resented the shoemaker's arrogant silence.
The Tucker School... sat proudly atop the hill... a monstrous bastion of arrogant elegance, glowing like a phoenix above the ramshackle neighborhood of Chicken Hill.
Chapter 11. Gone
It was close to 2 p.m. at the grocery store when the deaf boy was hiding on a trapdoor ladder to the basement. The store owner moved with her walking stick to greet a visitor. The alarmed look on her face caused the boy to freeze. A flash of fear in her eyes confirmed his unease as the customer approached. The boy saw the store owner's alarmed face talking to the visitor, a man in a fedora and black coat. When the man turned his head slightly, the boy recognized him as the prominent physician. The conversation intensified, with the store owner's face reddening in anger. She gasped, her eyes rolled upward, and she shook violently before suddenly dropping out of sight behind the counter. The boy leaped from the trapdoor and saw the physician running his hands through the store owner's hair and inside her clothes in a disturbing way. Without thinking, the boy jumped off the counter and tackled the physician. At this moment, the store owner's helper rushed toward her. The physician and the helper tried to steady the store owner. The physician was gone, but soon returned with two policemen. The boy ran, was pursued, climbed a fire escape, but was grabbed by a rooftop officer. He spun, then experienced a crunching bang and went into deep, silent blackness.
Part 2. Gotten
Chapter 12. Monkey Pants
The deaf boy first encountered another patient in Ward C-1 of Pennhurst State Hospital. The boy was in traction in a steel-caged crib, suffering from multiple injuries. The other patient was a painfully thin, white child, approximately eleven or twelve years old, lying in an adjacent crib. His body was severely contorted, resembling a primate. The sight brought the deaf boy back to consciousness. The deaf boy's journey to Pennhurst was confusing. He didn't understand why he was being admitted to an institution for the insane after an examination by a doctor who declared him an imbecile. Upon waking, the deaf boy's initial reaction to the contorted patient was tears. The patient, seemingly unfazed, peered at him with one eye. The deaf boy realized that the patient, despite his physical challenges, was a conscious and intelligent individual. The patient began to communicate through body movements. After a moment of frustration, the deaf boy spontaneously sang a gospel hymn. The patient's face softened into a smile. Then, with renewed effort, the patient painstakingly unraveled his limbs, extended an arm through the crib bars, and fully revealed his face. At this moment, a profound understanding passed between the two boys. The patient then raised a finger to his lips, signaling to play dumb, and deliberately soiled himself, redirecting attention and protecting the deaf boy.
Chapter 13. Cowboy
The theater manager faced the emotionally taxing task of closing the grocery store. While working in the basement, he discovered a small wooden barrel containing tiny toys and marbles his wife had gathered as gifts for the deaf boy and other neighborhood children. This discovery overwhelmed him, and he burst into tears. The theater manager's employee and his wife were present, assisting with the cleanup. The manager reflected on their shared grief, particularly concerning the boy's placement in Pennhurst. He felt relief in their presence, as they were the only ones he desired near him during this difficult time.
Chapter 14. Differing Weights and Measures
The proprietor of a club in Chicken Hill stood outside his establishment at 2 a.m., troubled despite the lively atmosphere inside. His concern stemmed from the theater manager's employee, who was drinking heavily inside. The proprietor reflected on a recent injury he sustained due to a mishap involving his friend and a faulty fire hose. Later, the proprietor and another man escorted the silent employee home. As they walked back, the other man asked what the employee meant by his utterance. The proprietor explained that the employee's words were from the Bible, but clarified the true meaning: they had to bust the boy out of Pennhurst or there would be trouble.
Chapter 15. The Worm
An Italian woman learned about the commotion involving a Jewish storekeeper and a deaf Black boy from two sources. The first was the president of the Volunteer Women's Association, who spread a convoluted, prejudiced rumor. The woman found this gossip unreliable. She maintained her friendship with another woman, a fellow Sicilian, and visited her in the kitchen. As they discussed the incident, the friend revealed information about the physician. The friend then angrily questioned where one could hide a boy in their area. The woman recounted police involvement and the injured storekeeper. At the mention of the physician, the friend became visibly agitated. She then fiercely declared that she would rather be institutionalized than let the physician put his fast hands on her again. The woman was alarmed by this revelation. Later, while making dinner, the woman experienced a sudden panic, realizing the small town and the nature of her friend's trouble were dangerous. She was increasingly concerned about her softhearted son, who was close friends with the club proprietor. She decided she must talk to him about meddling in others' affairs. She set out to find him and confronted him, pointing her finger and speaking in Italian, accusing him of heading for trouble. She warned him about the institution and scolded him for potential police involvement. She then confronted the club proprietor directly. The proprietor, who was in Philadelphia during the incident, realized he didn't truly know what happened but feared the woman speaking to his sister, who helped hide the boy. The proprietor decided to tell the woman what he knew. He explained that the boy was the son of a woman who died recently, and three years prior, a faulty stove caused an accident that left the boy deaf. The boy's aunt and uncle took him in, but he refused school. They asked the storekeeper to hide the boy from the state until they could send him South. The woman then questioned why the physician was involved. The proprietor speculated someone told him. When the woman suggested there was a fight at the store that injured the storekeeper, the proprietor denied it, stating the storekeeper fell out and her clothes were kind of torn off her. The woman, disbelieving, pressed further. She interrogated another man, who admitted the storekeeper's helper was fixing her rumpled dress when he arrived and saw the physician running out, only to return with police. He added that the boy was upset and yelled things about the physician as the police chased him. When the woman suggested asking the boy, the proprietor dismissed it, calling him deaf and dumb. The woman corrected him on dumb, then pointed to the men, counting them in English, seemingly making a broader point about intelligence, before leaving.
Chapter 16. The Visit
The storekeeper was in a private room on the top floor of Reading hospital. Her stay was being paid for in cash by a wealthy Philadelphia theater owner. The unusual presence of a Jewish woman and a Black nursemaid caused resentment among the nurses. The storekeeper remained comatose for four days. However, the nursemaid observed her stirring and mumbling each morning. On the third day, the theater manager arrived with his employee. The manager asked them to leave. They retreated to the hospital foyer, away from the watchful eyes of the white staff. This was their first moment alone since the incident four days prior. The employee dismissed the nursemaid's observations about the storekeeper, advising her to leave medical matters to doctors and to avoid discussing the incident with anyone. The nursemaid insisted she was present and witnessed the physician assaulting the storekeeper. The employee, aware of hospital personnel nearby, warned the nursemaid not to mention the physician's name and to stay out of white folks' business. He explained the physician's version of events: that he went to fetch the boy, who attacked him, and the storekeeper fainted from the shock. The nursemaid challenged this, asking if the storekeeper fainted with her dress pulled over her head. The employee became agitated, urging the nursemaid to stop questioning, emphasizing that nothing could be done against the white man's narrative. The nursemaid then questioned the employee about his whereabouts two nights prior. The employee confessed his drunken state and expressed regret. He then revealed his concern for the boy, who had been sent to an institution. He lamented that the boy, who was smart and had potential, was now effectively lost. The nursemaid suggested asking the theater manager for help, but the employee dismissed the idea. The employee then suggested a reverend, but the nursemaid quickly rejected this, implying that the reverend was not to be trusted. The nursemaid's reluctance stemmed from her deep-seated mistrust of the reverend. She believed he was the one who revealed the boy's hiding place to the state. The employee mentioned a recent argument between the reverend and the boy's mother's friend at church. He then speculated on how the physician knew the boy was on the Hill, suggesting the friend might have told, which the nursemaid vehemently denied. The employee, however, revealed a newspaper report about the friend ranting and whipping her child, making him connect the dots to the reverend as the informer. As the employee processed the realization, his demeanor shifted from tired to one of contained fury. The nursemaid, witnessing this suppressed rage, became frightened. The employee pointedly asked if the reverend had visited the storekeeper. The nursemaid, trying to calm him, stated the storekeeper had her own Jewish reverend and didn't need the other one. The employee countered, recalling the reverend visiting another man when he was sick. The nursemaid attempted to redirect him, urging him to keep out of white folks' business. When the employee became unreachable in his anger, the nursemaid made a desperate plea, asking him to visit the boy, bringing him clothes and sweets. The employee, moved by the nursemaid's concern and love, softened, promising to think on it.
