Eastland (6 page)

“I heard they took my son here,” one man bellowed. “Take
me to him! Please!”
“Wait your turn!” barked another man. “I’ve been here an
hour.”
“Gentlemen, please.” The Red Cross worker looked flustered
and exhausted. “Everyone will be helped. You must be patient
and stay in line.”
I hurried to get behind the man with the missing son. If his
boy really had been brought here, then maybe Mae was here too.
Karel got in line beside me. “Could be a very long night.”
No problem. Mae was worth the wait.

Around eight-thirty Saturday night, we reached third from the
front of a very loosely formed line. A table had been set up in
the lobby of Iroquois Memorial Hospital with a banner that read
Red Cross Aid Station. A middle-aged woman, her strawberryblonde hair beginning to show signs of gray, stepped up to the
table.

“We’re looking for our daughter,” the woman said to the
volunteer. “Kathleen O’Hara.”
“Is she here?” An elderly man hobbled up to the table. “Is our
Katy here?” The man looked old enough to be the middle-aged
woman’s father, but clearly he was her husband.
The Red Cross worker ran her eyes down the roster and then
flipped the page. “No O’Hara.” She looked up. “I’m sorry.”
“Check again! Please!” The elderly man tapped the list in
the volunteer’s hand. “Katy O’Hara. Twenty years old. Red hair.
Wearing …” He looked to his wife.
“A yellow dress trimmed in lace ruffles. Katy bought it at the
Boston Store special for the picnic.”
A shriek escaped my lips.
“What’s the matter, Dee?”
“I know what happened to their daughter. You know too.
Remember the redhead in that lacy, yellow dress?”
Karel’s eyes grew wide. “You mean the one …?”
I nodded.
“Excuse me,” the volunteer called to us. “Do you two know
something about Kathleen O’Hara?”
“I’m not sure.” I crept around the man in front of me. “Their
daughter might have been on the
Eastland
with us.”
“Oh, thank the Lord!” Mrs. O’Hara cried. “Then she’s safe!
Our Katy’s safe!”
“My friend.” I nodded toward Karel. “Tried to save her. But
she slipped from his grasp and plunged—”
“No!” Mrs. O’Hara crumpled against the table. The volunteer
leapt up and placed her arms around the distressed woman.
“We’ll find someone who can accompany you and your
husband to the morgue. Come with me now. I’ll get you some
water.” The volunteer led Mrs. O’Hara down the hall. Another
Red Cross worker rushed forward to help poor Mr. O’Hara.
I trudged back into line. After the man in front of us was
taken to his son’s room, we got our turn.
“I’m looking for my sister,” Karel said to the replacement
volunteer. “Mae Koznecki. Blonde hair. Seventeen years old.”
I held my breath as the volunteer ran her finger down the
pages of her roster.
“I’m sorry. I don’t see her name on our patient list.” She
gave Karel a sympathetic smile. “Perhaps she’s at Franklin
Emergency. If she’s not there …” The volunteer hesitated a moment. “A central morgue has been set up at the Second Regiment
Armory. Curtis Street and Washington Boulevard.”
“How about any unidentified females?” Karel implored. “Any
without names on that list?”
“What was your sister wearing?”
“A lilac-colored linen suit,” I answered for him.
“Rules out one woman. She was all in white. That leaves two
young women not yet identified.”
Karel nearly lunged across the table. “Let me see them!
Please, ma’am. Please.”
The Red Cross worker stood. “Then follow me.” She marched
down the corridor.
I started after her. Karel grabbed my arm.
“I should go alone, Dee.”
I’d opened my mouth to protest, when I remembered the
reports of those bell divers.
Bodies mutilated beyond recognition.
“I’ll wait here.”
But I couldn’t sit. So I paced the lobby for what felt like
forever until at last, Karel returned.
I flew at him. “Well? What did you find?”
He just shook his head.
“Maybe Mae made it home.” I was groping for even a scrap
of hope. “Why don’t you call your father?” Mae might even
answer. Tease us for being so worried. “Please, Karel, call
your father.”
I half-dragged, half-pushed him toward the candlestick
phone at the end of the table. I seized the receiver. “May we?”
I asked the newest volunteer. She nodded. “What’s the number,
Karel?” I had to ask, since I’d never made a call to Mae before.
“Cicero 3152.”
I repeated the number to the operator. When the telephone
rang, I thrust the receiver at Karel.
