Chapter 4

Sammy sat in his brother-in-law's small office at the noisy printing plant in Northeast Washington and crossed and uncrossed his legs while his sweating boss finished talking on the telephone. Bill Birch sighed when he put down the earpiece, spat into his cuspidor and turned in his swivel chair.

"Want you to go out to Cleveland for a couple of weeks, Sam. We're thinking on buying one of those new offset presses and all the equipment that goes with it to make the plates, and the cameras too, whole shooting match. You've been here long enough to know our needs."

"Big investment," said Sammy. "I've been reading about the process. Teacher down at Ben Franklin showed us some examples, awful good-looking work."

"We want to get out in front, if we can," said Mr. Birch, twiddling with a pencil. "The factory's having a training course, costs $200."

"Holy cow," said Sammy. "Two hundred smackers."

"They refund that if you buy the equipment, and I'm pretty sure we're going to."

"I'll need some money for a room and food," Sammy said, feeling some tightness in his chest. He had never been on a train; never really been away from home. "I'm pretty close to broke," he said after he cleared his throat.

"You give your mother your pay don't you?"

"Not all of it," Sammy said defensively.

His employer nodded and handed him a small brown envelope. "Here's a hundred. Bring me back some receipts and whatever's left," he said with a smile. "And don't spend any on fast women or rotgut whisky."

"When's this start?" asked Sammy as his mind flicked through the fast women comment, seeing some sepia postcards a friend had showed him of very odd-looking people he supposed were females doing very awkward and peculiar things.

"Monday at the plant, nine o'clock. Here's all the information and your train tickets." He handed over a manila folder. "You can take the rest of the day off so you can get ready. Train leaves tomorrow morning at seven, B and O."

"Yes sir," said Sammy, his head whirling through things he had to do at home and a pretty girl who was going to be very unhappy that he wasn't going to take her to the picture show tomorrow.

It took Sammy nearly an hour to get home since he did not have his usual ride to Georgetown and had to transfer from one streetcar line to another downtown. That was plenty of time for him to plan and to jot down reminders on the back of the money-filled envelope. He had looked at the five twenties twice, having never handled so much money at one time. He hurried up to his room and changed his clothes, ran out the back door with a wave to his mother and saddled the family's riding horse, wishing again for about the thousandth time that his father would buy an automobile, a Model T at least.

At the Miller's tidy farm six miles out the Pike, Sammy found Millie churning butter, bent to kiss her cheek and explained that he was going to stand her up on Saturday. "I've got to catch a train tomorrow morning, and I'll be in Cleveland for the next two weeks."

"Oh that's all right," the smiling girl said, "Charlie asked me to go on a picnic Sunday, and I'm sure he'll take me to see the new Ben Turpin movie tomorrow night."

"Charlie, you mean Charlie Phillipson, that no-good showoff?" Sammy fumed and looked at the girl with mock disgust. "How could you go out with him?"

"Well for one thing, Sammy Williams, he's got a new Haynes-Apperson, and for another his hands aren't always black with printers' ink."

Sammy quickly put his hands in his pockets. "Come on, Millie, tell me you're pulling my leg. I thought we had an understanding, you and me."

The girl giggled and kept right on churning. "It's a runabout and its dark blue with black fenders and gold stripes and it has a canvas top and side windows that roll down, or is it up? Anyways, you ought to see it. It's brand new, a 1916 model."

"Uh huh. Look, I'm sorry I have to break our date, and I'll come see you as soon as I get back." Sammy felt the need to keep moving, embarrassed about coming to visit on their old horse.

"All right," she said standing and wiggling from side to side so the hem of her skirt twirled about, "I suppose I'm going to miss you."

"Kiss me goodbye?"

They leaned toward each other and their lips met very briefly, both of them with their eyes closed.

"Stay out of the back seat, you know Charlie's reputation," Sammy said over his shoulder and as lightly as he could as he hurried off.

Millie laughed and nodded and then she returned to her sour-smelling chore, tasting the boy on her lips.

The train ride to Cleveland took most of Saturday, and Sammy arrived near sunset, rumpled and hungry since he had refused to pay a quarter for a sandwich on the train and had survived on two five-cent soft drinks and some free saltines.

He walked to his hotel and got directions to the factory he was to visit. For his two-week stay, with a business discount, the room cost Sammy $32.50, and since he still had more than sixty dollars to live on, he treated himself to a $1.25 Kansas City steak for supper and went to his musty bed well content.

On Sunday Sammy walked around the nearly empty streets and sat in a downtown park where he watched the children play and the pigeons come and go. He ate a bacon sandwich for lunch and then saw a Charlie Chaplin double feature at a new-looking movie theater that still smelled of paint. Between features the projectionist showed lantern slides of Cleveland, which was evidently a fast-growing town along the busy lakeshore.