Chapter 17. The Bullfrog
The Jewish congregation in Pottstown faced a crisis when news of the storekeeper's hospitalization coincided with the discovery of a bullfrog in the women's ritual bath. A new member offered to donate money for a new, larger bath. This generous offer highlighted the synagogue's dire financial state. The congregation's membership had grown significantly. At a meeting of the men's group, the discussion shifted to the growing political turmoil in Germany. A member then grilled the rabbi about the bullfrog's origin and the water supply. The rabbi nervously avoided directly answering about the water source, eventually admitting that the town had difficulties supplying running water to Chicken Hill. The rabbi explained that when the synagogue was built, the town refused to run water to Chicken Hill, so water was hauled in barrels. The storekeeper's father made an arrangement after the original builder absconded with funds. The current problem was that the storekeeper's father never formalized this arrangement before his death. A member suggested paying the city for water, but another explained that the current head of the city council held a grudge against the Jewish community due to the storekeeper's past letter of complaint. The rabbi then revealed that the synagogue had, without permission, tapped into the well supplying the public water spigot. This illicit connection was made by a local Black man who had since died. The well was now struggling to supply enough water, explaining the bullfrog's presence. The rabbi further revealed another complication: the dairy was recently sold to the city council head. A member realized the seriousness of the situation, recognizing they were stealing water from a hostile mayor. The rabbi clarified that no current synagogue member was involved in the illegal tapping; the storekeeper's late father confirmed this. When asked about who made the connection, the rabbi reluctantly named the deceased local Black builder with a son who was a scrap collector. A member declared an end to bad deals and urged the congregation to modernize, instructing the rabbi to resolve the issue.
Chapter 18. The Hot Dog
A week after being assaulted, the storekeeper lay in her hospital bed, experiencing a profound spiritual awakening. The Hebrew prayer filled her mind, not as a sound but as a feeling of light and movement. This mystical experience was abruptly interrupted by a sudden, intense thirst. As she drank, she heard the prayer's words, recalling fond childhood memories. During this spiritual state, she sensed a hand slipping into hers, recognizing it as her husband's. This connection reaffirmed her consciousness. Simultaneously, she heard a sweet trumpet in her mind, symbolizing everlasting love. However, this moment of clarity was intertwined with a stark realization: she was dying and felt an urgent need to convey this to her husband. Her spiritual experience was then sharply contrasted by the strong, delicious, yet forbidden smell of a hot dog. This aroma was so potent that it made her feel embarrassed and unclean. The smell triggered a fragmented memory of tasting a hot dog with her friend at a stand, a childhood indulgence. As she tried to recall the memory fully, sharp pain sliced through her, dispelling both the memory and the aroma, forcing her to open her eyes. The storekeeper found her hand clasped in her husband's, who was asleep in a chair beside her. Overwhelmed by guilt, she silently lamented her past treatment of him. A profound wisdom descended upon her, the realization that all people are one tribe. She desperately wished to share this insight with her husband in what she perceived as her final conscious moments. However, another intense burst of pain overwhelmed her, causing the spiritual flecks of light to vanish. In a fading moment of awareness, she waved her hand and commanded to throw that thing out. Her husband awakened immediately, and the storekeeper repeated her instruction to throw out the hot dog. He looked around the room, and her gaze followed, revealing the gathered figures: her husband's cousin, the rabbi, two twins, and behind them, the nursemaid, the employee, and her former friend. She inquired about the boy, and her husband reassured her they would get him back. Her husband spun out of his chair, still holding her hand, and kneeled by her bed. The nursemaid wiped her face with a towel, and the storekeeper observed her former friend, who looked ashen. The storekeeper, attempting a joke despite her pain, asked her friend if she was eating a hot dog, immediately regretting it as the act of speaking intensified her pain. She realized she spoke in Yiddish when her husband translated, and her friend, usually grim-faced, smiled sadly. Her friend softly denied having a hot dog, a response that marked the last the storekeeper saw of her as the pain forced her to close her eyes. She heard the rabbi awkwardly intoning a prayer for healing. Her husband then firmly ordered everyone out. Meanwhile, in the hospital hallway, the diverse group of well-wishers stood awkwardly before the nurses' station. There was no place to sit, just an uncomfortable gathering of Jews and Blacks. The rabbi attempted to engage the husband's cousin, asking about his travel and a letter he sent. The cousin, dismissive, denied receiving the letter and silenced the rabbi. The cousin then questioned the twins in Yiddish about who helped the storekeeper's father build the synagogue. One twin confirmed they were present, and the other stated it was built with a Black man. The cousin then questioned the connection of the man to the water pipe, learning he was dead. When asked who worked with him, one twin pointed to the former friend, indicating she was the man's daughter and her brother might know more. The cousin glanced at the friend and the employee, then promised to see the synagogue repaired. The rabbi interjects that he wrote about the physician in the letter the cousin claims not to have received. The cousin maintained his denial. Their strained conversation was interrupted by the husband's piercing howl from the storekeeper's room. The group turned to see the nursemaid entering the room, shoulders hunched, hand clasped to her mouth. As the husband's sobs echoed, the discussion about the physician was forgotten. The diverse group moved slowly towards the storekeeper's room. The narrative then shifted to a poignant reflection on their collective future in America, a future where their rich histories would be reduced to superficial commercialism. The dying storekeeper, it was revealed, smelled not a hot dog but a prophetic vision of a future where ubiquitous devices would deliver oppression disguised as free thought.
Part 3. The Last Love
Chapter 19. The Lowgods
The club proprietor and two others arrived in a car at a secluded community of Black residents known as Lowgods. It was raining heavily, and the proprietor was visibly nervous about being in this unfamiliar, insular hamlet. A woman insisted on going inside alone, instructing the others to wait in the car. Inside one of the houses, the woman found a small assembly and a stately woman dressed elegantly. This woman, revealed to be a fortune-teller, conducted a session where she danced, then typed answers to questions on cards for the attendees. The woman was astonished by her transformation from a coworker into a respected spiritual leader. After addressing all the attendees, the fortune-teller dismissed them but asked one man to stay. She indicated that the woman needed his help. The man, after confirming the employee was still alive, agreed to help. The woman questioned the fortune-telling, but the fortune-teller clarified that she was an oracle and a messenger of God's word. The fortune-teller then recounted a story about gangsters, highlighting how the Lowgods protected their own. She emphasized the Lowgods' distinct cultural identity and their understanding of human weakness. She explained that many Lowgods work at Pennhurst because they possess a deeper empathy regarding the mentally ill patients. The fortune-teller explained that the person the woman was seeking, related to the boy, was in Ward C-1 at Pennhurst. This individual, a twisted Lowgod, remained at Pennhurst to maintain order among the worst patients. The fortune-teller stated that the woman must deal with him to free the boy. She directed the woman to seek advice from a Low Country person living on the Hill. Before the fortune-teller departed abruptly, she typed three words on a card for the woman: Son of Man. She also advised the woman about the club proprietor, noting his good heart. The woman was left holding the card, realizing she forgot to ask for the name of the Lowgod man in Ward C-1.