“Hello!” Mr. Koznecki shouted from the other end. “That
you, Mae?”
Karel put the receiver to his ear. “No, Father. It’s me.”
Karel listened for a moment and then asked, “So, she’s not
there?” Another hesitation and then, “No, not at Iroquois. We’re
on our way to Franklin Emergency. We’ll check in later.”
A sob came through the receiver as Karel hung up.
As prearranged, Salvatore and Lucille met us at the rear entrance of the hospital. Our driver took one look at Karel’s fallen
face and removed his top hat.
“We may yet find her, Mr. Karel.” But Salvatore’s tone revealed his true feelings.
As far as our driver was concerned, we were wasting a trip to
another hospital. Best we head straight to the morgue. I knew
Karel shared those feelings, but he instructed Salvatore to proceed to Franklin. We climbed inside.
“Thank you, Karel, for not giving up.”
He patted my hand and then turned to stare out the window.
I gazed out my own window, lost in thoughts too terrifying to
utter out loud.
“You wait in the cab,” Karel said as Lucille came to a stop
near the emergency entrance. “No point in the both of us going
in. If I find her—”
“When you find her.”
“I appreciate your optimism, Dee, but I need you to be prepared.” He flipped up the collar on his sack coat to ward off the
rain and disappeared inside.
I put a hand over my heart and pleaded with my watch. Make
Mae be here. She had to be here. I didn’t think I could stomach
the morgue, yet as I released that thought, I knew I’d have to
bear up. I checked the time. It was nine-forty. Fourteen hours
had passed since the capsizing.
How many lives had been forever altered in that time? How
many families had been ripped apart? How many hearts had
been broken? And what about work? How many employees had
survived? How could Western Electric go on with so many lost?
I folded my hands and prayed.
Karel poked his head inside the carriage. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t
mean to disturb you.” He ducked back out.
“No! Please, come inside. Tell me what you found.”
Karel climbed into the cab and sat close beside me. His lips
were knotted so tightly, I could barely see them. My heart raced
with fear.
“You’ll need those prayers tonight.”
“Then she’s not …”
Karel dropped his head. My mind swirled as my scrap of
hope shrank to a thread.
“I’ll take you home.” He tapped the back of Salvatore’s seat.
“We need to return to Cicero.”
“No!” I screamed, louder than I’d meant to. “I’m going with
you!”
I had to follow this through to the end. I thought of Mrs.
Koznecki, the strain of not knowing. It had to be better to know
the worst than to know nothing at all.
Karel inclined his head and studied me. “Okay, you win.
Sal,” he called. “Please take us to the Second Regiment Armory.
Washington at Curtis.”

Since it was nearing midnight, I’d envisioned the streets
surrounding the Second Regiment Armory to be fairly
deserted. I had assumed wrong. Police directed a steady
stream of hearses and delivery trucks traveling to and from
the temporary morgue, dropping off their loads of unknown
corpses and transferring identified bodies to their homes to be
waked. Family members, their faces tense with resignation and
fear, poured out of cars and cabs. Like Karel, these unfortunates
had been left with the unthinkable task of finding a missing
loved one. The damp night air resonated with the sounds of
their anguished sobs.

“Can there really be this many bodies? This many families?”
I watched as the crowd outside the Armory was ushered into
some semblance of a line along one outside wall.

“Not everyone is family,” said Salvatore. “There’s probably
more curious than grieving.”
“People want to go in there? On purpose?”
But of course, they did. After witnessing the mob that had
descended on the capsized
Eastland
, why was I so surprised?
I sat quietly, trying to prepare myself for what was to come.
But try as I might, it proved beyond my limited capabilities to
imagine what awaited us inside. The most I could hope for was
that I would not faint or run or become completely unraveled.
“Here’s where the line ends.” Salvatore brought the cab to
a halt alongside the curb, a block and a half from the Armory
entrance. “I’ll let Lucille rest. We’ll be waiting here when you get
back.” He hopped down and held the door open for us.
Karel and I climbed out and turned to leave, but Salvatore
called after us. He reached into the cab and brought out my
umbrella.
“You forgot this.” He passed the umbrella to Karel. “You only
have the one?”
“One is all we’ll need.” Karel nodded at me. I returned the
nod.
One would keep him close to me tonight.
Karel worked on opening the umbrella as Salvatore walked
around to the front of his horse.
