Lisa J. Lickel
Love and respect in 1899
Milwaukee is as close as a phone call.
Alice Smith clasped her hands inside her
rabbit muff and scurried across the frozen cobbled rubble that was Wells Street
in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. The usual weekday hustle, with clattering wagons
stopping for deliveries, the shouts of boys chasing each other, shopkeepers
hawking wares, and stony-faced maids on errands, was absent for the Sabbath
rest. She and her friend, Minnie Kelly, were on their way back to Mrs. Robert’s
Boarding Establishment for Young Ladies after attending a rousing service at
Brother Amos’s Christian Servants Congregation. An imposing shadow cast by the
spire of Milwaukee’s new city hall caught hold of Alice’s attention to the
exclusion of all else. She studied the tapered outline ahead of her, as if it
pointed toward her doom. She slowly lifted her face to the real building under
construction and shivered. The edifice reminded her of the tower of Babel she
had heard about a half hour earlier. Brother Amos’s stirring words rang in her mind
with descriptions of ancient carpenters and bricklayers, clad in linen
loincloths. She half expected such a man to come down the road, trundling a
load of mortar. Though he would surely freeze if he were not wearing more than
a loincloth.
Minnie barreled into her side
like a derailed locomotive, and shoved her onto the curb just in time to avoid
being struck by one of those rickety horseless carriages.
“I don’t know how those
ghastly things can be allowed on the streets,” Minnie complained, as she shook
her tiny fist at the careening vehicle. She gave her long green-checkered skirt
a twist and shake to straighten her taffeta petticoats. Alice trembled,
thankful for the strength of her friend, the top of whose head reached only as
far as Alice’s nose. All spunk and vinegar, Minnie was, while Alice was
practical as a modern woman should be.
“What were you dreaming
about, anyway, silly?” Minnie demanded. “It’s not like you to daydream.”
Alice took a few calming
breaths, such as she would take before her calisthenics routine. “Oh, you gave
me a fright, Min.”
“I believe it was the Trundel
boys in their obnoxious motor car, not me.”
Alice smiled and puckered her
lips. She straightened Minnie’s bonnet over her friend’s red corkscrew curls,
retied the ribbons, and thanked heaven for such a guardian angel. “I was just
wondering about my future.”
“Worrying, you mean.” Minnie
turned the conversation away from the serious subject, like always. “You’ve got
your new blue wool on, I see. That jacket makes you look as professional as any
man. I meant to compliment you earlier. It matches your eyes. I shall never
have as lovely skin as yours no matter how many milk and honey washes I
perform.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Alice
patted her hat into place. “The suit cost two weeks’ worth of board money. I’ve
been so anxious about losing my job. I know I shouldn’t have, though I needed
new clothes, and I had been saving.” She stared at the strikingly tall city
hall building. “Oh, Minnie, the dedication ceremony is already next Monday.
Christmas is just ruined for me. Mayor Koch said they decided to install those
new rotary telephones. They won’t need a switchboard operator any more. What’ll
I do?”
The diminutive Minnie
clutched Alice by the elbow and pulled her toward Mrs. Robert’s three-story
Victorian. “It’s too cold to stand about moping. Did the mayor release you from
service?”
“No.”
“Then go back to being the
practical Alice who has no time for gadfly notions. Oh, Alice, you practically
run the place. You know just how to talk to people so they don’t get annoyed,
and you know everyone’s schedule. Without you, the whole city would stumble to
a halt.”
She and Minnie clattered the
few hollow steps up to the gray painted porch and crossed the wide boards.
Minnie opened the wooden door. Eau de Yankee Pot Roast, Mrs. Robert’s Sunday
special, caressed them while they hung their wraps. “Besides, you could always work
for Emma at her stenography business.”
“True. I love the
switchboard, though. Are we still meeting the boys and Selma later?”
Minnie grinned. “Right. At
the Baby Park.”
“Don’t be so romantic, Min.
Baby Park is just a name. You don’t have to get all weak in the knees at the
thought. We’re modern women. And besides, you know Frank will propose to you
soon.”
“I’ll wait for Harry and
Selma first.” Minnie laughed then sobered as they took their seats at the
lace-covered dining table, joining two other ladies and the dour but kind Mrs.
Robert, who nodded grimly and led the meal time prayer.
Alice reached for the bread
basket and plucked a golden brown roll. “I’m never marrying, of course.” After
growing up at the Protestant Orphan Asylum, no one would dictate her every
move, her every breath, ever again.