Chapter 20. The Antes House
The annual Memorial Day celebration in Pottstown was a long-standing tradition involving a parade featuring council members in Revolutionary-era costumes. The celebration was a tribute to the town's supposed greatest composer. The mayor's speech emphasized the town's industrial history. The city council chairman, however, found himself inwardly grumbling through the speech, suffering from a throbbing toe and pressing financial worries. He had recently acquired a dairy but was short money, leading him to borrow from a frightening mobster who had since aggressively increased the interest rate. Seeking relief for his painful toe, the chairman anxiously waited for the physician, a prominent figure in town. The physician eventually appeared. The physician was initially reluctant to examine the chairman's foot, citing his commitment to play in the band. Their history was revealed to be contentious. Despite their mutual animosity, the chairman persisted in asking the physician to look at his toe. The chairman revealed his swollen, red toe to the physician, who remained unhelpful. The chairman recounted his theory that the pain began after an elevator incident with his wife, but privately, he knew it started after his fateful visit to the mobster. The weight of his financial predicament caused the chairman immense stress. The physician, meanwhile, was internally battling his own demons. He was deeply troubled by the recent death of the storekeeper, and in a moment of confusion, he stole a pendant from her. He carried it with him, intending to discreetly dispose of it near Chicken Hill. As the physician and the chairman sat on the steps, they observed Black residents walking by. The chairman made openly racist comments. The physician was visibly uncomfortable and internally questioned if the chairman knew about the storekeeper's death. The chairman then casually mentioned the storekeeper's death, referring to her as the Jewess. The chairman further revealed that the storekeeper was known for writing letters to the local paper complaining about the White Knights march. The physician, struggling to maintain composure, deflected questions about the storekeeper's deaf son, saying he was sent to Pennhurst. The physician, angered by the chairman's racism and hypocrisy, confronted him about muddy water coming from a faucet in a basement, implying a connection to the city's water supply to Chicken Hill. The conversation escalated as the chairman, his face reddening, retaliated by mentioning rumors about the physician and that Jewess. The physician vehemently denied the implication, asserting that the storekeeper had a seizure and her son attacked him. The chairman, however, remained sly, hinting that the rumors he heard were different. The physician, furious, rose to leave, but the chairman, quickly changing his demeanor, attempted to reconcile. The physician, recognizing the political expediency of not making an enemy of the chairman, agreed to examine his foot later. He suggested a shoemaker on Chicken Hill who could fix the chairman's shoe and toe. The physician decided not to reveal that the shoemaker was Jewish.
Chapter 21. The Marble
The deaf boy's harrowing five-week experience in Ward C-1 at Pennhurst began with a blur of shock, sorrow, and pain. His initial days were exacerbated by heavy medication. He was overwhelmed by the stench, fear, and unsettling interactions. The stark transition from his comfortable life to a ward of two hundred men in a steel crib left him traumatized. The boy's near-deafness became an unexpected advantage, shielding him from the constant noises. He quickly learned to devour his food to prevent others from plundering it. Despite the horrifying conditions, the boy's body yearned to live and heal, finding a spark of hope in the fellow patient. The fellow patient produced a blue marble from beneath his pillow, immediately captivating the deaf boy. This simple object sparked a desire for communication between the two boys. Initially, communication was challenging. However, the boy's curiosity eventually took over. Within a week, they established a basic sign language. The marble remained a central point of their discourse. The boy, who loved marbles and associated them with the storekeeper, desperately wanted to know its origin. Each day, the boy asked the fellow patient about the marble's source. After countless gestures, the boy deduced it was a gift. They had an abundance of time, adhering to a monotonous daily routine. After three weeks, a breakthrough occurred. The fellow patient pointed to the boy's cast. Through persistent gesturing, the fellow patient tried to convey something. The boy initially misinterpreted the gesture, but eventually realized the fellow patient was nodding yes to A, the first letter of the alphabet. This was a major breakthrough. Over the next two days, the boy discovered the fellow patient's one-handed alphabet system. Despite the exhaustion of deciphering this complex system, the boy became proficient. Ignoring the fellow patient's attempt to ask his name, the boy impatiently reiterated his question. The fellow patient then patiently spelled out, My mother. The boy was relieved to finally solve the riddle but then asked about her whereabouts. The fellow patient's expression quickly shifted to fear, his eyes widening, and he made the sign for danger. The boy turned to see a tall, handsome Black man, an attendant, standing at the foot of his crib. The attendant, with deep brown skin and a long scar on his forehead, emanated strength despite his gentle, sardonic grin. His calm, deep-set eyes held a muted wildness that instilled terror in the boy. The man attempted to engage the boy, asking if he was the new boy and if he lip-read, but the boy feigned misunderstanding. The attendant then stroked the boy's forehead, a gesture of kindness the boy hadn't felt in weeks, yet it unnerved him as the touch extended down his body before lifting away. The man then asked the boy's name, but the boy shrugged. The attendant smiled, dismissed the boy's lack of response, and with a quick glance at the empty nurses' station, grabbed the boy's good leg, lifted him, pulled up his gown, and gazed at his bottom, remarking on his appearance. After this unsettling encounter, he gently lowered the boy and left. Immediately, the fellow patient frantically rattled his crib, gesturing wildly with fear. The boy asked who the man was, and the fellow patient spelled out, Son of Man. Bad. Bad. Very.
Chapter 22. Without a Song
The theater manager faced the emotionally taxing task of closing the grocery store. While working in the basement, he discovered a small wooden barrel containing tiny toys his wife had gathered. This discovery overwhelmed him. The employee and his wife were present, assisting with the cleanup. They maintained a silent vigil as the manager wept. The manager reflected on their shared grief, particularly concerning the boy's placement in Pennhurst. He dismissed any guilt the employee and his wife might feel regarding his wife's death, knowing the boy brought her immense joy. He felt relief in their presence. The manager recounts the employee's wife's version of the events leading to his wife's death, which contrasted sharply with the physician's narrative. The manager was certain of the boy's innocence but recognized the danger of challenging the physician's story. Neither local authorities nor the police would support the manager. His only allies were the small, powerless synagogue and the Black residents, particularly the employee, who was fearful of the police. A sudden chest pain momentarily incapacitated the manager, making him realize the physical intimacy his wife brought into their lives. He acknowledges his wife's unconventional disregard for societal rules and her belief in improving the world. Despite his emotional and physical distress, the manager tried to appear strong when the employee's wife asked if he was alright. He offered the employee and his wife any items they might want, but the employee remained silent. The manager asked about the boy, and the employee's wife revealed they planned to visit him soon, with the manager offering to make the arrangements. The employee's wife advised the manager to let the employee act in his own time. The manager noted the employee's recent silence. The manager's grief during the mourning period was profound, spent mostly sleeping, while his cousin, the employee, and the employee's wife managed the arrangements and visitors. He reflects on the emptiness left by his wife's absence. As he sat down, exhausted, the employee's wife assured him they would finish the work. The manager picked up his wife's barrel, intending to go upstairs, when a black sedan pulled up outside. His cousin's voice called from the store, and the cousin soon appeared at the top of the basement stairs with a mysterious companion. The manager, irritable, conversed with his cousin in Yiddish, then an infant-sized pair of pants with a Star of David was thrown down to him. The dancer, a friend, emerged, revealing he bought them and delivered them himself. After an emotional reunion, the manager, his cousin, and the dancer gathered upstairs for tea. The manager questioned the dancer's sudden appearance and his ability to travel from Europe, hinting at past troubles and acknowledging the rising tensions there, which the dancer confirmed. The conversation turned somber as the manager mentioned his mother, who shared the dancer's disdain for America, leading to another wave of sadness for the manager and sorrow for his cousin. The cousin, speaking in English, expressed a desire to talk to the employee and his wife about what happened, dismissing the manager's attempts to discourage him. The cousin's determination led him to the basement, despite the manager's warning about potential trouble. In the basement, the employee encountered the cousin, who immediately questioned him about the storekeeper's death. The employee, after glancing at his wife, denied being present. The cousin then tried to bribe the employee and his wife for information, which the employee vehemently rejected, stating his word was not for sale and recounting a past experience where taking money from a stranger led to eleven years of trouble. The employee expressed deep respect for the manager and his wife, recognizing their unique goodness and contrasting their right ways with the white folks' laws and the corruptibility of the legal system. The employee argued that money spent on lawyers for the boy would be wasted, as the physician and others would simply overturn any favorable rulings, ensuring the boy's continued incarceration or worse. He emphasized that the law in this land was dictated by white men, and they were already indebted to the manager and his wife for their kindness. The cousin then asked about the former friend, the boy's mother's friend, inquiring about her relationship with the storekeeper and her willingness to speak. The employee confirmed the friend and the storekeeper were very close and that the friend helped the storekeeper hide the boy from state officials, suggesting the cousin offer the friend assistance, mentioning he had done favors for her in the past. The cousin agreed to visit the friend, intending to listen rather than talk, understanding her aversion to excessive conversation.