“You’re my good girl.” He rubbed Lucille’s nose. “Aren’t
you?” Salvatore reached into his pocket to retrieve something
and then opened his palm to reveal three sugar cubes. Lucille
didn’t wait for an invitation, but slurped up the sugar with one
lick of her long, pink tongue. Salvatore laughed.
Had I heard right? Had our driver actually laughed out loud?
How could he, at a time like this? But what was he supposed to
do? Men still had to work. Horses had to eat. Life rolled on.
But how?
Yet I knew that even though my heart might be shattered
tonight, I too, would have to go on. Each coming day I’d have
to persevere, if not for my sake, then for Mama’s. But would
I ever laugh again? I peeked up at Karel, standing beside me,
and hoped my future, however distant, held some measure of
happiness.
“Come on, Dee. Let’s find our place.” Karel kept the opened
umbrella over my head as we walked toward the end of the line.
“You’re getting wet like that. Having only one means we
share.” I pushed his hand so the umbrella covered his head as
well.
“If you really want to share.” Karel squeezed in next to me.
For one brief, but precious moment, I allowed myself to smile.
The woman at the end of the line turned around as we took
our place behind her.
“Line’s not moving yet,” she informed us. “Still haven’t
opened the doors.”
“What? Really?” Karel asked. “What’re they waiting for?”
“Waiting for all the curious to
go back home
,” a man said,
shouting out the last three words.
Several people grumbled in agreement. A woman, supported
by a pasty-faced boy about twelve, got in line behind us. “We’ll
be homeless without your pa,” she whimpered. “What’re we
gonna do?”
“What’re we all gonna do?” asked the man who had shouted.
“How am I supposed to go on without my family? My Susan, my
wife? My girls?”
“I’m quitting school,” the pale kid said to his widowed
mother. “I’ll get a job. It’ll be okay. You’ll see, Ma.”
“Your pa wanted you to have an education. Get a good job as
an office boy someday.”
“Maybe Western Electric will give me a job. I don’t need to be
a crummy office boy. I could do anything.”
But I knew Western Electric would never hire a twelve-yearold. The only work this poor kid could get would be illegal, under
the table. At best, a paperboy, working on street corners in all
kinds of weather for pennies.
“We’re lost,” his mother moaned.
I wanted to wrap my arms around her and tell her everything
would work out, like her son had said. But I knew that would be a
lie. Without the father’s income, their future would be uncertain.
Unless … I turned around.
“I’m sorry to intrude, but your husband worked for Western
Electric?”
The widow sniffled. “Six years.”
“Then most likely you’ll get some life insurance money. The
more years at the company, the more money.”
“If only you were right. Then we might have a chance.”
“What good is money?” asked the shouting man. “When
everyone I love is dead!”
There was no answer for that question. I sagged against the
wall of the Armory to wait.
Even at this distance from the entrance, I could smell the
formaldehyde embalming fluid. It made my nose twitch. I
scratched my left nostril, anxious for the questions that plagued
my mind to be answered once and for all.
If Mae really were in the Armory, then what would she look
like? Would she be stiff and bloated, her beautiful face distorted
for all eternity into an expression of shock and horror? Would
her body be ravaged by falling debris or crushed by passengers
rushing the grand staircase?
I popped up. “I’m not sure I can do this!”
“Salvatore can take you home. I can manage on my own.”
For one merciful second, I thought of leaving. Then I looked
up at Karel, and that thought burst like a soap bubble. How dare I
think of abandoning him in this, his worst hour? Karel Koznecki
had saved my life today. I would repay him with cowardice? I
snatched the umbrella.
“Your arm must be getting tired. Let me have a turn for a
while.” I held up the umbrella, though I had to stretch my arm
to reach above his head.
“You can’t stand like that all night. Come on, Dee. Give it
back.”
“No. I’ll protect you for a while.” If only from the rain.
Karel glared at me and then shrugged. “Just for a little while.”
We lingered there for twenty minutes, my arm drooping several times, the umbrella jabbing Karel in the back of the head.
After the fifth poke, he took it back.
“Only for a short time, remember? But thank you for the protection.” He snapped the umbrella shut and nestled up against
me. “Rain’s letting up, but that doesn’t mean we can’t stay close.”
I was leaning into him, rubbing out the muscle cramp in my
hand, when a commotion erupted near the Armory entrance.
“What’s happening?”