Chapter 23. Bernice's Bible
The club proprietor and another man were in the thick woods behind the club, working on an ancient convertible. A man emerged from the club, informing the proprietor that his sister was there to see him. The proprietor, reluctant to interrupt his work, initially tried to avoid her. He found his sister sitting on the porch bench, dressed in her church attire. Their relationship was strained due to a long-standing dispute. His sister confronted the proprietor about his absence from the storekeeper's funeral and urged him to get saved, which he dismissed with disgust. She then claimed to have something valuable for him. The proprietor, always thinking of money, was intrigued. Their conversation revealed deeper family wounds, including the proprietor's bitterness about his time in prison and his sister's reminder that he put himself there. The proprietor expressed disdain for her religious fervor, while his sister criticized his lifestyle. His sister then dropped a hint about money, which caused the proprietor to stop and press her for details. She insisted she was not there for herself but for missionary work. Their argument escalated, touching upon their shared past, their father's legacy, and their relationship with the Jewish community on the Hill. His sister criticized the proprietor for his lack of decency in not attending the storekeeper's service. The proprietor, however, believed those days were gone, viewing the Jewish community as now aligning with white society. The conversation shifted when his sister asked the proprietor about their father's work, specifically if they laid any water pipes on the Hill. The proprietor recalled a deep well their father dug for the Jewish church near the public fountain, capped with a concrete manhole cover, and confirmed he knew its location and depth. Satisfied with his answer, his sister gave the proprietor a large brown envelope, stating it was a gift. The proprietor, expecting a Bible, tried to refuse, but she departed quickly. Later that night, alone, he opened the package. Inside, he indeed found a Bible, but also five hundred dollars and a two-page note. He quickly read the first page, then noticed an additional four hundred dollars taped to the second page. In his haste and excitement, the proprietor ripped the four hundred dollars from the second page, accidentally tearing part of the note. He exclaimed praise and ran off, leaving the rest of the second page, bearing the remainder of the note, to flutter to the ground.
Chapter 24. Duck Boy
A woman, known for her exceptional sweet potato pie, gathered the employee, his wife, another man, and the club proprietor in her kitchen. The last to arrive was a woman who worked at Pennhurst. This woman, previously seen as an oracle in elegant attire, now appeared as a neatly dressed health care attendant in white. Her professional demeanor faltered only when she saw the employee at the table. The woman expressed surprise at the employee's presence, but the hostess insisted they were family. After a moment of hesitation, the woman took a seat. The hostess, trying to ease the tension, mentioned the woman's job at Pennhurst and her ability to tell futures. The club proprietor, intrigued, asked the woman to tell his future, to which she responded with a cryptic and slightly threatening remark. The woman addressed the employee, acknowledging his presence and his past involvement in a place, an event the employee dismissed as done and over with. The club proprietor overhears this and recalled a warning from a former cellmate about the employee. The hostess attempted to explain the reason for the woman's invitation, but the woman interrupted, stating she was not interested in the details of their business. She asserted her presence was solely to discuss her life, emphasizing that her experiences might offer insights to others. The woman elaborated on her philosophy, contrasting different types of understanding with plain wisdom. She identified herself as a Lowgod from a specific place, a community with a strong connection to their ancestral past. She explained that there were only two families in that place: the Lowgods and another family, noting with a glance at the employee that few of the other family remained. The club proprietor, remembering his cellmate's mention of the employee's family name, inquired about the fate of that family. The woman explained the nature of Lowgods and the other family: they were steadfast and committed, moving towards truth and fearing God. She then recounted how she came to work at Pennhurst, a sprawling institution she described as a city that appeared clean on the outside but harbored deep suffering within. The woman expressed her wish for Pennhurst to crumble, believing many patients were finest people whose illness was honesty in a world of lies. She described the horrific conditions she had witnessed at Pennhurst, including patients suffering severe neglect and abuse from attendants. The hostess then asked the woman about the children at Pennhurst. The woman replied she had none of her own, but then shifted to describing the doctors as mostly foreign and ineffective. The woman agreed to talk about a specific child. After receiving a second slice of pie, she recounted the story of a duck boy, a white boy around eleven or twelve who quacked like a duck and was left at Pennhurst by his parents, who never visited. The boy was moved to the low wards, eventually reaching C-1, the worst ward. The woman took a liking to the intelligent and smiling boy, but noticed a change in him after a few weeks, attributing it to an attendant known as Son of Man. Son of Man, a Lowgod from the place whom the woman knew since childhood, was described as a good-looking but twisted individual who made the woman's life hell after she warned him about his treatment of the duck boy. He threatened her and held considerable power over both patients and other attendants, terrifying everyone on his ward. The woman then subtly asked the employee if it was God's purpose for him to be involved, hinting at his potential return home, to which the employee replied, I am home. After a pause, the woman continued, highlighting her understanding of the Pennhurst patients, who, despite their ailments, desired to live, be happy, and have friends. She revealed that Son of Man severely abused the duck boy, leading to his hospitalization. Once healed, the boy was returned to the same ward, prompting the woman to pray for him. Soon after, the duck boy went missing. The woman then used her pie slices to demonstrate a possible escape route through a series of tunnels beneath Pennhurst. She explained that Pennhurst had miles of old, unused tunnels, and speculated that the duck boy might have used one beneath Ward C-1, leading to an old railroad yard. She doubted how a child could know these complex tunnels, especially since many were closed off and unmapped. The club proprietor questioned the relevance of tunnels, leading the woman to explain the Lowgods' unique worldview: an interconnectedness of all things. The woman then connected the tunnels to eggs. Pennhurst had its own farm, but eggs were brought in daily by a Negro Lowgod known as the Egg Man, who delivered them and hot coffee to fourteen buildings on the lower ward side by 6 a.m. This feat, she suggested, was impossible without using the tunnels. The employee asked if the woman knew the Egg Man, but she deflected, implying the employee might know him. She then suggested that someone, pitying the duck boy, put him in the Egg Man's cart, who then took him through a tunnel under C-1 to the railroad yard. From there, union Jewish railroad workers helped the boy escape to New York City. The employee inquired about Son of Man, and the woman confirmed he was still at Pennhurst, mentioning a new, deaf and possibly mute Negro child recently arrived on his ward, who was injured and is now healed, which she implied was not a good sign for him. The employee, after a moment of silence, asked if the woman was done with her pie. She confirmed, and the employee slid the plate over, studying the pie pieces as if they were a map. He then asked if the Egg Man delivered to Son of Man, and if so, how Son of Man liked his eggs. The woman didn't know, but chillingly concluded that while the employee may not know Son of Man, Son of Man knew him.
Chapter 25. The Deal
A middle-aged Jewish man in overalls arrived at a Philadelphia theater, seeking the theater manager's cousin. The blonde secretary, mistaking him for a union man, reluctantly allowed him to wait. Despite the cousin's initial dismissal, he unexpectedly greeted the man and escorted him to his heavy black car. As they drove, the man, who made shoes, revealed he was the theater manager's cousin and expressed his dislike for the cousin's unwelcoming demeanor. The cousin questioned how the man found his office, suggesting he should have come to his house instead. The man, being deliberately difficult, asked if the cousin was a crazy Romanian theater owner, to which the cousin responded with a similar query. The man stated he was Lithuanian. The cousin recalled seeing the man, or his twin, at the storekeeper's mourning period. He then directly asked what the theater manager had done wrong. The man defended the theater manager, saying he lived right, unlike some of us in this country. When the cousin suggested he wanted to return to the old country, the man expressed his satisfaction with America, despite its political corruption and thinly veiled antisemitism. The cousin, amused, offered food and asked if the man needed anything. The man observed that the cousin's relative, the theater manager, was soft. The man mentioned he made shoes and served customers from various cities. The cousin, acknowledging the man had a twin, tried to ascertain if the man or his twin was at the storekeeper's mourning period, which irritated the man. The man then told the cousin about the city council chairman, a powerful figure in Pottstown who controlled local government and utilities. The chairman, who owed money to a businessman, had attempted to buy a dairy but found his old farm, which supplied the dairy's water, had no water. The man claimed the chairman was secretly siphoning water from the new reservoir without paying for it, making him vulnerable to state intervention. The man believed that by exposing the chairman's water theft, they could pressure him to retaliate against the physician, who the man suggested attempted to rape the storekeeper. The cousin expressed cynicism about a non-Jew confessing and asked the man about his ultimate goal. The man answered in Yiddish, Justice, and stated his affection for the storekeeper. The cousin, hesitant to mix religion and politics with business, initially dismissed the idea of intervention. The man challenged him on the worth of a Jew's life and the cousin's inaction. The cousin explained his limitations, stating he could arrange entertainment but not involve himself in local political schemes he didn't understand. The man again pressed him on doing nothing. The cousin clarified he was not doing nothing, suggesting they allow the businessman to handle the chairman, which would keep both out of his hair. He emphasized that nobody wanted law enforcement or government involvement, taxes, or problems. He preferred quiet deals over confrontation and stated he needed the man's help with something else. The man asked for clarification on the help needed. The cousin revealed the storekeeper's true desire was for the synagogue to survive. He explained that exposing the chairman's water issue would inadvertently expose the synagogue, which he wanted to avoid. The cousin proposed that the chairman fix his own dairy's water problem, while the cousin arranged for the synagogue's water issue to be resolved without the temple's responsibility. For this, the cousin needed the man's help with one specific task. The cousin required two Jewish union men to be on a freight train that delivered coal and flour to Pennhurst weekly. The purpose was to snatch the storekeeper's colored boy, who witnessed everything and was currently in Pennhurst, when the train made its drop. The cousin would handle the rest, including where the boy would be taken. The man confirmed he could find two trustworthy Jewish union men from the railroad, likely from the Reading area, who would do this for free due to their admiration for the storekeeper's kindness and belief in American justice. The man explained that the railroad Jews, being union men, were driven by principle and were aware of the storekeeper's good deeds, including feeding railroad workers and others for free. He offered his trade of shoemaking as payment to them, noting that a bribe would be rejected, but trade would be honored. This realization brought a flush of shame to the cousin as he reflected on the theater manager's unwavering kindness and principle despite hardship, contrasting it with his own business-driven mindset. He recalled the theater manager's wisdom about negotiation and wondered about the theater manager's current plight in Pottstown. The man reconfirmed the cousin's plan for the water problem. The cousin reassured him that the synagogue's water fix was in progress and reiterated the urgency of having the men ready for the boy's retrieval. He dismissed the chairman and the businessman, suggesting their fate was irrelevant. The cousin instructed the man to have his men ready for the single daily Pennhurst train, with further details to follow. He then jokingly asked the man to visit his house next time, citing his secretary's gossipy nature. The man responded with a wry, suggestive comment about the cousin's personal life, to which the cousin responded, We can't all be like the theater manager.
Chapter 26. The Job
The club proprietor and another man examined a vehicle, which the proprietor quickly identified as a modified Ford. The proprietor, a mechanic, successfully started the engine, and then proposed a job to the other man, asking if he wanted to make some money. The other man, despite earning a meager wage at a plant, readily agreed. The proprietor described the job as connecting a water pipe on the Hill, which he assured was not technically illegal but must be done at night. The other man questioned the legality and the necessity of such an operation. The proprietor explained that getting the city to do it on the Hill was out of the question. He downplayed the difficulty, stating it was a simple task. The other man pointed out that connecting live water lines was wet work, but the proprietor pressured him, emphasizing the financial reward. The proprietor revealed he would add another man to the job, making the other man suspicious of its difficulty. The proprietor then offered the other man thirty-five dollars for what he claimed was a simple plumbing job. The other man was surprised by the sum and questioned if it was a bank robbery, to which the proprietor retorted he was no thief. He further clarified the location as a lot near specific streets, across from the dairy, not for the dairy itself, but for an unnamed party willing to pay long dollars. The other man, still skeptical but enticed by the money, agreed, asking why another man was needed if the job was so easy. The proprietor explained the other man's role was for backup, specifically to fix the old cement manhole cover if it broke, as he was skilled with mortar and cement. A discussion ensued about the logistics of mixing cement, as the proprietor planned to use a noisy gas-powered mixer or a hand crank. The other man pointed out the mixer would wake the neighborhood and suggested a wheelbarrow. The proprietor assured him the other man could handle the cement work and color it to match city standards, and that they would be careful with the cover. They then discussed potential issues with the dairy's watchman, a reverend, but the proprietor dismissed the concern, believing the reverend would be at the Memorial Day parade. Their conversation was interrupted by a woman, who impatiently called the proprietor over. She revealed that the employee needed the proprietor's help that evening to move drums and parade supplies before the employee moved to a specific place. The proprietor initially protested, citing his planned job and an unwillingness to haul materials for the white folks' parade. The woman insisted, explaining that the employee needed someone capable of moving large instruments efficiently on short notice because he had to meet the Egg Man that night. Meanwhile, the narrative shifted to the theater, where the historical society annually stored parade supplies. This year, instead of a city truck, a high schooler delivered a note requesting the gear, as the theater manager was home sick. The employee, who could not read, gave the note to his wife, who delivered it to the theater manager. Upon her return, the employee prepared for a performer's appearance, dismissing his wife's concerns about the parade and his meeting. His wife expressed her apprehension about the employee's plan to meet the Egg Man, mediated by the oracle, to retrieve the boy. She grew increasingly nervous as the time for the employee's departure approached, realizing there was no clear plan and fearing for the boy's fate. She tried to extract a promise from the employee that he wouldn't go into the hospital himself, which he dismissed, but the sound of approaching horseshoes interrupted their exchange. The club proprietor and the other man arrived in a mule-drawn cart, with the proprietor joking about a taxi. The employee, unamused, directed them to the stage door, and they quickly loaded the parade gear. As they departed, with the other man out of earshot, the proprietor confided in the employee about his job for the night, explaining he needed the money. He asked if the employee could be dropped off at the specific place earlier, around four, and be picked up late, around midnight. The employee agreed, but with a frown, confirming he needed to be back by morning. As they passed the dairy, the proprietor decided to confess the details of his job to the employee. He explained he received money through his sister to dig up a water pipe across from the dairy, connecting the Jewish church to the city's water supply, as the public spigot's well was drying up. The employee, understanding the declining water conditions on the Hill, asked who authorized the job. The proprietor admitted he didn't know, only that the note contained a significant amount of money and a second, damaged page that mentioned railroad men, union workers, Jews, and the Pennhurst train. The employee, after some thought, deduced that the theater manager's cousin, the wealthy Philadelphian, was behind the operation. The proprietor then revealed there was an extra four hundred dollars taped to the note for the railroad men, in addition to five hundred dollars for the water main. The employee, after a long silence, instructed the proprietor to surrender the four hundred dollars to him, explaining it was meant for the boy. Despite his initial frustration, the proprietor complied when the employee emphasized that the money was for a service and that he must deliver it. The employee then told the proprietor to give the money to his wife at the theater immediately and offered to take care of the specific place himself, returning the proprietor's mule and wagon. The proprietor, though wanting to protest, recognized the employee's authority and agreed to his terms.