Karel stepped out toward the curb. “Can’t see a thing.” He
grumbled and got back in line.
Two lads came strolling toward us. Karel called to them.
“Say, fellas, you’ve come from the front. What’s all the
ruckus?”
The lads looked at each other, smirked, and sauntered toward us.
“They’re getting ready to open the doors,” the shorter one
said.
I looked down at my watch. It was eleven-fifty-six.
“Lost a loved one?” the taller, lanky lad asked Karel. Without
waiting for an answer, the lanky one knocked Karel aside and
advanced on me. “What about you, miss? Who’d you lose?”
I could smell garlic and beer on his stale breath as he pressed
against me.
Karel seized him by the elbow. “Thanks for the information.
Now, if you don’t mind.”
“Let go o’ my friend!” His shorter partner took a menacing
step toward Karel.
“Better think twice, gentlemen.” Karel sneered at the two of
them. “Don’t want to tangle with me tonight. I’m in no mood.”
The lanky one pulled free of Karel. “Don’t want no trouble.”
The shorter guy sniggered. “See ya, dupes.” The pair fled off
into the darkness.
Karel stared down at me, the anger in his face dissolving into
concern.
“Are you all right?”
“Think so.” I was running my hand over my dress, smoothing
out the wrinkles, when I touched the opened clasp of my purse.
“This shouldn’t be.” I reached inside and pulled out my latchkey
and comb. But where was … I looked up at Karel, a chill rippling
through me. “My pocketbook’s missing.”
“What? No. They wouldn’t dare!” Karel slipped his hand into
his trouser pocket. “My money clip. It’s gone!” He pulled out
the silk lining of his empty pocket and stared at it for one frozen
moment. “We’ve been robbed!”
“Pickpockets!” roared the shouting man. “Let’s get ’em!”
Before I could stop him, Karel dropped the umbrella, and he
and the shouting man bolted after the two thieves. The woman
in front of us ran toward the street.
“Police!” She waved her arms frantically. “Help! Help! Police!”
Within seconds, a pair of beat cops appeared.
“What’s all the excitement?” one asked, breathless from his
run up the block. He removed his black-brimmed hat and wiped
the sweat dripping down his fuzzy sideburns.
“This poor girl’s been robbed!” The woman in front of
me seized my arm and thrust it into the air. “By two young
scoundrels!”
“The Miller Brothers!” the cops said in unison.
The second cop shook his head. “I knew those two were up to
no good when I spotted ’em lurking about. So, where’re they now?”
I wrested my arm from the woman. “My friend went after
them.”
“Shouldn’ta done that,” the second one said. “They could be
armed.”
“They have guns?” My throat went dry.
“Probably knives.” The first cop brushed back his sweaty hair
and put his hat back on. “Better for slicing purse strings.”
Or stabbing daredevil friends crazy enough to chase after
them.
“Then you’d better get going!”
“Which way?” they asked.
The pale kid pointed in the direction Karel had gone. The
cops took off running.
I stared into the blackness, struggling to comprehend what
had happened. Were there really people in this world capable of
stealing from the grief-stricken? And right outside a morgue?
Wasn’t this whole situation frightening enough without adding
robbery and possible assault to our nightmare?
“They got ’em!” The boy bounced up and down. “Here they
come!”
Karel and the shouting man appeared under a street lamp.
The two cops came marching up behind them with a pair of
scruffy-looking thieves in handcuffs. The shorter one’s bottom
lip was bleeding down the front of his shirt. His lanky accomplice had a shiner. Spectators gathered around Karel and the
shouting man, cheering and patting the two on the back. I hung
back, letting Karel have his moment.
He’d been utterly fearless tonight. He’d been fearless all day.
Mae would have been proud.
Minutes later, when all the bystanders had settled down,
Karel came sauntering back. His face was flushed, his waistcoat
twisted, and one side of his shirt hung out from his trousers.
He had never looked more dashing.
“I believe this is yours.” Karel bowed with an exaggerated
flourish and then handed over my pocketbook. I shook it. Coins
rattled.
“My hero.” I kissed him on the cheek. “You saved me. Again.”
He leaned into me, his eyes closing. My heart fluttered as his
lips came closer to mine.
“The doors are now open,” a man announced through a
bullhorn. “We’ll let in twenty at a time.”
Karel snapped back, his eyes popping open. “It’s time.”
Everyone around us rushed back into an orderly line as my
heart crashed to a cold stop.