Chapter 27. The Finger
The deaf boy was awakened by the fellow patient, who communicated through gestures with his left hand. The previous day, the boy had his cast removed and was transferred to a general ward, where he experienced the overwhelming and desperate loneliness of the institution. His legs, weakened from disuse, caused him to collapse, leading to his return to his crib to rest with the fellow patient. The general population of patients in the day room displayed various speech disorders and disturbing mannerisms, making communication difficult. Patients spoke to him as if he were mentally incompetent, and he observed a pecking order where stronger patients exploited weaker ones, including stealing food. The boy recounted interactions with several patients who believed they were unjustly institutionalized. The appearance of Son of Man, an imposing attendant in a white uniform, commanded respect and fear among the patients. Son of Man winked at the boy, making him feel observed and uncomfortable. Overcome with exhaustion and confusion, the boy struggled to communicate his experiences to the fellow patient. He was assailed by guilt for past actions and for the harm he believed he caused the storekeeper and the absence of his uncle and aunt. He blamed himself for his incarceration, believing he was here for life due to attacking a white man. He ignored the fellow patient's attempts to communicate. The fellow patient then experienced a severe seizure, reminiscent of the storekeeper's, involving violent gyrations and shaking the crib. Attendants and a nurse administered medication, which calmed him, but the boy observed the fellow patient often faking swallowing his pills. After the seizure, the fellow patient attempted to comfort the boy, gesturing no when the boy expressed his guilt. The fellow patient persistently tried to engage the boy, eventually spelling out Touch my finger. The boy, initially impatient, relented and touched the fellow patient's finger through the crib bars. This initiated a game of endurance, holding fingers together. The boy, feeling a renewed sense of boyishness, described the day room, the bathroom, and other patients to the fellow patient during their contest. Despite the boy's arm tiring, the fellow patient held on, eventually outlasting the boy. The game continued, even after dinner arrived, with both boys soiling their beds in their commitment to the challenge. Attendants ignored them, and as night fell, the lights dimmed. They continued holding fingers, using the faint light from the attendants' station to maintain contact. The boy, increasingly drowsy, struggled to stay awake. The fellow patient's finger briefly dropped, then re-engaged, but eventually, the boy felt the fellow patient's finger fall off permanently. The boy, believing he had triumphed, raised his head but could not see the fellow patient in the dim light. Suddenly, Son of Man appeared at the foot of the boy's crib, smiling menacingly. He quietly moved the boy's crib away from the fellow patient's, creating a space between them, and then unlocked and slid down the bars of the boy's crib. Son of Man slammed the boy down, covered his mouth and nose, and then violently assaulted him, using a pillow to muffle him while exposing his backside. The assault was abruptly interrupted by a violent shaking of the ward and the lights snapping on. The boy realized the fellow patient was having another, more severe seizure, and had thrown human feces at Son of Man, covering him. Attendants rushed to the fellow patient, but Son of Man stopped them, intending to clean the fellow patient himself. A young white doctor arrived, questioning the crib arrangement and the boy's medicine. Son of Man became obsequious and left the ward. The doctor examined the fellow patient and ordered medicine, then instructed that the boy, now healed, be moved to a bed in the morning, and that the cribs be moved back together. The fellow patient was given a shot and fell asleep. The boy, however, was consumed by terror, fearing Son of Man's return and battling guilt. He cried out for the fellow patient, who responded with a tap on the crib bars. The boy reached out, and their fingers connected again, providing comfort until the boy fell asleep. The next morning, the boy awakened to find his arm still extended, his finger touching the fellow patient's. But the rest of the fellow patient was gone, implying his death or removal from the ward.
Chapter 28. The Last Love
A woman, owner of a funeral home in Linfield, Pennsylvania, frequently considered leaving the business due to the overwhelming workload and difficulty finding reliable help, especially as a colored woman. For repairs, she relied on the employee, a dependable and solid man, whose availability was a primary reason she had kept her business open. The woman was therefore happy to give the employee a ride to Linfield on Memorial Day weekend, suspecting he intended to visit his nephew, a deaf twelve-year-old accused of attacking a white woman. During the drive, the woman was in a good mood, as no one had died yet that weekend. The employee was unusually quiet during the ride, confirming he would stay overnight on a specific place but refusing the woman's offer for a ride back. Seizing the opportunity, the woman asked him to fix a leak before he left, offering a cot in the storage closet for him to sleep in if he desired, which the employee declined, stating he had a place to stay. The woman, impressed by his reliability, offered him a permanent, well-paying job, but the employee, gazing at the passing farmland, stated he didn't need a car. The employee worked at the woman's funeral home until almost seven that evening. He first cleared overflowing gutters on the roof and then repaired the water stain in the bathroom and viewing room ceiling. The familiar work calmed him and provided time for reflection. He was not in a hurry, as he was due to meet the oracle at 11:30 p.m. after her shift on the specific place, a mere twenty-minute walk away. He couldn't arrive early, as he had nowhere to hide for four hours. After finishing the repairs, the employee returned the tools and entered the empty viewing room. He moved to the vestibule where the woman kept bodies awaiting services, finding two open coffins with deceased men. The first was a middle-aged man with a neatly folded janitor's shirt on his hands. The second was a younger man, about seventeen or eighteen. The employee then slipped into a back closet, selected a few items, and departed for the specific place. The oracle's plan was to take the employee to the Egg Man and then leave him there. The employee replayed the arrangement in his mind as he walked down the dark highway. The oracle had instructed him to be precise with the time: 11:30 p.m. sharp. The Egg Man was scheduled to leave for a farm at 4 a.m. to collect eggs, meaning he would have to wake by 3 a.m. The employee wondered if the Egg Man was from the specific place, specifically a Lowgod, hoping not, as some Lowgods might be looking for him. The oracle had assured him of secrecy, but the employee worried she might get cold feet or spread word that he was alive. He felt uncertain and disliked the precarious situation. At 2:30 a.m., the oracle, still in her hospital whites, rose from her window at home on the specific place. She took a lantern from her porch, peered out for another ten minutes, then gave up. She quietly left through her back door and walked to the fourth house on the row, where a bare light bulb shone. She tapped on the back door, and an old man with a white beard answered. The oracle informed him the employee wasn't coming. The old man, seemingly relieved, replied, Just as well. The oracle asked if the employee had gotten stuck or waylaid, to which the old man crassly hoped someone had popped him with a pistol. The oracle reminded him of their deal, but the old man clarified that the deal was with her friend, not the employee. He expressed concern about losing his job over the employee or the evil young one at Pennhurst. The oracle questioned if any of her past deals had gone wrong for him. The old man admitted he had kept the employee's secret, but was glad he hadn't shown up. The oracle also mentioned a negative conversation with Son of Man the previous day, which the old man advised her to avoid. The oracle asked for five more minutes, but the old man refused, citing his lateness for the farm, and closed the door, leaving the oracle with a feeling that something was wrong. The old man's usual thirty-minute walk from the specific place to the farmhouse where he picked up his cart and eggs took longer due to his lateness, so he cut through a cornfield. He arrived at 3:10 a.m. and began preparing for his forty-five-minute drive to Pennhurst. He found his nearly blind horse in his stall, fed him hay, and then led him to the chicken coop. The coop, a long rectangular building, was locked against predators. The old man pulled the horse inside, harnessed him, and began stacking crates of eggs onto shelves in the cart. He noticed an unusual silence in the coop: no crowing roosters, fluttering pigeons, and hogs gathered in a far corner. He briefly wondered if these were signs of rain or if the oracle had cursed him, but dismissed the thoughts. Climbing onto the cart, the old man called out to the horse, who started moving toward the gate. The old man then abruptly pulled the reins, remembering he had forgotten to fill the large silver urn with hot water for coffee. This urn was for the lower wards at Pennhurst, and filling it at the coal furnace house was his first stop every morning. He usually added the coffee grounds immediately so it would brew en route. He was meticulous about cleaning the filter daily, as the hot water sometimes contained ash. Though he wasn't supposed to use hot water from the heater, no one at Pennhurst knew the difference. He dumped the filter's contents into the hog pen and headed to the well pump in the chicken coop to wash it. As he reached the pump, the horse whinnied and snorted, but the old man, pressed for time, ignored it. He washed the filter, put it back on the urn, filled it with freshly ground coffee from the warehouse, and then rejoined the horse, who seemed restless. The old man urged him to move faster, but the old horse maintained his own pace, making the old man muse, I'm old, too. Upon reaching Pennhurst's wrought-iron gates, the old man waved to the guard and proceeded toward the lower wards. He passed through a second gate, waving to another guard, and followed a winding road down to the coal-fired furnace house. He stopped, ran a hose to a spigot on one of the giant water heaters, and filled the coffee urn. Instead of returning to the lower wards, he drove behind a ward, where a path led toward the railroad track and out of sight of the wards. He guided the horse and the cart into a thicket containing an overgrown, rarely used path. Ten feet in, the path arced towards a hill sloping down to the railroad yard. The horse, despite his near blindness, navigated the thickets easily. At the edge of the ridge, out of sight of the train and the ward, the old man retrieved two long planks and placed them by the cart's wheels. He drove the horse over old, unused railroad tracks, hid the planks, drove a few more feet, dismounted, and pushed aside bushes to reveal a thick, old wooden door with rusted strap hinges—the entrance to an old railroad tunnel. This tunnel, once used for direct coal delivery to the furnace house, was now partially cemented over. The old man slid back the door, lit his lantern, and drove the horse inside. The horse labored across the buckling cement and potholes, prompting the old man to note his fatigue. He wondered if the oracle had cursed him and worried about the horse collapsing, which would cost him his job and friend. He spoke aloud, denying the oracle's spell, and urged the horse on. The horse responded, pulling hard through a tight turn, reaching the first of three doors leading to the lower basements of wards. The old man delivered to the first two wards without incident; attendants were eager to get their coffee and eggs. However, at the last ward, C-1, he paused, apprehensive. He knew Son of Man and the unsettling rumors surrounding him. The old man always made deliveries to C-1 quick, and hoped today would be no different. But when he knocked and the door opened, revealing Son of Man's smiling face—a sight he'd never witnessed—the old man realized this would not be a normal day. Son of Man greeted him, and the old man grunted a reply, wedging the door open with a wooden prop before moving to grab a crate. Son of Man, however, removed the prop and closed the door, plunging the tunnel into darkness save for the old man's lantern. With an odd tilt to his head and gleaming white teeth, Son of Man remarked on the old man using his cart to escape someone. The old man feigned ignorance about any boy or bag. Son of Man then asserted that no horses or people were allowed in the tunnel, and the old man was not supposed to be there. The old man, irritated, told him not to dictate his job, citing his seniority. Son of Man retorted that the old man wasn't his son and that he shouldn't speak to Son of Man that way. The old man sarcastically wished he could write so he could call himself a fancy name, demanding Son of Man move. Son of Man blocked the door, warning the old man about the jail time for helping someone escape a state hospital. The old man sighed, claiming to be just an old man trying to make a dollar, to which Son of Man questioned, What about my pocket? The old man dismissively replied he wasn't there to clean it, and Son of Man declared, This is my ward. The old man challenged him, asking if the building bore his name. Son of Man threatened to send the old man out hooting and hollering if he continued to talk sideways. The old man's temper flared, and he cursed Son of Man, calling him a ragged little skunk with no respect. He then spun around, grabbed a crate of eggs, and shoved past Son of Man, kicking the door open and stepping inside. As he entered, a hard blow to his skull sent him crashing against the doorjamb, the crate of eggs flying into the room. He heard, My eggs! as he fell. A second blow landed as he tried to stand. He then saw his assailant: Son of Man, wielding a packed sock. Son of Man pinned the old man with his legs and sat on his chest, calmly raining blows with the sock while calling him old, black, squirrely, and a bastard coming in my house. The old man realized the oracle had cursed him, and the humiliation of being beaten like a patient, with a sock to avoid marks, filled him with searing pain. Through blinding flashes of white, he saw a pair of feet emerge from a built-in cabinet in the cart, which was still in the tunnel. The cabinet, a rarely used, two-foot-high compartment beneath the egg shelves, was large enough for a man to squeeze into. The figure emerging was not a ghost but a middle-aged Black man, his face silently determined, his eyes containing a hurricane. The old man recognized the employee, a face he hadn't seen in thirty years, despite its aging. I left you behind! the old man cried, but the employee remained silent. The employee moved with swiftness, grabbing Son of Man's wrist as he raised the sock for another blow. I wish you had, the employee said. Son of Man froze, looking into the employee's eyes, which held not hate or anger, but sympathy and hurt. Son of Man saw his own past and future, and the community they both left behind. The sight blinded him like a great light. The employee, having endured the cart ride with gritted teeth, had feared unleashing the evil poison within him. His adult life had been a flight from a childhood accident at thirteen, not a stove explosion, but a father destroyed by the move north, who had abused his mother. The employee had intervened, evening the score with a crosscut saw. This reckless act had led to a life of begging and stealing, culminating in a penitentiary sentence for killing a rapist and thief—an act that became his only redemption. Meeting his wife in prison, who filled his heart with love and purpose, had cleansed him. But now, he felt it was all slipping away. It ain't your fault, the employee said to Son of Man, and then plunged a kitchen knife he held in his right hand into Son of Man's heart. As Son of Man fell, the old man heard the distant whistle of a morning train. The employee, bloody knife still in hand, calmly told the old man, There's a boy upstairs I come to fetch. And you gonna carry me to him. We can't tarry. The old man refused to go upstairs, stating he only delivered coffee to the basement. The employee insisted that today the old man would bring it upstairs and that if anyone asked, the employee was his helper.
Chapter 29. Waiting for the Future
The annual parade in Pottstown faced multiple delays. First, a fire company's truck broke down. Second, the Revolutionary-era costumes were in disarray. The parade director discovered that several marshals, including the city council chairman and the physician, were wearing incorrect British red coats instead of the Continental Army blue. The director chastised them, explaining the historical inaccuracies, while the physician and the chairman complained about the poor condition of the uniforms and equipment. It was revealed that the town's Jewish community, including a tailor and the shoe-making brothers, usually maintained these items for free, but they were notably absent this year, along with the historical society's band members, many of whom were Jewish. The physician and the chairman were instructed to change their attire. The physician, exhausted and with a painful toe, was told by the director to find his own blue coat. The chairman, feeling sorry for the physician, offered to find blue coats for both of them. While the chairman attempted to trade for a blue coat, he was intercepted by a large man with a foreign accent, whom the chairman suspected was Russian and Jewish. This man, an enforcer for the mobster, demanded payment from the chairman, who was in debt. The chairman, fearing for his family, promised to pay next week, but the man threatened a visit to his home if he failed. The chairman eventually traded for a blue coat, but his anxiety about the enforcer distracted him. The physician initially accepted the chairman's blue coat but then changed his mind, declaring he would wear the red British coat, dismissing the parade's significance. This decision, the narrator notes, would profoundly alter his life. Meanwhile, the enforcer, a Russian-Jewish former boxer and gambler working for the mobster, planned to ambush the chairman after the parade. He was tired and thirsty, and while seeking water, he encountered the other man and the club proprietor, two men who were on their way to inspect an outdoor faucet near the dairy. They spoke in Yiddish and English, with the other man pointing out the faucet. The parade eventually restarted after the fire truck was fixed, but a subsequent backfire from the truck scared a Mennonite family's horse, causing it to bolt with their buggy, delaying the parade further. Many volunteers left for home to watch fireworks or due to exhaustion and the director's demanding nature. The chairman, consumed by panic over the mobster's enforcer, immediately left, intending to call his cousin. The physician, however, decided to stay for a celebratory beer, still wearing his red British uniform. He reflected bitterly on the town's changing demographics, particularly the Irish immigrants, and his own lost aspirations, culminating in a drunken rant about America's decline and his resentment towards the storekeeper, a Jewish woman who rejected him. The physician then drunkenly decided to take a shortcut through Chicken Hill, where the outdoor faucet was located, planning to discard a pendant he inexplicably acquired from the grocery store. The enforcer, who had fallen asleep, woke to the fireworks and, spotting the chairman (who he believed was the physician due to the red coat) still at a specific house, waited. He observed the physician (whom he mistook for the chairman) heading towards the empty lot where the faucet was. The enforcer, believing this was the chairman, followed him into the lot and brutally attacked him, breaking his jaw. The enforcer then left, hearing a splash as his victim fell. He later misinformed the mobster that the chairman fell into a pond, which the mobster disbelieved as the chairman showed up unharmed and debt-ridden. Later, the club proprietor and the other man returned to the well to complete their task: diverting water to the synagogue. They struggled to remove the manhole cover, which broke and fell into the well. They discovered that the old well was dry and that the dairy had been illicitly siphoning water from the city reservoir. They proceeded to tap into the city's large water pipe to supply the synagogue, a dangerous task involving drilling into a pressurized pipe, which resulted in a chaotic burst of water. After successfully connecting the synagogue, they realized they needed a new manhole cover. They searched for another man, who was supposed to bring mortar, but he was absent. The club proprietor and the other man improvised a new concrete cover, using planks and mixing mortar on site. They decided to wait for the concrete to dry, reflecting on their work and waiting for the future. The narrator revealed that if the club proprietor had shone his lantern a mere four inches lower, he would have seen the physician's body at the bottom of the well, alongside the pendant and the broken manhole cover, highlighting the dark fate of a man whose life, and death, served to fuel a tragic, cynical view of American mythology.
Epilogue. The Call Out
In 1936, two Jewish refugee brothers from Austria, aged twenty-two and twenty-four respectively, had been working for the Pennsylvania Railroad for six weeks when they found themselves in an unusual situation on Memorial Day. Hired as brakemen for a freight train, which transported coal from Berwyn, Pennsylvania, to Pennhurst hospital, they were still adjusting to American life. The strangest event occurred when they encountered a tall, lanky Black man cradling a weeping child in an empty boxcar as their train departed Pennhurst for Berwyn. Their union boss, a Polish Jewish railman who had been in America for seventeen months, had given them explicit instructions in Yiddish: Put the Negroes on the train and drop them at Berwyn and hand them over to a Pullman. The boss, though terse, had shown them kindness. Upon arrival in Berwyn at 6:05 a.m., the brothers spotted the boss at the signal tower, nodding to two impeccably dressed Black men in Pullman porter uniforms waiting at the freight yard's end. These two porters approached the freight car, handed the brothers an envelope without a word, quickly scanned their surroundings, and then escorted the Black man and the child across the tracks to the passenger terminal. They boarded a train, bound for Philadelphia's 30th Street Station, at 6:14 a.m. The brothers had no idea who the two passengers were and would never learn. Opening the envelope, they discovered forty dollars for their union job and a note from a shoemaker of Pottstown, offering free new shoes. One brother, holding a lunchbox, questioned the other in Yiddish whether this mysterious gift was connected to a previous discussion about Black people at a gathering in Pottstown, where they had argued about a frog in the ritual bath. The other brother dismissed the idea, citing the vast number of Black people in the country. However, the narrative revealed that the gift was indeed indirectly connected. The shoemaker, whose twin brother was at that gathering, was the source of the shoe offer. The money originated from the theater manager's cousin, passing through several hands—the former friend, the club proprietor, the employee's wife, the employee, and then a woman—before reaching two Pullman porter friends of the woman. These porters then arranged with the boss to transport the man and child. The journey continued from Berwyn to Philadelphia, and then onto a southbound express train, in a first-class Pullman sleeper car, bound for Charleston, South Carolina—the employee's home. The man, the employee, felt certain he would never see his wife again, resolving himself to this as the train traveled south from Philadelphia. He believed he didn't deserve her and was the last of his family line. Yet, the narrative hinted at future developments, suggesting that fortitude and love's reason have many a season, and she would eventually return to him, though he didn't believe it at the time. The child, the deaf boy, would later forget the traumatic experience: being cradled by his uncle, carried through the hospital basement, the bumpy cart ride to freedom, and being lifted into the Jewish brakemen's arms. He would also forget the luxurious first-class sleeper car journey to Charleston, where Pullman porters doted on him, feeding him various foods. The haze of drugs took weeks to fade, and the memories of Pennhurst and the events leading him there were likened to howitzers blowing off in his brain. After Pennhurst, the boy became deaf to external sound, creating his own sound in the form of the sights, smells, and feelings of the beautiful Low Country. Years later, on a South Carolina farm purchased with three hundred dollars from the theater manager's cousin (a Philadelphia Jewish theater owner who, with his relative and others, would establish a camp for disabled children), the boy grew into a man. He farmed, milked cows, attended church regularly, and learned to shout dance. He taught his children practical skills like roof patching, chair caning, and cooking, and they learned from their great-uncle how to build a horse-drawn sugar cane mill, from their great-aunt how to thresh rice and grind meal, and from his wife how to cultivate azaleas and sunflowers. All memories of Pennsylvania were erased from his mind and heart, yet one memory persisted: that of a woman with shining black hair, sparkling eyes, easy laugh, and magic marbles. He also could not forget the friend who extended a solitary white finger as a beacon of friendship and solidarity. This memory remained vivid throughout his long and fruitful life, shining like a bright, shining star. The boy died on June 22, 1972, not as the boy of Pottstown, but as the employee's namesake, a father of three boys and two girls, surrounded by his children and grandchildren. His death coincided with Hurricane Agnes, which devastated Pottstown, and the disappearance of the dancer from southeastern Pennsylvania. He was not, after all, the last of his family line; his family continued. In his final moments, surrounded by loved ones, the man uttered four words that remained a puzzle to all but one absent individual, who awaited him in the afterlife. It was to this unseen figure that he spoke, not to those around him, calling out, Thank you, Monkey Pants.